Nhati sees Grud the Orc standing up to punishment, and the mook going after Reijo. She sighs; she really didn't want anybody to end up dead as a part of a bar brawl, but she was beginning to think that she too would have to resort to lethal options.
For the time being, she tries to avoid that. She attempts to maneuver herself so that she can orient the remaining mook in a 15-foot cone in front of her, without including Rejio. If she can do so, she will cast a color spray attempting to take down the remaining mook.
Tai the Parrot Familiar, meanwhile, flaps up and roosts on one of the rafters above, watching the melee.
Bellamy staggered up to Mook 1, drawing his sap behind his back.
"Look! A distraction!" He shouted, pointing to one side with one hand.
With his other hand, he swung his sap; really hoping to hit his Flat footed armor class.
for a possible nonlethal bludgeoning damage.
Believing himself to have just performed an act of derring-do, Reijo finishes off the wooden support beam with a thrust of his half eaten banana.
Grud 24/37 (24 NL) (Shaken 0 round)
Mook1 9/19 (19 NL, 10 rollover lethal) Uncon.
Mook2 19/19 (Frightened for 3 rounds!)
Mook3 19/19 (Uncon for 5 rounds)
At the end of his flourish and with the thrust of his banana, Reijo empties the contents of his mug in the general direction of Grud. Ale ends up all over everyone - but no one seems all that bothered by it.
Except, of course, Grud - who is only growing more furious by the second.
Bellamy makes an effort to distract the thug that still stands, after a remarkably effective misdirection, the attack misses entirely. The brute, however, wants nothing to do with the fight - and takes off running for the far corner of the room. Ol' Salty ties to do something similar with Grud, but the orc quickly sidesteps the older man's attack.
Nhati, unable to get a clear shot on the fleeing mook or Grud without potentially blinding a friend, holds back from unleashing another blast of magic.
Round 4 Start:
Ini Order
"I git yeeee..." The drunken sailor attempts to roundhouse the support beam with his snorkel. But instead, he misses, twirls around, nearly hits the retreating orc, continues twirling, and lands a blow onto the floor... as he dizzily tumbles forward onto his butt.
"Shhhun ov'a..." It then takes Reijo some time to stand back up, huffing and puffing as he makes the precarious attempt.
Sunny swings out at the felling Grud as the fellow barrels past her.
And is satisfied with feeling a good thump on him as he goes by. (^_^)
Grud 24/37 (24 NL)
Mook1 9/19 (19 NL, 10 rollover lethal) Uncon.
Mook2 16/19 (Frightened for 2 rounds!)
Mook3 19/19 (Uncon for 4 rounds)
As the standing mook runs, Suny gives the orc a quick thump on the back of the head. Hardly even noticing, he bolts for the far end of the room and throws an interceding table between himself and the fight. Whatever Ol' Salty did to the poor man, he's sure not taking it well.
Quickly jumping to surround Grud with Viktorra, Suny's naked antics have only served to inflame Grud's anger. The orc snarls more like a beast than a man, throwing a wild fist in her direction. With a quick duck, she easily dodges his fist... directly into the oncoming sucker punch behind it. It catches Suny firmly in the gut, knocking the air out of her.
"Ooof!" As she staggers away...
"Oy! Fisher git in 'ere" yelled Ol' Salty to his sleeping otter. "Can't ye see I'm in need of some 'elp? Git ready, if this doesn't work, I'm gonna need you to hit this fool for me."
As Lil' Fisher begins drunkly swimming to Ol' Salty, the old man yells "Quit with the swimmin ok? I need ya teh take this seriously!"
The swirling liquid vortex remaining on his hand, Ol' Salty tries again to smack the orc in the chest.
"Ye coward! Neva' run away fro' a fight!"
She lashes out with her rapier, attempting to end the coward's flight.
As for her actual turn, she'll give another swing towards Grud.
Grud 13/37 (24 NL)
Mook1 9/19 (19 NL, 10 rollover lethal) Uncon.
Mook2 8/19 (Frightened for 2 rounds!)
Mook3 19/19 (Uncon for 4 rounds)
Salty's efforts to knock Grud down fail as the orc remains wholly focused on the two women before him.
Viktorra takes a quick shot at the fleeing orc before turning her blade on Grud. Despite the orc's best efforts to parry away the attack with an unarmed block, he ends up with a rather long cut across his chest. Bleed seeps through his shirt as the man snarls and grits his teeth - once more turning his efforts to Viktorra instead of Suny.
Bellamy wobbled up to flank Grud holding his sap behind his back.
"Look! Another distraction!" He shouted, pointing to one side with one hand.
With his other hand, he swung his sap; really hoping to hit his Flat footed armor class.
for a possible nonlethal bludgeoning damage.
Suny, feeling her ills now, simply staggers over and plops down on a bench.
"I... dun feel so good... " :(
When Nhati sees Suny taking lethal damage from the orc, she decides that the time to be merciful has past. The orc needs to be made into not a threat, and soon. Hopefully they can avoid killing him, but the bar brawl has turned nasty, and it's better to end such a fight fast.
"Hey! Ugly!" she says, holding up her hands. A searing ray of heat blisters forth from her fingers and shoots towards Gurd. Unfortunately, her aim is off, and the ray shoots out harmlessly into the air beyond, dissipating.
Seeing the flames miss the orc and come close to Bellamy and Viktorra, the drunken sailor cackles and coughs, "Roashhhtin' ole Blindey an' Laddie Lass, eh? Hah! Hah!" * cough, cough * "Hah! Hah!" * cough, cough, cough *
This gives the drunk a bad idea. A very bad idea...
Finding and hanging over a three-quarters full bottle of some kind of high proof cocktail, he smirks widely as he stuffs in a ripped piece of thin cloth. He then attempts to bring out his flint and steel, and actually manages to bring out the correct item this time. Most unfortunately so, as he begins to light up his fiery cocktail... eyeballing the orc with a glazed, sinister-looking wide smirking expression...
"Bbb... I be bbb...blowin' Orky t' shhhmithersss.. shhhmertherssshhhreensss. Heh! Heh!" *cough, cough, cough *
"Why won't ye go down, ya bloody orc?!"
Vik angrily lashes out yet again, trying to finish this fight.
Grud 13/37 (26 NL)
Mook1 9/19 (19 NL, 10 rollover lethal) Uncon.
Mook2 8/19 (Frightened for 2 rounds!)
Mook3 19/19 (Uncon for 4 rounds)
When Viktorra lashes out at him once more, Grud grits his teeth and jumps towards her, lashing out at her with a wild punch. The man's fist connects with her stomach and all of its lovely liquid contents. Suddenly all of that drinking was not such a wise idea anymore.
As Suny dips out of the fight and plops down onto a bench, the table behind her sizzles and explodes into a shower of burning splinters as Nhati's scorching ray zips past the fight and into the nearest highly combustible object.
Reijo crawls past on the floor just below the magical attack, eagerly picking up fallen bottles of alcohol in seach of one that has enough. After drinking the last contents of one of the bottles, he finds a suitable bottle of imported Chelish booze (and, importantly, not one of those silly Chelish wines). He quickly stuffs the end of his shirt into the top of the bottle and stands, proud of his creation. He turns towards the battle, ready to use his masterfully crafted explosive, and spots Bellamy creeping up behind Grud.
As the blind man yells, Grud pauses, turns halfway towards Bellamy as though to find the source of the yelling, and ends up turning directly into the oncoming sap. The sound of the club against the orc's hard head gave a resounding thud as the tavern brawler coughed up a mouthful of blood and spittle, his eyes burning in rage before glazing over and sending the man to the ground.
Beaten and blooded and rather pissed - Grud was finally down. Elsewhere in the tavern, most of the folks who had joined into a good-natured parody of the barfight have also wound down. Cailean's Keg is a little more messy than it was when you arrived... but most people probably couldn't tell the difference anyway.
Ol' Salty releases the water swirling around his hand letting it fall onto the floor. He then goes over to the elf and hands her his patchwork cloak.
"Ya really ain't got 'ny shame, do ya?" said Ol' Salty with a grin.
"'ere, have this teh cover yourself, and this for the wounds."
Ol' Salty places his hand on Suny's head and a faint glow emanates for a brief moment. Then Suny's wounds feel a little better.
As Suny dips out of the fight and plops down onto a bench, the table behind her sizzles and explodes into a shower of burning splinters as Nhati's scorching ray zips past the fight and into the nearest highly combustible object.
"EEEK!" Suny squeals and flings herself away from the nasty, burning fiery stuffs....
Managing to both get them away from the exploding burnin-ation while leaving them in a tumbled tangle some where else upon the floor.
Suny clings, shivering, to Viktorra eyes screwed shut in terror. (>_<)
Edit: Still shivering slightly Suny blinks, looking around even as she continues to cling protectively (Or seeking protection) around the form of Viktorra.
As Ol`Salty drapes his cloak defensively over her bruised, gashed and almost deep-fried form, Suny offers him a smile of thanks in return for protecting herself from the flaming doom which almost over came herself but a few moments before.
As his soothing magic washes over Suny sighs in response and snuggles closer to her protector.
"Whut's 'shame'.. an' why is havin' some gooder...?" She whispers, now seemingly sleepy after the effects of all the excitement and ruckus is dying down....
Bellamy turned his head this way and that, arm cocked back to swing again.
"Did I get 'im?"
Not realizing the fight is over, and not realizing that he tucked his own shirt into the bottle, the drunken sailor is about to light himself on fire when, to his drunken delight, he sees the naked elf tackle Viktorra.
Smirking widely, the shameless man points and then hustles over nearer to the two ladies with depraved glee. "Oi!" he exclaims to no apparent person in particular while compulsively staring at the ladies, "Git'em shhhome mud t'wreshhhle in! Thishh be a fine shhhow, it be!"
Reijo then downs the bottle of Chelish booze in his hand. "WOOOO!" he hollers as he throws his emptied bottle at the wall. Smiling even wider, his eyes cross, and then...
* thud! *
...Reijo falls onto his back like a felled tree. He smacks down on the hard wood floor with a loud thud, still smiling. Snoring ensues...
"Hmm," Nhati says. "I've seen a bar brawl or two at a festival of the Drunken Hero before, but this guy seemed nastier than most. What was he all about?"
Tai, her parrot familiar, stays safely up in the rafters observing the proceedings.
"Local blowhard," Anyabwile sighs as he grabs a mop. It's evident from the man's face this is not the first time this has happened. With the Rum Punch festival in town, it's probably not the last either. "Someone inevitably sticks it to 'im every time, but it doesn't stop him from making a helluva mess."
"What can I say?" Duwella chimes in, passing a bucket of water to the two men trying to quell the smoldering table in the corner. "I like a good bar fight! The Lucky Drunk knows it's all in good fun, and the damages ain't so bad I don't mind turning half a blind eye so's a good, honest brawl can git goin'. Well, mostly. Not sure ol' Grud ever got that note about honest - but then, maybe that's why he always loses!" She gives a deep bellied laugh, and several of the patrons join in. In moments, the atmosphere of the Keg is back to what it was.
"Really, though," Anyabwile continues, "your help is much appreciated. I'll see what we can do about givin' you lot a proper reward for helping out 'round Rum Punch! And really, after all this, I'd be downright insulted if you folks didn't join us for the night's festivities."
"Zzzzzzz....."
Nhati says, "As for a reward..."
She looks at the smouldering table she hit with her scorching ray.
"...if you overlook what I did to that table, that'll be enough! And I will be back for the night's festivities, but I think I need a walk in the fresh air to work off some of that grog I tasted earlier. Does anybody want to join me?"
Tai flies down from the rafters and settles on her shoulder. "I will," the parrot says in Polyglot.
"Well, that's good," Nhati says. "Anybody else?"
Viktorra looks down at the elf, and asks, "Do ye still need healing, lass? Look, it's alrigh' now. The mean orc is down for good."
She places a hand on Suny's shoulder, and converts Bull's Strength into a Curr Moderate.
Ol' Salty will step forward.
"I'd be glad teh join ye, Nhati, but yer gonna half to keep it slow. Me ol' bones ain't a smooth goin after a fight like that. Care teh 'elp an ol' man?"
Ol' Salty motions to have Nhati take his arm... for stability purposes of course.
Viktorra looks down at the elf, and asks, "Do ye still need healing, lass? Look, it's alrigh' now. The mean orc is down for good."
She places a hand on Suny's shoulder, and converts Bull's Strength into a Cure Moderate.
Suny brightens immensely with the aid of Viktorra's soothing presence. (^_^)
"I got bonk-ed! On'a head!" She points to her blond mop, "An' they's done sliced me!" Suny again indicates the faint line now left after Viktorra's magic has worked its charms even as Suny gives a little 'squee' of happiness and rewards Viktorra with a fierce hug of thanks, leaving linked arms as the pair walk towards where ever it is that Viktorra wishes to go.
Along the way Suny is full of questions.
"Whut's that place? Whut's them? Whut's them other things? Why's them pretty ladies on'a balcony wavin' they's coloured ribbons at us?" Suny happily waves back. (^_^)
Along the way Suny takes a small detour to the wharves, where she initially borrows some rope before continuing to the end of the pier and tying said rope off. Then she hands her new garment to Viktorra before simply diving off the pier, disappearing into the waters below....
... After ten minutes or so Suny climbs back up the rope, then proceeds to pull up a small chest tied now tied to the end of said rope. After quickly shaking herself dry, Suny drapes Salt'ys cloak about her tanned shoulders again, hands the rope back to its owner and -with Viktorra's help- carries the chest to where ever it is Viktorra has decided to spend the coming evening.
Once at said establishment, Viktorra and any others, easy note the various barnacles and other ocean...things... scattered about the chest's surface.
Suny proceeds to place said chest upon a table and crack the seal of wax about its edge. Upon opening the small, still damp, box the contents are revealed to be pretty much every thing Suny seems to own. A good amount being many and varied coinage.... With many of the coins showing also having slight evidence of once being submerged.
Suny proceeds to count out how ever much 'Shine', as she puts it, onto the table top to cover her expenses for the night. Only occasionally stopping to scrape the worst of the verdigris off the coins that need it. Very few of the coins are even of the same minting... or country...
"I can be helpin' fix me way with me own shine!" She states proudly to Viktorra. (^_^)
"You be a strange lass, Suny." Vik says after they arrive at said inn.
She also pulls out what coin she has, noting it isn't much (3 gp).
Nhati offers Ol' Salty a sidelong glance and a half-cocked smile. "I can go slowly... for an old man, of course," she says, with a wry tone. "Just remember that I'm but a delicate woman, a jungle flower myself, after all!"
She'll offer Ol' Salty an arm and lead him -- slowly -- around town to take in the sights, and do a little shopping if necessary.
"You be a strange lass, Suny." Vik says after they arrive at said inn. She also pulls out what coin she has, noting it isn't much (3 gp).
Suny has a good amount of 'shine' and doesn't mind sharing it with her friend. At Viktorra's comment Suny seems at first surprised... then puzzled... before working something out and exclaiming brightly,
"Ah! Ye dun't un'erstand m'selfs... Jus' like I dun't un'erstand a lot of whut t'is people folks is bin doin'!" (^_^)
"That's bin why I come lookin' at tha' world. Ta' learn all'a 'bout people's stuffs an' things."Suny nods enthusiastically. Spending the evening with Viktorra both telling stories of Suny's island home life while listening to Viktorra's talk of how she's been experiencing life amongst the people of the islands/lands here abouts. (^_^)
Edit: Suny happily/gladly thanks Viktorra for borrowing one of her shirts to wear, though the tanned Elf still doesn't quite seem to grasp a lot of the aspects of 'clothing'. Arm linked with Vktorra, Suny happily skips off to experience the night's festivities. (^_^)
Come the morning Suny rises early and happily skips about town looking at all the things there is to see. Wearing a patch work seeming skirt and a new shirt.
While waiting for the fun to start, Viktorra will listen to Suny's stories, and give back a few of her own.
Definitely resting, trying to prepare for the activities that may or may not happen at tonight's festival.
As the Keg tries to put itself back together, Ol' Salty takes a glance out the window, pondering how best to spend the rest of the afternoon.
The port of Lilywhite is booming because of the festival. While normally the shops and traders do a reasonable business, the town is abustle with much, much more business than usual. You figure you could find pretty much anything you might need - clerical services, smithies plying their wares, alchemists and their... things. And, of course, there's a plethora of food and drink to go around. Stalls have been set up all along the streets and paths offering food from all across the Inner Sea. And, of course, the cliff divers are not to be forgotten. Climbing to the highest reaches of Lilywhite's rocky shores, they've been diving off into the sea to impress onlookers and win bets all day.
"Ah! This'll do" Duwella calls out from behind the bar, hefting the golden stein above her head. "Now technically speakin', this was fer breaking the drinking record. But we can always get another one of these - I think you folks have earned it. You're practically the stars of this Rum Punch!" She laughs, setting the prize before you. The gem-encrusted stein glistens in the light. "You'll just have to share it. Pass it around, or what have you. Cayden'd be proud!"
Ol' Salty will want to spend most of his time in the company of fine music and foods. He'd like to chat with Nhati, if she wishes, and if not he will busy himself with his journal. He is a man of simple tastes, and has more fun people watching than being one to dive off a cliff. For obvious reasons.
Lil' Fisher, on the other hand can't sit still with all the celebrations going on. He will dance, swim, laugh, play, and eat to his heart's desire.
"That there be quite teh treasure, miz Duwella. I thank ye most generously indeed. Mayhaps me new 'cquaintances would like teh see it."
If he comes across any of the companions, Ol' Salty will show the gem-encrusted stein and offer it to them. Although he'd be glad to keep it, Ol' Salty believes that treasure isn't merely gold and silver.
As the night draws closer and consciousness slowly returns to the majority of the revelers, preparations for the Rum Punch Festival's famous parade are being made at the lumberyard on the shoreside of Lilywhite's inner harbor. Banners, booze, and mock weapons are strewn across the town as the festival prepares for the ritual reenactment of the events that started Rum Punch.
Anyabwile spots your group staggering into Taryn's Planks and waves you over. Despite his comically large festival mask, you're sure he has a wide grin beneath it. "You made it! Great! Honestly, I was a bit worried you'd all sleep through the parade. Especially a certain someone," he adds, with a tip of his mask towards Reijo. "I hope you've all been enjoying the festivities. We do only do this once a year. Gotta make it count, and all that."
He laughs, greeting others as they stumble, stagger, meander, and sometimes crawl into the workplace-turned-festival-grounds. As the sun creeps towards the horizon, it seems as though the whole of Lilywhite as come out to the event. People stand shoulder to shoulder, singing and dancing (often poorly) in anticipation of the parade. "It'll just be a bit," Anyabwile says, elbowing Viktorra playfully. "Can't see the fireworks too well if'n it's still daytime, right? In the meantimes... shall I recount the tale of Rum Punch for you all?"
Some sense restored after his nap, Reijo wanders the inner harbor by himself after taking a dip in the ocean to, uhm, clean himself up after binge drinking. Let's just say, alcohol sure does make you urinate a lot, and Reijo drank a LOT of alcohol... As he walks, he grumpily scorns the festive young fools, and mutters under his breath what he's wondering...
"How'n th'bloody 'ells dids me get 'ere?!" For prior to waking up all soggy and inside of a broken crate with a small monkey using his head as a comfy chair (?), among the last things Reijo recalls is winning some kind of drinking contest. A contest which some kind of trophy chalice was not awarded him as promised. Which he intends to return for, Bloody might be werth a fortune... if only he could recall the place. And he also seems to recall something about two naked wenches mud wrestling with a big mud monster. Which of course is only partially true, though it's all the more motivating for him to remember where that dang place is...
The grimacing sailor eventually spots a few hazily familiar faces as he roams, especially recognizing his old blind mate Bellamy. He approaches the group, intent on questioning them. Well, he is wondering what in the bloody seven seas all the ruckus is about. For nobody told him about the parade tonight...
"Zzzzzzz......."
But he's more inclined to ask them where that tavern was that owes him a big trophy. "Oi! Ye lot! Whar th'bloody..."
And it is at this point that the masked Anyabwile approaches, giving the sailor pause in mid-sentence. After the pleasantly jovial host speaks, Reijo responds in the grumpy demeanor the group has begun to know and not love so much, "Me ain't be givin' a bilge rat's arse abouts yer bloody tales. I just be wantin' t'know whar that bloody drinkin' contest a'been. Me be wantin' t'collect on me prize. They owes me." The rather mercenary man clenches a fist and hits his chest to emphasize that last sentence.
"Squeee!"
*Glomp-hug!*
(^_^)
"How you be! We's bin all over tha' place an' we's seen all kinds a stuffs!" Suny throws herself at Reijo and proceeds to rapidly recount all the great, wonderful, amazing, intruding things she's seen while wandering the town with Viktorra. Happily bouncing up and down with enthusiasm as she does so.
(^_^)
Few things can get past the paranoid sailor's instinct to kill anything that quickly moves in to close proximity. One of those things is a beautiful woman. Well, actually... that might be the only thing.
Anyway, the sailor's swift hands release the hilts of his sheathed dagger and cutlass as he allows Suny's body to embrace his. But his grimace remains on his face, however, as he sizes up the blond wench. Why, you might ask?
"Clothes," he remarks with utter contempt. Particularly as he imagines how much more effective Suny's bouncing would have been without a shirt on. "An' which o'ese maroons be gettin' ye t'puts 'em on now, eh?" He eyeballs the others with grave suspicion and condemnation in his glance.
Listening to Suny's tales, Reijo's dour expression remains, for the most part. Halfway through, his gaze shifts to the others, as if to say, This un's bells ne'er cease t'be a'ringin' once they start, eh?
But the part about Suny and Viktorra getting a room together brings a smirk to his eyes. And the part about Suny's treasure chest does likewise. Hmpf. Might be werth hangin' round these landlubbers a while longer, methinks...
Wait. Treasure... that reminds the pirate of something. Was there mention of some kind of treasure during that drinking contest? His expression shifts towards contemplation now...
"Clothes," he remarks with utter contempt. Particularly as he imagines how much more effective Suny's bouncing would have been without a shirt on. "An' which o'ese maroons be gettin' ye t'puts 'em on now, eh?"
Suny stops, blinks and -looking both confused and puzzled by Reijo's remarks- steps back a-ways.
"Whut? Tha' shirt?" She looks down at the different shirt she is now wearing... one who's 'gussets' are seemingly 'braced' for a 'fuller sail' than that which is on the athletically built Elf....
"In't that tha' way of tha' peoples?" She looks about at her friends of the previous day's fun,
"Ye share ye stuffs after spendin' a night sleepin' with 'em?" Suny looks to Viktorra still obviously puzzled and confused.
"We spent tha' night t'gether an' here we be, on'a next mornin' with ye self's an' me selfs all changin' cloths as way of sayin' appreciation an', an'... stuffs....." Suny scratches absently at her blond mop.
"An' here I were, thinkin' it were a right sensible thing. Whut folks bin tellin' m'self when I were teachin' 'em tha' finer points an' all'a bouts of hammock sharin'...." Suny ponders to herself.
"Please do good sir. I'd much like teh hear it."
Awake again, No-Eyes 'looked' around at the preparations for the festivities.
He sniffed the air.
"Reijo? That you boy? Can't hardly smell ye; it's like yer invisible! HEE he he!"
Reijo scratches his noggin at the blond's confusion. While mention of "spendin' tha' night t'gether" tempts him, his mercenary mind is more focused on the money right now.
"Aye, aye, sure, sure," he tries to assuage her worries with some hand waving, if only to avoid spending more time on the topic. "Don'tchye werry yer perty head 'bout it, Saucy Shir'less..." A last look of disappointment that his nickname for the sea elf only half applies at the moment.
Hearing his joking old mate, the seasoned sailor scoffs and ripostes in return. "No werries, matey. I be smellin' ye nay any a trouble, an' track ye down by yer geezer breath."
He then spends a moment pondering something, reminded by the old sailor's words of a past adventure they shared. Reminiscing, "Aye, 'at was a right trick me pulled on them picaroons, 'fore we sunk 'em straight t'Davy Jones..."
Snapping back to attention, "So anyways, ye be knowin' whar that tavern be? Me wants t'collect me prize..."
You can catch the glint in Anyabwile's eye as Ol' Salty gives him the okay he was waiting for.
"It would be my pleasure to regale you with the tale... Though someone had best point our champion to his cup. Seems he lost it in his post-drunken-slumber stumblings! And that, there, would be a damned shame."
The man laughs, fixing the mask on his face into a more 'serious' position before calling aloud to the crowd. He hops up onto a nearby box, standing a head above the crowd with his festival mask gleaming in the setting sun.
He waits a only a moment - if even that - before diving into the tale with much gusto. "It's been nearly thirty years, this year, since the festivities began. Well, these festivities, at least. Ol' Cayden wouldn't settle for just one, methinks." He raises his glass to the crowd, which cheers in response. Amazing, too - you never even saw him grab the glass. "The great escape, or so they called it. Slavers, those foul folks that put men in bonds and claim ownership of the unownable! Taken from the heart of Sargava, from the lushness of her jungles and from the dregs of her docks, and stuffed into the smelly, mouldering holds of three slaving ships! Trapped and bound for a fate worse than death!"
Anyabwile's glass rocks wildly above the crowd. They boo and hiss at the talk of slavers. Clearly not welcome in Lilywhite. "'Let's have a drink,' they said. 'Celebrate our victory,' they said. 'We'll trade our cargo for a barrel or ten of the finest rum,' they said! Ah, but what did they know? They did not know that good Cayden would not look kindly on their acts. No sirree. Not one bit. A few mugs into the drink, and the lot of them were out cold! Drunken, hapless fools - no, no, that was before the drink! Afterwards, you see, they were made true fools! Asleep right in front of the cells! With their keys on their belts and their swords in the scabbards!"
The crowd goes wild, hefting their mugs high in celebration. "Five seabirds, sent by Thais herself, guided the freedmen to their salvation. A beached ship, primed for the taking. And where else would they sail themselves but a land of free souls? Here, to the Shackles - a name that mocks the bonds that held them, a land that revels in the free spirit of man! Here, where we convene annually to celebrate that no man shall be held in unjust bondage - not so long as The Lucky Drunk has hold of the keg!"
Cheers resound through the crowd. Anyabwile steps down from his perch, removes his mask, and laughs. He leans in towards the group as the crowd begins to disperse back around the lumberyard. "Mighta laid it on a bit thick this time. Gets better every year!"