Aboard the good ship “Wormwood”

I be Bob, or Salty Bob if ye prefer. When I were born they threw me into the sea, but instead of sinking I floated. “It’s a buoy!”, they cried, and named me Bob on account of how I were bobbin’ there in the waves.

But enough ‘o me: you be here to hear about the good ship Wormwood, and I be happy to oblige.

It were only a week or two after the bitch ‘o the sea – Besmara – finally caught me, though I gave her a good chase. Marked me at birth, she did, with the jolly roger. The last voyage my luck finally ran out, and I were in a stormy sea and called out to her – if she would toss me a line, I would serve. Not a moment after, a half-empty keg of rum came within my reach an I were saved. A made it ashore, drank the rum and got religion. Never thought I’d be castin spells and callin on the goddess, but here I be.

Salty Bob has traits “Touched by the Sea” and “Marked at Birth”. I wanted him to be older (because I am, and it makes it easier to roleplay). So I needed an excuse for a older human to be level 1. I imagine Bob to be in his mid to late thirties – which is middle aged for a human in a fantasy setting.

First thing I remember is wakin’ belowdecks with a splitting head. “Pressganged!” I thought, and so it were. Me and four others. In a moment we were hauled on deck and I got me first look at ’em.

The usual mix, a couple ‘o humans – mebbe a half-elf – and two half orcs. Big lads the two of em. Capn’ made the usual speech, an we were taken away to be put to work. There were two officers: Mr Plug, who were in charge ‘o discipline, and Master Lash, who were also in charge ‘o discipline. And a nasty looking pair they were.

Arrgh! Where are my notes? Oh – that’s right. They are on the character sheet, which Keegan keeps. No names or details this week. We have a human or elf sorceress, a rogue, and a half-orc fighter and barbarian. I’m healbot. A good party, actually. Light on ranged combat is the only thing.

Being pressganged is specific to recruiting in the Royal Navy, rather than being something that pirates do. Pirates Shanghai people rather than impressing them, I think, the distinction being that impressment was legal, whereas shanghaing is outright kidnapping and a very different thing.

Well, two of us were handy in the rigging – I’m were old for it, even then – and the lass was taken off to be cook. Meself and one of the haf orc was made swabs. But I’d been sailin a fair few years, and now I were workin for Besmara wouldn’t be long before I weren’t swabbing the deck, I thought.

There were a priestess on board, and she took a bit of a shine to us. Good thing, I thought, as I were new to the clericing business. She gave our two half-orcs back their swords: a bloody great two-handed sword and a bloody great scimitar – a falchion. A score of new faces, of course, that we were going to have to live with for the next few months at the very least. I tried to ingratiate meself with the quartermaster, but no luck there. I decided I might just have to stick to me work.

Bob has a good charisma, but I put skill points into swimming and profession rather than social skills. I’ll fix it next level, but until then I’ll have to rely on the rest of the party diplomacising.

Then came the Bloody Hour, when the floggings were done. Before dinner, o course, not after. Can’t have the men throwing up their rations. They keelhauled a man for thieving and tossed him to the sharks. I think it made an impression on the lads, which is always the point of punishment.

When our watch was over, we went belowdecks and gambled and slept. One of the lads – the sneaky type – wanted me to have a look at something for him. A bottle of holy water, it were. There’s a lad with brass, I thought, to go thieving first day after seeing a man keelhauled for it. I congratulated him on not getting caught, an told him it were sovereign against the undead of the sea and the town watch.

I’m not used to playing chaotic characters. My first reaction was “Oh noes! You don’t steal from your shipmates!” But that’s not how Salty Bob rolls. Telling the dude that holy water blessed by Besmara works against the town watch is also an attempt at being more chaotic. I think being a teller of outrageous tall tales works. It also reflects that Bob is new to being a cleric – for all he knows, Besmara’s holy water might very well work against the town watch.

After not enough sleep, it were time for our watch. But a couple of lads were blocking our way. Seems they were looking for a fight, so we obliged. Just fists, o’ course: and me prayin to Besmara to give my lads a boost. Seems the lass is a sorceress – she used a spell. Coloured lights, or something, which will daze a man for a moment. But it didn’t seem to work. I stayed behind the half orcs.

Dude playing the sorceress is learning about playing a squishy. Colour Spray is a great spell, and perfect for this situation, but you have to get in close. It didn’t work, but it was the right thing to do in that situation. Don’t confuse bad luck with bad tactics.

We won, but we were a few seconds late on deck. “Yer late!”, says Mr Plug, “three lashes at bloody hour!”. Some of us protested – the sneaky bloke most of all – but it was pointless. If you ask me, Mr Plug set it up to make sure we all got a taste of the lash early on. Good for discipline. I told him I overslept, which he and I both knew was a tale.

I decided to have a bit of a chat with them during the day. It’s a pirate ship, and it’s important to not show fear. Cowards get thrown over.

I would like to have used Command in-game to tell the rogue to “Shut yer gob!” But I didn’t think of it.

All in all, a good start to the campaign.

It seems straightforward to me

A country’s territory includes its airspace.

A no-fly zone is a military annexation of that airspace.

An annexation of a country’s territory is an act of war.

GG4 – Prison, again

Haven’t been blogging. Out of practise. Meh.

It ‘as been some time since I last prayed, because I don’t see there’s much point to it. But there’s nuffink much else to do when yer locked up, so I fort I might renew acquaintance. I ‘ave many sins wot I would like ter apologise for. Some of ’em I am not so sure is sins, but I’ll apologise anyway ter be on the safe side.

I am sorry I came ‘ere ter Sharn. I could ‘ave gone sailing wiv dad, I could ‘ave just wandered around. But naaah – it ‘ad ter be the Big City. Everyone ‘as ter see the towers once in their life and it looks like I seen as much of them as I’m going ter. I been out of my depth ‘ere from day one. We managed ter piss of both the local boys and the entire fackin’ ‘ouse of assassins.

I am sorry I ‘Arvey Milled that bloke back at the ‘ouse. But fuck ‘im. We gave ’em the chance ter leave quiet, ‘an they were all “Well, we got to put up a fight, don’t we?”. Fackin’ stupid.

I am sorry that I got involved in a fight between ‘ouse Phiarlain ‘an ‘ouse Thuranni, ‘an I am most particularly ‘an specifically sorry that when someone said “‘Ouse Thuranni ‘ave got a back door, let’s break in and pinch sum stuff!”, I replied “That sounds like a top idea!” instead of “That sounds fackin’ stupid”.

There are sum more sins after this, but they are all sort of part of the main fing wot I ‘ave jus mentioned.

I am sorry that I didn’t just piss off when it turned out that everyone else’s idea of sneakin’ in quiet-like was ter go ter a pub two blocks away ‘an announce ter the publican that we was going ter break in the the local assassin’s clubouse.

I am not very sorry at all that I ‘elpd gak that assassin. He wos an assassin.

I am a little bit sorry I broke the lock on the door, as it wos a nice bit of work.

I am sorry I didn’t get suspicious when we walked ‘arf a mile froo a tunnel owned by Ouse Thuranni and didn’t once se a guard.

I am sorry I didn’t finally turn ‘an bolt when we ‘ad ter go past an entire fackin’ roomful of assassins ‘aving fuckin’ dinner ter get ter the library.

And since by that stage we wos all pretty much done for, I am sorry that I didn’t just go “Fuck this and fuck you” when Lorne told the geezer that the rest of us wos just zombies or some shit.

Sorry about the language, too, but the language don’t begin ter describe wot a bad idea this ‘ole fing was from start ter finish.

Traveller, if I get out of this alive I’ll bury a few gold dahn at the crossroads, or whatever yer supposed ter do when yer in the city. Maybe just fling ’em on the road? That’d be good fer a laugh. An I will avoid these an uvver similar sins in future.

Lorne did manage to talk our way out of there. But next time he wants Korgul to accompany him to take part in the Phiarlan/Thuranni war, well, I think he’ll have to offer some sort of inducement.