With only a small measure of feigned outrage, Nine-Toes asserts, "I was gonna tell'em you guys kicked in a little cash... I just hadn't got around to it yet."
Search Posts
Burt wipes the cold sweat from his brow. His reaction is quick. ”No, Ma’am! I don’t disapprove of nuthin’.”
Burt’s nerves are palpable. ”Uh, nuthin’… ma’am.”
The pig strolls into the tavern, oinks on spotting his mistress, and trots toward the team’s table. Burt’s growl is decisive. ”I said NO anima…” He stops short when the crystalline cat leaps onto the pig’s back and regards him coolly with her gemstone eyes.
A couple hours later our heroes preside over a ruined table and are polishing off a robust meal, washed down with ale, beer, ‘tea’, or wine (depending on the drinker’s preference). Nine-Toes enters the tavern and makes a bee-line for the table, plopping himself down with a dramatic sigh. ”Well, that was some work, I’ll tell ya! But everything is sold and offloaded.” He waits for applause or something. When it doesn’t come, he clears his throat and presses on. ”I got you fair value on all them goods. Those crates of mushrooms were worth a pretty copper.” He deals a metallic ‘card’ to each of you, like you are about to play Poker. ”These are your notes of credit with the Bank. You each have a box now. I figured this’d be better than dropping 250 pounds of gold on ya.” You examine the card. Etched into the surface is your name, your current address, an account number, and an amount... all stated in both your preferred tongue and Canto. The amount on each card reads:
She shrugged and looked at the ladies before nodding to the man in response. "Work...for Yash." "A'right. Where will you be?"
Odelai peels off as you arrive at Nine-Toes’ office, where he is already waiting for you. The paunchy yet wiry man is delighted with the fully laden cart. He checks his manifest against the goods and is even more content... digging in to the fish barrel to make sure he has the Medusa's Mask. ”Great job! So I owe you 1500 gold for the recovery and to name-drop you around town. Better news, I was able to sell that wand you left for about 63% of market value . If ya want, I can sell the rest of these good for ya and get you all the cash in one lump sum. I’ll need a few hours. Does that work for ya?”
"I'd say so! A cat that could do this would be quite the problem! So, this place closed due to cat problems, but where did the cats go after that?" The barkeep smiles. "A couple of them still visit from time to time."
With the meeting on the dock at an end, Uller rises and takes his leave, "The cart will be waiting for you all here tomorrow. Thanks for the help."
"And if you can't get it all for whatever reason, the priorities should be: mask, wine cases, barrels of booze, fabric, barrels of fruit, then fish." He pulls a rumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it before sliding it across the table. 12 Cases of Wine (House Margeaux)
Uller's laugh is uncomfortable, to say the least. "Alright. Sounds like we got the makings of a deal here. Do you need the other lady, Sabelina, to agree? She seemed a little put out at the last deal." "There's one more piece you need to know. The bolts of fabric are a want not a need... but not the only one. The real treasure is some sort of art object. I've got a collector here that already bought it from some guy in Absolom. And the collector is not someone I want to disappoint. The thing is a golden mask that looks like a medusa's face, you know with the snake-hair? It's not magical or anything, just 'art'. Anyhow, that piece is buried in one of the barrels of salted fish. The company name on the barrel is Honest to Cod. I need that mask most of all."
Uller's legs close unconsciously. "HEY! HEY! Easy now! This is friendly chat."
"I think the only reasonable interpretation of Yash's verbosity is that we should get half of Uller's profit for our efforts." She grins over at Yash, "Then again, maybe he meant that he was offering me half of his cut?" She shrugs, "It's hard to tell." Uller looks momentarily alarmed, then mutters, ”Sure as Hell, I hope that isn’t what he meant by ‘half’. I’m not made of gold.” She looks back up at Uller, "I'll ask Sali, but I see no reason to disbelieve you. Yash does bring up a good point, though. What are you offering us for this effort? And why should we take your offer over any others that come in?" ”This is free enterprise. If you get offers from my competitors, and the deal seems square, go take it! But, so far, my competition see you folks as upright citizen material. They don’t see you cutting deals with people like me. Maybe one of them will make a pass at you, maybe not. But if you retrieve my cargo, they’ll know you have some wiggle room on the types of work you do. That could open doors for you.” ”My offer is this. I give you a cart and oxen. You run it up to the boat. If it’s the Widow, you grab my cargo and return it. You get 1500 Gold and I’ll let the gray market know you are open to offers. If it’s not the Widow, you get 500 Gold – just for a brisk ride in the country.”
Mama nods in agreement with Xing's concerns. "Are the Needs ... Needed... enough to justify a trip out there? And if they are, why isn't the Guild helping? "The Guild has no reason to want us entrepreneurs to be successful. They think we bite into their bottom line. We're a flea bite, but they hate losing even that much blood. With the transit bell having rung, they are busy recallin' all their agents right now. Even if they were willin' to help me, they'd look at the small amount of goods, weigh it against the potential risks, and tell me not to let the door hit me in the ass on my way out. And rich merchants are rarely willing to get in a scrap to collect cargo, particularly someone else's."
”What is this merchant’s name, and what is his ship?” She pauses, a scowl scrunching her forehead as she leans back to rest her weight on her arms. ”I don’t typically like working with smugglers. But it sounds like he’s carrying some of Threshold’s ‘needs’ in his ship?” ”It’s more of a big boat than a proper ship. She’s called the Gambler’s Widow and her Captain is Tyr Jax. Curly hair, flamboyant clothes, and an eye-patch. They are carrying needed supplies… but not critical ones. No one is gonna starve in Threshold without’em. Our bit of the ship’s cargo are barrels of rum, liquor, and wine. There are also some cases of more expensive wines, several bolts of rich cloth – more of a want than a need there – along with a couple barrels of preserved exotic fruits and a few barrels of salted fish.” She pauses to get his affirmation before continuing. ”My goal is to create a positive reputation here in Threshold. That being the case, will we create problems for ourselves — mostly with Threshold’s leaders or this Merchant’s Guild — if we are seen to help him out?” Despite being the subject of, not a participant in, this part of the conversation, Uller pipes in. ”Some of that booze is slated for the Slattern and Crossroads. I think they’d be grateful if you recovered their goods. Ask Salli about it. That said, the Council and the Guild will have no problem with you retrieving goods that are going into the community. The only bad blood you might see is from some of my competitors. You are gaining a reputation here and they’d prefer you work with them rather than me. You can likely expect offers from them.”
Nine-Toes pulls up a chair and lays the matter out in hushed tones.
"About a week ago, I had a ship that was supposed to make a delivery of 'needs' and a couple 'wants'. It didn't show. I’ve known the Captain for years. He’s a hothead, and a daredevil, and a smuggler but a pretty honest one, far as that goes. But, he isn’t above trying to squeeze me for extra coin if he thinks he’s got an edge. So, I figured maybe he got to snooping and found the ‘want’ hidden among the ‘needs’ and decided to miss his delivery, sweat me for a few days, then renegotiate our deal.” ”But it’s been a week with no word. And last night a little birdy told me a boat that looked to be flying the right colors was stuck on a sandbar a day north of here. Maybe they just got stuck, maybe it’s the wrong boat and my goods are gone, or maybe that bastard intended to renegotiate and got hisself stuck in the meantime. Any way it gets sliced, we’ve got seven days til transit. I need to know if that’s the right boat and if so, I need my cargo.” He stops, giving you a chance to digest the matter and ask questions.
Xing and Yash detect no lie or any hint of evasion in what Uller is saying. It seems he is giving you the unvarnished truth. Given the team's responses, particularly Yash's ominous "Not again", Uller isn't sure if his next statement is gonna fly, fall flat, or he can expect Yash's meaty fist in his face. "Well, since you asked, I've got this other job that could use doin'... I mentioned it before the whole sewer fiasco. I said it might take a bit of force and maybe require 'negotiating' with unsavory types. Any of that ringin' a bell with you?" "With us leavin' soon, I gotta get this done. I'll give you everythin' I know, even the parts I'd rather not say... and it pays pretty well. Wanna hear about it?" "AND, and, to show I'm serious here, I'll hock that magical glowstick for you - free of charge - if you don't want to keep it. I'll get you as close to top price as I can. It's valuable."
Uller sighs at the clearly hostile audience. He keeps his hands raised. ”I screwed the goat. OK? I didn’t scope out the sewer before sending you in. I was lazy and careless. A’right? I’m sorry. I was stupid and you folks got a tit caught in the wringer… and that is entirely on me. I’m sorry. BUT I did not do any of that on purpose… I’m a self-serving prick, right? Guilty as charged. You don’t need to trust me… but you can trust that I am always looking out for my own best interests. I take care of me… I don’t see any of you denying that. So, what happened in the sewer… getting’ you hurt would gain me nothin’ and lose me A LOT. I know this town. You matter here. If any of you got killed or crippled down there, the Council would land on me, hard. Odelai or someone like her would twist every truth out of me and then drop my ass down that hole to the lower sewer. They wouldn’t even give me a quick death first. I’d be down the well and they’d watch me die horribly. So, there is NO profit for me in getting you hurt. Absolutely none.” ”Yes, I’m lazy, and a greedy bastard, and I got you into a bad situation… but I wasn’t trying to get you hurt on purpose. So, I’m sorry.”
Up the dock, strolls Uller Nine-Toes, clearly heading in your direction. You'd call his look sheepish, but determined. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture as he gets into earshot range. "Hold it. Hold it. I come to apologize. Will you hear me out?"
Herve and Racine consider Sabelina's argument and confer. Bob adds to Sabelina's argument, "This creature has caused some deaths. We're being very thorough and checking every possible location with a chimney. My commander is going to make it hard on me if I skip your lovely home."
After a brief debate, the couple nods, leaves the door open, and moves out to the street where the other watchman escorts them away.
The husband considers the question while his wife blinks at the revelation and says, "Well, that hardly seems likely. It's just us here and I haven't seen or heard anything. Have you, Herve?" Herve shakes his head, "Not a thing... and our house isn't exactly large. If there was another person here, I'd think we'd know it - stealthy or no. I know you've got a job to do... but I really think you're barking up the wrong tree here."
Bob shakes his head. ”I take orders, not give’em, ma’am.”
Breck clinks his tankard against Xing's. "I've got no problem with that. And it all worked out anyway. No harm, no foul."
Breck nods at Xing's question and gives her a thumbs up.
Xing doesn't have to look far for a familiar face. Across the table from her, speaking quietly with Yash, is Breck the stubble-faced stevedore. He locks eyes with the monk briefly then gives her a polite nod, seemingly without malice.
Uller deflates. "That's fair."
Uller scratches his chin and adds, ”I know a little about them. They’re called Skulks. Lazy, cowardly, and mean creatures that live on the fringes, doin’ whatever is easiest to get by – theft mostly and murder if it makes it simpler to steal what they want. They got chameleon hides that lets them blend into walls and such. With a bit of thief skills, they’re a hazard. They’re more like to run away unless they got a strong leader to follow. And they're usually in small groups... or maybe you see a band of them. Any more than that and their crimes draw too much attention. The one that came flying out got past me. He could be anywhere, chameleoning to a wall.” He belatedly appends a respectful, "Ma'am."
Uller looks quite nervous and his tone towards Odelai is deferential. ”Well, ma’am, we periodically got to clean the sewers, as you know. I enlisted these folks to do that for a fee and geared them up. I did NOT know there was anything more dangerous that cockroaches or carrion eaters lurking in there. That’s what we’ve seen before. Gods’ honest truth. The gate was locked like it always is. I heard a scuffle early on and poked my head in. They had already polished off a bunch of roaches, so I didn’t think anything was amiss. I didn’t think there was a problem til one of these tall skinny bastards lit straight out of the sewer and nearly bowled me over. That’s when I called for the Guard.”
"I mean don't do either. The big drain leads to the lower level. You don't want to go down there - on accident or on purpose. There's beasts down there that eat garbage, flesh, bone, maybe even metal. And they ain't picky about what's what. If you get kill't, I gotta answer to the Cat and Council. I don't need that grief."
Uller nods and scribbles, "Writing... I'll see what I can find." He cheers up considerably at the mention of Sabelina's disreputable friends. "Well, maybe you are the right folk for the job, then! But I gotta know you'll finish what you start when push comes to shove. Reputation is gold here and my name is on the line as well. Tell you what... Let's do a try-out. If you can handle a real sh!tty task like pros, you'll get first crack at that other piece of business. Sound good?" "Here's the score. We've got us a fancy drainage system beneath the city. Periodically, it gets blocked with filth. Water starts to back up or pour out where it shouldn't. I need some folks to go in with tools and clear the muck from the upper level of the system. Just to make sure the water runs like it is supposed to. I supply the tools. You supply the muscle. Job shouldn't take more than half a day and pays 200 gold total plus whatever you find that's worth keeping. Are you in or out?"
The journey back to Dockside is a blur of images and impressions:
While some of our heroes are already feeling their pennies pinched, stopping briefly at Crossroads to say goodbye to Kat provides everyone with more impetus to earn. They enter the tavern to witness the tail end of an argument as the slender bartender points out that a group of customers owes the tavern 50 gold (10 gp per drink per hobgoblin), not 10 gold for the entire round of drinks. They quibble with her until she explains they can pay in coin, or services (the bar could use a good mopping), or their blood and services. Something in her tone and carriage indicates the third option would be a mistake. Those that can, pay in coin. A couple others start cleaning around the bar… Traveling through Market Square, our heroes receive several nods, a number of smiles, and even a few ‘welcomes’. It seems clear that the Threshold placard communication system is efficient… As our heroes enter Low Gate, you recall that the man to see for odd jobs and gainful employment is Uller Nine-Toes. Asking around, you find Uller’s ‘office’ at the end of a cramped alley, behind a door that scrapes against the jamb as it opens, closes, or just stands still. His office appears to be a retrofitted broom closet, stuffed with all manner of junk surrounding a beat-up desk with only three legs. Fortunately, the missing leg is counterbalanced by Uller’s ass taking up space on the opposite corner. For all the exotic and interesting races you’ve met to date, Uller is disconcertingly ordinary – a wiry but paunchy middle-aged human with a shifty disposition and a love/hate relationship with soap and water. He recounts what you’ve told him so far, pointing with the stub of a pencil when he isn’t scribbling notes. He looks to Cookie first, ”You want to cook but not regular hours. Same idea for taking care of rugrats. I don’t have anything like that now, but I’ll ask around. Gimme a few days.” Uller glances at Xing, ”You wanna bartend and you’re gonna talk to Salli about that. If that don’t work, try the Caterwaul. I think one of their guys got stabbed and they could use some new blood.” He guffaws at his own joke. He takes in the rest of the crew, ”And the rest of you are just interested in getting coin, izzat right?” He rubs his chin in thought, the question being largely rhetorical. ”We’ve been in this dump near a month, so the pickings are pretty slim right now…” A calculating look crosses his face. ”I’ve got a job but I’m not sure you’re the right crew for it. It could require a little bit of force and a willingness to negotiate with unsavory types. You squeamish about any of that?”
Yash and Jagdaz… orcy stuff ” Strzegmy karawan Thresholda. Kupcy kupują, sprzedają i wymieniają towary, gdziekolwiek się udamy. To, co tu powszechne, gdzie indziej jest egzotyczne. Powinieneś iść zobaczyć Rynek, wtedy zrozumiesz. Przez większość czasu problemów jest niewiele. Czasami zdarzają się bandyci.” Ork: ”We guard Threshold’s caravans. The merchants buy, sell, and trade goods everywhere we go. What is common here is exotic somewhere else. You should go see Market Square, then you will understand. Most of the time, there are few problems. Sometimes, there are bandits.”
Yash and Jagdaz… orcy stuff Jagdaz deflates somewhat. ”Jeszcze nie wiem. Nie mam ducha dziadka, który by mnie prowadził, więc moja ścieżka jest błotnista. Wiem, że to, co robię, co my robimy…” he makes a sweeping gesture with his clawed hand. ”to, co robimy istotne tutaj... To miejsce, ci ludzie – czymkolwiek są – my, ludzie, krasnoludy, gnolle, nawet elfy… wszyscy są tutaj jednym Plemieniem. I zaczynam czuć, że też jestem częścią tego Plemienia.” Ork: Jagdaz deflates. ”I don’t know, yet. I don’t have a grandfather spirit to guide me, so my path is muddy. I know that what I do, what we do…” he sweeps a clawed hand indicating the other orcs and then expands the gesture to indicate many of the others in the tavern, ”what we do matters here.” He struggles to explain. ”This place, these people – whatever they are – us, the humans, the dwarves, the gnolls, even the elves… they are all one Tribe here. And I am starting to feel that I am part of this Tribe, too.”
Xing and the Stevedore…
Breck listens to Xing but, from the looks that pass across his face, he disagrees with some of her statements. He takes a puff on the pipe and taps out the largely unsmoked bowl into the water. ”Here’s a fact anywhere in the world, not just Threshold… you don’t go from being an outsider to an insider by being pushy. And you just keep pushing. Want answers? Ask the Architect. It is her show.” He blows the remaining ash from his pipe and puts it away as he stands to leave. ”You said you’re sorry. Prove it. Leave Anselm alone. If I hear about you or any of your friends talking to him, I’ll know your apology and your word don’t mean sh!t. That’s a bell you can’t unring. And, in Threshold, your reputation means everything. That’s a bit of insider-to-outsider help for you.” Having said all that he cares to, Breck gives Xing a wide berth as he walks back up the dock. He pauses briefly to wrap up a loose thread. ”The placard isn’t blank. To every ‘insider’, it shows our covenant, our commitments, and our rules. There’s even a couple notes about you and your friends.” He leaves the dock without looking back.
Xing and the Stevedore… Breck listens but shows little emotion at Xing’s words and overlooks her conclusion. ”Maybe it’s just me or maybe working on a dock everyday but I never like smoking indoors. Let’s smoke on the dock.” He makes a point of stuffing his pipe then heading for the door, clearly expecting Xing to accompany him. In no apparent hurry, Breck ambles out of the Slattern, past a couple working girls hovering near the entrance. He strolls out to one of the hip-high pilings supporting the dock. He leans against it briefly to light his pipe and take a preliminary puff. He waits until Xing is watching before he purposefully taps the stem of his pipe on a small blank placard that is built into the piling. Then he walks down the pier, past a tied off boat, to the very end, and sits on another high piling, also bearing a blank placard. He glances around, making sure they are alone. He takes a few puffs on his pipe before speaking. ”I get it. You’ve got questions. You’re caught in a strange situation and you wanna sort out what’s what. It’s understandable. But what you did back there… you put that kid in a bad spot. Hell, you put me in a bad spot and I’m not out of it yet. Yeah, our community is unusual. You wouldn’t have those questions if you hadn’t figured that out. Our community has rules too – good rules mostly – that keep things working like they need to.” He taps on the empty placard near his knee. ”What do you see here?”
Yash and Jagdaz… Jagdaz takes no offense at Yash’s comments, but counters, ”Nie było jasne. Elfy zostały obalone dawno temu, kuzynie. Minęło już ponad 300 lat... ...czy po prostu podążał swoją prawdziwą ścieżką? I czy ja też nie mogłem podążać moją prawdziwą ścieżką?” Ork:
”I wasn’t clear. The Elves were overthrown long ago, cousin. It has been over 300 years. None trespass anywhere in the Realm. It is a death sentence for them, on sight. Our country and our tribes are strong. I was just one more soldier among many there. But here I have greater purpose.”
”And even if I had left a war for this, would that make me a coward? You follow where the spirits guide you. If they led you here, during a war, would you be a coward or just following your true path? And could I not be following my true path, as well?”
Yash and Jagdaz… Orcy stuff… about wondering why the spirits brought you here. ”Nie oznaczało to zniewagi. Szanuję twoją ścieżkę, Wędrowiec Duchów.” Jagdaz laughs, ”Wiele osób kłóci się o to, dlaczego tu są. Tyle pomysłów słyszałem, ile wejść przez ścianę. Nie mogę odpowiedzieć na to pytanie.” Ork:
”No insult meant. I respect your path, Spirit Walker.” Jagdaz laughs, ”Many people argue about why they are here. I have heard as many ideas as there are entrances through the wall. I can’t answer that question.”
”Starożytnymi panami niewolników na całym moim świecie były elfy… Wysokie Elfy. Ich wyścig jest już prawie zakończony. Ostatni z nich się chowa... Jak wyszedłem? Próg.” Ork: ”The ancient slavemasters of all on my world were the Elves… the High Elves. Their race is nearly ended now. The last of them hide… How did I leave? Threshold.”
Xing and the Stevedores… ”Most people I’ve worked with on the docks prefer blunt honesty. I know I do. And you both look like you’re trying hard not to say something. I’d find it refreshing if you just said it plain.”
The mood at the table turns from jovial to uncomfortable in an instant. Both men stare at Xing silently. Refining her initial assessment, Xing realizes that Anselm looks uncomfortable and Breck looks angry. Breck turns to Anselm, ”Kid, time to head home. Enjoy your evening.” Anselm quickly excuses himself and leaves. Breck’s eyes are hard and his gaze never leaves Xing. He pulls a pipe from his pocket and taps it on the tables to clear the ash, asking offhandedly, ”Do you smoke, Xing?”
Xing and the Stevedores… (sounds like a 50’s band name) Finally, with a sigh to screw up her courage, she steps over and gives the stevedores a small bow. "Good afternoon. I guess since you're here, the docks are quiet right now? Any interesting new ships come in? I'd say I'm looking for a way to find some excitement, but the plaza definitely had more than enough of that today." The stevedores look at Xing, then one another as if reaching a silent agreement. The fellow across the table from Xing, pushes an empty chair out with his foot, offering it to her with a smile. ”Take a load off! We saw that scrape on the docks… nice work! I’m not afraid to admit I nearly sh!t myself when I saw that weird thing flap-flying around. Whatdidyasayyurnamewas? That there is Anselm and I’m Breck.” He offers his hand. Anselm guffaws, ”Nearly he says? There was nothin’ nearly about it. I was downwind from you and it smelt like a crapper exploded!” Breck retorts, ”Bah! You were just smellin’ your mum on me, from last night…”
DM Stuff: Roll omitted
Yash and Jagdaz…
Orcy stuff… Jagdaz takes Yash’s platter of food as it arrives and moves to small table away from the game. He sits down to have a more private conversation with the tall half-orc. ” Zbyt dużo gadania podczas gry przeszkadza niektórym z naszych przyjaciół...…wszyscy zjednoczeni, by obalić i zabić naszych Mistrzów.” Ork: ”Too much talking at a game bugs some of our friends.” He continues, ”Work is good since living can be costly here. Unless you want to work in a shop like a merchant,” his tone is dismissive, “you will need to speak with a couple people. Uller Nine-Toes always has small jobs or knows people who do. Some of his jobs are dirty, but they pay. McGuffin may have work for you as well but I think that will be only after you have proven yourself.”
Jagdaz changes subjects, addressing Yash’s other question. ”As this world is called Golarion, mine is called Miir. In my world, our tribes are mostly united and we have a homeland now. Races still fight and countries compete but borders are respected. This balance is ensured by the Council in service to the Empty Throne. Before that was the great war. All the enslaved peoples – Orcs, Halfling, Gnomes, Goblins, Giants, Dwarves, Grannekk, Ogres, so many other races, and both branches of Humans – all united to overthrow and slay our Masters.”
Orcy subjects… Jagdaz gives Yash a long look before speaking quietly and earnestly, ” Moje plemię nazywa się „Płonąca Włócznia”. Nie wiesz o tym, ponieważ twoje plemiona nie są moimi plemionami, tak jak twój świat nie jest moim światem. W obu światach nasi ludzie walczyli. Ale w moim świecie toczyliśmy zupełnie inną wojnę i wielu naszych sojuszników to ludzie, których orkowie nazywają wrogami.” ” Do pracy… zwykle pilnujemy lokalnych karawan lub robimy trochę zwiadu. W międzyczasie podejmujemy prace dorywcze. Potrzebujesz pracy?” Ork (Yash Only): ”My tribe is called ‘Burning Spear’. You don’t know it because your tribes are not my tribes, as your world isn’t my world. In both worlds, our people have struggled. But, in my world, we’ve fought a very different war and many of our allies are people that orcs here call enemies.”
”For work… we usually guard the local caravans or do a bit of scouting. In between we take odd jobs. Do you need a job?”
"I suppose I could send him a letter? If you would like to write a letter explaining what your proposing, I can send it. I'm sure I couldn't do your idea justice if I tried." "That would be grand. I'll get you a draft tomorrow... so what are your plans for the rest of the evening?"
"My father is in shipping you see, and I don't understand how he could possibly not know about Threshold after all his years in the business. A place like this practically on Oparra's doorstep? Almost inconceivable it's praises aren't sung in both Oparra and Cassomir! Wouldn't you agree?" Ambrose looks to Bosky for confirmation before whispering conspiratorially to Sabelina, "Honestly? We're glad it isn't well known. Think of the opportunity! We can corner the market here. With your family's ships... well, that would speed up shipping and increase the amount of goods we could transport. We could all work together and everyone involved gets rich off this!" The men are practically giddy at the idea of it.
The orcs nod politely before offering their names in return and widen their circle to make room for Yash to join. For Yash, some of their accents sound a bit strange, like variants of Orkish he’s never heard. It’s another first in a day of firsts. One of the orcs (Jagdaz) not actively involved in the betting, dicing, or periodic punching speaks with Yash. He is a head shorter than Yash but broader through the chest. He bears a number of unusual scars, odd tattoos, and unrecognized clan paint patterns. Jagdaz grunts politely at Yash’s questions… "Pozdrowienia! Jedzenie tutaj jest dobre, ale jedzenie w Rustic jest lepsze – bardziej stare i śmierdzące, jak w domu." Ork:
”Greetings! The food here is good but the food at Rustic is better – more aged and smelly, like home.” He gestures expansively, indicating the tavern or something greater. "Ta tawerna czy to miasto? Kilkoro z nas było tu od… Sześciu obrotów księżyca. Większość z nich była tu mniej niż dwa zakręty." Ork: ”This tavern or this town? A few of us have been here for…” He seems to struggle with an answer, ”Six turnings of the moon. Most have been here less than two turnings.“
The merchants have no qualms about discussing their business, a subject they find endlessly exciting. ”We deal in dry goods, bulk dry goods – spices, flour, salt, sugar, and the like. It’s a very lucrative market. As for this town, we stumbled on it while scouting for new villages that could use our services. What a find! We sold all our goods in two days! We’ve already sent word to Cassomir and two more wagons should be on the way. And we expect to sell those out and buy a lot of merchandise here. They have… it’s just unbelievable. Have you been to the Bazaar? You should go. We could take you tomorrow. It has goods from everywhere. I don’t know how they do it.”
The slightly drunk merchants stumble to stand quickly, surprised by the seeming turn in their fortunes. "Please! Please sit, Miss Sab'lina." They sit after she does. "Always happy to see another Taldane, yes! And a lovely one at that. Err... this is Bosky and I'm Ambrose. We do business in Oppara from time to time but we're from Cassomir. So, forgive us for not immediately recognizing your family name."
The scowling barman scoops up the coin, "It'll be a minute. She'll bring ya lunch where'ver yer at." With that, he moves off to refill another customer's drink. Yash sees half of one trestle table is occupied by a small pack of orcs with one or two half-bloods in the mix, enjoying a robust game of dice and bloody fists. Judging by their scars, tattoos, and paint, they represent a variety of clans. In such a gathering, usually, fists would be the least bloody thing happening.
With the initial shock over, Xing’s innocent question opens up the floodgates as the wagoners, the boatsmen, the merchants, and even a couple of the kids who defied Mama Cookie and tagged along, fire off their questions in rapid fire succession… ”Where can we buy supplies for our caravan?” ”What is this place?” ”We need to fix our boat. Who do I see about that?” ”Is there someplace to eat?” ”Is there someplace I won’t be eaten?” ”I have goods to sell. Where should I go?” ”Is it safe to walk around?” ”Who should I see about…?” ”My bride and I just fought off a sea-serpent! I’m a hero. Where can we get a room with a romantic view?” ”Where can we water and grain or horses?” ”Where’s a cheap Inn?” ”Ya got some Crabmen lurking just beyond the point with a ballista. Ya know about that?” ”Where’s the ?”
On the Water
Joas rubs his chin and watches the roiling water, then shoots a glance at Xing to see what she makes of all this before returning his attention to Sabelina. With a hint of humor, he replies. ”Well, Miss, seems as if you’ve got us trapped between a sea-serpent and a village that is filled with either magical fey folks OR bloodthirsty smugglers in need of an ass-whupping. And my ass-whupping resources are me (long past my ass-whupping days), my first mate, and this gal right here… who ain’t even my crew proper and gots no reason to follow me into a corn maze let alone a town full of smugglers. Sounds to me like you are making an argument for what I already got planned… which is to throw as many yards of sail up as I can and fly right past this whole sitch'e'ashun.” He raises his voice loud enough to carry to his first mate and Xing. ”Let’s get some more sail. If these folks wanna be left alone, I say we let them.”
On the Trail... Not a bad idea, really. But those folks may be jumpy about a half-orc snooping on them. Ella scratches her head, trying to figure out how to split the difference... She yells to one of her drivers in Varisian. In short order, he's spoken to one of the travelers who seems to agree. The traveler, a spare looking man, heads past Ella and Yash towards the hills. She explains, pointing at the man, then to Yash, then to herself. "He scouts. You, Yash, you come with me. You guard us. We tell village Yash no fight. Safer, yes? Come please." Ella tries to coax the large half-orc back to the wagons which are already starting to form up and head down to the strand. |