Forgotten Freedom:6
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After dealing with Ninja Jaelas, Jarlot going crazier, a trip to the portal of madness, even more clones, and Cool Cthulhu‘s insecurity problems, the crew of the Forgotten Freedom was running low on expendable crew.
So at the nearest city…
A long line forms, leading into a building the FF crew have “borrowed” for the purpose of getting redshirts.
In the interview room; Jarlot, Marish (Jarlot said so, that’s why), Ketler (To see if any warforged redshirts were well built), Lisa (To check morality of prospects) Michael (To check immorality of prospects), Bruce Ki (Because he can’t find where he is supposed to go), and whoever else feels free to wander in at the moment.
Outside, hundreds of potential corpses… er, crew as well as the rest of the FF team.
Warforged: I need the following people to get out of the line and go to the “Red Room”: Any dual scimitar-wielding drow with panthers, anyone named Sephiroth, Sesshomaru, or Goku…
Jarlot: Ok, who’s next?
(Pyrokineticist and Fighter walk in)
Fighter: Uh… Is this like, where we do stuff?
Pyro: Heheh, hey how’s it going?
Lisa: They don’t look like the brightest torches…
Pyro: Heheh torches! Fire! Fire! Heheheh
Fighter: Woah! Chicks! Uhuhuh, hey babies…
Michael: Hey, I like them!
Jarlot: Ok, why are you two here?
Pyro and Fighter: Money! And chicks! And fire! And chicks!
Doog (who’s in the room): Sound like perfectly good reasons to me.
Warforged: Any ninjas who want to become ninja pirates, any kenders…
Jarlot: So why do you want to join?
Orange Warforged: Statement- Simple. Your reputation states that your crew has the highest rate of murder and/or pillaging per voyage
Bruce/Lisa: WHAT?!?!
Jarlot: Er… he’s mistaken! That’s …. Someone else… Why don’t you two go… ship… there!
Michael: So, what, you wanna kill everything?
Orange Warforged: Clarification: Only those things worthy of my time, meatbag.
Ketler: Hmm, this is a well-built warforged
Orange Warforged: Statement: At least this meat bag can respect the quality of my construction.
Marish: Meow! These guys look good.
(A Wizard, a Fighter, a Rogue and a Mystic Theuge walk in)
Jarlot: So why do you want to join us?
Rogue: Treasure!
Wizard: Killing!
Fighter: Swords!
Mystic Theuge: EXP!
Michael: MY SWORDS!
Jarlot: MY EXP!
Marish: MY TREASURE!
Michael: MY KILLING!
Lisa: Oh, this is just not good at all…
Warforged: Anyone from the Silver Flame, anyone claiming to be Zaphod Beeblebrox, any amnesiac young RPG stereotypes…
Lisa: Uh… can we help you
Silver Warforged: No. No one can.
Michael: What the hell are you here for?
Silver Warforged: I wish to spread the misery that is my existence to as many beings as possible.
Jarlot: Well, this is the ship
Marish: This thing is even bringing me down…
Silver Warforged: If you think being near a depressed warforged is bad, try being one.
At the “Red Room”
V: The smelly one is supposed to be here!
Doog: Hey I’m here, let's get ready.
One of many Drow w/scimitars: Hey, we heard this is where we are supposed to be.
(Suddenly the room is flooded with alchemist's fire by the crew. Those remaining are beaten with sticks.)
Doog: I love this job!
Norbaz: Hm, alchemist's fire cooks fast, and yet locks in the flavor well.
Andrea: Ok, we’ll split the bodies evenly between food and zombies.
Norbaz: Ok, but you take those drow. They aren’t fit to eat…
Pholly: Yes! I CAN USE ALCHEMIST'S FIRE FOR THIS! WOOT! Jarlot even said so!
Waiting Room
Orange Warforged: The meatbag pirates seem to be incompetent
Silver Warforged: They all are. Everybody.
Orange Warforged: Query- If you dislike everything, why not destroy it all?
Silver Warforged: What’s the point? If I kill an organic, two more will have been born and I’ll wear out before I can chip away at it.
Orange Warforged: Query- But why not have fun killing things until you wear out?
Silver Warforged: Fun? There’s no such thing. It’s just deluding your sensors and forgetting about the inevitable for a while. It’s just like those meatbags.
Pyro: Heheh those chicks were checking me out
Fighter: Liar. Huhuhuh. They were checking ME out.
(Later, back on the ship, Kanatash floats into the room followed by a Mind Flayer, a Gauth, and an Abolith. On seeing the Mindflayer Ketler screams and dives under the table trembling.)
Jarlot: Um, Kanatash who are these guys?
Kanatash: (telepathically) These are just some individuals I encountered before taking residence aboard your ship.
Jarlot: Okay, would you care to introduce them?
Kanatash: Of course (pointing towards the Mind Flayer) This is Jonny the retarded Illithid. Not only is he stupid by Mindflayer Standards but also by the standards of your crew. When I encountered him he was trying to hump a doorknob in the middle of a dwarven stronghold. (Moving on the Gauth) This is Squinty the nearsighted Gauth. He is so blind that he cannot see what is happening ten feet away from him and he has corrective eyeglasses for all of his eyestalks. Unfortunately, these glasses tend to reflect his eyerays back at himself and has to date blasted out three of his own eyes.
Jarlot: (looking quite taken aback) I probably don't want to know but... What about the Aboleth?
Kanatash: Ah yes, perhaps the most pathetic individual of the bunch, Melvin the Allergic Aboleth. He has a breathing disorder with makes it so he cannot breathe underwater, but unfortunately for him is also allergic to his own mucus cloud so if he is not submerged in water to wash away the mucus his body constantly generates he breaks out in horrible rashes and hives.
Marish: (with a look of pity) Why are you friends with these things, Kanatash?
Kanatash: Oh, I'm not friends with them. After all I'm trying to get them hired on this ship as redshirts and I know what happens to the redshirts on this ship. I'm doing this so these idiots will stop trying to follow me.
Jarlot: (to the rest of the interview committee) Well, as redshirts go, these guys wouldn’t be half bad. I’m not sure how Pholly will take it, though.
Cleric: With luck the little geek will blow himself to smithereens over this one.
Marish: Now, now. He does fill a vital role in this crew.
Cleric: Yeah? Like what?
Marish and Jarlot think for a while.
Jarlot: You know, now that you ask....
Marish: Safety! The man is a shining example of how NOT to use alchemist's fire. Or any other explosive, for that matter. And he has other uses, too. Like trapfinding. Nobody trips a lethal trap like ol' Pholly. Why, if he wasn’t there to take those nasty traps in the teeth, you would have more work on your hands, you ingrateful band-aid dispenser!
Jarlot: That, and the pool on when he’s going to blow himself up next is up to 300 gold...
Michael and Doog traipse down the passageway, arguing over what liquor is cheaper and still gives you the best buzz.
Michael: I’m tellin ya, man. That Bluevine crap is strictly for the suckers, now if you want something good...
Doog: (stopping outside a heavily scorched door) Hey, ain’t this Pholly-guy's room?
Michael: Yeah....(grins evilly) hey, check this.
(Michael carefully opens the door, revealing Pholly trying to delicately mix alchemist's fire, totally absorbed in his work.)
(Michael motions Doog to step back out of the doorway, and pulls a paper bag from his cloak.)
(He grins wickedly, inflates the bag, then claps it between his hands with a loud bang.)
Pholly: Wha!?! (totally screws the mixture)
(Pholly's room explodes, a gout of flame jets into the corridor and a smell of charred Pholly fills the area.)
(Doog and Michael laugh.)
Michael: Man, I never get tired of doing that!
The next day after noticing the enhancements given to the keel
Pholly: The What? Can cast WHAT?!? Gosh, I feel so insignificant now. Wait, I know. I'll come up with Alchemist's Nuke!! Yeah, that's the ticket!! (at this point, Pholly is clubbed to 0 hp by the entire crew.)
Ship's cleric: (idly cleaning his nails) No. Stop. Don’t hit him. Why are you doing that?
Captain Jarlot: Don’t worry, I’m cutting his pay to cover the repair bills.
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