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[D&D 5E] Whispered Curse, Day 60- Offshore/Abbott of the Eternal
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Then she knees him in the crotch. Hard.
(It'd be real nice if my attacks would stop rolling so low!)
Geth roll 1d20+5 for kneeattack
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Muscles strain, as the big men grunt and stare steely stares at each other across the table. A bookie still takes last minute bets from an agressive, drunken crowd. Beads of sweat form on the competitor's heads. The testerone swelling in this part of the bar is palpable.
Oak's arm creeps down slowly...*very* slowly. Still hangs, somehow. Your competitor has to give one more massive wrench before it finally collapses fully to the table. He gives a few humble nods to the cheering crowd, before standing up, reaching over, and clapping Oak on the back in a quick bro-hug, whispering briefly to him as he does so, smacks you on the back in good nature again...
[Oak has a friend in Calvin Jenkins]
The highly irritating fuckboi catches your knee expertly between his legs, with a protective squeeze. He's... definitely had that move tried on him before. With your now caught leg, he suddenly spins, attempts to flip you off your feet, and out of the ring...
Geth roll 1d20+3 for "Spin Maneuver"
The Captain and Quartermaster have arrived back to the bar, soaked, and the captain's arm slightly dangling. They wave off the drunken cheers and offers of alcohol, obviously very annoyed...the Captain looks around the bar, *immediately* sees where Jack is. She angrily says a few words to her Quartermaster in hushed tones...(Jack, you may be getting a talking to here soon...)
...at the other end of the Schooner, a cloaked figure has been making rounds, talking to nearly every table, but specifically the Lizardfolk groups. He perks up when the Captain enters...for the first time this evening, he throws his hood back...
The Captain makes eye contact with the cloaked Lizardman almost immediately. She laughs, in a defeated, tired sort of way. "You?", she asks.
"Me." says the lizard gentleman.
Concurrently...a group of the local soldiers and authorities have come in, in a very pointed and open defiance of the "pirate bar, but for the evening" general mandate...they begin to loudly complain about the patrons, almost immediately...these people are here looking for trouble...
[Anyone who can roll Intelligence or History for 12 or Greater will recognize the Lizardman]
Arno wracks her memory, did he see this lizardfolk among the others?
Geth, roll 1d20+2 for Intelligence Check
"What the fuck are you doing here?", The Captain asks, leaning against her chair slowly and accepting a drink. She's probably done pretending this isn't a fully public spectacle, at this point.
"Heard you needed crew," the Lizardman responds plainly. He casts a quick but pointed eye in Jack's direction. "...heard it's cosssting an arm an' a leg, to get good people to travel into zee Expanssse thessse days..."
"Cute!" says the Captain, taking a quick drink. "You know the Governor *specifically* said he doesn't want you aboard this ship, correct? Given your...rather checkered history?"
The lizardman nods, grabs the glass from across the table and gives it a quick swirl. "...oh, I'm highly aware Mitchum issssn't a fan. But he'll want me, I assssure you.....for what my knowledge isssss worth...". He takes a drink, his slitted eyes never leaving the Captain.
"...you're a bullshitter. Everyone knows that. What, *knowledge*, do you think is gonna buy you passage on a vessel you're clearly not welcome on?"
The Lizardman does something that resembles a smile; finishes the drink on a dramatic *gulp*. He gives a satisfied sigh. Swirls around the empty cup. "Tell me, Captain... you've ssseeen this map? Let me asssaak you....how many pieccccesssss wassss it in?". The Captain doesn't respond.
Oak sits silently for a member after his defeat. Today wasn't his day. Still, he had lost to a respectable opponent, one he wouldn't forget. There's a small silver lining in finding someone who will be aboard the ship that he might find trustworthy.
Still, a bet is a bet, so he saddles up to the bar to purchase a drink for Calvin. A lizard folk makes a scene of things, however, and Oak's eyes narrow as his brain searches for a name.
Edit: Oh sure, I roll great for something I should be bad at....
Geth, roll 1d20-1 for New Phone, Who Dis?
And Irah uses the distraction to grab him, aiming to toss him right over her
Geth roll 1d20+5
Geth roll 1d20+5 (advantage from Alkono helping)
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The captain's swears eventually grow too loud even for him to miss and he looks over, always down for some good drama.
Geth, roll 1d20 for History
Oak's eyes connect to the lizardman and they narrow. This type of pirate was more known for the things he ruined than the adventures he was a part of. The Shifter didn't claim morally superiority to anyone, but this lizardman wasn't the type who claimed neutrality. He did bad things because he enjoyed them, and enjoyed how it hurt other people. His hand still on the drink he had ordered for Calvin, Oak didn't even realize how tightly he had started to squeeze the cup until he heard a small breaking noise. He looked down, seeing that he had created a small crack at the top of the wooden cup. He whistles softly, and looks up again, distracted enough to let the building rage subside as he observes the room again.
The man's roguish grin falls away as Irah lifts him up...over her head. He freezes in shock for the moment...and Irah chucks him out of the ring like a bag of trash. The crowd loses its mind. Equal parts cheers for the winner and jeers towards the man now akwardly pulling himself up emerge from the crowd. His large friend lumbers over to help him to his feet. He glares daggers at Irah, as he wipes a thin line of blood from his mouth.
"Nice trick with the bird, Madame," he snarls, the flirting now officially over. "I won't soon forget it. No one makes a fool of Conrad Burgess..."
"Pretty sure that's what she just did, mate!"
Conrad storms away, his large friend following.
Irah earns 25 exp. You also just embarrassed the First Mate. Subsequently, Irah has a Rival in Conrad Burgess.
He throws it over his shoulder, the sopping wet cloth slapping into some poor bystander's face as he steps in front of the barbarian, hopping from foot to foot and grinning toothily, "You good to go? I don't want any I Was Tired From The Fight excuses when you lose, you hear?" Cracks neck, pumps shoulders, lowers into a crouch. It'd look even more impressive if she weren't twice his size.
He waits for her to start talking before leaping into a grab!
Geth, roll 1d20+1 for Grab
((1 + STR mod = 0 for him, so I don't think he's winning this one regardless
"Hey, names Arno, never got a chance to thank you for pulling me out of the foam. You look troubled friend, what's on your mind?"
Irah simply beckons Jack to come... And then catches him and tosses him right back out of the circle
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Geth, roll 1d20+5 for Stylish Landling
Geth, roll 1d20+1 for Jack Is Bad At Grappling
This time Jack manages to strike true, and Irah goes down... and stumbles out of the circle.
She laughs hard as she does. "Well done, pup!" A tiny flickero f magic, ando ne of her gp comes flying acros the room, and smacks jack in the face. "Your due rewards for getting me to take a fall"
once she's back on her feet, she bellows to the rest of the room. "So! Any other takers?!"
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He returns to the Fillet pirate, only just managing to win the battle with the wet shirt and getting it back on, "Right then!" He slaps his two coins on the table, pumped full of adrenaline. "All or nothing, let's go!"
((OOC: better than a 16 what beats him? Just a straight 1d20 or a stat/skill check?))
Oak looks up as Arno approaches him, a small smile forming on his lips, a reminder of a job well done. "Nice to meet ya Arno. Name's Oak." He extends his hand to shake the other man's.
"As to what's troubling me, that man over there." he motions to the lizardman across the room "He has a bit of a reputation that I don't really agree with, and I'm worried that the conversation with the captain is leading to him being a part of our crew." Oak turns fully to Arno now. "But enough about that. How are ya feeling? Almost been dumped in the drink a few times myself, and I remember it being unpleasant."
Irah: She truly respects the social graces.
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Geth, roll 1d20 for Keeping His Fingers
OOC: Welp.
Right at that moment bursting out from the kitchen of the looney schooner comes a decidedly nondescript man in white hat and leather apron carrying a tray piled high with food calling out "Who wants pot stickers!?"
He sees the two men with gaping hand wounds and you can see the exasperation in his face as he turns to them. He doles out his dumplings to the crowd as he heads towards them.
Looking at the smiling pirate "I thought I told you to stop playing this dumb game with my knives, you two let me see the wounds" he says pointing to jack and the man already clutching an injured hand, he inspects the wounds and apply as much medical expertise and healing as he can to rescue the hands.
Geth roll 1d20+3 to apply first aid
Geth roll 1d8+3 to apply a magical salve from my herbalism kit and wrap it with bandages (cure wounds)
He turns his head to call the barbarian over and there's a meatier thunk, followed the intake of breath of those around the table. Looking back he notices that a) he's no longer moving the knife and b) one of his fingers is... offset. With a dismayed expression he pulls his left hand back and the pinkie stays put.
Still in shock, his left hand now pumping blood, he picks up the finger with the right and turns his head to show it, "Irah..." Then he's out like a light, slumping forward face-first on the now-bloodied table. The murmurs around him go from concerned to surprised as Jack's unconscious body rapidly reshapes itself into that of a large black wolf, the new chair-unsuitable form slipping off the table and landing on the floor with a muffled thud, blood pooling around its left from paw.
As the man he was turning about to see to the wounds of turns into a wolf, he pulls out a small notebook and quickly jots something down while saying aloud, "Fascinating". He then attempts to set to the same work he did with the other injured man at the table.
Geth roll 1d20+3 for first aid on a wolf
Geth roll 1d20+3 cause I'm a doctor not a vet and this is kinda new (disadvantaged)
(ARNO AND OAK)
From across the bar, you can see Raz currently meeting with a fawning and rather pathetically enchanted Black-toothed Bart and Twitchy Joe. Twitchy Joe has ordered a round of drinks for the whole table, and Bart is jerking Raz’s arm like an overenthusiastic puppy dog.
Raz gives a hearty *cheers* to the table as the drinks arrive. As he sips his drink, he looks across the bar at Oak and Arno…he nods overly respectfully, gives the pair of you the ol’ finger gun with his other hand. (Was that an acknowledgement? …A subtle threat?...). Suddenly, you hear a sudden sharp cry ring out…that’s *gotta* be the skinny goofy guy, from the Docks…
[Arno may have thought Raz was acknowledging their new hat…Oak may have thought he had been overheard…You may both choose whether or not you immediately witness Jack’s situation]
URIXES
The barman disturbs Urixes’s rumination. “Scuse’ me, sir?...The hooded gentleman sent you another hot drink, compliments of your heroics this evening.” He hands you the drink, and indicates to Rax across the bar. Rax doesn’t notice you look, in all the hubbub at the table. As the barman departs, you take the drink…there’s a note, pressed into the hollow at the bottom. You unfold it. It says, “Saw Reynard before he died. Mentioned you were a person of character. WE ALL THREE KNOW THE SEA”. Suddenly, a loud and familiar cry rings out…
[Urixes may choose whether or not he immediately sees what happens to Jack]
IRAH
Nope, these tough guys are all *done* with you…they’ve all seen enough to be convinced. You’ve earned their somewhat grudging respect, and the fight club begins to disperse to more drinks and other games. Irah turns to brag to Jack at the table now with the knifed-character…”Irah…”. Jack holds a bloody, wounded stump out to Irah. Then, something bizarre happens…
[Irah sees *everything*. And she wasn’t the only one…]
The Captain storms over, Quartermaster following briskly but annoyed behind her...and then they both see the finger, witness the blood, stand in shock at the transformation...
In a few dashing, lightning moments, the Captain quickly throws her jacket over the prone and bleeding form of Jack on the floor, stoops to his side. The Quartermaster has immediately begun to engage in a belligerent, concentrated scream at the Five-Finger Fillet man about disfiguring crew for fun and profit. The crowd, most drunk and drawn by the initial scream, have just lost the forest for the trees. Most are watching the ass chewing, now, not the obvious injury (third this evening!)
That begs the question, though...who else just really saw what happened?
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"That's it?!" The Captain thunders. "Whaddy'all spend it on booze already?" Half of the crowd looks away in shame. "*Sons of bitches*"
"That potion isn't gonna fix a finger..." The Quartermaster muses, just softly enough for the Cap and Irah to hear.
"And who is? Sister Mary? Hugo? How many people have they already had to fix tonight, Valtari?", hisses the Captain.
"Better to stabilize him and make sure the wound dosent get infected. Kids an archer, he'll be fine with one less finger. He'll be whole less fine if it goes septic. Plus, shapeshifter, maybe he'll mend as he transforms. Or he'll just have learned a little wisdom."
Geth roll 2d4+2 for potion of healing
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As others set to work with their potions, Michael picks the errant finger tip up off the table where the now wolf left it. Holding it up to the captain, quartermaster, and Irah, "I don't think this is going to reattach to a paw quite well, someone wake him up and figure out if he can get back to humanoid form, then I can see what I can do, but Hugo might be better at this".
[OOC: I hope the 18 points of healing jack has recieved at least puts him to full hp at level 1]
Valtari gives Michael a hug. Kisses him on the forehead. "Yuh've done good," she tells Michael, slapping his chest. "This wasn't en' you. Effen' Hugo wasn't working on bout' seex Seamen right' now..."
"That's plenty," says Ari, rubbing her temples, tired and done tonight. "You...hungry girl...Valtari, go... check on Hugo, see if he's ready...". Valtari nods once, and runs off to look for the Doctor. Captain Arabella gives a heavy sound of disgust...collapses against the stovetop in defeat.
"He looks good, better than I would've thought, other than...the obvious digit, of course. I... appreciate that this isn't your fucking job, Michael...thanks for doing us a solid tonight." She sighs sadly. Then she steadies up into Captain-mode, looks Michael right dead in his eyes. "This one...he was some wiry little chap, when I met him. It took him passing out, his body losing control...for him to turn a big...puppers." She now is 100% business. "You didn't seem to miss a beat about us just bringing a werewolf aboard, Chef Michael." The Captain looks at you, a hint of irony lost completely from her face... expecting Michael's answer...
[Michael has mended Jack back to full-ish health, as of tomorrow morning... minus the odd digit, and learning to live without it... Michael has earned 30 exp.]
"Life is full of its oddities isn't Captain Arabella, and he's already signed on to the crew, correct? Besides he seemed no less rapscallious than the rest of the scallywags in that bar. Did you see the bareknuckle fighters? Might be wanting to explain to the crew that their hands are fairly important to our sailing."
Geth roll 1d20+5 for what I know about werewolves.
"I'll help Bern reinforce the hold in case we need to deal with a full moon while he's aboard"