Queshem declines with thanks. I really do wish to meet the great man himself. I be an aspiring slave breaker myself and just freed a hundred of them a little bit ago. How would it be possible to meet him?
The halfing sadly shakes his head, sighing melodramatically. 'Master Raffles is quite busy running Bag Island and organizing various sea expeditions. It is really quite impossible for him to meet with anyone, even for such worthy heroes as yourselves.'
'Really, out of the question. But again, if you tell me your proposal, I can make sure the Master sees and judges it accordingly."
Queshem stands up and makes to push past Greenbarrow into the room he'd come out of We be in dire straits as the docking fee do have stripped us of our supplies. We also be in a hurry so I must insist on speaking to Raffles himself so we can get our docking fee returned and maybe even get a reward fer every slave we rescued from a life of terrible toil and sufferin'.
She pauses as Greenbarrow presumably tries to stop her.
Unless.. ye seem to be influential enough to make this happen fer us. If ye can talk to Raffles and get his approval then we'll be on our way. We can wait a bit longer. If it be taking ye very long to convince him then I can come with ye and talk to the hero himself. I've been told that I can be very persuasive!
The younger halfling purses his lips. 'Well, as I said, meeting Master Raffles is simply out of the question, entirely."
Grennbarrow pauses though saying, "I can get you one of his deputies, perhaps. They might be in a position to hear your appeal and make the appropriate orders, although I have not seen the docking fee waived yet."
The little servant stretches out an open hand on the table and coughs. 'I'd be willing to try. How much do you want to meet someone?"
Queshem hems and haws and drops her arm near her pouch That depends... how likely it'd be fer the person I meet to be able to have the orders made and carried out?
Queshem isn't sure how rich Bag Island is or what the going rate to bribe this offical.
Jagen flexes the long, smooth fingers of the hand, waiting to be greased. "I guarantee you'll hear one way or the other from them. They are quite highly placed."
Queshem shakes her head and drops 20 gold from her personal stash into Jagen's hand.
from how his eyes light up, Queshem guesses she overpaid the man. The gold is gone in an instant and is standing up again.
'Be at the Dripping Bough at nightfall. The deputy will meet you there and hear your plea." he bows and then adds, 'Is there any other way I can assist you?"
This be a show of goodwill. Queshem says There be a little more goodwill still fer ya if yer deputy comes through fer me. she says standing up. Now I believe we will be taking that drink afore we leave. Will ye join us?
Queshem just sips her drink and watches as she tries and get some more information from the halfling
Queshem's a bit obvious about her information gathering but she has paid Jagen enough to make him chatty. He pours some of the excellent brandy and talks about the island.
The halflfing mentions yet another treasure hunting expedition to the center of the island is gone missing. Ysilde, a half-crazy half-elf who keeps funding these expeditions, is nearly bankrupt. Queshem notes Draflo recognizes the name but says nothing.
he mentions an uptick in attacks from the Rampore Islands, the slaver nation tot he north. Long in a feud with raffles, Greenbarrow mentions things have escalated lately.
Lastly (and the drinking working on him a bit), he mentions some weird new cult down at the docks, just whispers. Something from up north. No details yet but sounds creepy.
Taking her leave of the halfling Queshesm casts Detect Magic at a moment where he isn't around and neither are the front footmen or any other natives.
Retrieving her weapons Queshem walks back to the ship in a thoughtful frame of mind This Raffles business be having my hackles up. Ye think we can sneak in to the mansion by magic and see if there be something odd up in there? Just a quick look.
Also, ye seem to know this Ysilde person. Anything I should know?
Draflo eyes the mansion thoughtfully, "It doesn't seem build for defense. Yes, it is low and made of stone, but I see plenty of windows and no walls. You might have to pick a few locks however."
Then she frowns, 'You need to talk to Xaikon. I think he has a sermon against breaking and entering as well as bribery. You were very quick to offer that man some coin. Does Abadar approve?"
Of corruption? No, he don't. Queshem responds But that halfling be hiding something about Raffles and I was hoping that the coin would get us some clues. Queshem raises her hands I know what you be saying, I'll not be pushing to get the fee refunded if that what you be worried about though it do mean we need to replenish our supplies some other way. Our true purpose here be to get on the good side of Raffles and that not be possible if I don't even meet the man yes?
Draflo shakes his head and adds, "I know you mean well, but the ends don't always justify the means."
Then she goes on, "I know Ysilde. She is a famed researcher and scholar of the Shackles, and we studied at a few of the same libraries and universities. I didn't know her well, but I knew she was brilliant and very dedicated to her work. I didn't know she was living here though..."
Yar, I got kinda roped into it. Initially I was just looking to negotiate with the man himself. With the toady I was sure that me threatening to get into the rest of the house would get him to cough up some info on Raffles Queshem shakes her head. In any case no harm, no foul if the gold I spent only gets me info rather'n special favours. So Treasures, and Rampores, and cults, let's go see yer old mate fer now. Does Rampore or cults ring any bells?
The half-elf shakes her head at cults, "I don't know anything about that. I shall consult my books."
"As for Rampore, yes. A very nasty place. It is run by renegade rakshasas, immoral outsiders. They are the central pillar to the Shackles slave trade, but are far more interested in cruelty then profit. A busy port, for those with not thought for mercy, it has one of the biggest harbors and ship repair facilities in the entire island chain."
That be two islands then that we be needing to bring to heel. And neither by naval assualt Queshem grouses I cannee think they be well liked by anyone. Even the other slavers.
Draflo nods, "No, they have few allies. They are not even on the Pirate Council, as far as I know. But they have a strong fleet and deep pockets. We'd need an armada to attack them."
Queshem asks around to find out where Ysilde lives and they are soon walking just out of town, up a small hill overlooking the town and dock. Below Queshem cans pot her two ships at anchor, rocking in the slight surf. As always the sight of them safe and sound eases her mind.
Then she turns inland and sees an odd building. It is a short, squat tower made of the local gray stone. Sitting at the peak of the hill, the roof is flat and apparently has a few small..tents set up on it as if someone was camping up there.
'A very odd residence." Draflo remarks.
Feels like someone who wants a good view of the place. Made custom too. Was this friend of yours rich one upon a time? Not so now seems like.
"I don't recall her being that wealthy..."
Together the two of them stroll up to the entrance. There is no door, just a passage cut into the stone. There is no rooms inside, or foyer, just a stone staircase spiraling upwards.
'Do we, erm, knock?" Draflo asks, peering up the staircase.
Queshem moves to the opening and calls inside Ho in there. Does this be the home of Ysilde?
There is no sound, but it is a long way up.
Draflo smiles, 'She may be absorbed in her studies? Sometimes, when I am immersed, someone could light my toes on fire and I wouldn't notice." She frowns then, recalling, 'Actually, I think Polos has done that one already."
No reason not to go slow and see what be happening in there. Queshesm says and casts Detect Magic. You feel anything odd happenin' magic wise in there?
Queshem advances in while making sure to inspect the place carefully, unslinging her crossbow as she goes.
We be coming in. she calls in I be Queshem and I be with Draflo, a friend of yours!
"I don't detect anything..." After Queshem shouts up, Draflo says, a pained look on her face, "Let's not say friend. I only met her a few times."
Queshem notes the tower is old, very old. It certainly predates Slipcove and all the halflings.
Carefully they enter the winding staircase. After a few rounds, they see piles of books alongside, only leaving a narrow path of stone in between. Draflo, as usual, become fixated on the books, pulling some out and looking at spines.
"What a collection!" The half-elf mutters, "Gabroung's Study of the Wandering Stars, Ealdron Lor's The Dance of Night....an original copy of Pax's An Overview of the Cosmos?! These are worth a fortune."
As they climb, Draflo keeps calling out book covers, most of them dealing with astronomy or astrology. Here and there a star-chart or some other esoteric map is tacked to the wall.
Finally they reach the top and the staircase empties them out onto the flat top of the Tower. Across it lies a few small tents, looking quite worn and weather-beaten.
In the center of the flat space is a body, lying face up, unmoving.
**
On the way up
**
Only worth a fortune if ye find a buyer Abadar knows Queshem grins
Queshem frowns and gestures for Draflo to stop. She creeps forward slowly being as careful as possible to avoid triggering something terrible. Once she's thirty feet away she reaches out magically to examine the corpse.
If it's safe she motions Draflo forward. Ye see or sense anything dangerous?
Queshem examines the body through her spell, hands folder over her chest, eyes shut. Then the pirate realizes she is breathing, and is at ease, eyes moving slightly under the lids.
'I don't detect anything, what is wrong?" Dralfo says, already starting to cast some spell.
Praise Abadar, she be sleeping, not dead. Queshem breathes.
Queshem considers the clues. Sleeping during the daytime and all Star maps, and books on star lore.
I think Ysilde there be a committed star gazer and we be interrupting her sleep time.
She says lowering her crossbow. She looks over at Draflo. What do ye think, should we wake the owl or come back at twilight?
Draflo sighs relif and says, 'I don't know.." her foot half-steps into the roof and an Alarm spell goes off. The ringing of a deep bell sounds and Draflo looks embarrassed. 'I wonder why I didn't sense that.."
At the sound of the bell the figure jumps to her feet, quite nimbly. She turns a pair of brown eyes toward them, blinking. "Hello? Who are you?"
Ah sorry fer interruptin ye. I be Queshem, this be I believe an old acquaintance, Draflo. We just put to port and heard ye were here and decided to pay a visit. Also heard that ye've been having.. difficulties of some sort?
The elf looks at them, her eyes keen and sharp. She walks over to them waving, "Come on up, it is perfectly safe."
She looks at Draflo, obviously thinking over centuries of acquaintances. "Draflo...Draflo...oh yes, Abrox Draflo, a promising young scholar from Absalom. How are you?"
Her face is a bit puzzled as she considers Queshem, "Difficulties? Nothing that a sailor can help much, sadly. Most of my problems are inland these days." She waves a pale, thin hand at the interior of the island, where a dark green jungle abounds.
Ye seem to be looking fer something. Related to yer stargazing? Queshem says peering outside herself.
Ysilde raises an eyebrow, "You don't know of my work? Then why visit me?"
She shrugs then, as if used to this, "My stargazing has a purpose, as all study should. I am endevouring to use current star and meteorites patterns to re-trace where a meteor fell in the past."
"Hundreds of years ago, legends tell of a star falling onto this island. The rude sailors had no idea what they saw but I conjecture that it was a chunk of sky-metal, valuable beyond price. By charts and formulas have given me a rough location of where it fell, but so far all my seekers have failed." Frustration enters her voice, "None of them had the skill or patience to follow my instructions. But if they had...the reward,t he reward would be huge."
Then she waves her hands, 'I doubt you came to listen to an old lady ramble. Although I am not sure why you came, to be honest."
Queshem sighs Running ships be an expensive undertaking and I find myself running a bit low on funds. These others adventurers of yers. They came back alive yes? Or no? What do ye mean they were not able to follow yer instructions?
Ysilde turns back, interest in her eyes, "Interesting, although I'd prefer you were in it for academic reason, not financial ones." Draflo looks a bit hurt but the elf goes on, pacing.
"That is the only reason they have failed. I have given them charts, maps, guides. And still they fail. What else could it be? My information is accurate." She stops, and speaks slower, "None of have back, not from one of my adventures. Oh, there are a hundred down at the taverns that will sell you 'treasure maps' and sometimes they come back, dying of hunger or some jungle rot. But those that take my offer, so far they have failed in silence."
She smiles then, "Not encouraging, I know."
Star Metals? Thought they were all in Numeria. Queshem says thoughtfully Tell ye what. Draflo loves findin' new things and I'd like to make some coin to fund me own purposes. Could be we be able to hit both targets with one bolt here. Draflo are ye okay with stayin' and goin' over these charts fer a little while? I'll come back after my other appointment. I canne promise ye anything Ysilde, I already lost one of me crew to a fool's errand and I don't aim to add others to that. But if Draflo thinks it be worthwhile then ye might have found yet another crew to throw into this quest of yours
Queshem smiles.
"Sky metal is the proper term." Ysilde says, exasperated like a well-meaning teacher. "Although some of the common folk use the term Star Metal, it is inaccurate."
Draflo hides a smile and says, with obvious eagerness, "I'll stay here and go over the charts."
The elf then nods, "Then I will see you later, Captain Queshem, and hopefully this job will appeal to you."
Queshem grins taking the correction in stride. I'll see ye two later then. Ye have fun now. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Queshem makes her way out and back to town. And heads back to her ships. She wants to see how Parcell and Tound are doing with the slave interviews.
Queshem walks alone back to town, taking in the sights and sounds of the pleasant little city. After such time aboard ship it is odd to be alone, without the constant press of bodies or demands of the vessel.
Finally, at the docks, she greets Tound and Parcell.
"We have narrowed it down, Captain." Parcell says. "Most of them were not sailors at all. Apparently they Chelish slaves being sold to Sargava. Landlubbers. Only a few sailors in the mix."
He waves a hand at a group of six men standing clumped together.
'What do you want to know?" Tound asks, questioningly. It sounds almost like a test.
Queshem sighs wearily, she's going to need to have a talk with Tound pretty soon. She's supposed to be testing him. And what was the point of delegation if one of the delegators insisted on getting her to step him through step by step what she expected him to take care of?
Well fer one how long they were asea afore they were captured. What positions they had. How'd they get captured? Then I want to know if they were any good at the job by asking 'em simple questions that any one o' their station would know. Then how physically capable they still be. Then how loyal they be. I'll take care of the last one. How much of the first few did ye get through with these six?
PArcell shakes his head, 'We asked all of that. Most of these are locals, either fisherman or sailors before. Nothing too unusual, just common seaman, a mate, a ropemaker and a healer's mate."
Tound goes on, "We tested them, most checked out. The ones who were lying we let go, after a tongue lashing. We had on fellow who swore he was a gunner but didn't know carriage from cutlass."
Just a single glance tells Queshem they are fit enough. Years at the oars made the muscles hard and strong, and being more experienced, they got what food was available. Unlike some of the other slaves, they are filled out and tough.
'Loyalty is all yours." Parcell says, waving a tattooed arm at them.
Queshem walks up to the group and starts without preamble. I'm going to be casting a spell on ye fer truth tellin'. Ye won't like it but there's a lot of things that happen asea under a captain that ye won't like. I aim to run a tight crew. So I expect ye to be loyal. I expect ye to follow orders. Ye mess with the good order of my boats and I will have ye tossed overboard. Do ye understand me?
Then she casts Zone of Truth on them. Will ye serve me loyally? is her first question.
She sees faces tighten as she casts the spell. Even in the harsh world aboard ship a Truth spell is invasive.
'Do you do this often?" One them, a black skinned Garundi, mutters.
Queshem notes Rabbis, the 'leader' is here, unsurprisingly. The man did seem to know sailing.
All of them answers in the affirmative, some of them grumbling, some willingly.
"Are we full members with full pay or not?' Another asks, a ruddy skinned woman, with thick arms and a worn face.
Queshem ignores the question for a moment as she looks away from the aspiring members of her crew to look back at the two ships.
Don't blame ye fer not liking this. Hate to have it done to me sure enough. But the men and women that do be serving on me crew be the most important thing in the world to me. I can't control the weather, I can't control where the cannon ball falls or what sea monster we come across. Truth tell there be very little under anyone's control out on the deep blue
She turns back So what I can control I make no apologies fer. I ain't hiring workers. I'm findin' people that I'd be willin' to die fer, and be willing to die fer me.
Queshem waves her hand to get rid of the spell. So tell me true, the sea be holding terrible memories for ye. Why in the blue hell do ye want to go back out?
As the spell dissipates the men and women visibly relax.
The answers are prosaic, the Garundi speaking for all of them, 'The sea is all I have known. What would I do on land? Find a woman, start a farm?" he smiles at the absurd idea. 'The sea, she is in my blood. Gozreh can be a difficult god, but he is honest and straightforward. Our lives are the sea and we will serve you as loyally as any ship."
Rabbis speaks then, "The question of pay was not about the money. None of us will ever be rich." A chuckle, 'Or even comfortable. We only want to know if we will be treated the same. Many the ship where part of the crew is treated better, fed better, given better jobs. It is not good when you are on the bottom on such a ship."
Queshem grins Nah, ye be full members of the crew. Parcell, Tound, show 'em their bunks and get 'em settled yeah?
She turns back to the new sailors before they head in Ye stay loyal to me and I'll stay loyal to ye. Ye think yer being treated differently then the others then Rabbis can give me the message and we'll see. I want ye to learn from the others as I aim to be more navy like than pirate like yeah? Life of a sailor is hard, but better than the life of a slave yeah? Welcome aboard
The men nod, and reply, 'Aye, aye, Captain!" with some vigor. Going back to the sea as free men is the most they expect out of life. Tound and Parcell take them, nodding approvingly. Apparently they think Queshem handled it well.
She finds Polos (overseeing some fighting training), and heads to the tavern indicated. As they walk Polos asks how the day went . The young fighter seems a bit on edge and when pressed says, "That Xaikon...I don't know. Something about him seems off, Captain. Not sure what..."
The Dripping Bough is a well-built, halfling run tavern in the middle of town. Clean, with white walls and a red roof, it is obviously a local landmark. The beehives on the roof are quiet as the sun sets, but the place is getting crowded. Queshem and Polos both have to duck a little to get in under the door, but the room inside is homey enough.
The common room is crowded with halflings drinking, gambling, singing, dancing. It is a lively crowd, full of laughter and jokes.
'Can I help you?" a pretty young halflfing woman says, dusting her hands on her bright red apron. "New to town?"
Aye, in port for a few days maybe, was hoping to get a drink and see what be happening around town. Make friends and the like. Queshem grins Hope ye be having a table fer us?
Queshem buys everyone in the tavern a round once they get settled in.
The young woman smiles, 'I am sure we can squeeze you in." A cheer resounds when they find out Queshem is buying. She is soon being plied with questions about her ship, where she hails, what she is carrying and the like.
Polo gets caught up in an arm wrestling match while Queshem is asked to join a little dart throwing game going on in a smoky corner.
Queshem lets it be known that they're new in the Shackles from the Inner Sea, looking to make a name for themselves, and just found a chance to free some slaves and took it.
In return she tries to find out
* About Raffles, she's been trying to meet him as she's heard good things. Is he always a recluse? If no when did he become one?
* Any folks looking to buy a slightly used former slaving ship that would give a good price?
* How's Bay Island doing overall?
* What's the deal with Ysilde?
* Any odd folks about?
In that order of priority.
Plenty to talk about and Queshem's a good conversationalist. She sips her mug slowly of course as she plays darts and mingles. She lets the conversations develop naturally. She can always come back some other time to delve into other topics.
At her story about the slaves, she is greeted with a roar of approval and more drinks then she can swallow passed her way. Here, at least,t he classic stereotype of Bag Island comes through. It becomes clear most of these men and women had been slaves, either in the Shackles or somewhere else. To them, Queshem is a hero.
Queshem actually wins the dart game, and earns more drinks.
She asks questions, keeping in the casual atmosphere of the place. Raffles is popular (nearly a god to some) but hasn't been seen very much in the last few years. He often used to go to sea for long periods but even that has become rare.
She doesn't find any ship purchasers, Slipcove is a bit too small. She does hear that Quent, a major city on the nearbye island of Motaku is always buying and selling. After asking around a bit more, she hears rumors that at Beachomber, another town on Bag Island, there might be a buyer for an old ship.
Bag Island, itself, is it's usual quiet prosperous self. As a magnet for halflings throughout the Shackles and Inner Sea, there is always a supply of fresh emigrants. Still, many are concerned about the increase in attacks from Rampore Isles. The slavers there are hated more then any others. And Queshem barely hears rumors of a strange new cult but can learn nothing else.
Ysilde is considered a strange hermit, who wastes her time and money at expeditions inland. While it is commonly accepted there is treasure up there, (indicated with a wave of the hand), no one things she has any more idea then anyone else at where it is located. To put her mind at ease she learns some of the previous expeditions have come back, but often just leave rather then face the elf's displeasure at failing.
Before she gets a chance to ask about strangers, the door opens again. A portly, well-dressed halfling steps in, flanked by an armed human. The talk and laughter die back a bit as the halfling looks around. Seeing Queshem, he waves imperiously and walks to a small side door.
He enters the room, and the armed man watches the door. When Queshem approaches he says, in a thick Shackles accent, 'No blades inside." As if by magic Polos is at her side, saying, "We have a problem, Captain?"
The smoky air of the crowded tavern is suddenly tense.