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  • Locked thread
opulent fountain
Aug 13, 2007

Angran

After being helped to the hold by Mathuviel, Angran takes the keys from her hands and starts moving towards the prisoners. "Yeah, yeah, finally we can get them out."

Rattling the keys with each step, he bends down first around Otto and begins to unlock the chains. "No worries. Not leaving you with the rats," he says, mostly a joke since the idea of the drowning rats hadn't occured to him. "Looks like we all get away, today!" Angran, sounding almost happy with everything going better than expected, continues on to Ilsa. "Growt is getting acquainted with the prison life, that smelly, awful, disgusting... He's down outside. We should get there. Aaaandddd, how are we feeling? Everyone can move? Fight and climb and hunt, too, I hope." Angran makes almost sarcastic use of his limbs in the air.

He then treads back to the entrance of the hull and peers out just in time to see Mathuviel flopping all over Kragg. Really, no response comes to mind and he makes a mental shrug. "Watch your step as we leave," he remarks drly, knowing Otto and Ilsa wouldn't get it. He casually watches Mathuviel take her shirt off, then put it back on, and then scale the side. He then tries to look back out to Growt and his new keeper. Cool bunch. He turns back around. "Anything worth keeping here?"

opulent fountain fucked around with this message at 20:19 on Apr 10, 2014

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Lord Hypnostache
Nov 6, 2009

OATHBREAKER
Friedrich

Friedrich stands guard over Growt, while admiring the unknown surroundings and being generally useless.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Otto

Otto stands up, and his legs burn as he regains his footing, his muscles cramping from the extended time off them. Stepping out to the enterance, he takes a deep breath of the sea air. He was free. But what now? He was on a strange shore, with a bunch of strangers, his family and friends still gone, and the corrupt baron who enslaved his village still free to enjoy his wickedness. Indeed, Otto felt more lost than ever.

Waci
May 30, 2011

A boy and his dog.
Ilsa

When Angran comes back to free them, Ilsa sighs with relief and then mentally scolds herself for being surprised and thanks him. The trip might have been hard on her, but that wasn't a reason to expect the same kind of wanton cruelty from her fellow captives. Then she hears that Growt is still alive. A surprise, very much so, but a pleasant one. Clearly the others had some of Shallya's mercy in them. As she follows Angran out of the hold, she wonders whether she'd been strong enough be as merciful.

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Growt gives a bitter laugh in response to Erik's questioning. "By Sven's Bloody Hand, how should I know where we are? Do I look like the ship's navigator? No -- the Sea of Claws, she snatched him up, the poor bastard! If you want him, you can go look for him in her soggy bosom!" he howls over the raging wind, looking drunkenly toward the storm-tossed waves.

"You fancy you'll have a swim back to your homes and your families, if only you are pointed in the right direction?" he continues, sneering. "The sword and the chains, they may have switched owners," he says, looking down to his manacled ankles, "but that matters less than a goblin's fart in a gale-storm -- we're all of us nought but Stromfels' peg boys now, aren't we?" The vile man suddenly shifts his attention, ignoring Erik entirely to leer after Mathuviel as she removes her sodden clothing. But once she disappears onto the ship's deck, he reluctantly returns his unsteady gaze to his interrogator. "As for where we were headed -- that doesn't much matter now, does it? If you had half the wit I do, you'd stop your useless questioning and just salvage a bottle of rum for yourself from the wreckage before she's dragged down to join Skar Sea-Lord in his resting place beneath the waves."
----

As she gains the main deck, Mathuviel sees that the ship is a chaotic ruin -- her bowsprit has been bent upward to point accusingly toward the stormclouds, while the mast has splintered, with a large section of the massive timber falling directly athwart the hatch to the forward hold. There is precious little left of the sails, though there is quite a lot of rope dangling from the shredded rigging or scattered across the deck. The small wheelhouse on the raised aft deck has collapsed, and the aft cabin above which it sat has had its door torn from its hinges. Though the forward hatch is completely inaccessible, the aft hatch seems to be clear of debris.

One thing she sees no sign of is the crew, nor the remainder of the slaves that had been brought up from below during the storm. As she continues to cast her gaze about, the vessel gives a slight lurch and a shudder as it is lifted ever so slightly by a particularly large wave. Those on the beach -- including those who emerged just moments before from the cramped hold -- struggle to maintain their footing as the wave breaks around them. Growt, his balance already compromised by both the shackles and the drink he had consumed, pitches face-first into the sand.


Scale Sheer Surface is Str-based, incidentally, but Mathuviel succeeds regardless. Angran, perhaps obviously, finds nothing of value within the forward hold itself, but there is plenty more ship to explore. And if wood or rope is what all of you are after, there's a whole boat's worth of splintered planks and frayed rigging that can be gathered -- at least until the sea carries the rest away. Just to be clear, though, the boat's not going anywhere, nor is the beach in danger of being submerged -- yet.

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 00:35 on Apr 14, 2014

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel surveys the scene in mute appreciation of the havoc the forces of nature (and Chaos, if rumours concerning the Sea of Claws are right) can bring to bear. Although little love is lost for the slaver's sailors or the mysterious man who had purchased them, the elven thief spares some sympathy for the unfortunates brought up to help man the oars. Human or not, to die in such ill-omened waters is a poor fate.

Yet thoughts of sympathy do not stay long, her own fate takes priority. There is plenty to do before something else attempts to grant her a miserable death, and so she seizes onto a length of rope that appears mostly whole and starts to gather it up in her arms. After disentangling it from the wreck of the deck she ties one end securely to the fallen mast and tosses the rest of the length over the side for her associates to climb up.

"Plenty of salvage up here!" she cries, then heads over to investigate what might be left inside the aft cabin.

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Really?
Erik

The Norscan sneers quietly as Growt talks, but when the man pauses and adjusts how he stands, Erik turns to follow his gaze. Upon realizing WHY the fat old slaver is leering, Erik balls his fist and slugs the man square in the nose, hoping to break it and bring the man's attention back to him. Erik looks absolutely disgusted, shaking his hand to fleck away any blood or whatever else may have come from the blow, and he moves to stand directly in Growt's line of sight.

"You are a pig, Growt, and you do not seem to be taking me very seriously. My people are known for berserking, and yet here I am, face to face with the man who has caused me so much pain and hurt, and I am calm. I am angry, and I am calm." He leans in closer, ignoring the smell, his brow darkening. "A smart man would be scared. But we know you are no smart man." He looks over to Friedrich, then back to Growt. When next he speaks, it is in hushed Norse.

"If the simple one were gone, I would be holding you face first in the surf, and it would look like an accident. You would have fallen, and I would have felt it unnecessary to help you up. Learn your new place, Growt. I will kill you, in spite of what I said in front of the others. And it will not be a simple death. It will not be quick. You will bleed out in the sand and the crabs will eat upon your intestines while you still live, and you will hate me for it. You will ignore all else, you will not consider redemption for your life of sin, but you will hate me. Because you are a fool."

Moments later, when Growt does pitch forward face first into the sand, Erik calmly and gently places a foot between the man's shoulder-blades; he is cautious not to put a lot of force there, only enough to let Growt know he can be held down, and should the fat slaver thrash or roll, Erik will simply step back and glare down at the man.

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Since we're out of combat, I'll just respond to people's posts as they come in, until everyone finishes doing their own separate thing and some sort of group cohesion reasserts itself.
Mathuviel's got both Sleight of Hand and Scale Sheer Surface, so I figure she can tie a basic knot without difficulty. Now anybody who wants to can climb up onto the deck without a Skill Test.


Mathuviel discovers that the aft cabin is extremely well appointed, though the contents have been violently tossed about. It takes only a moment for her professional training (as it were) to assert itself, at which point she recognizes that the room was ransacked rather than simply being subject to the more random disarray caused by the storm and the shipwreck. The silks that had covered the bed have been sliced to ribbons, the chest in the corner has been smashed open and its contents -- including a few articles of dry clothing -- carelessly scattered. The writing desk has been upended, the inkpot and the crystal decanter that had stood upon it are both shattered, the dark liquids they contained mixing and staining the finely-woven rug bunched up on the floor.

----

After being struck, Growt bares his teeth and makes to lunge at Erik, before thinking better of it and instead satisfying himself with simply glaring spitefully at the Norscan. Once the wave knocks him off his feet, however, he remains sprawled in the surf, apparently too drunk to notice the waves threatening to drown him.

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel is quick to raise her eyebrows at the mess before her. Who has done this...? Growt? Probably. He is the only other survivor her group has seen. Better to consider, perhaps, is what had he been on such frantic lookout for among the stashed fineries of their buyer.

Whatever it was, Mathuviel doubts he found it. Growt was a brute; he had base cunning, sure, but little wit, he would not know where rich toffs squirelled their goods... and besides, her search through his pockets for the keys had not lifted anything else of note. A more thorough search here would be warranted.

First things first however. She could do with drying up and getting a wardrobe upgrade... and, really, it would be simply criminal to leave that much good silk, even in tatters. A plan formulated itself in her mind; salvage the silk, search through the clothes and make a few choice picks for herself, pack it all in the chest, then search the room once she'd got some of the obvious stuff squared away.

Searching the clothes for anything dry that fits and can be swapped out with the slaves' own gear (although Mathuviel with happily snatch a cloak for her own). Salvaging the ruined silken bed for potentially sellable cloth scraps, towels and/or bandages.

Packing it all in the smashed-open chest for ease of transport, unless it's been literally smashed to pieces, then it's lootpile o' clock. Giving the rest a chance to post and be present before I Perception the room and run off with anything that isn't nailed down.

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Kragg Gehanborson


My sodden clothes dragged on me like lead armor as I arduously scaled the side of the ship once more. This time, with the aid of Mathuviel's rope, I reached the top without incident. The very first thing I do is find myself a shattered piece of oar small enough to shove through my belt and leave my hands free. It wasn't much of a basher, but it'd do in a pinch I reckoned.

TychoBrahesNose posted:

the aft cabin above which it sat has had its door torn from its hinges.

"Look out below!" I tossed the door over the railing and scrambled back down to grab it and drag it to shore before the waves could carry it away. Before heading back up I tried to round up a boarding party. "There's another hold on this ship! Possibly with food, or other survivors. Stir yourselves and get moving, we should loot it dry before we lose her!"

Kragg will drag a few more loads of wood, rope, and some oars to shore while waiting for the others and then explore the aft hold on his own if no-one else joins him.

I'm guessing at least some of the oars were smashed up in the crash or the storm, but if they didn't he'll snap the part you hold off an intact one to make his "club"

Waci
May 30, 2011

A boy and his dog.
Ilsa

Tired from the less-than-pleasant journey, Ilsa tries to climb up to the main deck of the ship, but, having never been particularly agile or athletic to begin with, can't make it even close to being able to reach the deck. Trusting that the others would have the sense to take anything useful from the ship, she instead heads off to see what kind of place they had crashed in. She climbs the rocks on the shore, heading inland, but taking care to not go out of earshot of the others.

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Really?
Erik

Erik stares down pitilessly at the drunken Growt. He shifts his gaze up slightly, towards the waves, and after a long, silent moment, the Norscan sighs and plants his foot firmly in the fat man's ribs. "Roll over, slaver. You will drown if you do not move, and it will not be my fault. As much as I would wish you dead, I do not want you spitting sea water on me as you struggle to escape your own stupid fate."

He glances towards the boat, where the dwarf is throwing supplies down from the deck of the ship. He spies Ilsa wandering off, and scratches his chin in thought. She was a sister of mercy, yet she did not even approach Growt. Perhaps her mercy had its limits.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Otto

Otto, now free, starts looking around the ship for salvage, focusing on the as yet unsearched aft hull. He doesn't expect that the ship will hold together much longer, and if there's anything that will help him and the group survive, he wants to find it now while he has the chance.

Perception Test, Int 27 +10% (Excellent Vision)

Perception roll (Against 37): 1d100 61

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Mathuviel manages to collect a silk brocade shirt, some linen pants, a pair of soft silken slippers, and a variety of woolen undergarments. On top of that, she figures the bedsheets will make a half dozen or so bandages. Stuffing whatever she does not don herself into the chest, she turns her attention to the rest of the room.

Give me a Search roll.

Kragg finds that there are still a number of belaying pins in the deck railing, and he avails himself of one of the makeshift weapons before gathering up armload after armload of wood and rope and tossing it overboard. With no protection from the howling wind or the stinging salt spray, his hands and feet are good and numb by the time he has finished his task.

Untrained Perception: 1d100 46
Kragg doesn't find much else of use, but the utility of the belaying pins is obvious. Apart from their use in securing lines, such pins were intended to be used as backup weapons if a sailor found himself otherwise unarmed -- at SB-2, it's not quite as good as an actual club, but it's certainly not as bad as an Improvised Weapon. There's also more than enough rope and wood for your purposes.


Peering down into the aft hold, Otto sees what passes for a crew cabin. He finds to his disappointment (and alarm) that it is already partially submerged. He can just make out several burst casks of water and wine, as well as torn bags of foodstuffs spilling their contents into the brackish water. Some sodden sleeping furs and other personal items are strewn about the hold as well. As he descends the ladder to stand in the knee-deep (and rising!) water, he spies more objects toward the back of the hold, including a barrel of whale blubber, another barrel partially full of salted cod, a stoppered skin full of some type of liquid, and more sailing gear, such as rope and sailcloth. It is likely that there are more items that have fallen to the deck, but given the complete lack of lighting, he cannot make anything out beneath the surface of the water.

If Otto succeeds at a Toughness test to withstand the frigid water, he can make another Perception test to fumble about for anything of interest below the waterline.

Despite her weakened state, Ilsa eventually manages to clamber up the steep slope to get a view of the rest of the island beyond, though she is dirty and shivering by the time she reaches a reasonable vantage point. Unfortunately, there is not much to see -- on her left, steep hills covered in thick scrubby bushes march away into the distance, while on her right are more gently rolling hills covered in slightly less dense vegetation. There is no sign whatsoever of civilization, though visibility is quite low given the torrential downpour scouring the island.

Perception: 1d100 48
Yeah, this place is as desolate as it looks.


Erik rolls Growt over, and he eventually sits up, coughing and spluttering. He stares without recognition at Erik, until the next wave breaks over him and he lurches to his feet in dismay. The waves continue to press higher up the narrow strip of sand, and Erik reckons they will be forced off the beach soon.

There's still time for at least one more round in which to Greyhawk the ship (especially if Angran and/or Friedrich join in), but beyond that is starting to push it…

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 13:26 on May 3, 2014

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Pants and woolen undergarments replace Mathuviel's own torn and sodden trousers with indecent haste while the silk shirt and slippers, items of value and arguably not that much of an upgrade beyond being dry (something the rain would swiftly correct), are gingerly bundled and put at the bottom of the chest, the other articles of clothing being placed on top along with the bandages. Nice enough on their own, but not much in the way of essentials.

Yet taking things for her own again does much to cheer Mathuviel, and with her pilfering comes the feeling that it all will turn out alright. After all, she's free and wearing their would-be master's undies, while the guy himself is presumably bobbing in the Sea of Claws, and good riddance. Growt is subdued and chained up. She may even have made a friend or two, people she might be able to trust, a little. What more could an elf ask for?

"An idea of where we are, for one. Get a grip, Matti. This isn't over by a long shot," mutters her more cynical half in Eltharin. Her focus returns to the rest of the aft cabin. The place still requires a good once-over for hidden stashes. The writing desk might contain one or something can have been put elsewhere, out of sight and out of mind...

Well, out of most minds.

Search, 32, 7, 2 DoS

All is forgiven, Orokos.

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
The writing desk does not contain any hidden compartments, though on the floor beneath it Mathuviel finds a small vial of perfume that somehow managed to survive the ransacking and the shipwreck. She soon realizes to her dismay that whoever tossed the room before her did a very thorough job of it -- her in-depth search yields nothing else beyond some morsels of food that have been ground into the fabric of the rug, until...

Jackpot!

Beneath the bed, under a loose plank in the deck, Mathuviel discovers a small exquisitely-made wooden coffer, about 1 foot by 1 foot by 2 feet in size. It is lacquered black and wrapped in sailcloth, and the latch is secured with an ornate lock covered in silver scrollwork. As she extracts the box from its hiding place, she can tell that it contains something quite heavy, though from the lack of metallic rattling noises the contents are most likely not coins.

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 05:56 on Oct 18, 2014

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Kragg Gehanborson


As I stood behind Otto while he lifted the hatch to the aft hold I shivered. It was more than just the cold wind howling as it pressed the dripping wet rags of my clothes against me. More even than just standing on an unnatural abomination like a boat. I shivered from fear of what evils might wait within the hold. We'd been attacked as soon as we'd left the forehold; and then the boat itself had tried to kill me by throwing me from it's side when I tried to scale it. At least I had my belaying pin, a better weapon than I'd hoped to find. A gasp of relief was dragged out of me when I saw the hold was empty. Still I couldn't bring myself to enter the aft hold. It was too much like where we'd been chained, and anything could be lurking beneath the water, anything at all.

Ashamed, I turned away, and busied myself searching for anything of value tucked underneath the rower's benches. Men were foolish and liked to keep their valuables close to them. I had often supplemented my income by remembering this rule. They lacked the wisdom of Dwarves who know that the proper place to hide your valuables is deep within the earth. Deeper is better.

frigid water vs toughness: 1d100u41 52 - fluffed as boat fear turning possible phobia
Untrained Perception: 1d100 74


Making up for my prior good luck now.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Otto

Otto wants to look for more useful items in the hold, but the water is just too cold and rising fast. Grabbing the rope and the skin of liquid, he runs up to the (comparatively warm and dry) deck. They've got to get off of this boat, fast, he realizes, because none of them would last long in this water.

Toughness Roll (Against 36): 1d100 83

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel's lips curl up into an appreciative smile as she brushes her hands against the silvered lock. This was no man's junk trunk. Carefully hidden, sizable, quality work, weighty... whatever was presently inside had been valuable to the rich toff that had stayed here. Best she go to tell the others.

"Guess what! We have ourselves what I call a score!" she cries, no small amount of elation in her voice, while she strains to drag both clothes-chest and lockbox out into the rain and towards the edge of the deck. It is slow going, alone, and seeing Kragg over by the rower's benches, she motions for him to come help her.

"Could use a hand, Kragg, whatever's in here is hefty, but probably valuable since Growt's boss had hid it from him. Found some spare clothes too, by the way, not dwarf-size, but I'm sure we can improvise. How are we doing for supplies?"

The bigger the bling, the greater the glee.

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
As Otto splashes his way out of the hold with a few precious items, Kragg recoils from the hatch. Fortunately, Mathuviel calls for his attention, saving him from having to descend into the water to acquire anything else. Just then, the ship groans ominously as it is lifted off of the beach. After a few moments, it settles back much lower in the water, and with a significantly greater list. The lurching motion causes the already-weakened structure of the aft cabin to collapse entirely -- fortunately, Mathuviel had just moved out to the main deck, and so she escapes uninjured.

Meanwhile, the tide continues to march up the beach, causing Growt to squint at the waves sloshing over his boots. He looks furtively at his captor before grumbling to himself in Norscan, "Manann's soggy beard, are we just going to stand about with our thumbs in our arses while the water closes over our heads?"


OK, everybody out of the pool! I recommend you take the lead of Ilsa, who has already found a route off of the beach.

Lord Hypnostache
Nov 6, 2009

OATHBREAKER
Friedrich

Friedrich feels the cold water on his feet. He has no shoes and it feels uncomfortable. He turns to Erik, and says
"Should we get going? It's getting cold, but I'm pretty sure we can find an inn before sunset."

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel swears as she nearly tumbles to the deck under the weight of her loot and the boat's sudden shift. If she had spent a few moments more in that cabin... well, no use thinking about it. Fate was nothing if not an old tease. With a look over at Kragg and Otto, the elven thief gestures towards the railing where her first rope is still tied off.

"Time to leave, fellas, and get our stash off the shore. Ahoy! Norscan, everyone! Let's start hauling poo poo!" she shouts, eager to be done with this desolate beach and the doomed ship that had brought them here.

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Kragg Gehanborson

There definitely was not an unsteady quiver in my voice as I answered Mathuviel. Dwarves dislike the ocean, we do not fear it. Definitely no quiver at all: "I did not find anything I care to eat. There is plenty of pitch soaked wood ashore now. We will not freeze tonight at least. Even grabbed a door to make part of a lean-to with."

Helping her carry the chest back to shore was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. The water wrapped around my legs felt like slime and I swear I could feel its cold grasp trying to drag me back and bury me beneath its ceaseless waves. As soon as we got to shore I yanked it out of her grasp and dashed up above the tide line with it. Well above the tide line I fell to my knees, gasping with exertion. Only exertion.

Mix one part hydrophobia with one part narrator lying to himself. Following Ilsa inland.

Waci
May 30, 2011

A boy and his dog.
Ilsa

Returning form her short scouting trip, Ilsa sees the others getting off the sinking ship. Decent timing, then. "Come, this way. There's nothing much up there, but at least it's drier." She motions to the way up the rocks onto the island proper. Looking at the ragged group, she realises just how little of pretty much everything they have. "Nobody would have happened to find anything resembling medical supplies, or at least something that would pass for bandages, would they?"

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Really?
Erik

With the others preparing to march in-land, Erik leans down and grabs onto Growt underneath his armpits, hauling the man to his feet with a grunt. He gives the slaver an uncharitable shove towards the others. "March. We will decide what to do with you later, but for now, we will not simply leave you to die of your own fat stupidness."

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Otto

Otto takes Ilsa's path up. "I think we got some bandages, and, failing that, some clothes we could make rags out of", he says in response to Ilsa's request for first aid supplies. He sits on a rock and looks at the rest of the survivors. "Who's hurt?" He picks up a piece of grass and then chews it. "Way I see it, we're all in deep poo poo. We don't know where we are or even what our status is. Are we slaves? Will people be looking for us? On the other hand, we're not underwater, and we're chained up on the ship anymore, so that's a plus. First thing we need to do is figure out how to stay alive, as I see it, then figure out where we are. Anybody have any skills to help us do that? I can trap food and blaze a trail, if that helps."

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Growt complains vehemently as he stumbles up the crumbling slope ahead of Erik, "Malor's puckered arse, man, there's no need to push! I want off this gods-forsaken beach as much as you do!"

Despite numbness beginning to set in to their fingers and toes, the rest of the survivors manage to drag their meager supplies to the crest of the hill. As they survey the area in the wan light of the storm-shrouded sun, however, they see nought but hilly, brush-covered terrain extending ahead of them. The only noticeable distinction in the monotonous desolation is that the hills to their left seem to be steeper than those to their right. All the while, the piercing wind and stinging rain continue to make every movement a miserably frigid and sodden experience.

The conversation that had begun among the group is interrupted by Growt loudly breaking wind. As their attention turns to him, he greedily eyes the skin of liquid slung over Otto's shoulder, and he asks, "'Ey, you, Trail Blazer! You gonna drink that?"


Assuming Mathuviel offers the bandages, Ilsa can make Healing Tests to treat those who are injured (Mathuviel, Angran, Otto). She does in fact have sufficient supplies, including clean bandages and alcohol, to make such tests at the normal level of difficulty. A successful test heals 1d10 wounds.

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 05:00 on May 5, 2014

Lord Hypnostache
Nov 6, 2009

OATHBREAKER
Friedrich

Friedrich is confused. There are inns everywhere, so it's not like they're in that much trouble. Maybe the survival skill survey was just an attempt at small talk. Yes, that must be it.
"Oh aye, I too know how to trap rabbits, foxes and birds. Maybe even bigger animals too, though that is going to be tricky. And if you find some herbs and berries, I can make a pretty darn good stew."

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Still hauling the fancy lockbox, Mathuviel nods at Otto and Ilsa and gestures towards the chest Kragg is carrying. She doesn't even deign to acknowledge Growt's odiousness and thirst.

"Bandages are in the busted chest, Shallyan-whose-name-I-forget. I salvaged a fair bit of silken cloth, remnants from our previous owner's bed. He had himself a very luxurious cabin... and a well-hidden stash. Growt had practically turned the place upside down looking for it," she comments with a self-satisfied smirk at the former slaver and pats the lid of the box for good measure. "Ours now. It's locked, so I'll try opening it later. For now I'd welcome any attention you could give my arms."

The elf folds up her tattered sleeves and presents her bloodied wrists to Ilsa. A few welts and bruises run around the area where her shackles had torn at them in the ship's crash, and the elf quickly looks away from the wounds, uncomfortable at the sight of them, and her own blood. Trying to focus on other things, she latches on to Otto's words.

"Our status... should it become an issue, here's my suggestion: We're just a bunch of unfortunates caught in this wicked storm and shipwrecked here, retainers of a Marienburg merchant, 'Master Corville Leklerk'. We got waylaid by norscan raiders. We won, of course, but both ships got badly damaged and we had to abandon our former ship and jump onto the norscan one. After days of drifting, we finally hit shore here, most of our former crew dead from the fight or the storm. Growt there's a captive from the battle. I'm a scout and archer, a mercenary. Pick your own roles, just keep the story consistent. Or we can make up a different story. I don't care what, as long as we don't talk about things that might get us chained up again."

While Ilsa tends to her wounds, the elf continues to keep herself busy and distracted, scanning the landscape to the left and right for signs of life or civilization while she considers what else to say and what to not. "As for my skills, you've seen some of them already, and it's not a lie that I can string a bow--much good that does us without one--and I do know how to move carefully and quietly while keeping my eyes open. Mind you, I much prefer city life to the outdoors. I haven't really hunted or trapped anything for at least half a human lifetime, ever since..."

Mathuviel's words and gaze trail off an unknown distance into the past, to a time and place she'd rather not revisit. She blinks a few times. Clears her throat.

"drat the pain. So inconsiderate. Where was I? Oh, yes... ever since I left home to become a disappointment to my parents," she finishes in a mock cheerful tone.

Welp. She got distracted.

Perception, 42, 95, 5 DoF

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Kragg Gehanborson

"That is a pretty fine line of patter, Mafffuu." drat, still can't pronounce her name. "Elf. I can play the role of a mineral assessor. Folks will not blink twice at a dwarven miner with a fancy title." Kragg clenches his hands. "As for survival skills. My best skill is convincing other travelers to help us out by donating some of their possessions. I can be very persuasive. I could also build a stone house or firepit on tick, double quick. I do not think this is a good place to spend the rest of our lives. So close to the sea that nearly killed us. We should press on cross country until the light fades. Hope to see a road or other sign of civilization."

LLSix fucked around with this message at 03:06 on May 9, 2014

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Otto

Otto holds the waterskin tightly. "Better to spill it out than give it to you.", he says to Growt. "The only way I'd give you water is if it's that swill you gave us on the boat. You don't deserve better."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Really?
Erik

Erik glowers at the elf's suggested plan, spitting on the ground. "Yes, reinforce the stereotype of me and my people, and get me recaptured the minute we hit civilization. It works wonders for you." He gives the slaver another shove. "Your story has many holes and is very ignorant, but it would likely work in only getting yourselves free and me and the fat one killed."

"Growt is also not Norscan, he barely speaks the language. And if he were, it would make no sense for me to capture him rather than kill him. Though I suppose that much can be fixed now. He knows nothing, and we have no use for him; we show him mercy he does not show us, and if we do not feed and water him, he will die regardless."

"Regardless, we must keep moving."

Waci
May 30, 2011

A boy and his dog.
Ilsa
Ilsa nods to Mathuviel, takes the bandages from the chest, and starts attending to the elf's wrists. She cleans the wounds the best as she can before bandaging them, but it's clear the elf's wrists would take some time to heal properly. She explains as much to her. "Try to keep them clean. We don't really have the resources to deal with an infection if one takes place, and who knows how far the nearest temple of Shallya is."

Finished with one of her elven patients, Ilsa realises she doesn't actually know what to call them. She'd really have to learn their names. Keeping track of who was who in her mind was one thing, but actually talking to people might require names rather than her mental categorisations. But that could be done later. For now, she moves over from the elf with pretty hands to the elf with the big nose. Angran looks battered, like all of them, but at least most of them didn't have blood seeping through their shirts. "Mind if I take a look at your chest? Think you were thrown quite badly when the ship crashed."

Mathuviel treated successfully, heals 1 wound. :welp:
Will also treat Otto and Angran if Epicurius and dichloroisocyanuric want me to. Feel free to act (and roll) on my behalf for those unless you want some sort of actual interaction.

Waci fucked around with this message at 19:36 on May 10, 2014

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel blinks in surprise at Erik and gives the man an annoyed look that dispels the last of the ennui from her expression. Taken aback by Erik's reaction, she wonders why he feels so strongly that his own reputedly savage people deserves a fairer assessment, when, really, the Empire is only a few short steps up from that at its best. She doesn't spend long doing so, however, as she now has a problem in the shape of an irate norscan. Sighing, acknowledging the need for some appeasement, she shrugs apologetically while the Shallyan finished binding up her wounds, giving the fellow female a long-suffering look in private.

"Thank you. And I agree we should move on. We can speak on this matter if you want norscan, but suffice to say you've mistook my intentions. There's no reason why you couldn't be working for a Marienburg merchant, the town's got all kinds, and if you want to defy stereotypes, you already have. Compared to that", she gestures at Growt, "you seem like a paragon of human civilization to me."

Having offered at least a token apology, Mathuviel points off at two points in the distance she has vaguely defined in her head.

"So, to the taller hills or the lower ones? I say lower, although we may get a better view from farther up if the storm clears, the first thing we really should find is shelter and the lower hills will take less effort to climb. But I'll go where you go. Safety in numbers."

John Dyne
Jul 3, 2005

Well, fuck. Really?
Erik

"The southern Empire does not care if you are a good Norscan or a bad Norscan, elf. Bad Norscans make good Norscans bad; I was arrested for simply stating I am a Norscan sell sword. My people are known to link with the darker powers, and we all pay the price for it."

Erik meets Mathuviel's eyes, his brow darkening. "It does not matter what YOU think, elf. It matters what the magistrate will think, or any idiot with a sword and a sense of justice. I would rather not be introduced as Norscan at all, for my own safety."

Once more, Erik shoves Growt; he seemed to enjoy bullying the bully. [b]"But again, Growt is not Norscan."[/b[

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Since dichloroisocyanuric isn't around, I'll roll for Ilsa's healing:
Healing: 1d100 3
Healing: 1d10 7
And for Otto as well, because why not?
Healing: 1d100 17
Otto only had 1 Wound, so he and Angran are completely healed. After all that, Ilsa still has enough bandages for three more future Healing tests.

Every one who has expressed an opinion seems to be in favor of moving on, but are there any preferences between the two options that Mathuviel has laid out for you all?

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer
Mathuviel Thylenin

Mathuviel throws her bandaged arms in the air. First he complains, then he makes the argument moot. Gods, it leaves her wondering whether he will he be this bellicose every time she accidentally offends his sensibilities, or just most times. Either way, this may become a long trip. Or a silent one. She can always hold her tongue. Probably. Knowing her luck with humans, that is not a sure bet.

"You believed I... baahh, I give! Say whatever you want. I won't speak for you and never intended to. I tried coming up with a coherent story, but if you or anyone else want to suggest a better one, then be my guest," she says grumpily, then quickly puts a hand to her brow and rubs at the crease that formed there until it fades somewhat.

"Look, I'm cold. Hungry. Tired. We all are, so let's pick what passes for a path around here and get moving. We need to find some shelter so we can sleep."

Right, I got a couple things confused. I misread and thought Erik said Growt barely spoke the common tongue, not that he barely spoke norscan. This is of interest, but Matti's too frustrated with Erik's comments to think about it at the moment. No offense by that, Dyne, you're doing great.

LLSix
Jan 20, 2010

The real power behind countless overlords

Seconding lower hills.

Lord Hypnostache
Nov 6, 2009

OATHBREAKER
Friedrich, son of Franz

Friedrich contemplates quietly about his role. He can be anything he wants to be. Well, not absolutely anything, he can't pretend to be a dragon. But out of things that exist, he can pick and choose whatever he wants. Naturally, it never occurs to Friedrich that maybe the role should be based on his appearance or skills. Plausibility has too many syllables for Friedrich.

The heated discussion between Mathuviel and Erik is interrupted by an excited shout:
"I am a knight of the Reiksguard!"

Thirding lower hills

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TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Growt grows more and more dejected as Ilsa uses up more and more of the alcohol to sanitize the bandages before applying them to her compatriots' wounds. But upon hearing Friedrich's outburst, the repugnant slaver laughs uproariously. "Ha! I have a greater chance of getting your Shallyan friend to shed her shift for me than you do of becoming a Peer of the Empire." After musing to himself briefly, he continues, "Then again, who truly knows the will of the gods, eh, Sir Knight? Perhaps Shallya will grant me a bit of mercy after all." Recovering his vile demeanor, he calls out to Ilsa, "What say you, Bleeding Heart? Would you like to care for me as well?" He sniggers obscenely before casting a worried glance at Erik and falling silent.

Lower hills it is; I'll assume you all move on once the current conversation runs its course.

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 13:26 on May 11, 2014

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