Jasper shrugs. "I like clams. Throw in some bread."
Good sir by all the gods. I WILL have that drink. Barkeep, two of the Nelson's Folly if you please. Uriah reaches into his lightening purse and pulls out a gold coin and slaps it on the counter.
Now, tell me about these rakes which caused you such distress.
The former Dragoon pivots to face Uriah, nearly falling from his stool as he does so. He regains his composure - what little is left of it - and eagerly accepts the drink. He takes a long pull on it before indulging his new drinking partner, raising his voice so that he is easily heard by all in the room. "Framed!" he begins. "Framed for colluding with dealers of dragonsmoke! For filling the streets with the vile poison." He slumps again at his stool. "I'd just made Major, you know? I was moving up." He whirls back around, thrusting one shaking finger into Uriah's face as he slurs and shouts. "But no small of number of my former comrades are, to put it mildly, bloody bent! I thought I could change it, bring honor to the post and to the uniform, but I suppose that's naught but dreams, eh? Might as well be on the smoke myself for how deluded I was. That brute Darenar found a bit of the stuff in my lockbox, as well as a smuggler's manifest." He begins to grow hysterical. "As if I would have anything to do with Bonegnaw or any of those poison-pushers! What was Darenar doing in my effects anywyas? Eh? I ask you that! Like as not it was he who planted it."
He spits on the already damp floor, slamming his mug onto the bartop and throwing his arms into the air. "No, my friend, there is no honor among the Dragoons, save for amongst Commander Perin's men, but he is only one captain, one ship. If he couldn't change things, I don't know why I ever thought I could. And here I am now," he sweeps his arms towards the tiny room. "Drunk, destitute, and sharing my woes with strangers, wash-outs, and gamblers."
"I could go for some clams or fish." Nini muses as she pulls up a chair to the table Diana claimed. Looking around and realizing that the tavern is rather empty, she also retrieves a spare chair for Zivvy to climb untop. "Some work is never dull - but if we are going aboard a ship, it better be loaded with something more then stale bread and dry fish!" The gnome shudders, remembering the poor diet offered on her trip to port Shaw. Leaning in closer, she follows Dianas gaze and discretely asks her "Whom is that anyway? Looks like he has seen better days..."
The former Dragoon pivots to face Uriah, nearly falling from his stool as he does so. He regains his composure - what little is left of it - and eagerly accepts the drink. He takes a long pull on it before indulging his new drinking partner, raising his voice so that he is easily heard by all in the room. "Framed!" he begins. "Framed for colluding with dealers of dragonsmoke! For filling the streets with the vile poison." He slumps again at his stool. "I'd just made Major, you know? I was moving up." He whirls back around, thrusting one shaking finger into Uriah's face as he slurs and shouts. "But no small of number of my former comrades are, to put it mildly, bloody bent! I thought I could change it, bring honor to the post and to the uniform, but I suppose that's naught but dreams, eh? Might as well be on the smoke myself for how deluded I was. That brute Darenar found a bit of the stuff in my lockbox, as well as a smuggler's manifest." He begins to grow hysterical. "As if I would have anything to do with Bonegnaw or any of those poison-pushers! What was Darenar doing in my effects anywyas? Eh? I ask you that! Like as not it was he who planted it."
He spits on the already damp floor, slamming his mug onto the bartop and throwing his arms into the air. "No, my friend, there is no honor among the Dragoons, save for amongst Commander Perin's men, but he is only one captain, one ship. If he couldn't change things, I don't know why I ever thought I could. And here I am now," he sweeps his arms towards the tiny room. "Drunk, destitute, and sharing my woes with strangers, wash-outs, and gamblers."
Uriah laughs like a man who understands perfectly I happen to be all three of those! Uriah Lewis, former Captain of the Sea Whore's Bastard, current captain of....well nothing actually. Pleased to meet someone as desperate as myself! Uriah says as he offers the man his hand. I've had a few....encounters with the Dragoons myself. Can't say it was pleasant...for anyone involved
Jasper hands Nini his fork so she can enjoy some of his clams.
"Ets better with meh fingers anywee. Get te lick 'em clean later!" he offers with a grin.
As he eats he cocks his ear to listen in on the ex-major speaking with Uriah. His expression grows darker and darker as it goes on.
"Bastards. Bonegnaw's a right monster, like as not responsible for leavin' our friend out there in his confused state. If I could get my hands on that bloody rat, I'd kill 'im with 'is own product. Then I'd dump the lot in the damn bay. His bloody pipes enslave men just as sure as the rich prigs on the plantations."
With a sigh he grabs a handful of clams and shoves them in his mouth. This doesn't stop him from adding, "Et doesn't hurt that Bonegnaw's got himself a right fortune from sellin' his bloody smoke, ye know. And he wouldn't be needin' et after he was cut loose from the mortal coil."
Diana listens to the table talk, trying to catch what Uriah and his new friend are saying.
Looking over at the older dark-skinned man with his gray hair pulled into dozens of small braids she asks quietly I know that one from somewhere. Can't place him, but get the feeling that he is important. Anyone know him?
Offering Diana a strip of fried clam, Jasper shakes his head. "I dinnae know 'im. 'spite of me livin' here fer 10 years, I've never been much fer the local gossip."
Nini happily accept Jaspers offer and snatches a few clams. "No clue about that one - I just dropped in here, remember?" She grins and turns back to the dwarf and gives him a confused look "Bonegnaw? - sounds like a dog or something ..."
Jasper offers a grim smile as he replies. "Aye. Anyone what peddles in Dragonsmoke be a dog. 'e aught to be put down like a common cur, but 'e's got half the dragoons sniffin after 'is 'andouts. That er they're all more incompetent than a damn sahuagan prostitute!"
Realizing he got a bit caught up, he blushes. "Er, not that you or I would know nothin' about prostitutes, sahuagan er otherwise. Of course."
He takes a long, long pull on his drink.
"A bar? Now we're talkin." The ranger follows the others into the tavern and looks around. Not like the stories I've heard, the better taverns must be further from the docks.
"Dragon smoke, drunk dragoons, and Bonegnaw. Where are the scantly clad ladies and umbrella drinks and what the hell is a Sahuagan?"
At the bar, Roland is reeling from alcohol - it's actually quite impressive that he's managed to get this drunk before noon. He reaches out to clap Uriah on the shoulder, but misses and simply swats the air next to him. "Careful, my friend. The dragoons may hopelessly corrupt, but they can make life in Port Shaw hell for anyone who ruffles them too much. Good to meet a kindred spirit though - I would hate to see you spit upon a dragoon's blade! If you ever find yourself in need of a drinking companion, you can find me here."
Back at the table, the dwarven proprietor is refilling mugs and cannot help but overhearing your conversation. "Actually, master dwarf, word on the street is that the dragoons would love to see Bonegnaw hanging from a gibbet. I'm sure they have a few dragon chasers in their ranks, but the stuff is highly illegal, and they've been trying to shut it down here. Bonegnaw is just cleverer than your average crook, I'd wager. Keeps his head down and goes through his lackies. I'd be careful of crossing him, where I you." He pauses momentarily, considering his own words. "Though you do look like a capable bunch, and none of you sound overly fond of the stuff. They say that the pedlars are most active at night, usually here in Tide - and the dragoons tend not to get involved in incidents that don't involve those they favor."
The dwarf turns and begins to walk back to the bar, but stops and fidgets for a moment as he stares at you, seeming to size you up a bit. "Look, you seem like a decent bunch. I have a package I need delivered to the Chapel of Quell, and it sounds like you're looking for work. Folks are getting desperate here in Tide, and my last courier found himself waylaid by the Salty Dogs gang. It ain't much, but if you want to make one run over there per week, I can spot ya 25 crown apiece. Might meet some people in the process that could open doors for other opportunities."/
Diana finishes her beer as she regards the dwarf. Aye, we are looking for work. And we will take your coin for this errand, or at least I will. She pauses to look at her new friends around her before asking. But that is a tidy sum for a delivery. I'll not ask what it is I am deliverin, but will ask if its legal. I'd need to know if it were contraband of some sort.
Jasper looks up at the ceiling and considers the offer, chewing on the last of his clam. Finally he nods. "Falgor, after such a lovely brunch, I cannae deny you. I'm fer deliverin' yer package."
"On the subject of Mister Bonegnaw... the dragoons wouldn't be keen enough on hangin' 'im to offer a reward now, would they?"
There's no disguising the glint of dwarven greed in Jasper's eye as he finishes off his drink.
"Like the lady said, as long as it is not illegal, or er...really illegal."
The dwarf lowers his voice. "Aye, it's legal. It's just an attractive mark for gangs. I like to go pearl diving weekends. Brings in a bit of extra gold, and the temple uses the pearls in some of the rituals and services. I'd not call myself a saint, but I do what I can. Each month I try to donate a portion of what I collect from the ocean floor. It comes from Quell's bounty, after all, so I figure I out to give a bit back." He steps back and speak at his usual volume. "And as far as Bonegnaw goes, there's no official bounty on him, but I'm sure that the Dragoons would be grateful, especially if you can make a few friends in their ranks and suggest your services might be for sale first."
Uriah grins at his new friend Roland before taking his leave Well friend, it was a pleasure to have met someone as drunker than me by midday. I'm sure we will be seeing each other again. With that said Uriah goes to sit with the lovely Diana et al.
Uriah takes a clam out of the pot and gives Jasper a wink before saying Come now Master Mac'Olaf we both know your reputation with....port ladies.
Remembering the desperate state of his purse Uriah cannot help but be compelled to accept the Bartender's offer, perhaps he knows said Barkeep.
Leaning in closer to Uriah Diana asks Say, would you happen to know who that person is over there? She indicates the older man, dark-skinned and with his gray hair pulled into dozens of small braids.
Why yes I do recognize yonder fellow. His name is Brim, Xander Brim, and he is an old adventurer. Fell out with his crew after their fight with the Krakenfiend. Developed a reputation for being a has been... I wouldn't cross him though, might turn you into something far less pleasant. Uriah says with a wink and a roguish grin.
Nini absent-mindedly nods in agreement with the others. She didn't mind making a delivery run, but neither did the thought hold much interest. Gangs usually weren't that exciting... But when she hears exactly what they are supposed to carry her attention snaps back instantly.
"Ooooh! You fish for pearls? They are soooo beautiful!" whispers the Gnome and looks to the barkeep in awe. "Could I have one as payment instead, pretty please mister Barkeep?" She grins and stares at him in wonder, missing the rest of the information about Bonegnaw. Luckily, Zivvy is paying attention as always, and he makes a note in case they decide to pursue that particular route.
When Uriah returns to the table and starts to talk about this old adventurer, she still has a stupid smile on her face. Nevertheless, she manages to pay attention - old adventurers usually had stories - and stories were fun! "You think he would polymorph me into a squirrel or something if I went over and asked for a tale?" she asks, mostly in jest. "I mean, it sounds like they did plenty of things before the squid ruined it all. Besides, what's a Krakenfiend anyways?"
Not waiting for an answer the Gnome carries on "An ordinary squid can be quite dangerous (and delicious) depending on size, but I guess this one went far beyond ?"
Jasper's face flushes at the mention of "port ladies," but his eyes light up and he looks over at Xander Brim. "Xander Brim, I'll be damned!"
After indelicately licking each of his fingers, he pushes back the plate. "Alright, weel, I'm ready when 'er the rest of you lot are. No time like the present."
"Yeah a few gold never hurt. Some of those rum runners were pretty good at dice."
Seeing as her new companions were eager to get moving, Nini made a mental note to pester Xander to tell her a tale of his adventures later. Perhaps after they returned ! She looked to the dwarf and grinned "I like the present - but I'm fairly certain the future will be fun too! Even the past is not always dull..." She glances at the mage one more time. "But unless there is anything else - let's go!"
As the group prepares to depart, package in hand (?) and directions received (?) Diana excuses herself for a moment. She walks over to the table where the older dark-skinned man, smoking a hookah sits. Clearing her throat as she approaches she ask. You are Xander Brim? Might I have a word?
The barkeep hands you a package, promising you payment upon return, contingent on proof of delivery. Giving you directions to the Chapel, he goes back to wiping down glasses.
The old wizard looks up at Diana as you are on your way out, regarding the lot of you with calculating eyes as he takes a long draw on the hookah. "That depends," he responds in a deep, authoritative voice. "If you wish to to be regaled with tales of a heroic tragedy, I have no time for groupies, and you would be better served by Belok or the former Captain Montgomery. If you are looking to hire out my services, we may discuss price."
Unsure if he is trying to get rid of her, or perhaps screening to make sure his time is not wasted, Diana consider both is words and body language.
I make my own tails Mr. Brim. I need no one to spin them for me. But I may some day need your services and did not want to miss the chance to introduce myself a great man. I am Diana Seamyst. If I do need you, should I look for you here, or do you have a preferred address where I should inquire? I also thought it possible that at some point in the future you might have need of a group like ours? It may be that we could do favors for each other. At one tine you did great things Xander Brim. Has that time passed? Or do you still stir the workings of this port? Perhaps we could be of service to each other...?
Nini glances over at Diana and the mage. Her expression saddens a bit when Brim expresses his reluctance to tell stories but she quickly makes a note to look around for Belok or Cpt. Montgomery. They atleast sounds willing to share a tale or two... When they are outside again she looks to the spot where the Dragon Smoke addict was when they left him, looking to see if he moved or perhaps even got his senses back!
Xander Brim puffs for a moment on the hookah as he holds you in his gaze, pondering. He rises up in his seat as he exhales, and, for a moment, through the smoke, the gleam in his eyes makes you forget about his threadbare robes and his few pieces of tarnished jewelry. Something, just for an instant, is different about his posture, about the way he carries himself. Resigned aloofness briefly changes to a practiced confidence, and a touch of admiration, as he hears your words. He nods, the smoke clears, and he is back to the worn-out mage you saw before you moments ago. He nods, though, and then responds. "You have manners, young lady - a precious possession that is difficult to come by in Port Shaw. Yes, if you have need of my services, you may often find me here, and my rates are fair. If we find occasion to work together, and you are as skilled as you are courteous, we may come to some sort of consistent working relationship. However, I believe you are falling behind your friends." He gestures to the others who are heading out of the door.
Leaving the Run Aground Tavern Behind you, you set out towards the Chapel of Quell, which rests on the northern border of Tide, just before you enter the Silk District. Before you are halfway there, though, you hear manic warnings being shouted in broken Common.
An old Tullita man stands atop a short stack of crates, preaching to passerby in a strained, rasping voice. "You foreigners anger sea! You murder the watchers with your harpoons! You skin them for your oil, but soon, all gone. None left! Without them, Dajobas rise again! His servants come from the deep to kill you! Dajobas kill you for crimes against the Old Ways. He tear you with teeth like swords. He spills your blood into sea. He grinds your bones beneath the moon!"
The outburst attracts the attention of not only several bystanders, but of a small patrol of dragoons led by a mountain of a man with a neatly trimmed black mustache. He points at the old man, shouting. "You there, off the crate or I'll take my hammer to ye!" To emphasize, he pats the rune-carved warhammer resting at his belt, probably the finest weapon you have seen a dragoon carrying since you arrived.
The old man's eyes take a moment to focus on the man, and then they grow as wide as saucers. He fumbles at his effects, producing an ornate scrimshaw knife and leaping from the crate. Immediately, the dragoons lay their hands on their weapons. "You bear the kiss of Dajobas!" the old Tullita says, worry tinging his voice. "I will save you!"
He lunges towards the large dragoon, who takes a swing at the old man with a meaty fist, but his target bobs out of the way, the feathers on his headdress swaying wildly as he dances about with his knife. The large man pulls out his hammer, his three companions draw their swords, and it seems that an old man is about to die.
Oh hell. Why does this happen in front of me? Uriah says as he charges the old man, intent on tackling him to the ground before he gets put down like a dog.
Edit: forgot about init
A look of horror twists Jasper's face. He rushes forward to grab the old man and get him to safety.
"By Pele, you old coot, get away from 'em! Ya damn fool, they don't care about Dajobas or kisses. They're jus' keen to kill 'emselves a crazy Tullita!"
The old man bowls over as Uriah barrels into him, the two of them tumbling to the ground, and his knife falls into the dirt. He begins struggling, trying to free himself as he continues to stare at the large dragoon. "You not understand! he implores, "Big man touched with Kiss! Must make him better!"
The dragoons are momentarily stunned, unsure of exactly who you are trying to assist, but after a moment, they lower their weapons, one of them snatches up the scrimshaw knife, and the large one steps forward. "Good assist, citizen, but we'll handle this. Got ourselves a dangerous Tullita here, we'll have to take him in for attempting to murder a Municipal Dragoon."
"Eh, 'e's not dangerous. Jus' crazy. I know one'ae their shaymans, 'e'll make sure this ol' codger dinnae run wil' on the docks n'more."
The large dragoon's false smile quickly fades and he takes a step forward, looming over Jasper. One of his men produces a set of manacles. "He just tried to cut me, and before that he was tossin' about threats about monsters from the deep. We're taking him in."
Diana tries to talk some sense into the Dragoons.
Wait a moment. I know it looked like he was about to attack. But this crazy Tullita thought your man ill, and was going to try to help him. He is really no danger. And I think we can help him, if you will let us. Why not let us deal with this crazy local so that you can continue with your much more important work? If we can't straiten him out we will bring him in ourselves.
Nini merely has time to blink at the scene unfolds. By the time she has made it over to the men tumbling around in the dirt the Dragoon has already stated his intention. "Dajobas kiss? Eh ..." The gnome steps up close to the large dragoon, looking up at his face. "I'm sure he's just confused. I mean - come on, you don't think he could have hurt you with that flimsy knife - do you ?" She points to the knife and shakes her head before the dragoons have time to respond. "Nope. Didn't think so! I mean, a big guy like you ? Would probably need a ballista - or a cannon!" She nods expertly, signalling that the matter is clear. The man couldn't have tried to murder the dragoon, since his weapon was too small. Obviously!
Jasper blinks.
"Ye lasses'r ... uhm... prettay good."
The dragoon sergeant considers your words for a moment, brushing his mustache lightly with one index finger. A smile spreads across his face as he seems to get an idea. "Our work is to defend the citizens of Port Shaw from dangerous and unstable people, punish the guilty, and make sure that these savages know their place. He pulled a knife on us..." He looks back to the dragoon who picked up the skrimshaw dagger. "However, I suppose he is just a feeble old man, and not altogether there, AND we've got his weapon now. He may not be altogether there, but he'll still have to be punished so's he knows not to repeat his actions." The Tullita man is beginning to look afraid, and has stopped struggling for the moment. The sergeant "absently" pats the pouch at his belt, which jingles with the weight of coins. "Though I suppose some other form of restitution could be made, one that sees wronged parties made whole and that old coot never stepping onto the docks again."
Uriah growls deep in his chest at such a brazen display of corruption.
Jasper steps over to Diana and whispers in her ear.
"I 'on't mind payin' a bribe te this bastard te save the ol' man's life, but ye better do the negotiatin'. I'm not the best at this kinnae thing."
Fair enough good sergeant. But you do already have the blade, and that scrimshaw work looks valuable to me. The loss of the blade is both punishment to the old man, for whom its value represents quite a sum, and to yourself as I suspect it would fetch a tidy sum to a collector of authentic native art. Its ll the rage these days I hear. And you have my word that we will make sure he is no threat to the citizens of Port Shaw. If its cash you are wanting, why I'd give you 10 gold for that blade now, but I suspect a real collector would pay considerably more…
Ilorian stands back and watches, his normal lopsided grin replaced with a frown.
"This blade does not return to his hands, but I believe that if the old man, or someone close to him, were to pay, say, 50 crowns in damages, he'd be allowed to walk away from this."
Uriah grinds his teeth with rage.....
The gnome follows the exchange with interest. Local customs are always so exciting to observe ! And it seemed that the law here worked as advertised - by foul-mouthed sailors, that was. And thus, when the gnome heard a number mentioned, she knew they were in the clear. All that remained was to change that number. With an oblivious smile she looked up at the large dragoon. "Well certainly! Damages must be paid ... But paperwork and procedure is soooo boring, can't we - say hypothetically - give you thirty crowns in hand, and skip that ?"
Jasper crouches down next to the old man while the girls negotiate with the bully. He leans in and whispers in Tullita. <<"Are you in good enough shape to run? If the negotiation turns sour, I'd hate for you to be stuck with these animals. Is there a place you could hide? You didn't actually hurt anyone, so I doubt they'd put much effort into a chase.">>
He beckons Uriah over and whispers in common: "I know it's been a weel since ye captain'd a ship, but 'ow are ye with a canoe?"
Uriah gives a small shrug and responds in Tulita I can manage one.