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A warm breeze blows across the Tarsos Sea, the smell of salt water thick in the harbor of Cabernaum, capital of Icathia. People mill about doing their everyday activities, yet this is a special day for some. A day of departure, a day of new beginnings.
Thankfully, the barracks where the Icathia Royal Army operates from isn't that far and the only people likely to see you are the young "white dragon" users who cavort around the courtyard of the palace, spouting useless wisdom. You depart from your room and find that you are perhaps the only one awake at this time. It is Third Hour (time is measured in hours after dawn [6 am]), but the halls are eerily quiet. You shrug, prepare yourself and head to the barracks.
You need only cross the courtyard to arrive at the barracks and, as expected, you see the young drug addicts playing their usual game of "King and Court", where one pretends he is the late King Cygnus I and the rest his loyal attendants. Sometimes the game degenerates into a sexual romp, but it is a little too early for that. You notice some new graffiti on the palace walls, but you cannot determine whether its something intelligible or some half-assed piece of art.
You approach the barracks and a young guard is standing there. He snaps to attention as you approach.
"What do you want, greenskin? You wanna fight? There ain't no babies for you to eat here!" he bellows at you, accenting his last statement by spitting in your face.
He makes ready to approach you, but a large hand (perhaps as large as your own) catches the young guard in the chest, knocking the wind out of the boy. You look up and see a nearly 7 foot tall man, bulging with muscles and his face criss-crossed with scars. You see a tankard in one of his meaty hands. He flashes you a drunken grin and beckons for you to enter.
"Wotcher 'ead," he says as he lowers his head to enter into the barracks. "Seems like they made this place for 'alflin's."
He walks over to a large oaken desk and offers you a seat. He settles himself in what looks to be a throne. Given the scratch marks, it was probably looted from the palace. He groans as he fidgits in the large seat and refills his tankard from a nearby keg. He take a large drink, then wipes his lips with a royal blue cloak draped over the back of the throne.
"I'm Battlemaster Verrin an' I suppose yer 'ere to join the Icathian Royal Army. Ain't much of an army nowadays, but we still 'ave pride. I 'eard of you, Skarr. Blackwater's group weren't much of a secret. Buncha thugs really, no 'onor. Maybe that ain't yer case, maybe you do 'ave some 'onor and yer out to reclaim it, eh?
"I won't bore you. There's a job that needs doin' and you should fit the bill. Icathia's in real trouble and we don't have a pot to piss in. Summa us 'ave a plan. Involves an island nation called Za'vroma. You'll be going with a buncha members o' the Icathian Explorer's League, they 'ave more of an interest in Za'vroma than I do. So, the job is to protect these people and make sure they don't get killed. You'll be 'eading out on the Blind Maiden, captained by a Rando Saltspray. You'll find 'im at the docks."
He stands and shakes your hand, a strange gesture to you. He hands you a badge. "Wear it wi' pride."
He escorts you to the door, where the young guard is still recuperating. Verrin gives him a kick and sends you on your way.
You get yourself out of bed and pick up the envelope. Breaking the seal, you see that the brief note tells you to come to the Royal Gardens at once. You get yourself ready and head to the Royal Gardens. The sun is not quite up and only the laborers are out and about. Though you've seen a few tieflings in the city, many people have given you a wide berth. The weather is comfortable and the empty streets somewhat soothing. You arrive at the remnants of the royal palace where the Gardens are.
Skirting around the transients, you make your way to the rear of the palace and enter into the Gardens. Eldest Sister is the only one present. She looks at you intently.
"Thank you for coming, Cyna. You are aware of the journey you must make to Zahvroma. But I don't think that the Explorer's League is aware of the dangers in their venture. And if they are...it is necessary more than ever to be wary of their intentions. Zahvroma is a land that is steeped in evil.
"Long ago, in the last age, a group of wizards and their followers rose up against the lands of Alarion. They sought to bring everyone under their rule through the darkest of magic. They were persecuted and killed, but thirteen of them survived and fled to Zahvroma. It is their that they fortified themselves from the outside world, conducting various experiments of the foulest nature. Though I do not know the full extent of their depravity, the presence of the undead in these lands is a legacy of their work here.
"In addition to that grave threat, there is also an artifact of a sinister nature which resides in the land of Zahvroma. I have sent others before you, but none have returned. I fear it is something cataclysmic in nature. It threatens not only our lives but the lives of all you dwell in Vesaria.
"Take this shard," she says as she hands you a green, shimmering shard. "This should destroy the artifact and purify the land. Be careful, Cyna, and may the gods watch over you. The ship you will be taking is called the Blind Maiden and its captain is a halfling named Rando Saltspray. Watch the members of the Explorer's League carefully and determine their intentions. If need be...eliminate them."
You each find a note taped up to your respective doors that reads:
Thank you for volunteering for this most urgent of missions. As you know, the land of Icathia is in danger not only from without but from within as well. There are many who would sell out our culture for false promises of safety. We have determined that exploration of Zahvroma would be in our best interests, not only to preserve our culture but the lives of Icathia's citizens.
You will be commissioned to explore Zahvroma and determine whether it is possible to settle there. Take notes on the climate, the soil quality and if there are other settlements there. You are given authority to negotiate peace and conduct business on our behalf. Determine whether the natives will be amenable to our settlement there.
As per request of our benefactor, you will also be commissioned to seek out any artifacts of the Zahvroman culture. We have been informed that there was a civilization of interest in the prior age and we would like to investigate further. You will be paid extra for each artifact that is brought back. Despite the importance of your first duty, this one is not to be neglected either.
Report to the Blind Maiden at the harbor. Rando Saltspray, captain of the ship will be waiting for you before noon.
Regards,
Maximillian Vonder
The trip to his rendezvous point did nothing to help his mood. The scatterbrained streetside addicts did little but provide a target for his dark thoughts. More than once he considered grabbing the biggest strongest one he could find and beat him until his knuckles were bloody and raw or perhaps a pretty one to bend over a low wall and sate his needs on. Maybe another time... he had business to see to.
The loudmouthed guard almost earned the full extent of the hulking orc's pent up frustration but the unknown big human intervened in time. Seeing the mouthy little man crumple to the ground brought a smile to Skaar's crude features. He was going to get along with this Battlemaster.
***
Skaar rotated the badge in his massive gnarled hand and considered the task.
Without a word, he took the badge and shoved into his hide vest over his heart. So much force was used that the badge's edge dug deep enough into his thick hide to draw blood. He watched with morbid interest as a line of crimson dripped down his visible pectoral across the tattoo he'd gotten upon joining Blackwater's unit. The big orc offered a bass chuckle and nodded.
"I'm yer man. I'll keep the little 'uns in one piece."
It was good to be doing something. Harakhty wasn't sure if the explorer's league was interested in his abilities or merely wanted a diverse delegation for a more disarming appearance, and it made no difference to him. Those outside his contacts with the church took him at a generalization in this center of civilization. Primitive. Monkey. The names wouldn't bother him so much from some, but it was nearly everyone. It was perhaps just this stereotype the league wanted the Zahvroman's to see so they wouldn't feel threatened by a bristling regiment, rearing for war.
On the other hand, a select few prior to his engagement with the league learned the young acolyte to be quite observant ... obnoxiously so. That was his place at the church though - those secrets of import people didn't want discovered were exactly what the mages demanded of him. Others' expectations of his alien nature made it easier to deceive them or threaten them with broken speech when he chose (though by now his common was at a very comfortable level of proficiency, albeit with an accent), but he preferred to eschew the interaction altogether. This evasion of what was portrayed on the surface, the desire to find the unknown would also be a very desirable trait for one of their explorers, Harakhty realized.
Making his way to the docks, Harakhty was quite ready and determined. Little would dissuade him from this task. He didn't intend to tarry, for he longed to be runnited with Naeem.
His superiors in the temple had him go with their blessing. What could be better than exotic information from abroad? They were hoping new texts on the study of magic would come to light, wishing to expand their knowledge of the arcane. Hopefully, these cultural artifacts - if any were found - would not provide a conflict of interest to Harakhty.
Now is that anyway to speak to your mother?
The Sorceror closed his eyes and pushed her out of his mind, like so many times before. Gathering his things, Drago left for the dock. Upon entering the street, the blinding sun forced him to pull the hood of his crimson cloak up. Will I ever get used to the sun, he thought to himself. As usual, peoples heads turned as they saw a man wearing a crimson hood over clothing that was dark blue trimmed with silver. Other than that, Drago reached the harbor without incident. After a few inquires, he was directed to Captain Saltspray.
"Good afternoon Captain Saltspray, I believe I am to sail with you to the island of Zahvroma?"
The halfling tips his hat slightly, drawing on a hickory pipe. Though he doesn't look threatening, the eyepatch over his right eye lends a much-needed gravitas to his demeanor. He nods at you almost halfheartedly. "Aye, I be Cap'n' Saltspray. By th' looks of ye, ye must be from the Explorer's League. Ye be early, so I reckon ye can go on board and see if the Blind Maiden is t' yer likin'."
He spits in the water and motions for you to board the ship. You see a few sailors milling about, adjusting the rigging and polishing the cannons that line the deck. The crew looks at you with slight interest, but they look more exotic than you'd imagined. They quickly resume their duties, glancing down the dock occasionally.
Such a little man. Harakhty had seen but a few halflings since his entry into the city, and their stature was still surprising to him at times.
Walking onto the ship, he gave Drago a look-over. Hopefully, he'll help me get the job done. The technicality did remain it wasn't really for the nation Harakhty needed to secure land, but rather his tribe. Both would have to do, and it would be another obstacle if this Drago's interests lay at cross-purposes somehow.
Though hoping he wouldn't have to make use of them, the Vanara eschewed no armament. He wore the robe of his church, an unadorned cloth black on the right half and white on the left. The bright magelings of the temple sometimes studied engineering; a few crafters of crossbows were among them. One of their accomplishments was creating a model small enough to be wielded accurately in one hand - perfect for jobs of intimacy. Though Harakhty had never slain anyone, a bolt here or there provided sufficient motivation for information to be divulged from most targets. The crossbow now hung on his shoulder in a holder, and he hoped it didn't have to be used. He brought a staff with him in place of his spear, less prone to puncturing sacks and whatnot for the trip; it was held by him in his left hand about halfway up the hilt, occasionally tapping the ground. A quiver relied on his other shoulder.
Underneath the robe, he wore only a loose pair of half-trousers; a cut was made to accommodate his tail which fished about under his robe, occasionally lifting it up an inch or two. Harakhty's striped fur kept him warm in the current season without much on top of his coat, and no shoes were worn by him. He carried a pack lower down on his back which contained his chain tunic and a few other items. A on his belt hung two pouches, one which jingled slightly, and another, slightly larger yet softer satchel.
Once on board the ship, he turned to his new partner. "I am Harakhty of the Suntooth tribe. It seems we are to explore this new land together."
The crimson cloaked man responded to the Halfling, "Thank you sir." At which point he boarded the ship and searched for a way below deck. He didn't get far, for he was asailed by a strange individual of a race he had not seen before.
Looking up from his hood, the Sorceror replied, "So it would seem. My name is Drago Skorzeny. I hail from......east of Icathia. Where do come from?"
The wind suddenly kicked up and blew open his cloak to reveal a tunic and breeches of dark blue trimmed in silver, black boots that came up to just under his knee, and a belt that held three pouches, a leather cylindrical object, a quiver filled with bolts, and a dagger that looked of Elven make. Slung over Drago's left shoulder was his crossbow, and his backpack slung over his right, bedroll and waterskin attached to the outside of it.
Keep an eye on the boys and girls from the Explorer's League on their little trip to Za'vroma. Make sure they come home in one piece. Easy money.
The greenskin brute managed to get aboard the vessel with surprisingly little trouble. A couple sailors flashed him a nervous glare - a look that said, You don't belong here, but they backed off when they spotted the badge pinned proudly to his harness. Once aboard the deck of the ship, the big orc stands tall, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath enjoying the salty sea air.
Skaar is a massive specimen, a full-blooded orc standing well over two meters tall and weighing near thirty stone. His hulking frame is covered in mossy green hide and coarse dark hair sprouts from his head and along his body. Scars and tattoos decorate his naked flesh liberally. Despite his musclebound appearance he moves with surprising grace for a creature of his size.
He's clad in a leather harness composed of straps wrapped tightly across his burly torso. Pinned to one of these straps is a badge indicating his connection to the Icathian Royal Army. His tree trunk-girth legs are clothed in dirty hide leggings and worn travelers boots bulge with the effort of containing his feet. He carries no weapons aside from an almost comically tiny dagger in a sheath hanging from his waist.
He pauses when he sees a handful of strangers, equally new to this experience.
"Uh, hi. You's with the Explorer's League?"
Looking up from his hood, the Sorceror replied, "So it would seem. My name is Drago Skorzeny. I hail from......east of Icathia. Where do come from?"
"I'm from all over da place", the massive orc replied simply.
"I've been stayin' in the ruins outside the Royal Palace the past few weeks."
Ruins, eh? Well you two should have loads to talk about. His mother said in his mind. With a perturbed look on his face, Drago closed his eyes and thought sternly, I said, SHUT IT!
Regaining his composure, the Sorceror's eyes snapped open, replying, "Sounds a bit uncomfortable."
The orc shrugged his brawny shoulders dismissively. It was a gesture that would mean little coming from most, but it was almost comical when performed by the massive brute.
"Not so bad. I's had worse. 'Least it was dry. Beats sleeping in the mud."
"You Explorer's League?" he grunted almost as an accusation.
Cyna takes a moment to enjoy the cool air and probably her last moments of peace and quiet for sometime before heading out to collect her horse and loading up on feed for the journey ahead. She guides him up the dock and into the ships hold to be stabled before heading top side to introduce herself and get a look at her fellow travelers.
She is wearing her usual attir attire of furs and leathers and exporers outfit with white cloth and her wooden holy symbol of Sarenrae hangs near her hip tied to her Scimitars scabbard.
Miss Singer greets those who have already arrived. "Guten Morgen gentelman my name is Cyna Singer, of the Green Circle, and that was my steed Brimstone. Nice to meet you all. "
Drago seemed decent enough. His dress indicated he may be like many of the people in the city Harakhty had paid visits to at the request of the church - well-dressed and well-spoken. "The temple of Nethys housed me while in the city, but my tribe comes from the grasslands to the West. Our grove is the second past the river. They have migrated though,"/[b] relayed the Vanara with a pang of sadness. [b]"I don't know where they are now."
As a giant creature walked up the plank, his sadness turned to fear though. Harakhty had seen the halfbreeds, but never a full Orc. They were monstrous. Skarr towered over him, a green tower on the ship. It was his girth which made the young investigator nervous though; his arms were bigger than his legs, and his legs as large as his torso. The thickness was all muscle, leaving no doubt as to his purpose on this journey. In his younger days, when he was still taken on hunts, beasts of his size had given him a gash or two, and the unnerving feeling had never quite left him. He was determined not to let this worry show through to Skarr, lest it give him any ideas; he'd heard the stories of Orcs brutally taking slaves before, and in a land away from order, what was to stop him?
"Y-Yes, I'm with the league. Harakhty," he managed. His eyes noticed the badge pinned to the leather strap on his bulging chest. "I don't recognize the sign. What is it from?" he inquired, his curiosity taking control.
The woman boarding shortly thereafter hailed them with a greeting he did not understand. Her attire was familiar to Harakhty, putting him more at ease."Likewise - I'm Harakhty. I hope our journey is a safe one."
He gave the lion's tooth pendant on his neck a touch for good luck, as usual. They might need it.
Rando looks at the two newcomers with a mixture of contempt and amusement. "What's this town comin' to when landlubbers walk on yer ship without so much as a how-do-ye-do to th' cap'n?"
"Sersel!" he bellows at a young nagaji woman. "Stable the lady's horse."
As Harakhty looks over the crew, he sees a diverse mix of folk.
-
The big orc studied the vanara as he did the same. The way he nervously shifted his weight and stammared was something he was used to - he'd seen it all his life. Fear. Most people he met feared him on sight, others hated him, some showed him an equal mixture of both. The worried man's question snapped Skaar out of his introspection.
"Royal Army", he grunted at he tapped the tiny symbol with a meaty digit. "Battlemaster Verrin says you's headed to a place called Za'vroma. He says I need ta go wit'u. No worries. I's strong. I keep all ya little 'uns safe."
Seeing the vanara is still anxious, Skaar cranes his neck down in an effort to get down on Harakhty's level.
"Skaar", the brute said as he pointed at himself.
"Sorry, it seemed your thoughts were elsewhere; I didn't mean to interrupt." A quick glance of the deck, while not enough to survey the entire crew, was plenty to tell Harakhty they hailed from distant lands. "It seems you're no stranger to exploring. From the looks of it, you've been across many a sea."
He would have to speak with his kin later. Though their fur identified them as those of a different tribe (he knew not which), it would be good to see if their society worked differently. After all, those in the city lived different lives than they did in the savanna. There were definite benefits to city life, but Harakhty missed sleeping under the stars; it was too dangerous to do in the city with pickpockets about. Perhaps this trek would allow him to reconnect with the land - even if it was a different one.
As Skaar leans down towards him, Harakhty takes a step back. The Royal Army was not one of the organizations he knew much about, but Skaar's military admission made him think the Orc had snapped many necks in his day. His tail twitched twice in nervousness.
"I can see that, S-Skaar. Thank you." It was clear he was not convinced there was nothing to worry about. Neither was conviction of hostile motive present in his eyes either - just uncertainty. Nethys protect me, I haven't even set out yet.
Rando makes his way up the gangplank and looks at you.
"'Tain't is jus' like humans to be th' last ones to show?" he asks to no one in particular, loud enough for anyone on the deck to hear.
The non-humans laugh heartily, though you can tell some of it is feigned. The humans chuckle nervously, which causes Rando to spin around and face one of them. He strides up to the crew member, an older human with a pegleg.
"When th' cap'n says somethin' funny, th' cap'n expects a laugh!" Rando exclaims fiercely. He drives a hard fist into the crewman's groin. "Now! Weren't that funny, Jitty?"
"A-aye, c-cap'n," Jitty groans. "H-ha ha."
"That's better," Rando says with a smug smile, turning back to you. "I'll have Sersel show ye yer quarters when she's done stablin' the horse."
He walks back over to the stern of the ship and resumes watching over the railing for your other companions.
Finally, Dr. Savage bursts forth from his room. "Godsdamnit! You got to die somehow! Might as well do it in the a~$*#&+ of the world!" He spins around, looking around the ship until he sees the gathering. "Aha! Company! A company, right, I suppose? Cayden's Frothy Morning Diarrhea, what a menagerie! Ah, but you know, I believe a humanoid from any race, no matter how vile or ignorant, can be just as productive as the godsdamned Royal Family, inbred, bleeding, gummy-mouthed!" He then approaches the group. "Doctor Stephen Savage, at your service. I have the recipes for when we all turn cannibal."
Skaar narrowed his eyes and furrowed his heavy brow.
"Nobody'll hurt lil' striped 'Nara when I's around."
Without another word, the massive greenskin turned his attention elsewhere.
"I'ma find somein' to eat", he said as he lumbered off.
***
A little - though not completely shocked - at the Captain's display of dominance, Harakhty was doubting he'd enjoy the sail as much as he'd hoped. The Vanaras were no pacifists, but they eschewed violence more often among themselves than humans did - and Halflings it seemed. Common sense told him a blow to the loins would be most unpleasing, but he'd never endured one from a person (though landing on a branch askew was another story). His people held bearing children as a sacred right of any couple, and an attempt to void that ability wasn't quite seen as sacrilegious, but it was surely taboo - even if Harakhty, who had no use for his seed, was a victim. His opinion of the captain dropped a notch. Then another outburst caught their attention.
Stephen's exposition was certainly attention-grabbing. Though his quick and colorful speech was a little hard to follow, Harakhty got the gist. He approached the doctor and outstretched his hand, happy for an excuse to get away from the captain. "Harakhty Suntooth. Don't be so sure about our ends down there - I plan on returning."
A slightly embarrased Miss Singer replies to the capt."My apologies captain I.. uh.. didn't see you..."
-----
Cyna smiles at Stevens rather exuberant personality, and view of the world's more questionable races. "That was quite the entrance Dr., but hopefully I can keep us all feed enough so that dosen't happen. "
"'Bout time yer lily-livered arse showed up!" Rando hollers to Stephen as he boards. "SERSEL! I've got another horse fer ye! It's damn near sixth hour now! Yer next companion better'd be a whale t' drag us out at low-tide! By Besmara's blood-soaked teats, I hate owin' favors!"
The halfling is in charge of grub, the snake-woman can patch us up, and the other snake-woman was in charge when the captain was busy with his whore.
The big brute caught the female half-orc's gaze and recognized her expression. He wasn't the sharpest pair of tusks around but he'd been around the block enough times to recognize the difference between a woman in heat, one looking for coin, and one likely to get guards after him. He returned her look - Be Ready - and gave her a little flex to get her excited before heading back up to the deck to find the rest of his charges.
Returning to the deck several minutes later, Skaar spots Savage chatting with the others.
He must be an Explorer too.
The massive greenskin approached and, after a moment of thought, extended his hand as the Battlemaster had.
"Skaar."
"By the Taxed Liver! It's a taking green mountain! You, my friend, I sense an innate greatness in. Fellow seeker of truth?"
The big orc raised a brow in confusion.
"Huh?", he grunted.
"No, Skaar."
"Well I'm just pleased to meet you, Skaar. I'm Dr. Stephen Strange, and I am a seeker of truths. I am also a seeker of a drink right about now ...do you like whiskey, Skaar?"
The human is strange. Maybe half-mad. At least he's friendly.
"Ya. A drink'd be gud."
Skaar examined the deck again and did an inventory of the party.
Savage. Human. Friendly nutter.
Harakhty. Striped Vanara. Real scared.
Singer. Human woman. Lots of furs. Likes green.
Drago. Pale Human. Doesn't talk much.
"Are you the last of da Explorers?"
Keeping quiet during the exchanges, and Dr. Savages enterance, Drago waited for the right moment to duck out of the sun and into his cabin. Well this promises to be an interesting trip.
Once his gear was stowed away, he returned to the deck.
Overhearing the chatter between the odd man and Skaar about getting a drink, Harakhty takes advantage of the opportunity to move about the deck. He had a hunch the captain was also a bit nervous, but who wouldn't be with that Orc around? He just hoped the alcohol didn't make him too rowdy...
He approached the Vanaras from another tribe, smiling as he greeted them. "I hardly expected to find cousins here. It's good to see some of our own, even if from other tribes. Would you mind showing me where I can put my pack? We could talk on the way." Usually not the talkative type, a little taste of home changed Harakhty's tune quickly.
Seeing the Vanara go off to some other part of the ship, Drago decided to speak to the other members of the group. Walking up to the Orc and the strange man, he asked, [b]"So Dr... Savage is it? What brings you on out little adventure? I understand Skaar here is to be our security, but what is your expertise?
"Gah!" the Doctor flinches wildly at the entrance of Drago into the conversation. "Sorry, there, my good man. I'm unaccustomed to sudden questions from the mouths of not-me. Me? I've been a traveller, a reporter, a loathesome lothario. Deep down inside, I suppose I'm a scientist ...top secret, hush-hush, need-to-know and all that. I'll be experimenting on the local flora and fauna. Medicinal properties! Yes! One never knows what colorful plant or repitlian anus might hide the next great thing, am I right? But enough about me! Skaar here was just about to join me for some whiskey. Do you drink?"
Shaking his head to make sense of what Savage just said, Drago replied, "Yes, on occasion. Mind if I come along?"
"I am Maviv, that is my brother, Saviv," the taller of the two says. "We are pleased to see a cousin as well. We have been sailing with Captain Saltspray for many years now. How many, Saviv?"
"About four now," Saviv replies cheerfully.
Maviv resumes as you move along the narrow hallway. "Don't mind the captain's outbursts. He is a good man. He fought for our village. He is nervous because of this Maximillian Vonder. This Vonder...um...I suppose you would say "blackmailed"...the captain. Horace the Red has a bounty on Captain Saltspray. We came to Icathia to resupply. Vonder found out and tricked the captain. But it is all for good, since we get to meet."
Saviv opens a door at the end of the hallway. It is a sparse room with six hammocks, you can see some of your companions' gear stowed about.
"It is not much," Saviv says sadly. "But there are good things too."
Saviv knocks on a board above one of the top hammocks, revealing a secret compartment. "We'll put your stuff up here, so it is not disturbed. Anything else we can do for you, cousin? Just ask."
"Ah, the more the merrier, that's what some say, though I've reason to believe it isn't totally true in all situations, I do believe the three of us can enjoy a delicious beverage or twelve whilst we depart. It's how the sailors do it, drunken buggerers all." Stephen begins to lead the two back to his cabin.
Skaar grunts and follows the pair.
Very strange.