Chad gives Lark a quick nod, proceeding bellow decks to ensure that all is ready for their journey.
Thren will help plot out a course with Belina. Learning a bit from the navigator, the bard adds her knowledge to the task:
And as they work, Thren tells a few tales and sings songs of other places, working to keep the half-elf entertained.
Lark chats with the dock workers and gets a 10% discount on the drydock fees.
Chad makes sure all of the new supplies you gained from Vakarla are very well stowed, assuring that, unless you decide to cash out, you are well supplied for six months at least. Of course fresh food should probably be gotten from time to time to keep up morale.
Belina and Thren trace likely steps from Quent to Ollo, though there are no signs of shipwreck as they travel along their way. More important is what Kahuranga advises: that Shark Island is named for the sahuagin that frequently raid the island. Courses are adjusted to avoid areas where sahuagin might be likely to circle.
If avoiding them weren't dangerous enough, the Pirate Lord of Ollo is Avinar Sorrinash, the lycanthropic Free Captain of the Blood Moon, who is about as merciful as the sahuagin--and it is best to go to Ollo well away from a full moon, which fortunately you're about two weeks off from. Any visit to Ollo is advised to be swift--unlike the haven of Quent or the diverse metropolis of Port Peril, Ollo is known as the slum of the Shackles, dirty, ramshackle, and extraordinarily fatal for the unwary.
But, if this offers any good news at all, it makes sense that someone calling himself a doctor could make a decent living in Ollo, helping heal shark and wolf bites alike, and more cheaply than a temple. If he is good at what he does, he is likely well known, and finding him should be easy enough by asking around and, as needed, putting coin in the right hands.
As they start searching Ollo, Lark removes his eyepatch and spins a story of lingering problems from his injuries. "I look for sawbones in every port big or small. Some have helped and some hurt, but either way I keep trying. Maybe it's foolish, but I'm still hoping."
Given that Ollo seems like a pretty rough place, Kahuranga spreads some coin around, buying drinks for those listening to Lark's tales of woe, and keeping a weather ear on any crosstalk.
Chad lets his more charismatic Captain and other officers attempt the rubbing of shoulders with the locals, instead choosing to listen and observe.
Ollo is as bad or worse than you heard. People are furtive, miserable, untrusting, and seem to expect to be attacked any moment. But as you give the dock workers you're just in town briefly to check supplies (and probably take advantage of the black market here, though of course none of this is said directly) you are left alone. Chad's sharp eyes keep you veered from pickpockets and neerdowells. As you head into the least-dirty looking watering hole, Kahuranga's coin and Lark's eye makes for easy information gathering on the subject. You are quickly recommended "Hanelius Fitch" as a fair-dealer who handles lost limbs and other body parts with discretion and efficiency, and given directions to his surgical offices. Further conversations confirm the directions and recommendations.
Presuming you head to Dr. Fitch's, your knock at his door prompts the sliding open of a wooden shutter on his door, just large enough you can see most of the face of a human male in advanced middle age with a prominent jaw, who greets you with a cautious look and a brusque, "Can I help you?" If Lark's eyepatch is still off, he says. "Ah, I see. That's too far gone for me to fix, but I have a few prostheses, come in and see what you like." He looks at the large group staring at him. "I would prefer if only you and perhaps an associate or two came in. Such a... such a large number would be a tight squeeze in my office."
Whatever is determined, he opens the door and ushers you in.
The room is an efficient, clean doctor's office, with a desk with files in one corner, and on the other side, an operating table and lights fueled by everburning torch and various lenses and shutters to provide different levels of brightness. The tools on his table suggest the vast majority of his work is amputations. And indeed, one display case contains various limb prostheses--from simple hooks and pegs to articulated wooden hands, arms, and legs.
Getting straight to business, he pulls out thin, wide boxes that open up to reveal dozens of eyes and other similarly-sized orbs. They are all mostly glass, but there are also lacquered, painted wooden orbs and polished stones. Some are designed to mimic a human eye perfectly; others are of various wild colors and designs. "If you have a request for something specific, let me know and I can see what I can do."
"I'll keep a weather eye out, Cap'n." Chad gives Lark a nod and posts close to the door, hand ready to draw his bow if needed.
"I'll wait out here too." Thren tells the others. "I'll look scary, and Chad can actually be scary." The bard grins, taking up a post outside as well.
"Just a few of us, no problem." Lark nods in approval as the crew sort themselves into guard positions, then steps inside. Looking around he says to Dr. Fitch, "I'm sure it's better not to have a bunch of folks knocking about all your equipment."
Lark glances at cases, then he does a double-take and steps up for a closer look. "I really wasn't sure you'd have anything for me, but these are quite fine. Show me the wooden ones." He offers Dr. Fitch a handshake, "Captain Lark Greenwood. If I'm to have a new eye I may as well stay on brand."
The captain is serious about buying an eye, but as they discuss the items as prices he says, "I've not seen a lot of Ollo, but these don't seem like local products. Do you travel much to keep up your stock? Any interesting trips lately?"
Sandara goes in with Lark. "The captain's health is my concern, I'll go." She shrugs.
Some of the crew hangs out near the shop. It is a relatively quiet street, with similar businesses nearby--an alchemist-apothecary, and a boarding house for recovering invalids. Traffic on the street is light... mainly hungover-looking folk heading to the alchemist. You hear what sounds like a fight breaking out a few streets away; from the way passersby react (which is to say barely to not at all) this is not unusual.
Within the shop Dr. Fitch moves briskly and asks Lark if he can examine his socket and good eye to determine a good fit. "I make the wooden ones myself. Like most physicians in the Shackles I served a time as a ship's doctor, sawing wood as often as bones. I enjoyed the more delicate work more." He arches an eyebrow at Lark's question. He is definitely leery of strangers in general, and seems a little tense at the thought, but then he shrugs and replies. "As you may have guessed, Ollo is not a Haven for fine craftsmen in general. I travel to a few different ports to pick up supplies. Quent has some excellent jewellers and lapidarists. Though I haven't traveled in several months. I usually wait to hear from an old friend when he is in port, and I haven't heard from him in some time." He stops talking abruptly, pursing his lips--perhaps fearing he has said too much. He might need a little push past his paranoia.
Rough place... lives up to its reputation at least... still, the sooner we put this port behind us, the better.
Chad leans a bit closer to Threnody and whispers, "Remind me to check the hold for stow aways before we set sail. I would not put it past some soul being destitute, crazy, or desperate enough to risk making their escape from here in box." As the sounds of the scuffle eventually die down, he adds, "Honestly, I am not sure I would not do the same, positions swapped."
The bard nods at Chad's words. "Probably right. Might want to make sure no one's tried to sneak aboard and steal right out of the hold period." Thren whispers back, keeping her eyes and ears peeled.
Kahuranga makes an effort to browse, though he has no apparent need for the wares.
Distractedly, he contributes, "The sea is a difficult place to make a life. Not long ago we ran aground ourselves upon a hidden reef. I pray that nothing like that has happened to your friend. What ship do they sail on?"
---
Lark patiently holds still for the examination and measurements.
"Aye, waiting for news can be as hard as getting bad news. One more reason I prefer being out on the water." He tries for a sympathetic tone, "It sounds like worrying about your friend weighs on your heart and your livelihood." Lark opens his purse and starts counting out a large payment for the wooden eye.
"On this cruise the Fearsome Tide, that's my ship, has been from one end of the Shackles to the other. What's your friend's ship? It may be we've crossed paths and I can offer you some good news."
Dr. Fitch sees the purse, and while he gets the gist, he waves it away.
"Okay. I know you are not just here for an eye." He sighs.
"Well, since you've allowed me to get close enough to you to poke around your eye, I suppose a return of trust is fair. You have heard about the Brine Banshee's disappearance and found my name on a passenger list or something. You want to plunder its remains. Fair enough."
He walks over and opens a glass display behind his desk, pulling out one of several jarred specimens of bone and other oddities. It is a sealed glass tube holding a human-sized tibia that is shattered at one end. "This belonged to an old friend and fellow shipmate, Vargus Brack. Don't worry, he was glad to be rid of this and the gangrene that would have come with it had I not removed it for him. I kept it as a teaching example, though I've no apprentices at the moment. Vargus and I used to serve together; when I turned to the life of a landlubber, he became an officer aboard the Brine Banshee. He'd often visit when they stopped here in port and sometimes I booked passage with them when I needed to go to pick up supplies."
"They picked me up in Quent many months ago after a shopping expedition, dropped me off here on their way elsewhere. I didn't hear from Vargus afterward, and later learned it never reached its final destination. Those who know of the Banshee think she's sunk." He looks downward, eying the bone thoughtfully. "I mourn my friend, but I have been tempted to find a way to the ship for more reasons than to determine his whereabouts--the same reason you are no doubt asking me. The Brine Banshee was a remarkable vessel and many rich merchants entrusted it to carry their cargo. Recovering it would probably render me enough wealth I could retire somewhere other than this accursed island and there would still be plenty left over." He holds up the bone. "With this, I think I know of a way to find the ship's location precisely. I hadn't acted upon it as just leaving Ollo means risking death by sahaugin among other things, and I've no vessel of my own. If you are interested in working with me, all I want is enough of the take to be able to retire somewhere on Motaku Island or the Mainland. What do you say?"
Chakam accompanied Lark and Kahu to Dr. Fitch's. Despite his clumsy attempts, it was quite obvious that his shape underneath the long sleeved robes was first worldly, as the fey-looking Rusalva tresses would insist on float around.
Regardless of it, he kept the shape as he stood against the wall with crossed arms, silently but paying attention to what was being discussed.
Ya' said ya' think ya' know a way to find the Banshee. - he finally spoke, stepping ahead and gesturing - Would anyone else be able tah' use the same way? Or, perhaps, would'ya have told such way to anyone else b'fore us?
As he stops, the tresses keep moving as if continuing the gestures in a ghostly fashion. The female shape would be very attractive if he was a true Rusalka - however, the pirate-y accent, combined with the way he walks and acts, gives a much more awkward, sinister aura.
"I'm not sure why you've chosen this place to live, but you seem to deserve better than this place. Motaku or Port Peril are nice enough, but we have a place of our own, or rather the Captain has a place of his own. If you were able to impress him, you might find a place there. I was a wandering soul until I found this crew. It may be that you, too, can find a place among us."
On his shoulder, Taniwha runs his nose comfortingly across Kahuranga's temple and hair. The two seem to be sharing something the others can't detect.
The crew outside become aware there are some watching you, from higher up on another level of the city (it is built in rough terraces) or from around corners. Eyes particularly follow Chakam.
Inside, the doctor shakes his head. "As to why I live here... between the sahuagin and the werewolves, there are plenty who need a surgeon. I'd say I make a good living without charging an arm and a leg, but that might be tasteless. Other places, with better temples and less trouble, have less need of someone of my skills. As to your offer, while I appreciate the sentiment and your sincerity, I've no interest in impressing anyone--or living among those who draw trouble. And, while I get the sense you are more trusting and more even handed than many I've met, I can still tell you're the sort whom trouble seeks even when you are not looking for it."
He looks at Lark and Kahuranga firmly. "All I need to know is whether we can make a deal and find the Brine Banshee together."
Feeling the eyes searching down at them from above, Chad decides to look upward carefully.
Unable to shake the idea that someone might be thinking that they might be an easy target, Chad draws his bow from his quiver as well as an arrow.
"Miss Thren, would you terribly mind if I shot us a local? I was thinking we could throw the body to the sahuagin as a tribute on our way out to sea."
He smiles in what he hopes is a convincing manner as he says this a bit too loudly.
Dr. Fitch sees the purse, and while he gets the gist, he waves it away.
"Okay. I know you are not just here for an eye." He sighs.
"Well, since you've allowed me to get close enough to you to poke around your eye, I suppose a return of trust is fair. You have heard about the Brine Banshee's disappearance and found my name on a passenger list or something. You want to plunder its remains. Fair enough."
He walks over and opens a glass display behind his desk, pulling out one of several jarred specimens of bone and other oddities. It is a sealed glass tube holding a human-sized tibia that is shattered at one end. "This belonged to an old friend and fellow shipmate, Vargus Brack. Don't worry, he was glad to be rid of this and the gangrene that would have come with it had I not removed it for him. I kept it as a teaching example, though I've no apprentices at the moment. Vargus and I used to serve together; when I turned to the life of a landlubber, he became an officer aboard the Brine Banshee. He'd often visit when they stopped here in port and sometimes I booked passage with them when I needed to go to pick up supplies."
"They picked me up in Quent many months ago after a shopping expedition, dropped me off here on their way elsewhere. I didn't hear from Vargus afterward, and later learned it never reached its final destination. Those who know of the Banshee think she's sunk." He looks downward, eying the bone thoughtfully. "I mourn my friend, but I have been tempted to find a way to the ship for more reasons than to determine his whereabouts--the same reason you are no doubt asking me. The Brine Banshee was a remarkable vessel and many rich merchants entrusted it to carry their cargo. Recovering it would probably render me enough wealth I could...
"I'll leave that up to the Captain."
"If you're going to shoot a local, Chad, leave no witnesses I say. Then if you want to feed the sharks, there won't be annoying issues with whatever passes for law and order around here," the bard replies with a lazy shrug. She keeps her eyes peeled still, in case the conversation gets a reaction from someone out of sight.
'Tis very nice, but ya' still didn't answer mah' question. - said Chakam, immediately continuing - Are we tah' find competition fah' the Banshee?
Lark interjects after Chakam's question, "Competition or not, we're headed after the Banshee and this is strong lead. I'm sure the good doctor can tell us what he knows when we're underway."
"Yes, Dr. Fitch we have a deal. You help us find the ship and you'll have your retirement share of its spoils." Lark offers to shake on the deal, then continues, "What do you say we hang about while you pack. Then we can escort you to the Fearsome Tide. Now that we have a lead I'm loathe to let it out of my sight."
"I'd still like an eye while we're here. That one in fact, if it'll fit." He points to one of the wooden lacquered orbs painted to look human-natural.
While suspicious eyes outside retreat, you hear a distant wolf's howl.
---
Dr. Fitch eyes the strange robed creature, whose head rubs against the ceiling of his office, nervously. "Forgive me. There may be others looking for the Banshee but I have no reason to believe they have what I do--or any other part of a crewmate on that ship." He rattles the bone gently in its tube. "While some may be able to deduce roughly where it sank, no one has found it yet, and it's been long enough early vultures have flown off by now, so to speak."
"All right then. Bring your crewmates in, and I will fit you and pack my things."
Thren and Chad are welcomed in, and he fits Lark most gladly with a nice eye that is painted very carefully so that it looks quite natural at a glance. With some work he helps insert it into Lark's eye socket and tells him how to take it in and out and clean it.
As he packs a few things he further explains the value of the tibia. "I am aware, somewhat, of various spells that can help find a person--or body--and having one of their belongings helps. Alternately, if you have no such access to such magic... I have a more specific, but admittedly dangerous, plan. Which is why working with adventurous mariners is somewhat necessary. It has to do with finding another former patient--this one very much alive--named Milksop Morton. He is a Free Captain who regularly sails between here and the Smoker, and came to see me for medical assistance. He bragged of his favorite possession, a ring of the iron skull. It specifically can help the wearer find any person or corpse if you own that individual's body part. He used it to find various wrecks and remains of old colleagues. Such a thing would be very useful for our purposes. The problem is taking it from Morton--who is a capable conjurer--and who is unlikely to be convinced to part with the ring without either a massive sum of money or a fight. He comes frequently to Ollo and I think he is due in shortly so it would be easy enough to seek him out on his way in--if you wish to risk such a venture. Otherwise I have a vague idea of where it sank, but it would probably take ages to comb the seas without magical assistance."
Chad listens and nods.
"Whichever we pick, we should move. I got the distinct impression that our visit here was attracting... unwanted attention. We heard a wolf's howl before we came in."
After the eye goes in the young captain blinks several times. "That is peculiar, but I like it!"
He listens closely to Dr. Fitch's explanation, then nods at Chad's comment, "We can have this talk as we go." Lark leads out and heads back toward the docks.
"I don't mind a fight, but if Morton's a Free Captain we can't attack him without provocation. We might gin up a reason, but seeing how we're new to the game I'd want to be careful with that." Lark looks around at the group. "This is where I ask the rest of y'all about magic stuff. Even if we don't have such a spell among us, could we get a scroll one of you could use?"
"Breaking the rules seems like the pirate way, Captain, but if we wish to keep to the rules, perhaps we can take a page out of our own recent adventures. It would be too scurrilous for us to be wreckers ourselves, but if we know where this pirate is sailing, perhaps we could put ourselves in his path and make ourselves seem a ripe target. Fly a merchant flag. If he attacks us, then surely we can defend ourselves."
Thren takes in the captain's new eye. "It'll take some getting used to," the bard tells Lark thoughtfully. "You wear an eyepatch well."
The bard listens to the commentary of the others, learning what's going on. "Way I see it," the tiefling drawls, we need to steal it from him, buy it from him, or take it from him. He's a Free Captain, so fighting with him's gonna be tricky. Don't know if we can buy it from him. So that leaves steal. Whether in a game of chance or off him when he's drunk. Hard to argue with us at that point." She shrugs.
We could try tah' gather som'info on him first. Find out if he likes tha' rum even more than the average sailor, or if he likes to throw dice a lot. - says Chakam, liking the points Thren brings - Or we could try tah' create a distraction and get it from him. Not many sailors pay attention tah' rats moving around tha' vessels...
He scratches his chin, at this point. In his core, despite not being free captains for long, he didn't truly follow much of a pirate code. He would follow the group's mind, of course, and pretend to have more than an inch of morals, but in truth he was obviously considering just attacking the guy anyway, steal the object and send everything and everybody to the depths of the sea. Dead men tell no tales, he thought - not for a matter of being evil, but really just practical. Regardless, he dismissed his own instincts and spoke once again.
Tha' sylph also has a point. Maybe we could just pretend tah' be easy preys. But 'aye still like more the "sneaky appropriation" approach.
Lark grins at his first mate, "Thanks, I appreciate that." He attempts a wink with his new wooden eye, but the unused muscles give more of an odd facial tic. "That didn't feel quite right. Guess I'll need to practice."
"If Captain Morton is due in Ollo soon that's certainly our chance to go after the ring. Chakam, you're right, we've got more than one way to be sneaky among us."
"Dr. Fitch, would you care to share what kind of doctoring Morton was looking for when he came to you?"
You carry your conversation back to the Fearsome Tide. With the larger group of you and the good doctor in tow, previous onlookers leave you alone.
Answering Lark's question, Dr. Fitch says, "It is not usually good professional practice to reveal a patient's malady, but since I'm suggesting you steal from him I suppose that's moot, yes? He needed treatment for venereal disease. So if you're looking for weaknesses, it isn't of the missing limb variety. Although one appendage might go missing if he keeps up bad habits."
The captain hands Dr. Fitch off to Yamtisy to be settled in a guest berth. He brings the rest of the officers into private conference.
Once the confusion about Morton's status is sorted he says, "Well, we're spoiled for choice. A fight, a heist, even a plain old mugging could work. Anyone have any bright ideas or actual plans?" Lark pulls of his tricorne and idly brushes off some dust. "If he does dock here in Ollo soon that will be our chance to scout his ship and crew. We can follow Morton if he comes ashore, maybe an opportunity will present itself."
Chad nods, thoughtful. "Any of those plans could work... though since he is not openly our enemy I would prefer not to have to take it by force. No sense in burning the sails of folks who ain't wronged us, after all. Now, if you will excuse me, Cap'n, I need to do a sweep of the ship. No sense in carrying extra guests besides th' good doctor, eh?"
So saying, Chad heads to the holds and proceeds to methodically check every place a stow away could possibly hide.
We should try tah' gather more information on him, here at the port. Like Thren was sayin', if he likes rum a little mor' than tha' average, or if he enjoys bettin', we could use it in our favor. - replies Chakam, just repeating what was already said.
Dr. Fitch offers his advice. "My sense of Morton is he is a very unsavory fellow. He is a true pirate and preys upon many ships that would otherwise bring better commerce and improve the tourism at the Smoker. I mean, I don't mean to dissuade you from waiting. I am just noting you should not feel badly should violence erupt. Still..."
"I'll be honest, I imagined going out to meet him at sea, where you might surprise him or he might foolishly attack you. But the more I say think about it, perhaps more options are available to you here--and it will be harder for a large fight to break out if things go badly. The one thing you must be careful of is not raising such a riot as to irritate Lord Sorrinash... and he is very easily irritated. But, as you are certain Morton is not a Free Pirate, Sorrinash may well look the other way should things go south with Morton. And if you find a way to avoid violence... the fewer patch-up jobs I have to perform, the better."
Chad, fortunately there are no stowaways--apparently your crew's reputation is infamous enough potential stowaways thought better of it. Well, unless you count the bushel of live crabs that appears to have somehow been smuggled aboard--they are certainly not in your logbook and Beryl did not report them in her food requisitions. These were not hard to find as Owlbear is sitting on the floor, catching them as they try to escape the wooden basket, and eating them alive. Some of them get beyond his reach and begin skittering all over the cargo hold floor.
"Does he have a favorite brothel around here? I mean, venereal disease tells me plenty about what he does on leave. We could always mug him on his way there or back, which might be more satisfying than robbing him." The bard muses.
"I did not inquire of Captain Morton's preferences when I treated him. Most of the pleasure houses in the city are along the uncreatively named Red Light Street. You could try to keep an eye out for him there."
The bard nods at the additional information. "Unless someone has a better idea, how about we go with my plan to take this fool when he's in port and preoccupied?" Thren suggests to the other officers.
"Some of us should inquire into whether he has any favorite houses, or even favorite doxies. Narrowing our targets would be useful. We should also see if we can find some sort of sleep poison or potion. If we don't want to hurt him, it would be best if he could sleep through the experience. And I still think replacing the ring with a facsimile would be best, both for any allies we gain and for avoiding reprisals. But we won't be able to replicate it until we have it, most likely..."
Kahuranga's eyes glitter with this new challenge.
Chad sees the crabs and looks at Owlbear with exasperation.
"Where did these come from? And what are they doing here? And why are you here eating them raw? Nevermind, scratch that last question Master Owlbear. Take these to Beryl immediately so that she can begin preparing them for dinner."
Rolling his eyes, Chad returns to the rest of the officers.
"Seems like we will be having crab for dinner tonight. No stow aways or other guests... well, beyond the crabs."
Chakam smiles and nods in agreement with Thren. He had been trying to suggest something similar for most of the time - although, in truth, he wasn't exactly opposed to simply kill the guy and grab.
Later, when Chad talks about the "stowaways", Chakam approaches him with excitement.
Aye mate! Som' good ole crabs for dinner. I wouldn't ask for anything else. - following the banter, he changes the tone to a more serious one, addressing the other officers - We should probably get informed 'bout the sharkfart b'fore he gets here. 'Ya, know, 'ya handsome charismatic folks could ask'round a bit, maybe? So we can find tha' better spot and whatnot.