Liamae giggles. "It's time to start enjoying the finer things in life, Roger. You're on a marquis's payroll now!"
Iagon sniffs at the mysterious liquid, then follows Liamae's example. However, being a much less cultured or experienced individual, he coughs and sputters, his eyes watering and cheeks turning red. After a few moments, he chokes out. Yes...smooth...
After chasing it with some of his bread, he regains his composure and nods. To the Shipyards then; let us find somewhere - preferably safe - to spend the evening.
"We should uh...definitely stick together for the night. This city definitely gets way sketchier when it's dark out." He nods to Liamae. "Also, bring that bottle."
"I wouldn't dream of leaving it behind, darling!"
Kytes finished the pepper he was snacking on. After a moment's consideration, he decides there's nothing wrong with indulging in a second. Plucking it off the bushel, he begins munching again. Despite not participating in whatever mysterious beverage Liamae had procured, he felt a strong sense of camaraderie. He appreciated Iagon's help from earlier, and everyone seemed to be getting along well.
He continues snacking and beaming silently, happy to have found friends.
As you make your way to the Shipyards, Malryk suddenly departs from the group, saying something along the lines of, ”I’ll catch up with you all later, yes?”
The Shipyards are a frenzy of activity compared to the rest of town. The Imperial Naval presence and the shipbuilding industry are surely the bread and butter of Cassomir. The hustle and bustle here, along with the sounds of industry, are in a way energizing. Fish stand barkers hawk what remains of the morning catch with gulls circling above, waiting for a chance for a free dinner. Barges are being loaded and unloaded of goods coming in and out, naval frigates stand tall and proud in the harbor, while sailors and longshoremen gamble away their earnings with cards and dice on the piers. Panhandlers, buskers, and hookers alike compete for the right to work a street corner. Other, more shifty, figures lurk and linger in the shadows of doorways and back alleys. The occasional constable stands idly by, pretending not to see the things he sees. The sweet fragrance of the Blackwood tar refineries fills the air, mixing with the briny odor emanating from the harbor. Already, in the early evening, drunkards lean on each other as they make their way to the next tavern over, singing songs from the glory days of their youth.
A drunk fisherman with his pole and days catch stumbles about and bumps into Roger, almost tripping over him. He spills his bucket of sardines which dumps fishy seawater all over Roger. He rears back and starts flinging insults and vulgarities in your direction as seabirds suddenly swarm in a frenzy around you all, trying to get at the spilled fish.
Iagon warily eyes the common folk of the Shipyards as they approach. Though he'd been in the town for some time now, Iagon had been fairly sheltered in his young life, and as such hadn't been in a situation in which he'd have to actually conduct business with this element. The thought had a dangerous edge that was both frightening and exciting.
Unfortunately, his wandering eyes weren't on the fisherman until well after Roger is doused in a vile concoction. Iagon rushes forward with his hands up in a placating effort. Whoa, whoa sir! Now, that's not necessary, is it? Accidents happen; we'll just be moving along. He looks to Roger and rolls his eyes slightly, hoping to pass off the event as something short of an affront. Being that the group had been in a generally good mood, he wasn't sure how they'd deal with something like this. Beyond that, he wasn't sure how the Marquis would feel about his new employees roughing up some drunks in the street.
Roger sighs deeply, wiping the muck off his brow. "Just...just ignore him. Let's just get out of this craphole of a city." He shakes his head. "It's just a Cassomir farewell, I guess. I feel the same way about it..."
Liamae frowns when Roger gets doused with fish. Secretly, she's grateful it didn't happen to her!
"We'll get you a bath when we find an inn, Roger. And tomorrow, we'll be out in the wilds, with fresh air and sunshine!"
Kytes had seen enough of the city today that the Shipyards didn't exactly overwhelm him, but he did find himself somewhat entranced. This part of the city felt... He couldn't find the word, but he was thinking something akin to denser.
He felt a certain kinship to the denizens of the Shipyards, despite it still being a world quite foreign to him. These were people of similar humble beginnings as he, just hailing for a different walk of life.
The swearing fisherman snapped Kytes out of his reverie.
"Oh no, Roger. You're soaked!"
Iagon was already trying to calm the man, and Kytes had the inkling that was a job best left to a single person, lest the fisherman feel under attack. Instead he looks to Eir, indicating to her a desire to help the man by scaring off the gulls coming for his precious fish.
With a screech, Eir joins the fracas, attempting to intimidate the the seabirds away from the easy meal.
Passersby begin to stop and gawk at the commotion. A couple of young women point and laugh at Roger, and a few of the more rowdy folk begin egging the drunk fisherman on, trying to stir up the spectacle for their own entertainment.
Perhaps riled up by the crowd, the fisherman stumbles up to Iagon, the only one who’s addressed him, and pokes him in the chest, ”Oy, wheres yer think yer goin’?” His breath and teeth are both stained heavily by the wine he’s been drinking all day, the empty bottle still in his hand. ”Yer not goin’ nowheres, seein’ as how yer spilled me fishes and all. Thas me livin’. And now yer bird be eatin’ it roight up. Ignorant fools, the lot of ya. I be demandin’ retribution, thas wot.”
Iagon puts his hands up in front of him as if being the victim of a hold up at the end of a crossbow. Now, I'm not so sure about that my friend; it seems to me that you spilled your own bucket, and my friend was merely in the wrong place to have the contents dumped onto him.
He shakes his head slightly, blinks heavily and lets out a sigh, quite sure that this fellow was beyond logic. Sir, I'm certainly not blind to your plight, even though I think it was merely an accident on your part. Can I ask what you think this retribution would be worth?
Seeing Iagon's less than tactful approach, Liamae steps in to help smooth things over.
"Sir, we apologize most profusely for the loss of your daily catch. Truly, we sympathize with your plight, and are more than willing to recompense you for the cost of the fish, plus a little extra for emotional damages."
She bows to the fisherman, a little lower than necessary to give him a good look down the front of her billowing shirt. Showing a little skin never hurts when it comes to negotiating!
Iagon’s Attempts to placate the drunk only rather seem to further enrage him.
”My fault!? Yer lil filthy urchin can’t watch where he goin’ and it’s my fault?” He sways back and forth as he points at himself incredulously, spittle flying from his lips.
It seems the situation is on the verge of escalation when Liamae steps in. The fisherman stops his rant cold and stands silent for a second, not at all trying to be subtle with his male gaze. He looks at Iagon with a wink, ”See, now thas how you talk to a person,” before listing over towards Liamae.
”Aye missy, deep, deep, DEEP emotional damages. Thas one gold fer tha fish ya done spilled, an one more fer the damages, or I don’ suppose you’d be willin’ to spend tha evenin’ wit me, help me forget all me damages.”
Iagon sighs and hangs his head a bit. There you go again, Iagon, thinking you can solve everything. Next time, I'll leave such things for those with a bit more couth. Iagon swallows his pride and steps back from the man as Liamae regains control. He seethes at the man's continued disrespect, but maintains his outward calm...he thinks.
"Sadly, I must decline your tempting proposition," Liamae says, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She counts out two gold coins and hands them to the fisherman. "There you are, good sir. Please try to enjoy the remainder of your evening!"
The matter settled, she turns back to her companions. "Shall we?"
As the situation de-escalates, Kytes calls Eir out of the scuffle with the sea birds.
The situation all moved a bit too fast for Kytes, but Liamae seemed to have succeeded in dousing the fisherman's inebriated rage, to the young paladin's relief.
When Liamae suggests they continue on their way, Kytes nods enthusiastically.
Roger walks quietly for a few minutes, lost in thought. When he finally speaks up, it's surprisingly quiet and not at all filled with confidence like it is normally. "Thanks, guys. Means a lot that you'd stick up for me like that."
As Eir returns to Kytes’ shoulder, the few gulls she happened to scare off quickly return and make off with the the spilled sardines flopping around the cobblestone.
The drunkard scoffs at Liamae, his high hopes swiftly dashed, ”Aye, I get ya missy. Perhaps I be forget’n’ me damages elsewhere.” With that, he swipes the two gold pieces from the elve’s palm, picks up his bucket and pole, and stumbles off towards the nearest tavern.
There’s an audible sigh and groan from the small crowd that has gathered around you, as it seems there will be no further entertainment. As they disperse, and you begin to depart, through the crowd and out of the corner of his eye, Iagon catches glimpse of a face he has sworn never to forget. A scar like that can only belong to Rakim, the river captain. Just as soon as he sees the man, Iagon loses him in the shuffling crowd.
The sun is beginning to set; the yellows, oranges, and reds in the sky reflecting off the brackish, black waters of the harbor in dazzling patterns. As the group looks around for a warm meal and bed, a few places look available.
The Seasick Sailor
Where the drunken fisherman stumbled off to, this shady dive looks to live up to its name. Cheap lodging is available in the form of a common room, where a couple of silver pieces reserves you a spot on the filthy floor.
Last Call
Everyone’s trying to get one more drink down in this dingy hole in the wall. Five silver reserves you space in the attic hostel, pillow and blanket included.
Siren’s Song
A few lovely strumpets and gigolos hang about the door to this bordello, trying to attract your business. Five gold gets you a private room for the night, five more buys you some companionship.
The Golden Barnicle
This landmark of the Shipyards is actually built upon an oversized barge floating just off the docks. A large two storied casino and cabaret offers lodging and entertainment for locals and wayfarers alike. A wide and sturdy gangplank provides access to the barge from the pier. Private rooms and suites are available.
"So... Golden Barnacle, anyone?" Liamae suggests.
Iagon studies the crowd for a few seconds, then realizes that he's being more than a bit suspicious. With a wince, he turns away and lowers his eyes. No matter where I go here in the Shipyards, there's a good chance he'll be there... He nods to Liamae. Sounds good to me! With that, he begins walking towards the gangplank rather swiftly, hoping that his new companions follow. Just gotta' get out of this crowd.
Completely at the mercy of the more worldly party members to select a place for the night, Kytes agrees to Liamae's suggestion with an appreciative smile. Silently, though, he hoped he had the gold to afford lodgings in an establishment in line with her tastes!
"Liamae, you should go in first-the rest of us wait like three minutes and by the time we get in, you'll have enough free drinks for all of us!" Roger quips with a grin, clearly kidding.
"You'd better not wait too long, or I just might drink all of them before you come in!" the elf replies with a laugh.
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Liamae leads the way and enters The Golden Barnicle through a pair of heavy wooden doors. She is met by a festive scene. A band of musicians have set themselves up in the corner, two human guitarists back up a halfling vocalist, who stomps his feet and serenades an attractive dark-haired woman in a flowing skirt as she dances around tables playing the castanets. His song is melodious, yet mournful and haunting. The pain and hurt of longing for someone out of reach taints his voice. He sings the story of a great black dragon who takes human form and falls for a Taldan maiden. The dragon reveals himself and takes the maiden to his kingdom in the great forest, where he keeps her hidden. The maiden is allowed to walk along the riverbank once every full moon. The forest itself watches her during these isolated walks, and likewise falls for her and claims her as its own. A great battle ensues between the great wyrm and the erlking. Distraught over the destruction her beauty has sparked, the maiden drowns herself in the river and continues to haunt it to this day. Whenever a boatman hears her cries and mad wailing, he too is driven to surrender his soul to the swirling green waters of the Verduran Fork. It is said the riverbottom is lined with the bones of all the lives the Rusalka has claimed.
The bottom floor is a great open room arranged into a gambling and a dining section. The place is well lit; the walls are lined with a high shelf filled with oil lamps, and a great crystal chandelier hangs over the gambling and dining tables. The wooden walls bear the same aged and weathered look as an old but still functioning frigate, and the circular windows resemble portholes looking out onto the evening harbor. Great red rugs cover the floor, worn from years of foot traffic. A long bar of polished darkwood runs along the back, behind which lies the kitchen. A staircase at the far end leads up to the guest rooms.
The place is lively with patrons, but not crowded; a few tables remain empty. A pair of barmaids hustle back and forth between front and back of house, carrying trays full of drinks and food, and bussing down tables. From the smells emanating from the kitchen and from the looks of the leftovers on the occupied tables, seafood is on the menu.
But, before she can get very far, Liamae is stopped by a burly man, one hand held up, the other resting on the pommel of a short sword hanging sheathed on his hip. ”’Old on there miss. This is a fine establishment, can’t be havin’ just anyone waltz right in. You ‘ere fer a room?”
"Of course, my good man. Two rooms, in fact, as well as some refreshments and entertainment. And we've got the coin to pay for it all." The elf jingles her coin purse for emphasis.
Iagon stands back, happy to watch Laimae use her considerably greater skill with people to arrange the night's lodging. He surveys the gathered crowd as he does, looking for any potential trouble.
The door guard waves over a very well dressed man currently in conversation with a table full of bearded nobles. The man approaches with a comfortably practiced smile. He looks at you all with a raised eyebrow, then sees Liamae’s coinpurse, ”Ah yes, welcome to The Golden Barnicle. I am Llano, the proprietor. We have rooms available upstairs. Please, right this way.”
With a sweeping gesture of his hand, Llano leads you through the main room and up the back stairs. As you pass through the room, Iagon gets a good look at the other guests. The table of gambling nobles stands out; other than Llano and the door guard, they’re the only ones visibly armed, their long swords lean against the table. The barmaids seem to be giving them priority service, and the dancer twirls by their table often, a coin is flicked in her direction each time she does.
The only others that stands out from the mostly normal crowd is a raucous group in the far corner, comprised of a bald halfling and a pair of human thugs. The barmaids seem to be avoiding them as much as possible.
Up the stairs, Llano unlocks a door into a large, elegantly furnished room, ”I have the Jackpot Suite here available, two adjoining bedrooms off to the side, plenty of accommodation for the four of you. Or...” he points down the hallway, ”A few private rooms still available for the night.”
Of all the many instances Kytes felt out of place through the course of the day, The Golden Barnacle took the cake. Kytes wasn't the sharpest sickle in the shed, but he was certain he'd never have made it through the front door with Liamae and her coin. He was glad to be acquainted with someone so adept at moving through a world so foreign to him.
Noticing Iagon was quite alert, he quietly inquires: "Is there something I'm missing? You seem worried."
"The Jackpot Suite sounds lovely, Llano. How much for it?"
Assuming the price isn't ridiculous, Liamae will hand over the coins to pay for it.
Iagon scans the room with interest and attempts to keep his mind from drifting too much in the very unfamiliar environment. This was far from what he had grown up with - life the wild with sometimes a several day stretch during which he'd see no one but his own family. He turns slightly to speak to Kytes, though trying to keep his gaze alert.
Wha? Oh, sorry...yes. Well, to be honest, this is a bit of an odd place to me, and I'm not as familiar with it as I'd like to be. He eyes the gambling table and shakes his head slightly. Some have more coin that they need, that's for certain. There's a group in the corner there that seems like it may be trouble; we should all stay wary, no matter how showy this place seems to be.
It’s 10 gold for the suite or 2 for each individual room. Once you pay, Llano hands you a key, ”Keep your weapons, implements, and uh... pets... locked and secure in your rooms before returning to the dining room, please. We don’t want any trouble here. It’s always a mess when a constable has to show up. Too many palms in this town to grease. Your meal is included with your board, but you pay for your drink. Margot’s made her special chowder tonight, we also have baked flounder and steamed mussels on the menu. Not to mention, a new delivery of Ridonport Brown Ale came in today.”
He then sniffs the air and takes a look at Roger, ”My apologies sir, but we don’t offer bath services here.”
Iagon waits for the others to enter the suite, then nods to Liamae. Thanks for taking care of that; it seems that you've a bit of a silver tongue when dealing with these people. You certainly have my vote to be our diplomat for tonight....I can only imagine that I'll step over my own tongue and make a fool of myself at some point. He smiles and gives her his portion of the room.
He sets down his weapons and meager gear, then looks at it, contemplating. He didn't have much, save for the most basic survival goods, but couldn't help but wonder if the gear would be safe there in the room. With a shrug, he tucks his dagger in his pack and leans his staff up against the wall. He takes his waist pouch with teas, deciding that those are really the only thing of worth he had to take save for his gold, which was about equal to his life savings.
Roger ignores the look being shot at him, silently cursing the clumsy fisher as he slips Liamae his share of the rent. "Not a problem, I'm sure you've had worse in here. There are public baths nearby then, I take it? Surely a place this fancy wouldn't expect me to take a dip in the harbor to clean off..."
Llano stands a little more stiffly, ”Of course, there are some baths across from the wharf.” He adds with a practiced smile, ”Enjoy our hospitality folks,” and then dismisses himself with a bow of his head.
Roger turns to the others after Llano leaves and smirks. "I have a sudden urge to break into an empty room and just roll around in the beds..."
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Kytes blinks at his halfling companion. "But Roger, you'd get that fish smell all over their nice beds."
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Roger blinks in surprise, then sighs and just puts his fingers on the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes slowly as if trying to get rid of a headache. "I mean...yeah, you're not wrong there."
Iagon grins at the interaction between his companions and, after Llano walks away turns to the others.
So...should we stay in and play it safe, or should we go downstairs and see what sort of trouble we can get into?
"My dear Iagon, when has safe ever been fun?" Liamae grins as she heads downstairs.
Making your way downstairs, you pull up at the table nearest to the kitchen and the bar. A bubbly, young, blonde barmaid gives you a chipper greeting, ”Hi there folks! The name’s Toddy and I’ll be servin’ you tonight. We’ve got a nice clam chowder as our special. Y’all folks are stayin’ with us so your meal’s free! So, what can I get for y’all?”
Roger quickly casts Prestidigitation on himself, cleaning himself off as best he can. Ugh, I hate cleaning myself with magic...it always makes me smell like lavender afterwards...he thinks to himself.
When he gets to the bar, he rolls his eyes as Toddy mentions the clam chowder. Clearly someone is playing a joke on him today. "Do you have anything that isn't seafood? I'm sure the chowder is delicious but I've just had such bad encounters with it today."
Kytes is eager to socialize but, fearing he may give off the wrong impression or appear loutish, he takes a few minutes to remove his armor and dust himself off a bit. He leaves his gear up in the room, and joins the rest of the group downstairs.
Recalling the free meal, he eagerly orders whatever is on offer.
Liamae slips her dagger into one of her billowing sleeves as she heads downstairs. She sidles up to the bar and surveys the room.
"I'll try the chowder. I don't know how long it will be before I get a chance to eat clams again! I doubt there's many in the woods!"
Iagon grins at Liamae, finding the elf woman's upbeat but worldly attitude to be quite infectious. Eyeing his other companions, he notes that he feels quite a bit more secure in this new environment with such people at his back. Not one to argue about a free meal either, Iagon nods after Kytes' order, indicating that he'll take whatever's on the menu.
When the sever comes about, Iagon can't help but let his curiosity win out. He draws her in close. Pardon me, but those nobles at the gambling tables certainly seem to be fairly well off; are they someone famous? He tries to keep the obvious youth out of his wide eyed question, but feels as if he fails miserably.
“Alrighty, three specials, and I think I saw a pot of red beans and rice and sausage back in the kitchen, I’ll go ask Margot for you hon,” Toddy winks to Roger.
“What’s that?” she’s pulled over to Iagon. “Oh them?” she lowers her voice to just above a whisper, “Well I don’t know about famous, but Llano says they are V I P, which means I gotta be extra nice to them so they spend lotsa money. That one in the red cape, he’s from around here; he’s a viceroy in the navy or something. He likes to come in from time to time and gamble and flirt with the pretty girls.” She giggles, “Not that I expect him to MARRY me or anything! The other two I’ve never seen before. Must be from Oppara or something.”
“Well I’ll go put your orders in, be out in a jiffy,” she addresses the table and then turns on her heel and makes for the kitchen.
Although the bouncer watched you all come back to the main hall, from his post at the door, he’s unable to spot Liamae’s hidden dagger.
After Toddy goes back to the kitchen, there’s a brief lull in the room as the entertainers end one song and dance and prepare for the next. The musicians tune their guitars while the singer orders a drink and the dancer picks up the coins tossed to her off the floor.
Suddenly, a shout breaks this moment of quietude.
“Hey!”
All eyes turn to see the bald halfling in the corner, now standing on his table and pointing across the room at your group. Specifically, he’s pointing at Roger.
By now, Roger should recognize him. This is Tattlin’ Thom, one of Stirge’s lieutenents, who earned his name by ratting out other goons just to get ahead.
“Roger McFarren, yer s’posed ta be dead!” he continues his shouting as he hops down from his table and makes his way over to yours. His street thug friends stand and follow. When they make it to your table, Liamae recognizes them as the two who tried to shake down Ol’ Petey earlier in the day.
They recognize her too. “Hey, that’s the lady shoppin’ in Ol’ Petey’s place,” says one. “Don’t see no body guard this time,” says the other, popping his knuckles.
“Is that right?” pipes in Tattlin’ Thom, “Ol’ Petey had some interestin’ tings ta say when we visited him later. Says he’s got te favor of some Marquis or other. Says he can now get his goods outta Greyguard and pay us back. Ain’t tat interestin’?”
Although most of the crowd have now gone back about their business, this bit of news seems to have caught the attention of the red caped noble, who is now watching your conversation with Thom with interest.
“Gee Roger! how’d you ever get yerself involved with a Marquis and his mistress anyhow? You playin’ a long con?”
Roger sees Thom and his face goes white. No, I was so close...oh, why’d I have to leave my sword upstairs? He looks around at his friends and gulps, hoping they'd figure it out and follow his lead. ”Hey, Tommy! Good to see ya, buddy.” he calls to Thom.
When the other halfling gets close, he drops his voice and hisses to him. ”Keep it down, will ya? Stirge doesn’t want other people knowing I’m alive. We concocted a plan, me and him, that involved getting a direct line to a Marquis for Stirge. I had to fake my own death just to get where I am, and if you go around blabbing like ya normally do, Stirge is going to be so angry if he finds out it’s you who scuppered the whole operation, you hear me? And don’t go talking to him either, this plan is on a strict need to know.”
Iagon's grin fades as soon as the halfling shouts from across the room. Somehow, he'd known it...this was too good to be true - a new job, new friends, steady coin...and now it all came crashing in.
Although he knew that sometimes ruffians like this only knew a response of strength, he respected the cunning in Roger's ruse - even though it was poorly delivered. Not knowing what he could say to assist with what was...at least he thought...a lie, Iagon turns in his chair to face the men. His eyes drift to the well used and worn wooden tables and chairs, even as his minds seeks out the substance of the furniture.
Kytes' face scrunched in concern as the other halfling approached Roger. The young half-orc was certain he was missing something about the situation, but Roger was clearly uncomfortable. Standing up form his seat, Kytes stood alongside Roger and affected the best casual smile he could.
"Hey Roger, is everything all right?" He gestures to the accusatory halfling, "Old friend of yours?"