The sole remaining sailor may not look particularly lively, but he is definitely adept at dodging Jim's clumsy attempts to club him with the flat of his blade. A Watch sergeant steps aboard from the gangplank flanked by six Watchmen, "I said stop that noise!" He motions to one of the guards who quickly steps up to the bell ringer and knocks him unconscious with an efficient blow from his club.
The Sergeant takes a quick breath through his nose savoring the silence, "That's better. Now who is gonna to tell me what in the seven hells is going on here?"
"Thank the skylord ye stopped the bell, it were drivin me bonkers. We're here doin the same as yer good self, seekin tae silence the bell ringin" Dibbets starts in earnest before continuing "We're crewmen on the Pork Barrel an the captain sent us over tae stop the bell so he ken get back tae sleep."
"When we came aboard we we're jumped by the scurvy dogs an had tae fight fer our life." as he finishes he tries to get a read on whether they bought it
Kaul greatfully takes a deep shot o' the healing draught and looks much perkier for it.
Sheathing Bess Kaul nods in the background and tries not to attract attention.
One of the Watchmen asks, "But ain't there nine hells, Sir?"
The sergeant turns to give him a cold look, "You wanna theological debate, boy, or do you wanna do your job and make sure the ship is clear?" Two watchmen immediately break off to check the hold while a third checks the foreward cabin.
The sergeant looks dubious as he listens to Dibbet's story. "Well ain't your lot the model citizens, but somehow I'm not buying it." He looks around at all the dead sailors. What a damn mess. I'm thinking maybe we had a little intership rivalry here and your gang brought it into my jurisdiction. You know what the penalty for murder is, Shorty?"
Kaul bristles at the Sergeant's slight at Dibbs, and lumbers forward;
"Hur. So we ain't who we claim tae be... Flat foot... But we be here on authority higher than you... Hur. Well shorter tae be clear... Hur. Finn's business... so do yer needful then run along like nice little watchdogs savvy?"
:
the Groom moves up the steps onto the deck. He addresses those on deck as if expecting there to be more people here than when he left.
"Ah, the Watch..about time. This is worse than aggressive bell ringing, we have purged this infestation of cultists in Besmara's name. Operating right here in the midst of the Harbor. Below you will find, if you have the stomach for it, the disturbing evidence of their activities. This crew is the unholy result of the cultists' magic...some attempt can be made to identify them, and I image several missing persons can be identified."
He looks about the deck but does not see any yellow robes. "The ship has an unholy stink about it that suggests it is not wise to linger. I would say burn it, but the evil energies this ship would release could be disastrous to the Harbor and the Town. If given several days of peace, I could purge the ship and render it safe although perhaps always cursed. But please, have your men finish your investigation below deck. I am sure the Watch commander would love to hear it from you, of how your squad came across these scum with a small assist from some justice-minded citizens, as opposed to any stories of how this group managed to operate for so long here under the nose of the Watch and it took a ragtag group of lubbers to save the Town."
The sergeant looks a little apprehensive after Kaul’s explanation and glances nervously at Dibbets. He opens his mouth to say something just as the Groom comes up. After the Groom’s bit he looks even less certain. ”Now wait a minute, what does Finn have to do with cultists?”
Before anyone can answer, the watchman returns from the galley looking a bit pale, ”Sir, you’re not going to believe this. It looks like they were eating...people,“ he gags. ”And this cook, “ he rolls over the ghoul in the leather apron, ”he doesn’t even look human anymore.”
THe sergeant groans, ”Aw, hells. A cannibal cult? I thought that ended at the Dead Pelican. If the crowd over there hears about this we’re gonna have another riot.” He points at the Groom. ” You lot keep your mouth shut and kick off right now. We hear a breath about this and we’ll be seeing you again.”
"That is fine officer. The less I relive of what I saw on this boat the better. But..." He sheathes his sword, the Queen Besmara's mark clearly visible on the basket hilt. "..There is the matter of the Queen's Law. If no cannibals come forward to claim their boat. We claim this as a prize for the service rendered to the Town. We can file a claim with the Harbor Master or would you like to take care of that too, as part of your quiet investigation?"
On the wall of the aft cabin, the Groom runs his hand along the wall. The damp wood steams and smokes as the Queen's Mark is burned into its surface as his hand moves slowly down the wall. "Notice of Possession can be sent to the Broken Mug, care of the Groom."
He walks to the gangplank and gives his hat a sodden tug at the brim and a brief nod..."Gentlemen."
He awaits a response or his companions.
Jim pauses to wipe his sword clean before sheathing it, nods politely to the watch, and follows the Groom to the dock. He murmurs an aside to the Groom: "Say, thanks for the timely rescue back there. I don't know what that thing was, but just a touch and I couldn't move." He shakes his head. Things that paralyze with a touch...flying leeches...random conjures...lethal poisonous snakes...serpent men...and the deader. Rather do something safe, like run the Eye in a dinghy.
Down on the dock. Out of earshot of the Guard "It had the look of a ghoul about him. His touch..a touch of the grave..can stop a good man in his boots. But eh, where is the yellower and the deader?" He tugs a bit at his collar, imagining he could still feel the coils of the deader's tongue.
Jim shudders. "Both of them over the side. Kaul had the wog shaking, but then it--not going to say 'he' any more, an' you'll hear why--laid him open with a claw. I tagged it a time or two. First time, no blood showed, though I'd swear my blade sank in a palm's width. Second time, after I struck it the thing fell...and it changed. Looked like some sort of cross 'twixt man and snake, all green scales and fangs. Then the deader grabbed it up, dagger an' all, and jumped overboard. Dingus sniffed out the magic on it, said it was heading for shore before he lost it.
"This stinks of wizardry, it does, an' if I'm not mistaken there's more here than Finn, or even Aspis, thinks."
Dibbets smooths down his rags with a self-important air and then with an impish giggle, tips his non-existent hat to the Sergeant and jauntily limp-stumps past him.
Once out of earshot of the flatfeet "Well that were a close'un mates. But we managed to squirm out like a greased porker escapin an abbatoir. Dunno bout you boys but I'm in need o' hard liquor."
Responding to Jim "There were summat not right there an all. Feckin cannibals and a mix o' deaders that were dead and deaders that weren't quite an that bell ringin all the time like it were tollin our way tae an early grave." Dibbets fishes out one of his flasks for a constitution enhancing liquid boost, before shaking off the gloomy outlook.
"Eh Kaul, ye think ye could stay awake fer our nex rumble? I'll tuck ye in good'n proper tonight so ye get ye beauty sleep....."
"..There is the matter of the Queen's Law. If no cannibals come forward to claim their boat. We claim this as a prize for the service rendered to the Town. We can file a claim with the Harbor Master or would you like to take care of that too, as part of your quiet investigation?"
On the wall of the aft cabin, the Groom runs his hand along the wall. The damp wood steams and smokes as the Queen's Mark is burned into its surface as his hand moves slowly down the wall.
The Sergeant narrows his eyes. "The Queen's Laws are about as welcomed in town as are cults. This ship is now property of the government of Freeport and will likely be auctioned off once this investigation is completed. You are welcome to make your bids with the rest and you'll note that this is a crime scene so I'll thank you not to tamper with the evidence." He looks sourly at the smoldering brand.
the Groom mutters as they walk, "Too bad about the boat, but at least we don't have to clean it. And I can think of a few stories that might drive down the price on the unlucky unicorn, if this knife proves to be worth the trouble we've minded."
"I'm for seeing the bottom of several cups of rum right now. You?"
"Jim, aye rum it is - lets see iffin ye got the legs tae outdrink a wee halflin." then after a few moments "Groomy, how'd ye do down in the hold? - there weren't anythin worth lootin up topsides"
"Drinks are on the wog tonight. A bag of coin, the log Finn was so keen on, navigation equipment, and Dingus has a set of bottled spooks."
"Come on lads, less go back tae the Mug. Im thinkin the bar wench is finally crumblin under me charms" Dibbets proclaims with a wry smile on his face.
Kaul balefully scowls at the Guard as he exits with the rest o' the motley crew.
Upon Dibb's remark he just grins, running his hand over the fresh scars the wog in yellow left him;
"Hur. Aye I'll try and stay afloat Dibbs... Will try an drop more than 5 next time too... all this gang's heavy liftin can be tiring y'know! Hur-hur!
The burly thug winks in jest, but comes out more like a privvy grimace.
"Borken Mug fer me. Salty Dog and some kippage would go down a treat..."
"It's just I worry fer ye, I mean ye had a kip when we first ran inna Beedle, then anuvver when ye first met the wog, an this is the third'un just now." tappin his head meaningfully "Are ye sure everythin in ye head is ship shape?" as he tries on a genuine look of concern. "Me uncle were just like ye a few months afore he...." letting his words trail off and assuming a mournful demeanour.
:
Kaul looks a might quizzical at Dibbs, then like a greedy shark looking fer chum seems to take the bait;
"Errrhurm. Well now ye mention it my noggin has been tender o' late... Drowner's teats... a few months..."
The half orc scowls and rubs his temples
"Hur. Was it... quick like... at the end?"
Sorrow etched into his expressive features and tears welling in his eyes "By the skylords beard I wish I could tell ye it were kind... but it were seein his sufferin that first turned me to drownin meself in drink. He used tae rattle tha winders with his screamin" before sighing.
You make the Broken Mug without any extraordinary occurrences. Your battered appearance draws a few looks and Dagrit asks what you've been into, but most mistake you for members of Morgan Bauman's crew and give you plenty of space. You awake too early to the sounds of the fishing fleet once again.
Can I pull that one off tonight or do I need to wait?
so you want me to describe that or did you want to mess with him?
It'd be swell iffin you can describe it lying on his pillow the next mornin and I'll pick it up from there
Dibbs rises with the sound of the fleet and tears free his face from the congealed mass of drool that had pooled and dried overnight betwixt his beard and the floor. A quick sniff of the nostrils showed he at least managed to not piss himself this time.
An ill-advised attempt to quickly rise brought a fleet of Chelaxian warships sounding off a double broadside within his skull - the swelling headache driving him back to his knees. The slip of a Taldan can sure hold his liquor, an that scarred mass o' Half-Orc flesh must've slipped summat vile intae me drink last night
Blinking vision back into his eyes Dibbets locates his missing boot and stumbles downstairs. A quick opening of the relief valve into the pristine Freeport harbour ensued and he then found a table to lean on while he carefully chewed some bread so as not to anger his aching skull overly.
The early shift at the Broken Mug provide the scantest toast and jam breakfast and seem eager to shoo you on your way so they can prep for lunch and paying customers. Peering outside, the rain hasn't broken yet, an unfortunate effect of the Eye of Abendego which seems to grow and cast off sheets of precipitation that cover the region during the warmer summer months.
Kaul lumbers into the main hall, spots Dibbs and plants himself next to him... His beady eyes are a tad bloodshot and some of the fresh scars on his pretty face seem to have opened a little in the night;
"Hur. Piss poor sleep. One too many Salty Dogs I reckon... we're barkin at me all night hur-hur. Least it dulled the pain... inside and out." (taps his noggin)
He rips into some bread and jam and eyes Dibbs, taking solace that the hobo halfling looks even worse for wear than himself...
How's you this...hur... fine day Dibbs?
the Groom takes a stool at the bar. Unlike his companions, he does not look the worse for wear other than some nastly bruises on the pale skin around his neck.
He cuts a chuck of bread off with his knife and crews gratefully. After a bit, he pulls out small tied off bundles of coins. He places them on the bar and shove two over to Dibitts and Kaul. "Should be 40 odd sails of coin and gems in each. Should be more coming once we turn over the log, but I think we need to get to the Vault first."
While he eats, the Groom will pull out the log and try to determine what interest Finn might have in it. Not able to read the Abyssal portions, he hopes the Unicorn's log at least start off in common. Maybe it all went bad at some point?
If you want to try to figure out the Log.
Murmering something that sounds like a greeting at Kaul, Dibbets hacks a few rough sounding coughs before he pipes up "Top o' tha mornin tae yerself. I aint seein fit tae call her fine yet, but its still gods knows how early"
Dibbets takes the bundle nodding thanks to the Groom. He opens it and removes a sail, laying it on the table - stashing the rest in amongst his rags. He begins idly spinning the sail on the table waiting for the other two mates to show up for breakfast.
Profession Sailor
"These methods of record keeping are so confusing". "In Tian they are much more organized".
Dibbets takes an extended gander at the logs, brow furrowed in concentration
Dibbets takes an extended gander at the logs, brow furrowed in concentration
"Feh, it's all cannibal chant tae me mates." before returning to his seat and looking around for his favourite waitress.
"Mornin' Dingus." the Groom pushes him his coin. "Did you get a look at that book and them spook bottles."
Juju Bottles:
Knowledge: Arcana
"Yes I have heard of them". "They are JuJU bottles, Wendo magic practiced by those savages in the Mwangi Expanse". "These bottles have to do with possession, both real and implied". "The book goes into more detail, but I would have to read it in more depth to learn more". "This is bad magic...but can be useful".
"Well aint that a disturbin way tae go. No poor bastad should be stuck like that fer eternity, we need tae figger a safe way tae let em go" before leaning in close to Kaul "Ye had any more problems with ye noggin since the barney?"
Kaul casts a leery eye first at the ju-ju jar then at the log as Dibbets leans in;
:
then grumbles at his lack of education...
He asides to Dibbs in a low murmer:
"Heads a big topsy this morn. Dunno if its the grog or summit else..."
He rubs his forehead roughly...
"Never tend tae feel much up here anyways... dull like... reckon I'm still thinkin straight tho...hur."
"Aye I hope, I mean I'm sure its the grog..." giving Kaul a clasp on the arm and looking into his eyes with the face of a commander sending off a bright young officer towards a forlorn hope.
"Well while we're waitin on tha appearance o' the Madman, whats our first port o' call today lads?"
Kaul cautiously pulls his arm away - convinced Dibbs could tell him more... Need tae speak with the Groom... he got licked too... see if his head is flotsam...
Hur. Finn with the log? Kaul keeps his voice down whilst mentioning the half-pint crimelord.
"The Vault. Before Finn. Don't necessarily want to trust him with the prize of our hard work."
One of the waitresses approaches, unfortunately not Dibbet's favorite barmaid as she comes in for the evening shift. "Where's the other one? Still sleeping? Well, he missed his breakfast then. Go wake him up and be on your way. We have cleaning to do here." She frowns at the hail of bread crumbs falling from Dibbet's face.
As if on cue, Jim stumbles up from below, yawning. "Good morning to y--" He stops with a somewhat sheepish grin and pulls the makeshift plugs out of his ears. "That's better. I was wondering why it was so quiet this morning--or are we into the afternoon watch yet?" He smiles expectantly at the waitress, but his face falls a bit when it's clear no more food is available. "Ah, well. I'll collect a bit on our way."
"I can't read a blessed word of this thing, but if it's laid out according to current Taldan and Chelaxian usage it's fairly new. There're sketches in here early on that put me in mind of Corentyn, as though that was where he was starting from, and it's possible that her last port of call before Freeport was Eleder."
"Good place to pick up some bad JuJu."
After Jim's bit of reckoning suggesting that the current travels of the Unicorn are only recorded from the port of Corentyn in Cheliax- possibly on its way out of the Inner Sea through the Arches of Aroden and onto the lost colony of Sargava, the party heads out into the rainy morning.
It appears you may not have much of a choice as far as destination for you are immediately intercepted stepping off the pier by a group of five short figures who have been waiting for you on the street. Most noticeable in the gray drizzle is a gnome sporting bright vermillion hair slicked back in a pony tail. His long eyebrows droop at the ends in the damp. The others flanking him include a trio of short wiry humans and a halfling. All are clad in oiled cloaks to keep the rain off and from their confident demeanor are no novices with the blades at their belts.
The gnome greets you with a cold smile, ”Good morning, we’ve heard your little endeavor last night was…successful …more or less. Mr. Finn is quite interested in what you have for him and he’s not one to be kept waiting.”