Wick shook his head, tried to clear away the cobwebs.  The last few, what, days...  weeks... months even?  Unlike some of the others, Wick had not found the rolling a problem, but the effects of the seasickness from others made it near as bad.

The gruel hadn't been any worse than what he often enjoyed before too, though he was used to a good deal more in the way of portions.  The cook had known that an empty belly wasn't no good for getting a days work out of a fellow.

Stars still dancing in his eyes, Wick noted that nothing rattled too much when he shook his head.  All in all, things could have been worse, but then they could have been a damn sight better too.  Cold as a witches heart, at least he could get a breath of fresher air.

Wick half-heartedly tugged at the bonds, as he had many times before, but with the ship busted up it was worth trying it again.  Even if the bonds were tied to the keel, there were enough bodies here to shift it about if the ship was broken up enough.  Of course, if the keel was that beat up, they'd be drowning like rats already.

"Shut up and calm down!  Your still breathing and if you want to keep it that way, we need to work together." Wick shouted as loud as he could, trying get the screaming down to a dull roar.  "First, can anyone reach the damn hatch?"

"The keys, not the hatch, can anyone reach the keys!"

Dak was able to get out of his bunk and climb enough rungs to reach the keys.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:09, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

Climbing back down with the keys, Dak used them on his shackles and began releasing the others.  At least they weren't going to drown in this broken husk of a ship.

As soon as a few of the captives were freed, Wick called out again.  "Get topside, find out what sort of shape were in and report back."  Of course, if they were slipping off whatever god forsaken piece of rock and into the ocean, he'd fully expect the scouts to save their own butts, just as he'd do in their place.

   For the pale-skinned and black haired girl dressed in a torn chemise who sat at the end of the bed nearest the bulkhead, before had been a life hidden in the shadows and making a living from what others might not miss. A half-loaf here, a few coins there ... her fingers were small and nimble and rarely was she caught by the Guard. But even with her skills, she'd never accounted for what had hit her in the back of the head.

   She'd been cautious from the moment that she'd awoken and kept to herself, especially when the cook arrived with their thin gruel. The movement of the ship made her stomach queasy and it afforded her little sleep, and what passed for food barely stayed down at the best of times. She'd also kept her distance from the cook, regardless of his mood - she seemed wary when he was in good spirits, and frightened enough that when he wasn't and took out his frustrations on one of the others, she dashed under the bed to keep out of sight. But it had proved little good, as he would simply pull on the chain that secured her to the bed and punish the half-elf all the more. The only thing that she was interested in was the keys that hung a short distance away. She was no mage, but on occasion, she wished that she could have been - if only to score the screw that would open her bonds and allow her to escape. And if the cook were to suffer an accident along the way ...

   The arrival of the squall made life harsher for the young girl - being on the water in a boat was bad enough, but the weather only made things go from bad to worse, which left her weaker and more vulnerable than usual. She didn't understand what the man with the whip said, but the goad spoke loudly enough. But when the shouting had died away until only the sounds of the wind and waves were heard, she began first to wonder, then worry herself. Where is everyone? she wondered, Have we been abandoned?

   The crash of the ship hitting something, followed by the sounds of wood cracking and breaking had made the girl yelp in surprise, then cry out as one of the others was impaled. The feel of the cold air on her faded skin raised small bumps and made her start to shiver ... She looked in the direction of the shaven-headed boy as she heard his laughter and shook his head. Madness ...

   The sound of one of the others managing to free himself, caught her attention. He'd managed to break through and secure the keys, first unlocking himself, then removing the others. Her hands shook as the bonds were unlocked, and she took a moment to rub the limb where she'd been secured. "Praise the Gods for small mercies," she said in a low tone, speaking more to herself than anyone else. She wasted little time in trying to make it to the hatch where she could escape ...

Stubbornly, the hatch refused to open when tried.  Looking out the gaping hole where the bow had once been, it was apparent that the ship had run well and truly aground, and the planking which comprised the floor of the hold was perhaps only a foot and a half above the level of the rocky beach.

Looking out at the beach, it was currently being pounded by rain, bitingly cold and driven by wind until the raindrops felt more like hard pellets of ice, though it was not, in actuality quite cold enough for freezing.  Out on the beach, currently marching away from the starboard side of the ship was Matuk, a sword in one hand and a bottle in the other.

The rocks on the beach ranged in size from about the size of a fist to slightly larger than a man's head.

Storm thanks Dax for saving the group. His brush with near death taught him that he had to value his life as it is just too short. On the way out from the ship, he tries to see if there is anything useful hat he can salvage to help the group improve its chances of survival.

When he sees Mutuk walking away, he asks his companions if they should stop the slaver. Perhaps he is drunk and walking away may cause him to be in danger.

Wick waits impatiently for his turn to be freed.  Once done, he pushes his way forward to look through the hole.  "If any go after him, it's to get that sword.  There's enough rocks to  put him down, but the way we're dressed, i don't know that we'd survive the night."

Wick looks the place over, wondering about getting out on the beach and climbing up to the deck.  "The only good we got here is protection from the storm, no food, no water...  No point in everyone getting soaked, I'll go take a look."  Wick jumps nimbly down to the beach.

Dak made sure he hadn't missed unlocking everyone and made sure anyone that looked dead was actually dead.  It would be awful to have missed someone that may have survived if he'd just been paying attention.

The Elf took a few minutes to get to his feet, and breathed heavily through an open mouth as he made his way unsteadily closer to the hole that had been torn asunder during the beaching of the vessel. He stood there a few paces back from the opening, and leaned against the bulkhead as some of the others spoke and organized. He mouthed a word of soft thanks to Dak and coughed dryly, before he focused on the man with the sword down the way.

"Drunk perhaps?" he commented to nobody in particular. "Lost and drunk..."

   Going to the hatch, she tried to open it with her fingers, then pounded on it with her hand when it refused to budge. She tried once, then again by putting her shoulder into it, but that only left her with a sore joint and a wave of fatigue and nausea ... she slammed her hand against the wood and then made her way down.

   She caught sight of the ugly one with a sword in one hand and a bottle in the other.  A quick glance showed that he was dressed better than they all were and he possessed a sword that one of the others would be better at using than she was. He was not that far past the open hole where the ship had run around; the only problem with going after him was the fatigue she felt, as well as the slippery conditions that would affect both her and the slaver.

   She watched as the Elf followed the Slaver, and her eyes narrowed before she herself followed. She reached down, fighting a bout of nausea as she picked up a rock a little larger than the palm of her hand and advanced as quietly as she could on the drunken sailor ...

When the ship had run aground and tossed everyone around to the extent the chains allowed, Panatix had taken another hard rap to the skull when he was flung back into the dark corner of his low level bunk in the rear starboard of the hold.  He might have been unconscious for only a few moments, but quite a bit had happened in that time.  Slowly, Panatix rolled to try to sit again, groaning with one hand on his head, the other not quite reaching due to the chains.  The rattle of the chains enough to remind him that he was still a prisoner, while also identifying his location for his fellow survivor who had obtained the keys.

After he was freed, Angus thanked Dak for unchaining him. Then Angus looked around for a piece of bunk that could be used as a club. Finding something suitable, he made his way to the hole to escape the hold of the ship, ready to defend himself from Matuk or anyone else they encountered.

From the gaping hole in the hold, those who emerged that step further onto the beach were able to see that the port side of the ship rested against a cliff that seemed to grow shorter along its run to the left of their position, perhaps fifty feet away from the ship, the cliff had resolved into more of a low wall that might, perhaps be climbed over.  The cliff itself was a sheer face of rock along the beach side for its run.  The sky was quite black, but there still seemed to be enough diffuse light through the storm clouds that it seemed to be daytime still.

Along the starboard side of the ship, those venturing far enough to see would notice that there were several lines that seemed to have made a ladder of sorts for Matuk.

The beach itself would leave anyone there exposed for Matuk to see, should he turn around.  As it was, it appeared that now about sixty feet from the ship, he was preparing to turn around and stagger his way back toward the wreckage.

Having found and released everyone surviving the wreck, Dak braced himself to crawl out onto the wind blown beach.  If the slaver turned on them, they would need as many rocks as they could throw.

After getting on the shore, seeing Matuk with a sword and knowing a cub straight up was no match in his weakened condition, he gathered together a pile of rocks and then picked one to throw when the time came. "He appears to be drunk and coming back to lay ruin on us all. Prepare to defend yourself."

Panatix nods a silent thanks to the new key-master and rubs his wrists after the confines of the heavy shackles. Standing up for the first time in a while, he staggers a little but regains his balance quickly and follows the Keymaster to the hole in the hull of the ship. He's trying to see around the human but above all else wants out of the dark, foul smelling hold and into the open air. The Keymaster appears to hesitate at the hole but Panatix can't take it any longer and slips by him to get out of the ship.

If he's going to die, he's going to do it in fresh air.

As the survivors gathered at the opening of the hold and most started collecting rocks, finding that these were both plentiful and more likely to bring down the pirate now staggering toward them, Matuk took notice of the fact that they were on the beach, which in his opinion was clearly not where they belonged.

"Meat, get back inna hold!" he shouted, taking another drink from the bottle in hand, before dashing it against the rocks of the beach.  He started staggering more quickly toward them all.

Current distance about 50 feet and closing.

Post combat actions, and roll a d10 and a d20 if making an attack.

Not liking the way the man still thought of them as cargo, Dak wound up with a stone the size of his fist and let fly.  He wasn't going to be shackled again.

OOC: Dak rolled 2+1 using 1d10.  Initiative.
Dak rolled 14-4 using 1d20.  Thaco 20.

edit: nonproficiency
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Hearing the slaver speak, Storm knows that he has to fight to defend himself and his friends. Roaring, he charges forward and strikes the tormentor with his fists. Although he has learnt to see that the man could be kind, he realizes that in his drunken state, he is unable to see reason.

OOC: rolled for initiative and attack. Post when I get to a desktop08:54, Today: Storm rolled 10 using 1d20+1.  Attack Thaco 20.
08:53, Today: Storm rolled 8 using 1d10+1.  Initiative .
This message was last edited by the player at 08:06, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Seeing there companion returning, Wick stops trying to climb to the main deck and gathers up some stones.  He'd been pretty good at throwing darts, he'd see if the same was true with rocks.

22:54, Today: Wick rolled 9 using 1d10+2.  Initiative
22:54, Today: Wick rolled 18 using 1d20+2.  THAC0. (should be 16, forgot to pull off the +2 on initiative)
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:10, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Panatix looks around and spots the rigged rope ladder just as the Keymaster casts the first stone. As quickly as he can, Panatix begins to climb up the side of the ship.

Angus picks one of his stones as Matuk approaches he throws it with all his might, sending it sailing over the pirates head!

07:54, Today: Angus rolled 2 using 1d10. initiative.
07:53, Today: Angus rolled 2 using 1d20. to hit.