Pirates of the Shackles

Landfall on the island

28 Abadius 4713

Th

Landing the two ship’s boats was easy, given the deep beach at low tide. The sailors were able to drag both boats onto the shore and secure their small anchors on a heap of rocks sitting near the mid-tide mark.

The beach itself was about 50 feet deep from the high water mark. The canopy of trees was dense and little was visible beyond a few feet into the jungle. Aside from shattered shells, kelp, and some dead fish, there was no evidence of any life on the island or in the trees. No birds chirping, no monkeys or other animals making noise – the island seemed, other than the plants, to be entirely devoid of life.

A trail, about 5 feet wide, provided the only easy access into the jungle, and opened onto the beach a short distance to the west of where the four sailors had stepped ashore, their pants wet to the knees and remaining clothes still damp from the night’s storm. A moderate breeze blew from west to east; the sun was warm, and the air was a cool 70 degrees.

The gig held several barrels, seemingly sturdy enough to be rolled, for whatever freshwater could be found. There was also about 100 feet of stout rope and a few shorter sections, brought along as tools.

Surveying the scene, the four men could see the hilltop, about a mile to their east (left), the trail opening, and a low ridge to the south/southeast, about a mile inland. The canopy of trees was upwards of 30 feet high, dense, and with additional branches at lower levels on most trees.

Looking back, The Man’s Promise was sitting about a mile offshore, listing every so slightly to port, its sails furled and both anchor lines out, holding the ship steady while the crew, no doubt, worked hard to repair the hull breach.


Meta
It’s about 8am, meaning that you’ve got about 10 hours of sunlight today. Based on the tide right now, it looks like high tide will come somewhat before dawn on the day after tomorrow – maybe an hour or so.

All I need in the comments on this post is the direction you’re going to go and what you’re bringing with you and how, as well as a marching order for once you enter the jungle, whether you’re on the trail or not (since you have no idea if the trail heads to wherever you decide to go).

Of course, any other issues or banter can be taken care of here. All I need are those things so that I can plan for exactly where we’ll start on Saturday. Since we’re playing this again this week, and then taking at least one week off from it, I want to make good progress during this next session.

Comments

Redrum mutters to the others,“Tis a foul place…she bids us beware.” As he puts on the coil of rope and heads down the trail.

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I am NOT wearing a barrel… again!

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Looks like we don’t have much of a choice now. Red’s in front, I’ll protect his back. Jiago follow me, Mal, bring up the rear. We’ll save sandara, and smiley. She can fill the barrels with the blessings of besmara. That is if our new friend here cannot. Trust gentlemen. Trust each other and we will survive. Work together as a crew, and we shall thrive!" Grims is trying to provide encouragement, and bolster spirits.
“You know, this reminds me of the time just outside of port peril. A young lad I was, trees a hunnerd feet high…..” Grims starts into a story as he has often done. Think Don Johnson from Harley-Davidson and the Marlboro man.

Landfall on the island
 

Mal looks at Grim, then to Red and Jaigo, then back to Grim. He thinks to himself “this human has experience well beyond 16 years, he must have been reincarnated”

Landfall on the island
 

Meta
Damn good point, Lil Mal. Thom: I would like you to increase Grims’ age – make him 20, please. If he left for a life of adventure on the high seas at 14 or so, and knocked doing low-level work on a few ships and in Port Peril, he’d hav reached 1st level by the time we started, and would be about 20. 20 years old it is. I will not be so cheeky as to make the change on your sheet myself; please do it for us, and for sake of the story, he’s 20.

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Mal takes on a determined look and says “Lets do this Chums”

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Age adjusted… Although his stories can be what we in the royal navy call “a lie”. Grims does tend to talk A Lot, and not all is true, just (hopefully) entertaining, and enlightening.

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It’s cool, Bards are talkative.

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I’m not a bard. I don’t sing and dance wearing those funny outfits. I’m a sailor with a tendency for storytelling. Sometimes I may even deal in skullduggery. But, Bard? Hell no.

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“Listen up, you scurvy dogs: Are we out for an afternoon stroll? Or are we hunting? It would be nice if we heard them before they heard us, if at all possible.” Grumbled in elven: “like a heard of oliphants.”

Landfall on the island
 

Meta
Brilliant! This is exactly the sort of thing the OP can enable. Remember Grigoryi’s trial? I think we’re going to have more of that level of dialog and narrative, now that you’re settling into and stretching the legs of your characters. Very cool, indeed.

And I’m okay with the bard now – I think Thom’s got a great idea for fitting the story behind the bard class into this pirate setting.

Landfall on the island
 

Mal looks thoughtful and says “good point! I am going to scout ahead” stealth ahead and come back with updates every 20 minutes or so.

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Perception 6, stealth 7, survival 5 (7 if human based like leaving foot prints) these are the scores Grims is using most.
When being quiet, he continues to whisper under his breath. His mouth is detached from his brain and continues to speak, even if there isn’t anything coming out of his mouth.

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“Damn spell backfired!!!” Grims mutters. As the group turn to look at him to see a (non violent) swarm of nats buzzing around his face. “Besmara has a sense of humor, that one. At least the mosquitoes have left me alone.”

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Mongangwa looks for edible sunfruit (nature roll on what’s edible). Picking at the foilage as if on a stroll, “There is a bad place here,” the stoic lets out. Without further ellaboration, the group shruggs and mark it up as the normal banter of their voodoo friend as they see him whisper into his satchel. “God does not see pretty picture in this small sand.” Very seriously he tells the group to stop. “What is that?” he whispers scanning the jungle around them. Expecting some tribe of natives to spring from the dense thickets, the group of adventurers grip their weapons tightly. Sweat breaks down their brows in anticipation. “The wind,” the Mwangi smiles back, wide grin, in ill time humor. “Ha ha ha!”

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Jaigo, minus the train, of course.

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FYI: Jaigo recognizes a few edible fruits, should anyone be hungry for something other than weevil biscuits or Red’s special cream and broth.

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From behind the group, there is a soft whistle and as they turn they see Mal. Wiping his brow of the sweat he says “Sure is humid out here! By the way, there is an abandoned village up ahead, about 10 minutes. Doesn’t look like any threats, but if we have to spend the night, it might be a good place to find shelter.”

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“So who do we throw off the ship next?” “Maybe we poison the food and water” Jaigo listens to his satchel, “No, he has no meat on him to eat.”

Landfall on the island
Lyle

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