When most people think of the Nelanther Isles they think of pirates. Just about all of the islands in the region have a pirate presence...except the few uninhabitable ones. Or at least that's what people say. In actual fact the seemingly uninhabitable isles also have pirate holdings. This is one of them.

What seems like a small rock, barely large enough for a few people to stand on is actually much larger as soon as you pass the illusuory barrier on the north side of the isle. Inside is a much larger cave complex, perfect for a pirate base.

And that is exactly what it is.

Situated approximately 360 miles due west of the town of Imnescar in Amn you would be hard pressed to find a more perfect place to launch raids against the Sword Coast's shipping.

Noone knows who or what made the illusuory barrier and other than that the isles only other defenses are the pirates who live inside it (and whatever they can come up with.)
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:55, Thu 12 Apr 2007.

Hoat smiles with yellow teeth through thick black braids as he steps through the illusion.  The place is right where that miserable thief said it would be, and all it took was a little 'convincing' to get the information out. As he strides further into the complex, Hoat absently picks at the scab on his forearm caused by the exposed jagged edge of the little man's broken shin bone.

Now the first step of Hoat's master plan is complete, finding the secret caves.  Step two shouldn't be that hard, signing on to a crew.  Steps three and four might take a more little work...

'Well, well, well.  Not exactly what I thought, but it'll do.'  Azzedar almost smiles as he finally reaches the small island to actually discover it an illusion for a much bigger island, almost a lair.

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least.  The treck from Rasheman to Amn in the matter of only two tendays was stressing enough, but that man asking for money, that was priceless.  A bit of blood cheered the theif up admirably.  But still, Amn had enough of its own thieves; no need for Azzedar to be in such a competitive area.

So off to Calimshan he would go.  Passage on a ship was no problem, but then they had to be stupid enough to get attacked by pirates, the stupid sailors.  Azzedar sneaked off in the midst of the fighting to a small life boat and sailed off.  But there were even some stowaways hidden in the lifeboats.  They were simple enough to rid the world of.

Now, after days of riding, his clothes are little better than rags and his devil heritage was easy to see, even from a distance.  He walked on the island, prepared for anything, and all he saw was a single man.  Huge, but there was that saying that the bigger they are, the harder they fall.  Still, it might be better to handle this with a bit of diplomacy.  He might have friends hidden in the shadows.

"Someone alive at last.  A pleasure, for you, I'm sure."  The cold detached voice is low, almost to the point of being unable to be heard, but the man picks up every word nonetheless.

Immersed in his dreams of grandeur, Hoat did not see the approach of the new arrival.  As a result he is quite suprised to hear a voice come seemingly out of the blue.  Hoat spins around quickly to see the bedraggled-looking tiefling.  The Illuskan's blood-shot eyes squint in appraisal before returning the greeting.

"Sneak up on me like that again little devil-man, an' I'll bend yer limbs into a monkey's-fist.  Now we got that unner-stood, my name is Hoat Hundemar, and I come here lookin' fer a ship, any ship.  You know where I c'n fin' one?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Sun 16 Oct 2005.

"As long as we're starting out a conversation with threats, you could at least watch who you threaten.  I am sure your heart would taste bitter, but a bit of salt would fiix that up."  The tiefling's voice sounds almost bored.  As if this were something normal, standing at the entrance to a pirate's lairwith a huge man with a halbard.  "If you want a ship, and fast, I suggest you go behind me, there's a ship back there.  If you'd rather wait, go ahead."  As Hoat looks behind to see what ship he might have possibly missed, he sees a small four man lifeboat.  Azzedar is slowly walking ahead to explore the caves by the time Hoat turns back around.

The anger rises from Hoat's gut, but he tries to stay in control,

"Ho there! No one turns their back on Hoat Hundemar!"

The big man rushes forward with suprising speed to grab the teifling by the right arm.


20:03, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Melee touch attack to start a grapple.
20:00, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 25 using 1d20+14. Grapple check.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Sun 23 Oct 2005.

Azzedar turns at the sound of the larger man screaming, and meets his grap with open, but not gaping, eyes.  He doesn't attempt to resist, but his eyes grow redder with anger.

"I suggest you let go.  Before I do something you would really regret."  Somehow, whether it is his cold detached voice or his glowing eyes, Hoat can see he is not kidding, and has a faint idea that the tiefling can actually back up his threat.

A voice filled with anger cuts through the rum induced fog that clouds his mind. Sitting up from where he had passed out the night before, Hogar peers around at what has disturbed the best drunk he has had in weeks.

If anyone was looking at Hogar they would see a filthy Dwarven figure sitting in a pile of empty clay pots, the kind that rum and quality wine is shipped in.  A cagro net seems to have bundled the clay pots into some sort of crude raft.  However now, the clay pots are laying around, empty.

Looking up he see four figures, each dancing with each other.  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  They are still there when he opens them.  "Hey pipe down over there ye swabs! Ye be disturbing me rest and I be needing my rest or else I gets ornery."

"Now ye two half giants and ye twin boys just run off and play somewheres else. Leave me be."

Reaching out for the last upright jug, he raises it up over his head.  A single drop of amber liquid falls out of it onto his tongue.  He peers into the opening of the jug above his head and in Dwarvish you hear "Damn!"  Hogar tosses the clay jug over his shoulder on to a pile of broken clay jugs that is taller than he is.

The tension of the moment is broken by the drunken dwarf, and Hoat releases his hold on Azzedar.  The big man starts snickering, low at first, then building into huge gales of laughter.

Now THAT is the funniest thing I've seen in a handful of ten-days!"

The explosion of laughter cuts into Hogar's brain like a hot poker.  Placing a hand over each ear, the dwarf stands up swaying as if he was standing in a tempest.  "By Vergadain's Hairy Beard, when this unnatural storm blows itself out, I will be over there to pluck each and every hair out of your miserable and butt ugly face!"

Hogar takes a step or at least he starts to take a step.  Not noticing that his feet are tangled up in the cargo net.  Between that and his rum induced swaying, he falls flat on his face.

Turning over on his back to look behind him, you hear "Who hit Hogar the Hapless from the rear?"

Azzedar watches the dwarf through uncaring eyes, but he does bring a black gloved hand to cover his mouth when the dwarf falls on his front.  "A giant of a man and a drunk dwarf.  What else will I find, I wonder."  Azzedar starts off into the caves once again, now that the human has let his arm free.

[Private to DM N1NJ4C0W: Are we going to move, or are we waiting for more people?]

-PL-

[Private to Azzedar: Waiting. Jacktucker is ready but he hasn't posted and I haven't heard any word from Grimclaw in ages, although he is sorted as well. Raven...I'm not sure about. I don't know whether she's going to come back to us when she finishes her move or not.]

PM

[Private to DM N1NJ4C0W: Er.  Grimclaw is Hoat, and he's been posting.]

PL

[Private to Azzedar: Oh, sorry. I meant Kurgon.]

"I say who was the scurry scum that hit Hogar when he was not looking."

"Come out I say, ye be only making it rougher on ye-self by hiding from me!"

Pushing himself up from the ground, you see Hogar go over to a tidal pool and jump in.  In a few moments you see him washing his clothes and his body with great handfuls of sand.  Then he comes out and shakes like a dog, throwing water and wet globs of sand all around him.

"Now that felt good."

Stepping over to the one side of the pile of broken pottery, you see him pull out a ragged canvas bag.  Out of it you see him pull a really nice breastplate, a greataxe and a large heavy crossbow.  Soon he is dressed and ready for the day.  However he is still swaying a bit.

Looking up at Azzedar, he closes his eyes and then opens them again.  "I say little one, do ye have a couple of horns growing out of ye head.  Or am I still seeing things?"

Hearing pottery breaking, Zorlax eases around a corner to investigate. Ever open to the possiblity of gaing something left from a fight he spies three mongrels near the docks. Dirty and brutish comes to mind as he examines the 3. Likely all fighters and thieves. Well he could use a few able bodies when he looked for adventure on one of the ships. Perhaps....

Zorlax steps out and stands silently eyeing the others.

Hoat observes Hogar's cleaning ritual with amusement. Chuckling he steps forward, a huge hand raised in greeting.

"So now that you are all pretty, dwarf, I may buy you a drink when we find a place on this forsaken rock that sells them.  I am Hoat Hundemar, and that is a name you should remember. As for a drink..."

Hoat's head turns quickly as the new arrival makes himself known,

"Now, who is that one?"

Azzedar ignores the dwarf's question, but his eyes move to the person the giant mentions.  A feeling that he's seen the person before comes over him and he looks closer until h finally manages to connect the two things.  "You don't need to worry about him, he's just a weakling mage.  Nothing worth paying attention to."

Hogar swaying against the wind looks over at Hoat, "Hoat Hundemar, ye say, and ye can get drink from a forsaken rock.  Ye need to show me that trick, it would come in handy the next time I be shipwrecked on a forsaken island."

Pointing to Azzedar, Hogar asks Hoat, "Whats the deal with him, be his father a goat-man or something like that?  I know that he said he be a weakling mage and not important, but how strong be his magic?"

Poor Hogar has not seen the newcomer and thinks that Azzedar was describing himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Sun 30 Oct 2005.

"Quiet the lot o' yers!" comes a gruff, yet strangely sweet voice from directly behind Zorlax, a pair of weathered but definately feminine hands clap down upon his shoulders.
"This be my hidey-hole an all who reside in it work fer me. Consider yerselves press-ganged." she smiles before continuing "Those o' you who obey me without any fuss will earn themselves a decent share o' the loot, my favour an' all the grog ye can drink. Those who don't will find a dagger in 'em before sunrise. Ye dogs got that?"

"_Great," Azzedar mumbles as he hears the voice. He turns around once more and sees the woman who could only be the leader of whoever lives in these caves.  But still, Azzedar knows when to keep his mouth shut, and when to answer.  He answers with a soft, yet still heard, "Yes ma'am."

Hoat is suprised to see a woman claim to be the captain of this rock, but he knows how to take orders when necessary. In any case, why pass up the opportunity for loot and grog?

But Hoat is his father's son, after all, and he replies with a very obvious leer,

"Aye, Aye!..... Captain"

Hearing the unexpected voice of a woman, Hogar the Hapless turns around.  When the promise of grog is made, Hogar nods.

"Well Captain Lassie, I be ye Dwarf, if'n ye have the grog, promise of loot and a chance to chase the Dwarven Lassies.  I can follow ye orders as well as the next scurry pirate that be on ye crew."

"I be called Hogar the Hapless, do ye want us to sign ye ship's articles?"

Tensing as the hands come down on his back, several magics leap to Zorlax's mind. Slowly turning around, he start a quick chant for a few magic bolts. He pulls up short when the woman speaks and gets a puzzled look on his face. Press ganged? <Looking from side to side>. Where is the gang? He turns back to the other pressed "sailors" and rasies an eyebrow as if to ask "Do we take her?" This plan is dashed as the others seem to jump right on board, so to speak.
"interesting... to meet you...umm Captian. But I see no ship, nor press gang. I am not sure if I should join you for your... adventures. I have certain obligations I cannot drop just to simply hop aboard the first ship that presents itself, or rather almost presents itself. However with the right temptation, I could become a useful wizard in your service. Perhaps we can discuss this over a mug of wine, as I have never admired grog." (In a lower voice)"These others are a troublesome lot. Can you handle their type?" As he finishes he takes stock of the self-styled captian to see what her reaction to his last comment is.

"The ship be newly looted and is on it's shakedown run. As fer me press-gang, they're watchin' ye, ye can be sure o' that.
Yer payment will be in scrolls...ye like the idea o' that, magic-boy? If'n ye be wantin' wine in favour of grog, ye can 'ave it, provided ye do yer job...though you'll 'ave less t' drink than the other lads." She smiles as if all is satisfactory before whispering in Zorlax's ear Ye'd be wiser askin' if'n ye can handle MY type.
She lets go of Zorlax's shoulders and disappears!

She appears instantly in front of Azzedar and eyes him up before smiling.
"Ship'll be back within the hour. I'll be in me 'office' if ye wants me." she points at a piece of stone on a higher level to where you're all standing. "Feel free to wander about 'till the boat gets back."

She disappears again, leaving only what looks like a whisp of black smoke behind her. Appearing once more, outside the piece of rock she just pointed at. She seems to put her hand through the rock then brings her entire body through the rock wall.

Zorlax turns and wanders deeper into the cave looking for anything of interest.

'Well, well, well.  Let's see how all of this turns out.'

Azzedar doesn't let off much surprise at anything so far.  He didn't even so much as blink when the captain appeared in front of him.  Well, she was about as good as anyone so far, at least she had the courtesy to show her abilities, even if they were minor, up front instead of hiding them away as the others are.  This might have been a good move after all.

Shaking his head, Hogar calls out, "But Captain Lassie, where be the grog?  Me throat be mighty dry."

Once she is gone, he looks over at Hoat grinning, "Well me fine tall giant of a friend, ye can show me how to get a bit of drink out of a forsaken rock, since our new Captain has disappeared into yonder rock."

Azzedar aits back to wait, but soon gets bored of the waiting.  He stands back up and walks around the rock, searching fpr any secrets or stashes of this 'pirate' ship and crew.

The cove itself has 2 floors. The ground floor which contained mooring for a sizeable boat and the upper floor wahich was really more of a balcony that ran around the walls with sairways leading up to them.

Azzedar and Zorlax walk around the cove, exploring each wall for more illusionary barriers. It turns out that there are several of them. Each having what feels like doors dehind them. A couple are simply holes, obviously only meant for storage or perhaps ambushes for invaders. Yes, this was a very defensible base.
Zorlax is the first to find something of interest. A bunch of barrels was in one such storage hole, probably filled with liquid. What could be in them? Grog? Alchemist's fire?

Azzedar finally gets bored of eyeing his new 'home' and sits back on the ground.  Leaning his back up against the rock that the captain had blended into, he takes out his rapier and eyes it critically, as if trying to determine any fault or crack.

[Private to DM N1NJ4C0W: Okay, Sleight of Hand to get the Black Adder Venom out of my pouch and into my hand and another to apply it without anyone knowing.

Sleight of Hand: 24
Sleight of Hand: 17
Poison Check (5% chance): 29]

OOC: How big are the barrels?

OOC: About 3 feet tall by a foot wide

Hogar wanders around and in due time finds the barrels, checking out the bung hole of one he take a deep sniff.

[Private to GM: Be it Grog or something foul?  Hogar be thirsty!]

-PL-

[Private to Azzedar: You manage to apply your venom without anyone noticing.]

[Private to Hogar the Hapless: It's not grog but it smells alcoholic.]

Taking another deep breath, Hogar announces to any within hearing, "Shiver me timbers, tis not grog, but it smells good to me."

Tilting a barrel over to one side, Hogar pours out some of the liquid and tries to catch it in a mug.  His aim is a bit off and more ends up on the floor than in the mug.  However he is able to get a mug full and overflowing.  Letting the barrel sit back, he picks up the mug and take another deep smell.

"Well here goes, down the hatch!"

Hogar takes a deep sip of the liquid.

The tste is familiar to one such as yourself. It is Dwarven Red eye and really quite powerful.

[Private to Hogar the Hapless: Take a DC 14 fort. save.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:59, Thu 10 Nov 2005.

Zorlax watches with amusement as the dwarf downs the contents. He pauses then says casually You don't suppose that is the captian's merchandise do you?

Hogar starts to glup his mug of spirits, tis ol' Red Eye.  A good barrel of spirits.

[Private to GM: Fort Save: 10  Let the fun begin!]

"Ho there dwarf! Save some fer th' rest of us!  now where's a mug round here?"

Hoat casts about for a spare mug. No one out-drinks Hoat Hundemar, but that dwarf looks like a mighty contender...

(OOC:  Sorry I have not posted much lately - I hope to pick up the pace shortly)
This message was last edited by the player at 06:15, Fri 11 Nov 2005.

Azzedar sits in with his back against the stone with a half smile on his face as he watches the others go about their business.  Finding mugs for ale, worrying about merchandise, it really doesn't matter until this woman's ship gets back, anyway.

Finding a mug, Hoat taps the barrel, once the drink is finished, it seems a contest has begun.

[Private to Hoat Hundemar: DC 14 fort. save please.]
[Private to Hogar the Hapless: Take 2 wisdom damage and 1 dexterity damage (both temporary)]

Hogar finishes his full mug of 'Old Red Eye' and with eyes closed smacking his lips, you can tell that he is putting this taste into his memory.  After a few heartbeats he opens his eyes, if possible they appear to be a bit more bloodshot than before.

Looking over at Hoat, "Welllll, ye not being need to squeeze the rocks for ye drink.  There be good Old Red Eye here.  Now watch ye-self, it have a bit of a kick for those of ye that were not raised on such fine drink.  Once I even seen it knock a half-troll back on his arse when he tried to drink a snort of the good stuff. No regrowing parts for him, just burned his insides out all the way through.  Of course it had nothing to do with the vial of acid I poured in his mug. Hogar booming drunken laughter explodes as he remembers the past.

For some reason Hogar is content to sit for the time being.

The mug of 'Old Red Eye' is empty within seconds, and Hoat wipes his beard with a filthy hand. He laughs saying, "Har dwarf! You'll not outlast a Hundemar in a drinkin' contest! You're already lookin wobbly, an' this stuff's weak as mother's mi..."

At that moment, Hoat blinks and takes a step backward, as if something has just struck him on the head.  Another blink, and Hoat lets loose with a great "Whaaa-hoooo!"

Now-it'sss onn dwar'!"

Hoat refills his mug and again empties it in a single swig.


17:30, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 10 using 1d20+5. Fort Save. #1
17:42, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 8 using 1d20+5. Fort Save #2.

This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Fri 11 Nov 2005.

Shaking his head at Hoat's great boast, Hogar pours himself another mug full.  Pointing the mug at Hoat, "Ye big louts are all the same, ye thing, uh, ye think, yea that's right. Ye think that speed is the way to win.  It be how long ye last that wins.  Be it with the cups or the lasses."

Then he lifts the mug to his lips and slowly drinks it down without stopping. Enjoying every moment that the 'Old Red Eye' travels over his taste buds.

Fort Save: 23

-PL-

[Private to Hoat Hundemar: Take 3 temporary dexterity and wisdom damage]

Zorlax mutters under his breath and takes a small sip of the Red eye. He quickly spits the putrid stuff out and finds a clean place to sit and watch the drinking games.

A pained expression crosses Hoat's face, but he slams a great fist into a nearby rock to try and regain focus,

"You'll no' ge' th' best o' me dwarr'" he shouts, and throws back another mug full of Ol' Red Eye.

(OOC: 23:44, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 21 using 1d20+5. Fort Save. )
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 16 Nov 2005.

Hogar just laughts at Hoat's discomfort with a real Dwarven drink.  He fills his own mug again, only spilling about as much as he catches in his mug.  Taking a another slow long drink, he starts to cough about half-way through his mug.  With tears running out of his eyes, he mumbles, "Bit, went down the wong way.  Till mile as ye mums milk."

He finishes his mug and just stares at the barrel with a bit of drool pooling out of his mouth.

Fort Save: 10

Zorlax gets bored watching the drinking contests and continues searching around the cave (I assumed he stoped when he found the barrels)

Zorlax continues searching in the same way as before. It seems this place has all sorts of illusionary places as he soon finds another.

[Private to Hogar the Hapless: 1 dexterity and 2 wisdom damage.]

As the giant and the dwarf drink the redeye you all hear a shout coming from outside of the cove entrance. Soon enough, the prow of a boat pokes through the fake rock wall. It seems the ship has returned from it's shakedown.

Hoat tries to rid himself of the alcohol-induced haze with a shake of his great shaggy head.  With blurred vision, he squints at the newly-arrived ship, looking for any interesting details.

As the effects of the Ol' Red Eye wear off, Hoat picks his teeth with a dagger, waiting for something to happen.

The ship sails into the cove, the hustle and bustle of activity from on deck is plentiful. The crew seem rowdy as they offload some sacks. A gangplank is set at each side of the boat and while the rest of the crew does what it has to, a grizzled old man walks off and spots the group. He looks you all over before a series of dark 'flashes' appear, seeming to trail a route from the captain's 'office'.
Of course it is the cap'n herself. She rematerializes in front of the older man. He seems to be the first mate.

"How went the shakedown, Buck?" the captain asks the mate.
He answers in quite a harsh voice
"Better'n 'spected ma'am. Bunch o' stupid Waukeenar sailed too close to the Nelanthers bound south. Looted 'em of everythin' they had and left 'em sailin' with nary a morsel t' eat and only the wide waters t' drink. Weren't any bother an' we're only a little late back home."
The only response the captain gave was a nod but with that sign the mate continued.
"Who're them lot, cap'n?" he asks, sweeping an arm out towards the group.
"These're our new shipmates, Buck. Now you're back we can let our friends out o' the shadows, eh?" she looks up at the ceiling then puts her arms into position as if she were firing a crossbow at Hoat. 'Buck' stares at Hoat for a moment then erupts into a huge guffaw which the captain gladly shares in, placing an arm on his shoulder and slapping her leg.
"Fell fer that old one did they? Well, I've got to rouse this rabble into shiftin' the booty faster. We'll count it later, aye?" he walks off chuckling before yelling at an out of breath crewman to get off his backside.

The captain walks over to you now.
"What d'ye think o' me ship, me hearties? She be named the Desert Rose if'n ye want to be knowin'.

Zorlax examines the ship looking for several things. How big is this ship? Crew? Armaments? Number of sails.

I think it will do, a little on the smallish side, But I'll bet shes fast.

Hoat clears his throat loudly, pulling up a large mucus-filled wad.  He spits it a respectful distance away from the Captain and mate before replying,

"I s'pose she'll do fer me, Captain-ess. Even a Rose has some thorns. I just got two questions - where do I sign, an' where's my bunk?"

"Was taking all thier provisions really necessary? All of them could die of thirst before they reach an available source of fresh water. We looted everything of value from them how much could leaving them with a little bit of water cut into your take?" A voice calls from the ship. Soon a young man in about his mid twenties can be seen walking down the gangplank and headed towards Buck and the captain. Surprisingly the man appears to be a Priest and as one looks over his blue and silver robes and notices the large plain silver disk that dangles from a chain around his neck it becomes apparent that he's a Priest of Tymora.

Buck walks over, looking angry...angrier than usual.
"Ah, quiet yerself. Whatever they had was ours to take. If they're smart they'll just head back to Athkatla. They'll survive fer that long without anythin'. If they're stupid and go somewhere else, then it's their own fault."
He stares hard at Flik, as if daring him to argue.

"Hey, I was just worried about them alright! It's not like I'm an expert seaman who knows where every port is and how long it takes to get there. If you say that they'll be able to make it back fine I believe you, for now anyway, But that doesn't mean that leaving them atleast a day's worth of water just incase would of been a bad idea." Flik replies to buck.

Zorlax mtters I think I would have stove in their boat. Now if they make it to port, they will notify the port authorities as to the active operation of corsairs in the area. No need begging for some merchant's group to send out bounty hunters."

"Fer a wizard, ye ain't too smart. These are the Nelanthers, otherwise known as the Pirate Isles. O' course there's 'corsairs' in the area.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:44, Fri 06 Jan 2006.

"Heh, we've got a few new faces. Couln't resist our captain's hospitality I'd wager.Oh where are my manners I'm Flik, what are your names?"

Zorlax Marn, Keeper of Secrets. the mage replies with a low voice. He glances at the captian and offers a slim smile. His eyes twinkle as he watches and waits for the questions.

Aurlin walks onto the ship. This would not be the first time that Aurlin has been late to an appointment, nor would it be the last. He is six foot tall, has light blue skin and white hair. He wears baggy dark blue pants and a loose fitting light blue shirt, making no attempt to hide his air gensai heritage. He wears a belt holding multiple knives, pouches and a Rapier. A quiver of arrows and his pack are secured to his back, while his bow is tied in an easy release knot on his bag.

"So, this is the crew aye? His eyes never stop moving as he talks. "So what exactly have I signed on for here?


(OOC: sorry I havn't posted sooner. I didnt realise that the new crew members where being introduced.)

Behind the genasi walks an elf, almost a foot shorter, wearing white pants and shirt. He has long dark hair and deep green eyes that move from person to person, weighing each one. He carries a rapier at his hip and he holds the unstrung stave of a longbow in his hand. At Flik's question he turns to face him, a lazy smile on his face.

"I'm Aralanthalas." He says and inclines his head slightly.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Mon 09 Jan 2006.

"Nice to meet you, now are the rest of you going to introduce yourselves?" Flik asks. If anything he seems the type that doesn;t like sitting around waiting paitently.

Hoat spits at the feet of the questioner before standing his nearly seven-foot frame up straight and looking down at Flik.

"I be Hoat Hundemar of the far North, little man.  So now that ye have my name, what'll ye do with it?"

"Oh probablly lose it on a bet I'd imagine." Flik replies to the almost unnaturally tall man. Although the man was huge flik was not unnerved in the least.

Aurlin looks to the brown haired warrior, Flic. He takes his time to examine the warrior. He is not very fond of humans, or most races for that matter, but he doesn't see any other Gensai around so he figures it better to make friends. 'He looks like a tough one. Might be handy to get on his good side.' He gracefully walks over to the pirate and extends his hand. "Names Aurlin, Aurlin Sift.

Flik shakes Aurlin's offered hand "It's good meeting you Aurlin" Flik replies.

"So, Flic, whats the situation at the moment." He gazes over the ship and it's crew, "new recruit and all."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Thu 12 Jan 2006.

"Well, we just came back from our new ships shakedown voyage. She's fast, study and rearing to go. So after the loot is unloaded and the ship is properly stocked we will proabably be heading out, but you'd have to ask the captain to be sure. after all we don't really do anything with out her consent." Flik answers Aurlin.

Hoat bristles at being dismissed so easily. But no sense causing trouble til he figures out the chain of command.  Pissing off the Captain could earn him the crap duty for sure.  He throws his belongings over a shoulder and heads up the gangplank, casually assuming that anyone in his way will automatically get out of his way.

Zorlax seems wary as he boards the ship. He makes his way to the poop and examines the quarterdeck to get a feel for the layout of the vessel. If he finds nothing noteworthy, we will make his way down into the cabins and see if a wizard has ever graced this boat. He thinks to himself "Ship's wizard...hmm should rate at least an after cabin."

The captain now stands at the prow of the ship with Buck.
"All right you lot! We're setting sail on the morrow. Most of ye are likely weary after today and I'd hate t' hafta slit yer gizzard 'cuz ye're sleepin' on the job! Get to yer cabin, an grab yerselves a bunk afore ye hafta sleep in the hold. There's some grog in there but it has to last ye 'till we come back from tomorrow's voyage so don't get greedy. Off ye go!"

The crew rush off to the crew cabin, they obviously didn't doubt that the captain wasn't joking and nobody wanted to sleep in the hold.

"Wizard! I wish t' speak with ye." Blackmane continues, gesturing for Zorlax to join her.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Fri 13 Jan 2006.

Flik goes to the cabin and grabs himself a bunk like the capatain suggested.

Aurlin heads below deck to drop of his pack and grab a bunk. After examining the crude "grog", Aurlin chooses to pass, prefering to wait for something a little more to his own taste.

Aralanthalas waits for a moment on the deck. A raven that had been cirling the cove descends and lands on his shoulder. After that, Aralanthalas and his companion head below decks to find a bunk.

Zorlax sneers the the others and struts after the firey captian. He seems full of himself as he follows the captian to her cabin in the stern. I assume you wish to inquire about my..skills in the art?

"That I do." she replies. "I wish t'know how much magic you've got that'll be useful to us when we're sailin'." she tosses some scrolls at you from a bag at her side.

Zorlax glances at the scrolls and raises an eyebrow at the captian. May I? Without waiting Zorlax scans the scrolls to see what they are. he pauses and considers his own meager skills. I can do most small magics, as for the more powerful arts, I can entrap enemies with webs, identify items, cast bolts of magic, and a few other minor spells, one with acid. To be honest, I haven't aquired the more offensive spells. But if you have more of these, I can cast them for you." He casually glances around the cabin noting the captian's oddities.

"Aye, it's temptin' to give ye all of me scrolls but yer new and I don' know if I can trust ye just yet. Plus if I give ye all I've got, what reason do ye have to carry on workin' fer me if there's no reward? Ye don' like grog an' you're not much up fer brawlin by the looks of ye, so I'll hold on to what I've got left fer now." she says
"Crew quarters is no place to be studyin' a spellbook either, so ye're gonna stay in the second cabin with Buck. He smells a bit and can be a pretty ornery person but he's better company than that rowdy lot o' fellers below decks. Ye gotta earn Bucks respect afore he'll be any kind o' nice to ye. Now get ye gone. I've got plans to draw up."

After spending some time below deck, Aurlin decides a change of atmosphere is in order, somthing a little less........ confined. Returning to the deck, he climbs up the mast a perches on one of the beams, not worrying about falling, as levitation has always come naturally to him.

OOC: Do I get to keep these scrolls?

OOC: Yes. She expects you to transcribe them into your spellbook.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:41, Sun 15 Jan 2006.

Hoat finds a bunk (or hammock) that is closest to the entryway and easiest for one of his height to use, and makes it his own.  He does not seem to care if anyone else happens to be using it.

OOC: Seems noone wants to do anything further so I'll skip ahead to the next day.

You awake to the sound of banging from the hatch leading back up to the deck. It opens and Buck comes inside yelling.

"Wakey, Wakey lads! 'Tis a beautiful day fer some lootin'! Get yer sorry arses up!"

HAving been awoken by the lovely Buck, Zorlax is already at the galley chewing on a smallish hunk of cheese. He grabs a skin of light beer and heads back into his cabin, to contiue work on his new scrolls.


OOC: What did my spellcraft/read magic spells uncover about them?
20:38, Today: Zorlax Marn rolled 19 using 1d20+8. spellcraft 4.
20:38, Today: Zorlax Marn rolled 19 using 1d20+8. spellcraft 3.
20:38, Today: Zorlax Marn rolled 22 using 1d20+8. spellcraft 2.
20:38, Today: Zorlax Marn rolled 15 using 1d20+8. Spellcraft check 1

This message was last edited by the player at 11:52, Wed 18 Jan 2006.

Felling lazy and not wanting to get up, Aurlin is about to bury his head in his pillow when he hears the magic word. ' Looting..........'
He gets up instantly, gets dressed, grabs his gear, and heads above deck, whistling merrily the whole way.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:51, Wed 18 Jan 2006.

Flik gets dressed, grabs his gear and heads up to the deck as well. Once on deck flik asks "So who are we going to rob today?"

Aralanthalas does the same and heads up on deck. Time for a little fun, is it?

Finally, Hoat moves himself up to the main deck, scratching himself.

"Ho-kay now! Where's the action!"

Buck assigns each of the new crewmembers their jobs.
Zorlax, of course is ship's mage, Aurlin's natural abilities are perfect for work in the crow's nest (much to the relief of the rest of the crew), Hoat's strength will help him work the rudder and Flik is the 'surgeon'.

This means that Hoat is the only new crew member that has to do any active, day-to-day work on the ship but his immense strength will make it relatively easy.

The Desert Rose sets off from the cove, ready to sail the high seas.