Two of the lizardfolk laugh at Adran's question, and the other's tale whips hard enough to make the side of the inn vibrate when it hits the wall. The angry one glares down at Adran. Adran's ears ring from the volume of the bellow delivered close enough for Adran to see that the angry lizard folk has a maw full of inch and a half long dagger like teeth that look extremely sharp.
One of the other two puts a hand on his shoulder. "Stop it, you're scaring the hatcling." The other says, still hissing in laughter. "Lithia caught Nail Blight a few years ago, makes you lose your scales. They grow back. Shed Scale is a... it's like saying Mangy to a Fashtali." The hissing continues softly.
Once it's obvious Adran is not going to be eaten, Connor can ask a few questions of the bar-lizard. There is a central market square, but you have to be a local to sell there, it's not permitted for ships to directly sell their wares in the market. There is, however, a Merchant's Guild in the dockyards that operates as a clearing house for ship owners to buy/sell cargo.
Draconic: "Whoa big fella. I get it your in love. So what kind of trouble is there to get into around here. You three look like your in the know."
The one who's angry sets back, seemingly growling under his breath. The other two hiss. "Ignore him, hatchling. Growl worse than bite." Says one, while the other hisses in amusement. "You want trouble, go try kidnap the son of the Governor."
That causes the angry one to let out a sound like a steam whistle, and he actually seems genuinely amused. "HAH! Yeah, go mess with governor's son! That be big trouble, you be in more trouble than you can fly out of! Be more trouble than tsunami can blow you out of!"
The other two nod. The talkative one continuing. "She be Grayscale, but she be some kind of scary bit... scary thing, like you never seen. Gotta be scary be governor and be Scale and not Fur." The other two nod at that, and hit the floor with their tales and shout "TRUTH" in Draconic loud enough to shake the rafters... several other lizardfolk, smaller near Connor's size do the same thing, but not as forcefully. "Even scare Furs, that be scary!"
"Oh Grayscale whats that, whats scary about her? And what is a Fur?" He looks around and waves his hand.
"Another round of drinks over here for me and my friends."
The talkative lizardfolk looks Adran up and down again. "You playing games, hatchling?" It asks ominously.
The one who had been angry waves with the tip of his tail, then points to his chest. "Blackscale." Then his tail tip whips over Adran's head, mussing his hair, to point at his two friends. "Blackscale, Blackscale." The tip stabs out at the table with two gray scaled lizard folks sitting at it, both are about the same size as Connor. "Grayscale, Grayscale." Then it whips back over Adran's head again, and points at the Fashtali sitting near the door nursing a mug. "Fur."
The formerly talkative one gives Adran another wall eyed look, and then nods. "She used to be a Grimguard. Don't mess with a Grimguard. Never." He makes a symbol with one hand, which several bar patrons mimic.
Once it's obvious Adran is not going to be eaten, Connor can ask a few questions of the bar-lizard. There is a central market square, but you have to be a local to sell there, it's not permitted for ships to directly sell their wares in the market. There is, however, a Merchant's Guild in the dockyards that operates as a clearing house for ship owners to buy/sell cargo.
Connor ordered whatever passed for four-legged meat around here, making sure it didn't come from anything remotely resembling the locals or any avian. While he waited for his meal he made small talk with the bar-lizard . He was startled about the exclamations from the lizardfolk in the tavern, and Connor hoped Adran wasn't about to get in over his head. Again. He figured that this Merchant's Guild was the place to go next.
But Connor was surprised to learn that lizardfolk, not catfolk, ruled the city. He leaned back in his seat.
The city holds about 8,000 beings, about 40% lizardfolk of some variety (Grayscale and Blackscale), about 35% Fashtali (Catfolk), about 10% Harpy, about 10% Strix, and 5% other.
Grimguard is the name of the guard that guards the northern wall. The northern wall is a giant wall that cuts off the swamp from the northern lands. It was raised up by Taksi thousands of years ago in a single night. It was raised to fight off a massive army of Orcs and other races who banded together. The wall stopped them from invading the swamps.
About a thousand years ago, something happened to the city that is the heart of the wall complex. Magical barriers spread along the length of the wall, and the entire city was cut off for a year and a day. After that time, undead began to pour out of the wall, the former inhabitants of the city!
Taksi fought the undead to a standstill, then forced them back into the Necropolis (as it is called now). The Grimguard patrol the souther side of the wall, slaughtering undead when the crawl out of the still ensorcled wall. No living being that has entered the city has ever returned alive. Those who fight the undead have a deserved reputation for being dangerous individuals.
Taksi doesn't do barter, they have a code of honor, a price is supposed to be an honorable offer, and if you don't offer an honorable price, nobody does business with you. This takes new traders by surprise quite often. Trying to barter will result in a merchant not selling you anything, and telling you to get out of their shop (you insulted their honor).
The entire time they are in the tavern, Sting is super fidgety. He had just gotten back his wings, and he was aching to try them out. Granted, he had flown some along the ship, but that was different. He loved to glide, dive, whirl and soar within a city, as that was challenging. Plus, doing so always allowed him to see so much more than those bound to the ground.
So he sits near Connor, near twitching with the need to get outside and take to the sky. "How much longer you think before Adran either gets into a fight or decides he's done being yelled at and walks away? I wanna stretch my wings" Despite the incredible torment and torture he knows Elrohir endured, this is something Connor recognizes from the old Flick, the almost burning desire to fly.
Adran watches as the lizard demonstrates what he is speaking about. At the end when he puts up a hand sign as other in the inn mimic it Adran tries too as well.
"Is this how you do it?" He ask looking at his hand.
"So the Grimguards are like the toughest of the tough guys then huh? You guys must be Grimguards then right? He ask before stuffing some bread in cheese in his face.
Connor told Sting "All information is needed. Even information you get in a fight. But I'd rather not get in a fight just now." Connor went over the information about trading in his head. Average price plus five percent should be "honorable". Connor couldn't afford much more than that. As for foodstuffs from across the massive ocean, what would be "honorable"? And when he was down to his last crate? He'd have to tread lightly here.
"I don't think we're supposed to go much farther north." Connor mentioned to Sting. "So as to your...situation , we'll have to keep listening. Having fighters experienced with undead is interesting, though." Connor paused. "We'll have to find where the flight-friendly areas are here." he said to his friend.
The lizards agree with Adran's assessment. "Don't mess with those that look death in the eye day in day out, they aren't sane."
--------------------------time break------------------------
Connor finally makes some connections to sell the cargo, but ends up having to rent a warehouse first, despite his preference not to. Nobody will come look at them on the ship. Apparently it's required to have it in a warehouse to be looked at, nobody wants to crawl around in the ship's hold and try to figure out what was hidden from view by careful packing, they want to be be able to walk all around what they are buying and see it from all angles.
Having emptied the hold, and spent two days selling off the cargo, the crew finds themselves on the docks again, with an empty hold...
Adran heads back to the ship for a bit of rest until the others are ready to formulate a plan.
Once the last of the cargo in the rented warehouse being sold, Connor decided to be like a traditional Captain. "This afternoon and tonight is shore liberty. Minimum crew, and those left behind will rotate out so everyone gets at least 6 hours. Now then, don't do anything that will get us fined or kicked out. I understand that there are even some winged humans in the city. But use 'foreigner rules' while outside."
Turning to his adventurer crewmates later, Connor asked "Has anyone been able to get any information about Sting's lizardmen?"
Sorry mdt! My Septs are always crazy busy, as its not only my birthday, but also my bestie's(seven days after mine). This year was extra nuts cuz I'm potentially in-between jobs and still looking for a place to live(Been staying at my mom's atm).
Was just gonna post tonight, as I noticed earlier how long it's been. Again, apologies.
I hope the others are still around as well, though I personally would not mind looking for new blood if that would help re-kickstart this game.
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Hon, you might want to get back to your ship... and put me in one of those lead lined and runed boxes in the hold... Just in case... there's something going on, and it's not going to be pretty...
The building suddenly shakes, and a lizardfolk slams the door open. Wind gusts through the door, blowing hair. "Faaahhhh, Tarvin's Wrath!" And then it vanishes.
The heavy bodied lizardfolk and the bartender all go into motion, the bartender begins to close up and board windows, and the large lizards get up, leaving chairs overturned as they race with startling speed for the door.
Connor, looking very surprised , shouts "Leave canceled! Back to the Elephant!" Once outside the doorway, Connor took flight as quickly as he could, gaining altitude above the buildings and then making for the docks at top speed.
A storm has blown in, and winds gust up to 30 mph (50 kph). The sky has darkened over, and the sea is choppy, as if it can't make up it's mind which way it wants to move.
Off in the distance, on the horizon, near the setting sun, Connor thinks he sees a trident pierce the surface of the water briefly, thrusting up and blocking the sun for a second before it slides back into the water.
A cold rain begins to fall, the water pounding in like cold needles.
Adran up in the crows nest as usual secures his footing and holds on.
"Hey boss, getting rough up here. You sure you know how to captain this thing? Maybe we should hire or find a new guy to handle the boat." He says as he holds back an upchuck from breakfast.
Alys, flying fast toward the boat, is surprised by a down draft, and as her body slams into the rigging, the sounds of dozens of small fragile wing bones snapping can be heard, before her scream of pain cuts in over the snapping sounds.
Taking flight right behind Connor, Sting races towards the ship hopefully not having any difficulty in the storm. He too will look around as they fly back, looking for any dangers or threats
The city is aboil, lizardfolk and catfolk pulling in everything that could be broken off in wind. Premade boarding plates that slide right into slots outside of windows are being deployed, as if this is a semi-regular activity. Many of the walkways between buildings are being disconnected from each other and lashed to individual buildings. Lizardfolk swim from building to building, helping with the lashings.
As the rest of the group gets to the ship, the crew is already lowering Alys from the rigging, carefully as possible in the wind. The ship is swaying back and forth, rattling Adraniel in the crow's nest like a baby's rattle.
They notice other ships undocking and moving out from port, somehow moving against the ocean waves without their sails deployed.
As Connor lands, a small green lizardfolk climbs up and over the rail. "Hai, Cleric of Ambergriss be's me. Fifty Gold says I, protect ship from Wrath. Too late to fly, you try, you must be daft." It holds out it's hand, obviously wanting gold.
Landing on the deck, wondering what the vision was all about, Connor's first concern was Alys. Shouting several commands to start securing the rigging and any loose items, Connor heard the small lizardman.
Turning, he said against the winds to the newcomer, "Our kind doesn't trust wizards or godlings!" Present company excluded, Tenfa. Connor sent to the divinely-touched items on his person. Looking at the other ships and the turmoil, Connor added "But here - and if you're out to cheat us, I'll find your god's temple and chisel a complaint with your likeness upon its' walls!" Connor unhooked a common belt pouch from his belt, and added some more gold from another. He tossed the overstuffed pouch to the lizardfolk. Connor started wondering what Tenfa had said about lead-lined boxes in his hold, and if there was one large enough for others.
We'll talk later dear, put me in the magic eating box... quickly... and pay the small one, he may save your boat...
The lizardfolk takes the bag, and bites a few coins, leaving tooth marks in them. He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Good Gold, I do proclaim. Your boat to save from Wrath I do Aim. Batten hatches, take care. From Wrathful gazes hiding I will dare." The small lizardfolk then moves to the central mast and goes up it like there's no wind or rain, his feet and hands acting like they have glue on them.
He pops over the edge of the crows nest and grins at Adraniel. "Winged one now be time to hold tight, testing wrath of ancient God we do this night!" The lizardfolk wraps his legs around the mast, and holds his staff aloft and begins to humm and chant.
All over the city, the chant begins to rise, flowing from thousands of throats, some catfolk, most lizardfolk, all in a strange harmony.
Connor gets the items on his person into a box, and returns to the deck to ensure the ship is battened down.
And then the storm hits in all it's anger, cold rain slicing sideways, all but ignoring clothes and armor to slice at the skin, taking away warmth with each stinging splatter of water.
In the near darkness, something moves on the ocean, the waves slamming against the ship as it rocks in it's moorings. Flashes of lightning reveal a massive shape, hundreds of feet high, even though most of it is in the water.
A massive merfolk, bent with age, swims past the small town. His left eye is a patch covering the socket that once held an eye. His remaining eye, whatever it's former color, is blood red with a black pupil that darts and jumps. Bloody tears track their way down his grizzled face,
trailing down both cheeks.
His bent and grizzled form is covered in an armor made of the skins of his people of all races, and the faces moan in agony, the skin and the people who owned it obviously still alive in some macabre way. His trident is a mighty thing, the shaft and tines formed of choral and shells, several hundred feet long.
As he swims along next to the city, his trident moves, and massive lightning bolts fly from it, shattering buildings into splinters here and there. Those who were inside the building fly through the air, their skin pulled toward the armor and adding to the moaning chorus.
His massive face looks down on the airship, blood dripping to the deck, hissing and bubbling as it burns the magic retardant decking. The small lizardfolk grins maniacally and chants at the top of his little lungs, staring the massive visage in the eye as he does so.
Then the vissage moves on, swimming, blasting apparently randomly.
Several hours later, the storm begins to die out, and the massive merfolk is gone...