The Travellers Tales of Otto Von Weirdigan

[Otto]

Motherfuckers! His mind screams at him as he powers down the steps.

As you arrive at the stone platform that forms the jetty, you almost run into the two Watchmen who had proceeded before you.
The pair of them have pulled the boat back in, a rope now secured upon the stern.
A figure stands in the boat, across his arms lies Arianna.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, the boat bumps against the stone berth, and Zorranson steps from the boat, silently handing her to you, his light panama suit is covered in filth and blood, disturbingly his mouth, throat and hands are similarly covered.

"She will need bed rest doctor, but otherwise she seems unharmed"
With that he nods and moves past you, mounting the stairs.

Do I remember anything about the vampire incident in the mansion?
I will check her over for injuries.
Was this some form of delaying action on their part?
Why did they want Arriana?

Make an Int Roll & Medic Check

I

nt 26, Medic 17

There’s a nagging thought of recognition, but you can't place it.
Looking her up and down, she has concussion, several lacerations to her arms (look deliberate), a large bruise to her left cheek and some slight internal bruising (Which your scans reveal).

Zorranson turns "Possibly Doctor, but for what purpose I do not know, as for your wife!"
"That was a warning, people are beginning to fear you and how much you and I could cost them, and such people who were once decent folk have turned to dark forces"

Zorranson seems to reconsider his progress up the stairs
"Doctor I have several town houses here in Centrum, the least I can do is allow you the sole use of one, to convalesce and look after your beloved?"

I want out. But this bastard isn’t going to know it.
I nod, and gesture him to lead the way as I carry Amdea
How many of the watchmen are left? As I need to speak with them.
As you get to the top, you see Vestrian and around 10 watchmen remaining.
I walk over to Vestrian.

‘I am so sorry about Taft, he was a good and brave man’ Otto croaks ‘And thank you for your help finding Arianna. Can I ask one more great favour?’

Vestrian looks at his sergeant for a long moment.
"What can I do Doctor?"
‘Is there any way you could give me any information on Zorranson? What do you know of him?’

‘And is there any way you could offer me sanctuary for a few days?’

Conspiratorially Vestrian moves to one side with you
"Doctor this is the man who has just saved your wife, why are you so suspicious?"

‘Where did he just appear from for a start?’ He says with frustration.

"That I don't know Doctor, but we can thank small mercies that he did" Vestrian sags, clearly exhausted and then breathes out a long sigh.

‘I’ve got to get her to somewhere she can rest’ I say to Vestrian

‘I pray to god she hasn’t been raped’ Otto thinks to himself.

Zorranson’s townhouse is an idillic place, squeezed in between well to do buildings in the Inner City, with its own courtyard and walled in garden.
Understanding your suspicion, Vestrian has had a junior detective accompany you, while Zorranson has travelled to another of his dwellings.

Over the next few days you are able to conduct a detailed medical examination, relief washes over you, as she has not been violated in that way, unusual for orks you conclude.
Your bedside vigil watches as her physical injuries begin to heal, however a fever has swept over her, one that nothing you've tried has lessened its effects, in fact it seems to be getting stronger.
Your arcane senses are telling you that something has infected her.

Her breathing gets shallower and Amdea gets greyer in complexion.
How did I get back onto the world? And how am I to get off it?
As I feel that the only way I can help Amdea is to get some higher tech medicine.

I will conduct intensive blood samples. Also I will conduct tests to see if she seems more susceptible to certain environments/conditions. Such as exposure to sunlight, garlic!
I need to get her off this rock!

[Otto]

The Curse.

Colonel Casin Gadus took his responsibilities as senior liaison officer to Centrum city very seriously.

A veteran of 40 years in the Legions and Qesemet Diplomatic Corps, at the age of sixty eight he looked in his early forties.
The office was plush, polished hazel wood panelling, new wallpaper above the panelling with earthy tones and an almost druidic pattern; it seemed that Lord Ivelliian's outlook had indeed changed.
The First Lord of Commerce sat behind his desk, near the window.

"She is a native Gothician, as such we have no pretense to take her off-world, its forbidden under the charter! Before you start on its a life worth saving Doctor, I am thinking of saving lives, my duty is to ensure that factions within the Empire have no opportunity to sequest Gothica, an event that would lead to a great deal of life loss" The Colonel paced like some impatient cat, Ivelliian sat his hands steepled before his face.

You sit quietly the rage and anger of this bullshit situation flowing through you.
The blood tests had confirmed that Adrianna wasn't suffering from vampirism, instead some dire plague visited upon her by the Black orks, the mana trace patterns running around her feverish body looked coincidentally close to the entropic patterns of the orks.

"In reality Doctor, you shouldn't be within a thousand light years of Gothica, after the stunt you and your companions pulled, if the ISPD knew you were here you'd be in deep level interrogation’

Distantly you hear yourself mutter "Fuck the ISPD"

"This is getting us nowhere" interrupts Ivelliian, "Colonel, the Empire has lifted Gothician dignitaries into orbit, for medical purposes"

"She's a telegraph operator from Goodlund for Khelorns sake"

"Thats Goodland" interjects Ivelliian, before you can react "And what’s more she is a hero of the place, therefore a dignitary, what if I were to have her ordained as a lady of the Empire and give her some prominent position"

The Colonel glares at the First Lord "I think your overstepping the mark, Ivelliian"

"Well one of the virtues of being First Lord is the right to overstep the mark Colonel!" he replies

The ship lifted off the floating island some 50 miles due east of Centrum, the island floated at thin level altitude.
Its stealth cloak activated and began to cycle, despite its steam level tech, the Empire was always aware that some freak electrical invention could pick up one of their shuttles.
The flight was smooth, in less than thirty minutes the ship had left Gothica's orbit and approached Taol, Gothica's largest moon, in reality the moon had only been present in orbit for 300 years, an asteroid dragged into orbit to provide a discreet base for the Court.

Now encapsulated in an enviro-pod Adriana’s condition had stabilised.
You were less than happy that you had had to submit to Imperial assistance, you had wanted to take her to your ship docked with the High Tower Station, however the Colonel had insisted that the only way she was to leave the planet was under sedation and in an Imperial ship.

The bio-doctors worked for several hours, before the chief of Bio-Chem a robot called 'Abrimân' briefed you.

"She is not afflicted with a disease or malady, instead with what looks like a curse. I have consulted with the arcane specialists and this is what needs to be done"

Pausing he continues;
"The source of the source of the curse seems to be blood, specific blood, we need a sample of this blood to individualise a Ritual capable of negating this effect, we have stabilised the patient to a point where the curse will progress no further, but without this ritual she will have to remain in stasis indefinitely"

Otto rubs his weary eyes as he sits in the plush armchair.

‘If there is anyway I can repay you for your help and kindness for this woman I will heartily help in any way’.
He stands up stiffly, his hoarse voice almost bestial.

‘If needs be gentlemen, there is no reason why Arriana should need to be woken if your good graces would take her off world. I propose that she is kept in a medically induced coma, and once the treatment is completed that she is returned to Gothica none the wiser for the interplanetary journey. And I will be out of your hair for good also, and I will not return.’

I have no choice but to leave you here my dear, the adventure has become sour, as I feared it might. He thinks to himself as he tries to keep his emotions in check before the dignitaries.

The events of the past day seemed like a whirlwind, with a couple of hours a shuttle had returned you to the surface and then via Steampunk means back to Centrum.

You stayed the night at Ivelliian's manor on the outskirts, the house was magnificent a combination of Victoriana finery surprisingly mixed with old worldly elven design, you slept solidly for a day and a half, before awakening.

[Otto]

Ivelliian's Cog Butler Ivellilos, awoke you in the sunny early afternoon, handing you telegram upon a silver plate.

To: Dr T Spindle
From: Greythorpe and Associates
Subject: Lunch 12am Tomorrow.
Venue: The Thorn and Ivy Resturant, 4 Verne Avenue.

As one of a handful of resident Gothicians with both Imperial knowledge and clearance Lord Ivallian, stood beside Colonel Gadus.
Gadus like 5 generations before him was a career soldier, hailing from The Silver Legion, which was only fitting as the Siridor System sat within House Sarava space.
Both men watched the shuttle's ion shields re-aligned for atmospheric re-entry, before the ship vanished from the visual spectrum.
Gadus had replaced Agent Mirander after the Blood Killings in Centrum City, with the Mind Flayers presence being discovered a more senior military officer had been placed as liaison.

"Why Ivallian?" Gadus had wanted to ask the question for the past 3 days, but the tall half-elf hadn't been receptive until now.

"Why did you join the Legions Colonel?" replied the Lord

"Duty, family honour, the thrill of accomplishment and battle" he replied

"Fighting the good fight perhaps" Ivallian left that hanging between them for a while "Just sometimes Gadus we are faced with the opportunity to do something good, to improve someone’s lot, and more often than not we choose to ignore the opportunity, because of rules and regulations"

"You’re doing this to clear your conscience,” replied the Colonel cautiously
"Otto Von Weirdigan and his ernstwhilst companions caused havoc on Gothica a year ago, but they also did some good, just little bits here and there, stopped a series of murders, saved an insignificant town from destruction, need I go on"
Another long silence descended between them.

"This never leaves this room,” said the Colonel finally as he stepped through a bulkhead door.

[Otto]

The Quest.

The Ivy & Thorn restaurant is a plush place, mostly light stone accented by cherry wood.
The establishment is set on three layers, with what appear to be the most affluent on the uppermost level.

An extremely well groomed man in Victoriana suit finery, salt and pepper hair, mutton chop side burns and well-groomed white beard, several serious looking men sit on adjacent tables.

He stands “Dr Spindle, good of you to come, sorry to hear of recent events”
You both sit, after ordering wine he continues with small talk.

Sense motive of 19

'Is this guy taking the piss?' Otto thinks.
Smiling in a disarming way he places his hand in the revolver in his jacket pocket.................................

Your certainly not comfortable at the moment, his enquiry seems sincere, but his tone is insincere.

“So I understand your work has suffered a significant set back, in addition to your personal problems,” he quietly states, “Had you considered that your current employer may not be able to offer you’re the means or protection to complete the work!”

'I think you had best show more tact which befits a gentleman of your stature, before I put you down a peg or two' Otto says calmly but the menace and threat is clearly implied.

Intimidation of 26 a crit!

'What are you offering?' Otto asks bluntly. 'As the cost has recently sky rocketed! There are a few more of my friends whose wives will be in mourning tonight for a long time. And its people like you who are the cause of it!'
'Don't try my patience; believe me when I say that it is near breaking point as it is!'
Otto grits his teeth.................

Greythorpes veneer seems to slip, for a moment he has to compose himself.
Taking a sip of wine he finally replies
"I trust your wife will make a full recovery!"

'Why should you give a damn?' Otto hunches over the table towards him. 'Make your offer, or I bid you good day sir!'

Intimidation of 17

(Make a Spot Check and Will Save):

Spot of 16, Will of 25

The tension begins to build to a dangerous level, too such an extent that the occupants of other tables begin to look.
Your sensors kick up giving you a sweep of the room, your arcane senses begin to extend, enhancing your sixth dimensional awareness.
As it does an effect washes over you, your own mental barriers slamming shut, pushing the effect away.
The invoker of such an effect pays the price, as a hammer blow of mystical force is brought down by Gothica, knocking the man out cold in his chair.
Another man, a slight man, stands, his body belying poise to spring if necessary.
Your sensors detect some form of distortion around the man, particularly his face.

Otto draws his revolver

ref of 18

and quickly put the pistol to Greythorpes head.
'Any more funny business from you sunshine and you'll be scooping your bosses brains up from your oxtail soup' Otto barks to the slight man.

Otto stands up and walks around the back of Greythorpe so he can keep an eye on the slight man.

Spot of 14, is this guy masking what he truly is?

'You!' He shouts at the slight man 'Help your fainting friend off the floor! And no smart ideas savvy?'

The restaurant freezes, a situation that its posh patrons could never conceive of has occurred. The slight man stops, his face full of quiet menace, momentarily his eyes seem to glow a pale red.
"Doctor" rasps Greythorpe "What are you doing?"

The slight man seems to be analysing the situation, decided what is best, before he backs up to the unconscious man and prods him.
Black caped Inner City Watchmen move into the establishment, your eyes are filled with fury, your trigger finger tightens.

It is then that a tall elf in a long tailored coat, steps between you and the Watchmen.
Another figure barges his way through the tables at the back of the restaurant, the Watchmen move to intercept him, the patrons look in dismissive disgust at the arrival.
"Doc" says Tailor "This ain't gona do any good, fink of yer lady"
The elf speaks finally "Doctor, I do not represent a company, but the Half-ork speaks sensibly, no good can come of this and it will not help your wife! Now lower the gun!"

With a moment’s hesitation, I lower the gun.

(I felt like Indiana Jones when he meets Belach in Cairo after he thinks Marion is dead! Ha ha!)

'Thank god the watchman intervened' Otto thinks to himself.

'These blackguards are behind the loss of your comrades! This bastard was mocking their memories with his toadies leering from the other table' he gestures to the table with the slight man and his unconscious oppo on the floor (stealthily flicking him the finger as I do!)

"Doctor, this way" says the elf, as he gently guides you away from Greythorpe.
The slight man steps in front of the elf, a long moment passes between them, your enhanced hearing picks up the slight man whispering
"You have no idea what you’re dealing with!"
"Really" replies the elf "On the contrary I think you’re out of your depth"
With that he pushes past the slight individual, the Watchmen part making no attempt to stop you.
Greythorpe stands "This isn't finished doctor, no one insults me and" thwack, the businessman is floored by Tailor

'Be thankful you prick' I shout to Greythorpe. 'I would have given you a lead lobotomy!'

'And as for you' Looking at the slight man 'I know who I'm dealing with, thieves and cowards!'

I get in the carriage very reluctantly!

[Otto]

The carriage moves swiftly into the midday, the buildings of the inner city give way to the outer city, passing through the wall.
The elf sits in silence only responding if you speak to him.
He's typically tall for an elf, a harder face than the norm, battle hardened, and the most striking feature is shoulder length flaming red hair, his eyes so dark they appear black.

Sense motive of 18 Can I read this elf’s mannerisms? Does he mean me harm?

His motives seem concealed from you, if he notices your actions he doesn't betray the fact.
The carriage moves slowly around the buildings, pulling up outside a ramshackle building.
He silently steps out and waits quietly for you, once you have disembarked, he leads you into the building.
Stepping through the run down empty rooms, you come into a large back room, once a kitchen or scullery.
Several figures stand around a large table.

Vestrian steps out of the gloom, accompanied by Zorranson.

"Otto" says the Inspector "Differences aside, let’s get on and save Adrianna and avenge Taft!" With a flurry of movement the collected party assemble around the table.

[Otto]

The assembled group gather around the table, there are five in total other than yourself and the red haired elf.
Those that you know are the Inspector and Zorranson, joining you are another elf, this one has grey skin, his hair wispy and thin, a haunted look about him, the next is a small gnome woman, ancient in appearance, her skin so tight and taunt to her face she appears like a mummy, finally a human, his face weather hardened, balding, a thick moustache.

Zorranson lays a map out upon the table, an old map.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Doctor Spindle, we owe him an enormous debt, that said what he seeks in is Scarathera, this mission is at the very least extremely perilous, should any of you wish to walk away now then do so!"
No one moves

"Very well" continues Zorranson "Dr the elf to your left is Freyan a native of Scarathera, our shorter companion is Tabitha Wyst a mystic"
Gesturing to the human "This is captain Threnshin, who is intimately knowledgeable of the Northern Straits, finally the gentleman beside you is?"
"My name is 'Elissil Montant' I represent Lord Ivallian in this matter"

Zorranson continues, "Inspector please continue"
Vestrian looks around at the assembled party, "Dr Spindle has to find some blood from a creature that has cursed his wife, according to the research we have conducted so far, these Black Orks who held Adrianna originated from the islands of Scarathera"
The wizened gnome continues, "We have concluded that the blood required does indeed hail from the islands"
"So" continues Zorranson "Captain Threnshin is here to get us to the islands, while Freyan is here to give us the local knowledge we need"
Looking around the table you see at the least trepidation and more likely fear in their faces, all except Freyan.

'Ladies and Gentlemen' Otto inclines his head and speaks softly.
'I think from the looks on your faces I would very much like to know more about these Islands of which you speak' A thin lipped smile crosses his lips. As he folds his arms expectantly.

Sense motive of 17.

The group is silent for a moment, waiting for one of them to speak first.

Finally Zorranson speaks "Many centuries ago, dwarves, elves and man stopped fighting each other, instead they carved a mighty empire and in the process drove away anything monstrous"
"In the case of monsters such as orks and giants they were driven south, into the badlands"
"However creatures of the night were given no quarter, when the empires armies stopped hunting them the church didn't, numerous crusades took place, until the few surviving creatures fled north, to the harsh uninviting islands of Scarathera"
"There they have been a plague upon the existing inhabitants, virtually taking over the islands, shrouding them in eternal twilight"
"The route there is perilous, so doctor you can probably understand anyone’s reticence about visiting Scarathera!"

'Ah! I see!' Tapping the table.

'Well, Ladies and Gentlemen. All I need is a map and a little bit of advice and a workshop. I don't want anyone else on this dare I say it 'Quest'. Believe me when I say I want no-one to go with me!'

A great deal of murmuring descends upon the table.
"Doctor!" exclaims Zorranson "You will surely die"

Vestrian looks defeated and sits down resigns "Bloody fool has a chance at redemption and wishes to commit suicide"
The somewhat touching and angry debate goes on around you, until the grey skinned elf steps forward.
He looks straight into your eyes, regards you for a long moment, a stare that silences the group.
His voice is like a breeze through a graveyard, a whisper that rouses the dead.

"Captain Threnshin will take you and I to the islands" says Freyan, if you do not want me to travel with you I will follow at a distance, those are the terms Doctor, no one alive is better at navigating the 'Straits' and you will not survive the night without a guide"
His tone is very final.

'I agree with what you are asking Freyan. And I'll be more than happy to have you aboard with me'. Otto smiles.

'I think this elf is probably not up his own arse like a certain horned individual I know!' Otto thinks.

[Otto]

Captain Threnshin's boat is a large sloop, low to the water, with what appear to be reinforced sides to its hull, under tarps and rope is mounted what appears to be a five or six pound gun on the fore deck.

The crew men are a dour lot, hard men with little to say, almost certainly gallows humour would be the preferred comedy aboard.
Mounted on spring mounted racks lining the railing are large harpoons, your sensors run scans along the length of the merciless looking weapons, the analysis complete revealing that the heads are silvered.

"Spindle" bellows Threnshin above the racket of rigging being braced, tack and pulleys being prepared and the twin steam turbines getting their steam up.
You see Freyan amid some of the crewmen, the elf although silent seems to be accepted aboard the vessel.

"Spindle" repeats the captain, tearing yourself away from your observation you climb the ironwood ladder into the wheelhouse, immediately a tin cup is shoved into your hand.
The smell of a potent coffee like brew strikes you, your sensors register the strong spirit concealed within.
Looking out of the rear portholes of the wheelhouse, you see more crewmen stowing and securing large fishing nets.

"They won't be using them on this trip you surmise.
The racket is then pierced by the howling whistle of the steam turbines and the boat pushes off.

'Mind if I muck in and help Captain? I'm a dab hand with the engines!' Otto asks. He walks out of the boathouse and he passes over some vittles to a deck hand for storage in the hold. The crew work methodically and efficiently, slipping the ropes and stowing them and checking the spare sails in the event that the engine becomes faulty.

The sloop cuts through the waters of a river called the 'Menendrun', houses shrouded in twilight shadows look eerie, as if the northern provinces of Adracia are somewhat darker than the south 'Ah to be in Goodland' you think.
Boats move past you silently, silent nods are exchanged as if their occupants know your destination, the more Northerly you travel the choppier the waters.

"Not a problem, keep yer mind off the challenges ahead" replies the captain, without looking up from his charts.

[Otto]

The door of the cabin opens, allowing a cold wind to creep in, fighting with the candles, a battle that in this case fire wins.
In moves a halfling; he is dressed in a dark shabby suit.

"Ah Tophrus" the captain corrects himself "My apologies, Father Tophrus!"
"Theo, this possibly is the halfer who may aid your salvation"

'How dya do Father!' I offer him my hand.
They need a bloody priest? Otto thinks. It looks like this place isn't for patsys!
'What brings you on the excursion?'

The priest smiles "Well you do, Doctor Spindle, I shall do what I can to help you and protect you from evil, for Skarathera is indeed an evil place!"
"Damn bird" retorts the Captain, as a mangy black parrot like bird hops off the charts table, dragging what looks like a piece of beef jerky.
"Shove it up yer ass" replies the parrot.

'What the beef jerky?' Otto says. 'Some buggers got to eat that!'

'What can we expect in Skarathera Father?' as Otto peers with interest at the parrot.

"Evil" replies the priest solemnly

"All sorts of shit Theo" interjects the captain "You see as Freyan said, in the early days of the Empire they drove all the goblins and ghouls out of the perfect kingdom, they had to go somewhere, the nastiest things like the living dead, diabolists that sort of deep evil ended up in Skarathera"
"Load of bollocks" interjects the parrot

'No I think I would go with what the fellas say Mr parrot!' Otto says jokingly.

'I want to create some form of ornithopter to act as a scout craft, can I look through your bits and pieces and see what I can come up with Cap'n? It will give us an edge!'
'Father I need you to be able to bless me; in a way it will benefit us all. Bless these bracers' I hold out my arms with the mechanical glyphs on them.

"Help yerself, jus don't get in the crews way"
The priest invites you to his quarters, entering the tiny cabin, which is perfectly comfortable for him but not so for you, you notice that the room is a small shrine to the chief deity of Gothica 'The Great Maker".
Anointing his symbols, the priest blesses some red wine and pours that upon your braciers.

"We shall do this daily Doctor so that the Makers blessings are with you always"

Thanking the priest you excuse yourself and make your ways downstairs to the bottom deck and the engine room.

I'll make a point of doing the daily ritual on my arms. Otto thinks as he scans the engines with an expert eye. Is there any way I can improve it? If possible I will remove a small engine from the system (with the Captains permission) that will not be missed, as I will compensate for it by transferring the load to the upgraded system.

Mechanics if 26

I'll look around for bits to make an ornithopter.

[Otto]

So you want to take a chunk otta my engine, while its still workin’'?" replies Threnshin to your idea "Bloody madness" the captain stands in a somewhat stunned state, awaiting an explanation.

Your search has been fairly fruitful; there are enough long lengths of spare metal, timber and canvass to assemble a one man ornithopter, something akin to a propelled glider.

'I can assure you Captain that the ship will operate 10 times more efficient with the modifications I'm going to make! Also this vehicle I plan to assemble will give us quite an edge if we need to get quickly in and out of the area. And I am sure we don't want to hang around for longer than we have to!' Otto exclaims.

Diplomacy of 18

Threnshin regards you for a while, "Very well Doc but the slightest glitch and your confined to your cabin!"

'Aye Sir!' Otto salutes with a grin.

Lets get to work.

Engineering of 35, Mechanics of 23

As much as you disliked your involvement with the Liveship, it gave you most of all a lot.
Firstly it gave you a reason to respect Gothica in the sense of your commitment to Goodland and Arianna; secondly your exposure to the ship enhanced your already formidable knowledge base.

It took a week to separate the necessary parts for your operation, the time largely due to having to avoid interrupting the voyage and secondly dodging the somewhat interested but understandably territorial stoker.

A remaining two weeks of braving the almost black spray of the Northern Reach (The north sea of Gothica), the Ornithopter tied down, using a bizarre setaline torch made of super-pressurised steam mixed with a few Fire and Electrical formula, ensured that at least the craft was welded together not riveted.

Rivets the very thought makes you shudder.

[Otto]

The Northern Reaches is a grim sea, thick thunder clouds seems to blanket the entire sea, meaning that everything is in perpetual grey, as a consequence the sea appears black, as if sailing upon oil, because of the thunderheads there is constantly a lashing wind.

You thank your freefall training, braving 3 gees in space combat makes a person somewhat immune to seasickness.

On the 22nd day of the voyage, the sea has become even choppier, swells breaking around jagged teeth of rock that erupt from the black waters.
Freyan joins you at the port railing, cloak wrapped around him.
"We're close, those are the beginning of the 'Dragons Narrows' " he looks out at the rocks, his pale eyes almost like moonlight, there is something haunting about Freyan, you conclude.

'Dragons Narrows, that sounds comforting!' As Otto wipes some of the salt spray from his face. 'What can we expect Freyan?'

The ship undulates between large waves, rising up and then rushing down sea walls of 20 to 30 feet. 'Thank god these waves aren't breaking yet!' He says.

Freyan ponders for a while.
"The narrows line the route into the first islands of Skarathera, however they are inhabited by beasts of the sea, huge eels and small kraken"
As if signifying the task ahead and Freyan's words, the crewmen begin to break out weapons, others begin to douse the rails and the outer hull with what appears to be grease, fires are stoked in sealed braziers that are clamped via latches to the centre of the deck.
A number of the bigger crewmen start to attach themselves to lines running from a pulley system, running along the rigging, and then dismiss the younger crewmen to below-decks.

Max I would like to put it to the captain how I could create a burnable liquid fuel which would not damage the timbers of the ship. In which the fires would burn out and would only damage people or creatures that come into contact with it. I would douse all of the liquid on the guardrails etc of the ship thus cutting off possible access onboard from the ocean.

Sounds like an attempt at Alchemy, does he have it, and I know he has chemistry.

Not Alchemy. But Alchemy was just really the olde world way of saying Chemistry!
Does that wash? ha ha ha!

Okay I'll buy it, make a Research and Chemistry test.

18 Research, 15 Chemistry

You manage to distil a potent incendiary, but it will burn wood and most materials as successfully as flesh and bone.

Ah bugger! I will also rig some traps using the ships rigging and ropes. I will let the crew know where they are. All they do is they will drag the captured man/creature harmlessly into the air on the mainsail.

Engineering of 26

You succeed, the ship heads into the fog, the crewmen put poles over the rails to push off from the teeth like rocks.
An aura of grim determination and fear settles over the boat.