As the heat of the day begins to build and the crew sweat out the remainder of the cheap booze, their heads clear enough to think and ache. Jim lifts his arm as high as he can at the moment to hail a rickshaw or cart while the others cluster around the barrel keeping the market crowds a safe distance back with glowers and unspoken threats.
Jim glances around and catches the eye of a tall figure in black great cloak and a rapacious smile half buried in a bushy beard. The figure limps over parting the crowd and boisterously grabs Jim's hand. "Ho Mates, tell Father Peg-Leg where you bastards been!"
Madman Jim answers the smile with a grin of his own. "Good to see you this side of Seawraith's crew, Father! We've had an adventure or two, from Suck-You-Bye Island to Plumetown, though maybe this isn't the best place to speak of it. We also have a...Benevolent fellow, and you take my meaning, to talk to sharpish, 'fore he can get a jaundiced view of what we may or may not have had to do with the loss of his ship."
"Well met Padre. As Jim tells it, we have a tale fit for our Queen's dining table. I hope to be by later with a donation and some bottles and story or two, but right now, news of the streets might see us better navigate Freeport's shoals that have shifted since we left. "
Kaul arrives late to the party having stopped to administer threats and slaps to any longshoreman willing to step up to his challenge.
"Ahoy lads... sorry I'm late... needed doin' after those basterds got cheeky like..."
Kaul shows up with a shiner after getting into a brawl with several union brothers. Peg-Leg looks amused, but seems to follow Jim's innuendos. "Yea, best not to get on the li'l buggers bad side, but I see the voyage weren't all for naught." He winks and smiles at the barrel. "The Seaside Market would be the place to spend it."
"Well, I've got some preaching to do so I'll be hitting the bars. Stop by when you've got the time. I'll be looking forward to both the bottles and tales, Mate Groom."
Dibbets post hangover headache turns his face prune like and his eyes are barely visible under his bushy eyebrows and with the orbs squinted against the light. He give a halfhearted recognition of the priest, but leaves the speakin to the others.
"Yessss". "We shall converse later". "He brings up a good point". "Do we want to spend any of this now, or put it in the vault and decide later". "I could use a new robe, and perhaps a loin cloth or two"?
Certainly the smells of the street food are nearly overwhelming. The Black Gull serves no food, Mackey says it just gets in the way of drinking. Shark-on-a-stick and gumbo certainly sound pretty good considering that your last meal was chow before you made shore yesterday.
"Food first, mates, then Vault. I don't know about you, but I think better on a full stomach." The Taldan saunters over to a cart for a bowl of gumbo. He glances back at the rest of the Freebooters with a questioning look. "Want some? I'll buy."
Dibbs rubs his scraggly beard with one hand and feels his stomach lurch from one side to another... he's not sure whether with hunger or remnants of the night previous' carousing. "Yeah, why not... I'll try not tae throw it up on ye boots too aye."
Kaul checks out his shiner with pride in a passing window before taking Jim up on his offer of chow;
"Aye... a bowl fer me too Jimmer... make it two... scrap worked up a hunger an no mistake hur-hur!"
"OK". "So lunch, clothes, then the vault".
After a delicious bowl or two of Gumbo, during which Jim nearly drops his breakfast when a fiendish bleat from a nearby goat pen startles him, Dingus is more suitably clad and the the crew rents a cart to finish the journey to the Vault.
Leaving the cart outside the heavy stone and iron doors, the crew enters the small front room where a tall albino elf greets them. Arching a tapered white eyebrow, the elf introduces himself, "Welcome. I am Samarka Joliet. You are wishing to rent a unit?"
Managing to choke down the gumbo and keep it down despite several close calls to the contrary, Dibbs mood begins to improve. Once they make the Vault, he states as an aside "Best one of ye sign fer it mateys... don't want me gettin skunk drunk an lookin tae check out some cash fer more booze."
The Taldan glares at the cacophonous caprine before returning to his long-delayed meal.
Sizing up the rest of the crew, Jim steps up. "Aye, we are. What are the terms?"
Sizing up the rest of the crew, Jim steps up. "Aye, we are. What are the terms?"
Glancing at the barrel, Mr. Joliet quotes the terms, "Our smallest units are 10 sails a month paid in advance. You will get one key which is the only way to access your unit between the hours of sunrise and sunset. We will not store any obviously dangerous items such as explosives or demonic artifacts. Additional magical security can be provided for a price."
Jim starts to count out ten sails from a rather salt-encrusted belt pouch, then stops. "How much for something that'll hold this barrel? And do you guarantee against...nonmagical theft, say?"
"You might need something a little bigger for the barrel... say a 3 by 3 by 6 closet. That will be twice the price. The Vault is quite secure I assure you. We've withstood earthquakes and cannon fire. You have my word that your trust is well founded."
Dibbs hangs near the entrance, preferring to keep his eyes attuned to the light. He keeps a weather eye on passers by more out of boredom than true interest.
The Taldan counts out another ten. "That's for the first month. Come on, mates. Let's get this thing squared away 'fore the rest of our business."
Joliet and a typical hulking half-orc bodyguard guide you through a maze of passages to a door marked 117. The elf produces a key and opens the heavy door to a featureless stone closet a yard deep and wide. He hands you the key and waits for you to secure your barrel before leading you back to the entrance.
"Remember, rent is due by the first of the month and hold onto your key."
Dibbs waits patiently for the longshanks to stow the barrel and ready themselves to move out. "Right-o lads, Finn now eh?" setting to stumping in the direction where they last talked with the man... both looking forward to and dreading a reacquaintance with the dismissive secretary.
Jim straightens his uniform shirt and armor, runs his fingers through his hair to neaten it a little, and nods. "Aye, let's get this over with."
Watching Jim, the Groom doffs his hat and pushes back his slick hat before replacing the weather-beaten wide-brimmed headwear. "Guess it's fitting that we smell the way we do with the tale we have to tell. Might be he is even he is glad to see us if we can make him believe us."
Dead tired and hung over the crew doesn't feel at their best, but figure they'll rest easier once they square things with the halfling crime boss. They trudge back eastward over the noisy docks and pass the Shipping News on their way to the Eastern District.
"Sewer guard on strike! Swan Street Slicer kills again!" A paper boy calls out the headlines as the crew heads toward the carts and stalls of the Field of Honor. Shortly thereafter, the crew reach the shallow steps on the Halfling Benevolent Association.
Taking upon himself to lead the charge, Dibbs moves up the steps and within the association... and patiently waits to be noticed by the prim secretary. Recalling his first encounter with the lass, he is more forward this time "Hullo lassie, we're here tae see Finn. What's left of his investment in tha good ship Finn's Fortune"
Dibbets leads the way through the crowds of small folk that mill about the entrance of the HBA. He is greeted a good morning by a couple as the crew makes their way to the receptionists desk. She smiles at Dibbets though it seems a little forced.
"Yes, please have a seat. I'll let him know." She gestures to a short row of even shorter seats and turns her head away to whisper something.
Straining to hear the lass...
Perception:
...Dibbs prefers to stay standing.
the Groom eyes the small chairs with distain, he remains standing and a little uncomfortable with so many people underfoot.
Dingus eyes the chairs, shrugs his shoulders, and lowers himself into one, making sure to properly cross his legs once seated, and picks up an advertising handbill placed on the table.
With a jingle of mail and a workout for his acrobatics skills, Jim lowers himself into one of the too-small chairs, trying to sit so that he can get up quickly if need be. Might as well give him some amusement; it could put him into a better mood. Ha.
Dingus and Jim look rather ridiculous and uncomfortable sitting in the halfling sized chairs and their legs are getting numb before a familiar reddish haired gnome appears.
Trask smiles cruelly as he greets you, "Ah, I didn't hear anything about the Fortune's return. You can turn over any weapons, etc. to the secretary for safe keeping."
Smiling Dibbs stumps forward "Didnae say it returned lass... jus that we were all that were left." pausing a moment as he has no weapons to turn over "Ye dinnae want tae look under tha kilt didjae?" chuckling as he stumps past the gnome.
the Groom's weapons hit the desk in succession, as he mutters about the group's unholy attraction to fly-away clothes:
Dagger...
Buckler...
Cutlass...
<CLUCK>
Big-Assed Crossbow.
Kaul eyes Trask will a belligerent look, then dumps his weapons on the desk atop The Groom's;
"Hur. I'll be back fer these lass... they've BloodSalt poison all o'er em... so you or the pinches would do well not tae touch... can't be too careful hur-hur"
:
(but not perhaps every weapon...)
:
Jim wordlessly leaves his kukri, bow, a silver dagger, and his rapier on the desk. [i]Wonder if I can call it from another room? Here's hoping I don't have to find out for a while.[/ooc]
<CLUCK>
Big-Assed Crossbow.
Struggling to get out of the undersized chair, Dingus removes all his weapons,then places Richard atop the pile, with a smile.
Dibbets nearly bumps full tilt into a smallish halfling in a conservative suit who turns the corner appearing seemingly from nowhere. The small figure adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses and apologizes profusely.
Trask ignores the scene focusing his attention on the crew and the weapons after casting a cantrip to detect magic. The receptionist, who has been securing the weapons in the vault behind her, shrieks at the viper coiled over Dingus jade dagger and wand. The gnome laughs cruelly signalling the crew onward and not appearing to notice Kaul's sap.
Dibbs smiles and tips his imaginary hat "'Scuse me my man... gotta see a man about a bimmy"
The well dressed halfling smiles mildly at Dibbets. He nods to Trask as the gnome leads the way to Finn's office. Trask knocks and then enters the office.
Finn sits behind his desk and waits until you enter and the door is closed behind you. Besides Trask, four unfriendly looking halflings stand along the wall. Finn looks at each of you shrewdly in turn and the silence grows uncomfortable.
Jim looks expectantly at Dibbets.
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Under the unfriendly gaze of fellow halfings, Dibbets shuffles uneasily. Perhaps now he's thinking the gumbo wasn't the best move as the spiced concoction roils ominously within his gut...
Fort Save:
...and try as he might he can't quite manage to quell the digestive excitement. Building from deep within his gut he clenches down... but can't withhold an especially vile fart as it squeezes through it's tortured portal into the world with a high keening extended preeep!
Delicate and complex aroma adding to already exotic melange of scents that the crew bear, Dibbets bears not a blush and instead looks up with a smile "Mornin gents... apologies fer the indiscretion... but as me mucker always said... better out than in..."
Jim doesn't quite keep from rolling his eyes. "Just tell the tale, mate. No call for anything more."
"Oh, right... ye see it were like..." and Dibbs recounts the treachery of Dallian and their marooning. He keeps the details of their subsequent trip back and the fate of young Half-Hitch decidedly vague... wanting to get a read on Finn before giving too much away.
The silence drags with the crew exchanging looks. Dibbets struggles mightily with some inner turmoil and then releases a noxious cloud. It reaches the four halfling wall flowers first and they look ready to wilt as their faces twist in disgust. Then Trask curses and with a motion and a word disperses the odor.
Finn does not look amused. His frown deepens as he listens to Dibbets' tale. He replies matter-of-factly, "So you've managed to lose both my ship and my chest. Where is my man?"
With careful tone Dibbs grates back "Ye mean Dallian's robbed ye blind, aye? As to tha slip... lost touch wi' 'im in Plumetown..."
At Dibb's keening fart Kaul barely keeps his gruff expression in check
Hur... good 'un...
At the mention of Half Inch Kaul inwardly bristles, then smiles like a jigsaw shark;
"Yer man had a hand in the treachery like... we tried tae bring him back fer... retreebution like, but he's a slippery one..."
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