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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

"Oi, small-cunt, he's right, dem keys be held by the Cap'n." Marco told Daugo.
"I don't think there's anything down here to help pick the locks. And if we try to pick each one..." Dean said, not needig to finish. It would require a tremendous amount of effort, time, and fortune for them to successfully unlock even nine prisoners without being noticed. The storm had occupied the crew, fortunately, for most of the time but eventually one was bound to snoop on what they were doing.

"Fack-me nuggets an' call me, Hilda. He's gonna have ta go snatch 'em." Marco said.
Daugo had a choice. Rummage for something to use to pick the locks in the empty barrels or on the floor of the hull, or, attempt to go above and find the keys in the Captain's Quarters.
 
"how bout u find something to pick the locks and while des here will pick them you sneak up and grab those keys?"
((Best plan 10/10))
 
Daugo bites his lip, looking worried; this is probably the riskiest thing he's ever done. "You're right, Iver. Fuck, why do I have to be the only Hobbit here...?"
He pokes around inside a few barrels for something, anything to help Deslan do his thing, but, regardless of whether he found it or not, he would try to go outside after five minutes or so.
 
Grimnir looks at all of them with a weird eye, and confused.

"Why the fock do we need keys, these rusted bindings will go down if anything hits it really, get a hammer, or whatever."
 
The floor was visibly empty. The slavers kept it that way and made sure anything that fell down the grates was quickly retrieved. The first barrel of many was filled with swarmy starved bilge rats;  the second, polluted water; the third, a slosh of decaying fish food; the fourth, empty; the fifth, more rats; the sixth and so on. Nothing that they could use.

Just before Daugo was about to head up one of the slaves, Calvi, called to him, quietly, "Ey, I've been hiding this for a while. Make sure you don't break it," He reveals a coppery hair pin. "Here." He hadn't it to Daugo and motioned for him to unlock his own chains. "I'll help yer friends out once ye release me. Family don't leave family behind. And yer all my family." How would Daugo pick the lock?
 
Daugo may or may not have picked one or two locks back in his less-than-honourable days, but the truth of the matter was that he didn't remember how to do it.
"Er... A bit of guidance, Deslan?"
 
"just give deslen the Damm thing and he will pick his own lock while u go upstairs and grab something to remove our chains" he told the Hobbit. "Do you want an expert lockpicker to open Yar chains or a shaking Hobbit with no experience at all" he whispered angrily toward the man.
 
The Hobbit glares at Iver for a second, before going over to where Deslan is seated. "Knock yourself out. I'm in no mood to get myself killed dead by those ruffians over by the captain's quarters. Deslan, unlock your chains first, then Grimnir's, then Calvi's. Sorry," he says, turning towards the latter, "but it makes more sense this way."
 
"wise choice, I'm not sure who will kill you first if you tried to do it yourself and break it with Yar lack of experience"
 
Deslan takes the pin in a quick movement and is already working on the locks. He quickly opens his wrist and leg cuffs, feels his hands and leans on the wall to match the hobbit's height. ''The pin will get knobbly and odd with a few other locks'' Deslan states. ''I'm not going to free muscles of steel and hair first: I want the quick-footed and stealthy. You'll go upstairs with them and look for the keys, or something perfectly feasible as a lockpick.'' He turns and glares towards the slaves, which did hear him. ''No revenge business up there. Just take picks or/and the keys. Who's the best at stealth, here?''
 
On Deslan's left a soft voice coughed, "Me." It was Celeste, Dimitri's hoe. One of the reasons Dimitri had come to the mental state he was currently in, was due to her, which to some may be seen as a positive effect but to Deslan, it soured his friend and made him more psychotic with all this 'heeby jeebies ju ju friendship' nonsense that diluted his brain.

A few hands raised and some called out, "Here, Sam's quick." Four slaves, the slinkiest and seemingly smallest of the hull crew raised their hands, among them Sam, Dean's brother, and fellow Gondorian soldier.
"Got it. No killing, Sam said, understanding the situation, "We retrieve the keys or find some picks." He nodded at Deslan and Daugo.

Above them the storm did not cease and rain continued to be swept in, creating even larger pools. The ship wobbled and creaked. They needed to hurry before the hull started to flood.

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"Hurry up, this lad is becoming all wet." Grimnir looks at himself and then at Sigeric, "And that Imposter over there is wetting his pants, by Durin's name, free me, it's reaching me!".
 
Deslan leaned on Daugo, reaching Celeste first, then Sam next. If the pin was still in good shape, he would tell Grimnir and Sigeric to play ''rock, paper, scissors'' to see who gets freed. If not, he'd just motion the trio of burglars to get moving while he crawled around the room looking for something useful, their belongings, makeshift lockpicks or an improvised a walking stick.
 
"Let us get moving, then," says Daugo, speaking to Sam and Celeste. By Hobbit-standards, he was rather clumsy and not very discrete, but even a loud Hobbit is vastly quieter than most Men can ever dream to be. Daugo climbs the ladder, and tries the metal grate between them and the World, always paying close attention to the sounds coming from above, and trying as best he could to hold on to the wet rungs with weakened limbs.
 
The pick was able to be used once more before breaking beyond repair. Only one more person could be released from the thirty-eight prisoners. Deslan, on inspection of the hull, found the barrels full of turd, fish guts and rats to be of no use. There were no belongings or makeshift walking sticks...unless...one of the empty barrels, if broken could provide wooden planks to use for walking and perhaps even as blunt weapons. Maybe he could use them to smash the locks like Grimnir had said.

The hatch opened, held up by Daugo. The slavers never expected them to escape their chains so, lazily, they never locked the hatch considering they used it on a daily basis. Above him the sky was grey and dark, rain droplets descended upon Daugo like daggers falling from the heavens and he felt the cold drops trickle down his back and drench his clothes. Celeste was below him and then Sam who waited at the bottom of the ladder.
"What do you see?" Called up Celeste.

If Daugo peaked over the edge he would see the stern of the ship and the large quarterdeck as well as a most glorious scene. The slavers were struggling, some were flopping over the deck as waves surged up and others were manning ropes and holding stations along the mizenmast. The sails fluttered in the howling gales dropping a screaming sailor overboard and into the abyss. Daugo could see dozens of crew packed attempting to keep the ship afloat, so distracted by the storm that they paid no heed to the raising of the grate and opening of the hatch. The rain, winds, thunder, and seas provided the most excellent of covers for the trio, yet they also hindered them. Making it from the hatch to the quarterdeck would be a challenge. There were obstacles such as barrels, timber latched down, scorpions and other objects that cluttered the passage which could be used as additional cover to mask their approach. The Captain's Quarters were slightly obscured by these, yet, Daugo could make out that the door was shut with the storm brewing and could view oil lamps lighting up the inner room through wet windows.

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"For the last bloody time, I'm not a bloody imposter. Are you deaf? Do you simply enjoy being delusional? And I don't think you would be the most effective against the pirates, as you claim. Especially with your constant seasickness. The most you could do would be to vomit all over them."

Sigeric turned to Deslan. "I recommend you free Margoz or I. I mean no offense to Durin's folk as a whole, but Dwarves aren't known for stealth."
 
The whole time this event had happened Elodrins mouth had been shocked, slightly reconizing the pain in his shoulder. In fact he was furious. His silence this time wasn't one of shame or tiredness but of fury, for three months we were stuck on the slavers ship while Daugo could of escaped earlier. However, he would hold it in for now. He would turn to Deslan "I would recommend you free men, Dimitri, Grimnif, or one of the other stronger prisoners so they could bash open the other locks with force. Then we will wait here for you to return with keys and if possible weapons. When it's all settled we can storm the ship or wait till things quietened down and jump the next man who comes to free us. THEN, we storm the ship."
 
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