All aboard: Captain Lazarus.

[OGRE MAGE]

The mage smiles uneasily at the native woman barging in but then moves to the bar and asks for Cravat, not looking forward to whatever newbie hazing he is about to recieve.

I feel like I'm back at my first day of school, he thinks to himself, hoping silently that obtaining the straw men story will be a painless endeavor.

[Bluehorse]

Moves over to the bar after his turn gripping he silver piece in his hand. He gives the regulars of the crew a look accented by his tattoos that seems capable of curdling milk, resurrecting it, just to curdle it again straight to moldered cheese a starved bildge rat wouldn't eat. Sitting at the bar he puts the coin on the bar top and waits in silence for the drink to arrive.

[onlyme]

Into the tavern walks Geoffrey, ready for his deployment. He is fairly tall and lean for the time period. (5-10, 160) muscular, but not bulky. He has striking blue eyes and brown curly hair, shoulder length. His pencil-thin mustache has just recently filled in. His Elizabethan accent confirms his Breton heritage.

Looking for a Mr Perryman, he says, and walks over to the line when shown.

At his turn,
g'morning. Name's Geoffrey Blood. I'll be 17 come 3 more months. From a small island off Breton. Seas in my veins, apparently. I got a decent skill with the sword here. I'm just as good with a long bow a a man with a musket. But, well I don't got mine anymore. I'd love to be on the firing line though, if you got an extra one of 'em in the hold.

[Spearmint]

Mr Perryman looks at the insistent Iggway, "Oh I can pass on any last messages to the Captain for you, save bothering him if you like. What's so urgent with your friend. Need a shipment of cargo moving somewhere, got a debt that needs settling?"

Rico the half-orc guard grips you firmly on the shoulder, "You can tell Mr Perryman here what ails you or find Captain Lazarus yourself on the quayside. He is finalising some customs payment for stuff we bought in. Then he'll board in the jolly boat."

Mr Perryman turns to the young man before him. "Geoffrey Blood, well we're not supposed to sign up minors on board, not without written consent of their folks mind. Can't get accused of child trafficking. Anyone would think we're a right bunch of smugglers." At this comment you hear a few affirmations and seeing the bar throng grinning. Quite a salubrious crew this it appears, not the best uniformed cadet academy you remember from home.

"Still," Mr Perryman continues, "You look a strapping lad Geoffrey and carry yourself well. We can turn the boy into a man. Do well enough out here and the governor's might even grant you a bit of estate. Make your folks proud eh?", he scribes a few more notes in the ledger, printing your age as 17 and hands you a rolled parchment.

Rico bites another coin and throws it to you, calling to the bar staff as you walk away."Make note of Geoff Junior here, he is a bit underage so just serve him some milk."

[onlyme]

Geoffrey nods his relief and approval, while trying to hold back the anger from the milk comment.
Aye, aye. I'll do us all proud.

[Hotgoblin]

Iggway Gwequay nods, thanking the half-Orc. Show me way to quayside? Padre Claude du Lautrere' needs help or he die....Padre helped Cap'n while sick in Florda Keys!!! Iggy starts pacing around, she looks out the windows. She points out window and says Quayside here?

[Stirling]

Szmodics

Young Szmodics finishes his ale and if he can with any change of coin left from the silver piece, take a bottle of rum and smuggle it under his cloak. Never know if it could be a useful trade item on board.

Szmodics takes a look around the tavern, (being from St Eustatius would he know the tavern landlord?), the crew of dwarves and men who sat by the window table but didn't look happy, where are they? Szmodics will use a few thiefly skills to listen in to conversations at the bar to see if any particular conversations about the Capt' or ship stand out.

[Norjax]

Pocc, Druid

Pocc waits patiently for his turn and then steps forward to address Mr. Perryman.



Pocc Vorche is my name, Mr. Perryman, and I’m 20-years old, says Pocc with a measured tone. I grew up in Curacao and my parents had a trading post on the continent, so I’m skilled in trading and dealing with the natives. I’m proficient in Olmaic and this scimitar. He gestures to the sheathed sword.

I have my sea legs and sometimes have the ability to observe and use the signs of nature.

[Spearmint]

Siggard makes enquires regarding Cravat to the guys standing around him. "Cravat you say?"says one guy, "ain't seen him today, you seen Cravat?" he turns and asks the other next to him. The man looks around, puts his hands up in a kind of 'whaddya say?' gesture then asks the next bloke. Down the line of the bar it goes until the last man says, " Yes, he's on ship, pulled Crow duty. Going to ring a bell if he sees owt?" The message comes back up the bar each man miming Cravat and exaggerating ringing a bell. The first man turns back to Siggard and says, "yeah, I seen him. He's in the crows nest top if the mast. Nice fella Cravat, climbs them ropes like a monkey he does. Deaf as a post though, and mute."

Szmodics looks and listens to the conversations at the bar, give me a hard skill role vs intelligence please, 4d6. The dwarves you saw at the table earlier have returned, a couple of buxom tarted up wenches round their arms, lipstick and cheap wine stains marking their faces and beards. The pair collapse drunk on a side bench and the wenches go off in a huff after filching a few coins from the dwarves pockets. They exit like brazen strumpets and go hug a dandy looking merchant outside.

Rexlin looks like he fits in already. A couple of the guys are comparing tattoos and one who calls himself by the nickname 'Fishy' shows off a mermaid design on his back. He tells you it cost him a few hundred gold to do, paying a native shaman to ink him. He tells you the shaman incanted a spell over it and he can breathe underwater. He bets you a gold piece he can hold his breath underwater longer than you and a dare goes out for you both to stick your head in the barrel of grog slops. Who pulls out first loses. A few guys egg you on trying to convince you Fishy is just full of bullshit.

Iggway is pointed outside and down the leftside if the waterfront. A stone built prominent building with a tattered Haldane flag flues outside and a couple of uniformed militia stand outside the door. A small group of men are seen bartering some trade and you spot a couple of men who resemble the Captain's description passing a bag of coins over. They exchange some paperwork and then depart heading up a small wooden pier to a group of tied up dinghies.

Geoffrey takes his silver piece and stands at the bar. You look a bit out of place amongst all these sweaty men. The tavern keeper wipes a filthy towel around and unclean glass, probably making it more unclean and fills it with a big frothy glass of locally brewed 'Van see Laans' extra strong, " it'll put hairs on her chest!" the barman insists.

Zoggrot The half-orc seems to fit right in, finding yourself next to another half-orc, an older middle aged female. She is dressed in leather armour and carries a pair of axes by her side. One hand carries a double-hook instead of fingers, which she uses to nimbly lift a mug of ale and down in one.

Pocc steps up, almost the last in line. Mr Perryman looks you over and nods approvingly. "well I'm sure we can use them both." He scribbles details of you in the ledger noting your next if kin after you parents. "We never tell them you went down with the ship, just say you made your fortune and have gone back to the continent. Got fed up writing bad letters see.", he flips the pages back a bit and you see scores of red lines neatly crossed through names. Perhaps four or five pages worth. You hope that was a bad year for the ship and better times lie ahead.

[Hotgoblin]

Iggway Gwequay Iggy nods appreciatively and runs out the door toward the pier and the Captain. She hopes to catch him before he gets into the dinghy.... Cap'n Lazrus Padre need help!!! Padre Claude du Lautrere' need ur help...he help you, you need help him!!!!

[Norjax]

Pocc, Druid

Pocc takes the scroll and coin, stoically nods his approval to Perryman, and assembles with the others.

[Spearmint]

Iggway dodges down the quayside trying to keep her eye fixed upon the Captain. The promenade is quite busy, sailors mixing with night traders hawking goods, a couple if street performers entertaining. An old priest stands with staff in hand and sandwich board declaring the apocalypse is nigh.

You get to the pier as the dinghy begins to pull away, oared by a quartet of strong armed sailors. It is only a few feet off the pier so you can either try to hail the, who has his back to you or give me a normal skill [3d6] vs dex and you can jump in...

[Stirling]

Szmodics tries to listen intently to the different garbled conversations, he almost catches something of interest but struggles to make clear sense of it.

Hard skill role [4d6] = 9. vs Int of 8...any clues for being close?

[OGRE MAGE]

Siggard nods happily as the grape vine of drunken sailors finally gets back to him. Thank ye kindly for the info gents!

He smiles at the bar wench. Nothing for me today, thanks!

Seeing the strange native woman that barged in on him running quickly from the bar, the inquisitive mage feels inclined to follow. He chases her down the crowded streets, wondering who these people are that she keeps shouting about. He thinks they are headed in the direction of the ship so, he follows her all the way to the docks.

[Bluehorse]

Rexlin

He happily talks about tattoo art with the other sailors, just smart enough to know it is best to BS a bit and seem part of the crew early as possible. He genuinely admires the work many of the sailors are showing off, commenting on all the styles and making notes of where peices he likes came from. When the challenge is dulled out he offers what everyone assumes passes for a smile on the hard features of the seasoned ruffian. "Ha! Nice try fishy. I know that game! One of our mates here counts to 3, and we are supposed to plunge our heads in. Inwait until i nearly drown myself in that filth and come up for air and see you and everyone else happy and dry! No sir, you win!" He claps fishy on the back barking a laugh. "Now tell me more about your Shaman...

[Hotgoblin]

Iggway Gwequay keeps running faster as she notices the dinghy pulling away, at the end of the pier, Iggy leaps across the water, still yelling the Padre's name....

[3d6] = 10

[onlyme]

Geoffrey accepts the drink, and smiles. I find the local brews most enchanting, my good fellow. Many thanks.

He'll finish and head toward the boat, ready to make his way.

[Spearmint]

The quartet of sailors rowing the dinghy slowly pull away from the pier, aiming towards a moonlit ship silhouette anchored off shore in the bay. They face the promenade and gasp as some native dressed warrior clutching carved club and staff leaps across 8ft of open water to land heavily on some crates of textiles and foodstuffs. Luckily for her not putting a foot through the hull, even luckier still not to land on the captain. Instead of yelling ,"Geronimo", the shaman yells, "Padre de Lautrere'", profusely apologising for the unexpected interruption and delivers to Captain Lazarus the message she carries.

Inside the Black Walrus tavern, Mr Perryman finishes recruiting the new hands and rounds up a few crew to hoist new sail bundles, scores of rope and tack, foodstuffs and two special crates, one decorated with a red cross on a white circle, the other another symbol less familiar and more runic in nature. He points to Pocc, Szmodics and Geoff, "You boys can start earning your keep before you leave and gently carry those into the boats." The crates are fairly cumbersome and clink of glass as you walk, straw poking out the sides cushioning the contents inside. Both crates are padlocked.

Szmodics 'close only works with horseshoes and atom bombs', tries to listen in on a few bar conversations. You notice one guy give a sort of freemasonry handshake to a shifty looking man who whispers something back in a can't you are not familiar with. You think you might recognise 'shifty' as a 'debt collector' on St Eustatius.

Fishy turns to Rexlin, a dour look on his face. "ah you can disbelieve all you like then, but I swear when the ship goes down I won't be gagging saltwater for my last breath."

Rico ushers the men away from the bar, few protest as he does so. The sodden dwarves still lie in a drunken stupor, "wake them pair up gently, carry them if you need to," he says to Rexlin and Zoggrot and nods to a corner where a couple of mops and buckets of brown water stand.

The tavern clears as the crew make their way to waiting boats on the pier.

[onlyme]

Goffrey eagerly takes to transporting the crates, assuming they are most likely wine for the captain. He will be careful, understanding the consequences of disappointing the officer.

[Norjax]

Pocc, Druid

Pocc does his part with the crates, conscious of the content’s fragility. He takes mental notes on the number of persons in the ship’s crew.