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A westerly wind picks up as your ship approaches the inner mouth of the Bay of Chult. To the west, mountains of dark gray stone lead to jagged peaks, jutting out from an endless canopy of trees so thick it seems as if the sunlight could only dare beat its way in. Ahead, the tall, stonecast walls of Port Nyanzaru form a stockade barrier between the bay and the city proper.
Your ship passes through the gates, revealing the harbor and land rises marking the city’s districts. Rows of buildings made of multihued patched stonework are decorated by colorful rooftops and murals. Small, winged lizards flitter past the ship’s bow, heading off into the trees as you pull into the harbor. You’ve finally arrived in Chult, and it’s time to get a clear lay of the land
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Now there's a sight fer sore eyes, Dwalar thinks as they approach land. I'll be only too glad ta have solid ground beneath me boots again. A stout dwarf clad in chainmail, Dwalar carries a shield with a hefty axe on his belt. The left half of his beard is full and proud, but the right half is patchy, half-shorn, and burnt at the tips. "Never been here before meself. Anything I oughta know?"
A small, young humanoid with large brown eyes and strange earrings has been clambering around in the rigging, devouring as much of the shoreline as she can and sweeping her gaze back and forth along the coast. Never having seen mountains before, Nella can't stop staring. This is why she left home. To wander and see the wonders of the world. Chondalwood's place in her heart would never be lost and as long as she wore her earthbone earrings, her soul would always be there. But exploring is too much fun to pass up! The trees and rivers and strange new creatures fill her with awe.
She slides down a rope and drops nimbly on the deck. She claps her hands playfully at one of the deckhands. [b]What are those flying scalies, treeman?[b] she asks eagerly.
Spike, the Goblin in plain brown monastic robes, has spent most of the trip helping the crew with any tasks that needed to be done. Seeing the coastline approach, he retired to his quarters. He emerged a few minutes later dressed in beggars clothes with his dark green hair tied back, looking just a little to put together to be some random Goblin street urchin.
Now, he stands on the deck of the ship looking toward the city. Shifting his almost empty backpack back and forth uncomfortably, he says, "I have never been here Either. But, wherever we go, we will find those who need help. We should find them quickly."
An elf drifts up to the railing, bringing a strong scent of pine forests and dark woods. Many tiny wood chips from her clothes leaving a thin trail across the deck. Blue eyes gaze at the passing shore line while she works the final touches on a small wood carving of a griffon more by touch than sight. Nodding with a sense of satisfaction, she slips the small carving knife back into a blue pouch and sets the carving on the railing. Her thin, pale hand then unconsciously brushes several stray wisps of long platinum hair from her face, revealing the intricate knotwork tattoos circling her wrists and neck.
"This is my first time here as well, so I'm afraid I can't help you much sir dwarf." She says with a smile and then bows her head politely to the armored knight. "My name is Shaldinari, I don't believe we've had a chance to meet despite the tight quarters on board."
She stomps inquisitively in response to the goblins question.
Who do you think needs help? Maybe I should help...
Spike looks at the gnome, and then looks back toward the city. He sighs, sounding tired, "People. Probably poor people. Certainly weak people. That much is true everywhere. We just need to nail down the details."
Spike looks up at Dwalar waiting for him to see the irony, but doesn't say anything.
Nella looks at the gathered humanoids and makes several, quiet, small stomps. She then turns to the rail and stares down into the sea for a while.
With the heat beating down on him, and rivulets of sweat running down his body under his armor, Davin is happy to get off the vessel and get himself a cool drink in a shady tavern.
A typical looking human, he carries his pack on his back and a longsword sheathed at his side. A quiver of goose-fletched arrows hangs from a quiver at his side, while he holds a powerfully built longbow in his hand.
"It's hot, sticky and that is about all I can say good about the place so far....and what is that Stink! Why did I ever think this was a good idea coming to this place?"
"Chances we've had. Ain't me fault if you elves always look over the heads o' lesser folk." Dwalar claps Shaldinari on the back with a grin."Dwalar Halfbeard, they call me. Bet you'll never guess as to why."
Shaldinari's eyes sparkle with humor at the dwarf's comment and the ensuing stares from the goblin and halfling just to his side. "'Tis often true what you say of my kind, although I think in this case it may have been those first days I spent hanging over the side, not seeing much but the sea." She grabs her stomach while slipping the carving back into her hand, "Sea travel has never really agreed with me. If not for my carving to take my mind off of the seasickness, I would be even worse off."
She then bows and smiles to both the goblin and halfling. "Shaldinari Vec, a pleasure to meet you both as well."
Nella turns back from over the railing and looks up at the elf. She then performs a stiff little bow and responds
"Nella Yenwood. The sun shines on our meeting."
The Goblin smiles a wide, genuine smile. He is not used to friendly greetings. ”Good to meet you. I’m Spike.”
Soon enough its time to disembark in this tropical city under the blazing sun. The air is so thick here you could probably take a dinosaur sized bite out of it. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas.
Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing, and singing.
A gold colored humanoid approaches with a few burly dockworkers. The golden humanoid resembles a dragonborn, but has somewhat more human features. He booms a welcome in a lingering accent "So, you are the ones who will save us from this curse? Wonderful...wonderful..." he jests before "I am the harbormaster, Zindar." he bows "Nezoi...nsi...nsi" he motions to his companion who delivers a strange leather parchment with a map of the port on one side, and a map of the known Chultan peninsula on the other. "You may seek lodgings at the Thundering Lizard, just there in the Market Ward."
Spike looks at the golden humanoid with a pained expression and says, "I will try, sir. But first I need to get the lay of the land. Is there a temple or shrine to Ilmater in your beautiful city? Would it be near the Anchorage?
Standing on the docks, feeling a bit of a cool breeze and enjoying the shade, Davin lets out a long sigh.
"Davin Grey at your service."
Pointing to the giant lizard walking down the avenue, the sweaty human comments, "Well this looks like an exciting place!"
Shaldinari looks in the direction pointed out by Davin and laughs quietly, "Shaldinari, a pleasure to meet you Davin." She says. "He does seem to be hamming up his performance for those children."
Her eyes scan the rest of the waterfront and city. "And so brightly colored. Yes, it does seem like an interesting and exciting place. If a bit warm." She adds.
She takes the map from the dockworker and with a nod to Bjorn's suggestion Shaldinari slips her pack over her shoulder. "Finding a room seems like an excellent idea. Then I'd be happy to join you all in exploring the city further."
Zindar looks at the goblin somewhat apologetically "Why no, no, master bogey...but the temples we do have are a sight to see! There is Savras, Gond, and Sune in the Merchant's ward. You won't find their architectural match anywhere in Faerun!! Waukeen also has a temple in the Market Ward, quite a sight..."Hall of Gold" they call it. That's near the Thundering Lizard and the Red Bazaar. Then down in Malar's Throat...ah, that's the slums past Ubtao's Jaws...there is also a temple to Tymora."
As his words soak in, a brightly colored parrot *cacaws* and swoops past, dropping a load on one of the dockworkers who doesn't bat an eye.
Zindar adds "Now, if you are here answering the calls for aid, the Merchant Princes have directed me to assist you in finding the faction representatives...they are offering fortune and glory to any who might assist, not just their own members." he gives you a quick breakdown about where to find them:
Well, I have a man I need to see in the Merchant's Quarter if anyone wishes to come with me?"
Davin will set off in search of his contact, Klevin.
'I also have some things to see to. I will rejoin you at the inn this evening.'
Spike makes his way, slowly, toward the old city to see Pock Marked Po. He keeps an eye out along the way to notice beggars and pick pockets. He's not trying to catch or stop the pick pockets. He just wants to know if there are any.
"Thank you for the information and I hope I'll be of some small help in resolving the situation." Shaldinari says to the harbormaster followed by a graceful bow of her head.
Watching Davin and Spike head off in different directions, she shrugs a shoulder and then says to those remaining. "Well, I'm off to the inn and then I'll be heading up to Malar's Throat, in case anyone else is going in that direction. Otherwise I'll join you all in the common room this evening."
Eager to be off the ship, she makes her way down the ramp. After a few seconds of enjoying the feel of hard earth under her feet again, she sets off toward the inn.
-------Merchant's Ward - Davin
The western half of the city is called the Merchants’ Ward because it’s the site of the Grand Souk and because many of the merchant princes’ villas are there. In general, this is the upper-class section of the city. The majority of the city’s merchants and traders actually live and work in the Market Ward.
You arrive at Klevin's shop "The Weave of Life", which sports a number of exotic garments and what look like self-published pamplets describing local customs and traditions. A one-eyed tabaxi stocking the shelves is startled when you enter, but greets you cordially "Oh, looking for Klevin? He is out for the day, but perhaps I could provide some information? Are you one of the foreigners he called for? Im Blackleaf."
-------Old City - Spike
After casing the district a few hours, you learn that three ancient, vine-covered ziggurats tower above this crumbling ward. The whole district is a juxtaposition of ancient and decaying (but still occupied) stone structures interspersed with flimsy new huts and longhouses of bamboo and thatch. This is a sharp contrast to the other colorful and relatively luxurious districts you passed through on the way here.
The Old City is run by “beggar princes” in a mocking parallel to the merchant princes of the city proper. They have no official authority, but each of them sits atop a web of debts, favors, incriminating information, and loyal muscle that allows them to get things done with an efficiency that the merchant princes sometimes envy. Unlike the merchant princes, whose positions are based on wealth that passes from generation to generation in the same family, the identities and even the number of the beggar princes changes continually.
The Old City is run down but it isn’t a slum or a haven for thieves. Most of the residents are lower-class laborers or struggling artisans who can’t afford the higher rents of homes inside the city walls.
You start poking around for Po's hut and get a little attention from a gnarly looking dwarf with the worst breath you've ever smelled "Who's asking, footpad? You want to see Po you can work through me."
-------Market Ward - Shal
No one knows how the Red Bazaar got its name. One story is that the label comes from the huge slabs of dinosaur meat sold here and the resulting buckets of blood that stain the rain-washed gutters, and that’s probably as good an explanation as any.
The residents of Port Nyanzaru shop for their daily needs at the Red Bazaar. Unlike the Grand Souk, which deals heavily in durable goods and luxury items, the Red Bazaar deals in everyday needs: locally produced meat, vegetables, tropical fruit, tej, light tropical clothing, insect repellent, rain catchers, and other household goods. The buyers and sellers in the Red Bazaar are predominantly locals.
Nearby there also seems to be a bustling fish market. When you think about it, fishing is probably much safer than hunting dinosaurs. Finally, you can see and hear the Grand Coliseum (gladitorial arena) nearby.
You find the Thundering Lizard Inn, which looks about as ancient as any ruins you've ever seen comfortably nestled in a corner of the Red Bazaar. The thick stone slabs offer a quick relief from the pelting heat as you step into the shadows.
Despite it being the early afternoon, the scene is absolutely chaotic.
Bottles are flying in every direction and there seems to be at least 3 fistfights happening in small gatherings about the stained carpeted floors. Some kind of large piece of furniture, a cupboard perhaps, is completely disassembled in the center of the bar. In a corner some halflings seem to be playing a drinking game where they whip a velociraptor in the face, and the first one it snaps at has to drink. Incredibly ugly men openly make out with incredibly ugly women sitting on their laps. A bored looking tiefling woman cleans greenhued glassware behind the counter...
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The Goblin smiles a wide, genuine smile. He is not used to friendly greetings. ”Good to meet you. I’m Spike.”
About this time a half-elf emerges from below deck his hands in stocks. His eyes are closed tight with the bright light striking his face. A large sailor's that drug him up from below decks, the bilge judging by the smell of rancid sea water which can be nosed from away off, kicks him in the back of the knee and squeezes his shoulder forcing him to drop.
The half-elf seems unimpressed with the display talks over his shoulder to the large man, "You have me at your mercy the extra cruelty is unnecessary. Unless your compensating." He half chuckles smugly. The large man bats him in the back of the head and calls for the captain. While the man waits for the captain an attractive in the right lighting female sailor approaches the manacled half-elf. The half-elf offers a smile, "Hello luv . . ." He meant to say more but the female sailor gives him a smack before storming off.
Another woman a human passenger is gathering her things before leaving the ship sees the slap and exclaims looking at the unfortunate half-elf, "hmff hussy." Several sailors spring to keeping the female sailor who slapped the half-elf from throttling the woman.
The half-elf laughs silently as he flinches lifting his shoulders, "ooo." Until shade falls over him. "Good Day Cap'n I see by the snake birds and the oppressive sun that we survived. True there was little doubt you . . . run a tight ship." He lifts his bound hands as an example.
The captain grabs the half-elf by the manacles bending the half-elf's arms over his head so that his writs are at the nape of his neck. The captain grabs a bit of the half-elf's pony tail and tugs, "You're a marked disruption to my ship. I am ajoyed to see you go."
The half-elf slips from the manacles and a shocked look crosses the Captain's face as he raises one hand with the manacle dangling from his wrist. The half-elf stands rubbing his wrists he looks about sizing things up. "Oh the key." He hands it back to the captain, "You'll want that." He adjusts his ragged clothing. "Well I live to see others filled with joy. Tis one of the blessings of Lady Luck. All I require is my effects."
The captain leans forward with a menace in his voice. "Your 'effects' were given as recompense to those you had stolen from. Get off my ship before I have you keelhauled and have cookie use your entrails for sausage binding."
The half-elf does not push the matter. "Good day to you captain.'
"Oh excuse me." The half-elf bumps one of the sailors as he makes his way off the ship. He descends the ramp and as he turns to walk down the dock he examines a black belt with a rapier hanging from a frog. The rapier swinging as it dangles from the belt as the half-elf fiddles with the belt pouch also on the belt.
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Nella wanders rather aimlessly around the city for several hours, amazed at the colors and creatures, before heading to the Thundering Lizard. There she eats a tiny meal while staring off towards a wall, thinking about everything she's seen while gently touching her earrings.
Nella, while wandering aimlessly you were witness to the killing of what was, perhaps, an innocent man down in the Old City. There was a great track the locals called "Executioner's Run", filled with panthers and allosaurus. A man begged that his husband did not steal the things he was said to steal, but the complaint fell on deaf ears. The Chultan's husband was thrown down into the track, and ran by foot for not 20 yards before being devoured to the cheering of onlookers.
Back in the Thundering Lizard, you too are witness to the most raucous scene you have ever seen, read about, or dreamed of. The popular drink is something called Tej, an amber-colored, fermented drink made from honey. It's more common and popular in Chult than beer or ale, apparently...and seems to provide a certain 'pep' to its imbibers.
The fact that you can block everything out garners the attention of the other halflings who were sporting with the velociraptors. You hear an "Oy, Daisy, ye dunnae have to sit alone..." with annoying little kissy sounds coming your way.
Bottles are flying in every direction and there seems to be at least 3 fistfights happening in small gatherings about the stained carpeted floors. Some kind of large piece of furniture, a cupboard perhaps, is completely disassembled in the center of the bar. In a corner some halflings seem to be playing a drinking game where they whip a velociraptor in the face, and the first one it snaps at has to drink. Incredibly ugly men openly make out with incredibly ugly women sitting on their laps. A bored looking tiefling woman cleans greenhued glassware behind the counter...
Stifling a heavy sigh, Shaldinari works her way through the busy common room to the tiefling at the counter. Catching her eye, she leans in and raises her voice in order to be heard over the crowd. "I'm looking to rent a room." Her brow furrows with a glance at the packed hall, "Actually a couple of rooms, do you have anything open?"
Davin studies the Tabaxi for any of the regular signs of a member of the Lord's Alliance before he reveals his ring and speaks to the fellow.
"Yes I am, and I will tell you I am not very happy to be here! It is too hot, it smells funny and I was just getting to know this halfling lass back in Waterdeep if you know what I mean. Next thing I know is the Alliance is calling me up and telling me I have to set sail to this gods-awful peninsula. And when I ask why, you know what they said...they said 'Klevin will fill you in when you get there'! Can you believe that! Bah...anyway, when will he be back so I get my marching orders and get whatever it is done and return to the blissfully cool north."
He wipes the sweat from his brow with a rag as he waits for the scarred Tabaxi to answer him.
Wow Bhoors, what an intro! Take inspiration.
Soon enough its time to disembark in this tropical city under the blazing sun. The air is so thick here you could probably take a dinosaur sized bite out of it. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas.
The half-elf slips almost effortlessly through the crowd like a fish through the sea. He turns in a full circle never slowing to avoid a near collision with another pedestrian. The crowd thins for a few paces. As the half-elf pulls the belt from his shoulder and wraps it around his waist and buckles it on.
The half-elf moves past pier side fruit vendor with another turn and slip among some other pedestrians he looks at a length of yellowish sage fabric with a few choice pieces of fruit in it. He stows some of the fruit in his belt pouch and drapes the fabric over his shoulders he tosses one of the pieces of fruit in his hand catching it on the back of his hand before taking a bite from the juicy plumb.
Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing, and singing.
The half-elf smiles pulling a few flowers from the walls cuts through the crowd awkwardly, for the first time if anyone is watching, he almost collides with a young woman dancing among the minstrels. He steps to the side twice almost colliding with her again, its almost cute if it weren't so cliché. He offers her the flowers. Nods and offers to join her dancing.
The two dance awkwardly a moment. The half-elf bows.
He moves on from his dancing and laughs at the children and the big-toothed lizard. He reaches into his beltpouch and pulls out a dragon fruit. Cracks it open on the hilt of his rapier breaking it into to two pieces and offering a half to two of the grubbier looking children. He catches a hand of a third child trying to pick his pocket. He crouches down furrows his brow in faux outrage and wags a finger. "Never interrupt charity. If you rob someone trying to be kind they might not have it to share with you in the future." He then fishes in his beltpouch and pulls a silver piece out and puts it in the kids hand. "You've hungry friends. SHARE."
A gold colored humanoid approaches with a few burly dockworkers. The golden humanoid resembles a dragonborn, but has somewhat more human features. He booms a welcome in a lingering accent "So, you are the ones who will save us from this curse? Wonderful...wonderful..." he jests before "I am the harbormaster, Zindar." he bows "Nezoi...nsi...nsi" he motions to his companion who delivers a strange leather parchment with a map of the port on one side, and a map of the known Chultan peninsula on the other. "You may seek lodgings at the Thundering Lizard, just there in the Market Ward."
The half-elf some of you might remember from the ship and his discipline from the captain emerges from the crowd. When last you saw him he was only wearing a pair of loose torn breeches but now he is wrapped in a colorful light sage fabric that runs over his shoulders crosses in an 'X' over his chest and the excess is tucked into a belt you don't remember seeing him with. He stops at the same time the rest of you stop in front of the harbor master. He places a hand to his chest silently wondering if the gold skinned almost dragonborn was actually talking to him. "Curse? That sounds serious." He comments absently, surely not He looks at the map before someone far more responsible than him collects it. "Thundering Lizard. I think I have heard of that place. Sounds lively."
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Malar's Throat - Bjorn
This region outside the city walls is clearly Port Nyanzaru’s slum district. Two sheer, jungle-draped ridges flank a deep ravine. Ramshackle buildings cling to the sides of the ridges, each structure seemingly built atop the lower one’s roof. During heavy rain, runoff pours down the ravine, through Ubtao’s Jaws (the large gate in the city wall facing Malar’s Throat), and down the paved streets to the harbor, often sweeping along unattended baskets, dead animals, and even clumsy or unlucky Chultans in its tow.
Foot bridges of rope and bamboo hang above the ravine. Some of them are 200 feet long or longer and sway a hundred feet above ground, terrifying the faint of heart. Skilled thieves have been known to drop hooks on thin lines from the bridges and “fish” purses right off victims’ belts.
The locals point you to a hut far up on the ridge, the residence of your Emerald Enclave contact, Screaming Wind. No one is there, but a pterodactyl wing has a missive written in a bright purple dye:
::Seeds of Corruption! Residents, a blight creeps through the foliage of our ravine! Whispers of undead and pterafolk are not idle rumors! I seek a party to assemble and bring the fight to them! 50 gold::
A Chultan man nearby sees you reading the notice and sighs "A princes sum, but what does she expect us to do? We are weak without food...we cannot fight the dead."
Thundering Lizard - Shal
The tiefling looks you up and down squeaking her rag on the glass and shouts "Da, Sy'Tel'Quessir..." she uses the elven word for 'wood elf' in a strange accent. A small fire is ignited at a table a few feet away while some laughing dwarves quickly extinguish it. "Many. 5 taran, each person, each night." she uses the Amnish word 'taran' for 'silver', perhaps it has something to do with the Port being once an Amnish colony.
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"It's been a pleasure ta journey with all o' you," Dwalar says as they begin parting company. "Haven't joined a faction as yet, but I've agreed ta help a man by the name o' Alastar Bol. Lady elf, I'll make sure yeh get ta the inn." He makes his way with Shaldinari to the Thundering Lizard. "If yeh never been in a place like it... well, let's just say someone like yourself can attract the wrong sorts o' attention."
As they enter the place, Dwalar's eyes widen. "Bouncin' bugbears. Wasn't there anyplace else we mighta stayed in?"
As Shaldinari squeezes her way toward the bar, a fat half-orc's hand reaches out to her. Dwalar quickly swats it away. "She's with me, jellyguts, an' don't yeh forget it."
Merchant's Ward - Davin
Her little cat face explodes with delight, flashing her fangs and purring loudly "Wow, Waterdeep! The City of Splendors! How exotic, I grew up on the stories of Khelben Blackstaff. Anyways I'll try to fill you in, though I hope you have a group with you because I don't think this is a solo mission. He's on the trail of a group of smugglers, some kind of ancient artifact supposed to be slipping in. He's meeting a contact trying to nail down their location right now, I imagine Klevin will be back tomorrow! I do remember he was paying 50 gp for each of the group that can help him."
Can people have the same faction or is it one to a team?
Harbor Ward - Bhoors
Zindar nods offering "So, you've not heard of the curse? It was first noticed among those who had been resurrected by divine magic...they were all withered and wasted away again to the dark. Soon after priests discovered their raising prayers were unanswered. There doesn't seem to be any precision in the affliction...it is simply affecting all life on the Chultan peninsula."
Dwalar, Bol is in the Market Ward at his villa if you want to go talk to him. Zindar mentioned he is again seeking assistance!
"Oh yes that curse. Its why I am here." At least it sounds like an opportunity. "Tell me. It sounds like it has struck Chult harder than other places. You know from what I have been told." By you. Thank you. He leans in, "I'd want to know why that is. First hand.
Bhoors, Zindar raises an eyebrow "And that is why I personally welcome all foreigners who have answered our calls for help. Forgive my suggestion but some have been more of a hindrance. However, I can sense the fires of heroism that stir you and it brings hope to my heart." he bows "Again, you are most welcome!" Shouts from the next pier gather his attention, there seems to be an aquatic traffic jam within a few small jettys.
The Goblin smiles a wide, genuine smile. He is not used to friendly greetings. ”Good to meet you. I’m Spike.”About this time a half-elf emerges from below deck his hands in stocks. His eyes are closed tight with the bright light striking his face. A large sailor's that drug him up from below decks, the bilge judging by the smell of rancid sea water which can be nosed from away off, kicks him in the back of the knee and squeezes his shoulder forcing him to drop.
The half-elf seems unimpressed with the display talks over his shoulder to the large man, "You have me at your mercy the extra cruelty is unnecessary. Unless your compensating." He half chuckles smugly. The large man bats him in the back of the head and calls for the captain. While the man waits for the captain an attractive in the right lighting female sailor approaches the manacled half-elf. The half-elf offers a smile, "Hello luv . . ." He meant to say more but the female sailor gives him a smack before storming off.
Another woman a human passenger is gathering her things before leaving the ship sees the slap and exclaims looking at the unfortunate half-elf, "hmff hussy." Several sailors spring to keeping the female sailor who slapped the half-elf from throttling the woman.
The half-elf laughs silently as he flinches lifting his shoulders, "ooo." Until shade falls over him. "Good Day Cap'n I see by the snake birds and the oppressive sun that we survived. True there was little doubt you . . . run a tight ship." He lifts his bound hands as an example.
The captain grabs the half-elf by the manacles bending the half-elf's arms over his head so that his writs are at the nape of his neck. The captain grabs a bit of the half-elf's pony tail and tugs, "You're a marked disruption to my ship. I am ajoyed to see you go."
[dice=Sleight of hand]1d20+5
The half-elf slips from the manacles and a shocked look crosses the...
Spike knows how Goblins are expected to act in these kinds of interactions, so he cringes away from the Dwarf and snivels, "Yeah that sounds great! Thank you! How can I help?"
Spike, he seems a bit surprised by your demeanor "You ain't like others of your kind I know...that hair, for starters." he shrugs "Po's lookin' fer a group to win the Grand Prize of the Oracle in the upcoming games. Dunnae ask why, ye can chat Po about the reasons. But you ain't gonna see Po without a group, that's that. I do know it pays 60 gold fer everyone and whatever other trinkets the princes are offerin'."
The tiefling looks you up and down squeaking her rag on the glass and shouts "Da, Sy'Tel'Quessir..." she uses the elven word for 'wood elf' in a strange accent. A small fire is ignited at a table a few feet away while some laughing dwarves quickly extinguish it. "Many. 5 taran, each person, each night." she uses the Amnish word 'taran' for 'silver', perhaps it has something to do with the Port being once an Amnish colony.
Watching the fun filled flames being extinguished she shakes her head at the dwarven antics. "Is it always like this?" She asks the teifling while slipping enough coins to cover rooms for herself and her companions for the first night. "And whiskey for myself and my friend." She adds with a gesture toward Dwalar.
After securing rooms and a drink she turns to Dwaler, "Care to join me while we wait for the others to arrive?" She says and then starts making her way through the crowd to an open table with the deftness of someone used to avoiding the unwelcome hands of tavern patrons without spilling a drop.
Shal, she nods "Yeah, its quiet and boring like this in the early afternoon...everyone just sitting around." she sets a few hollowed out brontosaurus teeth on the counter and pours a liquid reeking like kerosene and tumeric into them. The rooms are down an inclined passage that gets cooler and cooler as you go. They are dark but surprisingly quiet and accommodating, easily secured with the right key: a black stone reinforced with glistening brass on its ciphers.
Nella freezes in horror as she watches the execution. She is only able to react after it is too late for the poor man. She turns into a quieter alley and sobs, wiping her tears with a corner of her tunic. She then tears the wet corner off carefully and carries it to the waterfront. There she sets it in the sea.
In the Thundering Lizard, the small young adult halfling pays little attention to the noise of those around her. But when another halfling calls out rudely to her, she holds extremely still as she responds in an eerily calm voice while her left hand reaches up to an earring "I'm never alone."