Attention σ cadets: The game

This will be the game tread

You stand on the deck of your spelljamming ship, Moonraider, even as explosions obliterate two of its masts and hurl a dozen of your fellow sailors into Wildspace! Distant stars and wheeling clouds of multicolored gas spin around you as the first pirate galleon slams into Moonraider’s starboard side, and a gust of foul wind washes over you as the galleon’s air envelope merges with your own. Seconds later, your vessel is boarded by astral reavers—humanoids possessed of strange features, waving cruel weapons, and unleashing blasts of magic.

Captain Sardax lies on the deck nearby, her body ruined by shrapnel. "Hold the top deck!" she snarls with her dying breath. "Grant them no quarter!"Two astral reavers have boarded the ship. Warped by magic and gods know what, they have come satiate the urge for raid and pillage

This one holds a sword in one hand, and in the other a distorting magical ball is taking shape

This one carries a big sword and armour

Torch lets out a soft breath at the realization that the Captain is likely lost to them. They turn a hard stare to the boarding reavers.

The other crew see a person of indeterminate gender that stands about 6 feet tall, but rarely feels like an imposing presence. They are not lanky, but not brawny, but somewhere in the middle with an athletic build that has both angles and curves. Torch has warm toned skin, shoulder length Charcoal hair pulled half up, eyes lit orange from within like fire, several facial and ear piercings, and druidic clothing with bone accents on the hide armor, also of a charcoal color.

I move up to stand shoulder to shoulder... well... probably their elbow to my head?... with the minotaur. (to spot J10)
At an opening I take a deep calm breath, and cast Produce Flame to generate fire in my palm, then hurl the fire at reaver 2 with a yell.

The kid stands on the deck a giant tear rolls gently over his rich chestnut fur from the corner on his black eyes.
Well over seven foot tall the Minotaur towers over his crew mates and the longsword in his left hand looks like a toothpick in it. The scared muscles in his massive arms flex as he looks up from the body of the Captain and he hefts a large plain shield into place.
The wind blows his rich flame red mane around twin pointed horns, which are at least two feet long, that adorn the crown of his head.
"Well me buckos ye hear the Cap’n, it’s time to fight." He says with a toothy grin. He pauses only to admire Touch’s canny accuracy before charging the other Reaver.

Urrir is a aarakocra with mostly greyish-blue feathers with a white feathers around the edge of his wings. He is dressed in loose fitting clothing of of green and brown that leave plenty of room for his wings to flap. Many other races find it difficult to read expressions on a bird's face but the hatred in Urrir's attack cry is unmistakable. He nocks an arrow and looses at the reaver before him (the one in O11).

Torch casts his flame at one of the reavers, only to see it bounch off it armor.
Johnnys horn sinks deep into the soft flesh of the reaver before him but it still stands
Urrir's arrow also finds a home between the armor plates of this armoured reaver

Bruno, the ships dog, rushes to the side of the druid of offer its keg. But an explotion in the mast causes splinters to fall and Bruno runs away again. From the mast another reaver descends.



This reaver is covered in crystalline spikes that look as sharp as they look brittle.

Frug, the diminutive deep gnome, feeling the excitement of the battle, says, "I’ve heard stories about times like these! Let’s become heroes of the sea!"

He will fire an arrow at the guy that his Minotaur friend has gored with its horn.

Frug sends an arrow into the reaver and it sinks down lifeless.
A fellow sailor from another deck fires a crossbow at the new Astral reaver

Acaelia might always have been a bit out of place among the crew. A bit fancier than most, a bit more reserved, protected than most.
Always making sure she looked tip top and tweaking her outfit as far as academy regulation allowed it.
A young woman, her dark hair tidied up.

She looked in shock as she watched the captain get injured and call her last commands. She froze in place and did what her first instict called her to do. With a few words and waves of her hands a turquise colored armor of pulsating light appeared around her.

Previously moved to spot J10 on my last turn. This turn I move to K11, to flank.

I swing my quarterstaff at Reaver 2.

Urrir draws his short sword and slashes at the reaver that attacked him.

Acaelia speaks some words and points her finger at the reaver.
A flame bursts from her hand and shoots at the reaver.

Johnny’s attention is turned to the new reaver even before the last one crumbs to the deck. His hooves thud on the deck as he strides forward shield raised, toothpick like sword ready.

His back muscles flex and his chainmail strains as he strikes out, "Only lily-livered cod fight at a distance."

Frug will fire at the reaver on the deck (cell P5).

He will run up and say, "Pick on someone else!"

You slay the reavers on your deck, you see another ship glide in above you and a thunderous explosion shakes the ship, filling the air with splinters of wood. Bodies are hurled into Wildspace—and then everything stops. Wreckage hangs motionless. Reavers freeze in the middle of their attacks. Even the stars stop twinkling.

The illusion of Wildspace melts away, and you find yourselves in one of the magical chambers of the Simulations Deck, your memories slowly fitting back into place. You recall being warned that your first experience of a Wildspace simulation would be disorienting—to test your ability to function under pressure.

A hulking figure emerges from the center of the explosion: a hadozee with a missing wing flap wearing a military uniform bristling with medals. The air around her smells like cigar smoke. As you can see, Boatswain Tarto growls, the battle of H’Catha didn’t go so well for Captain Sardax and her crew. But her last battle makes a good testing ground for new recruits.

End simulation!Your memories are returning. You arrived this morning on Belligerence, a chartered galley out of Waterdeep, which picked up passengers and crew in the Moonshae Isles, Baldur’s Gate, Candlekeep, and Port Nyanzaru. You’ve come to seek fortune and glory at Spelljammer Academy: a secret enclave of spellcasters and swords-for-hire on the mysterious isle of Nimbral. Graduates from the academy join the Spelljammer Fleet, a magical navy sworn to protect Toril and explore worlds far beyond.

The academy is carved into a two-thousand-foot-high column of rock that juts up from the cliffs of the island’s west coast, its multiple levels connected by stairs, ramps, and magical lifts. After docking in a sea cave at the base of the column, you marched to the Simulations Deck midway up the academy spire. Your mettle has been tested, and now it’s time to settle in!
Listen to what I tell you; it might just save your life.

Torch: If you are to fling fire around on a wooden ship, then you have to work on your aim. You can't trust that your comrade will put our your fires and solve your problems.

Johnny Kidd. Solid fighting, but you isolated yourself.

Urrir: You have the power of flight and a strong bow. What in the bleeding cosmos were you doing on the ground?! The atmospheric bubble extends well over the masts. Make that bubble yours!

Frug: Good work

Now lady Acaelia Talmost, the reavers will not wait for you to put up your hair and hang your spells. They will rape you to death, eat your flesh and sow your skin into their clothing. And if you are very very lucky, they'll do it in that order. You better be battle ready when battle starts!

Questions?! She asks in a stern voice.

Frug pants, and after the flood of adrenaline and sweat and the smells of broken wood and fire subsided, Frug’a determined look turns to an excited smile.

He can’t contain the rush he felt while in that situation, and he knows that he came to the right place. This is the place where he will find adventure in the high seas.

The simple praise from the boatswain makes him swell with pride. He stands at attention, listening for any follow-up orders from his superior officers.

His mind starts to wander, and I imagines and mentally visualizes a new move he wants to try against a real enemy: he wants to slide between an enemy’s legs and slice them from underneath, and then run off without getting assaulted by that same enemy.

Torch stands at attention at the appearance of the Boatswain. At the mention of her name she perks, only to be filled with frustration at the criticism, all the while recognizing the kernel of truth. Torch was certainly NOT expecting others to clean up her messes. She was expecting to land a hit… but the ship was wood, and she knows well how destructive she can be. She listens to the rest, staring at the Boatswain’s boots, processing, flickering like a flame, becoming determined to learn as much as possible.