Amongst the Skulls and Shackles - A Pathfinder Campaign

A late night of drinking at the Red Eyed Fly.
Party like it's 1699.

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“Yawan anything?!” The burly dwarf poked you in the ribs with a serving tray that had seen it’s better days. He was barely heard over the noise of the celebration going on inside of the Red-Eyed Fly. Apparently, some Pathfinder Society types had discovered some something or other and recovered it for some other uppity types that lived in that part of town you’d never seen. They had gold though, and gold brought whores. The entirety of the two closest brothels, The Shucked Oyster and the House of Comfort, was here tonight trying to loosen the purse strings of some of these ‘heroes’.

You just came here because you needed work. This was as good a spot as any to find it. Many sea captains stopped in occasionally because it was on a wharf. You were looking for work aboard a ship…any ship…and you’re luck might have just changed. You spotted a surly looking sea type walk in the waterside door in the company of a surly group of swabs. You look back up at Olenjack, the proprietor of this establishment, and point.
“Yeah, I’d like to buy that group of gentlemen a drink. I need to soften them up for a job.”

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Swab the Poop Deck!
1 Sarenith 4713 A.R. (Day 1)

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Under the watchful eye of Master Scourge, you become well acquainted with the art of swabbing the deck. Some of you even get to practice knot tying albeit at 60 feet above a hard landing. After the first day of the sun making you wish you had slept off the night before, you line up to get your rum ration. It smells like poop with a hint of lime. Sandara meets you along the railing by your designated meeting spot. Surprisingly, she’s wearing her coat and hat that she was wearing the night before in the Red Eyed Fly.

“Look who I ran into…” Sandara (or Sandra as she likes to be called) pulled out a small cricket cage from underneath her coat. It was a familiar looking Scorpion! Moyra couldn’t contain her excitement and quickly released the arachnid.

“Where did you find her!?”

“While you guys were ‘working’, I decided to make friends. I ran into

Cut-Throat Grok

the female half-orc that plays at being the quartermaster around here, and I sweet talked her. Turns out, she’s a loyal follower of Besmara too. So she gave me my holy symbol and some of my clothes back. That critter was wrapped up in my coat and gave me quite the scare! Then I remembered you said he might belong to you! What’s the little guys name?"

You can tell immediately that Sandra is going to be a fast friend.

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Secret ingredients!
2 Sarenith 4713 A.R. (Day 2)

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“Mr. Fishguts!”
Moyra shook the corpulent cook trying to wake him. Unfortunately, the cooking sherry was winning that fight. Ambrose snuffled and pulled away, turning over on a pillow of flour sacks and cuddling up against a chicken.
Moyra looked around the cramped but chaotic kitchen and took it all in.
The galley holds two wooden worktables, several wooden cupboards, and two small stoves against the port wall, as well as virtually every cooking utensil imaginable and a frightening array of meat cleavers. A score of chickens and three goats wander freely throughout the
chamber; the goats are meant to be caged, but have a distressing tendency to escape their bonds. The kitchen is a madness of dirt, food, and knives, and finding anything in here requires effort. The stoves are perpetually lit, and large cauldrons bubble away atop them all times. A huge array of spices mingle with barrels of rainwater, two tuns of rum, cupboards full of ship’s biscuit and salted beef, barrels of sauerkraut, and a small supply of fresh vegetables picked up in Port Peril.
Moyra thought she’d put forth that effort. After an hour or so of searching, her efforts produced the following spoils:

A masterwork dagger being used as a butcher’s knife, a pair of handaxes used as meat cleavers, a vial of holy water, a good lock hanging unused off a pantry cupboard, 2 pounds of soap, four waterskins, a barrel of poor wine, six bottles of good Chelish brandy worth 20 gp each, three bottles of magnificent rum worth 12 gp each, a large cookbook worth 125 gp (using the tome while cooking grants a +1 circumstance bonus on Profession [cook] checks), a prosthetic leg made of wood and edged with a silver band worth 45 gp, and 12 sp fallen behind a cupboard. In addition, a trio of harpoons, a spear, and a grappling hook that sparkles in the right light are hanging on the walls. One other item of interest was also found…

Later, while Jag approached the soup pot to get his nightly rations, Moyra slipped the orc a small vial with his hard tack. Jag raised one eyebrow,
“What dis?”
Moyra smiled and pointed in the direction of the quartermaster. I overheard your inquiry to the Quartermaster. I thought this might help."
Jag couldn’t really read the label on the vial, but as it was explained later, it said ‘Elixir of Love’.

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Careful What You Wish For

Moyra attempted to rest in her hammock to little avail. The stinging of her back had only subsided somewhat after Sandra did her bit of healing. She grit her teeth just remembering being sent into unconsciousness at Master Scourge’s enthusiastic punishment. It had, decidedly, been a poor turn of events for the most part. Her attempt to secure Grok’s favor and push her towards Jag had nicely blown up in her face. It was enough to send feelings of panic welling up inside. Things weren’t totally lost, but this whole ordeal no longer held the gleam of adventure. What would her Gran say, to see her now? Probably a smattering of curses before yanking her by the ear and explaining, for the thousandth time, “Moyra, for someone so smart, you sure are stupid sometimes. You can know all the things in the world, but all those little facts mean nothing if you can’t put em to use. You have to seize on what people expect. Never show your hand and live for misdirection. You’re a half-orc, fool girl, so no one will expect you to do what you can do. So don’t let them know that you can do it!” Followed by a whap across the back of the head and some ungodly chore like scooping the newts’ eyes out. It was oddly comforting to think back on such moments. And there was truth in the memory. Moyra recalled the strange little goblin’s tale of the Despair and the pirates hushed whispers and enraptured faces. The promises of treasure at the expense of curses and dread spirits. Well, well, pirates, be careful what you wish for. With thoughts of lights dancing across the prow in the middle of the night and food spoiling strangely; Moyra fell asleep with a smile.

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Are you listening???
Antonio was desperate. To survive on this God forsaken prison called a ship, he needed to make himself more valuable. Displaying his magic abilities might help him but most likely would get him lashes if not attached to the bottom of the ship. While swabbing the deck he noticed the master gunner Rairis inspecting the lines of one of the Batista. Casually, Antonio mopped his way up beside her and looked for a way to open dialogue. “A powerful weapon this is yes?” The master gunner did not reply. “What is the max range you have hit a target with one of these?” This earned him a look of great displeasure. “Is there any way i may earn a place under your tutoring?” She turned quickly and stepped directly in front of Antonio Kitsuneas though she were about to devour his entire face. And just as suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes took on a completely different look and were tracking something far away, as a fox watching the plumpest hen in the yard. Antonio turned to notice the cabin girl caulky walking across the deck with her hair flowing in the wind behind her. she was quite lovely after all. Antonio returned his gaze back to the gunners mate and replied “I will get to work on it.”
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