The Half Elf looks up from the meal he is finishing and says "Im Kairon. Im going to tag along as well if there are no objections. I was beginning to wonder if you where coming out.
The small man stretches his neck to nod up at the assembled entrepreneurs. "Largo, shepherd of lost souls. At your service."
"Well met Largo. You can shepherd the souls of our enemies all like, but mine is spoken for. " Says the half elf.
All souls belong to the gods. We are but vessels for their whims. Followed by a set smile. Still, I recognise good souls when I see them. Grigor,dawngreeter of Lethander. Well met.
Ceidith quietly announces his name Ceidith. Pleased to meet you all...... Oh yes, if I die on the adventure to come, please do not let him take my soul He gestures to the halfling and chuckles
The plain-looking human raises a hand. "Ander Meliamne. Herbalist, woodworker, aspiring swordsman, and lightning rod for lunatics' shenanigans. Nice to meet you all."
"Good day to you Guard Sergeant. I am Road Warden Yarroth and I am here to inquire about the lighthouse. We have heard stories that it is out. Is this true? What can we do to help?"
|
The dwarf grunts, "In all honesty, House Sokol is responsible for the keeping the beacon lit. The Black Fist's duty was just to keep them alive to do it."
"Might I ask why keeping them alive has been such a troublesome task that you talk about it as though you were having to empty their chamberpots?"
Insight:
Yarroth waits for the sergeant to answer Ander's question. He is a little put out by the fellow's attitude.
|
|
Guard Sergeant Hurn spits, "That particular job is widely considered to be punishment, if yer stuck with it. Which is why it makes no thrice-damned sense why that fool and his six routinely volunteered..."
When he sees your faces urging him to go on, he sighs and continues, "Fer one, it's bloody cold with the hawk blowin' in off the sea and generally a miserable experience. Second, there ain't no... socializin' over there. It's just you and the Sokol boy that you gotta keep safe. Lastly, some say it's haunted, and if'n that's true, there ain't a sane man alive that would voluntarily take that job, much less volunteer!"
"I think I missed something. Who was routinely volunteering?"
|
|
The dwarf grunts, "Heh, I forget, sometimes that I ain't talkin' to Black Fist. Grim, one of the other Sergeants, and his six guards. He is normally a lazy cad, always looking to get rich quick. But for some reason, he routinely volunteers for the Keep duty."
He shifts his weight a bit, "If you want a little more information about the Keep, House Sokol's administration office is just a few doors down. I am sure they would be willing to let you look into the beacon."
He looks Yarroth in the eye before speaking again, "Look boy, if you are intent on doin' this and you get permission from House Sokol to poke around, I'll help ya out. Drop my name at the ferryman, Karst. He'll get ya across. Only thing I ask is that you check in with me after it is said and done. If something happened to Grim, I'll probably have to turn in some kind of report."
Its a good thing none of us are sane, isn't it? Raina whispers to no one in particular.
Ceidith nods. Pleased to meet you Guard Sergeant Hurn.
In response to Raina's comment, he says Not sure about the others, but I'm definitely not sane He chuckles a bit at that too. It seems that Ceidith laughs too much
"You have a deal sergeant. When we discover what has happened, we will get back to you. We will head off now and speak with House Sokol...and thank you for the ferryman's name. I appreciate the help!"
Yarroth heads down to the House Sokol representative here on the docks.
|
|
The dwarf just nods and goes back to join his squad.
--
You find House Sokol's administration office just a few doors down, as you were directed. As soon as you enter the building, you are met by a human female, in her late 30s. She seems like business to the core, brusque and to the point, "Good afternoon, what can I do for you?"
"The promise of a fair bit of coin can go along way in swaying my sanity."He says quietly to Raina with an amused smile.
"The promise of a fair bit of coin can go along way in swaying my sanity."He says quietly to Raina with an amused smile.
Raina smiles back. Good coin and a good story are all that's needed to take a peak. And sometimes, not even the coin.
Ceidith lowers his mask a bit, enough so that you can see the sorners of his mouth, which indicates a slight smile. Good afternoon. We are, uh... a small band of adventurers. We were offered a job, and told to come here for some more information?
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Regarding Sokol Keep," Ander adds, feeling that might be a pertinent detail.
"And a generous consideration for the generous risk," Largo pipes in. Set the contracts up front. Everything always in writing. With a few critical exceptions.
That's a good question, Raina pipes in. The dockworkers, mercenaries, and merchants at the bar didn't offer pay, just told us to talk to Sergeant Hurn. He didn't offer pay, just told us to talk to the ferryman Karst. We're doing this out of the goodness of our hearts - to get the lighthouse back on and to allow ships to come to port so the local economy isn't destroyed. Where are you all getting the idea that we're being paid generous sums of money?
History:
Yarroth nods in agreement with Raina.
"Indeed and well spoken Raina. I am sorry if I gave any of your the impression of payment. I am a member of the town guard and this is part of my civic duty."
He turns back to the woman.
"My apologies for the confusion. I am Yarroth, know as the younger and member of the Phelan Road Wardens. From talking to a number of people I have heard that there is trouble at the lighthouse and I have come to offer my aid. I believe these others are also interested in helping as well."
Two small, pale eyes narrow in the direction of Yarroth and Raina, like a pair of underripe blueberries pinched by a disappointed farmer. He has drawn a narrow pipe from a pouch.
"A good heart is swell, see, right until it swells outta your chest, Largo scoffs. He twists toward the administrator.
"I can tell you're a civilized dame, with a civilized house. And civilized people, they help each other." He takes a short puff on the pipe. A moment later, a lone bubble of smoke squeezes out the corner of his lips and flees toward the nearest window.
"My friends can pass on their share. That's their choice. But the thing is, me and my other friends, we got families, see? Maybe here. Maybe somewhere else. Maybe nowhere. Point is, what're we gonna tell them when we get our swollen hearts ripped out by ghouls and chewed up by rats the size of a Waterdhavian towncoach?
"I tell you what we're gonna tell them: nothing, cuz we'll be dead. Can you live with that? I know I couldn't." Largo takes a longer drag on the pipe. His nostrils flare like a tiger's pupils on a moonless midnight.
Ceidith's hand drops to one of his daggers, a exquisite three-pronged blade with a blue pommel. Taking it out, he idly plays with it. Gold's nice. But I have a feeling that there's something, well...valuable mixed up in all of this lighthouse business. Treasure, you might say. Now, if this treasure, which may or may not exist, is found, which, yet again, may or may not happen, I... want a piece of it Turning towards Largo, he speaks again, this time in halfling. And I'm pretty certain you would want it too. His attention back towards the woman, he says So...what do you say?
There was this merchant company, that operated out of Waterdeep...Hm. If I give them a cut of this treasure, maybe they could tell me what happened to any of my friends, if that's where they ended up, of course
|
|
A small frown appears on her face, and Liela puts her fingers to her temples in contemplation. "Okay," she announces as if coming to a conclusion. "I will allow you access to the Keep. All this talk of treasure is foolishness, but we need that beacon re-lit. A young scion of House Sokol named Igan is responsible for the beacon. There are two caretakers on the premises named Darvag and Shandra, though I have only met them on one or two occasions, but they have been there since before I took this job."
She takes out a slip of paper and begins writing something with her quill, "There should be a contingent of Black Fist guards there... six, if memory serves. You seem to have already spoken with the Fist representative, so head down to the ferryman and give this to Karst. It will justify your official business there."
She hands the slip of paper to Yarroth and looks at Ceidith, "If... and this is a big if, if there is a treasure, it belongs to House Sokol. That is not to say there won't be a finders fee, perhaps."
Ander listens silently to the conversation, sometimes pinching his nosebridge, sometimes rolling his eyes, sometimes just standing there. At the conclusion of their business, he offers a polite "Thank you, ma'am" to the administrator and readies himself for the trip to the ferry.
Ceidith nods Thanks He turns around sharply, puts the dagger back in his belt, and begins to walk away.
Raina approaches the old man and gives him a genuine smile. "Good day, sir! Are you Mr. Karst?" she asks with a cheerful demeanor. "We've been sent by Sergeant Hurn to investigate the lighthouse. He said to talk to you about helping us out?" That last part was half statement and half leading question.
|
|
His eyebrows lift slightly, "Hurn sent ya, eh? Fine, get on board and I'll take ya across."
With a scowl he takes a last puff from his pipe and extinguishes it before hopping aboard the ferry. He doesn't even wait for you all to get on before he begins untying the lash.
He doesn't talk much at all as you cross the channel to Sokol Keep.
Ceidith hurriedly jumps onto the boat at the last minute, and, for the entirety of the trip, stares at the water, perhaps fearfully.
While walking to the ferry Kairon leans down and softly says to the halfling shepherd "I do not believe it was mentioned how much our finders fee would be. We will need to make sure the fee covers the expense of our talents. "
On the boat... "No turning back now.
If the ferry looks anything like this, then Raina takes off her boots, hikes up her skirt a bit, and drags a foot in the water.
Yarroth follows the other, a troubled look on his face. Once the group is on board he turns to the party.
"It seems that some of you are a little more mercenary in your offer of help. While I have no problem with gaining a little extra pay while on the job, I am not here just to see how much money I can make. Our first, and only priority is to get the lighthouse working again! I will do whatever it takes to ensure the sailors coming into this port are safe. If you are here just on a treasure finding mission...well..perhaps you should just stay on the ferry."
Largo nods with Kairon as the troupe of Samaritans tramps toward the dock. He chews his pipe ponderously, with all the intent of a bull staring down a branding iron through a mouthful of dry grass.
"Myeah, I caught that as well," he mutters. "They wanna send us down like a buncha baying bloodhounds, flushing out some golden rabbit so they can collect it themselves and throw us the gristle. But," he winks up at the elf and taps his nose, "I've got a backup plan: Grim. This hound smells a bounty, if his debts are what his friends said. We pinch him on our way through, well, we've earn our fee even if Sokol's hiding the key to the family vault."
A jabbed finger punctuates his final word. It bursts a smoke bubble.
"You may be on the job, constable, but some of us are less secure in our employment, see?"
Largo has stowed his pipe. He stands with crossed arms, staggered feet, and uncertain balance on the surf-rocked deck.
"I'll have your back in the bones start cracking, don't wear out your boots worrying about it. And if you'd rather rely on your own honest shadow than a man with an honest agenda, well, that luck's tough enough to crack an egg."
|
|
If the ferry looks anything like this, then Raina takes off her boots, hikes up her skirt a bit, and drags a foot in the water.
--
At the lot of your conversations, the ferryman chuckles a bit and mutters, "Fine lot you got there, law man."
Ander chuckles. "This is one of the more sane groups I've inexplicably found myself working with, actually. Count your blessings, Yarroth."
Yarroth give a wry smile to the ferryman.
"I too have been in...ummm..odd company before. I just want you all to know where I am coming from and what I hope to expect from you. If there is treasure to be found, well so be it! I am not going to demand it not be taken...well unless it actually belongs to someone who can make a claim..heh."
|
|
Karst chuckles, "We are almost there. Watch yer step, it's a bit windy on Thorn Island."
Soon, the ferry comes to a small quay on the eastern side the the islet. Nearby, you can see a couple of large wooden warehouses. Both the docks and the warehouses have seen better days, but seem sturdy enough.
The most prominent feature is the keep, which sits elevated from the shore. You can see where the beacon is, but it remains dark. As you approach the small dock, you see a pair of people come toward the shore to greet you.
--
After you disembark, they approach you, a middle-aged couple, and the man says, "Thank the gods, we were beginning to think that the city wouldn't send anyone."
"Well, strictly speaking, they didn't," Ander responds. "We heard there was trouble, and came to help..." Ander glances sideways at the group, "...for an assortment of reasons. Anyway, my name's Ander. You are?"
Ceidith looks around and inquires on every bodies names
Ceidith eagerly leaps out of the boat and onto the shore. Ceidith, Glad to meet you
|
|
At Ander's comment, the superstition flashes across the man's face as the woman at his side casts him a look of worry. After a short moment, he pats the woman's arm and clears his throat, "My name is Darvag and this is my wife, Shandra. We are the house servants. I take care of the maintenance and my wife takes care of the cleaning and service within. Our boy, Rorin, assists us both, in fact, he should be carrying out his chores in the main keep."
"Igan... Sokol is the House representative, but he is indisposed and could not meet with you. You say you are here to help?"
"We hope to be able to get the lighthouse working again. Can you tell us what is happening here? Where are the Black Fist guards?"
Largo jostles past the ferryman to stand next to Yarroth. Drops of spray splatter his back, and he slaps at the back of his head.
"The landbound Sokols are chewing off their lips over this lighthouse," he offers. "Sending their best warden to sort you out was the least they could do. He's a fixer, this one."