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Freeport. Mid-Sarenith. Dusk.
The sun sets quickly in the west as you make your way through the Eastern District. The streets are surprisingly empty as you’ve hit the magical hour when the more honest tradesmen are eating their dinner and the rest have either hit the bars or are waking up to a night of nefarious deeds.
As the sea breeze slows, the muggy heat settles over you bludgeoning you with the scent of cooking food punctuated by the chamber pot contents that you step around now and then. It’s still enough that occasionally you hear your own boots scuff on the uneven cobblestone as you reach your destination and see a few dark figures ahead.
Obviously, you weren’t the only one to be approached on the dock by the fat red faced man with a superior attitude. He offered a couple coins and the opportunity to make something of yourself for an honest night’s work. You are well aware that ‘an honest night’s work’ is a contradiction in Freeport, but it seemed worth checking out as the man’s airs seemed to imply he might have some noteworthy contacts, who might at least put in a good word to get you back on a ship.
As you approach the meeting place you see the others gathering in front of a non-descript row house. It might have been a business, but the shingle has been removed. The solitary ground floor window has been boarded over and a few rough boards are nailed across the door…
The small man known as Dingus is the first to arrive. Wearing his tattered hooded cloak as always, he slowly approaches the building, his cane making a rat-a-tat sound on the uneven cobbles. Dingus looks for somewhere to sit and wait for the man he had spoken to earlier. Trying to stay as cool as possible in the grips of this horrid humidity.
Madman Jim Patterson arrives next, walking easily down the middle of the street (and avoiding alley mouths, alcoves, and other places where press-gangs or worse might be lurking). One hand stays near the hilt of his rapier at all times. He approaches Dingus, stopping at a nonthreatening distance. "Jim Patterson. The fat man send you, too?" Patterson has classic Taldan features, but doesn't come across as snooty as most of his countrymen (which isn't saying much).
You hear a few grunts from the alley followed by the sound of a stream of water hitting the cobbles. The sound dies off to an intermittent splatter, then some moments later you see a filthy small figure limp out of the alley leaning on his quarterstaff.
"Hoo boy, I feel a couple pounds lighter and sweetly relieved. Well neither of ye look too fat so I'm assumin we still be waiting for tha man of the hour" He pauses, fishing a flask from his tunic and taking a deep swig. "I don't remember what he be looking like as things were a bit blurry this mornin."
He squints at the two men in front of him, before extending a weathered hand in greeting: "I be Dibbets, and I heared you're called Jim - what name to the ladies cry out in your presence then?"
Madman Jim Patterson arrives next, walking easily down the middle of the street (and avoiding alley mouths, alcoves, and other places where press-gangs or worse might be lurking). One hand stays near the hilt of his rapier at all times. He approaches Dingus, stopping at a nonthreatening distance. "Jim Patterson. The fat man send you, too?" Patterson has classic Taldan features, but doesn't come across as snooty as most of his countrymen (which isn't saying much).
From deep within the folds of his cloak the raspy voice answers "Yes". "I am called Dingus".
A tall man in a black coat, with a wide black hat walks down the middle of the street. He pauses to stare down an alley, just before a young ruffian comes out of the shadows, looks at him with a comprehension of fear and runs down the street.
He resumes his walk and approaches the group. His black wrinkled clothes are covered with salt stains. Under his hat is seen long white hair matted with salt, it looks damp. The part of his face visible is pale, and covered in few days of white stubble, but his skin looks too young for so much white hair.
He carried a rapier on his hip. The pommel guard has a chitin inset that resembles a skull and crossbones. His steps are soft, but seem to leave wet footprints that fade after several seconds.
His left hand rests on the pommel, the ring finger of this hand is missing.
Those with knowledge of the town know this is the Groom, a disturbing prophet. He stops in front of the group, looking at no one in particular, he intones, "A die is about to be cast. The Pirate Queen has shown an interest." His voice has a slight gurgle as if water were in his throat.
Having watched the group arrive from a nearby tavern window, the stocky half orc's eyes narrow as each individual arrives... Heh. Right motley crew. Fit right in won't ye Kaul. Kaul's twisted mouth twists further into what could be a smile and he throws a few coppers into his empty mug, and nonchalantly wanders out to meet his fellow crew...
Kaul walks towards the assembling group with a nonchalant air of violence that only a heavily armed, heavily scarred half orc brings.
His hands outstretched to show he bears no weapons Kaul approaches. Although while he bears none, he does carry plenty: over his brawny shoulder swings a large blade, a quiver of javelins jostle by his hip, and at his belt a press-gangers sap...
Smiling his gargoyles grimace Kaul, eyes the group, nodding in the direction of the Groom; Evenin’ gents. Nice night for it eh? Name’s Kaul but folks around here know me as “Keelhaul”... (gesturing to his scarred face and body) ... fer good reason. The half orc’s voice has an easy if mumbling quality.
Opening a small leather pouch he scoops out some tobacco and slips it between his misshapen maw. Chew? he enquires offering the bag to his fellow loiterers.
After a hopefully expectant pause, Dibbets notices no-one has bent down to shake his hand. He brings it up to his eyes for inspection and raises his eyebrows in surprise before wiping the worst of the dirt off on his shirt.
Turning to Kaul he starts "So we got a hooded bloke who's sweating rivers, a clean jawed Taldan and some berk who looks like he's wedded the Drowner herself. Looks like you and me's the only ones been on the wrong end of the Captain's daughter."
Giving a toothy smile, Dibbets chuckles to himself. "But the fat man did promise some coin, so maybe I should grab meself a box to stand on so we can see eye to eye?"
With an appreciative Hur Kaul grinaces at the weatherbeaten gnome.
looking round the band again Kaul then mumbles Ain't that the shark's tooth. Hur-hur-hur. The half orc's chuckle rumbles as tobacco juice drips from his chin.
Spitting he mutters So the fat man tell any of youse why we're all standing a'rown like lubbers watching a hempen jig?
Jim squats down a bit and takes Dibbets' hand. "Well met, mate. Dibbets...that name sounds familiar...weren't you shipping with old Jake Stormhaul?" He spits into the street, sneering. "I won't dignify that bastard by calling him a captain. Y' have my sympathies, if you were."
In answer to Kaul, Jim shakes his head. "Not a whisper of a clue. There's coin in it for me, all I know."
"Aye, I spent some time bobbing back and forth about 30ft up from Stormhaul. He cast me out when I took a tumble from the nest and shortened me leg by a coupla inches" tapping his left leg with his staff while he talks.
"Pah, I hold no grudges and he put me in with a fair shake of grog money. Got enough barkeeps chasing me for unpaid tabs without makin more enemies. Have you come in from a clipper yerself?"
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the Groom looks over the loiters, but his eyes rest on 'Keelhaul'. "You...the one called Kaul...you have muttered Besmara's name..Do you show her the respect she deserves?"
Kaul's eyes narrow menacingly and he sends a lob of chew spit towards a passing urchin.
The Drowner herself kissed me scars after the Chelexian bastards keelhauled me o'er and o'er. I should o' been chum for the devilfish, but I lived see... so aye I pay her proper respect... if in you mean I thank her everytime I can't feel the lash... proper bless her I do!Hur-hur-hur!
Pointing to the whalebone scrimshaw symbol around his neck he adds: Carry her symbol on me... ain't that respect enough fer ye Groom?
the Groom's head nods. "Wearing it and flying it are easy and cheap. It is good that you know and respect it. Too much in this town is done in Her name with no concern for Her. But she will take what is Hers, but as you and I are proof, she returns the rest to serve her wants.
So it is good that you, the one named Kaul, are here, for a strange tide awaits the endeavor that sails with no respect."
the Groom turns to look down at Dibbets, "You, devotee of wind and wave, we are so different yet on parallel tacks. You are scarred as a child of the elements of wind and wave yet my scar is from, and allegiance is to, She who rides the Wind and commands the Deep. Still, respect is paid to keep away the calms and outrun the gales. the Groom's hat does a slight but noticeable nod.
"Aye, I spent some time bobbing back and forth about 30ft up from Stormhaul. He cast me out when I took a tumble from the nest and shortened me leg by a coupla inches" tapping his left leg with his staff while he talks.
"Pah, I hold no grudges and he put me in with a fair shake of grog money. Got enough barkeeps chasing me for unpaid tabs without makin more enemies. Have you come in from a clipper yerself?"
"Aye, one or three. My last voyage didn't end well...Cap'n Billy Oakleg, gods rest him, was as fine a commander as ever I sailed under, but his bos'n was out of Rahadoum--you know, the atheists? The damned Godsless fool didn't give alms to a priest of the Pirate Queen 'fore the voyage. Never seen such a run of bad luck in my life! Oh, we eventually figured out what'd happened, but by then poor Billy'd had his head stove in when a storm took down the foremast. Tossed the bos'n overboard--so he could apologize to Her in person, you know?--and limped back here. An' wouldn't you know it, fair seas and following winds all the way home. The new cap'n wanted a new crew, though, not that I blame him. So here I am, biding my time until another berth opens up."
the Groom makes a gurgling sound that might have been a chuckle.
"So You of Taldan have also felt the rebuke of the Queen. Has the memory of that day settled in your heart to owe her, her due respect or has it broken on your imperial deck to be washed away through the scuppers?"
Right bunch o' scholars here... talking religion... what's next gents - a touch o' politics? Hur!
Looking around for something to spit upon, Kaul abscently mutters to his fellow loiterers Saying that - nice spot this District... likes of us don't tend to drift this way. Never came near'ere when I ran with Smiler Keefe's pressgang...
"Keelhaul" spits a jet of chew in disgust. Any o' you know Keefe? Mean scragblooded bulwark o' a man... a bad bastard and no mistake...
His scarred brow furrows and he cracks his knuckles in habit.
In a low voice, "I am not here to talk religion...I deal in Respect."
Where "Keelhaul" had spit, the Groom spits out a steady stream of salt water, over a gallon at anyone's estimate. It washes away the tobacco.
He wipes his chin and has a faint smile. "Keefe...a good man there." Again the chuckle is heard.
the Groom turns to look down at Dibbets, "You, devotee of wind and wave, we are so different yet on parallel tacks. You are scarred as a child of the elements of wind and wave yet my scar is from, and allegiance is to, She who rides the Wind and commands the Deep. Still, respect is paid to keep away the calms and outrun the gales. the Groom's hat does a slight but noticeable nod.
Dibbets listens to the Groom attentively, if with a slack-jawed confused look on his face. "Oooooo kaaayy... Aye I pay respect to the Drowner, but I also don't blame the Skylord if I get wet relieving myself upwind. I'd like to believe that Gozreh's got a bit more on is plate than looking out for little ol me"
Your conversation is interrupted by the creak and rumble of a wagon rolling down the street toward you. In the dim illumination provided by a few open windows along the narrow street, you can make out three bulky forms in the wagon behind the horse.
As the wagon pulls to a stop, you recognize the fat red faced man who hired you. He clambers down from the bench and looks your group over with a mean squint. ”Hrmph, I didn’t expect all of you to have the wits to find this place.” He glances at the Groom, ”And I don’t recall even talking to you. Ah well, it’ll be a quick job then and you won’t get paid for a full night’s work, that’s all.”
He beckons to the pair of hulking figures squatting in the wagon. ”Alright you lugs, let’s get to work!” A large half orc and massive human with an ugly scar across his nose drop out of the wagon and pull crowbars from their black long coats.
Addressing the newly arrived gents: "Maybe me memory's a bit fuzzy, but I'm not remembering that ye told us any details on what we're meant to be doin. Care to fill us in? - or should we keep standin in a circle decorating the street?"
Red face looks down at Dibbets, ”I didn’t say. It’s Finn’s business and that’s all you need to know. I was told to hire a few strong backs to clear out this building quick-like and that’s what we’re doing. Obviously you wouldn’t even be here, ya crazy little blighter if it weren’t for Finn’s policies of afurrytim actions!”
Red face looks down at Dibbets, ”I didn’t say. It’s Finn’s business and that’s all you need to know. I was told to hire a few strong backs to clear out this building quick-like and that’s what we’re doing. Obviously you wouldn’t even be here, ya crazy little blighter if it weren’t for Finn’s policies of afurrytim actions!”
"Finn ye say.... I've not heard o' him, but coin is coin." Dibbets says in a rare moment of solemnity with a grim look on his face. "Let your more able friends open the way and we'll head in."
"Can't hurt to have a fine gentleman like Finn knowing we do good work, I'd say" Jim loosens his blade in its sheath. "What are we clearing out of here, rats?"
the Groom will tip his hat and stand aside to let the crowbars get to work. "Greed is good."
"What are we clearing out of here, rats?"
The fat man laughs darkly, "Rats, aye."
Dingus listens to all the blustering with no comment. When the crowbars come out, he makes no move to do any physical labor. He will however make sure to join the group as they enter. Just before going in he whispers a few words, and gestures a bit, as green translucent scales, made up of force cover his exposed (and unexposed) skin
Untrained Knowledge local
Humming quietly to himself, Dibbets waits for an entrance to be made. He also checks his crossbow to make sure it is ready for use when needed.
He then stretches his back, which elicits a series of loud popping cracks. "Aaaaahhh." Before going back to humming and watching the thugs pry off the boards from the door.
Keelhaul eyes Red face and the thugs carefully diserning if he knows them and their words...
Knowledge (Local):
... but with the chatter of his companions he fails to catch their jist. An' in Freeport there ain't no shortage of big, ugly buggers. Me fer one. he muses
Shrugging he looks around at his fellow crew arming themselves and grins Heh. Bolt chuckers an' pretty needles boys... I prefer summit a tad tastier. he unsheathes his heavy steel falchion, notched and wicked looking...
Meet my better half lads: "Bloody Bess"... ain't she bewtiful? Kaul's eyes shine as he strokes the blades edge, all the while wearing his brutal smile.
Jim eyes the half-orc with a slight smile, hastily wiped away as soon as he realizes what he's doing. "Fine piece of steel, Kaul. Wave that around at me, I'd sign on in a heartbeat."
The large half orc gives Keelhaul a slight nod as he approaches the door and joins his scar nosed companion in removing the boards.
With the squeal of nails prised from swollen wood, the planks across the door clatter to the ground and before anyone can touch the door it slowly swings open as if of its own volition. Red face takes a moment to light a pair of cheap lamps and hands one off to Dibbets saying, ”Make yourself useful, why don’t ya.”
Entering the room you are immediately surrounded by the not unpleasant if a bit overwhelming smell of dried herbs. Indeed in the guttering light of the lamps you can see bunches of dried vegetative material hanging everywhere. The left side of the room is a bit clearer and you can make out shelves full of glass jars and bottles reflecting in the lamplight. A desk squats in the near corner and the opposite wall has a door about 15 feet away. To your right the inverted scrubland of dead plants thickens and you see several barrels and sacks in the near corner with the room continuing around a corner.
Returning the burly half orc's nod with one of his own, Kaul steps into the doorway and peers around cautious like; tilting his head and licking at the air as he does:
Perception:
The others can hear his low mumbling whisper towards the blade he holds; "So Bess... are ye hungry girl? Know I is... Maybe we find summin fer ye tae bite eh?"
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Shaking his head, Dibbets blows out the lantern and puts it in the cart. Closing his eyes and mumbling something to himself for a few moments, he blows on the end of his quarterstaff and it starts warmly glowing with light . He then waits alongside the door opening until at least one more has gone inside before following.
James murmurs to Kaul, just loudly enough so that a few of the others can hear him, "I got no problem if you take her to bed, but I don't care to know the details." His voice and face are a comically exaggerated mask of concern, empty of malice.
At Jim's comment Kaul pauses... scarred eyebrows momentarily dropping to a scowl... as his cleft mouth splits to a ugly grin.
"Hur. Good un. Hur-hur." he mumbles and returns to scouring the room...
The red faced man looks around in disgust. “Just a bunch of dried poseys.”
Turning to Kaul he says curtly, “Put that blade away. You’re going to need both hands to carry some of this junk out of here. Why don’t you lot start upstairs and we’ll look around down here. Drag down the furniture or anything of value. Stairs should be through the kitchen over there if this house has the same layout as the rest of this block.” He points around the corner to the right.
He motions Jim close for a moment and whispers something:
Perception:
He goes through the kitchen towards where Fat Red said the stairs were looking around as he goes. When he passes Fat Red he mutters to him
If he doesn't spy anything interesting, he'll head up the stairs as well.
Dingus goes to work silently picking things up and shaking them with mage hand, and using detect magic frequently.
perception
Jim nods once, then heads upstairs. As soon as he's facing away from the fat man, he not-quite smiles, thinking to himself Lubbers...just 'cause I never lost the Navy habit, they think I'm not like my mates here. Useful, that.
the Groom heads to the stairs muttering "No man puts a limit on another man's greed."
The red faced man frowns and watches Dibbets with narrowed eyes. The light of Dibbets’ staff reveals a 15 x 20 foot room that serves as the kitchen. A nearby table holds a plate of faintly foul smelling food. Several chopping knives are scattered about and a line of pots hang on the wall above the table. The far right corner is the hearth and a sizeable copper cauldron rests in a pile of ashes. Stairs leading up and back toward the front of the building begin in the far left corner.
Madman Jim mounts the stairs with the Groom close behind. At the top of the stairs, the door stands ajar and a dim glow comes from beyond.
Spellcraft
Kitchen Perception:
Giving Fat Red a toothy grin, Dibbets sniffs the air a couple of times before following the two men up the stairs.
Looking toward the glow and the open door, "Bit of a glow like an Angler there, don't know any dried flowers that glow like that. Lets find out what horror awaits us."
The door creaks open to reveal a 30 foot wide by 25 foot deep room. In the corner nearest the door is an unmade bed with an old dress lying across it. The dim light comes from small table next to the bed. Upon the table a human skull rests with an eerie red glow radiating from its eye sockets. A pair of large trunks and a writing table fill out the room’s contents. An ornate Qadiran carpet covers the floor and the windows of the room are swathed in thick curtains tightly drawn.
Bedroom Perception:
Dibbets peers between Jim and the Groom into the room. At the sight of the glowing skull he grips his holy symbol and spits to the side.
Kaul narrows his eyes peering around the kitchen as he lumbers towards the stairs;
Kitchen Perception:
Distracted by the fat man's fishwife mutterings he grunts and climbs the stairs, reluctantly sheathing "Bess" as he goes.
Wandering up behind Gibbets he peers over the gnome into the room, clocking the eerie skull immediately
Bedroom Perception:
Stopping his sheathing of "Bess" mid-scabbard he draws her again... muttering to his cleaver as he does Looks an' smells like bad ju-ju Bess... Sack tha fatman an' his skelpt arse o' a face. It be teeth bearing time lass...