The Antigrol Tide (IC)

[Drowned Hero]

The fiery rum burns down Troth's throat, momentarily taking his mind off the throbbing in his knee.

After have beeing groaming about his pain the sweet and strong rum eases his pain. "what in the whole sea was that wind cast?" "it came so sudently!" He lies on his back, lift his knee and looks at the swelling "ain't looking good"

 

[jkason]

Magyar Rhineholdt, human rogue

Mag nods at the gnome's instructions, though he delays the search for items long enough to keep Grondor upright in his trek to the mess. Last thing the man needs is another fall.

Once the thug is settled, Mag collects the items Colmarr requested, then heads back to tend ot Troth's knee.

"Treatment by order of the gnome," Mag says with his best entertainer's grin.

 

[Strahd_Von_Zarovich]

Grondar - Human Thug

Grondar zig zag to the officer's mess and lay over there.
still holding the bandage on his head he awaits to Colmarr's orders.
I think I can feel my brain
he says with an idiotic smile to Colmarr.
Ohh... rum he says when Mag enters
Can I get some?
he looks again at Mag.
Tell Denther to find this ship, I have a strange feeling they have something with this gust and they are going to pay!

 

[unleashed]

Colmarr Blackrock, Male Gnome Bard

Walking into the mess still singing, Colmarr sees Grondar has been placed face down on the table. Seeing Grondar’s wits haven’t completely deserted him as he is still holding the bloody handkerchief to his head, he wonders if that’s entirely correct when Grondar comments about feeling his brain. “Son if you can feel your brain there’s not much I can do,” Colmarr quips, climbing up on a bench next to the table, “Well let’s have a look at it then.” Taking Grondar’s hand off, he lifts the cloth, “Oh, nothing but a nasty gash, you’ll live...I guess you haven’t had one before, but head wounds tend to bleed a lot.”

Waiting until Magyar enters with the rest of the bucket of seawater, Colmarr opens the bag and gets out the healers kit, then says, “Well Grondar, if it’s rum you want you’ll get a dose, but not until we start stitching, I don’t want you bleeding more than you already are.” Grabbing a clean cloth, Colmarr first washes the wound with seawater. He then gives Grondar a dose of rum, and with Magyar holding the flaps of skin he stitches the wound closed with neat little stitches. Cleaning up the stitched wound with a little more seawater, he also washes his hands before applying a piece of clean cloth over the wound and wrapping a bandage around Grondar’s head to hold it on.

“There that should do. Now Magyar please take Grondar to my cabin, it might be a little cramped, but I want someone to be with him for a while just in case it starts bleeding again or he falls unconscious. Troth should be able to shout out if something goes wrong, and I’ll be down here for a while yet. Oh and toss what’s left of the seawater, seeing as it’s all bloody now, and bring a fresh bucket back to my cabin so Troth can wet the cloth for his knee periodically. Then get yourself back on deck Magyar and report to Braer, I’m sure he’ll have something for you to do by then,” Colmarr says, issuing his orders with a grin.

Colmarr then waits the proscribed time, cleaning the table in the mess and checking on his patients, before knocking on the captains door once again, bag in hand...

 

[jkason]

Magyar Rhineholdt, human rogue

Mag's Uncle Sirus did a psychic surgery act. Lots of dye-filled bladders and fake tumors. The sight of real blood wasn't all that different, but knowing it was real blood--and real flesh being sewn together--did odd things to Mag's stomach. There was a little knotting, a gurgle he was sure the whole ship could hear but no one seemed to remark upon.

He helped Grondar back to the cabin feeling slightly quesy himself.

"Colmarr says to yell if Grondar's looking worse or starts to bleed again," Mag says quickly, then rushes back out with the bloody bucket, sprinting out his words as he leaves: "Igottagetmorewaterbackinasec,"

On the deck, Mag takes a moment to breathe in the fresher air and steady himself, then he dumps the old bucket and returns a clean batch of water to Troth for his knee before finding his way to the wheel of the ship and Braer.

"Master Colmarr's done with me, Sir, so he said I should report for any work need doing?"

 

[Mallak]

Colmarr seems to have done a fairly competent job with Grondar's head. His stitches are neat and precise. Afterwards, it occurs to him that a cleverly-applied mending spell could do for flesh what it does for other broken or torn items.

In Colmarr's cabin, there's no place for Grondar to lie down, so he sits with his back to the wall opposite the door. The rum is quite potent stuff, and both Troth and Grondar feel as if the edge has been taken off their pain. Grondar is even feeling a bit tipsy; he can usually hold his alchohol quite well, but under the circumstances, his lightheadednes is probably to be expected.

Up on deck, the golden rays of the sun have almost vanished beyond the distant peaks. Denthar's eyes are beginning to feel strained and blurry, and the impending twilight isn't helping matters any.

In the rigging, N'un T'Chauck is keeping a competent eye on the sails. There's a rope down below that could use tightening. It's too bad there are two men out of commission.

At the helm, Braer realizes that Denthar has had quite a long watch and could probably use a break. Besides, a fresh pair of eyes in the oncomming gloom would be handy, especially if that ship is still back there. Braer knows that he likely has the best nightvision in the crew, but he's needed at the helm. His duties as first mate don't allow him to sit in the crow's nest like a common sailor, even if he wanted to. Of course, what he "should" do has never dictated his actions in the past. Still, he is trying to avoid attracting unwanted attention. But then, what does this narrator know about Braer's internal monologue?

Down below, Colmarr knocks at the captain's door . . .

 

[magic_gathering2001]

"Denthar, do you need a break yet?" Brear calls up to the helm finally thinking of a way to postpone the monotony of life at sea.

 

[MummyKitty]

With two men down, Noonchuck realizes he should prepare for a possible night in the rigging. "Braer, I need to come down for a moment to prepare for the nightfall. Just a short break."

Noonchuck climbs quickly down the rigging and heads for his cabin (or designated quarters), first pausing to tie down the line that needed tightening that he noticed earlier. From his belongings, he gathers some slightly warmer clothing and quickly changes into them. Though he's used to cold temperatures, it always seems colder up in the rigging at night so no sense freezing if he doesn't have to. He also grabs his waterskin and a large piece of smoked fish. He then sallies forth back onto the deck and into the rigging, resuming his position trimming the sails.

 

[Mallak]

All of the crew's personal effects being stored in the cargo hold, N'un T'Chauck heads down into the belly of the ship to collect his belongings. It takes a bit of searching around, as Grondar has moved everything to make it more secure, but eventually he finds what he's seeking.

When N'un T'Chauck resumes his position on deck he sees that, for the moment, things appear to be clear sailing. He doesn't need to zip into the rigging just yet. That time will come, no doubt, but for now he can rest in preperation for the long evening.

 

[Mallak]

Down below, a gruff voice answers Colmarr's knock. "Come!" Colmarr enters the room.

It is a spacious room compared to the others on the ship, as befits the Captain, but it feels cramped with all the furnishings crammed into it. A large captain's bed stretches from hull to hull along the stern, which is pierced with several brass-bound glass portholes. Taking up the remainder of the port wall is a large roll-top desk with an armchair fastened firmly before it. The desk is very old and made of oak, and it has several locks about it. On the other side of the cabin is a large seaman's press made of cedar, presumably for storing clothes. A gimballed lantern hanging from the ceiling bathes the room in a deep yellow glow. A lamp is fastened to the desk.

The captain's bulk fills the chair in front of the desk. As Colmarr enters, he closes the roll-top and locks it with a small iron key, on a ring with others like it, which he replaces in his pocket. He then swivels to look at the gnome. The entire chair seat, back, and armrests rotate atop their stationary base!

"Well, what do you have to report, my gnomish fellow? Who's injured? How badly? What's the situation topside? Have they seen any sign of that ship again? How's the crew's morale? Well? Report!"