IC: YARR!, Be ye scurvy enough...? Options

[RangerJoe]

>>>Ahoy me hearties. We're all set to sail. The OOC thread is operational. Please don't forget to post character descriptions there, or incorporate them into your first post here. With no further ado:

The Azores are a tropical paradise for Portugal’s corporate elite (which is to say Portugal’s elite full-stop these days, since the who nation incorporated) and smuggler’s paradise for those in the know. Being of temperate climate, with beautiful scenery and abundant food, the quiet island of Faial has become a popular spot for shadow crews to go ashore, enjoy some time off the seas, and recuperate before the next voyage. Some of you have been here longer than others, but all are feeling an itching to get out to sea once more. It just so happens that fate has smiled on you. Word has been put out that a smuggler captain, one Captain Slosh by name, is looking for a small crew. Through the grapevine on the island (it’s a small place, and word travels fast for those with their ears to the ground) you’ve heard that he’ll be at the Pit Stop bar just before sunset. Meets here in the Azores sure beat meets in Seattle!

Any plans for before the meet?

[Ray Becker]

Ralph was one of the only bars upon the island when he heard of Captain Slosh and him seeking a crew. Quickly downing the remainder of his drink he slipped of the high stool and landed lightly but his peg leg still made a clicking noise.

After digging around for awhile he quickly determined that the meet for any one wishing to apply for the postion of crew were to be at the Pit Stop Bar around sunset.

Ralp decided that as he had a couple of hours before the meet time that he had a choice of two things, he could either ask about and learn all he can about this Captain Slosh or he could go to the Pit Stop bar now and drink till the time of the meet.

Coming to a descion Ralph head out of the bar he was in and started walking. He finally stopped out side of a door and then walked inside, looking around he liked what he saw the Pit Stop bar was a great place. Walking up too the bar he pulled himself up into one of the high stools and orderd an ale, he then proceaded to drink while keeping an eye on the door.

[FXcalibur]

How did I end up in the Azores?

"You forgot already?" Pete slammed the mug of root beer onto the bartop and slid it over. "That beer sure does bleed out your brain." The barkeeper smiled, and his aged face cracked with it.

Downed the mug in one go.

"You haven't managed to convince management to hire you?" He inquires with a comedic, quizzical look on his face. Old Pete's features were hard, yet soft - many scars, wrinkles and cracks, but they would come to life when he talked or moved his face, almost as a cartoon character. If he'd chug a pipe, I'd love to call him popeye.

"No, your boss says he doesn't like me. Says the coat spooks people."
"You should remove some of those medals and badges and shit, then."
"It's sewed into the coat, Pete."
"Well, wear something else then."

I raised an eyebrow. Pete chuckled.

"Of course, of course. I forgot lass, about ye true nature." the adorable sunavabitch winked at me. Before I could laugh, he passed a note forward for an address of a bar somewhere on the Azores.

"Word is that somebody there's hiring a crew for a ship. Could be rumour, could be something else, but hey, couldn't hurt. If I remember right, you're flat stinking broke, my dear girl, so why not?"

"Couldn't hurt." I smiled and pocketed the slip of paper. "Thanks. See you again." I leaned over the bar top and gave Pete a sloppy peck on the cheek. He grinned back. "I'll charge it to credit."

The seas were very welcoming today and the beach was nice. I wanted to go take a swim, but then again, I always want to. Fighting the urge to do so, I slipped into a nearby public toilet, cracked open my travelling case and pulled out my last set of clean clothes, wearing them under my white naval overcoat. I fastened my knife in its' holster, and then went off to this bar Pete had pointed me to.

[Ray Becker]

Ralph felt time creeping on he downed the last of his ale and beckoned the barkeep over.

"What's your poison?"

"Captain Slosh, is he hear yet? If he isn't point him out when he comes in! Oh and another Ale"

He said gruffly as he passed over a few creds.

[Lindt]

Rodger reels in. Its a perpetual state being 3 sheets to the wind, a state of mind if you were to ask. At once a very heavy northeastern UCAS accent is apparent in the short over tanned dwarf.
"Baa keep, a wishkey shour."
He slumps to a convenient table, looking for someone meeting the description of a Capt. Slosh. While the Pit Stop isn't a high class place, Rodger dosent fit in well at all. A dark green head of hair that has grown into dreadlocks, and a chromed right forearm do tend to make one stick out in most circumstances.

[RangerJoe]

Each of you is minding your poison (or salve) or choice, when a fairly tall human, with long hair and a good deal of stubble enters the bar. He is wearing faded gray shorts and an open, and much abused white shirt. This tropical look is not too discordant with his natty dreds and dark sun-scarred skin. He orders a tall glass of the sweet and strong wine of the islands and takes a seat at a table well away from the door. From within a battered rucksack, he pulls out what appears to be a very old and worn magazine which looks like its been through more hurricanes than you have.

You immediately reckon the new arrival to be Captain Slosh because he’s the only human or meta here you haven’t seen before lurking around the Pit Stop before.

[RangerJoe]

The barkeep is a skinny islander with deep-set eyes and an old-fashioned prosthetic arm. He sends the Pit Stop's one waitress off with the drink for Slosh, before returning with a foaming mug for Ralph. "That man who just come in with the long dreds-- he's the cap' you're lookin' for. He's a good enough feller, so I don't want you givin' him no trouble, ye hear?"

[Ray Becker]

Ralph looks over at the man the barkeep had just labled as Slosh, smiled hopped off, of his stool retrived his ale and started over towards him. He halted when he heard the barkeep call out to him.

"I said no trouble, ye hear me this time?"

"Aye"

Clumping his way over the floor Ralph closed the distance between himself and Slosh. Arriving at the table Slosh occupied he slammed his mug of ale down and demanded.

"Ye Slosh? I hear ye be seeking a crew!"

As he took the liberty of claiming one of the empty seats for himself. He took a quick gulp of his ale and smiled.

[FXcalibur]

"Hey there, barkeep. Can you point me to a captain Slosh?"

He nodded to a dredlocked fellow that just came into the bar.

"That's him."

I thanked the barkeep and walked over.

"Hello there. Are you captain Slosh? I heard you're looking for crew."

[Lindt]

Rodger watches the stranger sit down and quickly gather a crowd. He clambers up and aims for the one in the middle.
"Yaa musht be Slosh, Captain with no crew. Im aiming ta fix dat. Sheems sho are dey too."

[RangerJoe]

“Ahoy, mateys,” Slosh calls out as you approach his table. He folds the magazine flat on the weathered wood planks. “Could I be so lucky as to assume you’ve heard about my call for crew…or be this about Hormuz?” He raises a single eyebrow.

You can tell that Slosh is sizing up the crew: two dwarves and a lass in a greatcoat. Not the most obviously seaworthy crew he’s ever seen, but not least either (“Never again,” Slosh thought, “will I ever accept minotaurs as crew, even if I am doing the Athens-Istanbul art run. Ever.”)

Seeing no one waving a gun at him, Slosh relaxes a bit. “So ye are here about the crew. Well, then we should be talkin’ cargo, destination, wages, and duties. Time is of the essence, though, as we’ve got,” Slosh consults a chronograph on his wrist, “a little more than six hours before the tide’s right to sail.”

Seen up close, Slosh looks slightly less disheveled than he does from a distance. His eyes are bright, clear, and dark brown. He seems to have a tattoo on the inside of his forearm of an anchor and rope, which is fairly typical (if somewhat tacky) for nautical types. When he speaks you can see that he has several gold teeth—so at least he’s a fairly well to do smuggler. Some of his dreds are strung at the ends with complicated looking glass beads, which are lovely, if a little bit less than macho.

“As ye, know. I’m captain Slosh and my ship’s the Albacore. I’ve only got three spare berths, so I’m keen to know that I’ve no overlap in m’crew. Also, Albacore’s a sailer, so if you’ve pressing engagements anywhere, I’d find a faster ship to sail aboard. That being said, if ye can help with the rigging, then we can make some extra time, if ye follow me.”

[FXcalibur]

Slosh looked like a nice guy. I had almost expected him to appear all macho with a pipe between his teeth, but then again I only have two images that appear in my mind when someone mentions sailors and captains after all. I took a seat, still not too comfortable with the seats in the bar, which felt far harder than Pete's little refreshment stand.

Ow! Ou- darn it, who left that nail head in the chair like that? Goddamn...ow...

"I'm Carol, nice to meet you Captain, matey. I'm a great swimmer, um... I can do deep diving too, without regular wetsuits and gear too..."

I racked my brains for points to sell myself on.

"Okay, I'm pretty good with a dagger in and out of the water, and I shoot pretty well with a speargun too..."

Should I tell him about my true nature? It wouldn't be nice if he burst out laughing at me, or decided to knock me out and sell me to some whack research facility, but I guess he's got to know. Here goes nothing.

"I'm a shifter too, which is how I can dive far without needing specialized equipment."

I decided to hold out my right hand and pull back the ballistic sleeve of the naval overcoat. Holy mother of the sea, that thing can get so hot and stuffy sometimes. I relaxed my muscles slightly and willed the transformation. My hand started to distort and shape to something like the texture of a flipper. I stopped at that, not wanting to make a show here and rip my favourite coat in the process.

My hand reverted to it's previous distinct humanoid form.

"I'd love to live on a small ship. I could live very well on the sea as well as take a swim whenever I wanted, and I think I could be an asset to the crew, if you'll have me. The last thing I want is to sign up on a restrictive heavy ship."

[Ray Becker]

Ralph had been looking the others over a fellow dwarf well that gotta be good but that female could be trouble he barley made any effort at all to listen to Slosh as all he wanted was to be on the open sea again.

Then with Carol revealing herself to be a shifter a sea shifter at that, well Clump had met a few Shifters most were arrogant and violent his kind of people.

"I can fight, steer, navigate and I'm a fair medic. Plus I can also do some diving with these things."

He flared his cyber gills as he pointed to them and then took another long draught from his ale.

"Clump be what most call me."

He said as he idly scratched his leg just above his peg leg he smiled briefly as he continued to drink his ale.

[Lindt]

Rodger eyes the shifter during the little show. He seems most enraptured.
"Be glad to help wish da rigging, I know my way around a shailer."
Rodger flashes a tooth grin. "Rodger Reed, shom call me Iron. I shail, shwim, and shoot pretty good. Can handle demolishishionsh if Ah need to. And unlike dish one, I bring my own diving gear."
Iron sits down, "Sho whash ya offering?"

[ Spoiler ]

Etiquette to improve his pay 02 07

[RangerJoe]

To Carol, Slosh replies, “A shifter, eh? That explains a thing or two.” After a brief, considering pause, he continues, “I consider myself tolerant of all the denizens of the sea king’s realm. If ye truly can mind yourself, and it don’t bother the rest of the crew, I’d welcome ye aboard, rather’n having a problem with your talents.”

Slosh takes a good long look at Clump’s cybergills. “I haven’t seen a set’a those in quite some time! Looks like we got not one, but two, fishes out of water on the crew, mindin’, of course, the fact that you’re both mammals—no offense intended to either.”

Slosh’s eyes light up when Iron mentions demolitions, and a slight smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad you’re all up for a fight. Most times, the Albacore tries to stay out of the way of trouble—under the radar and above the sonar if we can-- but these days there’s so many new pirate bands and posers that you can’t help but bump in t’somebody out on the main.”

“Getting’ to business, we’re haulin’ a load a these towards the Carib—New Orleans in particular.” Slosh pulls a coconut out of the rucksack which has been lying by his side. "Recouping costs for provisioning the Albacore and any damage, I'm lookin' to split profits four ways. Seem fair?"

[Ray Becker]

Ralph blinked as Roger spoke as he sorted through the thick accent to pick out the words and meaning. He smiled at Slosh's good natured comments and then scowled at what they were to be transporting.

Coconuts? Coconuts! They were to transport coconuts to new Orleans they were being hired to transport fruit. Gee and to think ah used to ambush pleasure yachts and smuggle high quality gear.

"If ah get killed ova a bunch of coconuts arm likely to be a mite miffed"

He said folding his arms as he glared at his now empty mug.

"But a job ah job and a fair split ain't easy to come buy, ye can count me in Slosh"
"

[FXcalibur]

That was one heck of a load off my chest. For a minute there, I was afraid the captain of the others staring at me would do...well, something nasty. But I guess they're okay after all. It's nice to meet understanding people for a change. Most of them look like they could take a deep dive into the blue, so looks like I won't be alone down there.

My eyes practically lit up when Slosh said I could come on. The other two didn't seem half bad at all, too. This was going to be great! Finally a life on the seas.

But coconuts?

"I never knew the world had a high demand for fruits." I admittedly said half-seriously. "Or are we smugglin' something in them?"

[RangerJoe]

“Aha!” Slosh laughs, “a clever lass.” He reaches again into his rucksack and pulls out a knife sheathed in an old and well-beaten leather sheath. Setting the sheath on the table, he begins sawing at the coconut’s husky rind. “What we’ve got here is the old double blind. The Albacore’s compartments are filled right now with mineral gravel pulled from the volcanic peaks here. It’s good material for making telemsa, fetishes, magic goo-gaws and such. There’s good money to be had for it in N’Orleans, but not enough to make the voyage profitable. Coconuts themselves ain’t in high demand in the crescent city either, but ye ever see coconut milk like this before?” Finishing sawing, Slosh overturns the coconut, spilling a thin trickle of quicksilver onto the table. The mercury dances and skitters on the well-polished tabletop, forming beads, which, as if by magic, begin to re-coalesce into larger clumps. “Naturally refined radicals of mercury. Can ye believe it? I know a miner and alchemist, lives in a shack up near the volcanic peaks. He can’t believe it himself.” Slosh lowers his voice. “We’ve got 200 coconuts loaded up in the food lockers—don’t worry, the quicksilver goes in through a syringe—it shouldn’t leak out and poison us. There be half a kilo in each. You can do the math to know that even at 50% profits after purchasing and overhead, we’ll still make out like bandits.”

“So,” Slosh leans back, scraping the quicksilver into a small vial he pulls from his shirt pocket, a great big grin on his face, “We sail just after midnight. Have ye any questions? If not, ye should finish up any business in town, and follow the main road out to the east. About three kilometers down the way, you’ll find a small fishing village—a few shacks, really. There’s one dock. The Albacore’ll be there, and I’ll be waiting.”

[FXcalibur]

Wow. I made it on the crew! I made it! Gee...these guys are great. Real great...sniff...

I spent the rest of the day diving from a secluded grotto in the island, not far from the village where Slosh wanted us to go later. I tried my best to catch some fish for food, but I wasn't up to snuff much anymore. I did pass by a fishing boat, where they made all sorts of commotion about seeing a seal here. Well, I did get some fish from them, so they're all right, I guess.

I dissapeared into the waves and shifted form before coming back up on land, found my clothes and toweled myself off. All in all a great day. Night was falling, but I couldn't wait to get on the boat - the money didn't really interest me, it was the thrill of finally being on the sea, and perhaps fitting in with others.

I tossed on my naval coat and walked back to the village's docks, looking for the cap'n.

[Ray Becker]

Well it seemed that they should turn a tidy profit from all this. Ralph Smiled as this went through his head as he made his way down towards the docks. Quickly he found where he'd morred his Suzuki Watersport and set out down the coast towards the the village SLosh had spoken about.

He moved up and down the piers at the village until he found the Albacore, he tied his water Scooter up next to it and moved ashore setteling down where he could wacth all arriavals at the boat.

[Lindt]

"Ya shaid ya needsh shomeone to help wish da shailsh (sails), Ill give ya a hand, shoon ash I finish, 'an get ma' kit."

Rodger gulps down the last of the Wiskey Sour and drops some hard coin on the bar, tipping fairly well, mistaking a ¥10 for a ¥5. He hops a cab to the cheap "We rent by the hour" motel he had a room at, packs his 2 trunks, 2 bags, and 1 backpack, and hops another taxi to the docks.

[RangerJoe]

You follow Slosh’s directions to a small village on a cape, located on the eastern end of Faial. The village is really nothing more than a few rusted out trailers, a petrol station which has seen better days, and a rickety old pier which juts out into the smooth black water. There is no moon, and you can hear only faint waves lapping on the nearby shore. A single electric light-bulb is held aloft by a metal post at the front of the pier. In the dim glow, you can see a ship moored a short ways out. The Albacore!

As you approach the vessel, you can hear a faint splashing. In the dim light, you can see a figure climbing out of the water using one of the ladders at the back of the pontoon. He is wearing a diving mask, but no snorkel, and is wearing only a wetsuit. “Ahoy mateys!” You recognize the voice. It’s Captain Slosh’s. He must have been under the boat, perhaps making repairs. “Welcome aboard me hearties! We’ll sail with the tide, which should be up high enough to keep us clear of those reefs within an hour. Make yourselves at home. The aft starboard cabin’s mine, but the other three are up for grabs. Bear in mind that the fore cabins have beds that are less than comfortable. Our “cargo” be stored underneath. No jumping on the beds unless ye want a back full of gravel!”

[Ray Becker]

Ralph made his way abord the boat and started to look around, as he peered into the forward starboard cabin and saw a improvised med bay.

Well, well looks like this place was made for me, bit crammped but it'll do.

"This be ma room!"

Going back to his Suzuki Watersport he retrived what equipment he belived that he needed.


These he quickly lugged down to his claimed berth before he looked at his Suzuki Watersport.

"Anywhere a could store this?"

[ Spoiler ]

Stuff stored in room/on Ralphs person


Pistol Ammo Pouch
Small Equipment Pouch
Small Military Rucksack
Wet Suit
Bio-Monitor
Antidote Patch [6]
Stimulant Patch [6]
Tranq Patch [6]
Trauma Patch
Medkit Rating 8
Earplug Cell Phone
Pager
Personal Comm Unit Rating [4]
Vibro Knife(EDG) DwMod
[2]Colt Manhunter (HPist) DwMod Laser Sight
+ [6]16-Rnd Clip (EX Explosive)
+ [6]16-Rnd Clip (Regular)
[2]Spear Gun (SpGn)
Net Gun (Normal)


Remaining gear, somehow stored on the suzuki watersport


Standard Credstick Rating [3]
Survival Kit
Tent
Sleeping Bag
[10]Field Rations (Self Heating)
[2]Camoflauge Netting (per 10m^2)

This post has been edited by Ray Becker: Aug 9 2004, 08:12 PM

[Lindt]

Iron loads his gear into the port fore bunk room, noticing the rather hard bed. Not that it bothers him too much, sleeping on the deck is a great way to live, providing its not foul weather. Irons prevoius eneberation has subsided, leaving the thick South Boston accent.
"Nice ship ya got here, looks like a real fit lot. Ill be plenty happy to be rigging sails when ya need me to. Do have a question that effects seemingly the lot of us. Last boat I was on had a policy about weponry, chief didnt want the crew arrmed. Was wondering what yaa guidelines on that are?"

[ Spoiler ]

Im packing the full boat from my eq list. Only real space considerations would be the diving gear.

Spear Gun
Ceska Scorpion
Ares MP LMG
+Gyro Mount Std.
+Gas Vent 4
FN HAR
+Fore Grip or Bayonet
+Mag 3 scope
+Shock Pads
ArmTech MGL-6
Quick Draw Holster (conc.)
2 Silencers
Suppresser

Grapple Gun
+100 Meters line
Gunsmith Kit (Pistol)
Vehicle Kit
General Kit

Flash Pack
Secure Ultra Vest
FFBA
Cutlass

Diving Eq:
+Wet Suit
+Fins
+Face Mask
+Comp Belt
+Regulator
+SUCBA Tank (2)
+Dual Tank Assembly

Ammo:
(20) Concussion Grenades
(10) Off HE Grenades
(10) Smoke Grenades
(10) White Phosphorus Grenades
(5) Incendiary Grenades
(5) Spear Gun Spears
(200) Reg Rds
(100) Ex Rounds (66 in belt for LMG)
(40) Tracer Rounds (33 in belt for LMG)
(100) EX Ex Rds

As far as normal carrying stuff?
Leather Pants
Pirate Pistol
Kinda makes me glad hes a dwarf...

[RangerJoe]

When Iron looks to ask Slosh about the weapons policy, he finds Slosh sitting cross-legged on the taut elastic sheeting which is strung between the pontoons on the fore-end of the ship, drinking from a thermos of tea. It smells like mint. “A fair question, Iron. Every sentient has the right to bear arms in his own defense. That right ends at the tip of another sentient’s nose, though.” He pauses. “And of course, mutineers rot in the airless hell of David Jones’.” Slosh seems to be some kind of Neoanarchist, which seems fitting for a freelance smuggler. He smiles once more. “So can ye bear arms? Aye. Aboard the Albacore I expect ye to defend yourself, this vessel, her crew, and cargo. Of course, if you think you have a takin’ to strong wine, sunstroke, or sea madness, it’s probably not a bad idea to leave your piece locked below decks.”

“Aegir’s the name of the main gun,” he continues, pointing to a ring-mounted MMG on the starboard side of the mast. “We keep her charged full time, and manned during watches. Ran’s the name of the harpoon thrower ye saw round by the cockpit.” (It is in a pintle mount, also just starboard of the beam, atop the right pontoon) “We keep her charged, too, just in case. If ye don’t feel safe with your weapon, know ye are as safe as those two can make ye. Seem fair?”