Skulls and Shackles - PFO

The Sea is a harsh mistress

We were all tied to the mast and given three lashes with the whip due to our tardiness after the fight below deck. Naturally, our assailants were deemed to be punctual, despite there being not a hair’s breadth between our arrivals on top deck. When my turn came, Mr. Scourge weilded the whip with particular gusto, and I passed out halfway through.

Sandara Quinn bestowed a measure of divine grace upon me to heal my wounds, which brought me back to consciousness. I thanked her and promised to repay the favor. If only Flipps Chumlett could be so grateful for the healing I have afforded him…

Day 3

I managed to find time while swabbing the deck (possibly because Stehlen’s cantrip was doing such a good job of it) to go below and see Grok. I convinced her to return my Tarot to me in exchange for telling her fortune and providing a “blessing” to her and the ship. I drew for her a Three of Cups, a Seven of Swords and a Queen of Cups while reading the tea leaves to give her an admonishion to deal kindly with others and be mindful of Karma. I also hinted strongly that she may need to be the instrument of Justice to help ease the burden of her past sins.

Day 4

Sea voyages are largely similar, all. Long drudgery and empty oceans. Jack did fall from the rigging several times, tangling the lines, but thankfully not harming himself seriously. The whipping it earned him did the most damage by far, putting the poor lad unconscious. He at least has a charming sense of humor and rare gratitude for my gifts of healing, though.

Flipps insists he is fine, still, despite his wounds and missing eye looking simply dreadful. I am certain I could help if only he would let me — but more to the point, if I can convince him to be an ally…

While making repairs on the sail, one of the swabs came screaming out from belowdecks about “something in the bilges”. What a surprise that the Captain randomly selected all of slaves to go below to see about it… It was oppressively hot and the stench of course is famous. I did get bitten rather badly, but it doesn’t seem infected, and my Healing Arts worked very well. We killed the rats handily enough after discovering them.

Jack got a bad beating for running away from the rats, though. Someone fell asleep in the Crowsnest, but his beating wasn’t quite as bad. Giffer Tibbs was whipped within an inch of her life for being unable to fix the sail.

Day 5

Today, the Mr. Plugg thought he would have a bit of sport. Without dogs to fight, he needed some other poor beast, and he has one, apparently, in the form of one “Owlbear”. The simpleton has been kept chained below decks, but he is a brute of a man. I feared for LaLuka’s life. Luckily, despite wearing fatigue, he was able to exploit Owlbear’s half-blindness to push him to surrender. I shouted over the din of the deck, and I think LaLuka heard me because he accepted Owlbear’s concession, despite the “encouragement” of Mr. Scourge.

Waku and I stayed up all night mending the horrible whipping Mr. Scourge gave him for the (expensive) disappointment.

Day 6

It has begun raining badly.

Stehlen and Waku earned a nasty whipping again for some failure, imagined, no doubt. Waku will spend the next day working the bilges alone. A prospect he seems not unhappy about, considering his preferred snack.

Weather-worn Journal

While walking along the beach with your sweetheart, admiring the sunset, you stumble, literally, upon a small pitched-leather-wrapped package half-buried in the sand. Curious, you both unwrap it to find a beat-up journal. Miraculously, its gentle, measured script is still quite legible! The first page is uncharacteristically crowded, probably added in haste after the thing was written when the author made the decision to throw it overboard…


In this life, I am called Nebril of the Mere. Once ship’s surgeon aboard a respectable merchant vessel, I am now a slave. My hope is that this journal may yet serve as my savior, for such things can serve as a link to me for the purpose of Scrying Arts. I beg of you, stranger, what help you may provide! Such recompense as I am able will be yours in gratitude, and good luck and fortune beyond, as well!

Day 1:

I awoke this morning with a pounding headache. I remember thinking to myself that I hadn’t had quite that much to drink last night, and the arrival of several surly thugs demonstrated why: I’ve been press-ganged! The drink must have been poisoned. What matter is it now, anyway: for here I am.

There was a Tengu among the number of us kidnapped, he has a peg leg and seemed surprised and flattered that I speak his language. His name is Waku. He seems friendly enough, and did promise to help me find my familiar, Mouchi. Mouchi, as it turns out, was quite safe and had managed to follow the ship by wing. He alighted on the railing and joined me while I was swabbing the deck. The mop was handed to me owing my poor performance climbing into the rigging. I really don’t know how the others managed so well, I was still quite out of sorts from the drugging and rough treatment. My role aboard ship has not been menial labor for many decades; worthy captains understand the value of such as I.

They killed a man today who had been caught stealing aboard ship. Keelhauled. Checking the mangled corpse, I can tell at least that he survived long enough to drown. I didn’t even catch his name over the chaos of the deck. The “justice” of pirates is no worse than land.

The “food” tonight consisted of some sort of fish entrails and rat. Mouchi didn’t mind eating the tail that was found in the sludge, at least. Life seems at this moment to be naught but a trial of the banal and grotesque in equal measure. What cruel, ironic fate has befallen me that, in my time of need, I find myself in ever more repulsive circumstances?

I saw the Tiefling applying sweetened tongue to a red-headed girl who gave him a book he seemed rather pleased to receive. A spellbook, no doubt. Pity she didn’t manage to bestow upon him a spell component pouch… The wild halfing girl looks to have headed to the main deck for sleep. She doesn’t speak a word of Common, and I don’t recognize the language she grunts. A real mystery, that one.

There is another Samsaran on board. Press-ganged on the same night as the Tengu and myself. He is a bitter sort, and seems to be uttering prayers to — Urgathoa! I hope he has the sense to keep his worship private! The pirates are a superstitious lot, and gods only know what they will think of a spellcaster making prayers to that dark goddess. Among our number is also a Catfolk with a decent amount of muscle on him. Good with his claws, too. He seems polite and willing enough to make friends, but I haven’t had a chance to speak with him much, as yet. There is also a lidded-eyed man among us. If I had to place a wager, I would say he’s the “land-lubber” reflection of a pirate. But at least a more pleasant sort of person than most of the creatures aboard this garbage scow, for he is most silent.

I wish I had my spell component pouch, too. There is a spell Mouchi knows for just such an occasion, but I dare not use it: I will need all my strength for the coming days of hard labor, I am sure. In any case, I have not got it prepared for use, this day.

Day 2:

The alarm rings altogether too early. Drudgery awaits. The call of Life, as shrill and capricious as ever.

There were four of the brutish thugs barring our passage to the top deck before we could report for duty. I don’t know what they have against us, nor why I am being lumped in with the other four. All we really have in common, as far as I can tell, is that we were shanghaied on the same night. The Tengu, Waku, seems more than willing to indulge their violent urges, though.

We had some trouble at first until the Catfolk warrior decided he’d had enough and let loose on them. Nearly killed two of the swine before they other two ran. The Tengu pecked out the half-orc’s eye… and ate it! The other Samsaran and myself managed to save their lives. They’ll not so soon forget the whipping, though, despite our healing Arts. Fists had put our Tiefling comrade on the ropes until I got to him, too. He looks sturdy enough, as the bookish sort go, but they surely had it in for him for whatever reason. Maybe they really did believe that silly jibe about summoning a Kraken…

You glance at each other in wonderment. You can only guess at the age of the book, but its authenticity is quite convincing to your small-town sensibilities. The stuff of Bards and legends does not so often fall at the feet of commonfolk! With the book still open in your trembling hands, you glance at the ocean surf for a moment before considering whether to read on or bear it to the elder straight away.

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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