D&D 5E Spell & Crossbones

[Quickleaf]

GM: Why yes [MENTION=20005]Matthan[/MENTION] there is a church in Nassau! Pick a sensible skill you'll use to liberate some priestly frocks with, like Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) or Dexterity (Stealth). Make a DC 13 check. On a success, Blaise gets frocks for himself and Etienne. On a great success of 18+, you get the results of a success and choose one: Blaise also meets a sympathetic lay sister who has inside information on the imprisoned Spanish navy men. Blaise also meets a Spanish spy who has an interest in liberating the Spanish navy men and the skills to back it up. Blaise happens to find a clerical prayer book in the pocket of the frock with spell scrolls of augury & gentle repose On a failure, Blaise is ushered out of the church as mass is held, failing to get any frocks. On a terrible failure of 8 or less, you get the results of a failure and choose one: Blackbeard's agents followed Blaise from the tavern to the church and pieced together what he's up to. Blaise is mistaken for a penitent seeking confession, and pressured to divulge his darkest secrets. Just when Blaise and Etienne are trying on frocks, they're mistaken for clerics and ushered forth to give mass!

 

[Matthan]

As Blaise and Etienne step outside, he sees the church nearby. "Best to keep our options open. Let me take a quick peek and see if I can grab some frocks." He looks up and down his companion, "I think I can guess your size. I'll be back in a second."

Blaise Stealth Roll (stealing frocks): 1D20+7 = [19]+7 = 26

OOC: I'm going to be honest. The world is a sadder place with Blaise and Etienne not getting the opportunity to stumble through mass. Hard decision for success though. The scrolls keep things moving the fastest, but D&D is all about stirring things up. In my heart, I want to see things get crazy. I want to meet the spy.

 

[Quickleaf]

Nassau's old church rarely sees pirates or privateers in its pews. Only a few devout citizens of the Nassau pray by candlelight prior to the vespers (evening mass). Slipping in is a simple matter of evading the one friar circumambulating the interior of the church with a censer of pungent incense, probably more useful for repelling fleas and mosquitos than evil spirits. Such places make the spirit of Libète dwelling within Blaise uneasy. As Etienne keeps watch, he notices two women entering the church arm-in-arm, nothing out of the usual. Compared to the rest of raucous Nassau, the church is a sanctuary of silence.

[section]Just as Blaise turns with the two black frocks, holding them up to make sure he has selected the sizes correctly, he nearly stumbles into a woman in a green dress. Though she demurely turns her face down to apologize, it is clear she is a ravishing brunette half-elf with aquiline features. "Forgive me, father..." she says in a soft French accent.

However, after a few heartbeats, she looks up with a wry worldly smirk. Her hazel eyes are devastatingly penetrating, as if she could see right into his heart, into Libète, and beyond. "But I had a pressing question that cannot wait...it is a matter of a soul imperiled...Please, it won't take long. Thievery is against the commandments, of course, and thievery from the house of God is surely an even greater sin. Do we consider the character of the thief? Or whether his theft serves a greater good? Or is it all forbidden in the eyes of the Lord?"

As she speaks, she casually lets her shawl drape away to reveal she wears the forearm guards and leggings of a fencer, with an elegant rapier and pistol hanging from her belt. Suddenly, voices of two priests approach from the southern vestibule! Spinning Blaise gracefully into a side alcove, the woman whispers, "Madame Sophie Trémière." She offers a satin gloved hand, "Enchanté, Monsieur. I wonder, why does a man steal a priest's vestments on the eve of an execution? He wouldn't have plans to release the imprisoned ones?"[/section]

 

[Matthan]

Blaise takes the proffered hand and raises it to his lips for a kiss. “Allow your conscience to be clear, madame. As Rahab lied to protect the men of God and was honored for it, so does God understand that sometimes the greater good tips the scales and rewards those with the clarity to see it.” He smiles and winks, “At least, that’s what my priest told me when I caught his hands in the alms box as a boy.”

“Blaise Arceneau, at your service. My plans for the evening are perhaps more flexible than you say, but I do intend on having a conversation with the Spaniards. Where that conversation leads,” he pauses his whisper and shrugs his shoulders. “What about yourself, Sophie? After all, a lady does not so boldly approach a man robbing a church while dressed as you are,” his eyes flit to the weapons at her side, “without her own intentions. Who are the Spaniards to you?”

 

[Quickleaf]

Meanwhile, back at Blackreef's Tavern...

[SECTION]After a sullen moment perched on the stool, Fulke "Mad Eyes" Smyth snaps back to attention, swaying in his seat with a fish-eating grin. "Here and there, well, mostly here," he raises his thick brows to the roof of the tavern. "Helped Komodo Roy with some smuggling, careened an English merchantman, sold a poem to a passing governess." Smyth winks and taps his nose.

"A hand of Marias it is!" the drunken pirate slaps the table, patting down his coat pockets but struggling to find his deck of cards. Embarrassed to recall he'd lost the cards in a recent wager, Smyth clears his throat, "Well, the Singing Pirates, they aren't welcome in the tavern, see, on account of the...well...the singing. Down by the docks, they are. If they had any religion, they'd probably be a good fit for the choir at that little church up the hill. The tenor is not bad, really." Quaffing the rest of his ale, Smythe wipes his mouth.

"It's a bunch of them against one of me, though. I don't know if I've the strength to take on a chorus of Singing Pirates. Tell ye what, lass, help me win the bet to shut up the Singing Pirates and I'll split my winnings with you 50-and-50. And uh...I'll be able to buy meself a new deck of cards while I'm at it. What do ye say?" Smyth rests one elbow on the table and leans over a bit too close to Katerina, before scanning his bleary eyes across the rest of you seated at the table.

"But if I'm going to be singing, I'll need another drink..."[/SECTION]

 

[peterka99]

OOC: I don't suppose you know any tricks that will make the jailor let us in if our words and your crosses aren't enough?"

OOC: Violence... Etienne still remembers what he spontaneously would have replied to Blaise a few minutes ago. He used to be so... evil. Especially what he did to the puritan pastor from Dover, more than half his life ago... No... Bad idea... If soft approach fail, he will just bark orders to the guards and intimidate them, as the ex-lieutenant he is. Better find an uniform then.... Maybe later, he will retrieve the crosses and follow Blaise first...

 

[Thateous]

Jacques exits the tavern kitchen and into the bar. Quite a few patrons raise their eyebrow in his direction. Could have been general caution at the site of an unfamiliar face. Jacques was mulatto with a mild muscular build attached to a slightly above average frame. A red scarf covered his neck and there was no facial hair to speak of on his head. For some however, judging by the laughter, it was probably because he was still wearing a cooking apron. He noticed Ulsta entertaining some guests and began to make his way over. He held is right hand high above his head as he maneuvered through the busy tavern. He had to avoid more than one grabby hand on his short trip as the fresh baked baguettes he was touting were beginning to catch the interest of patrons. As he arrived at the table he swept the tray down and nodded to Ulsta. Jacques felt a chill crawl up his spine. He turned his head from one extreme to the other, noting the gaze of the patrons. Clearly these people have not tasted exquisite cuisine, he thought to himself.

OOC: In front of you is a tray with two twelve inch French baguettes drizzled with an olive oil & herbs mixture. Eat your heart out. French Baguette: 1D20+6 = [15]+6 = 21

[/ooc]

 

[Quickleaf]

Blaise takes the proffered hand and raises it to his lips for a kiss. “Allow your conscience to be clear, madame. As Rahab lied to protect the men of God and was honored for it, so does God understand that sometimes the greater good tips the scales and rewards those with the clarity to see it.” He smiles and winks, “At least, that’s what my priest told me when I caught his hands in the alms box as a boy.”

“Blaise Arceneau, at your service. My plans for the evening are perhaps more flexible than you say, but I do intend on having a conversation with the Spaniards. Where that conversation leads,” he pauses his whisper and shrugs his shoulders. “What about yourself, Sophie? After all, a lady does not so boldly approach a man robbing a church while dressed as you are,” his eyes flit to the weapons at her side, “without her own intentions. Who are the Spaniards to you?”

[section]Offering a demure smile, Sophie Trémière feigns relief, "So you are like Rahab, monsieur Arcenaeu? Stealing frocks to save the men of God?" Leaning into him as the chatting priests move about the robing room just around the corner, she reduces her voice to the barest whisper. "My intentions?" Five foot five, and a look that was all trouble. Confused at their missing frocks, one of the priests assumes they've left them in their quarters, and with a chuckle the two priests leave the robing room, giving Sophie and Blaise time to slip out unnoticed.

"The Spaniards have information I need about a new structure of their navy, a secretaría (ministry)," she says in her French accent, keeping her voice low and rearranging her dress to conceal her rapier and fencing accoutrements. "Moreover, I suspect their execution is more to appease vengeful men lacking work than from any wrongdoing while captured. Any governor, pirate or Pontius Pilate, knows an execution placates the masses. Perhaps we could help one another, monsieur Arcenaeu?"[/section]

 

[Queenie]

Meanwhile, back at Blackreef's Tavern...

[SECTION]After a sullen moment perched on the stool, Fulke "Mad Eyes" Smyth snaps back to attention, swaying in his seat with a fish-eating grin. "Here and there, well, mostly here," he raises his thick brows to the roof of the tavern. "Helped Komodo Roy with some smuggling, careened an English merchantman, sold a poem to a passing governess." Smyth winks and taps his nose.

"A hand of Marias it is!" the drunken pirate slaps the table, patting down his coat pockets but struggling to find his deck of cards. Embarrassed to recall he'd lost the cards in a recent wager, Smyth clears his throat, "Well, the Singing Pirates, they aren't welcome in the tavern, see, on account of the...well...the singing. Down by the docks, they are. If they had any religion, they'd probably be a good fit for the choir at that little church up the hill. The tenor is not bad, really." Quaffing the rest of his ale, Smythe wipes his mouth.

"It's a bunch of them against one of me, though. I don't know if I've the strength to take on a chorus of Singing Pirates. Tell ye what, lass, help me win the bet to shut up the Singing Pirates and I'll split my winnings with you 50-and-50. And uh...I'll be able to buy meself a new deck of cards while I'm at it. What do ye say?" Smyth rests one elbow on the table and leans over a bit too close to Katerina, before scanning his bleary eyes across the rest of you seated at the table.

"But if I'm going to be singing, I'll need another drink..."[/SECTION]

"And what do I win if I take pity on you and help you? What'sh the actual wager?" Katerina laughed. "Can I defeat them by throwing knivesh? I'm damned good at THAT." She pushed her cup towards the drunken pirate. "I don't think you need another drink, if you want to win, you probably need shome coffee." She laughed again. "But thish is way more fun."

Suddenly a man in an apron showed up with what was probably the most heavenly smelling food item she'd ever had the pleasure of being near. "What ish this??" She ogled the bread before tearing off a chunk and stuffing it in her mouth.

"By Neptune, did you make thish???" she asked through chews. "It'sh AMAZING."

 

[Thateous]

A slight smile finds its way onto Jacques' lips as he dips his head in response to Katerina's question.