• Graded • A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

Gorroc and Qyona kidnap Wendell and brand him a slave. Freya tries to fix it.

82nd of Vhalar 716

The Orm'del Sea is an ocean that separates Eastern and Western Idalos. It is said to have many horrors awaiting those that wish to travel through its waters.
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Freya DuCarinos
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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Common Rakahi
82nd Vhalar 716
Two days prior...

“I've seen his skills. He could be sold at a decent price to warrant the trouble...” Qyona muttered to Gorroc, seated on the stairs that separated part of the deck from the rest while cutting a wedge off an apple with a thin, delicate knife. Gorroc leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed and watching the ramp that connected the ship to the dock, waiting to see the familiar golden red eyes of a small, meek captain.
“You sarded him. Nothing impresses a woman more than a man who can sard them to oblivion. That is no skill.”
The raven haired woman paused as her blade sank into the skin of the apple. Her frame did not tense, nor did her jaw clench. However, blazing green eyes turned up while the knife was removed from the apple and pointed none too carefully at the giant's crotch, “It would be more skill than what a dickless man could accomplish, wouldn't you agree?”
His eyes snapped down to hers as Qyona smiled lightly, returning to eating the apple. “Pleasure is pleasure. Everyone enjoys it and he has shown skill in it. If we cannot sell him for a decent price, we can sell what he offers.”
“And what of the wench?” Gorroc deep voice spat out.
“Freya? She need not know till we're far from land... Besides, I'm sure she'll be interested in the profits.”
“She was born to a slaveless world. She cares not for what they offer, only that they're free.”
Qyona shrugged, biting into an apple wedge, “Then we make her see, or we kill her and take the slaves and the drugs. Less mouths to feed and more profit between the four of us.”
Gorroc said nothing as he continued to stare at the ramp, though his fists did clench ever so slightly.

By the stairs of the cabin leading down to the sleeping quarters, Haraji leaned a shoulder against the wooden wall, pushed a hand through his greasy locks, and sighed.


It'd been some time since night fell and while she waited, Qyona watched as the brown haired bartender flirted out his desires before taking coin and leading glassy eyed women to another room in the establishment. The woman felt sick while she waited and was even approached by an attractive Raven who she sent away with a scowl upon her lips. Qyona counted the bits it would take before Wendell would return to the bar looking haphazard and flushed, as if his body had been pushed through a marathon.
'I'm sure it has been...' She thought, taking a pull from the mead she'd ordered.
By the time the 4th break of the 80th trial came around, hardly anyone was left in the tavern. Qyona watched with steady eyes as Wendell moved slowly from the bar, pulled a jacket on, and head toward the back. She suspected him of leaving and so, left the Tavern to wander through a side alley, toward the back. On her way, there were plenty of empty bottles littering the ground, two of which she snagged before taking long stride to finally end up at the back of the building.
Gorroc was there, leaning against a building cloaked in shadows as his eyes met hers. She quirked a brow then turned her head when he nodded down the other side of the alley.
Wendell's form was walking slowly around the corner, his hands sliding into the pocket of his jacket to try to keep them warm from the chill. Qyona followed.
It didn't take any time to stalk her way up behind him. Unfortunately, the gravel from the stone underneath her boots was none too quiet and so he turned, expecting her there now.
“Hello Love.” She greeted just as a bottle came up and smashed against the side of his face, shattering upon contact. Qyona watched him fall, but he was still lucid. Gripping the second bottle, his blue eyes peered up.
“Sleep tight.” And then the second bottle was brought down over his head, promptly knocking him into unconsciousness. Blood was oozing from his cheek, smearing onto the ground as Gorroc lifted the unconscious man up.
The two quietly took him away...
Freya leaned against the railing of the ship, her arms crossed as she studied Caed. She'd confided in him about her dealings in Rharne and the particular situation they now faced. Advice was given, but none that really suited her interests or needs. She was stuck in a situation that offered no immediate solution and for that, her frustration was near boiling.
“I don't know what you want me to say. If the drugs are in Rhakros, we go to Rhakros.”
“Such shit an idea thad be.” Caed replied with a shake of his head.
“It's where the money is at. We've been contracted already so we'll have to do this.”
Caed cursed under his breath just as a yell sounded from below deck. The woman dismissed it, thinking some buffoon had stubbed his toe when the yell echoed up from the hull again. “By the fates, what are they doing now?” Freya cursed under her breath, heading for the stairs that would take her below deck, however, she was blocked by a familiar man.
“Freya,” Haraji greeted. “Care to fish with me today?”
“What's going on below deck? Are you okay? I thought you yelled...”
Haraji shook his head a bit too hard. “I'm fine. Shall we fish?”
She was about to answer when another yell came again and this time, several curse words. Freya's brow furrowed as she glared. “Step aside.”
“Freya, don't go down there.”
“Don't go..?” If Haraji said that, it meant something was terribly wrong. Freya shoved passed him and moved below, wandering through the tight space till she came to the end of the ship where they stored their food. When she entered, Freya could have stabbed the two.
There was Gorroc sitting on top of a man, his pelvis forcing the air from his chest while one burly hand fixed to his hair and held his head painfully back, the other gripped his jaw, trying to silence him. Qyona was sitting before Gorroc with a make shift tattoo gun.
“Shit.” Qyona muttered, sitting up.
“What... the fekking fates is he doing on my ship..?” Freya heaved. “And what the fekking fates are you doing to him on my sarding ship you rookid bastards...”
They'd been caught and slowly, Gorroc stood, letting the man breathe better while Qyona sat back further. It was then Freya saw that his hands were tied behind his back, his face was bruised and littered with cuts, and he looked as dirty as could be was a half assed Bayward sigil tattooed on his neck. A slave's tattoo... Oh, Freya was livid.
“Did you kidnap this man..?” She asked them quietly, hearing Haraji come in behind her.
“They did—“
“Yes, Freya,” Qyona spat, standing, “He's worth a pretty nel, if not for him, for his services and the fates know you will not earn us the nel you promised. So we found our own solution.”
“Services?” Freya looked again and bit her lip when she realized who it was they'd kidnapped. Wendell...
“You kidnapped this man to be a pleasure slave for your pockets?! You used my ship to get away with this foolish idea?! Are you both fekking nuts!” Her fists balled and she stepped forward. “I should throw you both over the rail for this.”
“Oh really, Freya? And what's stopping us from doing that to you? Hm?” Qyona approached the Biqaj slowly and it was then the air grew tense. Freya remained quiet, her red eyes staring angrily at the raven haired woman. “I could slit your throat in your sleep and none would be the wiser.”
“You foul born bitch—!”
Haraji stepped between the two, his own blade in hand. “Stop it, now. Freya, take the guy and leave.”
She scoffed, but Haraji was having none of it as he pushed her toward Wendell. By the fates, she wanted to argue, but she feared anything more would lead to a body or two on the floor and for once, Freya didn't want that. Moving quickly, she grasped Wendell's shirt and yanked him onto his feet before guiding him from the storage area to her own personal quarters. Once there, she shut the door, locked it, and barred it with a small chair, finally turning to acknowledge the bartender.
Freya studied his beaten face, then his neck, and finally his arms that were still tied. “Sorry, please... Hand.” Her voice whispered broken common, eyes shifting from deep red to a shimmering, brilliant blue and silver as she unfastened the rope from his wrists.
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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There was a blinding pain in the back of his head that made him feel as if he had been rolled down a hill unconscious in a wooden barrel. The needle against his neck must have been the most rude awakening Wendell had ever experienced, and the angry roar it tore from him saw that he receive a swift kick to the side of the head, the air crushed from his lungs as the weight of a full grown man settled on his back. He didn't know they language they were speaking, but pain was universal, anyone, even an animal could understand pain.

Blood, he could taste blood in his mouth, the sensation unnerving, made him wild-eyed and left him feeling disorientated. Where was he? Why was the ground moving, and was that the sea he heard? “Am I on a boat!?” Wendell growled. “What the fark are you doing doing to me!?”

A familiar woman stormed in and the scene seemed to grow even more tense. Weapons were drawn, more strange words were exchanged, and Wendell was pulled to his feet and ushered upstairs. He slammed into the wall on his way up, not having found his sealegs yet. Inside Freya’s room the door was barred and the man sunk down against the wall, hungry, sore, and tired. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the last thing he remembered, but it was all a bit of a blur. His shoes were missing, as was his belt and shirt, and the right side of his face, the left side of his neck, and the back of his head burned.

The bindings around his wrists were too tight, and his knuckles were rubbed raw from trying to fight his way out of the hold they had wrestled him into. Wendell spat out blood and ran his tongue over his teeth to check that he still had all of them. Freya asked for something, the man’s hands perhaps, and with knotted brow, he struggled to his feet and turned against the wall to fight the rocking sensation of the boat and the sick-to-his-stomach feeling it induced.

“Are you going to untie me? Can I have some water?” He muttered.
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

Common Rakahi
Freya shook her head, watching the man as he struggled to gain control of his conscience, his surroundings, and to understand why he was here as much as Freya was. As he leaned against the wall, Freya tucked her fingers into the rope and began to untie the knots. They were tight and his hands were red with abrasions all over them. When she let loose the rope, she realized dried blood was caked onto them and cursed. He had to have been down in the storage area for a couple days...
The Biqaj heard him ask for water, something she understood quiet well, “Yes, water I get. Sit, much rest you. I go get water. Sit.” She kept repeating, guiding the rather massive man from the wall to her bed. She had plenty of blankets but his blood was sure to stain a few of them.
Turning towards the door, she removed the chair and stepped outside, leaving it open.
“Caed!” Freya yelled, “Caed! I need you now! Caed!”
Thumps sounded on the stairs before the man was present, “What happened?”
“This.” Moving to allow him through, Caed approached Wendell with apprehension upon seeing his condition. “This is the first I've seen of him.”
“I the same, I'm not sure how long he's been aboard. We left Rharne two trials ago, but it could have been longer.” Freya answered, coming to stand beside him.
“I want to examine you, is this fine?” Caed pointed to Wendell's wrist. “This be infected if not cleaned, you want to die today?”
Upon Wendell's apprehensive nod, Caed turned to Freya, “Get me the good rum.”
She frowned, “The rum?”
“Yes woman, the rum. Get me the rum, honey, bandages, and a cloth rag.”
Without a word, Freya left the room, closing the door behind her as she hurried to get the requested things.
“Yah know where yah be? The open ocean welcomes you now.” Caed told Wendell, “Rharne was just a stop. I suppose those tha' marked yah did no' ask you tah come willingly. Best be adjustin' quick. It'd be Zi'da before yah see land again.”
It wasn't long before Freya slid back through the door and locked it shut, handing the items off to Caed with a bucket in hand, then she moved around the man to Wendell and helped him sit up, holding a cup of ale, “We have no water so this will have to suffice for now.”
Caed translated, “The wench be bad with Common. Drink, ale's all we carry now.”
Glaring gold eyes to the man, Caed took hold of Wendell's wrist while Freya watched him poor the alcohol over it, then clean the wounds, washing them with the cloth, then smoothing honey onto the cuts before wrapping them in bandages. He did this for both wrists, then his cheek.
“The mark be incomplete.” Caed nodded to Freya, “I say they be trying to off him tah Bayward.”
“Aye.”
“You need to fix it.”
Freya paused, staring at the wound on his neck, “I'll butcher his flesh.”
“It'd be savin' yah both. But tha's for you to decide.” Caed laid the stained cloth over the rim of the bucket and rose. “Well now, I think tha's good enough. I'll be steppin' away.”
Thanking him quietly, the woman saw him out before turning back to the man on the bed, grimacing. She remembered Wendell well enough to know it was bad news he was here, not only for her sake but his as well. There was no going back from the unfinished tattoo on his neck. He was marked a slave and would be treated as one now. Even if she tried to cut it from his flesh, it would scar him, if not kill him.
Pushing a hand through her brown locks, Freya approached and say on the edge of her bed, grasping his chin lightly so she could examine the mark better. There was no way she could fix this... He was property of Bayward now, a tattoo that looked like a snake of some kind. Her fingertips touched the flesh around the mark.
There was no way she could fix this... unless she declared her clan. Freya sighed. She could do it for the moment. Mark him under her protection so that he would not be sold or stolen again. Once they finally reached Ne'haer, she could release him, but did Rharne follow those same rules? She wasn't sure, but Freya knew that a slave, however free by laws, would always be a slave once marked.
“I must do.” Freya pointed to her own neck, “Not done, I must do or you sold to customer. Slave mark have you. Slave you are now.”
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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Frustrated, Wendell pushed the cup of ale away and watched it roll across the floor. “I'd rather drink my own piss,” he hissed to the man he knew would best understand him. It had become common knowledge working at a tavern for the last two years that alcohol would only dehydrate him further, and his head was already too sore to see his senses further dulled. “What language is this?” He had asked while Freya had been out of the room, and knew for certain once answered that the woman was of Biqaj heritage.

Caed wrapped the man’s wrists. The rum had caused his skin to burn, but a little pain now was better than losing a hand in a week, or worse, his life. “Will they turn the ship around, will they go back to Rharne?” His captors didn't seem to care to answer and once Caed had left the room, it was only Wendell and the girl once more.

Freya’s common, or lack of, was not doing her any favours, and having misinterpreted the woman, Wendell now believed that she sought to inflict further suffering by finishing the slave tattoo off on behalf of her comrades. His nostrils flared as he snapped all of the sudden, reaching out to take her around the neck and pin the woman to the bed beneath him. The muscles in his arms grew tense and the veins in his neck started to swell and weave likes snakes across the surface of his skin, causing his face to redden, but not as much as hers. All it would take, he knew, was the right amount of pressure applied long enough to trap the air from getting to or escaping her lungs, then her heart would give out and life would slip away silently.

Her pleading eyes were the last thing he saw before pain seared through the back of his skull, and the world went dark again.

Caed helped Freya from the bed and pulled her away from the lifeless giant on the floor. “Are you all right?” he asked her. “I'm sorry I left you alone with him!” he apologised, “that was reckless of me.” Caed put down the batten he had used to knock the sense out of Wendell, and the sound of it rattling against the floor saw the slave jolt awake.

Wendell blinked up at the pair of them and found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. The edge of his vision was dark and blotchy, spotted with strange floating patterns of light. Wendell lifted his arm to touch the back of his head and pulled wet fingers away to find that they were now painted with his own blood, nothing that would kill him, but it didn't half sting.

“We should take him down into the holding cell,” Caed advised, “a few trials for all of us to adjust won't hurt. Maybe after that he can make himself useful and help man the ship?” Caed pulled Wendell to his feet, only for the mixed-blood to fall forwards onto his knees as if all the strength had left his bones with the force of the impact that had knocked him momentarily unconscious. “Come on big fella, on your feet.” When his gentle coaxing didn't work, Caed tried to wrap his arms about the man’s chest and drag him.

Wendell’s eyes rolled back in his head as they fell closed, and a large, black wolf jumped at Caed from out of nowhere. Startled, the pirate jumped back, holding his arms out to protect Freya. “Freya,” he mouthed, “is there anything else on this ship I don't know about?”

The black wolf bared its teeth, burning blue eyes fixed on the two of them as a deep, rolling growl was emitted from its throat. Wherever the wolf stepped, a strange blue light lingered upon the floor for a few short seconds before the glow faded and the print with it. Hesitant, the wolf lowered its head and closed its teeth against the band of Wendell’s trousers and dragged him to the back of the room. With a low whimper, the wolf then disappeared, as if it had never been there, and Wendell stirred. He reached blindly for a side-table or groove in the wall, anything that might give him the strength to get to his feet, only to find that he was far too weak.
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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His frustration was peaking, Freya could tell. Though she made the mistake of trusting him too soon. She'd met the man before, he'd seemed so approachable, if a little intoxicated and a bit on the womanizer side. But this, this was far beyond anything she'd expected.
Her back was to the bed before Freya could think twice and on instinct, her nails clawed at his arms to try and weaken his hold for more air. She choked, her face becoming red while the gold of her eyes were quickly engulfed in radiant, toxic green and black. Then her body began to thrash, abdominal pushing up along with legs to kick him away but that did nothing, it seemed. The black in her eyes began to swallow the green as her vision tunnels and she did the last thing she could. Her nails reached up and raked across the skin of his neck, where the unfinished mark was to try and loosen his hold with pain.
Freya thought she'd succeeded when his massive body rolled off hers and onto the floor, but that was not the case. Gasping like a fish out of water, the biqaj woman clung to Caed, holding her throat as her lungs ballooned with oxygen. She coughed and bent forward, holding a hand to her mouth while her eyes jumped back to their brilliant green and silver.
“No—” She breathed, watching Caed as he stepped toward the unconscious man and tried to heave him up. “Don't take him anywhere, they'll finish the mark and then there won't be anything I can do.” Coughing again, she watched as Wendell returned to the floor. “They'll either finish the mark or brand him and then toss me over the rail to get the gold he's worth, Caed. He needs... He can't leave. They'll kill me to get their money's worth from him.”
But when Caed suddenly retreated from the man, Freya's attention went from her companion to the ferocious wolf that stood between them and Wendell.
“By the fates?” Freya too stepped back as the wolf growled, its eyes shimmering blue with fury upon her form. “... How..?”
And then just as mysteriously as it appeared, it disappeared, like a ghost of an animal. Freya pressed a hand to her mouth, having only experienced something like this when visiting the Northern Temple in Ne'haer. The Sev'ryn there had spirits the whispered to and sometimes Freya would glimpse the occasional odd animal or two, but she never thought the spirits followed them.
“He has an animal familiar?” It was not often Freya came across something like this and she wasn't sure whether to be captivated or down right fearful of Wendell. He was a beast that had a beast following him...
When he began to stir, the two pirates stuck near the door of the room, allowing him the space he needed until he was upright and lucid enough to focus on their words.
“You need to tell him I need to finish the mark. Gorroc and Qyona are going to try to sell him off to the highest bidder if he doesn't allow me to but a crest on him. It's the only way I can help until we're able to return to Rharne.”
Caed frowned, then turned, speaking slowly. “Yah best be watchin' them hands, this woman be tryina help you.” He pressed, anger in his voice. “Them folks aboard this ship took yah without consent from any parties, they be thinkin' with their pockets, yah know? This here is Freya. Tha brand on yah neck there not be finished yet and no, we be keeping course for Rhakros. Much time before yah plant them pretty feet back in Rharne so yah best let this woman here finish tha mark or those lovely folks tha took yah will be coming for both of yah, you know?”
The man paused to let the information sink in. “You're nah wanted here, but now that you're here, yah best be letting us help yah or to the fighting pits you'll go. Now do yah really want that?”
Freya waited, watching his expression before hissing at Caed. “You speak not the Common tongue, look at him! He's seething.”
“He tried tah kill yah and you're mad tha he won't let yah help him?”
Freya cursed loudly and ran her hands through her hair, turning toward the door. “He didn't ask for this anymore than I did. Curse those rookid bastards! Curse them and their lines, those wagos!”
“Cursing them be not helpin' yah nor him.” Caed responded.
Freya turned then and tried her best to speak. “I... like to... help you.” She turned to Caed and when he nodded, she continued. “You no ask here...” She sighed, frustrated. “Kill me, they... they will do. Sell you, they will do... If... mark— my mark not on you. If my mark on you... no sell for coin. Freedom later... Rharne later... Home yes, but... But much time before and to... project—“
“Protect” Caed corrected.
“—P-protect you and me... I must finish mark.”

She stood by the door, tension in the room as both were preparing for the man to assault them at and given moment.
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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The makeshift weapon on the floor in front of him might buy him some time, he thought, if only he could find the strength to get to his feet and wield it. Keeping his eyes open, breathing, staying focused, all of the simple things he used to be able to do without giving them any thought, felt like monumental tasks at the moment. The inky man with mitts the colour of pig’s skin took his turn to speak while Wendell sat, ruled by rage. He had a home, a woman, a job; his whole life was back in Rharne. They had plucked him from it, taking what they believed to be a rose from a garden of weeds, beaten and marked him, and now he was being told that the torture was not yet over.

Her mark, the words stuck with him, Wendell had never compared himself to an object, but that was exactly what he had become, something to be owned and kept, branded, traded, perhaps even sold. While the black man spoke, Wendell kept his eyes closed and let the man’s common soothe him. Being surrounded by strangers that didn't speak his language was fast becoming one of his most hated things. It wasn't until Freya spoke that he finally opened his eyes again, and looked at her as if she were no better that shit on her comrade’s boots.

“Sev’ll kana ke’u tabi,” he hissed, I’ll kill you first the words meant, and the look in his eye seemed to suggest that he was the kind of man who made good on his threats. “Finish your mark, scab,” it was something he and his friends had always called lowlives, thieves, pirates, and the likes. “I want water,” he insisted, hoping that if he was persistent they would provide or let him sit in the rain and collect his own. Wendell closed his eyes again, his head was throbbing and the pain he was in, though bearable, felt somewhat maddening. He would sit through the mark and hope it healed well, if it meant he got to keep his life for now and live to inflict pain and suffering on those who had taken him, it was a pain he could overcome.
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A Slave Aboard [Wendell]

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Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)


FREYA:
Rewards:

  • Story: +5
  • Collaboration: +5
  • Structure: +5

Knowledges:

  • Detection: Crewman's Odd Behavior is a Warning
  • Drawing: Finishing an Incomplete Tattoo
  • Language: Xanthean
  • Leadership: A "Paid" Crew is a Happy Crew
  • Leadership: Stand Your Ground but Don't Escalate
  • Leadership: Trouble Brewing
  • Medicine: Memorizing the List of First Aid Supplies
  • Medicine: Recognizing Wounds Several Trials Old
  • PC: Wendell: Has a Wolf Familiar
  • PC: Wendell: Kidnapping Victim
  • Surgery: On Hand to Help Treat Infected Wounds
  • Unarmed Combat: Targeting Tender Spots With Nails

Loot:

Nothing to speak of


Loss:

Hopefully not your ship to your treacherous crew


Injuries:

A very bruised throat


Fame:

No one knows about this outside of the crew
And everyone wants to keep it that way


Comments:

This was a very satisfying thread. However, as much as you obviously want your NPCs to be able to get some xp, they did so much of the action, that it took away from your own knowledges.

Grammar nazi alert!! I'm sure you meant "barricaded" where you had "barracked"
and "consciousness" where you had "conscience".
Other than that, no errors I can recall, so they couldn't have been of much consequence.

I'm going to be a stickler and say that Qyona, Gorroc and Caed had sufficient action to have this be a qualifying first thread for seasonal xp. But it seemed like you had to squeeze in Hiraji without much necessity.
PM me with any comments or concerns :)

___________________________________________________________

WENDELL:
Rewards:

  • Story: +5
  • Collaboration: +5
  • Structure: +5

Knowledges:

  • Appraisal: Situation: Brewing Mutiny
  • Appraisal: Situation: Shanghaied!
  • Detection: Caed and Freya's Accounts are Consistent
  • Discipline: Making the Best of a Bad Situation
  • Endurance: Trying to Maintain Orientation After 2 Blows to the Head
  • Etiquette: Communication Through a Translator
  • Forgery: A False Slave Mark
  • Language: Rakahi
  • Location: The Good Ship "Arbiter"
  • Medicine: Alcohol Compounds Dehydration
  • NPC: Caed: Arbiter's Ship's Surgeon
  • NPC: Caed: Common/Rakahi Translator
  • NPC: Gorroc: Arbiter Crewman
  • NPC: Gorroc: Brute and Bully
  • NPC: Haraji: Arbiter Crewman
  • NPC: Qyona: Arbiter Crewwoman
  • NPC: Qyona: Scheming Bitch
  • PC: Freya: Arbiter's Ship's Captain
  • PC: Freya: Losing Her Command?
  • Rakahi: Comparing Foreign Words With Explanation in Common
  • Tactics: Acceptance Now, Revenge Later
  • Unarmed Combat: Choke Hold

Loot:

Nothing to speak of


Loss:

Nothing to speak of but your life and freedom ;)


Injuries:

Numerous cuts, bruises and abrasions
probable concussion.
Any tendency toward seasickness will be greatly compounded.


Fame:

Your situation is a secret, so there's no fame to be had yet.


Comments:

There was only the wee bit of god-modding where you grabbed Freya by the throat without her really being offered the opportunity to post her attempt to dodge. Maybe you guys had this worked out in advance.
As said above, this was great thread, but so much of the action was taken by NPCs that it reduced knowledge opportunities. No real errors in structure that were probably anything more than an errant keystroke, a couple cases of opposing contexts. But hardly anything that took away from the story.
I can not wait for Wendell to kill Qyona and beat Gorroc half to death or more.
PM me with any comments or concerns :)
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