Shadowborn's page

"Baal? Ah, we call him Baalok here. He is well known. The Crafters Guild in particular are fond of him. We are a city of many peoples, hence many gods are represented on the Street of Gods. Temples and shrines exist in abundance. If you have spiritual needs to attend, you will have no problem doing so."

Your progress seems to be all downhill. Eventually, the ride levels out and the mixture of smells in the air is dominated by fish. Merchants sell it; fresh, smoked, pickled, kippered, they yell to be heard over the clamor of the others as well as the general noise of the docks.

Ham pulls the cart to a stop near the doors of a large, long building.

"Here's my stop, ma'am. The Six is just down this road on the left. Big stone and timber building. Sign is wood with the six wit' eight tails burned into it. I wouldn't mind wetting my whistle, so you can either wait while I do my business here and I kin' take you over so's I can have a pint before heading back, or you can head there now. I don't mind either way."

Not much later, a large, beefy fellow with a bald head and crooked nose comes up and introduces himself as Ham. He leads you out to the side of the building where a handcart awaits and offers for you to sit in it while he hauls it down to the docks.

"South of here, the Tindal empties into the ocean. West of that point are what some call the Jewel Cities." He snorts. Bit of wishful thinking if you ask me. They cling to the coastline of a stinking morass of a swamp, surviving mostly through trade with us and other more fortunate places. Why the folk there never moved to more hospitable climes is beyond me."[/b]

"I hear they serve good tea, if yer one what can afford it." There's a long pause, as she seems occupied with a stone she's nudging with the toe of her shoe. "If ye wanted to wait fer yer friend there, I kin run that letter back to the Six, get him here an' be sure you know when he shows."

"Var-- rather, the aforementioned personage can be summed up by this particular story. As one of the most powerful wizards in Fardusk, perhaps the most powerful, depending on who is ranking them, he is quite used to doing what he likes, when he likes, without care to whom he causes displeasure. It is said that a few years ago he violated a certain monastery, devoted to the Queen of Air and Darkness. As a goddess of vengeance, it is not surprising that retribution was swift and harsh. It is said that he was cursed with a terrible wasting disease. No healer could halt its progress, and no cleric could counter the magic, save the followers of the goddess herself. No cleric of Hers would do so until Var--he atoned for his crime. It is said he left the city and was gone for months, searching for a way to lift the curse without bowing to the will of Mitras. Now it's said he's returned and the curse no longer has power over him. I don't know if that's true, but strange lights and sounds have been seen from the windows of his tower on the heights, which have been dark since he left, so he certainly has returned."

"Oh, no. Mancino will not make a fool of me. His offer is as unappealing as that great, crumbling ruin of an inn he owns. Take it back to him and tell him he'll need to be a great deal more clever to pull one over on Ceryl. Now unless you intend to buy something, I suggest you leave." The smile returns to his face, gold tooth flashing.

"I see. I thank you, sir, for this timely delivery." He fishes around in the pouch at his belt and hands you a silver coin. "For your troubles. There will be another for you if you will abide while I write a note in return and deliver it back to your mistress."

Later, Hansi comes over to your table. "I conferred with my doorman again, and I'm afraid Reef noted no one resembling your friends other than Auric. He has standing orders to notify me when he does."

As you reach the Wharf Market, you find the space is crammed full of merchant stalls, each clamoring and calling to potential customers. You find the din incredible, as if every person in your village had gathered together and started yammering away. Pliska leads you through the shoppers to a large, blue tent with all manner of rugs and carpets draped over frames, rolled and sitting in piles before the entrance. A bored looking fellow in a chain shirt holding a staff stands guard at the entrance, watching over the wares. Pliska brushes past him into the tent with you in tow. Inside a man with an olive complexion whose black hair and beard glisten in the lamplight looks up at your approach. He gives a quick glance to Pliska and seems to dismiss her presence, focusing instead on you as he beams a large smile, exposing an expanse of white teeth save for one that appears to be made of gold.

"Ah, welcome, my friend! What can I offer you this fine day?"

Pliska gives a nod in his direction. "He's the one yer lookin' for."

Footsteps on the stairs draw her attention. She sees one of the sisters descending. After seeing the withered arm, she realizes it is Marza. She notes your attention and gives you a nod before moving to the bar.

At the mention of temples, she frowns. "Aye, you go uptown to the Street of the Gods, an' you can't throw a stone without hitting an idol. A lot of 'em don't like...my kind of people. There's likely some what would put up with me bein' around, but I don't know who they'd be. Know of a couple of folk who are versed in the arts that aren't complete a+#*~&$#s. They might be able to help you for a bit o' clink, or at least tell you how you might rid yerself of it. I know the easiest way is to give it away to someone who takes it of their own free will. Then the curse passes with it."

You see no sign of Kess or Marza, but the staff tells you they should be awake in a couple of hours. In the meantime, there is warm bread from a bakery down the street, as well as cheese and fruit ready to be had.

She keeps walking for a time, then slows, looking over her shoulder at you and biting her lip before speaking. You can see she has rather pronounced canines to go with the horns.

This friend o' yers, Jon. What's his game? He's got all kinds of powerful magic, but then hires me like he's just some lost rube, tossing me handfuls o' money like he's got no sense of its worth nor wit to suss it out. Is he playin' me? I feel like I got my head on backwards an' I don't like it."

"Convinced a couple of merchants to share a bed. Here's the key to your room. Top of the stairs, last door on the right at the end of the hall." She hands you the key, eyeing your owl. "Make sure you clean up after the bird, or I'll charge you extra," she says, giving a smile that ends up somewhat crooked thanks to the scar tissue on her face. "If you need anything else, just ask me or my sister, or one of the help. I'm Kess. My sister is Marza." She looks at Kalaya a bit more and the smile vanishes. [b]"Are you all right? You seem a bit more than just tired."

A hatchet-faced man, thin but sporting a belly, is speaking with a couple of workers at the bar. He spots your entrance and raises his eyebrows. A broad smile comes across his face and he gives you a welcoming wave.

"Ye keep lookin' around with what we call the 'yokel stare.' It invites grifters, pickpockets, an' also gets more bugs in yer open maw than most folk like."

She eyes the offered pies a moment, then snatches one up and takes a bite. She chews thoughtfully a moment, then swallows the morsel and answers you.

"This pie plus a pair o' shields. I'll get you there by the quickest route."

"Most appreciated, m'lord! I'll be happy to extend my service to ya, if'n needs be, should you wish to go anywhere else. Know the city like the back of me hand. Get ye where ye want to go faster 'n a greased quickling."

At your request, he sends one of the serving girls to the kitchen, who eturns with a cloth wrapped around a pile of grist, cast off from hand-milling some grain or another. "Will this do?"

As Auric gathers his things, the same serving girl holds out a basket to him before he exits. It smells of baked goods. "Master Mancino said to give you these. On the house." Inside are three freshly baked meat pies.

Exiting the Six with Eight Tails, a voice pipes up to Auric's left.

"New to the city, mister? Need a guide? This tout will getchu where you need to go."

Leaning against the wall of the inn is a short, lean woman with short, dark hair. Her brow is crowned by a pair of small horns. Cradled in one arm is a short staff with a light green scrap of cloth tied to its tip.

Weasel Dodd is a verbose man. On your trip you think he might have spoken more words to you than your lost companions did the entire trip across the Marches and the Tindal Sea. He chatters non-stop about whatever crosses his mind, which appears to be whatever is in front of his face at that moment. You get a jumbled picture of the city of Fardusk on your tour, some pieces of which might come in handy later. (Details of the useful info you receive to follow.) Other than having your ears talked off, nothing disturbs you on your walk. Eventually, Weasel brings you to a large two-story building on the edge of the harbor. If this is truly an inn, it's the biggest you've ever seen. The entirety of the Huntsman's Rest, including the yard, could fit in this building. Hanging over the double doors is a large, wooden plaque, with an unusual symbol burned into the wood. Sign of the Six with Eight Tails

"Here we are! That'll be four Shields for my time, if ye please," says Weasel with another gap-toothed grin.

"Shield, for the coat of arms on one side. Tower, likewise for the image on it. Drake. My sister says its more of a wyvern, but everyone calls 'em drakes. These are used like money. The markings show you what value of coin, and how many the marker can call in. Just about any merchant will take them. Only types I know that don't are low-life crooks who won't risk cashing them, and old stuck-in-the-muds that insist on trading in coin. This one's worth...well.

She quickly picks it up again and returns it to your hand. [b]"Don't be flashing that one around. You could buy yourself a carriage with that, plus the team to pull it around town. Since it's too late to get you a room, you want to rent a box to lock up your things? Probably safer that way." The chit's worth 250 gp. I'll give you a total value for the wealth you're carrying later.

She reaches into her bodice and produces a folded piece of heavy paper, wrapped in a thin, red ribbon.

"My husband, bothersome little imp that he is, is planning on using your friend Auric to make some mischief. Poor lad doesn't realize it. Hansi is sneaky that way. What I need you to do is go to the Wharf Market to a friend of mine and deliver this letter. I'm afraid you won't get much sleep, as I need it to arrive before Hansi sends your friend out on his delivery. When you're done, you can either wait around and meet Auric when he arrives, or return here and rest. If you do this for me, I'll get you a good room and your first day's stay and meals will be on the house. Do we have an accord?"

"He's a rug merchant by the name of Ceryl. Just tell him Hansi Mancino wishes to pay him what he's owed. No worries about the delivery," he says, going behind the counter and retrieving an item, which he brings over and presents to you. It is a wooden box, about five inches long, three wide, and three deep. The box has seen better days, as much of its veneer has worn away. However, set into the box's lid is a blue-green gem of considerable size and the box hsi held shut with silver wire. "Simply ensure the box remains unopened. Part of its value is that it remains intact. I doubt anyone will accost a an of your size and bearing in broad daylight, so aside from keeping it out of the hands of pickpockets, it's a simple enough task."

"Reef, you must be tired. You have my permission to retire for the morning. I'll make accommodations for our guest."

The huge man's bristling eyebrows meet as his brow furrows.

"But the Master said to--"

"I'm well aware of what the Master said, Reef. Am I not Mistress of this house?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Then do as I say. I'll tell Hansi you were most helpful. Now go on. Off with you."

"Yes, Mistress," replies Reef, hunching his expansive shoulders in what might be a bow, then turning and striding off. The woman gives an exasperated sigh and the smile returns as she regards you.

"Well, hello there. I'm Vitkoria Mancino. My husband, Hansi, and I run this establishment. You must be one of the companions of that strapping young fellow Hansi found wandering around downstairs."

At this point, Jon can't decide whether he's more tired or hungry. However, as he makes his way in following the serving woman, a large, heavy hand falls on his shoulder. Turning, he looks up into the square-jawed face of an enormous man. Lank, black hair frames a dark-eyed face with an unpleasant jaundiced color. The hand not resting on Jon's shoulder carries a large billet of wood with three long nails driven through it.

"You. Master sent me to find you. Come. Now." says the great brute.

"If you decide to head to the Wharf Market, there is a small service you could do for me. I would happily forgo payment for last night's meal and room in exchange. I have agreed to deliver an item of importance to a merchant in the Wharf Market. However, I'm short on help--some sort of nasty ague going around and some people are too sick to work--and I cannot leave myself, too much to do. Perhaps you can deliver this thing for me?"

"Out late. Not the best neighborhood to be walking in the dark. What do you need?"

The old man looks up at his name, giving you a gap-toothed grin and waving you over to the table while piling another forkful of cakes into his mouth.

"Good morn, Master Auric. I'm afraid Reef had no luck finding your friends on the premises last night. The Wharf Markets might be the place to look. Lots of people off the ships from the docks, and plenty of new blood in town set up shop to sell wares or services there. Keep a hand on your purse while you're there. Plenty of sticky fingers in the lanes of the Wharf Market."

"C'mon then. Let's get you where yer goin'. Just be ready with those killer plants o' yers. Night's even more dangerous the further East in the city we go."

Despite her warning, you encounter no other trouble in your journey, though you see many a strange sight on the walk. The night streets seem to teem with things that would send the folk of the Marches screaming into the nearest dwarven fastness for protection. Small bands of goblins roam the streets. You see a looming shape easily half again as tall as you lurking in the shadows of an alley over a brazier. Pliska stops a moment to talk to two small, scaly creatures you recognize as kobolds before moving on.

Eventually, as the sky begins to lighten perceptibly, you stop in front of a large building, mostly constructed of stone, weathered and spotted with lichens, sitting at the edge of a large wharf. A large wooden sign hangs above the door, bearing a strange glyph burned into the wood. Sign of the Six with Eight Tails

Pliska raps on the door with her staff repeatedly until a bleary-eyed looking woman answers. Your guide gives her a nod, then turns to you.

"All set and delivered. I'll be on my way."

The serving woman explains that there are no rooms ready, but you can grab a spot to sleep in the common room.

As your lights float further along there's a flurry of motion further back in the shadows, and the sound of stone scraping on stone, followed by a loud thud.

She fumbles a hand into her bag, scrabbling up a handful of coins and ceramic chits, thrusting them at you like they were some sort of warding talisman.

"Here. Take back yer clink. I'll give ye directions to where yer wantin' ta go, but I won't be bound in any deals wit' ye."

"Mitra's t!#s! You didn't say you were a wizard! What's the game then, hiring a tout like me when you could just fly your way wherever yer goin'?"

The room itself is nothing spectacular. The small, narrow window provides a view of the harbor, as well as an avenue for its fishy stink to enter the room. The straw mattress is lumpy and smells a bit moldy. The blankets are rough and scratchy. Once the small lamp on the bedside table is extinguished, the scratch and scrabble of mice on the floor can be heard.

Hansi Mancino returns to the common room after a time, and spends much of his time moving about the place, speaking with this or that person, patting shoulders and shaking hands. He is rarely without a drink in his hand. His wife spends much of her time scowling at him when she isn't chatting up large, strapping male customers. Eventually, as the night wears on, the tables clear. Some leaving in groups, others bedding down for the night in the common room, a few heading upstairs, presumably to private rooms. When the serving girl comes to clear the table, she hands you a key and gives you directions to an upstairs room, mentioning that "Master Mancino wishes you a good night's rest. Says to tell you Reef hasn't found your friends, but the Master will speak with you in the morning, first thing."