"You can thank that officer for the big boom. Well, if you can find him at the bottom of the sea, that is," Grommak explains to his superior. "That squid thought it fair n' just to lob a torch at one of the powder barrels. Something about denying the Cap'n another ship for the fleet," the orc remarks. "Did the other Dogs get anything of worth off the tub, at least?"
Blackwood's Dogs — IC
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Darcell smiles as he sees everyone make it back onto the Saint alive. He leans against the side of the ship and strums a few notes on his lute as he catches his breath.
"If we'd known that ship would be joining our fleet, we'd have made sure that officer didn't decide to take her down with himself. One disadvantage to fighting a navy consisting of zealots I guess," he says joining Grommak and Orson's conversation.
"Although if Blackwood is looking to build a fleet then why not take the ships from the Imardanians? One Imardanian warship is worth five of another navy's ships."
Besides a large fleet will need captains, and who better to recruit from than the Dogs? Captain Darcell has a nice ring to it, and I'd much rather captain an Imardanian ship than any of the others in these waters.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Liam looks over at Darcell, then sighs.
"'Cause the cap'in wants ta take one ship at a time. If'n ya wanna take on a patrol of tha Imardin Navy, ya'll need more'n two ships ta do it and hope to come away with a prize. 'Sides. Why bite tha hand tha feeds us? So far, we haven't had ta deal with the whole navy, takin' one of their ships is sure ta bring their wrath down awn us. Tha', and their merchants pay our wages after all. Tha naught willingly, right?"
He grins at that last bit.
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Darcell chuckles at Liam, as he continues to strum his lute.
"Maybe you're too drunk to remember, but those lot were member's of the Imardanian Navy," the Bard replies pointing to the slowly sinking ship, still ablaze. "I think the Captain has pissed off the navy plenty in his years. Hells, even the Saint is Imardanian."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Henri is a bit surprised that Isabelle managed to get the gun, but grins nevertheless.
At Orson's mention of a fleet, the Imardanian's eyes light up. Perhaps a ship of my own then... It'd be like being in the Navy again! But with less piety. At Grommak's explanation, Henri adds, "What'd you expect? Him to lay down his weapons and surrender? He was far too stubborn of a man to even do that."
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"You said he was after his sister, not pirate-hunting," Grommak retorts, citing their conversation earlier. "I didn't know the fucker. Didn't seem the type to die for a cause."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"Aye, plenty," says Orson, at the question of loot. "You can talk to Phil about your shares once you're rested up. What's this about a sister?" he asks, curiously.
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"The wench we saved from the last tub. Captain wanted something to do with her, you remember? Turns out, her own fucking brother was aboard that," the orc says, gesturing toward the sinking boat behind them. "Same one who tried to blow us to the afterlife."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Old Lefty is passing by at the mention of explosions, and chimes in, "The bastard showed me up! Can't top somethin' like that." As he continues on, John sits up and leans against a crate. "So the ship is gone. Good riddance. Thanks for hauling me out," he says with a cough and a grunt, giving the others in the vanguard a nod.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"You're bloody welcome," Grommak says with a grin. "It was a lot of work lugging your ass out of the flames, but worth it. Who else can I rely on to swing a chain and sack a dozen squids?"
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"I'm sure you just lack the resources, not the creative vision," Darcell replies to Old Lefty as he walks past.
"Good to still have you with us John," Darcell says turning his attention to Big John. "For a moment there I thought I'd have to start working on a song for your funeral."
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"Speaking of funerals," Henri responds to Darcell, "I don't suppose Daphne will be too thrilled to hear that her brother burnt himself to a crisp. Perhaps it's best we don't tell her yet."
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"So, Orson," Grommak starts, already feeling restless. "Did the First Mate give us our next orders? I'm curious how the Cap'n'll handle the loss of this ship he planned on takin'."
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"Probably," Darcell says agreeing with Henri. "Normally I'd be happy to lend a shoulder to cry on to a grieving girl, although being complicit in her brother's death may complicate things."
"My vote is to make port. My shares of our recent hauls are already starting to burn a hole in my pocket," Darcell says, tuning into Grommak and Orson's conversation.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
John nods to Darcell at his remark, grunting again as he repositions himself against the crate. "Not yet," Orson responds to the orc. "But given the situation I imagine a stop at the Wastrel's Wharf is in our near future," he continues, now more towards Darcell. "We may not have made our way to the lower decks, but the top deck gave us a hefty haul. Those Imardanian muskets will fetch a nice price, at least the ones we don't keep for ourselves," he says with a grin.
"Ha ha! If there are even any left," Baelgar says, having been walking by holding one of the guns in question. It is of impeccable craftsmanship, a quality both unique to and characteristic of the Imardanian Navy. "Imagine what we could do with all of these!" he continues, the devious joy showing through on his face. "I will stick to what I've got," John replies, having always shied away from firearms.
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"I'll sell a squid-gun before you catch me toting one around. Live and die by the blade, as they say," Grommak comments gruffly. "Damn shame we didn't get to make it down to the hold, though. Even the rations would'a been nice. Ah, well."
"Speaking of," the orc begins. Clapping Henri on the back, Grommak slides beside him. "I don't suppose the dame'll be too thrilled about you sportin' her brother's rifle, either. That is, if the thing is still worth much. Looked as charred as the burnt asshole who previously wielded it. What do you think?"
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"I wouldn't mind getting to use an Imardanian musket again," Henri says after Baelgar mentions the Dogs' use of them. "No one crafts one quite like they do."
As Grommak leans in, Henri responds, "It may still work fine, but it's certainly seen better days. Could always see about getting it fixed up in the Wharf. And then it could fetch me a good amount of coin or a certain woman's favor."
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"The Wharf'll have what you need. Always does," Grommak says with a wink before sliding away from the ex-navyman. "Now to wait for the Quartermaster to tell us what is whose and whose is what," the orc says. "And keep the fucking rum away from that man," he laughs, pointing at Liam. "I saw you take a dip on the way into the ship, eh? You should take lessons from me on how to ride the rigging."
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"Ah Wastrel's Wharf. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. I can't wait," Darcell laughs.
"I've spent time in royal courts all over Voreld, but that cesspool has a certain charm about it."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Landing gracefully on the Saint's deck, Isabelle tosses the still uncomfortably warm, slightly smoking gun she salvaged to Henri. "Hope it's worth it, pretty boy. That room got awful warm-like 'afore I could get out." She says, brushing the ash and soot off of her partially charred armor before seating herself on a crate. "And concurr'd on livin' and dyin' by the sword. I always did enjoy the feel of sticking a sea pig."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
As the group rests and discusses the recent events, the navigators of the crew maneuver the Saint forward. Once a safe distance away from the burning, sinking wreckage of the warship, the rendezvous with the merchant vessel currently being captained by Alador. Once close enough the hooks are tossed across and the two ships are drawn together, planks put into place.
The ships now together once more, Marian steps down from her perch upon the aftcastle and approaches the railing. She briefly glances at the huddled group, still resting, before turning her attention to the other ship. Alador is already standing near the opposing railing as she steps up. "Alright, who's hurt?" she barks before he has a chance to speak.
"A few of the men were hit, but nothing fatal. I said I'd bring them back in one piece, after all," he says.
"Hmph, we'll see," Marian responds coldly. "Bring the injured back over here, M. Villiers will make sure they are fit for sailing." Turning back to the rest of the crew, she picks some of the men at random to replace the ones being escorted to the surgeon's quarters, sending them across the plank to the merchant vessel.
"You're to trail us closely," she says, turning back to Alador. "We make for the Wastrel's Wharf, don't get lost," she says, turning to return to her post.
Alador rolls his eyes and walks away, back to his own post, instructing the men under his command to disconnect the ships. They and the others on the Saint work together to liberate the ships from one another and they begin to maneuver back apart.
Orson chuckles a bit once Marian is out of earshot. "She can never just enjoy a success for a moment before getting back to business. I will never understand that woman," he says, more to himself than any of the gathered crewmen. Turning towards the vanguard, he says, "You should go see Phil once you're done resting. You guys got a nice cut coming."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Liam yawns as he gets up, starting to make his way towards where he thinks Phil might be.
"Damned roight we'd bettah get a good cut lad. Naught auften I get singed like tat. Least, naught since I helped Lefty test his latest powdah concauction."
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"Excellent," Darcell says at the mention of a large cut. "I know a couple of Orcs in Wastrel's Wharf who have just been begging me to take their money. The buy in for their card game is rather high, but that shouldn't be a problem now," he adds, following after Liam to look for Phil.
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"Not this orc," Grommak promises his musician friend. "Careful with your cards around me or you'll find yourself losing your coin faster than you though possible," the orc teases as he steps along with Liam.
"Our cut'll be enough. Phil doesn't hang us out to dry, especially when we did the lion's share of the fightin'."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"We'll have to put that to the test someday," Darcell replies to Grommak with a smirk.
"But with stakes as high as these guys play, I don't exactly plan on playing fair."
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"Look at it this way," Henri says, stepping towards Darcell. "You'll get a pretty lady either way. You'll either be the high-roller with a pocket full of coin, or the man who's down on his luck after a game with those lot."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"The ladies of the Wharf can sod off," Grommak says with a haughty wave. "This orc's got some blade shopping to do. Got some bloodstains on my saber that won't come off," he faux-whines.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Big John grunts once more as he stands, holding his side for a moment as he feels a twinge of pain shoot along it. He follows the rest of the vanguard down into the ship, past both gundecks, then the berth deck - where the bulk of the crew's quarters are. Below that they reach the orlop deck, the spot where most of the ship's spare ropes and wood are. It is rarely frequented by the party, who have few duties that involve repairs and maintenance, instead focusing on combat and basic navigation.
Towards the middle of the deck is Phil, who is casually walking between various piles of items looted from the navy ship while the group fought below deck. It is a surprisingly large haul given the short span of time the Dogs had to search the upper deck, but no one is complaining.
"Ah, my favorite men and woman," Phil says with a smile, his pipe held in place in his mouth by his teeth. He grabs the pipe and points towards the piles of loot, making a sweeping motion with the stem. "Lots of stuff to go around. Good thing too, after that last one. Just a girl? And only for the Captain, at that? I tell ya, crew weren't happy about that. All's well now, though."
Phil lets out a laugh and places the pipe back into his mouth. He moves next to a pile of mostly guns and swords, crossing his arms and tapping it with his foot. "This stuff's what I've set aside for you Vanguard. Figure I can fence the lot for a good chunk of coin, enough for, say, 6,000 apiece. Let me know if you want it all in gold or if you want to keep any of the weapons, so I can mark the ledger," he says, more serious than before.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"Alright, John?" Grommak asks as he notices the wince from the big man.
Below deck, the orc steps around the stacks of weapons as the quartermaster talks, frowning while inspecting the haul. "No boomsticks for me, you can fence that junk. None of these gaudy necklaces, either," he says, gingerly sorting through, until he finds something glinting at him. "Ah, this love caught my eye earlier. What do you think, Phil? Can I take it?" Grommak asks, holding up the saber taken from the captain. "Feel free to fence whatever else is my share and give me the coin. This is more than enough for my purposes."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"Yes, yes, of course," Phil says, walking to his ledger seated on a nearby barrel. He hastily scribbles a few things in it, before stepping back to the man with a sack of coins. "Should come out to your 6000, minus the 2750 I figure I'd have gotten for that, so 3250 for you to have a grand ol' time, eh?" The man chuckles again as the orc palms the coins.
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"Look at the edge on this piece of work," Grommak exclaims after having examined it further. "Henri, what does this bit say?" he asks, handing it off to his counterpart, but not before giving it a swing to test the balanced weight.
Idly putting his hands at his hips while the navyman reads the engraving, the orc stumbles across the triple-barrel pistol he had pocketed earlier. "Hey, Phil... check this out. Forgot I grabbed this away when we caught the Ice Man back some time. This thing work at all?" he asks, giving the quartermaster the strange weapon.
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Phil looks it over for a moment, testing the locks and trigger. "Sure looks like it does. Same rules as the rest, someone wants to keep it just let me know," he says as he adds it to the heap of weapons.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Henri admires the ornate blade that Grommak has claimed for his own for a moment before inspecting the engraving. With a light chuckle, he says, "Well, this is definitely a Navy blade, I can tell you that much! 'Protector of the weak. Defender of the faith. May this sword serve the Goddess always, in the hands of the righteous.' A bit pious if you ask me, but that's the Navy."
The disgraced aristocrat's eyes light up as Grommak reveals the intricate pistol he'd swiped from the merchant ship. Eager to have it in his holster, Henri adds, "I'll be taking that pistol, if I may. The rest, I've no need for. Gold will do."
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"Figured you'd go for the triple-barrel. Never seen a one of those, eh? Make sure you don't jam it." Grommak looks back down at the ornate blade as Henri hands it back, the inscription translated. "Well, maybe some craftsman will file that off and put something more relevant there. Like 'This was once a squid's sword. Once,'" Grommak half-jests. "'Sides, I don't need none of that Elysian shit on my blades, no offense. I've got my own spirits watching my path."
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"Oh, I've seen one, though never used one. This snobby kid back at the Naval Academy had one. He liked to brag about how his daddy bought it for him. Then he jammed it and about blew his hand off," Henri responds to his orcish friend, recounting his days of youth. "I won't suffer the same fate," he adds with a confident smirk.
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As Henri and Grommak discuss the Captain's sabre and the triple shot pistol, Darcell examines the other items.
"I'll just take the coin," he says after a moment, tossing an amulet of the goddess back on the pile.
"Actually I'll take four of the muskets," he says, changing his mind after a moment. "Firearms of that quality are still something of a rarity. They're bound to be worth a fair bit to some of the more nefarious elements around the Wharf. The Backwater Company maybe," he says picking one of the muskets up.
"Besides, who could resist my charm?"
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
Liam will wave his hands at the gear and take the coin.
"Fancy as the weapons an trinkets be, Aye'll be takin' the coin an goin' thank ya."
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"Very well, here," Phil says, counting out the coin for each person and handing it out in satchels. He records everything in his log same as before, making sure everything is accounted for. He then turns and looks expectantly towards Isabelle. "Now what about you, lass? You've been quiet."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"Sorry, just finishing up here." Isabelle quips, carefully adjusting the strip of cloth now covering the runes carved into her bracer, before dropping a hand to the battle scarred handle strapped to her waist. "I'll take the coin as well. I've already got a trusted blade."
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
"Right then, here you are," Phil says, making his final tallies in his ledger before handing over Isabelle's bag of coin. "Now that that's settled, I suggest you get back to work," he says half-heartedly. It is a phrase he is known for saying often, yet rarely meaning.
The group spends the rest of the day going about their usual business, though their daily duties are lessened in reward for a job well done. As the day turns to night the berth deck is full of merriment, the men not on night duty drinking in celebration of a good haul and the glory that comes with sinking a Navy vessel - a feat few navies can boast, let alone pirates.
Night turns to day and back again, then back to day once more. Little happens in the interim, save for a few strong waves and some light showers. Around midday two days after the battle the Saint finds itself approaching the bay that is Wastrel's Wharf. In another hour the ship is anchored and the crew begins its slow disembarkation, first Phil with his goods to peddle, followed by the officers, then the Vanguard and others to go after them. Some are required to stay on the ship, with rotations on who is allowed to be on shore and who must make sure the Saint is safe.
The merchant vessel is anchored near the Saint, and Crooked Carver brings Sam and Bargetze with him to begin repairing and refitting it for use as a pirate vessel. Some of the other crew lament being forced to aid in this, eager to get ashore and relax.
Once on shore the group is greeted by the Wharf's usual odor and ruckus. Men on the docks offload another ship, while other nearby men argue over the price of goods. A brawl is being had in the streets further up, with a gathering of men and women nearby taking bets on the victor. Stray cats and dogs, and a few more exotic beasts, rush through the streets, some chasing after the others, some tormenting the denizens of the town.
The Ice Man steps up behind the group, gazing at the goings-on all around. "Ah, the smelly shithole. Always nice to be back," he says, stepping past and walking a bit more forward, before turning back. "I'll be at the Mug o' Mead if anyone needs me. I doubt they will, new recruit and all," he says with a grin, as he turns back and walks further into town.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
The smells of brine and sailor sweat give way to the familiar atmosphere of the Wharf, and Grommak feels a bit of relief wash over him. Wasn't sure we'd make it through that hell alive. Time to relax a bit and spend some coin, the orc thinks. Or make some.
Grommak gives a passing stray dog a friendly scruff under the neck before shooing it away. "No food for you, little guy. Go on," he says, pointing toward some stalls, but he can't get it to leave him. Whatever.
"Hey, Ice! Wait up," the swashbuckler calls out to the sorcerer, catching up and walking in pace with him. "Could do with something strong myself. Been a while since we've had anything good on board, other than that shit that Liam lugs around. Drinks on me, eh?"
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With the odor of a thousand pirates, ruffians, and scoundrels greeting him, Henri grimaces as they reach shore. I never will quite get used to that. With a confident smirk, he shrugs and says, "What it lacks in charm, it makes up for in smells."
Waving his farewells to Grommak and the Ice Man, he says, "You two go on ahead. I've got a certain dead man's rifle to see about fixing," patting the gun husk strapped to his back. With his coinpurse full of gold and his mission known, Henri sets off into the bustling city to find a shop to repair the rifle, scoffing at a group of harlots along the way.
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"Never been. Only heard a tale or two about a crewman of ours getting thrown out for brawlin'," Grommak explains as they walk. A man along one of the main streets bumps shoulders with Grommak. Giving him a mean look, the orc quickly checks his pockets and carries on. Pigfucker.
He turns to his strange companion. "Don't think we're gonna get mugged anytime soon in this wretched slum. With your spellcraft and my blades, the thugs'd be fools to try somethin'."
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Henri grumbles to himself as he shuffles down the filthy streets of the Wharf, not remembering any gunsmiths. Rather than asking the thieving locals, he decides to go to the next best place: Blondel's Forge. With the scum in this town, I'd rather see a fellow countryman. Careful to keep his eyes on his surroundings and his hand on his holster, the ex-Navyman makes his way to the smithy.
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In port, Darcell grabs one of his muskets and slings it over his shoulder. Off the Saint, he heads off along the wharf trying to think where the best potential buyers would be. Members of the underworld are probably a better bet than a merchant. A merchant will want a bigger discount so he can sell it for more of a profit. Some Backwater Company Orcs would be better, or maybe even another pirate crew, he thinks as he looks around the wharf.
He winks at a group of harlots as he passes them.
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Re: Blackwood's Dogs IC
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- Fialova
- Magical Liopleurodon
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