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Deep Water and Shoals - A Swashbuckling Campaign

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whoops...

First screwup of the game...sorry about that

I meant, would you post something like this:


The constellation called the Shark sat just above the horizon and acknowledging its company through the night Malachi bowed his head in thanks. Soon the morning star would brighten indicating the approach of dawn. A good breeze carried the ship forward and Malachi knew that soon they would be around the point and approaching port - then the adventure would begin...

I suppose I could write it myself, but I don't want to put words in your character's mouths, so to speak.
 

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Ahhhh, I see. ;)

Malthas leaned back in the tavern and smiled. The last voyage had been a good one. The captain undestood that a happy crew was a good crew, and had stocked the larder with ale and mutton. There hadn't been any problems with raiders, and the spices they were delivering had stayed in remarkably good conidtion, and they hadn't needed to toss out as much as expected, so profits were high.

Malthas sipped at his ale, and wondered when Malachai would show up. Maybe he was staying behind to chat with the navigator, or maybe he just didn't feel like drinking tonight. Either way, Malthas was going to enjoy a few days in port before searching for his next home.
 

Morning broke. Vemuz' earnings from his duty aboard the Ocean's Bounty were just about run out, so he decided to head over to "the Wall" this morning. He stood waiting next to the couple dozen other jobbers invariably looking for work there every day. He planted the butt of his long harpoon into the ground and leaned against it.

The men near him inched away subtly, unconciously. Vemuz could hear one of them whispering, obviously thinking he was out of earshot. The light offshore morning breeze, however, carried the voice clearly. "Watch out fer that bloke. I'll not be joinin' his ship, I tell ya', an if you know what's good fer ya', you won't neither. I 'eard he once snapped a man's neck with 'is bare hands just fer steerin' the boat wrong and sendin' him into the tank. Aye, 'twas a friend o' me brother in-law's that done seen it with 'is own eye!"

Vemuz pretended not to hear as he waited for an employer to come looking for a crew. He didn't care what the job was, so long as the money was good. He usually got the best money working as a harpooneer on the whaling ships.
 

Official DM Post

I'm delaying my Official Post until 9:30 PM EST to give those who haven't responded yet a chance to respond.
 


Nicodemus stepped down from the plank of the Azure Osprey, waving a farerwell to the ship's Captain (who stood leaning over the rail and smiling).
In Elvish, Nicodemus said 'Fare thee well, Brother Beneath the Waves, until we meet again.'
The old Sea Elf nodded and replied 'And to you to as well, Brother Upon the Waves, may your travels be Fortuitous and full of Excitement.'
Then the Captain disappeared beneath deck and Nico turned to the Quay before him, it the center of the early morn's bustle and awakening activity.
Fish mongers hawked their wares and urchins darted to and fro amongst the Folk, some playing, some playing at thievery. 'Come Artimus,'Nico looked about for his familiar (the tiny howler monkey was
chasing cats around the docks and howling in glee).
The 3 porters paid to lug Nico's prodigious belongings eyed the boxes and bales suspiciously, for more than once the Dwarf had yelled 'Careful, you Ninny! You'll blow us half way to the Dim West!'
Nico paid the men their coin, and with them carying his things,he set about looking for a suitable Inn to get some breakfast, the monkey in tow.
 

Official DM Post

I little early, but here it is.

(OOC: Uriel - you don't know each other but will meet shortly)

Vemuz - You are standing in your "personal space" - the other seamen give you a wide berth - near "the Wall," looking for employment, when you feel someone plucking at your sleeve. Looking down - far, far down - you see a short, thin man who bears more resemblance to a rat than a person.

He is certainly no ship's captain. He doesn't carry himself like one used to commanding men. Rather, he carries himself like one used to running from them. Nor does he dress like a sea captain.

"Allo, guv," he says, grinning nervously and showing rotten teeth. "Lookin' fer work, are ya? Coor, but you're a hard-lookin' brute. If y'are lookin' fer work, come with me. I'll buy ya a drink or two, an' mayhaps we'll discuss signin' Articles wi' someone, eh?"

He gestures to a building not far away. It is a hulk, shorn of its masts and rigging and floating tied to the wharf. It has a low, mean look - it looks like it would cut your throat and take your money, were it a person. You can barely make the name on its smokestained sign. It reads "The Frigate - Food and Beds for Weary Tars."

"Trust me," the man says, "It's a good deal better on th' inside. An' 'ere's something ta calm yer doubts [here he presses a gold coin into your palm]. Its not a bad place, ya know. Good drink, great gals...if ya catch my meanin'...and I know a captain or two's a reg'lar there. If ya wanna sign Articles, there's nobbut better than Th' Ould Frigate." He stands, awaiting your response, brazen but intimidated. He spits out a wad of tobacco nervously.

(OOC: do you follow?)

Malachi(OOC: I now you haven't posted yet, but I'll just say you're still on the ship): As you walk down the gangplank, hefting your seabag to your shoulder, you take a look at the town. It is not a bad town, though it has all the attendent fixings of a port-town - prostitutes, thieves, and the like prowl the streets, rubbing shoulders with fabulously rich merchants. Malthas, you know, has already disembarked and headed for a tavern, but you had stayed to say a brief prayer to Calypso that your next voyage be as successful as the last.

As you step down, a man taps you on the shoulder. He is tall, sailorly type, though you notice he has been on land long enough to lose his sea-stride.

"Hey Porc...err, gu'vor. Ya'll be looking for a tavern, eh? An' maybe ta sign Articles afore yer money runs out...say, are ya an officer or somethin' or did ya just steal that sextant, eh? Either way, why don't yer come this way an' I'll by y'a drink or two," he says, expectantly.

(OOC: Do you follow him?)

(Other Players: This contains knowledge not meant for your eyes...yet. So please don't read it, or if you do, don't act upon the info herein)
Malthas: You are sipping your ale, relaxing and wondering where the hell Malachi is, when a small boy, eleven or twelve, walks in, striding brashly over to your table.

"Hello," he says furtively. "Can I sit down?" He sits down regardless, not waiting for you to respond.

"So you're fresh off that ship, the Sunset Princess, where the navigator is a Porc? Heard someone call him Malachi, or some such? I'd watch out, If I was you. I seen this Malachi talking ta one of the Runners. Yer gotta be careful of them, ya know. They're allus lookin' fer new sailors. You drink with them, sometimes ya wake up on a slow boat ta Canching, if ya get my meanin', and ya don't get paid a seaman's wages, neither. They'll Canching ya, them Runners, if'n yer not careful. They ain't nice folk. I'm only tellin' ya seeing as yer prolly a ship's boy like me, an' I don' wanna see us cabin boys gettin' Canchinged." the boy obviously thinks you're a fellow child, and shares this information with you because he feels some sort of charity toward a fellow "boy."

* * * *

I will give the others a chance to post before resuming my DM Post. Anyways, Malachi, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to respond before I posted about you, but necessity demanded I make at least part of my DM Post. Tomorrow, I will finish this DM Post.

Hopefully we'll have the game going full swing by the weekend.
 

A broad grin crosses Vemuz' face as he looks down at the little man. His front right tooth sparkles golden. His front left tooth is chipped. "You don't look like you run a gig rich enough for my likes, but I'll take your gold, ale, and women, and then we can talk." His accent is rough and unusual -- very hard to place.

Vemuz lets out a bellowing laugh and forcefully slaps the little man on the back, almost sweeping him off of his feet as he begins to walk with him toward the Frigate. "Come then, let's go."

As he turns to walk off he looks back at the man who had been gossiping about him earlier. A slight sneer crosses Vemuz' face as he catches his eye, spits on the ground, and then heads off toward the Frigate.
 

Re: Official DM Post

Malachi stretched his back and surveyed the port-town his nose twitching with distaste, much better to be on the open sea or wading along an unspoilt shore..

He was about to go and seek Malthas when a man taped him on the shoulder.

"Hey Porc...err, gu'vor. Ya'll be looking for a tavern, eh? An' maybe ta sign Articles afore yer money runs out...say, are ya an officer or somethin' or did ya just steal that sextant, eh? Either way, why don't yer come this way an' I'll by y'a drink or two," he says, expectantly.

The Half-orcs face is passive but his eyes grow wide in answer
Beware dhe serpent tohngue" he growls the scripture, his accent thick "he koms wit empty promises, abide no’ youl time wit hem, his paht leads to destroction

Ah'm luking fer a fren'” he ends abruptly "let m' be" and begins to walk away but then turns to add "dhe sextent is mine by right, Ah am a navigatorrr!"...

(ooc thanks for the Sextant and I don't mind you taking Malachi down the gangplank:))
 

Malthas looks at the lad. "Is that so, my friend? That fellow you describe is a friend of mine, good and true. If it is he, such information would be well appreciated, and worth a bit of my few coins left. You take me where you saw him and this Runner, and tell me a bit more on the way, and I'll see my way to parting with a bit o' me wages." Malthas taps the tattoos under his eye, "and it just might be my next voyage would need another cabin boy. I could put in a word for you as well."

He then waits for the boy's response, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his short sword.
 

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