"A refit, good ma'am. While we do need some more provisions, the commons house is more than enough for now," Veltisiel tells the woman, nodding in thanks.
Hearing that the ship will be refit, Grak grabs his things and heads to the common house for lodging. "I suppose some time off the ship will be good for me."
"If you be looking to alter your ship, you will need to talk to the man himself. You'll find Rickety there in the Common House. You can negotiate with him."
The ship docks easily, pulled in by an unexpected current moving into the mouth of the river. No doubt some sort of magical effect brought on by the druid.
"Once you have completed negotiations, we'll draw your ship into the dry dock over there until she is ready to go."
You move away from the river mouth toward a once-grand building with broad wings extending from its ground floor standing at the end of the docks, its octagonal dome topped by a cupola. It was obviously a fine villa in its day but time and the harsh sun and rains of the Slithering Coast have faded its paint and cracked its boards, leaving it a gray ghost of its former self. A painted board above the veranda names it as “Rickety’s Squibs.” Smaller, less grandiose hovels and sheds clapped together of flotsam and jetsam surround the larger building and merge into the jungle behind it.
Once inside, you find a simple and rundown taproom. The house sits in the shade of trees, reducing the jungle heat somewhat. In the dim room, you find a motley group of roughly dressed laborers. With no work at the moment, there is a bit of amusement going on as a pair of gnomes perform with fiddle and fife. The music is not masterful, but it is is heartfelt.
A quick appraisal of the room recognizes the deference given to an older man with a halo of white hair surrounding a bald and age spot mottled pate. His teeth are brown and ragged as he stands and smiles at you. His hands are gnarled by rheumatism, but they are steady and strong when they fold around your own.
"Welcome to Rickety's Squibs. I, obviously, am Rickety himself.I understand that you want a refit. Have a drink on the house and let's talk prices. The price for a simple refit, clean 'er up, change her sillouette, give her a new name and figurehead is 2000 gold. Of course, we can offer a full line of other upgrades. Smuggling compartments, sail and weapon upgrades, whatever you might want."
Grak follows the others over to speak to Rickety. Since he isn't a very good negotiator, he stays towards the back. When Rickety mentions the cost, he does his best to hide his reaction. "2000 gp! I doubt we have 200 among us," he thinks, wondering how they are going to pay for the work.
The Common House has a good supply of various liquors, but their only brewed beverage is a mead that comes from the local population of wild bees.
Ordrax remains on the ship. He walks all over the ship to make sure it remains safe and secured.
"Let's stick with the refit for now." Veltisiel tells Rickety, "It is possible to add the other additions later, yes?"
He looks out at the docks, "Quite the business you have here. You must be proud."
Raush breathes the damp air happily, as the smell of the jungle reminds him of home, in the Mwangi Expanse.
As Veltisiel starts negotiating, he leans against his staff, wondering if the tiefling has some ace up his sleeve.
Rickety smiles a crooked, gapped grin, "It ain't much, I fear, but it is mine. I ain't seen the likes of you, nor hear of you, and unless I miss my guess, that ship you sailed in here is a Rahadoumi trader by the name of the Man's Promise. Her I have seen, not here but down in Bloodcove. So how did you come to be her captain and crew. I see not a Rahadoumi among the lot."
"Ah, it was a serendipitous happening. We were sailing, as it often happens, when our captain had a sudden disagreement with the one sailing the Man's Promise. It didn't take long to solve the discussion in a most civil way, so much that some of that ship's sailors joined our motley crew. Defeated in the debate, the other captain chose to retire to a more private life. Then, since it was little more than flotsam, we headed to the renowned Squibs for some repairs. And possibly pick up some work, if you know of any, for needs are many and gold is never enough."
Veltisiel likewise spreads the tales of their exploits.
The crowd seems entranced by Veltisiel's tale of being impressed by the crew of the Wormwood, taking the Man's Promise, and running aground in the storm on the strange uncharted island. Tales of fighting goblin squid and rescuing some of the crew that stand before them.
As Veltisiel reaches the climax of his story, Rosie Cusswell, the small but sturdy halfling, begins to underscore the tale with her fiddle. As he finishes, she launches into a reel that has the crowd leaping from their seats and dancing with fervor if not skill.
As things veer off into festivity, Rickety gets serious. He brings whoever wants to bargain to a table in the corner, sets you up with the drinks of your choice, and makes the following offers.
"So let us talk of compensation. You need 2000 gp, which from the look on your faces you can't quite make. I can offer you 50 gp per head for any crew you wish to sell off. Anyone you want to get rid of, we can slip an herb into their mead and sell them off to Bloodcove, and if you want to get rid of that dead feller I'll give you 200 as he would be especially desirable down there. If you still be lacking, I'd be willing to stake you as you enter a life of piracy. You turn over a third of whatever you gain until you pay me 2500 gp. Of course, there would be consequences for reneging on the deal. You can take rooms here as long as we are working on your ship. Food and drink you will have to buy yourself."
Grak joins the others to work out a deal. "Well unfortunately I don't think we have anyone we can get rid of. In fact, we could use some more. You happen to know of a cook looking for a ship? As for Tulis, I think he is worth more to us to keepn
"I believe that offer is as good as any. Steep interest rate, but nothing we can't handle with the wind in our sails."
Rickety looks thoughtful, pursing his lips over his ragged smile, "You might as find a lad or lass in the scullery the be wanted to leave the staid life of Rickety's Squibs. They would have a small lot of knowledge of cookin'. I'll not hold back anyone as wants to leave. Tradin in slaves is one thing, but I don't keep 'em"
Veltisiel shakes Rickety's hand, "Thank you for your offer. We gladly accept, though, as they have said, we don't have any bodies to spare."
Rickety spits in his own hand and shakes Veltisiel's hand firmly. THe wiry man may be thin and jagged toothed, but his grip is crushing and his eyes bright.
"The price is steep, indeed, but if you have what it takes to join the elite ranks of the Free Captains of the Shackles, the payment should be as nothing. Here in the heat of the day is no time to drag your ship out of the River and get to work. Summon your crew to join us. We will drink and dine tonight, and you can share you tales of the world with us. At the edge of Dawn, we will drag your barge out of the water and turn it into a right fit sea predator."
Veltisiel stays restrained, enjoying some of the best food and drink on offer, but makes sure he keeps a clear head- and that he knows for certain nobody slipped any drugs into anything.
As the others are away on shore, Ordrax continues to roam the ship. HE is getting himself acquainted with the ship.
Raush does not seem to know the meaning of the word "moderation". He drinks like a sponge, eats like a pig and dances until his feet start chafing.
Not remembering the last time he had a good meal and not knowing the how long it will be before he gets another, Grak joins Raush in over-indulging. While he definitely over-eats, he drinks his fill, and chooses to do more talking than dancing. He complements the cook, and tries to see if anyone who knows how to cook is interested in joining the crew. He also tells anyone who will listen about the Grindylows, as that's the most interesting thing he has seen so far on this voyage.
Tracking down the chef, Grak finds one "Black Bones" Plank, a human male of Mwangi ancestry. His skin is as black as night. When he smiles, his teeth are jarringly crooked. To Grak's inquiries, he replies, "I be happy enough here feeding the folk at Rickety's, but I've a scullery wench name of Davina who is a fine enough cook. She might be willing to sign on."
"Thanks for the information. I'll go talk to her," he tells the cook. He then finds Ravenna and asks her to talk to Davina about joining the crew since he doesn't want to scare the woman off.
Finding the woman, the two of them approach. "Are you Davina? We were asking "Black Bones" Plank if he knew of anyone who might be interested in joining our crew as the cook and he suggested we talk to you. He said you know your way around a kitchen. You would get an equal share in any plunder of course. What do you think? Care for a bit of adventure?"
"...and that's -burp- that's when I saw the slave-driving ***hat hangin' there like the world's greasiest piñata, and those whatchacallem floatin' in the drink thirsty for flesh. Hungry. Anyway."
Raush takes a gulp of the drink, looks at the mug with a dubious expression, then downs the thing.
"Anyway, first thought is ugh, we've gotta punch these things outta the water and get the people out, but then it hit me, right? I've the perfect distraction an' we can smuggle th'others out while the things are feastin' on the former cap'n Plugg. Wasn't much of a leader but ***** me sideways if he wasn't great ghoul bait! Ha!"
Davina squints at Ravenna and Grak. "And what be the code of your ship? You offer a full share, which I likes the sound of, but I'd be curious to know what else be your followin'."
At the climax of Raush's story, the room explodes in laughter and pewter mugs clanking on tables.
"Ghoul bait, that's a good one."[b] says Rickety. [b]"Well, if I'm to get to work on your ship in the morning, I'll need to get some rest tonight."
As Rickety departs, the party swings into a new level of action. After a few hours, things wind down, leaving you a few hours of sleep before the settlement stirs to life.
A bell rings an hour before dawn, awakening the laborers. In only a few hours, the camp has dragged the Man's Promise into dry dock, stripped it of sails and rigging, and set about taking measurements. All cargo and personal effects are removed from the ship.
A heavy heat quickly settles over the camp, stifling your breathing. No one seems to eat early here, getting in a few hours of work before the heat of the day sets in, then heading to a noon meal out of the sun.
After a night of drinking and the first relaxation for a long time, what would you get up to in the morning?
As soon as he wakes up, groggily and with a splitting headache, Raush goes looking for Grak, holding a gold coin in hope the hobgoblin can prepare some alchemist's kindness for him.
Whether he managed to get the brew or not, he sets off looking for offers of mercenary work, either on the island or to be performed elsewhere.
Raush awakens late in the morning, after the first work shift has passed. he finds a half dozen of the locals in the boathouse.
One of them, broad chested humanoid with orange skin and a goblin's ears, calls out to him. "You are Raush, yes? Do you remember me from last night?! I am Riller, a carpenter. You've missed first watch, but you look like you could use some hair of the dog. Ratek over there is about to draw a cask from the river."
Raush sees that the group has set up a game of nine pins under the shade of the roof of the boathouse.
Riller points at a kobold with red tinged scales who is drawing on a chain that disappears into the water. It would seem that they have been cooling a cask in the river.
"After the drinks, I don't half remember my own name, but any man who's offering booze is a good man in my eyes. A pleasure, Riller." says Raush gleefully, heading towards the kobold. "Ah, there's a lad who knows his trade. Let me give you a hand with the chain."
Ravenna, meanwhile, heads into the little town with a gleam in her eye and a clink in her purse - just a few coins; but if all goes well, it'll turn into something more. She keep her eyes peeled for dice, cards, cups - anything that shows a game in progress. After watching for a few rounds to see if it's rigged, she counts through her limited earnings and jumps in to the game.
"I'll play anything - mummer's hand, holdout, craps, you name it. I've got coins and I'm itching to pit them against Lady Luck. Who'll take my action?"
Veltisiel wakens early, as always, and sets off into the town, returning to the shipyard in time to see the officers gather for a game. While he almost dismisses the idea of the game, he figures he may as well join in for a single round.
"How much for a buy-in?" he asks.
Grak covers his ears at the sound of the bell. Even though it's not close, it sounds like it's ringing inside his head. He stumbles out of bed, looking for something to drink, his mouth so dry his tongue feels like sandpaper. He makes his way behind the building to the edge of the jungle to collect some herbs and then heads back to his room with a jug of water. As he's brewing up something he hopes will help with the hangover, Raush stops by. He gives the apeman a dirty look, as if it was somehow his fault for Grak drinking too much, but pours a cup for him when it is done. After a bit, he heads over to the boathouse to join the others.
"I'll pass on the drink," he says rubbing his temple. He turns to see what Ravenna is getting herself into. Knowing better than to bet against her, he goes over to watch.
Ravenna finds not much to be impressed with in the settlement. The smaller buildings are little more than huts and shacks inhabited by the unskilled laborers. Beyond the huts there is a sizable garden surrounded by fences and scarecrows. The ground seems dry and cracked, as though the typical tropical rains have not fallen.
She finds 2 half orc men, an orc woman, and a dwarf of indeterminate gender sitting beneath a canopy at a table throwing dice. These 4 were not at the Commons last night.
The dwarf looks up from the game. "Mostly here-bouts we play Blood Cove."
Play:
Each player in turn rolls the dice and continues to roll the dice and totals the numbers rolled. If a player's total goes over 9 then he is "dead" and out of the round. If a player elects to stop with a total of 9 or less then the total stands.
At the end of a round, once each player has had a turn, the player with the highest total of 9 or under, wins. In the case of equally high totals a playoff is made, with the player who tied and played last going first in the playoff round. The player who wins a round then receives a chip. The next player to the one that started the round, rolls first in the next. A number of rounds are played and the player who collects three chips first is declared the overall winner.
When played as a gambling game, each player puts a fixed amount up and the winner collects it. Sometimes a player who rolls over 9 is required to put another equal fixed amount up for the winner.
Raush moves to the chain. The kobold looks up to him appraisingly, "I'm Molb, one of the night carpenters. Those of us with darkvision gets assigned to the night shift, so we are just now getting off work. A hand with the chain would be grand. This barrel be a bitter pale ale, but it will be cold enough from the-"
Molb makes a "hurk" hoise as the chain suddenly jerks in his hand and pulls him off his feet toward the water.
"What in the-"
Raush grasps the chain instinctively, bracing with both hands against the pull...
...and gets promptly swept off his feet.
"There was no way I was getting up earlier. I could use more sleep as it is," he says to the goblin.
When the chain gets pulled he runs over to see what is going on. "We got a problem here!" he yells.
Ravenna says, "What's the stakes?" She rummages through her limited supply of silver coins. "And where you want me in the order?"
"What in the-"
Raush grasps the chain instinctively, bracing with both hands against the pull...
[dice=CMB]1d20+5
...and gets promptly swept off his feet.
Molb and Raush quickly disappear under the turgid water of the river. Here, the water is nearly 20 feet deep, and the chain draws them down, down, down.
Raush moves down the chain towards Molb, while going through the moral dilemma: should he save someone who was too weak to save himself? His general philosophy is against it, but maybe there's something to be said for fairness and playing against weaknesses. In the end he resolves to pick him up just because he offered him ale.
Raush uses his natural climbing ability to essentially climb down the chain toward the kobold. In the murky water, he finds the kobold desperately clinging to the chain. Raush wraps a large sturdy hand around the small scaly arm of the tiny dragon man.
"Come back up!" tries to say Raush, though how much is heard through the water is debatable. In any case, he pulls on the kobold to bring him back to the surface.
Ravenna notices the sudden ruckus with the barrel with some surprise, and says, "Sorry gents, something just came up!" as she pockets her silver pieces and runs toward the barrel shenanigans.
Ordrax watches as the Kobold goes into the water followed by Raush. Knowing he can do nothing at the moment he runs to the edges to see what he can do.
Well...those two are f%!#ed.
Raush bursts to the surface, climbing hand over foot, dragging the kobold by one hand. He is only 10 feet from where Ordrax stands on the dock. The chain is firmly attached to a post and doesn't seem to be going anywhere for the moment.
"Something just grabbed a barrel of bitter ale and pulled it down." says Raush, dropping the kobold he's holding next to Ordrax. "Anyone fancy takin' a look at what's under here?"
"Not personally. Spells have issues underwater. I could, however, give you a short-term air bubble if you so desire." Veltisiel offers.