The water of the Glass River slushes lazily around the wooden posts of the piers of Xer, primary trade port of Razmirian. Behind the Greycloak Warehouse, dock workers are busy loading the last crates on to the river barge Tatzlwyrm under the direction of a lean, hardfaced man.
Spotting the armed men approaching one by one, he turns and calls out to them.
"I'm Kale, and the Tatzlwyrm here is mine. Any of you fellas looking to hire on as security, grab a seat in the shade over there, and I'll be with you as soon as we have everything squared away. I hope you brought all your gear, 'cause we'll be casting off as soon as the last crate is secure."
Coeran moves over to where he is directed, pleased to be in the shade. He glances around for some place to sit, but sees no place that suits him, he just stands. He straightens the collar of his coat, which is finely tailored but a bit the worst for wear. Though he is grouped as "security", he carries no weapons.
"Well met Kale and where should ladies interested in work stand?" asks Genevieva with a playful smile.
Cadoc Howell nods politely to a pair of priests as he passes them on the street. The priests' features are unreadable beneath their unsettling and expressionless masks. If half the rumors were true about these priests I should be . . . what? Indignant? Outraged? Is this religion any worse than that of Asmodeus? He'd left Cheliax without incident and it wasn't his calling to fix Xer either.
His holy symbol a silver pendant in the shape of a tankard lay warm against his chest safely concealed under his breastplate. Best to remain unremarkable and unnoticed particularly in hostile territory.
He supposed, not for the first time, that he wasn't a very good cleric. Which was probably okay, Cayden Cailean wasn't a particularly good example of divinity so Cadoc figured he probably had a little leeway with his god.
The boat in need of security was called the Tatzlwyrm. The name alone had caught Cadoc's attention last night and whether it was the spirits, divine inspiration or both he felt he needed to be on this boat this morning.
Cadoc pauses at a corner to get his bearings. According to the bartender's directions he needed to turn right at the next cross street. He hurries along, sure he had a little leeway but he didn't want to test Cayden's patience if this leg of his journey had been divinely inspired.
As he arrives at the dock Cadoc takes in the barge and the busy workers pausing briefly before following Kale's directions to wait in the shade. Cadoc approaches the other new arrivals and notes curiously the man's lack of weapons.
With the flourish of a nearly formal bow Cadoc first addresses the lady then the gentleman, "Cadoc Howell."
Genevieva bats her eyelashes at Cadoc sweetly but makes no offer of her own name opting to wait for the Captain to respond to her playful inquiry.
Coeran smiles politely at the two new arrivals, greeting them warmly. He wonders aloud "I wonder how many people he's looking for to perform security for him."
Cadoc shrugs as if unconcerned, "I suppose we'll find out shortly."
Morven Greigor was the next to arrive. Dressed in hide armor including a wolf's head helm, he seemed quite the savage. Like many of his kind, he had inherited fierce looking tusks from his Orc parent. Rather than filing his off or attempting to diminish their presence, it seemed the burly looking warrior had sharpened his. With a nod at the boat's master, he took a seat in the shade, unsheathing a particularly heavy-bladed falchion and resting the sword on his lap.
Captain Kale issues a few more orders to the dock workers, then turns to survey the group.
"You stand with the rest, missy. On my boat, you won't be treated any better or worse, just 'cause you happen to be packing a pair of teats. As long as you pull your weight and keep my cargo safe, I couldn't care less what's between yer legs." Kale says in response to Genevieva's playful jest.
"All right, listen up, the lot of ya. You are all here because the masked priest and their lackeys took it upon themselves to lock up my security crew. Seems they've taken a special interest in making sure the boats that leave here are in no condition to refuse their requests of "tithes", should they come upon one of their thrice-damned "faith barges". I have no intention of dithering around here long enough for them to send another gang of goons to "bless" my cargo before departure, so we'll be leaving within the hour. I need strong bodies to keep my boat, my crew and my cargo safe, and it would seem like you are all I have to choose from. Right then. I offer three square meals a day, a place for your bedroll in the cargo hold and payment of fifty gold pieces per head upon our safe arrival to Tymon. Them's the terms, and they ain't like to change, so if you're in, then grab your gear and jump on board. If not..." He spits on the dock planks, as if daring anyone to argue.
He scans the group, taking count of them. "Hmm...four of you. I'd like one or two more, but I'll make do with whomever is on board once the last crate is in place."
A few moments after Captain Kale explains his terms of employment and his desire for a few more hands on deck a young man approaches. He is dressed in lacquered leather armor and wears an Aldori dueling sword on his hip. A couple of throwing axes hang from his belt as well and a bow is strung across his back.
He strides confidently towards the Captain and remarks, Brenn's the name. This boat is headed to Tymon you say? Perfect. I'd like to claim a spot.
Hardly waiting for permission, Brenn boards and slings his pack from his shoulder and drops it to the deck at his feet. Ready when you are chief! The young man looks over the others, smiling, and nodding at each.
"That sounds fair enough." Slinging his small satchel over one shoulder, he boards the boat and starts looking for ways to make himself useful.
Brenn's eyes fall to the falchion carried by the half-orc. Bu güzel görünümlü kılıç. A benim tatmak için ağır biraz, ama doğru ellerde yıkıcı. Bunun bir adı var mı?
The half-orc replied in fairly guttural Orc, his eyes blazing with the intensity of a true zealot.
Gorumskag. The arc of the blade through the air is a song paying homage to Gorum. I consider it the eighth holy poem.
Genevieva closes on Kale keeping her voice low, "Do you expect the Masked Priests will cause you trouble as we set out? Better to know what troubles lie ahead so we can anticipate how best to handle such issues for you when they arise".
"We are almost set to sail, and I paid off the necessary people here on the docks, so I don't expect any trouble. You never know, though, so stay sharp. I don't intend to pay any more than I already have. Once we reach open river, we still have to get past their faith barges. Bah! Little more than common pirates, is what they are, and getting bolder every day." Kale says, as he counts off the items stored in the cargo deck.
Coeran looks for someplace to be out of the way of the busy crew and help keep a watch for the "faithful". Perhaps by hoisting himself up on some durable cargo. If asked to help with some of the process to push off, with mild surprise he'll help in whatever way asked. However, it is clear it wouldn't have occurred to him to offer.
"This looks to be rather pleasant." he comments to anyone nearby, or to no one in particular.
Brenn nods appreciatively at Morven. Güzel bir isim. Ben şarkı işitme bekliyoruz. Uygun bir türkü ben eminim olacaktır.
Turning to the others Brenn remarks, I have a fairly good guess what the half-orc here brings to the table. Likewise, I bring a sword to the party. Eyeing up the other three he continues, Not sure about the rest of you. Spell casting perhaps? Spotting Cadoc's rapier, Brenn adds in a jesting tone, You are obviously not compensating for anything huh friend?
Cadoc grins, "Well..." he drags the word out before ending it in an abrupt cough. He pats the hilt of the rapier "It's a symbol as much as it is a weapon." Then with an exaggerated look around the dock and a mock-hushed whisper he adds, "I'm a cleric of Cayden Cailean."
Ha! Fantastic! I'll drink to that! Brenn replies in the same whispered tone.
Turning to the others he continues in the hushed voice, And what about you two? he asks of Coeran and Genevieva. Any special talents or secrets you wish to share?
Genevieva grins, "A lady who spills secrets to just anyone is no lady. I have many talents, a patient man may discover them. Are you a patient man Brenn?"
Genevieva fingers the pommel of the dagger sheathed on her waist. Whatever else she may have is covered by her jacket though based on the bulges something lurks beneath it.
Cadoc gives Genevieva an appreciative smile and Brenn a sympathetic sideways glance that seems to say, "Better you than me," before plunging right into the lion's den. "So m'lady. What...er...How? Oh you're just going to knot up my words aren't you?" He sighs, "What do you do then for a living?"
I have never been accused of that no... he says with a mischievous grin of his own before letting the cleric take the lead in the conversation.
"Things that would make a pious young priest such as yourself blush", Genevieva replies with a wicked grin.
Gen laughs at Brenn's response, "So what have you been accused of? I hope a superior swordsman, I sense that this will not be a lazy jaunt downriver even once we clear the faith barges. At least I hope it is not!"
Brenn raises an eyebrow. Things that would make a priest of... Cayden Cailean blush?! My, my my, things are surely getting interesting now. Do tell! I do not blush easily I can assure you.
As for my skill with a sword? Humbly, it is a work in progress, the young man says with a bow. I freely admit I have much to learn before I can truly call myself a master swordsman, but yes I agree that this trip should likely afford me the opportunity to practice my art.
"Pious?" Cadoc attempts to cover his wide grin with his hand. "My dear you may have just over played your hand." Cadoc turns to Brenn, "Have you had much call to practice your art?"
On occasion...
"Well, this will be an interesting sailing indeed, I think. And the carousing to celebrate our success will be the stuff of bards' songs!"
Gen shakes her head and grins, "Yes a young pious priest of your God would certainly blush over the concoctions I like to brew..."
Morven watched the merry chatting with a grim stare- not looking at any of the speakers in particular but directed their way nevertheless.
"I am looking forward to interesting," Cadoc's voice has a hint of sarcasm to it. "I haven't had enough of 'interesting' yet." With more enthusiasm he adds, "'Carousing and success' on the other hand those are words I can get behind."
Turning his attention back to Genevieva, "So you're a bad brewer? No shame in that. I'm a bad drinker." He gives her a good natured grin. "You can do what I do. Practice, practice, practice."
Crossing off the last item on his list with a satisfied nod, Kale turns and shouts "Right, that's everything. Let's leave this stinkhole of a port behind and get proper riverwater flowing under our keel as swiftly as possible. TISH!"
In response to the shouted name, a small head topped with unruly purple hair pops out of the covered section in the aft of the Tatzlwyrm.
"Aye, Captain?" the female gnome asks, as calmly as if Kale had cleared his throat politely.
"Prepare to cast off - we're leaving. After you secure the lines, you will assist me in instructing our new crew members in proper use of a pole, so they don't capsize us before we get out of port." Kale tells the gnome before turning to his new security detail.
"Right - all aboard!"
A brief commotion ensues, as everyone scramble into the boat. Within minutes, the Tatzlwyrm glides out of Xer and heads upriver along the Glass River, eastward towards Tymon and the River Kingdoms.
Kale introduces the gnome as Tish, first mate, cook and the only other regular crew member on board.
Clearly pleased, Kale take the rudder and instructs everyone else to make themselves handy with the long poles used to steer the boat clear of flotsam and drive it forward in the absence of wind. Neither is much needed today, as there is a brisk breeze and the river runs wide and deep.
As Xer shrinks behind the stern, Kale further explains the duties he expects his new crew members to perform.
"We sail from dawn to dusk. Once it becomes too dark to navigate the waters safely, we drop anchor. I want at least two man on watch throughout the night. When we sail, anyone not coming off a night watch should be up and about, making themselves useful. I'll have no layabouts on my boat. Set up a watch rotation as you see fit, and get to work."
Morven bore a grim look as he reluctantly sheathed his sword over his shoulder and took a fresh pole. No sooner did it enter his hands than a long crack ran down it, the wood split and the Half-Orc stared deadpan at the Gnome instructor as he held it out to her.
This one is broken he stated in his harsh voice.
Strangely, when he passed it back to Tish the pole seemed to have repaired itself once again. But the next pole he was handed also almost instantly sported scratches and fractures- clearly it would not stand up to duty in the water. Morven handed the pole back to the Gnome once again and looked down at her sternly as he explained.
I was not hired to steer boats. Only Gorumskaag, my sword, can withstand the destructive power coursing through me. Morven was born in battle; I will keep a watchful eye for these toll barges your captain spoke of.
Brenn shrugs his shoulders and picks up a long pole. Taking a spot on the rail he prods periodically at things that float by in the river.
Watching with some bemusement at the interaction between Tish and Morven, he interjects in a jesting tone, Born in battle eh? Sounds dangerous. I was born in the back room of a tavern. Up until just now, I thought that was exciting...
Maybe there was a brawl happening at the time... Brenn mumbles to himself.
Back at Morven, Seems we are both products of our earliest environments huh? he adds with a smile and a wink.
I think I might just want you to spot one of those barges! Brenn adds with definite interest and a smidge of excitement in his voice.
Allowing himself an amused smile at the half-orcs display, Coeran takes off his coat, folds it carefully and sets it out of the way. He takes the cufflinks out of his shirt and slips them into a pocket. He rolls up his sleeves before accepting a pole. Ignoring the gnome, he sets confidently about to poling the boat.
When the pole gets stuck and Coeran almost has to dive in to recover it, he mutters a quiet 'sorry' and pays attention to her instructions.
Tish examines the poles Morven hand her back with wide-eyed wonder.
"Ohh...that's something you don't see every day. Best put you on lookout duty or something. Can't have you breaking anything we need to make the boat run. I guess having you help out with the cooking is out too, or we'll have broken bottles and shards of pottery everywhere. Oh, and don't go touching the hull below the water line either. I like my feet dry, and Kale will skin you if you sink his boat."
Cadoc snags one of the poles and takes a post eagerly.
Gen smiles at Tish and grabs a pole using it to direct away any debris which comes their way.
She does not keep up the banter but instead focuses on the task at hand.
Well at least there will be one other woman on this vessel besides me.
While everyone else grab a pole and help push the keelboat out onto the main river, Morven takes position at the stern of the ship, gazing out over the water.
The fresh breeze and the bright day is a welcome change from the stuffy and cloying smell of the docks. Kale's spirits seem to rise in pace with the climbing sun, and by noon, Xer is but a small dot in the distance behind the boat.
"Ship. Coming fast. Looks like the masked priests." Morven growls from his lookout post.
Brenn hauls his pole in and lets it clatter to the deck. Looking to the Captain, the youthful warrior asks earnestly, Orders Captain?
Coeran will carefully pull back his pole and put it back where it belongs. He moves toward the edge of the boat closest to the approaching vessel. He find something to stand behind (a crate, a solid railing, a barrel, etc.) that he can duck down behind if they start their attack with missile weapons.
Brenn takes note of Coeran's response to the approaching vessel. He... is... taking cover?! Glancing quickly about to see how the others are reacting, he asks, I am quite unfamiliar with the masked priests and their tendencies. Is there reason to believe they will launch a volley first and ask questions after?
Are we already in breach of some law or custom?
"Besmara's salty snatch! Stow those poles and get to your posts. They may rule their stinking city, but out here on the water, I live by the River Freedoms. They can talk all they like, but they ain't getting on my boat. Prepare to repel boarders if need be." Kale curses and turns the rudder towards the incomming boat so the Tatzlwyrm won't present it's broad side.
As the boat turns, Cadoc stows his pole then readies his shield and rapier still smiling from the captain's curse I'll have to remember that one, he thinks to himself.
Gen winces at the Captain's curse but says nothing. She continues to push debris out of the way with her pole; after all, it only takes one hand to throw a dagger.
Having given the warning, Morven's purpose of mind became crystal clear. Sure that battle was to follow, Morven drew his sword, found cover and called upon the Lord in Iron for his blessings in the fight he believed was to come...
Within a minute, the Razmirian vessel is close enough that the individual crew members can be spotted from the Tatzlwyrm.
Four burly men in padded armor work the oars, under the direction of a robed figure wearing an iron mask.
When the faith barge is 30 ft from the Tatzlwyrm, the masked man stands and shouts across the water.
"Rejoice, weary travelers! I am Holy Ehezera, and I bring you the word of our glorious lord, Razmir! Lay too and let me on board, so I may deliver the blessings upon you and your vessel!"
Kale stands and shouts back in a defiant tone
"Sail on by and leave us to our business, priest! Your masked god holds no power here. These waters are the domain of Hanspur, and I'll not risk his wrath by letting any of you set foot on my boat."