"Good night to you, Brother. Next time we'll try to stop by at something other than the Guts watch, hey?"
the Groom catches himself as the chair he had been tipping back in, begins to tip just a little too far. It brings him back to his senses with a snap as his chair rights itself. "I was listening, snakes under the city, jade door. It was just the memory of Besmara in my dreams took me a little of course."
He gets to his feet with the others, "Given the hour, maybe it would be best to give that dream my full attention. Thanks for the council."
As they exit Peg-Leg's nautical abode, Dibbs measures the passage of the moon and has a wee stretch. "I'm lookin tae get intae the Grotto at first light an figger I've puked on meself once tonight and dinnae really feel like anuvver..." mulling his options before shrugging "Guess I'll jus 'ang out on the stoop like then... less someone had a better idea?"
Jim and the Groom look ready to make their way back through the Old City to their waiting beds as Dibbets heads the other direction to crash at the Grotto.
"See you on the morrow, mate."
Dibbs nods and waves away Jim "I'll see iffin the heathens can fix yer brain like too."
Stumping to the Grotto, Dibbs is fully expecting to find it closed up... and if so, was just going to plant his diminuitive arse down on the stoop and wait for daylight.
Dingus follows along blindly, his head filled with visions of a snake empire with him at the head, and end's up wherever the others do for the night.
The three men head back across Freeport and to their waiting beds. Kaul is left dozing on a driftwood pew dimly bathed in the greenish light coming from the altar made of the bones of sea monsters dreaming whatever strange dreams that brings.
Dibbets wearily crosses the Temple District away from the dispersed chants and arguments of the Fool's Market. The imposing presence of the Temple of Knowledge and the high spiked walls of the War Temple loom silently across the square. He hobbles up the weathered stairs of the oldest temple in the district and curls up against the entry arch to catch a few winks before dawn. He wakes to hastening winds that whip the prayer flags and hard raindrops.
Though the entry arch he curls in is hardly conducive to slumber... he's slept in worse spots so Dibbs finds himself succumbing to the dark without much of a struggle. His dreams come quickly and are vivid despite being shortened by the waking wrought by the wind and rain. Fragments of blue figures, red eyes in the dark and the taste of buttered rum fade slowly as he rouses.
Stretching out Dibbs rubs his scraggly beard and pulls back his bedraggled hair. For the first time in a while he notices the wrinkles on his arms and weathering bedded deep within his skin by the constant exposure to the sun. Holding his dark tanned hands before him with knotted knuckles the halfling notices his newest tattoo... the coil of rope around his wrist. Thoughts of Vadim and tsuica and the travails of the last few weeks sink home... and he feels weary.
Sighing his eyes move from his hands down to the cloak of manta ray that is secured around his waist and the kilt of seagrass and sailcloth gifted him when he decided to ride the storm. By all rights he should be dead... smashed against rock or wood, smeared across a cliff or the like... but he wasn't. Twice now he'd ridden the Skylord's greatest gifts and emerged unscathed... well mostly. Taking a knee he hitches the kilt up to get a decent look at the mass of scar tissue that was the present gifted him after he first chanced himself with the maelstrom. Massaging the ugly growth he muses Bearded fecker must have some sort o' plan fer me... bugger me iffin I ken figger it out... but I'm guessin it's summat tae do wi' me mates... Heathens as they may be.
Drawing himself up to the full height of a shade over three feet... albeit with a slight leftward lean due to the bow in his leg he composes his thoughts and stands in the entry arch looking to the winds and rain that are building... wondering, pondering, hungry... and in a mood to see if there's any sense to be found amongst the flower eating, patchouli smelling, half-naked freaks that call themselves faithful of the crotchety bastard that rules the skies.
the Groom takes back to his bunk from the night before, expecting less trouble now that the two involved in earlier incidents are no where to be seen.
He looks forward to a relaxing morning, maybe a good breakfast, followed by Dibbets and Kaul's arrival. He figures to spread a little coin on equipment...maybe some snake repellent. And then look up Dagrit and see about her reclamation.
Before going to bed, Jim makes sure the key is secure. He's already thinking ahead to the upcoming visit to Gozreh's temple (We'll see if any of the priestesses are worth looking at...), a thought that leads him to contemplate the odd spot of debauchery over the next few days. Just have to make sure none of 'em look like Shel. Too bad, she was fine...the way she started out, leastways.... With that, he drifts off to sleep.
He'll likely wake up a couple of times during the night, now that 1) the bed isn't swaying with the waves, and 2) he can't hear Kaul or Dibbets snoring. Something's amiss, here...oh, wait. Landfall, right.
Kaul slumbers soundly, cradling his ax, and deep in the briney bosum of Besmara... save for a point near dawn when he wakes with a start batting at his ear.
The thug's eyes narrow as he scans the area with suspicion, rubbing one caulyflower lug again before making his exit.
Best find the rest o' them swabs... then break fast, then break someone hur...hur...
Afore he leaves 5 sails find their way into the alms bowl fer families o' the drowned.
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Dingus follows the others back to the Inn, yawning in spite of his excitement. Even as tired as he is however he has trouble going to sleep. Though his bunk is warm and comfortable, his mind has trouble resting...And the dreams...if they were dreams.
He was moving in a sinuous pattern, the sounds of scales moving across worn pavement, and the echoing of thousands of hissing cheers an ever present companion to the movement. Richard grown heavy with a life of leisure, lay beside him, his head with it's drooping eyelids heavy on his thigh. He looked around, and saw that he was seated in a gilded palanquin, snakes and unusual snake headed beings a strong theme in the decoration of the device. And the movement was not his, he somehow knew without looking that the palanquin rested atop the back of a huge serpent, which bore him through the streets of this place...wherever it was.
He took in his surroundings, the musky scent of many reptiles filled the air, and the light while dim, still allowed him to see clearly. The streets were filled with thousands of cheering snake men, and alcoves and balconies teamed with a beautiful rainbow of serpents. Then he realized that the hissing cheer was for him. He smiled to himself as his new-found power and respect became evident. Looking down he realized that he clutched the jade dagger firmly in one hand. Feeling somehow that this was the right thing to do he slowly stood, and raised the dagger above his head. The hissing cheer became deafening...Then he made the mistake of looking behind him. Pulled along in a wheeled cage behind him, naked and obviously tortured, was a motley band of pirates...A large Half Orc, cradling the head of a small dirty halfling in his lap...A muscular human with the tattered remnants of a naval uniform still hanging on his tortured body...A tall gaunt man with a black hat and a missing finger...all looking at him with hate in their eyes.
His moment of glory forgotten he recoiled to the back of the palanquin, almost knocking it off balance. Richard hisses in anger at his now disturbed nap.
Then a sudden pain in his head brought stars to his eyes.
He awoke in a slowly brightening room, the window open, and the brisk breeze bringing the smell of a fresh rain overlaying the constant briny smell of the sea, that was so prevalent in Freeport. He rubbed his head, feeling a painful know where he had sit up too quickly and hit his head on a night table...Richard coiled in the corner of the room, looking at him with something resembling fear...His heart beating madly and his body heavy with sweat...and embedded hilt deep in the wall of the room...the dagger.
Dingus tossed off his nightshirt, and his sweat soaked bed-cover, and walked to the window looking out over the waking city.
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Dibbets awakes first in the predawn hours just before the great coral encrusted doors to the Grotto swing open and he is greeted by a pair of acolytes wearing a smile, a whiff of patchouli, and not much else. The forecast for sense today seems as likely as the sun making an appearance in the dark skies above.
Kaul shambles out of the hold of the beached brigantine to spy a trio of saffron robed men juggling lemons and singing about the divinity of citrus in front of the Hall of the Gods as the rain falls down. Again chances of any sense to be found are not good.
Dingus awakes from his strange dreams and goes to the window for air to clear his head. Instead he finds a trash strewn Scurvytown alley where a kneeling woman services a drunken bum against the wall rain slicked wall below. When he retrieves the Jade Fang from the wall, it leaves a blackened furrow that drips venom.
Sometime later, Jim and the Groom awake from their shared room to the sound of rain on the roof. They find a decent breakfast below and head out into the rain on their various errands.
Dibbets looks down upon the acolytes standing tall above him and barks an order at them "Sister Gwyllin or Mother Lorilee - either will do. Run away an' get one o' them..." squinting at the acolyte with the sort of look that an impatient master gets when talking to those beneath him.
A female alcolyte with a rustic appearance, likely a Cabbage Cracker, frowns slightly at the halfling petitioner's tone. "Mother is not present and Sister is currently leading the Tidal Rites. She is very busy as I'm sure you should know. How can we help you?"
Once he's eaten and washed up a bit, Jim will head over to Gozreh's temple.
Upper incisors - B E S S
Lower incisors - M A R A
Dibbets squints at the female acolyte... clearly unwilling to throw himself upon her mercy as a petitioner... affixing her with a displeased gaze he calls upon the gifts of the Sky Lord to clothe his form with air, causing his skate cloak and kelp skirt to lift and fall as the wisps of wind flow over him. His hair and beard swirls with restless intent as he stumps slowly forward towards the lass growling with impatience.
"Perhaps ye didnae hear me lassie... I don't want tae talk tae some farmgirl... I need tae speak wi' Gwyllin... Ye show me tae a place i ken wait in private and when she's done speakin wi' the waters ye tell her that Dibbets Tormenta-Roto is waiting." waiting a few beats for the expected objections to begin to rise before continuing with more fervor.
Gesticulating with forceful intent, Dibbets punctuates his shouted words with bellow like gusts of wind that sweep from his lungs to drive the points home and force the acolyte to concentrate to remain on her feet and behind the oracular halfling a burgeoning fog forms, leaving only Dibbets in the lass' field of vision... three feet and change of resolute intent.
"Then you are better off catching her at her council-"
The acolyte's seaweed wrapped pigtails are swept upward and her protestations end in a shriek at Dibbets' display of blown kilt. The acolytes retreat backward into the large open chamber and toward the central pool where all turn and stare.
A very angry priestess emerges from the pool and makes her way dripping across the mosaic seascapes that decorate the floor. The statuesque skyclad Chelish woman has short dark hair dyed green and her green eyes flash dangerously as she glares down at the windblown halfling.
"What is the meaning of this disruption?"
Dibbets stumps slowly forward and towards the priestess... ignoring the bits that jiggle and bounce appreciatively in the cold of the morning and focusing on the lass' face. He is (likely unfortunately for him) unbowed by the anger and instead replies in a direct fashion, though with a little less vim and vigor than he did at the acolyte...
"I'm here tae speak wi' ye... iffin ye acoloytes had any sense ye would've had time tae put on clothes an finish wi' the water preachin... but jus like last time we were 'ere they ain't much chop." pausing for a few moments while the temper likely rises within Sister Gwyllin's cockles and threatens to be unleashed upon the small one.
Licking his lips and slightly more delicately proceeding "Now ye've two choices 'ere... either beat tha livin sh1te out o' me tae try an make yerself feel better... or ye calm down an' 'ear me out. Think about it first like... this is a one time offer, balance the joy ye'd get outta beatin on a cripple agains the fact that I'd likely be able tae help get the Mother back." hopefully seeing at least a skerrick of doubt on the woman's face...
Sister Gwyllin sighs loudly and calls for her aqua-colored gown. "The rite is finished, I have to get back to the counsel offices."
A look of annoyance is clear on her face as she turns back to the halfling, "Now who are you?"
the Groom walks the morning streets, back to where he had gotten his repeater. In the shop he pulls the massive bow off his back and lays it on the counter. "Except for an occasional quack, she has served me well of late. But with things I have seen, I am looking for a bit of an upgrade."
"Dibbets... not that that means bugger all. An though ye havnae said I'm guessin ye're Gwyllin... but I'll get tae the point. Sea Lord, Sea Pact Ring, an blue buggers wi' big white beards who hang out at the bottom of the sea... and summat Zhaegog said bout 'Green devils cavorting in sea serpent gold and merman blood'. Thass what I'm here tae talk on, iffin yer interested I'd suggest somewhere a wee mite more private like."
The old gnome at the counter of Kolter Clockworks just shakes his head sadly and clucks his tongue as he carefully disassembles and inspects the Groom's weapon.
"Look, son. This is a precision instrument. You have to be more careful with her. You've got sand grit in here and the wood is already warping from salt water. Have you been swimming with the thing?"
He looks up at the Groom readjusting his glasses. "Looks like you just came out of the sea yourself this morning. I suspect it is raining again, huh? Look son, you need something that can take the water obviously. Here, look at this. Newest thing." He retreats to his workroom for a moment and returns with a sleek sealed heavy repeater.
"I just finished this. It works underwater as well as above. Now it doesn't have the distance underwater of course, but it comes with a sealed interchangeable cartridge for underwater bolts and it's magically enhanced! Darnedest thing."
"Now I can't offer you full value for your trade in. It's going to take some work, but your old repeater and say 2500 sails will get you this piece of quality gnomish craftwork."
The acting high priestess just looks at Dibetts like he's mad and shaking her head replies, "Look, I've got to get to my council chambers, we talk as we walk." Without waiting for Dibbets response, she walks out into the storm.
Rolling his eyes at the back of the priestess as she rapidly disappears Dibbs just mumbles "Well I ain't feckin runnin tae keep up" and stumps along behind her at what serves for a steady walking pace to him. It's up to the Sister whether she cares enough to notice as he is easily outpaced by the longshanks...
Noticing the bedraggled figure has fallen behind, the priestess stops to let him catch up. The morning storm has cleared the streets and even the Fool's Market is uncharacteristically quiet besides the wind and rain. As Dibbets catches up to her, she bends her head down and walks at a much reduced rate. "Now speak plainly, I've no time for riddles and wild oracle 'prophecies', true or not."
Hefting his leg about as he speaks Dibbets does exactly that "Your boss is gone, been gone awhile. Summat about merfolk aye? Well seems like the sahuagin are at play agin. Me an me mateys have an interest in that... What do ye know of what Drac got up tae on T’wik Island?"
With a mind for a mouthful of modification Kaul makes first to a tooth puller who won't butcher his gnashers and then to a smithy/artisan skilled enough to craft them (should it be possible)
:
:
Cheers - though it would be apt on a number of levels lol. Thinking either platinum or gold for the thug styling...
Sister Gwyllin's hair sticks damply to her face as she stands in the rain, but strangely, her dress looks totally unaffected by the downpour. She shrugs at Dibbets' question, "Drac? That has nothing to do with Mother's disappearance. Drac was member of a cult called the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. They were going to use the lighthouse to create a hole in the universe and drive everyone in the city insane. Fortunately, he was killed at the last moment and the lighthouse is now capably warded by the Thornbrae family."
"I know Mother Lorelei was investigating the disappearance of the merfolk, but she never cared to share what she found with me. The sea devils were chased from the seas around Freeport soon after Drac was killed. If you know anything further, I'd like to hear it."
By this time, you pass through the walls to the Old City. The guards all snap to attention and greet the council woman as she passes through and back into the rain. The crowds pick up again in the cramped confines of the Old City. Gwyllin pauses once more before reaching the black iron gates of the Sea Lord's Palace which towers over the district. The great gargoyles near the roof five stories up spew waterfalls at each corner of the octagonal fortress.
Kaul finds himself ambling along the rain slick boards of the Docks once again to the Seaside Market where he noted a barber and chirugeon's shop earlier. The crowds along the docks seem little deterred by the foul weather though the canvas pavilions of the market gust and flap in the gales.
He enters a wooden shop properly marked as the office of a gentleman named Tremiir and finds a tall pale elf with a shaved head and multiple earrings dangling from his long tapered ears. The elf smooths his white work frock as he greets his new patron, "Welcome friend, and what services can I provide today?"
Kaul flashes a mako grin at the elf;
"Hur... lookin' tae get me'sel some nice fronts for me teeth like..."
The thug flashes his uneven incisors and taps them to emphasise his point;
"... gold or plattynumb I reckons... uppers and lowers, 8 teeth in all... Iffen I get em made can ye fit em?"
Not paying any attention to those they pass, Dibbs keeps pace verbally even if not by the speed of his legs "Did ye know one o' tha fish folk came here tae warn but ended up in Scurvytown an' strung up fer sport? He brought a Sea Pact ring and wanted tae tell ye 'Sahaugin have returned with steel teeth and shadows from the deep.' Combine that wi' the one eyed cyclops out Plumetown way who purports 'Green devils cavorting in sea serpent gold and merman blood.'... I'd wager the Lorrilee likely's up sh1te creek wivvout a paddle"
"Now ye're not gonna pay much mind tae a cripple like meself... but ye let that ponder a while in yer noggin an' see iffin ye dinnae start feelin a bit o' caution. When ye do, send word fer me at tha Seacat's Folly an I'll be back wi' me mateys fer a right honest chinwag" stopping outside the gates of the palace, and not seeking to follow within.
"One other thing... one o' me mateys ain't as right in tha 'ead as meself... summat broke what when a locust lady tried tae hump 'im tae death. Any o' yer acolytes up tae makin 'is noggin straight agin?"
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Any o' yer acolytes up tae makin 'is noggin straight agin?"[/b]
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The elf smiles and nods knowingly at Kaul, "Ah, very good, very good, Sir. Not all that unusual a request for a tusked gentleman of quality actually. I can even get it made for you with a few easy measurements if you don't mind."
He gets to measuring continuing his soliloquy as he does so. "Now, gold or platinum? Both are very nice. Platinum is the most ductile metal, did you know? That means it can be stretched out, like in a wire. Gold is more malleable, meaning it can be pounded flat. I think I'd recommend gold in this case. Not a huge difference, but platinum would be very expensive and gold would be nicer on the teeth. Just my recommendation mind you."
He finishes his measurements and steps back to look over the half-orc. "It shouldn't be more than a couple days. Two hundred sails for gold, double that for platinum if that's your fancy. I'll have to ask for half the fee up front. I had a fellow named Slick come in for a similar service a few months back, but was a no show. I've still got his tusk cap if you'd like it."
"Now, anything special on the fronts? and would you like a trim on your chops there?"
*******
Dibbets definitely catches Gwyllin's attention with his additional information. "If you have the Sea Pact ring to support your tale then come to my office later and we'll talk. As for healing the mind, Mother may have managed it, but I'm not as powerful in the rituals required. I imagine you'd have to go to the mainland for help. All I can offer is the Chambers Asylum. It's had a rough history, but I hear it's under new ownership after Milton Drac's death."
the Groom's perpetual squint relaxes a bit at the sight of the new BFG. He runs a hand along it, "Aye. It seems I've seen the bottom of hulls more than I have seen topside decks. And they way the dice roll about me, that ain't likely to change."
He pats the weapon, but slings his old bow back into place. "I will need to make a visit to the vault for that kind of coin, maybe scrape up a quick job, but I will be back."
The old gnome nods, chuckling, "You had better be quick about it though. A beauty like this won't stay around long. Oh, and I seem to recall that you were referred by a halfling that put a down payment on a firearm order. If you see him, would you mind telling him his piece is ready."
*******
Finding Jim and the Groom still sleeping, Dingus is soon treading the well worn path to the Temple District through the stormy morning. Soon enough, he is standing before the great Temple of Knowledge. It is an immense classical structure complete with two towers, a bronze dome, and porticoes displaying nearly three dozen statues of illustrious wizards and sages from history. Words of sacred wisdom and learning are carved about the columns and friezes. Disturbing carvings of gargoyles lurk in the recesses.
Dingus enters through the main doors which feature a great book carved above the doorway and an ornate stained glass window featuring the All-Seeing Eye above that. Inside, a short hallway leads to a desk that bars the path into the Great Atrium. Across the cavernous chamber, Dingus can see the twin images of Nethys, one black, one white, both thirty feet tall, flanking a magically lit archway in the center of the far wall.
The young man at the desk sets aside his book and smiles faintly at Dingus as he approaches. After hearing his request, he nods and hands him an application for access to the library. It will require background information, information sought, the purpose of said information, two references, a signed oath that the applicant has no affiliation with the Pathfinder Society, and a small application fee.
Nodding curtly at Gwyllin's words Dibbets closes with "Aye, we'll be seein ye later then. Jus make suren the guards let us in eh?" before sighing as he realises he's got to stump his way back across town to the Grotto to pick up Jimmer before he gets splashed with too much patchouli and free love. Cannae have him gettin in wi' tha heathens too deep. Mebbe we'll check out the arse-eye-lum some time too.
"I see". "This is quiet complicated and involved for a person to gain access". "That is good as it keeps rabble away from those who are truly researchers". "However is it not obvious that I am a true scholar". "Perhaps there is an easier way to gain access".
Dingus begins to sway and move hypnotically as he addresses the acolyte.
Diplomacy.
The acolyte blinks a few times. "Yes. I can see that your research is very important. I'm sure it'll be fine if we just skip the paperwork. Go ahead, Sir."
*******
Dibbets heads back to the Temple District to loiter in the rain until Jim finally shows up late in the morning. the Groom soon tracks them down looking for the Vault key.
INT Check
the Groom nods his greeting, "Dibs, your black power weapon is ready at the Clockworks. Got an upgrade on my bow there as well. Should handle itself underwater better...and knowing what we know, that seems like a good thing. I just need to make a withdrawal at the Vault."
Kaul flashes a toothy grin at the elf and rubs his lantern jaw;
"Hur. Got yersel' a deal mate... Gold it is... B E S S on the uppers an' M A R A below deck is what I'm lookin' fer... An' aye me chops and skull could do with a tidy up like... been all at sea and need tae start lookin' the part o' a dishtingwish gentleman that I be hur-hur-hur..."
As he settles his bulk into the barber's chair his sloping brow furrows a little;
"So this "Slick" character left his tusk cap eh? How much would that set me back..? An' mind the steady hand as ye shave me noggin... Don't want ye ruinin' me good looks hur-hur-hur..."
The pale barber raises his eyebrows, "You want the cap as a souvenir or do you want it installed? That will determine the price."
He lines up his scissors and razors and then feels over Kaul's lumpy head and mug, "Steady hand is right like I'm piloting the shoals into Freeport harbor, Ha! You have returned to port recently then, and how are things beyond those shoals?"
In addition to the glowing arch ahead, sunlight streams down from skylights set into the dome a hundred feet above. Wide wooden staircases lead upward to the overflowing shelves that fill the upper four levels of the temple. Slightly overwhelmed at first, the young Tian sorcerer soon figures out the system and locates the local antiquities room where an abundance of scrolls and books regarding the ancient history of the region. Under the watchful eye of a librarian, Dingus spends a long day poring over heavy tomes.
Long before the Eye of Abendego and the drowned empires of Lirgen and Yamasa, back even before Earthfall nearly wiped out the nascent Azlant and Cyclopes, the serpentfolk empire dominated Golarion. Rising from the Darklands, the serpentfolk subjugated the lesser races and worked strange and powerful magic. They may have continued to rule the world had not the interfering aboleths from the cold ocean depths engineered the early human stock to better serve them and eventually lost control. The flowering Azlant culture grew in power until the upstart humans warred with the serpentfolk empire and turned upon their aboleth masters. The aboleths responded in spiteful fury by calling down the apocalypse known as Earthfall upon all the land races.
The serpentfolk empire never recovered though pockets remain in the Darklands below northern Garund and southern Avistan. The survivors rest and bide their time waiting for an opportunity to reclaim their birthright and rule Golarion once again.