Hitching up his kilt and rubbing his hands together "Roight lads... tonight... get munted... tomorrer... off tae Bloodycove."
Jim's off to a decent brothel, and will also be giving some consideration to shopping on the morrow.
the Groom escorts you to the door where the rain yet pours onto the grounds of the palace. "Sorry, mates. Won't be joining you this time. I'll be working with Roberts to hook some of the local Aspis spies. There's still missing Mother Lorelie to look into as well and Roberts had word on Red Aesha- seems she's taken the stone to attack her kin up at the Mordant Spire in the north, but will likely return at some point. I aim to be waiting when that happens."
*******
After a night of truly breathtaking debauchery, the crew awakes bleary eyed some time after noon to prepare for their journey.
The Groom's admission hits Dibbets square in the face like buckshot and he staggers backwards slightly. His brow furrows and his mouth opens and closes like a catflap during a storm... but no sound issues for a span of seconds. Corners of his eyes misting Dibbs manages a cough before stumbling "Oh... aye... orright Groomy... watch out fer that Sister Gwyllie... keep in touch...."
That night is strangely subdued by Dibbets standards... I mean sure there was public nudity, bawdy songs, enough gin to get a stone giant drunk and an unfortunate accident involing urination while perambulating... but it was as though something was missing.
**********
Dibbets peels himself out of the incredibly comfortable bed he'd made of the floorboards and uses his tried and true bathing method of just dumping ice cold water over his noggin and hoping the worst of the grime sloughed off himself without too much effort.
To the mates he mechanically works his way through sausage, neeps and tatties as he speaks "I'ma off tae see the gnomey agin... need some more powder fer me sporran. I'll gi' mesel some fancy inkings as well fer tha tatt yer gettin Kauly. Sides fer that, I'm ready fer tha trip eh."
Likewise the usually resolute Kaul does roll with that punch. The thug flips up his eyepatch to face his shipmate in the eye of an emotional storm.
Small dewey trails follow the scar tissue cracks down to his lower lip which quivers a little...
"Who'll pray fer Bess and Mara now Groomy? (sniff-sniff)"
Kaul wipes his nose, then tries a weak grin afore enveloping the soggy prophet in a spine cracking hug;
"Miss ye on the seas mate... Stead as ye go eh? Hur..."
The half orc throws himself into the wild night, afore ending it with several other battered patrons laid out on the cobbles as the thug nurses a empty rum bottle in a melancholy malaise...
Dingus regally address the groom. "It was indeed a pleasure to adventure at your side, and things won't be the same without you". "Thank you for keeping me upright, if not exactly intact...and I have a feeling that the tides of fate will bring our paths together again in the future".
Dingus is a bit melancholy and pouty, and spends the evening in his room with only the company of Richard.
The Taldan is not outwardly as affected as his shipmates, perhaps because of frequent changes in crew in his previous life. Jim shakes the Groom's hand and claps him on the shoulder. "Fair winds and following seas, mate. See you on Seawraith...but preferably sooner, hey?"
The more astute observers, though, might note a trace of moisture in his eye as he turns away. Damn, he's a creepy one...rather have him at my side than a crew of common sailors, though.
The crew still looks green around the gills as they gather before the imposing doors of the Wizards' Guild. Except for Dingus, who merely looks sulky. Powerful glowing runes flicker dangerously across the bronze surface promising harm to any who would force entry. Fortunately, you are expected and the doors swing open at your approach.
Inside is airy atrium, sparsely decorates with two balanced plantings of fig-like trees that reach toward the dimming sky lights above which drizzle rain to the live plants. The tall gray muscular, but blandly featured humanoid guards yet stand where Dingus saw then before. No snooty wizards are seen this time however, only Tarmon and Marcus Roberts greet you.
Dibbets is a mite cheerier after his shopping trip, and stumps along wi' a dry sporran and a sharkskin messenger bag that bears his precious tattooing equipment and discretionary expenses. Grinning and waving, he then hocks up a fat loogie to spit out to the cobbles on the side "Orright, less get this bloody thing underway.... ain't gonna hurt like izzit?"
"...ain't gonna hurt like izzit?"
A small misty shape appears to swab Dibbets' spittle as soon as it hits the floor. Tarmon gives a reassuring smile, "Only a brief disorientation... then you've guessed our mode of transport? Pardon if I was less than forthcoming, some shy away from teleportation- they feel it is unnatural. Also, Captain Roberts bid me to withhold any details until the last moment."
"Aye," agrees Roberts, "the moment Grymes took interest in his actual duties on the Council, I got suspicious. He's always been more concerned about his own pocketbook and that of his fat merchant friends than the welfare of Freeport. I wouldn't put it past him to already be on the Consortium's payroll."
Dibbets sees the misty shape swab away the spit and is left with a sore temptation to see if the same effect would be engendered if he expelled a more yellowish liquid of greater quantity. Such mental ruminations consume his attention for a span before he returns during Roberts' words and nods enthusiastically "Aye... I dinnae trust tha fat bastiches either like."
"Aye... I dinnae trust tha fat bastiches either like."
"He'll be closely watched." Roberts notes. "As for your little trip to Bloodcove, I've a contact I can recommend: Estabo Kellim is a riverboat captain and smuggler. Estabo sometimes works for the Consortium, but is his own man. He keeps tabs on all their activities though."
"The bleachling's main supplier looks to be an alchemist on Freetrade Square. If you have time, maybe you could find out more about the owner, Senzer Relkep. Finally, keep a low profile, but if you do need help, I'm close with the head of House Cartegn. I import all my rum from them. Good stuff. They're an old pirate family that are none too appreciative of the Aspis Consortium's take over of the town."
"Hey don't forget my wand"! Dingus wails. Dingus also invested in two used but sturdy woolen robes, and a new pair of sandals.
"Hey don't forget my wand"!
"Not at all," Tarmon smiles though his long brown beard. "I have something that might interest you, I think. It was sold to me by the same group of adventurers that discovered Black Dog's cave and the serpentfolk ruins beyond. I will sell it to you at cost." Tarmon something green from his robes.
"What"! "This is from the Serpentfolk"? "Yes". "Give it to me". "I mean...thank you how much is it"?
"As long as Grymes doesn't have a chance to warn Dallian before we get to him, hey?"
"As long as Grymes doesn't have a chance to warn Dallian before we get to him, hey?"
"He won't have time," Tarmon smiles with a wink. "Now quickly." You change into the nondescript clothes Roberts has brought and Tarmon freshens up any ill stink left on your armor and gear with a cleaning cantrip. You are ready to go.
Tarmon beckons you to stand in a circle and hold bands.
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Gingerly Dibbets holds his hands up, but can't help muttering "Iffin tha nex steps tae sing kumbaya... I'm out."
Gingerly Dibbets holds his hands up, but can't help muttering "Iffin tha nex steps tae sing kumbaya... I'm out."
Tarmon hears the halfling, "Are you sure? Many feel a bit reassured with a prayer before hand."
Chuckling Dibbets replies "Aye, I'm sure as hell we ain't prayin"
"We're not in it deep enough to start praying yet, hey?"
Kaul grabs a paw of whoever is next to him and offers a hook likewise;
"Hur... Ye puts yer left hook in... hur-hur"
Before breaking into a grumbling laugh.
Tarmon bows his head and with a deep voice begins the incantation. There is a flash and a gut-wrenching sensation. Your eyes are dazzled by dancing lights, but you notice that the faint earthy smell of the Wizards' Guild atrium has been replaced with a pungent overpowering stench of rotting vegetation, stagnant water and piss. This does nothing to help the unsettled condition of your stomach after being magically yanked across the coast of Garund.
For whatever reason, the sudden transition doesn't do much to the Taldan.
Fort:
To his surprise Dibbets' gut begins to rebel against him and his vision swims. Trying to keep things in perspective he grits his teeth and begins to pant heavily.
:
Kaul stifles a dry wretch with a croak, afore alternating between teeth grits and saliva spits.
Fortitude Save
Dingus looking down and concentrating on his new ring, doesn't even notice the trip. He looks up when the odor of the place finally awakens him from his study.
"Wow"! "What is that smell". "It smells great here".
Richard slithers to the ground, and begins to poke around. He likes it here too.
Perhaps not teleporting with a hangover is the secret because Dibbets and Kaul are hit the hardest by the interdimensional travel. Their heads are left spinning and lunch tries to make a reappearance, after some long moments they feel well enough to pay attention to their surroundings.
"You do get used to it eventually," Tarmon notes as you look around in the fading light. You stand at the corner of a tall building constructed of heavy logs. It seems hazardously supported on a boardwalk built upon the manifold knees of the mangrove. The coiled roots below look nothing so much as a vast wooden octopus rising from fetid reddish water a couple fathoms below. The thick dark green leaves obscure much of the town around you.
The high building does seem to occupy an opening that allows a view out to sea where the sun dips a toe into the evening waters. Slightly below you can see a series of boardwalks and floating docks which house a forest of masts far straighter than the twisting mangrove that surrounds you. The ships are only glimpsed at this point from between a row of warehouses that ring the reddish water of the Vanji.
A little nearer is a floating marketplace which must be Free Trade Square. Lights kindle in the myriad shops and you see brightly dressed Bonuwat make up the majority of the population along with some wildly coiffed Bekyar and a good portion of lighter skinned northerners.
Suddenly, a wide beam of light shoots out from the tower above and you realize that you are at the foot of a lighthouse.
Tarmon wrinkles his nose. "The smell is far worse than I remember..." he looks up confirming something. "Ah, looks like they moved the jakes to this side. That's unfortunate."
He leads you around the front to orient you. Pointing to the docks below he picks out a few features. "That's the docks, of course. It's known as Warehouse Row. The impressive building in the middle there is Bloodcove's premiere inn, the Witchlight. That's where most visitors stay and I'd advise you to avoid it- thick with Aspis spies according to Roberts. He recommended the Salt Reaver at the end of Widow's Walk. It's the closest to the Consortium's HQ, but ironically of the least interest to them."
"The only other inn here is the Ten Shrouds which is a bit too close to the Grand Admiral's Castle. Be sure the Consortium is the true power here, but they allow a lifelong appointee from one of the original pirating families to live off extorting the businesses that have been drawn to whatever bits the Consortium tosses their way. The current Grand Admiral is a Barzoni. Their ancestral home is back that way through the trees."
Jim follows the wizard. "Any chance you might be recognized here?"
"Certainly and that's why I won't be staying any longer than it takes to answer a few last questions before I return," the Arch-wizard replies.
Noting the robust stench of pi$$ and rot Kaul chuckles and jabs Dibbs with his hook;
"Hur. Ye'll fit right in 'ere Dibbs... hur-hur..."
"Aye, you an me both nuggety" musing a bit afore asking Tarmon "So tha Salt Reaver it is then... ye know where Kellim goes fer a drink? - or we best tae chase 'im on his ship?"
"What do you figure our best excuse is for being here, should anyone ask? Sailors left behind, or overland travelers? I'm thinking sailors, myself."
Tarmon smiles as he strokes his long brown beard. "Sailors definitely. Bloodcove does draw more than a few looking for opportunity. The Aspis Consortium is always looking for mercenaries to guard its expeditions and outposts."
"Roberts said that Kellim is often found at a tavern called Benbow's Wheelhouse. It's on Corsair's Way on the East side. Again, I'd avoid Warehouse Row and the Witchlight and keep a low profile."
Kaul smirks a mako grin;
"Avoid... hur-hur... How come we should avoid 'em? I ain't one for avoiding like... Avoided on the other hand... hur"
The thug shakes his hook to emphasise
The wizard just raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "Tipping off the Consortium will only make Dallian harder to find. Well, good luck." With that, he walks back around the side of the heavy timber lighthouse and disappears leaving you in the gathering gloom.
"Aye, dinnae worry - we'll keep 'im in line until it's time fer blood." waving away Tarmon as he disappears.
To the lads he muses "Best we pick some diff'rent names eh? Jus in case... I'll be Smollet"
Jim claps Kaul on the shoulder. "And you'll be Bigget, hey? Call me Vors."
Kaul grins;
"Hur. Bigget... I like it. What about Dingus?"
"How about Wu Fang?
"Roight... well nows we're sorted.. how's about Bigget leads tha way in tae tha Salt Reaver and we's gets sichuated"
Having decided on decidedly odd aliases, the crew make their way from Lighthouse Point. The boardwalk appears to be poorly maintained here despite the supposed importance of the lighthouse and rot is obvious beneath the patches of moss that cover the boards.
You pass an intersection that looks to head down toward Warehouse Row before spotting a sign on what looks to be a watch station. You're apparently on Rotten Plank Row and need to go up to the next row which is Corsair Way to find the tavern and inn you're seeking. Dim moonlight filters through the leafy canopy close overhead.
Kaul aka Bigget is leading the way over a rather dodgy path of boards hammered onto a thick upward sloping root when he hears a nearly forgotten voice emanating from his nutsack. "Wha- What is that smell, O Apostle?" The half-orc's darkvision reveals that the long silent coconut idol he carries stirs once again.
Keeping his eyes to the side Smollet prattles on in idle conversation to his mateys to convey some kind of normalcy to those passing. Hanging slightly back from the frontline, he allows Bigget and Vors to lead the way.
"Smells like home..." the wooden idol mutters before fading into senescence once again.
Continuing along, the crew soon reaches the Salt Reaver Inn at the high end of Corsair Way. It's a rather old looking two story structure sagging just a bit on its perch of thick mangrove trunks. You soon find that it is the first inn established in Bloodcove by one of the founding pirate dynasties. In fact, it's named after "Bloody" Luxlor's ship and one of the lesser cousins runs the place for the Luxlor House which is nearby.
Before they enter Bigget whips out the suddenly talkative nut-idol;
"Hur... Smells like 'ome? What you pinin' fer the fronds and palms o' the jungle Tum?"
The burly thug casts a quizzical gaze toward his guiding voice.
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Muttering "If he is punt tha little bastard intae it an spare us 'is burblin" before raising his voice and pointing "Bit o' a fixer upper... but mebbe they'll redeem wi' tha quality o' the rum."
The nut has fallen dumb again, but Kaul is reassured that his pocket god is showing some awareness again. Perhaps a proper offering would help further revive him.
Inside the dilapidated inn, a big black flag emblazoned with a crimson dripping cutlass hangs over the desk. A dusty chandelier lights the room which holds a couple aged couches. The man at the counter looks amiable enough; light skinned and dark eyed with a narrow nose amidst a round face. The middle-aged innkeeper bids you welcome.