"Any large, recently-inked maps of the Surface of Taksi and the surrounding countryside? Our navigation is like a drunk cow in a rainstorm. And what's our cover this time for the Misfits of Psionics?" Connor asked Alsatia.
To Roderick, Connor said "Our previous Surface mission went fine, as long as you count employment by a suspicious bat-winged muscular hyena-man, watching tiger-men at a monastery, losing Flick at an outpost, finding out that dark Elves from the North have mixed psionics with magic but have no psi-crafters and desperately want them, and there's a lizard-man bandit with a soulgem inside him looking for his own skyship to broaden his raiding parties' exploits. And I've been asked by a certain...someone to build some halfling temples on Atalantius." Connor looked at the others. "So we are not exactly going on a pleasure cruise here." He shrugged. "But this mission is for Flick, to pay back what was done to him. Let's go teach those Surface Wingless a lesson."
Elrohir turns to Connor "Flick is dead, call me Sting now."
As he puts on the wings he gives them several experimental flaps, and nods grimly "Revenge awaits."
"A big wannabe dragon man? Sounds familiar..." Alys comments absent-mindedly as she keeps watching Flick- Sting - worry written all over her face.
The ship is soon outfitted with a dozen crew members, about half of which are riflemen. The ship is also fitted out with a nice mix of cargo, some fruits and vegetables with an ice elemental keeping them cold to keep them fresh, some ornate metal furniture, several thousand pounds of raw iron in ingots, and small selection of jewelry.
The group is given the job of being a cargo ship, with this initial cargo, and to run down any rumors of other flying ships or lizards with wings. Also large lizards of the type on the island if possible.
Following the charts, the ship finds the northern continent again rather easily. Rather than encroach on the dragon territories, this time it skirts along the southern shoreline until it comes to a swampy outcropping. A massive swamp with some form of wall to the north, separating it from the rest of the continent.
Putting down in the harbor, the ship skips over the ocean waves a few times before settling with a groan and a boom on the calm harbor waters.
As they put in to an empty slip, they notice many many catfolk and lizardfolk watching, especially children, which seem to have lined the warehouse roofs all around to get a look at the flying ship.
A burly looking catfolk with orange and white fur with dark spots steps up to the ship as the gang-plank lands with a thud, and calls out in accented but passable Atalantian. "Ahoy the ship. Are ye new to the port? I've not sseen your markingss before."
Alys stays back to leave the talking to Connor and Roderick.
Adran stays in the crows nest keeping an eye on things until he gets the signal they are moving out.
Connor said goodbye to Alsatia. "No communication crystals, I take it. Well, maybe by the time we return from the Surface, we'll be able to contact you with correspond."
---------------------
Connor tried making sense of the given maps on the way down to the Surface. They would be back in the swamps, even this far north of their previous Surface location. Connor didn't cherish going any closer to where black-skinned Wingless elves would feel comfortable in.
The majority of the voyage Connor spent getting to know the assigned personnel. The riflemen had few expectations for the cargo trip. They were told to go down to the Surface and return. Without Rory's expertise, Connor realized he couldn't hide being a leader again. So he tried getting into a leadership position. Acting like a Captain. Or at least someone giving orders when the feathers hit the fan. This mostly involved him making astral constructs and doing drills around the others' daily tasks on the decking. Then Connor involved the ordinary crewmen in those drills. Now Connor missed Selvan and his Tactican's Net. He yelled himself hoarse a few afternoons, learning the right commands that people could understand. A few drills was how to keep their rifles on them when the ship was pitching or loose items were flying around.
Gathering the adventurer types in the galley one night, he outlined his plan. "No more Rory as the Captain, but we can still use our minds instead of being just a fat cargo ship. The riflemen won't leave the ship, unless we get into another civil war. So here's how we'll play it out. Roderick," he said, "you're a rich Duke's son financing us on this crazy cargo mission. You're trying to prove to your father you can do this so he'll leave you alone. Hence going where nobody from Atalantia has ever been before. I'm the Captain, but not a military one, just the cheapest you could afford. Alys, you're Rodericks' personal bodyguard, but the riflemen were hired to protect the ship, which is owned by Rodericks' family, not us. Adran, you needed to leave town in a hurry, and found us. You owe a lot of money to a certain lizardman gang. You want to find the lizardmen here before they find us. Sting, you're our native guide to the Surface. You have 'native experience', and are here to tell us if the natives are friendly or unfriendly. But," Connor told Elohir, "get a half-mask. Something that fits your wings. Just so any lizardman doesn't immediately recognize you. Alys and I will play up our previous Surface city experience, use our Gashan chits if we need to. Everyone tells the truth, after a fashion. The natives will be checking up on us, probably with magic."
------------------
On the approach to the city, Connor kept rehearsing the cover story in his head. Cargo ship. Rich merchant's son. Hired hands. Fortunately the Elephant didn't make any groaning or cracking sounds when it hit the water near the port.
Seeing the audience arrive as the crewmembers wrapped up the sails, threw mooring lines, and tied down loose items, Connor realized it was another feline city. He saw Adran in the crow's nest, and counted on him to watch the crowds, especially the lizardmen. As the port inspector called out, Connor went to the railing. He looked down, and put his best smile on his face. "Ahoy the city!" he shouted, loud enough to carry to the children on the rooftops, "The Wandering Elephant has arrived from the floating islands with a cargo hull full of exotic dishes, tables and chairs fit for a king, and raw materials for your craftsmen to shape into adornments beautiful to behold! This is our first landing to your fair city, in the hope of coming to several mutually beneficial exchanges, including future trades!"
Calling back over his shoulder, Connor shouted "Master MacDuncan!", letting Roderick come and put his two cents' worth in.
Sting alights on a cross beam, shrouded in shadows and watches, listening and surveying the landscape. He has nothing to add here, but perhaps he could learn a thing or two as an observer.
Nothing unusual, other than the fact the crowd, especially the kids, while excited to see a flying ship, don't seem shocked, more like it's a known but still rare event.
The catfolk doesn't seem to be hiding anything unusual.
It appears Roderick was not properly in the frame of mind to talk, so he stays below decks.
The catfolk nods at Connor's comments, and pulls out a scroll from his pocket, unrolling it on a tilted flat pedestal next to the end of the dock that appears to have been put in as a writing surface.
"Wandering Elephant, Atalantia registry, Captain Magg.. Captain Macad... Captain what you said..." He seems to have trouble with the name of the captain, given it's a foreign name.
He looks up. "City get's 1 in a 100 of each coin you make selling cargo, as well as 1 in a 100 of each coin you pay buying cargo. If you neither buy nor sell in one week, you must leave port and pay 100 local gold coins."
"A hundredth of every transaction!" Connor sputters at the railing, looking outraged at such taxation. This was not a free port. He remembered Gashon's daughter, but she was too tough for this. Maybe the way some of the merchants in Atalantia's major marketplaces acted... Connor kept playing to the audience on the deck and the walls. "I had no idea your fair city made its' fortune off of the goods of honest merchants from far-away lands! Your craftsmen can draw out negotiations for days, knowing we must deal from duress or settle for less! My ice will not keep much longer, you realize, and we do not use magic to keep the food fresh! I must unload today, tomorrow at the latest, or my succulent fruits and vegetables will be as soggy as dishrags!" he loudly complained.
Connor paused, drawing in another breath. "Well, at least you don't charge us for all the cargo at once. And we have only cargo, not passengers." the young winged man stated. "Do we need a chit of passage to your streets? To let your merchants and noblemen know we are legitimate?" he asked, loudly. "And with the clock ticking." The last was added grumpily.
Alys sits on the railing at the far side of the ship, wondering quietly wether one percent is really such a big deal.
The catfolk draws himself up. "If you do not like the cost, you may take your fine flying ship and leave. The fees are what they are, what they have been for 10 generations, and what they will be for 10 generations." He says something in a hissing spitting language and turns about and stalks off, his tail held stiffly out.
A small gaggle of onlookers, foreigners by the looks of them, since there are two humans, an elf, a dwarf, and a halfling, all begin laughing and exchanging money. Some look chagrined, others happy. The happy ones seem to be receiving money from the ones who are chagrined.
Connor watched the dockmaster or worker stalk away. "Good to know there is neither inflation nor deflation. That means no war, pestilence, or famine." He said out loud. Over his shoulder Connor shouted "Bring out the perishables first! And keep the ice on top!"
Connor saw the foreigners on the docks. Taking Hero off his necklace, he placed the psicrystal on the railing. The crystal grew legs and stuck fast to the wood. "Just in case, Hero, let's find out who the non-furries are." Connor murmured. He crouched, drawing himself up, then launched his body off of the deck, going into an easy glide to the group of humans, elf, and shorter humanoids. Connor landed with his wings outstretched, aiming for display as much as a soft touch.
Folding his wings and bowing, Connor put on his best trader's smile, exclaiming "We're not here an hour and someone is already making coin on us! Connor McIntyre, Captain of the Wandering Elephant, conveyor of foodstuffs and furniture from exotic places. So tell me, what other mistakes can I avoid in Kichtcilta? The expensive ones first, please."
The elf in the group translates Connor's words to the group, which causes another round of laughs. One of the humans, a tall man with a tricorner hat and a fine rich blue/purple coat takes his hat off, and bows elaborately. He speaks in a fluid language before tossing the hat into the air, and expertly making sure his head is under it when it lands.
The elf turns. "Captain Migra Fordell Rashath, also known as Captain Dandy, of the Purple Whore is pleased to introduce himself." He translates.
A red-headed woman tips her head, and speaks in a similar, but less fluid language as the first man. When she moves, Connor notices that she has an old, but lethal looking, firearm tucked into her belt. It looks like a muzzle loader.
The elf turns again, and then nods. "Captain Her Worship Mildara, also known as Queen Blood, of the Razor Talon, acknowledges your introduction, but without all the 'stupid damn flowery words' as 'that idiot Dandy'."
The dwarf, a thick looking individual with expensive silk over armor grunts, and says a few words in a gutteral language.
The elf again nods. "Captain Gold Beard, of the Death Ascendant says you have a nice ship." The elf shrugs, almost apologetically, over the short sentence.
The halfling, a woman in full plate with a large crystal sword on her back that's nearly as tall as she is chirps up in a chipper voice.
She says she's Captain Cortlaina Tumblethorn, of the Corsair Bloodtear, and she thanks you for pissing off the Cat, as she made a good 10 gold off it.
The elf turns. "Lady Captain Cortlaina Tumblethorn, of the Bloodtear, is pleased to meat you, and feels that she has increased her fortunes by your mere presence."
"Well met, to all of you." Connor replies pleasantly, slightly bowing. He switched from Common to Elven, since the party seemed to understand it better. "Ez az én mester remélem, hogy új piacokat nyit itt, eddig a mi otthon, és én megnyugodva, hogy nem én vagyok az első nélkül szőr ezeken a vizeken."
"It is my master's hope to open new markets here, so far from our home, and I am reassured to see I am not the first without fur in these waters."
Non-plussed by the switch to Elven, the elf translates the statement to the other captains. There's some general amusement, and then the elf turns back to Connor and translates.
"Captain Gold Beard says you're not in these waters, your in these clouds. He added a uhm... He instructed me to say you're a damn fool if you don't know the difference." The elf looks pained to insult someone he's translating to. "Captain Midara says you are welcome to sail the waters as well as the sky, it would make things more sporting for her."
And he didn't translate Tumblethorn's comment about looting the hell out of your ship if you were stupid enough to sail in actual water.
Connor caught the dwarf's boast about capturing his ship but tried to keep it from his face and eyes. He laughed easily at the replies. "So we have a Captain's Table, if you will but name the tavern and the time." Connor said, in Elven. "And I will keep to my element, given my youth. But you have yet to introduce yourself, speaker. I would not overlook the bridge-maker." Connor wanted to make sure he had as much information as possible from the people on the dock. But he wondered how the cat-people saw the Wingless elf, on this continent.
The elf bows. "I am Lorvan Wordsmith, a humble translator for hire. If you need my services."
He translates the offer of ale and food, and the four captains talk a bit, before the elf responds. "Unfortunately, only Captain's Mildara and Captain Gold Beard could attend. Captain Dandy and Captain Tumblethorn are sailing with the tide tonight."
Adran continues to watch the boss making sure these folks don't jump him.
"I wish good sailing, to the both of them." Connor stated, smiling. Looking at Lorvan cannily, one hand up to his chin, he asked, "If you are not of their crew, Master Wordsmith, then there must be a-" he almost said Wingless, but switched, "non-cat-people enclave in the city. With those willing to lead newcomers to less hostile buyers and sellers? As well as an inn?"
The elf tilts his head, and wiggles his jaw oddly. "Well, I wouldn't call it an 'enclave' exactly. The southeastern octant has a lot of inns that cater to foreigners, food, entertainment, equipment, and so forth. The northeastern octant has a small section that has become common for expatriates to live in if they're here for a longer stay." He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Not a lot of hostile buyers and sellers in the city, that's sort of the point of the city, to buy and sell from foreigners. Up at the capital, or closer to the Wall, you have some hostility to outsiders... although that's mostly distrust, not outright hatred."
Adran isn't worried about what is being said. Just surveying the lay of the land and making sure there are no surprises.
"Valuable information, indeed." Connor complimented. "And here is some in kind: if you find yourself in the region of Nierva, the dragons appear to be coming south. Again."
Looking back at the ship, the young Humavian said "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure some of my vegetables survive the crew manhandling them from the hold to the decking!" He bowed again to the group.
Turning and showing off his white wings, Connor called up to the vessel "Oi! I saw that! Put another person on that rope! You're supposed to lift with the tackle, not swing it! Don't spill the cargo!" He walked from the pier to beside the Elephant, then leaped back onboard, using his wings.
As the ship begins readying to get the cargo off-loaded, a dusky olive drab lizardfolk wearing an eye-patch comes sauntering up. Like most of the visible lizardfolk, he wears only a loincloth, and unlike most, an eyepatch. Bright green eyes dart from motion to motion as he steps up, before he leans on the walking stick he's carrying.
"Greetingzz. I am Ssirsssssoll. I am sspeaking your language, yesss? I sssee you have itemsss to unload? You will need a warehoussse to ssstore them, yesss? I work for thossse who have ssuch thingsss, I can sshow you a warehousssse to hold your goodsss. The prissse isss 100 gold coinsss per week. Thisss includesss sssecurity, and a guarantee of sssafety of your goodsss. Would you like to sssee the warehousse?"
Adran comes down from the crows nest as the one eyed lizard approaches.
"So everyone here trying to make money off us already. Why would we want to use your warehouse? We don't need to unload till we have a buyer."
The lizard hisses in amusement. "Ssso you only have hold with few thingsss in it? Thossse that come to buy can walk hold, look at waresss? You wing folk have ssstrange way of doing trade. All the sship captainsss I do work with have sship packed to raftersss, sssometimesss sssink caussse too heavy with cargo. I not realize you not have hold pack full to roof with cargo. I go find someone with hold full of cargo, need room to ssspread it out, sshow buyersss, find that one rug or mug that buyer want in box buried at bottom."
The lizard begins to amble away with a slightly rolled gait.
The lizard is moving slower than he needs to, he's just baiting you all, he believes you'll need a warehouse to unpack your hold so you can sell what you have to people that want it.
"Thanks for the save." Connor told Adran. "I've had my mind on unloading cargo all day, so I wasn't expecting any more hawkers until the evening."
Connor watched the lizardman walking back to the dock buildings. "Our visitor wants us to use his warehouse; he's baiting us. I think we need to go into town. Find the Wordsmith again. Pay our taxes for the first unloading. And find buyers. Without warehouse fees." Connor turned to the ship, still swarming with crew taking cargo out and placing it on the deck. "Let's get a group together."
"Sure, lets go into town."
From his perch, Sting is able to overhear a good portion of the conversation between Connor and the small group that met them. The elven captain was intriguing, perhaps a potential ally there.
The city is an odd mix. Many of the buildings are built on stilts, although those stilts are foot thick tree trunks pounded into the mud of the swamp. There are bits of solid ground scattered around, most having buildings on them, although a few have small gardens or parks in them instead.
None of the buildings are tall, they are squat and spread out. The harbor appears to be a natural formation caused by the main river outlet's considerable water output keeping it dredged. It also floats, rising and lowering with the tide. To the Atalantian's the whole city seems a bit flimsy, but somehow it's survived storms, so the locals must know what they are doing.
"So whats the plan? I aint so good at talking to people and fishing up information.
"Master Wordsmith said the southeastern octant is the place for us to go to." Connor replied. He looked up at the sun. "No one is going to fault us for looking for a tavern at this time of day. I'd like to take all of us, including Sting, to the city. Specifically to sell our exotic vegetables to a single buyer. Only half, in case we get a better offer the next day. We can also see what else is wanted here, other than warehouse fees." he stated.
"Can you be ready in an hour?" Connor asked. "Weapons light, just in case they have strange rules here. That why I want Alys with us. We're merchants, not mercenaries."
The Octant that the group enters is obviously a lively place. Warehouses dot the area, as do larger 'complex houses' that serve as inns. Where on solid land the houses would be large with multiple rooms, here, they are multiple buildings scattered over an area, with roofed over floating walkways between buildings. The larger will be a main building, while the smaller ones are 2 to 6 room 'guest' buildings.
There are advantages, as the hotel can expand easily, assuming there's space. Given the swamp spreads out in what seems a forever expanding morass of mud and water and cypress trees, that only is a problem in overbuilt areas.
Most inns have a bar/restaurant in the main building.
Picking one at random, those who enter town enter a two story wooden house on 10 foot tall stilts, walking up a set of sturdy stairs to the inn proper.
Inside is a rather spacious restaurant/bar that has nice tables scattered around, extra heavy duty chairs with odd backs that allow those with tails to sit comfortably, and a bar with a dozen barrels with taps behind it.
In the bar currently are a mixture of catfolk (mostly Bobcat/Panther/Junglecat types) and lizardfolk (green and yellow, black, and blue scaled). There are two enormous tables, each 4 feet high with chairs three sizes larger than the standard chairs. At one of them sits 3 enormous finned black scaled lizardfolk eating on what looks like a whole swordfish that's been grilled, along with a couple of bowls of vegetables. They are animatedly talking in Draconic as they eat and hissing in laughter.
My, those are some big boys, or girls, or both... I never could tell the difference with lizardfolk. I assume they can, or there wouldn't be any...
Adran smiles as he approaches the large table with the giant lizards. He hops up on a chair and looks and pokes at the swordfish before looking at the three.
He plops down in the chair and calls the barmaid asking for a round of drinks for his new friends.
Lizardfolk A : "What is it?"
Lizardfolk B : "Think it's a hatchling."
Lizardfolk C : "Ewww, they have ugly hatchlings..."
Lizardfolk A : "Hah! You one to talk, seen how ugly that patch-scale hatchling of yours is Glerta!"
Lizardfolk B : "Hah! Yeah, scare Harpies!"
Glerta (C) : "At least Skremnal prettier than that shed-scale skank you shagging, Trescka."
Lizardfolk B : "Don't call his sister a skank!"
Glerta (C) : Laughs in a hissing sound like a steam engine.
Trescka (A) : "Lethia is gorgeous! And she not my sister, you idiot. Parents took her in after parents die in storm, morons..."
The lizards aren't being unfriendly by ignoring Adran, they just seem to be of the opinion he's a kid, and they aren't apparently sure how to treat a foreign kid with wings.
Adran watches and listens.
Connor manifested natural linguist as soon as he saw and heard the lizardmen speaking in an unfamiliar language.
As Adran spoke with the larger lizardmen, Connor grabbed a nearby empty table with the others. He looked for what passed for a serving person here. Connor was content to let Adran get the first introductions. He would size up the crowd himself, and after his meal ask the serving person as well as the barkeep for information about the trade market.
Just in case, Connor kept his ears open and one eye on Adran's table, in case he needed to duck.