Bob Aberton
First Post
(OOC All: If you don't mind, I'd like to let Malachi make his reply to Vemuz's post before I make the next DM Post, for continuity's sake. Hope you don't mind the slight delay...)
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Deep Water and Shoals II
- Thread starter Bob Aberton
- Start date
Tonguez
A suffusion of yellow
kenjib said:
'Freedom won' the Swordfishers words resonate within the half-orcs mind and broken from his revel he looks hard at Vemuz' the semblance of an idea beginning to form. As an Officer and a Navigator the half-orc has a fair stash of coin, and with nothin' better to use it on he may as well start investing in freedom
"How much yol be willin t' wager swardfishar?" Malachi asks "Ah'll be matchin yol wager an' we'll be goin do'n now an' gettin dhem freedom - winnin' or buyin' tis all sem to me..."
Vemuz stops walking and turns around to face Malachi again. "I've more axes than gold, but I'll give what I've got if you have a plan. I don't want to sail out tomorrow with clamdiggers aboard, Malachi. I don't know who the new hands that Mr. Lang hired are going to be, and I don't really want to. It wouldn't be good for morale to have them around with the bad blood spilt the other night. Maybe if we get better replacements we can have a talk with him."
Vemuz steps in closely and makes sure that nobody can overhear him. "We both know the elves are coming to Standishtown. It's probably not tonight, but if it is I can tell you that there might be more than just elves out there." He discretely places four gold coins on the ships rail and looks out over the side of the ship, as if they were simply discussing tomorrow's weather.
Vemuz steps in closely and makes sure that nobody can overhear him. "We both know the elves are coming to Standishtown. It's probably not tonight, but if it is I can tell you that there might be more than just elves out there." He discretely places four gold coins on the ships rail and looks out over the side of the ship, as if they were simply discussing tomorrow's weather.
Tonguez
A suffusion of yellow
"Plan?" Malachi looked back down at the Orcs and then to the coins laid out on the rail. He realised that he didn't really have a plan - except to go down there find whoever was forcing these people to work and make him release them.
Was that a viable plan? He grimaced, did it matter - what the Swordfisher said was true and he was feeling a call to act.
"Ah'm goen' daon dhere naw, swordfishar" he answered Vemuz "get dhem free, be good t'ing hav good mon at me back"
Was that a viable plan? He grimaced, did it matter - what the Swordfisher said was true and he was feeling a call to act.
"Ah'm goen' daon dhere naw, swordfishar" he answered Vemuz "get dhem free, be good t'ing hav good mon at me back"
Bob Aberton
First Post
(OOC Malachi & Vemuz: Just interjecting here, please continue your dialogue...)
Malachi,
As you watch the Orcs trundle back and forth from the CHRISTOPHER WILLS with boxes of assorted goods and bales of tobacco, you become aware that they are watching you.
Or rather, they are sneaking glances at you; while trying not to be too obvious, one of them points at you and mutters something to his fellow.
After a long moment, one of them picks up a box, and shooting cautious glances in all directions, trundles in the general direction of the GRACE's side of the pier. He looks at you almost wonderingly.
"Is you a slave too?" he asks quietly. Then, he realizes what you are wearing - the garments of, not only a freeman, but an officer to boot. He seems hardly able to believe it. "Or is you free man?"
Malachi,
As you watch the Orcs trundle back and forth from the CHRISTOPHER WILLS with boxes of assorted goods and bales of tobacco, you become aware that they are watching you.
Or rather, they are sneaking glances at you; while trying not to be too obvious, one of them points at you and mutters something to his fellow.
After a long moment, one of them picks up a box, and shooting cautious glances in all directions, trundles in the general direction of the GRACE's side of the pier. He looks at you almost wonderingly.
"Is you a slave too?" he asks quietly. Then, he realizes what you are wearing - the garments of, not only a freeman, but an officer to boot. He seems hardly able to believe it. "Or is you free man?"
Tonguez
A suffusion of yellow
"Ah a free man" Malachi answers with pride "born free like dhe win' in dhe sheets. An' ah dhe Navigator!.
Ah wont you free too" he continues coming down to the other orcs side. He looks at the other orc with intensity seeing before him a brother like he has never known before
"Our pepol is a strong pepol" he says it like a mantra "free and ikwol. We aint be slaves no more!
You kom t' dhis ship, work en dhe crew, we go far way - you be free like any mon shoul' be."
Ah wont you free too" he continues coming down to the other orcs side. He looks at the other orc with intensity seeing before him a brother like he has never known before
"Our pepol is a strong pepol" he says it like a mantra "free and ikwol. We aint be slaves no more!
You kom t' dhis ship, work en dhe crew, we go far way - you be free like any mon shoul' be."
Uriel
Living EN World Judge
Artimus walks on all fours along the railing, getting close to the Navigator, observing the conversation. Curiously studying the Orcs he tosses down to the docks at the feet of the Orcs Nico's last box of cinnamon cookies, after pulling a few out for himself(damn him!) .
Then, doffing his cap and bowing at them, he resumes eating his sweets...
OoC:
Then, doffing his cap and bowing at them, he resumes eating his sweets...
OoC:
Vemuz pulls Malachi aside and speaks to him quietly. "I'm here by your side, but we don't leave until morning, so we might not want to start trouble yet. There's too much time yet for the town to come down on the ship. If him and a few others can work their way aboard ship at daybreak before we leave, however, maybe we can convince Mr. Lang to leave the clamdiggers behind and smuggle them out instead.
"Perhaps it would be best if we told him that we won their freedom gambling, though. Mr. Lang seems a bit of a stickler, eh? I can have a word with him down at the Inn if you'd like."
"Perhaps it would be best if we told him that we won their freedom gambling, though. Mr. Lang seems a bit of a stickler, eh? I can have a word with him down at the Inn if you'd like."
dead_radish
Explorer
OOC: Is this the next day, or is this the time we're out drinkin'?)
Bob Aberton
First Post
Jonah & Malthas,
(OOC: This is late at night, probably around 11 o'clock. Nicodemus has already returned, but the Captain is still at the tavern, as is Mr. Lang. You make the decision whether you stay at the tavern or return to the ship.)
It is dark outside by now, and the others are deep into their cups - all except Mr. Lang, that is. He never seemed like the drinking type to you, and his behavior confirms your suspicions; he sits at the table, making at least an attempt at polite conversation, while having consumed only two glasses of Languedoui wine (an Iberrean wine).
The Captain, in direct contrast, has drunk so many tumblers of rum that you have lost count; while sober and reasonable at sea, the habits of a foremast hand never seemed to be far from apparent in him. His face is a brilliant red, and he is becoming loud and bombastic (although that is no different really from the other patrons of the establishment.).
"Damn' clamdiggers!" he roars, slamming down another glass. "We'll be out o' here soon enough - clam diggin' cowards an' murderin' pointy-ears...place is a hell hole, wouldn't wish it on...wouldn't wish it on an Iberrean, s'elp me!"
Mr. Lang leans over and suggest quietly that the Captain make this his last rum.
"Last rum? Damn your eyes, Mr. Lang, I've barely begun! Don't like t'see a man drink, eh? What do you know 'bout drink...wha'do you know 'bout livin', eh? Sittin' there, drinkin' y'r Calypso-be-damned Iberrean wine, like some lady...look more like an officer's wife than an officer, le'me tell y'! What'd you...swap y'r petticoats for epaulettes, did y'? Damn y'r eyes, stop houndin' me! You drink y'r damned-t'-Davy-Jones lady's wine, an' I'll drink my rum, eh?"
The Captain seems to be focusing the frustrations of his stay in Standishtown on his rum glasses, gulping down one after the other at incredible speed. Mr. Lang gives you a helpless look, then shoots an exasperated glance at the Captain, checking his pocket-watch significantly.
Malachi,
The soon-to-be-former slaves look up at you with something like profound awe. The word "free" is talked over excitedly.
"Yass," one of them says quickly. "We join dis ship, we wan' be free like you. You want we should com' 'board now? You want we should tell others?"
Artimus, Mr. Arfaliunium's pet monkey, is standing on the rail a few feet away, and he throws down a box of cookies at the orc's feet and bows. The orcs quickly divide up the cookies, hide them away in their ragged garments, and dispose of the box.
Vemuz (assuming you go to the tavern to have a word with Mr. Lang. If not, disregard this.),
You find Malthas, Jonah, the Captain, and Mr. Lang in the "White Horse Inn." Mr. Lang is his customary contained self, but the Captain seems to be trying to break some sort of record for drunkenness. At least 10 empty tumblers formerly full of rum lie on the table in front of him, and one resides in his left hand while the other makes its way to his mouth. His coherence, given the situation, is admirable, but he is becoming loud and bombastic; you can hear him berating Mr. Lang all the way across the room:
"Last rum? Damn your eyes, Mr. Lang, I've barely begun! Don't like t'see a man drink, eh? What do you know 'bout drink...wha'do you know 'bout livin', eh? Sittin' there, drinkin' y'r Calypso-be-damned Iberrean wine, like some lady...look more like an officer's wife than an officer, le'me tell y'! What'd you...swap y'r petticoats for epaulettes, did y'? Damn y'r eyes, stop houndin' me! You drink y'r damned-t'-Davy-Jones lady's wine, an' I'll drink my rum, eh?"
When you reach the table, the Captain is calling for more rum, and Mr. Lang is looking on exasperatedly.
"Yes, Mr. Thriceborn, what is it?" he asks in carefully controlled tones. "I would appreciate your help in returning the Captain to his vessel; he has a regrettable tendency to...ah, overindulge in celebration."
(OOC: This is late at night, probably around 11 o'clock. Nicodemus has already returned, but the Captain is still at the tavern, as is Mr. Lang. You make the decision whether you stay at the tavern or return to the ship.)
It is dark outside by now, and the others are deep into their cups - all except Mr. Lang, that is. He never seemed like the drinking type to you, and his behavior confirms your suspicions; he sits at the table, making at least an attempt at polite conversation, while having consumed only two glasses of Languedoui wine (an Iberrean wine).
The Captain, in direct contrast, has drunk so many tumblers of rum that you have lost count; while sober and reasonable at sea, the habits of a foremast hand never seemed to be far from apparent in him. His face is a brilliant red, and he is becoming loud and bombastic (although that is no different really from the other patrons of the establishment.).
"Damn' clamdiggers!" he roars, slamming down another glass. "We'll be out o' here soon enough - clam diggin' cowards an' murderin' pointy-ears...place is a hell hole, wouldn't wish it on...wouldn't wish it on an Iberrean, s'elp me!"
Mr. Lang leans over and suggest quietly that the Captain make this his last rum.
"Last rum? Damn your eyes, Mr. Lang, I've barely begun! Don't like t'see a man drink, eh? What do you know 'bout drink...wha'do you know 'bout livin', eh? Sittin' there, drinkin' y'r Calypso-be-damned Iberrean wine, like some lady...look more like an officer's wife than an officer, le'me tell y'! What'd you...swap y'r petticoats for epaulettes, did y'? Damn y'r eyes, stop houndin' me! You drink y'r damned-t'-Davy-Jones lady's wine, an' I'll drink my rum, eh?"
The Captain seems to be focusing the frustrations of his stay in Standishtown on his rum glasses, gulping down one after the other at incredible speed. Mr. Lang gives you a helpless look, then shoots an exasperated glance at the Captain, checking his pocket-watch significantly.
Malachi,
The soon-to-be-former slaves look up at you with something like profound awe. The word "free" is talked over excitedly.
"Yass," one of them says quickly. "We join dis ship, we wan' be free like you. You want we should com' 'board now? You want we should tell others?"
Artimus, Mr. Arfaliunium's pet monkey, is standing on the rail a few feet away, and he throws down a box of cookies at the orc's feet and bows. The orcs quickly divide up the cookies, hide them away in their ragged garments, and dispose of the box.
Vemuz (assuming you go to the tavern to have a word with Mr. Lang. If not, disregard this.),
You find Malthas, Jonah, the Captain, and Mr. Lang in the "White Horse Inn." Mr. Lang is his customary contained self, but the Captain seems to be trying to break some sort of record for drunkenness. At least 10 empty tumblers formerly full of rum lie on the table in front of him, and one resides in his left hand while the other makes its way to his mouth. His coherence, given the situation, is admirable, but he is becoming loud and bombastic; you can hear him berating Mr. Lang all the way across the room:
"Last rum? Damn your eyes, Mr. Lang, I've barely begun! Don't like t'see a man drink, eh? What do you know 'bout drink...wha'do you know 'bout livin', eh? Sittin' there, drinkin' y'r Calypso-be-damned Iberrean wine, like some lady...look more like an officer's wife than an officer, le'me tell y'! What'd you...swap y'r petticoats for epaulettes, did y'? Damn y'r eyes, stop houndin' me! You drink y'r damned-t'-Davy-Jones lady's wine, an' I'll drink my rum, eh?"
When you reach the table, the Captain is calling for more rum, and Mr. Lang is looking on exasperatedly.
"Yes, Mr. Thriceborn, what is it?" he asks in carefully controlled tones. "I would appreciate your help in returning the Captain to his vessel; he has a regrettable tendency to...ah, overindulge in celebration."
