"andI'llletyouknowifsomeoneneedsresuscitation, otherwise it's just a waste of resources... sir."
"Eh? Oh. I have to admit, I've never worked with a Vitalist before." Connor replied from where he was on the deck. "I learned body adjustment, emphatic condition relief, and cleanse body because, well, no one else had! Plus I put vigor into Hero, here." Connor fingered the gemstone on his necklace. "So I have no idea if manifesting healing while networked with you helps or not. Thanks for healing during that...battle. I don't need your network now."
Turning back to Flann, Connor said "Continue, Vitalist. We did better than I thought during that ambush." Connor's face fell as he looked at the tarp-covered body still on the deck. "I need to learn a long-range firepower power." he said to no one in particular.
"Leader's meeting one hour after sunset, at dinner!" Connor called out to the crew.
Adran nods as he heads to take a nap now that they are touched down for repairs.
Flann nods. There isn't anything more to do. Connor was out of the network as soon as he had the thought. The Vitalist had heard of this kind of thing before. Telepathy wasn't as pleasant as folks thought. Flann had even heard of some vitalists who could hold a person in their network against their will, but there wasn't anything to do to ease Connor's mind than to give him his space.
Flann finds a quiet corner to clean his rifle.
The ship limps on, for several more days, finally reaching the mountain ranges to the south. Exactly which one they aren't sure, but they do not see any cities to make port in. Eventually, the mountains run out, and ocean is revealed again. Consulting the map you got, the navigator turns east and eventually finds a desert port marked 'Svobli' on the map.
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Connor, once the repair teams had been set, retreated back to his quarters. He spent the time crafting more gladiator's gauze, making three more universal items from his stores.
Emerging from his room, Connor is suspicious as he sniffs the colder air. Consulting the map, Connor swore when he found out their desert location. "We're 350-400 miles off course!" He looked over at Volita. "I thought there was nothing but criminals and lizardfolk down here. Are they going to want to buy our lumber cargo?" Connor demanded.
"Wait. Lizardfolk. This could be where Grimjowl's been getting his lizardfolk from." Connor surmised. He cautiously looked over the railing at the city on the horizon below.
"We need bigger guns." Connor reminded everyone.
"We have holes in the ship. How much of that cargo can we spare repairing the ship?" Connor asked Volita.
Connor estimates they need about 2000 square feet of planking, and about 200 feet of 4x4 beams, and about 400 feet of two-by-fours. One of the main supports for the engine took a hit, and you probably need to replace or repair (with psionics or magic) a 10 foot 8x8 beam that the engine mounts to.
The ship is not water tight, and after repairs, will need pitch coating (or wood warping with psionics or magic) to be water tight again.
You can hover the ship on one engine, so if you would prefer to buy wood somewhere, you can try that, and keep the expensive wood. However, you are also in a desert area, so wood is likely scarce (meaning your luxury wood will either be worth a lot, or nothing, depending on whether someone is rich in the town or not and wants it).
Depending on the port you put in at, they may have a dry dock and teams to repair ships, so you might be able to pay for it to be repaired. That would be faster than doing it yourself, but more expensive.
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"Mmmmmmmm, let me hop in to town and ask around. If there is any cheap wood to be had, we can buy that and sell our expensive wood. Or, if there's an established merchant that deals in wood, he might cut us a deal to swap ours for his.
Also, I'll look around for competent carpenters that would like to fly off and see the world. If we had some damage-control guys on board, that would probably come in handy.
Don't worry about me, I'll take Flann with me to keep me safe."
Flann shoulders his rifle. "Absolutely. Probably not much work for a midwife among lizardfolk in any case. Does it need to be made from wood? I mean, probably not brick or glass, but I'm sure they have something suitable."
Adran sits and keeps watch, hoping they were not followed and would not be found. He thinks on his days before and how all this sitting could be making him rusty.
"Well," Connor said, one eye on the approaching town, "since we can't put into port, we'll have to circle-hover around the perimeter. Make sure the officials know we're doing that so the skyship doesn't collapse, not that we're checking out their walls."
"Shipyard-quality wood is fine. And some weather-resistant brass and iron." he told Flann. "Even if we have to trade our fine wood for it. I'd rather sell the wood, get repaired, and have enough left over to buy the next cargo, or even better, a long-range smallbore cannon, than try to keep the cargo."
"But watch yourselves; this is lizardfolk country." Connor warned the two. "In fact, take Adran with you too. I'll fly down at the docks and deal with the Customs. You three look for wood to repair the ship, and to offload our cargo." Connor shifted his stance. "I'm not much in the mood to play the rich spoiled young captain or the flamboyant company ne'er-do-well this time. Maybe the down-on-his-luck merchant will be enough to keep the shysters away."
The ship comes close, and finds what looks more like a ruined city than a port city. Ancient stone buildings, some in fairly good shape, others collapsed and cannibalized for other buildings, are mixed in with tents and smaller stone buildings obviously built from debris.
The port itself is small, and filled mostly with small fishing boats, those that remain seaworthy. Those that don't are pulled up on the shore for cannibalization.
Walking amongst the 'ruins' are massive brown lizardfolk. They are unarmored, but heavily armed. Even those who do wear armor seem to be wearing it more for affectation than effect. Obviously, they consider a good defense to be an overwhelming offense.
Scattered around are humans (or elves, or both, hard to tell from a distance). There are also some brown skinned orcs wandering the streets as well, also heavily armed.
The city has no walls, at least, none that actually act as defensive walls any more.
When Connor and the other away team members wing it down to the harbor, they are noticed by a half-dozen laconically lounging lizardfolk, armed with spears that look more like anti-ship harpoons. Each lizardfolk is about 9 ft tall, not including his 6 foot tail.
The lizardfolk watch the winged folk, and the ship above, with all the curiosity of a bored housecat watching a pile of dirt.
As the party descends, Flann starts to poll the guards and passers by for willing psychic connections.
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Volita scowls internally at the lack of known structure and social order, but, as they say, 'crises' is pronounced 'opportunity'.
Having to start somewhere, and not seeing any other option, Volita gently floats down to the lazily lobbying caecilians.
"Greetings!" she says sweetly. "I am Volita, and my companions and I were waylaid by a fierce pirate on our way here! We managed to fight him off, but we have suffered many wounds, and are in dire need of supplies and aid.
Might you be able to tell me where the merchant's quarter is? We have a...variety of trade goods, including rare woods from far-off lands with which we might barter for repair material and critically needed supplies."
She had considered trying Attraction again, but reflecting on the house-on-fire that happened last time, she held off and just went conventional.
As Volita advertises the party's weaknesses, Flann watches the crowd's reactions.
The Vitalist continues to seek two willing targets to join Volita, Adraniel, and himself in a collective to help bridge any lingual or cultural barriers.
The lizards watch Volita, but none of them respond.
Eventually after the silence stretches out past awkward and into 'are they going to eat us' territory, a smallish (halfling sized) lizard with mottled brown and red scales and a head of spikes pipes up from the side. "They're not going to respond unless you speak to them in the Dragon's Tongue. It's against the traditions for a Svobli to use an outsider's tongue. Not that they don't understand you, they just can't acknowledge that they do."
Connor, still getting ready, saw Flann take off from the deck of the Elephant, Volita following. The dilapidated appearance of the sea-town didn't raise his expectations any. Connor adjusted Hero on his necklace and followed.
Landing in time to hear the smaller lizard-creature's explanation, Connor looked over the lizardfolk crowd in front of him, and responded to the smaller spokesman with "My thanks to one as diplomatic as yourself. May your fortunes be as sharp as your claws. Will you speak to us in the Dragon's Tongue in greeting? I might be able to pick up the language faster than you might think." Connor added a flowing bow to his compliment.
Connor planned on manifesting natural linguist as soon as the person used the Dragon's Tongue.
"What would you like me to say?"
Connor manifested natural linguist, saying back "That should be enough." He looked to see if his psionic power had changed the Svobli's rule about not speaking in other tongues.
"But I'm starting to think I need to hire a local translator." Connor concluded, looking at the lizardfolk on the pier.
The local lizards shift a bit, but generally ignore the group.
The lizardfolk in the robes hisses a laugh. "Magic doesn't count, stranger. You have to speak it yourself. Otherwise it's Sithasa, without honor." He rubs his chin with a claw. "Is that an offer of a job then? I do admit to being between jobs at the moment, what with the fishing fleet not actually fishing thanks to the Doomwhales. Say, 15 gold a day?"
Adran catches up after scouting around a bit.
"Hey boss folks here are well who knows they find it odd that I can talk in there tongue. So what do we need? We hiring this guy? For what to talk? 15gp a day? I will take that job. Better then sitting in the crows nest."
"How nice of you to join us, Adran." Connor drawled back. "And I am overjoyed at your learning that you never told us about before." The last was with a monotone of sarcasm. ;) "Why don't you explain to our potential clients our journey here from the North, our cargo, and our need to trade for some repairs?" To the smaller lizardfolk Connor said "I might need your services still; Adran cannot be everywhere at once, despite his energetic nature."
"Yeah, hey, no way you're leaving without some gold. Having someone who can speak the language is great, but I would like to have a cultural liaison as well. I have so many questions, and hopefully enough gold to forgive my ignorance. Mother says a wealthy guest is always welcome, and- well, the last part is a bit rude..." Flann is not carrying all of his gold, but it's enough to make his point. "-and if the Captain keeps you running all morning, I'd gladly pay separately to bend your ea- erm, to ensure you have a comfortable evening while I ask my questions."
Adran motions for Connor to lean in as he is short.
"Boss I am, I mean was an assassin. You got to talk your way out of things sometimes, though the lizard guys in the temple a while back just through me in the cell when I let myself get caught so Alys could escape.
He then looks back to Flann
"You wana pay they scaly one go for it. You just got to talk to these guys, buy them some drinks. The respect being respected. Worked for me in the last town. I won't be parting with any gold. No offense there scaled one. Sorry if you gave your name when I wasn't here." He hops and skips over extending his hand.
In Draconic: "They call me Adran."
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The robed lizardfolk looks a bit disappointed, but when Flann wants to hire him, he perks back up. "Ah, well, if it's a personal appointment, and not working for a group, I think I could drop the rate to say, 5 gold per day. And yes, speaking the language doesn't tell you when to slap someone's face and when not to, which can get complicated. You know how mating rituals go." The lizardfolk gives a hissing laugh, obviously making a joke. "You can call me Spike." He grins, rubbing his spiked horns.
The other lizardfolk all look amongst themselves when Adraniel begins speaking, at least understandable, draconic. There seems to be some sort of complex game of rock paper claws that goes on for a second, all silently and without any real movements beyond nostril flares, eye rolls, and grunts. Finally a female sighs heavily and takes a step forward, speaking in Draconic. "This one is hight Sliss'sla, Guardian of Svobli, Errant Knight of His Great Majesty, the replendant Golden Scaled Sa'ra'na, may his greater glory forever be spread under the sun and across the desert until it turns warm and the scum are burned away." Adran gets the strong impression he and the others are part of the scum that needs to be burned away, although it's not really put forth with any malice, more along the lines of a traditional greeting to scum. "This one will deign to speak the Low Speech to that one, to show more honor than is merited, so that that one will not struggle with the High Speech, a mistake in which would require this one to gut that one and spread that one's entrails over the city streets. This one would then have to fill out paperwork over that ones death. This one would prefer to avoid paperwork." A general grunt of agreement rolls over the assembled guards, as it appears paperwork is much desired in absence completely. "The merchants are, with some exceptions, gone away to the vile den of iniquity and filth, Masiaarin, for the Doom Whale Hunt, may the mad gods deliver those into the Doom Whales bellies." The guards all give a grunt of enjoyment at the thought of the merchants being eaten by a Doom Whale. "What filthy merchants do stay here are the ones that cannot afford to go to the city of filth and depravity to make filthy lucre. No doubt, those will hear of this ones desire to wallow in the filthy ways of... barter, and come running, as filth is want to do." Again, a near complete lack of animosity is felt from the lizardfolk, but it appears the words have quite a bit of ritualness to them.
Adran skip over and looks up to the lady lizard.
Draconic: "Hi ya. Oh you don't like merchants either? They are filthy, but my companions wish to deal with them so what can you do right. I hope it doesn't come to you gutting me. I like my guts right where they are. Thank you for the info." He bows "Golden Scaled Sa'ra'na. We will not be here any longer than needed."
He looks over to Connor
"Boss looks like trading here is bad news they already look down upon us and even more so now that we want to trade and barter. We should get what we need to fix the ship and go."
Flann forces a chuckle, wings fluttering. "Mating rituals, right. I'll try to keep my hands to myself..." He scratches the back of his head. "Is that, uh, likely to come up? With the language thing, the tone seems pretty... zenophobic. I was mostly interested in healing and pass-times. -Not, uh, those kinds of pass-times, though." Flann's face reddens.
"Well, Master Spike, the first priority is meeting with your merchants..." Connor began, before the female Lizardfolk started talking. Connor let the others speak, as he saw the trading opportunities drop faster than ballast overboard.
"Masiaarin..." Connor repeated.
The city to the West. Just their luck, Connor thought to himself, to land at the warrior/fishtown, instead of a normal port. He straightened, cautiously looking over the speaker and the rest of the crowd.
"Adran, you're our representative. Just remember we have more cargo than gold presently. Let's start, we're burning daylight. And no Doom Whale parts." Connor told the shorter Atalantian.
"Whatever you say boss, just don't blame me when things go sideways."
"Doom whale? What's that about? First fire breathing demons, and now doom whales? Don't tell me that's where the merchants went. That sounds highly dangerous."
Translating for Volita and Flann, Connor explained "The Svobli say that their merchants are West of here at a city called Masiaarin. They don't care much for merchants here, either. So we'll have to perch lightly. We need lumber and parts for repairs. I'll go back to the Elephant and explain the bad news to the crew. Master Spike here," Connor paused, giving the smaller Lizardfolk six gold , "will keep Adran from losing any body parts while you shop. Volita, try to not give away our last coffer of coins."
Connor gave the woman his garnet on a silver necklace as a show of authority.
Spike laughs. "Hey, the new Emperor is very enlightened, he doesn't kill merchants out of hand for lack of Honor like the previous Emperor. Nor does he execute non-lizardfolk on sight either. Amazing how much money is flowing into the country now, as opposed to just leaving it." He shows a very facile and reptillian grin. "ANyway, Flanny-me-boy, the important thing about mating rituals isn't so much how to start them..." He gives hooks a scaley thumb at the imposing and heavily armed 9 ft tall female lizardfolk. "...as to not start them, if you catch my drift?" He gives Flan a wink, and turns to watch Adraniel, as if expecting a very good show shortly.
The other lizardfolks lounging around move and make some odd noises, as if suppressing laughs.
The female lizardfolk woodenly stares at Adrianel, obviously straining to avoid acknowledging that she can understand the robed lizardfolk. In draconic, after Adranial finishes, she leans forward and roars into his face in draconic. She unlimbers a heavy morning star from her hip, the head nearly as big as Adrian's torso.
Apparently, calling her by the emperor's name (Sa'Ra'Na) instead of her own (Sliss'sla) is a major insult to the Emperor, and has changed her from bored and apathetic to angry and blood thirsty
Spike ducks his head as first Adrianel mis-speaks names, and then shakes his head as the female roars. "Oooh, bloodshed, do wing folk have red blood? Or is it more green like wood elves?" Spike asks Flann, sliding over closer to his erstwhile explorer, his voice low this time, no intended to carry. "Well, I shall soon find out it appears." He looks at Flann speculatively.
Spike appears to be hinting strongly that he might be able to talk Adrianal out of this.
The other lizardfolk in the background begin to trade grunts and hushed conversation.
The other lizardfolks are making bets on how big a bloody stain Adran makes, or how many parts fly off, when Sliss'sla hits him.
"That does seem a bit outside your current pay grade. Three gold now, and all bloodshed is strictly for academic purposes?" Flann spins the coins over knuckles and displays them in a fan behind his back as Spike passes by. "I think that's fair to excuse whatever flatulence my friend just passed. If you could avoid making him look like an idiot too, that would be dearly appreciated."
Spike gives another reptillian grin, and passes a hand over Flanns, and the coins vanish.
"Now now Sliss'sla, that one obviously is so impressed by that one's scales that it has been confused and blinded. That one must admit that that one's scales, muscles and weapon are obviously the most impressive of the Knights Errant here, yes?" Spike projects his voice strongly, to intervene.
Sliss'sla pauses, and glares at Spike, but then settles her weapon back on her hip again. "Then that one can deal with the outlander. This one has better things to do than deal with one that can barely speak." She turns and walks off back to the other lizardfolk, who are all looking anywhere but at her as they talk about the weather.
~you mean the ones hunting the Doom Whale? Sorry, that was clearly private...~ Flann slowly raises the metaphorical driver's partition.
"So, Spike, this doom whale... Do those words mean misfortune and giant fish, respectively? Because those words evoke a giant, misfortune-causing fish in our language, and I want to make sure I heard correctly when they said the merchants we're after are hunting a literal ship-sunderingly huge sea creature which additionally needs the qualifier 'doom' to differentiate it from the other ship-sunderingly huge sea creatures. Is this a street name for a narcotic? Are they," Flann makes air quotes with his fingers, "chasing the doom whale?"
Flann prepares to follow the others as the crowd begins to part.
Spike scratches his chin. "Well... in my language, Doom Whale means a big giant whale that causes massive amounts of doom when it gets upset, and it's always upset." He points at a building at one end of the bay, and then another about 800 feet away. "Adults are about that big, not counting the horn, although they say Mad Eye's Favorite is about half again as big. Each one has a horn about a tenth of their length growing out of their head. They come in every year during the summer to mate in the cool waters. The fleets go out hunting them. The horn is worth ten times it's weight in gold for the ivory. The ambergriss in it's belly is worth a hundred times it's weight in gold. The skin can be used for armor for ships and walls, it's meat is good, it's bones can be used to build ships or buildings, it's blood for magic reagent, basically a whole whale is worth the cost for the ships that survive to bring it back. On a good year, they'll bring back one adult and a couple of juveniles and only lose a third of the fleet."
Connor sees the reaction of the crowd to the mispronunciation in Draconic, as well as Spike recovering the conversation.
"Remember your wings - and let's avoid any bloodshed!" Connor calls out as he leaves the port deck. With a jump and a rapid use of his wings, Connor made for the Elephant up in the sky.
Adran looks about a bit in awe reflecting on what mistake he could have made.
"Well that was a little misunderstanding. See boss sideways. So where we headed?"