AD&D 1e Actual Play: Chapter 1, Part 1

In the Hold of the Gloamtide

Five days. Five days the good folk of Broadcove languished in the stinking, moldy hold of the pirate vessel known as the Gloaming Tide. Five days of misery, abuse, and fear. Five days and any hope of escape lay dead at the bottom of the sea. The prisoners, shackled to bunks of stout timber, wept or rocked back and forth. Only five of these pitiable souls retained their heads, and, despite the fear that gnawed at their bones like the cold wind blowing through the portholes on either side of their prison, they plotted escape. 

Bertram¹, a young man of great stature, spent much of his time tugging—fruitlessly—at the iron manacles connected to the beams of the bunk by rusty chains. Despite the rippling muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders, the big man made no headway against them. Poppy², a slight woman, with flaming red hair and fierce blue eyes, scolded him for wasting his strength. She was accustomed to hardship, being the daughter of Broadcove’s shepherding family and spending much of her time following the flocks across moor and hillock in the ever present need for grazing, but the bitter cold, and incessant rocking of the ship on the waves threatened to make her vomit what little remained in her stomach.

The married couple, Arthur³ and Blanche⁴, also remained calm despite the predicament. Arthur now bore the lacerations and bruises of a severe beating meted out by the pirate warden, a half-orc called Hafkris, when he attempted to harangue the pirate for speaking obscenities at Blanche. The young cook stayed firm, despite his wounds, and reached as far below him as possible to graze the tips of his wife’s fingers. The beating happened two days previous, and Hafkris had not returned to terrorize the prisoners since. Another pirate, a halfling by the look of him, delivered stale bread and dirty water once, sometimes twice, a day. 

The rocking of the ship had become increasingly more erratic since Hafkris’ last visit, and the wind howled like wolves through the portholes, bringing biting cold rain, the boom of thunder and the crash of lightning into the hold. Screams and cries of panic accompanied the growling orders of the pirate captain—a sea dwarf with pockmarked skin burnt bronze by many years exposed to sun and sea-wind.   

When the ironbound door slammed open and Hafkris stepped inside, meaty hand gripping the hilt of his broadsword, the prisoners quailed. Some began to weep loudly, still others cursed and hurled insults at the pirate. Instead of taking his belt to them as he had Arthur, the insane pirate smirked, revealing several teeth filed sharp alongside the two prominent tusks. 

“Gerrup, ye louts. All of ye,” he commanded, sweeping his hand to indicate the bulk of the prisoners. “Time to put yerselfs to use.”

Three other pirates, including the halfling who delivered their victuals, swarmed into the room. They unhooked the prisoners from their bed-cells and chained them together, forming a line. Hafkris ordered the group of prisoners out of the hold and, when the line had passed out of the door, turned back to the remaining prisoners.

“Ye’ll be needed soon ‘nough. Don’t be gettin’ comfort-like.” With a maniacal grin, the hulking pirate slammed the door shut. 

Bertram, Poppy, Blanche, and Arthur were left alone in the hold. The sounds of screaming continued, accompanied by the sounds of violent nature and the crack of whips. Bertram renewed his efforts to free himself, but to no avail. Poppy harangued Bertram to save his energy, and, as night fell, the four attempted to sleep. 

No one was sure how long they slept, though Blanche said she slept not at all, when the ship lurched and a monstrous crash shook the vessel. The sounds of grating and grinding timbers resounded throughout the hold, accompanied by the crack and accompanying thud of something heavy collapsing on the main deck. The prisoners were thrown forward from the sudden cessation of forward momentum, though their chains held them safely to their bunks. What felt like an hour of activity passed in mere moments and all sound, save that of the storm outside and the crashing of waves against the hull of the ship, ceased. 

“What happened?” Poppy asked.

“I think,” Arthur began, sitting up and trying to look through the nearby porthole. “We have run aground.”

Bertram grunted. “Sounds right. Pretty sure the crash on the main deck was the mast breaking.” 

The big butcher groaned under the renewed effort to free himself from his fetters, and, with only a little exertion, managed to rip the chains free of the timbers. He swung himself off the bed and looked around at his companions, giving Polly a lop-sided grin. 

“Told ya, I could break ‘em.”

“Oaf,” Poppy scoffed, but smiled back at the big man. “How about you get the rest of us out of these chains.”

Bertram grasped one of the chains holding Poppy to the bed and strained, but the chains didn’t budge. He tried again, and again, to no effect.

“How about the keys?” a quiet voice asked. 

Bertram and Poppy, who were closest to the center of the hold, looked in the direction of the voice. Half hidden beneath a holey sackcloth blanket the two spotted a blonde woman, no older than twenty. She was peering out from beneath the blanket, watching the exchange between the giant Bertram and the diminutive Polly. 

“What keys?” Bertram asked.

“There, by the door,” the stranger replied. 

Bertram looked and, to his surprise, discovered that the woman was correct. An iron keyring hung from a peg by the door. Without another word, the butcher strode across the hold and grasped the key. He unlocked the manacles on his wrists and let them fall with a clatter to the deck. He wasted no time in freeing his companions, and the unknown woman, from their own binds. 

“We should move,” Arthur said. “The warden might come back at any time.”⁵

Fate Check (CF5): Does the party agree with Arthur? Likely (+1) on 2d10 = 19 > exceptional yes

Bertram and Poppy nodded in agreement, while Blanche slid her arm through her husband’s and squeezed his forearm. The big butcher hefted one of the chains that held him to the bunk and wrapped it around his fist. 

The ship’s hold outside of the prison cell was filled with barrels, crates, and sacks. Most of the barrels were ruptured, spewing their contents—a dark, almost blood-like liquid—across the decking. All of the nearby sacks were soaked with the liquid, which Blanche identified as wine. Arthur thrust his finger into a rip in one of the sacks and pulled out a grain of fine wheat. Bertram ripped off the lid of one of the crates to discover bruised and partially rotting fruits. 

The fore and aft holds of the pirate galley, Gloamtide. ©2024, Eric Dill.

“There’s nothing here of use to us. The pirates must have had a buyer for the wine and grain, but these fruits look like they’ve been here for a long time,” Bertram said.

Fate Check (CF6): Does the party search the hold for gear? 50/50 (+1 for CF6) on 2d10 = 12, yes

Specific Character Oracle: Which PC will go to the hole in the hull first? d4 = 3, Poppy

Poppy, ignoring the cargo, moved across the hold to the gaping hole in the hull of the ship. Splintered timbers littered both the deck and the water below, where they bumped against the hull or the rocks upon which the ship crashed.  On the beach, not far from the ship, Hafkris the warden tottered and stumbled up and down the rocky shore holding an amber bottle in each hand. 

“Come and see,” Poppy whispered to the others, who came quickly to her side.

“The oaf is drunk,” Arthur noted. “We should get away from here before he sobers up and comes back.” 

“I want to give that git a piece of my mind,” Blanche growled.

“He might be drunk, but he’s still armed,” Arthur countered, patting his wife’s shoulder. “We should try to avoid him.”

“I agree with Blanche,” Bertram whispered. “These pirates killed our people, ransacked our village. They must pay.” 

“I don’t like to agree with this big oaf,” Poppy said, punching Bertram’s bulging bicep. “But he’s right. If we don’t end him now, he’ll just hunt us down when he’s sober.” 

“Fine, I’ll go along with it, but we need weapons. Anything is better than our fists against his armor,” Arthur relented. “Look for anything you can swing.”

Fate Check (CF6): Does the party want to confront Hafkris? 50/50 (+1 for CF6) on 2d10 = 18, exceptional yes

Bertram holds up his chain wrapped fist, and the others scatter in search of anything to use as a weapon. After a few moments, they return to the hole in the ship with various lengths of timber. 

“How should we do this?” Arthur asked.

“If we can get close to him without being seen, we can turn surprise to our advantage,” Poppy said. “See those boulders?”

Hafkris’s Stumble, with Pencil & Micron Pens. ©2024 Eric Dill

The shepherd pointed toward three massive boulders positioned around the area that Hafkris had set up a crate seat and a pile of rum bottles. “We get to them before he comes back and when he’s not paying attention, we strike.”

“As sound a plan as any,” Blanche agreed. “Let’s go while he’s moving away from us.”

1. Bertram [HP6, AC10, 14S, 10D, 7C, 11I, 10W, 15Ch] is a zero level normal man (a butcher by trade).

2. Poppy [HP5, AC10, 6S, 11D, 12C, 6I, 9W, 9Ch] is a zero level normal woman (a shepherd by trade).

3. Arthur [HP6, AC10, 13S, 10D, 9C, 14I, 10W, 12Ch] is a zero level normal man (a cook by trade).

4. Blanche [HP4, AC10, 9S, 14D, 13C, 17I, 14Ch] is a zero level normal woman (an innkeeper by trade)

5. For questions about what the PCs would do as a group, I will be using the Fate Check from Mythic Game Master Emulator 2e. Unlike the Fate Chart, which uses d% to determine the answer to questions based on Chaos Factor and the likelihood of a yes answer, the Fate Check makes use of 2d10 and numerical modifiers based on Chaos Factor and likelihood, for results between -7 and 25. An eleven or higher is a yes, while results of 18+ are exceptional yes. Ten and under is a no, while results of 2-4 are an exceptional no. I will not be using Mythic to generate random events since I am playing the module mostly as written.