Most of you remember it this way: You were walking in the countryside near your homes, strolling home from the tavern after a night's drinking, walking down to the river to fetch some water, or gone to visit some lass or lad in neighboring village.  And, suddenly, you heard a thrashing in the underbrush around you, and before you could turn you felt a whale of a blow to the back of your head, and everything went black.

When you awoke, you were in the dark, tiny, stinking hold of the pirate galley, shackled by your wrists to the sturdy beams of the slave bunks, bunks stacked like cordwood. There were about 40 other captured folk of the archipelago there. You were sick from the blow to your head and from the tossing of the ship, from the revolting gruel the slaver pirates occasionally fed you, and from the knowledge that you were bound for one of the western slave ports, never again to see your own home. Mockingly, the keys to your shackles were hung from a hook right by the hatch to the deck, only 5 or 6 feet from the lot of you. They might as well be miles away.

(This is your chance to RP and get to know each other.  Yes, this means you.)

In the corner a nauseated and shackled half elf was sitting, obviously angry at what had happened.
He cursed the pirates and said to the others in the stinking hold:
This is what you get with pirates. They've got no respect for decent people. Here I am, visiting my neighboring farmers, walking home, and wham, they hit me and treat me like an animal. And they treat animals very badly. Now I know how to treat an animal, I'm very good at it, I say. But these pirates, they're monsters. They're so mean and evil. They're worse than animals. My name is Jory Longarm, by the way.

It's the voice cutting through the creaking of the ship and the soft sound of waves battering against the ship that woke the young man. He had been in and out of consciousness thus far and no one was able to get much out of him save for a few grunts and groans. Dried blood from a nasty gash on his head that is already starting to heal has masked a good bit of his facial features. Instinctively he tries to reach for the wound to comfort his pain and is met by the immediate resistance of the shackles about his wrists. Dumbfounded, the young man tries again before his eyes find their way to the rusty shackles, " What? Ugh ... " Seeing as how he can't bring his hands to his head he brings his head to his hands.

Eventually he takes his head from his hands. Looking around for what appears to be the first time his eyes widen as he slowly takes in his predicament. Seeing the source of the voice that woke him he turns his attention to the man, " Ugh ... Jory? Pirates? We've been taken by pirates? " He grimaces and rests his head upon his arm, obviously still in pain from the blow he took about his head. He is young, perhaps sixteen or so. By the looks of him he has seen some heavy labor during those few years, possibly as a farmer but more likely as a porter of some sort as his build looks to have been formed by the constant weight of lifting heavy objects.

Lying nearby Tath slowly stirred as he heard voices. Keeping his eyes closed and attempting to not move his head to much, as even the slightest movement brought a throbbing pain to his skull. He slowly eased himself into a seated position, head hanging between his knees. "Aaagh, filthy pirates."

Pulling on the heavy chains, and slowly looking about "Names Tath Sua, looks like we are in quite a pickle friends."

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
In the intro to this thread, it says: "... from the revolting gruel the slaver pirates occasionally fed you.." So I guess we've been on this ship for at least a day and that we know that we've been taken by pirates who want to sell us as slaves.

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Jory wondered whether the young man, who hadn't said his name so far, was seriously wounded. He seemed to be on the verge of unconsciousness all the time. I think you need medical attention, young man. You're not well, everyone can see that. Apparently they hit you very hard on the head, as you've been unconscious most of the time. Perhaps we should call the pirates and say that one of their valuable trade assets is about to loose its value.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Wed 13 Sept 2017.

Another youth nearby stirs groggily, the lack of food and comfortable sleep telling that his story is the same as theirs.  When he looks up, his auburn hair, hazel eyes, and fair-skinned and freckled face are those of the tavern owner's son, Daniv Jensen.  Most times, he is seen only as he brings food from the kitchen to the bar for the servers to deliver to the tables.
As he looks about, there is a bruise and a small gash just above his left eye, and another thin cut running from the corner of that eye, to the corner of his lip that is encrusted in blood.
I would consider being angry with you lot for waking me up, if my dreams were not as bad as this filthy sty, he says with a yawn.  He looks about the hold, the bunks, the other prisoners.  Anyone have any ideas on how we can get out of here?

 And yet, another damned soul on this ferry on the Styx, made a groaning noise. A man many with flaxen hair began to sir on the top shelf of the cord wood. He had a rather nasty bump on his head, as blue eyes fluttered open. “ What…… what in the name of the Gods happened.. and what is that smell?” croaked his voice.

The tall and sturdy Lam felt anything but that as he woke from his slumber. "Still here, huh" he thought, as if his rest would free him from his shackles. He heard the voices of others as they spoke. But Lam chose not to. He waited to see what the near future would bring.

Jory realized belatedly that he knew the youth, it was Daniv from the tavern!
Hey Daniv, you here too? I hadn't recognized you before, man, you look bad, all bruised and a bit bloody. And no, I don't have the faintest idea about how to get these shackles off. If you've got muscles of steel, then go ahead and try. But I think these shackles were craft to restrain an ox or a horse! There's no alternative but to wait and hope we'll get a master who deals with his slaves in a human way, rather than this bestial cruelty we're in now.

Daniv turns as best he can to face Jory, though, from his position, it isn't very well.  He notices others from the tavern are imprisoned with the two youths.
Well, if you hadn't been making googly eyes at Elsbeth Dunnhill instead at home,  you might not be here, he says with a chuckle.  I told you that girl was going to be nothing but trouble for you.  Then again, she have been trouble for all of us.
He tests the strength of the manacles.  When that yeilds nothing of use, he begins looking around.  I, for one, have no intention letting myself be sold into slavery.  Even were it to the richest, kindest, and most beautiful of mistresses.  He is hoping to find a loose, thick sliver of wood, or loose nail, anything he might be able to use to try to pick the lock of the manacles.

Jory answers Daniv:
I wouldn't mind a beautiful and kind mistress. Perhaps I could seduce her with my good looks and take over her holdings. But I'll look around too for useful things here....

Jory also looks around for sharp nails or other things which might be used to get the shackles opened.

"I agree with Jory, I could get to like being owned by a nice and beautiful mistress. Though the way my luck goes it would be some flea bitten hag I would end up being sold too."

Tath twists around trying to gain better purchase on the chain and attempts to pull the chains loose again.

No thank you,
 Deniv responds as he finally finds a sliver of wood he can pry free.  It looks thick enough to hold up to the job, but he cannot be sure until he tries.  Reaching the locking mechanism is difficult, but he finally manages it.  Atnthe angle he has to work, he knows that success is a long shot.  But, he tries anyway.
By the Nine Hells, he mutters as the sliver breaks in the lock.  Now, he has to work to get it back out.....

Rebeccah finally rouses herself from unconsciousness and looks around the hold.  She had heard of slavers working the islands, but she wasn't aware of any hitting any settlements around her.  The boat rocked suddenly causing her to hiss in pain as the tender spot on the back of her head hit the wall.  "Ow."  She suppressed the urge to cry in front of all these strangers.

In reply to Rebeccah (msg # 14):

A swollen temple and right eye mark the one who at least managed to hear his attacker coming. He had drifted in and out since coming to the first time to the scraping of chains, the tossing of the sea, the groans and disquiet of the slaves, and the shouting of the pirates above. Now though his strength had mostly returned, though he does t move in any fashion to let anyone know he was awake. Not that sal had ever been in a cargo bay as the cargo before, but something told him to gauge his fellow slaves- no, prisoners, he corrected himself- for the ones who seem tough butewl before the Masters. So he spent some time observing. He had the one named  Daniv to his right, and Rebecca was to his left and up a row, by his feet. Now he stirred, daniv seemed like an all right fellow. He nudged Rebecca with his foot- or at least, he was going to ask her to retrieve something from his shoe- but he didn't even have shoes, anymore. So instead, he smiled kindly at the girl and nudged her with his foot anyways.  listen- its scary here, and i imagine it must be doubly so for a lady. i just wanted to let you know that, so far as im able i wont let anyone prisoner or otherwise, take advantage of you. he supposed his directness might come off suspiciously, but he really was being g honest.

Edward, who had been a healer in his village, was shocked and disgusted to find himself a prisoner on a pirate ship. Though he could tend to the wounds of his fellow villagers, he found himself unable to tend to his own bruises and cuts as his hands were shackled. All he could do is wait in solemn silence as the other prisoners spoke to one and other. Though he may look serious and dignified, in truth he was doing his best to keep the disgusting food (if it could even be called food) in his stomach.

In an attempt to keep the other prisoners' spirits up Edward finally speaks, "If this is to be our fate, let us go in dignity." Admittedly this did not sound very inspiring once it was out.

Ha!  Deniv was looking at the healer.  There have not been many, but there have been merchants with slaves come to the tavern.  My father took their coin without any thought to it.
He looks over at the girl, then at each of the other prisoners in turn.  Most were treated badly.  Forced to do things at night in their masters' room.  Made to eat from the floor.  To sleep with the horses and cattle.  Some were treated well enough, but still as property.  There is no dignity in this... life.  His voice is not loud, almost a whisper in volume.  But it carries a vehemence of one who has experienced degradation.
The peoples of Highport abhor slavery.  But, in the port cities and their surrounding lands, it is... tolerated for the sake of increased trade.
He stands as best he can in the cramped confines of the hold.  He puts his feet against the wall and he begins to tug as hard as he can manage.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:18, Fri 15 Sept 2017.

In reply to Daniv Jensen (msg # 17):



Sal nodded to the healer, agreeing tacitly, but when Daniv spoke he felt compelled to speak. Ah, rather, brother? There is no dignity in the life that they assign us to, no. But we are not only what they make of us. I am Sal Warth, degenerate lowlife with a heart o' gold I sold a long time ago to pay for my gambling habits. he grinned at himself and tipped a nonexistent hat.  he gestured around him to the chains, and above to the pirates. I am not defined by these chains, by their rules. Neither are you, Daniv. So why not play the same game you always have? don't be rash, be smart- comply as much as you need to, not an ounce more, and when there's  a chance of a solid out, then take it. What should you accomplish, by breaking free of those chains, now? gonna hop overboard? take on the whole crew? he then grimaced, saying I hope you'll forgive the sarcasm I used to crudely illustrate. I digressed a bit there, but the point is this: dignity is what you make for yourself, it is independence, and culture that is not defined by these pirates or whoever they sell us to. He spoke in a quiet voice that nevertheless carried to each that were clear eyed, punctuated by bits of passion he restrained quickly.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:21, Fri 15 Sept 2017.