NRJ Week of Sarenith 17, 4712

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Sarenith 18, 4712


The Wormwood, At Sea, The Shackles

          It is hot. A statement of the obvious for this time of year on the Shackles, I know. But still, it is hot. At least we get to sleep at night, unlike during the storms. Not that sleep comes easily when the air is so stifling. The waters are mostly calm, with almost no breeze to cool the sweat on our bodies, much less move the ship. I have no doubt in my mind that if there were oars on this ship, we would be rowing it. Thank goodness for little wonders.

          I can only presume that we are in the southern Shackles. I haven’t really paid all that much attention to where we have been, not that there has been much other than water to pay attention to. To add to the distress of the current weather conditions, people are on knife’s edge for all the “pirating” that we’ve been doing, or rather the lack thereof, since we boarded this ship. I sure hope something happens soon before people begin cracking.




Sarenith 19, 4712


The Wormwood, At Sea, The Shackles

          I would like to credit todays excitement to the lack of reasonable weather conditions, but they played little part in the treachery. Mr. Kroop and I were working in the galley as usual, suffering the still air and making light conversation, but mostly concentrating on the dinner preparations when Grok stuck her head out from the stores asking if we’d heard something. It took a little bit of prodding to get what it sounded like from her, but I was pretty well sure of what was going on once she’d mentioned hollering from the bilges. By chance, I’d seen Mr. Chopper heading down that way, not long after Mr. Fipps and Mr. Maheem.

          I’d noticed the past few days that Mr. Plugg was assigning Mr. Hands, Ms. Feruzi, and Mr. Chopper all jobs that pretty much kept them apart, as well as apart from me, so I can’t say that what I was faced with in the lower hold was much of a surprise. Mr. Maheem was climbing out of the Bilges, faced by Mr. Hands with his smoking pistol.

          I quickly subdued Mr. Maheem, but Mr. Chopper was far worse for the wear. Fortunately, with Ms. Quinn’s help, we were able to resuscitate him. For all that happened afterwards, I’m sure Mr. Plugg does not think very highly of me anymore, if he ever did. Not that it matters much, but rules are rules, and it would not have been to our benefit for Mr. Plugg to bend them to his favor. Fortunately for the four of us, Mr. Hands, Ms. Feruzi, Mr. Chopper, and I, there is one less person glaring daggers in our direction. Unfortunately, a dog will bite back when cornered… and a shark will always attack when it thinks it has the upper hand… as it were.




Sarenith 20, 4712


The Wormwood, At Sea, The Shackles

          A ship as been spotted! You can feel the excitement of most of the crew. Like the sweat from this past miserable week, it seeps from their pores. The Wormwood will catch its prey, and by the looks of it, not long after dawn.




Sarenith 22, 4712


The Wormwood, At Sea, The Shackles

          I said a small prayer for those that died yesterday. Unfortunately, there is always a threat of piracy on the sea, regardless of what ship you’re sailing on.

          The celebrations continued all through last night and so far, today. We have each been given our take of the plunder, which is likely the most that I’ve had on me at any given time. If I weren’t from a relatively well-to-do family of elite warriors, I would probably feel obligated to send some of this money home to them. Alas…




Sarenith 23, 4712


The Man’s Promise, At Sea, The Shackles

          Well, things could be far worse than they are. At least I am not alone on a ship full of people that want me dead.

          Mr. Plugg is planning something. I’m not sure what at this point, but I know it can’t be good. He made it perfectly clear during our time on the Wormwood that he doesn’t really like us, Mr. Hands, Mr. Chopper, Ms. Feruzi, and I. That brings to question why Golarion he would want to bring the four of us onto this ship as part of his crew. There are only a couple logical reasons I can come up with. One, he wants to torture us in ways as of yet unseen, or two, he wants to get rid of us himself. The later I deem the most likely of the two.




Sarenith 23, 4712


The Man’s Promise, At Sea, The Shackles


          Normally, I would wait until tomorrow, but this seems worthy for making an additional entry for today into my journal. Today not withstanding, tonight has brought a glimmer of light to these dismal days I still have left with this crew and, subsequently, Captain. Just a few hours ago, I was awoken by an unlikely person. There really isn’t anything left to steal from this galley, and I have no doubt that theft from the galley would result in punishment for Mr. Kroop and myself. Being the cook, and the cook’s assistant, it would be no skin off Mr. Plugg’s nose to find the two of us responsible for anything amiss from the galley. That being said, the squeaking of the galley’s door opening was the sound of trouble.


          I was definitely surprised to find someone other than Mr. Plugg’s lackeys. The Rahadoum that Mr. Chopper rescued from a watery death, Ms. Leila was digging through the spice bins in search of something.


          After a few moments of unease and cleaning up the shattered sugar bowl and sugar, we got to talking. For the first time in years, someone seemed genuinely interested in my reasons for working with a bunch of cutthroats. Mr. Hands had once asked me about it while we were still aboard the Wormwood, but he didn’t really seem interested despite the fact that he listened with due diligence. Before tonight, the only people that seemed to have an interest in my search were those that I paid to keep a weathered eye open. And that, it seems was limited despite the amount I handed over.


          But Ms. Leila, she seems different. It could be, perhaps that I’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar, or the sugar bowl as it were, but I didn’t get that impression from her. Of course, she told about her past as well. It’s an unfortunate past, but she seems to have made well enough for herself, even if I don’t agree with her methods. But she’s chosen to live freely, and that I can respect from the bottom of my heart. It makes me want to protect her, to help her live a life that she is proud to call her own, that she is not afraid or hesitant to speak of.




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NRJ Week of Sarenith 17, 4712

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