Beware the Blood Red Rose's Thorn [Miri]

Kroop Drunken Check (high is drunk)
M5ewYkmx1d100

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The drunken, but not passed out, Kroop was already in the kitchen by the time Miri managed to make it to the galley the next morning. "Miri! Good, good. I need you to take to the deck and see what you can catch. Need enough fish ta' feed the crew…. Had plenty until the pigs knocked over the barrel and ate their weight in supplies." For once the livestock were properly tied up - hence Kroop's frazzled appearance and relative undrunken state.

He gestured to a side of the galley where fishing supplies was actually collected together in a leaning pile of poles, nets, and hooks in one of the corners. "I'll be here getting the stew base ready." He pulled the cork out of a bottle and took a drink. Yeah. Getting stew ready. Sure.

Pick how you would like to go about your daytime ship action (as seen in the above previous post)! Here is your task:

Fishing: Catching tonight’s supper using the ship’s nets. A DC 10 Survival check provides enough fish. A failed check results in (It's a surprise)1d100

((Omg I didn't... know it was possible to roll a d120...))

ACTUAL FISHING SURVIVAL CHECK: HeipqC301d20+0
1d20+0

Over the next two weeks Miri found herself in a horrid, humid, hateful routine. She'd wake up well before dawn and experience the gamble of whether or not Fishguts was coherent enough to cook or not. On days he was only lightly drunk? He'd do the bulk of the preparations and meal cooking leaving Miri to enjoy his stories, keep an eye on the stove, and slowly but surely get the kitchen into a better working order. On days he was passed out still from the night before? Miri was the only one there to try and prepare the meals.

The fourth day had Plugg sending Miri down into the bilges to investigate a rat problem. The kicked blade she'd placed at the threshold of the kitchen door made that individual task easier - for a moment. An hour into the rat culling some of the crew's more... Fighting prone who backed both Plugg and Scourge went down to show the newest recruit the pecking order. With five against one Miri held her own well but being a decent bladesmen did nothing against the raining of fisted blows. It was Sandara who woke up the unconscious rogue with her gentle healing hands and a soft coon of birdsong sounding lullaby.

The end of the fifth day had storm clouds on the horizon, and sure enough it had rained heavily on the sixth day. Never had being the cook's mate been such a thankful job - it kept her out of the downfall, of which Sandara told her all about it that night after Run Rations with a drowned rat scowl. The lull of that night was only the start of the true weather to come.

The storm that hit the sea over the next few days was one that would live on in bard songs. Crew were lost overboard, supplies abandoned in order to levy some of the weight in hopes of moving with the waves better. Everyone was on board, everyone, Fishguts too, in order to keep the rigging from breaking. Captain Harrigan was at the helm shouting orders no one could hear due to the thunder. It was a constant 3 days of barely any substance in the way of food or fresh water. The tenth day? Finally, a normal sunny day. No clouds in the sky. Everyone slacked off their work, but no one dare abandon it completely - Plugg and Scourge made sure of that, strutting around ordering people to work as if they hadn't just lost about a third of the crew.

The cloud-less sky should have been an indicator of the heat to come. The eleventh day was sweltering hot, deep tan skin even burned - Sandara had her work cut out for her that evening. With barely any stores of food supplies Miri and Fishguts had the stressful task of managing something for the crew to eat. Kroop was even sober now, due to the rain and the resulting harder work. Miri's insistence they were in this together had him sharing more of his story, how he used to be a prime chef of the Lord's Table, a renowned restaurant in Baulder's Gate before he was removed from his leadership position due to reasons he didn't care to share. He'd packed up on the next ship and performed his craft on various vessels until he lost a game of cards and was required to serve on the Bear's Throat. That was three years ago. He had no hope of ever leaving, but Miri? She helped him get his spark back. That, and Miss Black-Hearted Bezebel of course.

The evening of the eleventh night had Sandara pulling Miri aside, an excited light in her eye. She was fully decked out in gear - gear that Miri had never seen. Expensive looking leather pants, a high polished belt holding two pistols, a bandolier of potions, sword at her hip, blood red bandana around her waist, and her pipe lit with a purple-red fire. The sky was crystal clear and still warm despite the sun being gone. A perfect night for something exciting to happen.

Pulling the rogue by the arm to duck near the bow of the ship where they wouldn't be seen Sandara whispered animatedly to Miri. "Miri, Aye got et, teh proof Aye'd been looking fer tae present to teh High Council in Luskan. Tonight? Tonight we burn this ship to the seabed, skewer the stains ta the pirate name that be Harrigan an' his loyal crew, and pull those who've we've seen who share our opinions off this Umberlee cursed vessel."

The tall woman then pulled out a small box that was tied around her waist, flipped it open, then closed it - a wide grin on her face easily seen in the moonlight. "She'll be here soon." An ominous message, made more strange by the way she ducked to peak around the crates they had as cover to glance at the main deck. Two fingers were held to her mouth and with that? Sandara whistled sharply - and all the lanterns still lit on deck immediately plunged into darkness. Turning her face back to Miri she smiled and asked. "Care to get off this ship Lass?"

"Then here, take this. It'll keep you safe from the crew that's coming aboard." She held out a single ornate feather, about 6 or 7 inches in length, and looked to be made of fire. The quill was a bright yellow gold while the barbs and vane shifted from pale gold to a deep ruby red. At the end was what looked to be a peacock eye, but in colors of fire instead of earthen gems. "Aye'll need tha' back though, that one's mine. Didn't think Aye'd need as many as Aye do. When the sails of the Bear's Thoat light you'll know it's time. Anyone holding a phoenix feather like this? They're on our side." Sandara then clasped Miri on the shoulder and wished her good luck.

The night continued in silence after that point. A faint smell of oil hung in the air - was that Sandara up in the rigging? No, no one would be in the rigging this late at night. The hours seemed to drag on and on. Had... Had Sandara been lying?

A sharp keen whistle sliced through the air, a piercing birdcall. The thud of an arrow sinking into the main mast of the ship, then the heavy whoosh! of fire catching on oil soaked canvas illuminated the 3am darkness of the Bear's Throat. There, in the once glory of the Throat's dark sails, was the visage of a bird on fire, symbolically burning.

The water port side of the Throat began churning then as suddenly, as if by magic, a ship rose out of the water. The bow broke first, the long outstretched bowspirit splitting open the still water, followed by the foremast and the figurehead of, strangely enough, a hippocampus - a rearing water horse. As the ship became fully water level it glinted in the firelight of the now beginning to burn Bear's Throat. The wood was dark red, the sails were blood, and all the metal decorations were bold, bronze, and rose.

Pirates, of all races - with a fair balance leaning towards bestial races, began to come out onto the main dock of the opposing ship. On all of them, somewhere so it could be seen easily, was a fire colored feather of various lengths and ornateness. Matching what Sandara had given her.

Below deck noise of people waking up from the sudden rocking of their ship against the waves caused by the other ship. From up in the rigging a laughter was heard as a torch was dropped from high above to land on a large oil spill around the main mast. It was Sandara, acting much more lively than she'd been the last few weeks.

"Vengeance is her only ward. Beware the Blood Red Rose's Thorn!" She shouted from the crow's nest, then jumped without fear from the high height. Landing, superhero style, her blade emitted a bright mythical fire light, orange and red and purple and gold, as it struck the wood, shedding the bright light in a 40 foot radius around her. Raising her sword high she bellowed a battle cry. The air around her matched her cry, thunder rumbling mixed with the fierce sound of a bird's skree. The others began crossing the deck, beating many of those on the Bear's Throat first to their already burning ship. A few of those loyal to Harrigan were starting to make it on deck.

As for those Sandara had alluded to? On deck Miri would recognize Kroop for one, wearing a feather pinched between the buckle of his apron. Groop, the half orc shopkeep and quartermaster had hers in her belt. A smattering of others, some she'd reconize as those who worked in the rigging and as swabs had feathers. It seemed of the remaining Throat crew? There were about 5 who'd had enough of Harrigan's rules.

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Roll Initiative as if you were level four Miri! It's not an order so much as your position in who goes in this wild weird mix of pvp and group vs group. We're gonna see how this ship battle turns out as I've never done anything like this XD. I might have a delay for a day as I stat out some of the NPCs on the Rose's side of things.

Miri had enough time to gather any supplies she has. In the two weeks you could have gained whatever gear you have as a lvl 4 character.

Miri was quick to position herself to the side, allowing herself the best chance to plan her attack. As the crew of the submarine ship took up positions as naturally as a dance at a gala or masquerade ball the Bear's Throat had no such elegance. The first to spill out on deck were many who Miri had gotten to know through some extent. Swabs and riggers who she'd recognize by sight but not name for the most part.

They streamed past her, clashing with the first wave of feathered donned crew, leaving room for some of the stronger Throat's crew to finally get topside. Crimson Cogward was one such familiar face, his cheeks and neck already red and fuming at the rally call. He'd been someone Miri had played dice and cards against for the better part of her stay here. "A turncoat? To Umbrlee with you!" He swore when he put two and two together with how Miri was already standing ready, sword out, and feather shining in the firelight.

The sounds of battle sprang around them. Drums from a bard hanging from the red ship's rigging inspiring those below. The quick steady pace was like a frantic heartbeat, a song of war, a herald of what was to come.

Cogward was already in a rage, yelling and acting boarishly and without regard to his own safety, careful stepping, or care to where his blade sliced. But there was power in this chaos, one that would be foolish to ignore. His blade came down hard towards Miri, but the rogue was ready and blocked it with a deft twist of her blade.

Locked in combat Miri goes first!

Cogward behaved as if he hadn't felt the blade slip between his leather armor, pincushioning him to begin bleeding. Yanking his sword away he raised his blade up over his head to then whip the blade in a diagonal slash toward Miri.

He didn't notice in his recklessness he was being lead away from the bulk of the fight so there was more space around them.

To hit
_S3vWFtX1d20+3 if hit: 1d6+3

1d20+3 if hit: 1d6+31d20+3·1d6+3·1d20+3·1d6+3