|
The trek up the river bank is an arduous hike constantly climbing over the bowed mangrove roots and at some points walking on them to stay out of the coppery water. By the time you make it to a gangplank leading up to the boardwalks of town all of you have boots caked in red mud.
The blanket tied around a stick method isn't all that sophisticated, but people don't seem to take much notice. Colonial northerners and darker skinned natives throw dice on boards marked with round chips while sipping tea and other drinks in the shaded verandas of bars or taverns perched on stilts. The northerners unlucky to be out attending to business in the streets are typically flushed red and wear either loose fitting flowing clothing or very little clothing to compensate for the heat of the Mwangi jungle.
At some point after asking around you realize you'll have to pay a local to ferry you across the Vanji river which divides the city to get to Rulkep's Tonics. The ferry boy is maybe twelve and wears only a pair of shorts, but rushes to help you all with your equipment and offers a steady hand into his broad rowboat. Twelve or not, he is strong from his work and begins rowing you across efficiently, while chatting up Wadi who is seated near him. Eyeing all of your carried gear and muddy boots he opens, "New in town boss? Let me tell you, best place in town for dinner... Mbala's Kitchen! You go! You thank me later. Best kassava mash and catfish porridge. You here many days? Maybe you need a place to stay?"
|
Alie listens carefully to the ferry boy, and attempts to help her friend Wadi recover from his slight error. "Kassava mash and catfish porridge? Delicious. Well for us that aren't fighting a stomach bug, that is? I know this one," she says, pointing at Wadi, "has been fighting it for a week. He can hardly keep anything down."
|
|
The boy shakes his head clearly used to crazy Northerners while he continues rowing, "Whatever you say boss. Almost there." He rows the rest of the way in silence, moors the boat and hops out lightly to offer you a hand onto the dock. As he helps Fog up he asks, "Why you all carrying so many tree branches around?"
|
"Why you all carrying so many tree branches around?"
They're not branches boy Fog begins, every ounce of his race's xenophobia apparently being sweated out of him by the blazing sun. They are, ahem, Alchemical Supplies. As he glares at the boy, he notices the stares of the others, and at least has the dignity to look a little shamed, and before turning to walk into the town says to the boy, Oh, thank you for the smooth ride.
|
|
Aldred gently elbows Fog, but it doesn’t seem to help. “Alchemical supplies ... that also happen to be branches.” He lifts his hat slightly to wipe the sweat from his brow ... again. “M’bala’s kitchen sounds lovely,” he continues, the enthusiasm sounding perhaps ever so slightly forced, although it’s hard to catch. “Will we find it easily? As for a place to stay ... well, we don’t know exactly how long our business here in town will take, things to buy, sticks to sell ... Do you have a recommendation?”
|
Sekhemre eyes Wadi and Fog with some concern, and tries to roll with Alie's cover...
"Yes, I told him that he needed to try some of the local delicacies, but unfortunately, he forgot to take the tonic that I recommended to go with it, and he is still wrestling with his stomach as a result..."
He then smiles at the boy.
"Thank-you for the recommendation. When I end-up feeling a bit peckish, I will definitely keep an eye out for Mbala's Kitchen."
|
|
From the far bank you simply follow the boardwalk down the river front toward the sea docks, and then turn to follow the shore where the river spills into the harbor. The boardwalk leads into a second quieter sea front harbor. An old man outside a quiet tavern slowly submerges a basket of squid in vinegar one at a time, flays them open, and drapes them over a line to air dry. Just beyond the little square made up of this tavern, a cafe, and a portside lodging house, you see a brightly colored sign advertising Rulkep's Tonics.
A small bell rings as the door of the shop opens. Neatly labeled bottles of colorful liquids and small packets of powders are lined up on shelves behind the counter and secured by glass paned windows on shelves lining the walls of the shop. Sacks full of bulk items like hard candies or tobacco stand open with scoops inside around the room. Gnarled roots floating in yellow brine take a special place beneath a glass countertop next to an open box of cigars.
Several disinterested customers mill about, all of them pausing to look up at you as the door opens before going back to their shopping. A gaunt looking man with dark circles under his eyes, a graying beard and slightly pointed ears steps out from a doorway behind the countertop. He fans himself slowly as he flashes you a tight smile. "Welcome to Rulkep Tonics, friends. What can I do for you today?"
His eyes flicker to the other customers, then back to you where his expression shifts distinctly to fear. He shifts the fan so that it blocks the view of one of the shoppers and between sweeps of the fan clearly mouths a single word: HELP.
|
|
Aldred steps up to the counter and nods very slightly as his eyes flick towards one of the bracelet wearing customers, trying to let Rulkep – if this is he – know that his message has been seen and understood.
“Good sir,” he says loudly, in his best ‘merchant’ voice - probably hamming it up a bit. “It is not what you can do for us, but what we can do for you.” He holds the man’s gaze meaningfully on this last word. “We have wondrous and rare, ah, alchemical supplies for sale, from distant Avistan, wares that you could most certainly use, ah, in your business here.” As Aldred speaks his hand drops casually towards his spell component pouch.
|
|
One of the customers, an unshaven man with long greasy black hair hanging in strands, a broad brimmed hat and a sleeveless leather jerkin studded with metal knobs to show off his muscle, narrows his eyes as Aldred speaks, then turns around and says, "Sorry, Mr Rulkep was just closing up for the day. Maybe you best be on your way." His hand casually drops to rest on a short polished black skullbasher of a club.
The smooth skinned guy across the room with a dusky complexion somewhere between the natives and the northerners backs him up, "You got a problem with your ears? The man said the shop is closed! Maybe I need to clean your ears out for you?" He slaps an identical club across his open palm.
The native Bonuwat woman, darker than the others, with hair in a multitude of tiny braids, simply draws her own sap slowly and waits for the inevitable.
|
|
The guy with stringy black hair chuckles at Fog's audacity, then walks over to him slowly. "Yer mouth get you in trouble a lot?" he asks before viciously clouting the dwarf merchant across the face with his polished club.
The woman stands behind him and a little to his side and eyes Aldred, "I'm gonna feed you to the river crocs, foreigner. Piece by piece."
The mouthy one doesn't say a word, but darts around the corner of a freestanding display case swinging his club savagely at Wadi's temple. The Chelaxian "merchant" was just able to get an arm up to fend off the blow, but thud of an impact leaves his arm tingly and hurting like hell.
Feeling naked without his armor, Kayluss hesitates a momnet before drawing Ixthalos and standing to face the attackers.
|
|
The guy with stringy black hair chuckles at Fog's audacity, then walks over to him slowly. "Yer mouth get you in trouble a lot?" he asks before viciously clouting the dwarf merchant across the face with his polished club.
Fog moves with the blow, momentarily dazed, but his dwarven constitution soon brings that around. He looks hard at the man, and says "Never anything I can't handle." before planting his fist square in the man's face.
|
|
As the tough clubs Fog, Aldred cautiously backs away through the assembled merchants and back out through the front door. The unshaven thug smirks as he anticipates the rest of you all breaking into a panic at any second.
Around the corner Alie reaches within to invoke her fey heritage, but dividing her focus between that and staying clear of a mercenary ready to club her proves too much to manage on demand.
Sekhemre reaches into the sling and gropes around until his hand closes around the familiar hilt of his longsword. The alchemist draws it from its scabbard and looks around for an opportunity.
Wadi stumbles backwards from the blow he took, blood streaming down his face. Not willing to use his sorcerous powers (yet), he decides to fend off the attacks for now.
Kayluss drops the makeshift sling on the floor of the shop. It spills open revealing an assortment of weaponry and armor. The native woman on the other side of the crates sees it and screams, "MERCENARIES! DROP THEM FAST!" Sword in hand, the Andoran warrior shoulders through to the front line, but the lead thug dances back from his massive blade.
Though he had moved with the blow, Fog was momentarily dazed. His dwarven constitution brought that around quick enough. He looks hard at the man, and says "Never anything I can't handle." before planting his fist square in the man's face. The greasy haired mercenary is caught completely off guard and rocks backward with the blow. He recovers shakes his head and spits out a mouth full of blood and a couple teeth. "Oh you're going to regret that dwarf!" He feints with a fist then brings the club down like a hammer breaking Fog's nose and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.
Around the corner the dusky skinned mercenary grins at Wadi's defensive posture and promptly cracks him right in the skull. The sorcerer's legs turn to rubber and he crumples to the floor of the shop. "Yer next lady" he growls at the gnome, "Run before I break your pretty little face."
|
|
Aldred didn’t mind admitting to himself; he was scared. Without weapons, and caught in these close confines the group was at a distinct disadvantage. He managed to back out of the room, dodging the hostile parties, getting outside the door, where he stood, hand on the door (ready to close it if needs be), surveying the situation ... which was rapidly growing worse.
Shaken, and slow to react, he watches whilst Fog and Wadi are dropped to the ground, and continues to hesitate, shamefully unsure how he can help, while Kayluss and Sek grab weapons and return the thugs’ attacks. Finally, he is inspired into action.
Reaching for his spell component pouch, the bard pulls forth a handful of sand and flings it at the thugs. “Rock a bye baby, mother lovers!” he calls.
|
|
Frustrated, Alie tries to regain her focus, but seeing Wadi go down right beside left her panicked. Her innate magic fails her again.
Behind her, Sekhemre grabs takes his longsword in both hands and drives it forward into a powerful lunge that completely impales the newly toothless mercenary. He looks down in shock, his eyes roll back in his head, and he drops like lead pulling free of the sword on the way down.
The braided woman howls in shock and rushes in to avenge him, but Kayluss meets her halfway bringing his sword down in a powerful strike that catches her well before she can get within his reach. The blade buries itself deep in her shoulder, breaking bone and severing muscle as well as driving her straight down to the floor with the pure force of the blow. She gasps in pain, reaches out trying to pull herself back, but is completely incapacitated by the injury.
From outside Aldred begins an intricate incantation, but it will take a moment to complete.
As Sekhemre yanks his sword free, the last mercenary standing swings a vicious blow at his head. The alchemist manages to pull back some, but takes a painful blow across the side of his neck instead.
|
|
Sekhemre looks at Alie, with true regret in his voice.
"Alie, you know why we are here, and why we need to keep a low profile. As such, once we get involved in something like this, we need to keep liabilities to a minimum..."
He then turns on the gentleman who clocked him, and attempts to drive him to the ground...
|
|
"Sek, we are doing anything except keeping a low profile right now, just so you know. Three dead bodies and blood everywhere." she shakes her head.
Turning to the merchant, she quickly asks, "Would it be possible to close the store for a bit while we try and get this place cleaned up? It sounds funny now, but we were trying to keep a low profile."
|
|
"We can still engage in damage control. This is a rough-and-tumble port city. I dare say, a few bodies floating in the harbor, or weighed-down with stones, or simply dumped in an alley, would not be unusual. As for the mess in here, copious applications of Prestidigitation, and even a little elbow-grease, should remove any residual evidence."
Sekhemre then turns to the merchant.
"I take it that you are Senzer?"
"We were sent to find-out why supplies had suddenly ceased to arrive. Other than the obvious," Sekhemre gestures towards the bodies, "what seems to be the problem?"