Deep Water and Shoals - A Swashbuckling Campaign

[Tonguez]

"We haf been Mr Lang" Malachi replies to the First Mate whilst keeping his eyes downcast guiltily

"Ah'll take dhe full 'sponsibility fer what w'dun" he continues "an' ask dhe Capitan an' dhe Lady fer f'rgivenuss"

He looks up at the face of the other man, he knew that they would be in trouble for the barfight he only hopes the captains forgiveness will be as grreat as his fairness...

 

[Bob Aberton]

Malachi, Vemuz, Nicodemus, et al,

"I see," Mr. Lang says, coldly. Then, he suddenly explodes. "What were you thinking? You, all of you officers, brawling like...like...foremast Jacks? What kind of an example are you setting for the men? How do you think this will affect discipline, if the crew knows even their officers are getting themselves into bar-fights? By Davy Jones' locker, sir, you are damned lucky this ship does not practice Naval discipline. Were I the captain, I would rig the grating now, and give you all a few more scars!"

He takes a deep breath, and continues, calmer now:

"Fortunately for all of you, the captain is away upriver, buying cargo; he will not return for several days. In the meantime, your shore leave is stopped. Not a single man Jack of you is to leave this ship without permission from me, d'you understand? Mr. Legba, I must speak with you in private. The rest of you, get yourselves to the surgeon; you are lucky she has more sense than you. Mind you, that is not much to boast of; that capstan bar, there, has more sense than the lot of you."

He goes into his cabin, gesturing for Malachi to follow.

Malthas,

The bar maid gives you a wicked grin and leads you up the stairs.

"Not that I'm promising anything, mind," she says warningly, but still wearing that familiar brazen smile.

Jonah,

Try as you might, your eyes cannot pierce the thick fog, and in the miasma, sound plays tricks on your ears; all you can hear is the splash of the boatmen's punting-poles.

"Aye, it would be dangerous," Captain McCrenshaw says. "Still, we can't have our boatmen fallin' asleep on us, can we? We've got four pistols an' various other weapons between us; we can keep a good watch..."

 

[Tonguez]

Malachi looks across at the others relieved that they've been lucky enough to sign on to the Calypo's Grace and its fine captain.

His face is set but his eyes glisten with a spark of mischief 'twas a good fight' the Half-orc thinks to himself as he follows Mr Lang into the cabin

and silently waits...

 

[Uriel]

Nicodemus waits until the Windbag finishes his spiel.
After listening to what Mr. Lang has to say Nico retorts
Afore ye go off dolling out Punishments, Mr. Lang, be advised that what went on wasn't exactly what you may be a-thinkin'...I fer one had finished buying Ship's Supplies for my Lab, had delivered 'em here and returned fer a Pint. What do I see, when Mr Orleau <who wasn't in any fight, cept with a cup o' whiskey a bit too big fer his liver> and I set to trying to finish said Whiskey bottle, gentlemanlike, but some Standishtowners brandishin knives, broke bottles and clubs at my Mates here. Now let me make somethi Deadly Clear here, Mr. Lang. I swung me billyclub at a few Townies to get em off me Mates, and that's a fact. but i was not involved in any Fight, as you seem ta Think, because. Nico steps back, casting Alter Self, giving himself wicked claws, fangs and some spiraling Horns for good measure, 'When I Fight, I don't do it with a club, Sir, but with my Arts, and were that the case, there'd be more'n a few dead Townies right now, and that's all I have te say to ye, Good Night.' Nico nods, doffs his cap to Mr Lang <Artimus doffs his cap too, since he feels a bit sheepish about all the plates he threw> and heads below decks to have a good Sleep.

 

[Bob Aberton]

Nicodemus,

Mr. Lang eyes you frigidly for a moment or two, then turns smartly on his heel, Navy-fashion, and walks into his cabin.

Malachi,

Mr. Lang's cabin is small and plain. A desk of rough, unfinished wood stands in one corner, a bunk with a plain white sheet in the other. A small, brass-bound seachest, chipped and splintered at the edges from years of ill-usage, is tucked away under the bunk.

Mr. Lang closes the door and turns to you.

"Mr. Legba, the reason I called you in here is that all of us - and you in particular - are in a precarious situation in this port. You have seen, surely, that slave-labor is the basis of the economy here; orcish slaves run the tobacco plantations and do all the menial work here.

The locals here do not merely look down upon orcs, they hate them, particularly free orcs. You have some human blood in you, I believe, and that only makes you even more of a loathsome object to these clamdiggers. They will assume as a matter of course that...the...er...circumstances of your conception, shall we say, were not entirely, well...consensual. Add to that that not only are you a free half-orc, you are furthermore the officer in charge of navigation on a deepwater merchantman, and thus far more successful than these longshore tavern-snakes, and also, furthermore, that, when set upon, you defended yourself vigorously - to judge by your injuries - and they will hate you. I fear that you would be in great danger of being lynched, or at least assaulted, should you leave the ship, particularly after nightfall. Furthermore, the men who assaulted you may even bring charges against you; and you would not stand a chance against the prejudiced jury that you would face in such a situation; undoubtedly their sentence would far outweigh what harm was done."

He pauses.

"I have great respect for you, Mr. Legba, and I know you as a competent officer. Thus, I am not making an order - I am making a request to a fellow officer; for your own sake, I beg you to keep a low profile and stay as far away from the locals as you can. I would not like to see you at the mercy of a lynch mob, Mr. Legba. That will be all."

 

[Uriel]

Nico went into his cabin, rubbibg a bruise or two, thinking about the ruckus that had just occurred on deck.
Mr Lang wasn't a bad sort, Hells, Nico had served on a few ships where theofficers were downright Vicious when it cam to punishents. No, Lang was a good man, just one used to the 'Proper Manner' of doing things.
Noting a cordial 'Mr Nicodemus Arfalinium respectfully requests Mr Lang join him for Tea and Cookies at 9am,so that Mr. Arfalinium can properly apologize for any harsh words and misconduct happening on the evening prior.' on a Note, Nico hands the Note to Artimus, telling the Monkey, 'Deliver this to Mr. Lang, use the porthole. And make sure ya wake me at half past 8,put the kettle on at quarter to nine and don't eat all the Cookies, Mind Ye. I'm fer bed, and I'll see Ye in the morning Arti.' Nico smiles at the little Howler and crawls into his bed, snoring almost instantly.

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz, sullen, heads toward the surgeon to have her look at his arm.

 

[Tonguez]

"I have great respect for you, Mr. Legba, and I know you as a competent officer. Thus, I am not making an order - I am making a request to a fellow officer; for your own sake, I beg you to keep a low profile and stay as far away from the locals as you can. I would not like to see you at the mercy of a lynch mob, Mr. Legba. That will be all."

The Half-orc snarls at the mention of orc enslavement here in standishtown but as Mr Lang continues Malachi's face softens and takes on a look of Melancholy.

His eyes glisten touched by the sentiment in the First Mates words and he looks ready to say something but stops before the words come out and simply nods in typical stoic fashion

"T'ank yal sar." he replies simply and sincerely "Ah w'll stop aboard ship f'nowon wit' dhe kompany o' dhe Lady Calypso."

He turns to go but looks back over his shoulder before exiting the door
"T'ank ya sar" he says again....

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas winks again. "Oh, no, of course m'lady. I would not dream to impune your virtue in such a manner, to suggest such a thing. But perhaps we could see the room, that I might impune you in private?"

 

[Bob Aberton]

Vemuz,

The surgeon is a tiny, quiet sea elf; she rarely talks to anyone, and you saw her on deck just once since clearing Hullish waters.

"That's a bad break you have there," she says softly, as she splints the broken limb. "Right below the elbow...don't use this arm much if you can avoid it, for a few weeks at the least."

Malthas,

The bar maid gives no reply but a wink this time, and leads you into the nearet unoccupied room.

Within moments, you feel for yourself that her words as to the softness of the beds here were not idle boasting.

Jonah and Antheos,

The keg raft continues to nose its way slowly upriver through the fog. However, the boatmen are visibly tired - they carry their punting-poles now as though they were made of lead.

"This settles it," Captain McCrenshaw says. "Boatmen, take this contraption inshore; we'll have t' spend th' night here."

The boatmen protest, but the captain reassures them.

"Don' worry lads, we're well armed, an' us sailor types know how t' stand a sharp-eyed watch."

Won over, at least on the outside, the boatmen bring the keg raft inshore at the nearest convenient clearing.

It is still foggy. All you can see of the forest are vague impressions of trees and tangled shrubbery silhouetted in the mist and twilight shadows. Captain McCrenshaw takes his powder-flask and cartridge case and covers them with his boat cloak to keep the damp out. The three boatmen also have muskets with them.

"Alright," says the captain. "Meself an' Mr. Jonah here, we'll take th' first watch. Antheos, you an' the boatmen c'n have the second. May Calypso watch over us all..."

Somewhere out in the trackless forests, a wolf howls.