Seeing Sandman's strangeness, Obadiah's owl-like behavior causes him to tilt his head further, paying attention to the mask and the powder. "Ooh! One of the indigenous...I must investigate further." The idea of speaking his thoughts aloud doesn't seem to be an unfamiliar part of the tattooed man's world. Any who are close to him notice a brilliantly colored blue bird on his wrist.
The bluebird, you know, is a symbol of the number of miles the young man has sailed. Likely around 3000, from the brightness of the colors.
Seeing the strange masked individual walk away, the tattooed one follows after him. Once the man stop, Obadiah bows to him, in a manner that really doesn't appear proper colonial or Tulitan.
"Amazingly precise work you did there. You're quite a strange one. Did you make that mask yourself? Reminds me a bit of a tree after it got hit by lightning. Made a great canoe, that tree. Covered in tar, of course, to seal in the bugs and out the water. Name's Obadiah. You two are definitely Tulita, from the looks of it, yes?"
At mention of his tribe and his family, the big shaman Port Shaw had dubbed 'Sandman' cast his eyes down. His smile washed away and he sighed.
He shakes his head at his brother's incessant questions about 'his beloved'.
When the wild-eyed man with the bird inked to his wrist came and interjected the big man nodded.
What disease does he have? Remove Disease is a 3rd level spell. We don't have access to it in this group. None of us have enough caster levels.
I have Diagnose Disease, Delay Disease and Remove Sickness (a lesser version of remove disease), but that's as good as I can do.
I figure that's about as good as I can do for him.
Morgan stops his conversation short upon Obadiah's interjection and nods a greeting to the colonial. He switches to the colonial tongue, his perfect dialect shows the tiniest hint of Tulita accent, but much more of a colonial familiarity than is usual for a Tulita.
"Well met Obadiah. Name's Hoeroa. Nice entrance you made there!" indicating with his long stemmed pipe the barrel Obadiah climbed out of.
The docks at night are a hot bed of illegal dealings. It’s a good place to buy dragonsmoke, and Tulita from the inland tribes routinely bring cages of exotic mainland animals to the docks at night. They leave each morning with empty cages. One of you overhears this from a member of the crowd, but cannot place who said it.
"An entrance? Nah, that sort of stuff happens all the time. Some Tulita man said that I'd had poison in my blood from all the tattoos."
He rolls his sleeves up, his body emphasizing the point as he has tons of tattoos that climb up his arm, down his neck, and who knows where else. Being so close to him, there's not really any smell of alcohol on him. He just seems truly crazy.
"But glad you liked it. It's an absolutely safe form of transit, as long as you're not scared of tight places, really. Kinda like that time I got buried, cause everyone thought I was dead, and not just paralyzed. Amazing what the wrong bet will do to you, though."
He stares up at the sky for a moment. "Strange place this. Good to meet you, Hoeroa. Who's your friend here?" the tattooed man points his thumb at Sandman.
He then turns to Sandman, speaking in Tulita.
"What's your name anyways?.. You're not one of those crazy shape changers or cursed by your people to forever sail the seas until you steal a hundred souls or pass out from drunkeness, whichever happens first? Cause if its the latter...well, I can find you a few barrels of beer, at a good price."
Silas roll a sense motive please
"I am many things" the big man says with a smile and a shrug, speaking in the tongue of the colonials. "As are you. We all wear many masks to cover the darker parts of ourselves."
"I simply put my darkness into a mask I can wear, rather than covering my darkness with one I cannot take off."
"It is there when I need it, and not when I don't."
"In this place, I am the Sandman."
He tilts his head, scratching what would be the top if he hadn't pulled a toucan with his inquiry.
"Well, I guess some wear masks. I wouldn't look good with one, though. Too strange. I mean, you don't see people with sailor hats and big ol' masks walking around. I mean, that'd be just crazy, really." The sailor seems oblivious to how his own words are the epitome of pot calling the kettle black.
"I'm not dark, though. Not really. I mean, unless you consider that one time I lost that contest with that one cook woman. Never anger a woman with a pot full of squid ink, by the way. It leads to bad, bad things. And stains that are difficult to get out. And phew! The smell! Let me tell you, my only friend that day was the seagulls and the first mate's parrot."
The small Tikiman on Morgan's necklace appears to be leering at Obadiah disconcertingly.
Sandman chuckles at his brother. "Your little friend seems to have found a kindred spirit."
"Why, yes he has!" replies Morgan, laughing slightly before unconsciously petting the little whale headed man-statue. The tikiman blinks for a moment and then seems to freeze, before fixing its eyes on Obadiah again.
"Ooh! I've always wanted to try this!" Obadiah seems to have an endless bag of tricks, as he tries to look very serious, looking at the statue. "Learned this from a proper physician, I did. Now,"
He raises a single finger and crouches to eye level with the tiki. "Follow the finger and don't move your head." And with that, he moves the finger horizontally, back and forth slowly, stopping only a couple of times.
The little tikiman's eyes follow Obadiah's finger dutifully, to the amusement of the Tulita.
(. )(. ) ( . )( . ) ( .)( .)
Well, it is getting late so I am going to post up a little XP
Beth approaches the group around the drugged Tulita and witnesses Sandman actions with interest.
"Sorry to interrupt", she says in accented Tulita. "I'm Beth Macara, a follower of Quell. I haven't yet been granted to power to help this man much more than you already did, but there is a chapter house at the end of the docks. If we bring him there, someone should be able to help."
Silas moves over and is interested to see the large Tulita get to work.
"I would suggest we move", he interjects in Tulita heavily accented with the coastal tints. "Your actions are likely to have attracted some attention and they don't much like Tulita around here.
He turns and starts to move down towards the chapter house.
Also as far as continuity goes
* Hoeroa and Sandman walked away from the drugged Tulita and (now joined by Obadiah) are now talking amongst one another outside a tavern.
*Sapele has dropped out of the adventure.
*Mallory is still walking on the docks.
This contrasts with Silas' and Beth's advice to Sandman - he either ignored them (graciously or not) or it didn't happen.
Perhaps Obi and Sandy, we need to wait for everyone to have a chance to post before rushing forward...
Also everyone make sure they check both the Discussion AND Gameplay thread... ;)
Silas heads to the group of three. "Is the man cured? If not then why do we not take him to the chapter house?" he says using practiced Tikaruan. "Then either the lady priest or the priest who cures the poor can help?"
As for Silas and Beth's suggestions to take the Tulita to the Chapter House, I am going to rule that the suggestions have been made, but it is now up to the party if that is the course of action they wish to take. And of course if the two to them decide to do that I won't stop them even if the others do not follow. It is not that far that the party can't join back up reasonably. Beth was supposed to go there anyway.
Mallory, please feel free to jump in at any time, but at this point I am going to move on unless there is an issue that I need to wait for.
Morgan sighs. He has seen too many of his people lost to various toxins, diseases, drugs and diseases, both of the colonials and native to the region. He stares across at the drug-addled Tulita, considering a moment, before speaking to Silas in colonial.
"I respect your concern. I do not however share it, nor have any desire to visit a house in which a god dwells. The gods do not dwell in houses... This man (indicates the drugged Tulita) he will be replaced by another come morning - he is as the tide, a wave without number."
Morgan seems to remember himself and rises from his crouch on the barrel, shifting his war oar and musket on his back as he stands.
"Forgive me my lack of compassion...and disrespect to foreign deities. (smiles) I am Hoeroa - this is Sandman and Obadiah - you are?"
Silas considers Morgan and that odd hint of colonialism on this obvious Tulita.
"Gods do not indeed dwell in houses. Men..." he pauses then glances at Beth "or women who serve gods do tend to when they are not abroad. I respect deities, because I have no wish to offend the gods whomever worships them.
He looks about to see whether they are being observed and seeing no one close enough replies," Pleased to meet you. I am Silas."
"No offense taken, Hoeroa.", she replies with a smile.
"But you are wrong on one count. He is not a drop in the ocean, to be diluted with the others. I cannot count the drops in the sea but with time, I can count every one in Port Shaw. Maybe he will fail again and smoke again tomorrow. Who knows? I cannot help every one today but I can try a step after another, just like your friend Sandman did."
So I guess it is up to you Beth as to what to do with the Tulita. The Chapter House is about three blocks north in the Tide. The tavern they are at is right on the docks.
The big Tulita nods to the woman and touches his fingers to his forehead, a sign of thanks. "I did what I could. Placing him in the care of those who's job it is to care could not hurt." With a sideways glance to his more cynical brother he says "It is true that the gods do not dwell in houses, but they sometimes dwell in people, who usually dwell in houses."
"Should you need more help, I will be near. Ask for the Sandman. The people will know."
"I respect your concern. I do not however share it, nor have any desire to visit a house in which a god dwells. The gods do not dwell in houses... This man (indicates the drugged Tulita) he will be replaced by another come morning - he is as the tide, a wave without number."
"Once when I was a child I saw my grandfather walking the shore in the morning. The tide had washed many tiny starfish onto the shore. They were countless and would die as the sun began the rise and dry them out. The gulls had already gathered to feast. My grandfather was not a healthy man, but he was stooping painfully to pick up starfish and throw them as far as he could back to the sea."
"I asked him why he did this. There were so many and he was just one man. There was no way he could save them all. No way he could make a difference."
"He picked one up, threw it back and said 'It made a difference to that one.'"
"Miss Beth is right little brother. That man is not the tide. He is the starfish."
"I asked him why he did this. There were so many and he was just one man. There was no way he could save them all. No way he could make a difference."
"He picked one up, threw it back and said 'It made a difference to that one.'"
"Miss Beth is right little brother. That man is not the tide. He is the starfish."
Beth half bows to the tulita witch-man.
"You were blessed to have such a wise ancestor, Sandman. May the tide bring you back ten times what your grandfather threw in."Taking leave of the small group, she strolls to the addled smoker and, taking him by the arm, coaxes him towards the Chapter House, taking to him in tulita: "You need more help. Come with me, I can take you to the Chapter House where some one may look after you."
Over her shoulder, she adds to Silas in colonial: "Care to give a hand?"
"Perhaps you are right, big brother".
Morgan watches the cleric take the Tulita to the chapterhouse.
"Either that, or the old man hurt his back from picking up too many starfish...which made a difference to him."
(oops, I got the directions messed up, sorry. The chapter house is west not north of the docks)
Located on the thoroughfare dividing north Tide from east Silk, the Chapterhouse once served as the heart and soul of Port Shaw. People citywide made the journey each day to worship at Quell’s altar. Fisher folk prayed for the bounty of the sea, captains for a peaceful voyage and simple folk for Quell to keep the great waves and monsoons from their shores. Now the Church mourns, a shell of its former glory.
The house has only recently been reopened for services and most are the poor and the down-trodden.
Welcome sister to the House of Quell. Come, bring in this man so I may take a look at him. I am Zalen Trafalgar. You are all welcome here.
"Thank you brother, may your hearth be always warm and welcoming. I'm Beth Macara. I just docked today and was supposed to bring dispatches and requests to your predecessor. I guess they are for you now.", says Beth, presenting her mail bag.
"As for this poor guy, I found it on the docks. He is deeply intoxicated by dragonsmoke and one of his fellow tribesman was trying to help him with an interesting combination of spells. That does not seem to be enough and I cannot do much more, so I brought him here."
Mallory finally strolled off the dock, feeling more defeated than she'd ever admit. Noticing some commotion arising on account of a Tulita, she shook her head and moved in the other direction. 'Definitely not getting involved in that.' She thought as she moved past. How could she possibly think of staying in a place like this? What did she have in common with them? With anyone?
Moving through the sandy streets, she arrived at another familiar location: The Run Aground Tavern. Most of the patrons were on the bad side of poverty but, well, she wasn't doing so hot either. She'd lost her ship. And her savings wouldn't last forever. Still, they'd managed to reach something of an unspoken agreement after she broke a beggar's fingers. No one asked her for money or sex, and she did her best not to injure anyone.
She'd felt a bit bad afterwards for it. Not for the transient as much as Finney, the owner. Sweet old dwarf who just wanted to help people. She'd agreed, reluctantly, to drag out her old violin and play a few tunes once every few weeks. Old man said he figured it made them feel better. Mallory didn't care much about that, but she did like seeing the glint in his eye and grin on his face.
Ducking inside, Mallory dropped down at the bar and promptly had a glass from Finney's personal whiskey stash placed in front of her. She grinned and dropped more gold coins than it was worth on the table. "How's the world, Fin?"
Zalen casts remove disease on the Tulita and instructs one of the nurses to get him some food and a bed for the night.
Thank-you Sister Macara, I will read this dispatches later, although they appear to have been yes for Noeliss. His disappearance several months ago has cause much consternation back in the mainland and I have been sent to find out what has happened to him. I am also authorized to pay a reward for any information in that regard.
Meanwhile, back at The Runaround Tavern, "Mallory! Good to see your smiling face around here! We missed you and yer fiddle. Give ole Fin a hug will ya! You plannin' on paying off the Major's tab with this tip?"
My apologies, but I have a funeral service I must perform.
Silas nods his respect to the three and heads with Beth to help carry the drug riddled Tulia.
As they enter the chapterhouse he stands up properly, pulls down his scarf and offers proper respect.
Quietly standing to one side he watches as the cleric adminsters to the man, his ears pricking up at the disappearance of the predecessor. Noting the other duty Zalen is about to pursue, Silas pipes up, "Would it be possible to talk to you later as may be able to help with the investigation?"
Silas turns to Beth. "If you're happy to leave the man here we could head back to the tavern whilst we wait for Brother Trafalgar."
"Of course, this should only take a few hours. Shall me make an appointment for say 1:00?
Silas nods. "That's fine by me," then looks to Beth for her opinion.
Not a lot is know about Zalen Trafalgar as he only arrived recently except for the fact that is the son of Solomon Trafalgar, a chosen paladin of Quell and the heart and soul of the Wave Riders, who fell in a massacre and crushed to death by Harthagoa, the krakenfiend.
Mallory gave the dwarf a big hug before sitting back down. 'See, you're already getting comfortable here.' She told herself. 'Who was the last person you hugged before Fin? And how many years ago was that?'
She nodded to the money with a grin. "His, mine, whoevers. Whatever it takes to keep this place open, and that smile on yer face."
Trying not to let her face fall too badly, she sat back down and looked at her whiskey. "Still no luck findin' a decent ship." She said. "Only a matter of time 'fore I run out of coin. Reckon I'll need to find work soon. You hear of anything might suit me?"
"Captain Riggs of the The Sealord’s Blessing stopped in a day or so ago looking for adventuring types. Even tried to recruit the Major here. Seemed rather desperate to me. You could always check with Montgomery and see if he has anything going, but one never knows if he is sober or not these days."
[dice=Knowledge local]1d20 + 11
Silas nods. "That's fine by me," then looks to Beth for her opinion.
"We'll be there. And if you need any help for the chapter house, I will do my best to assist you."
Taking her leave of the head priest, she leaves the house with Silas. "Tell me, you seem to be a man of resources. You seem to pick up thinks faster than they fly. Do you want to go back to the docks or explore this town some more?"
Stepping out of the Chapter House you observe the following about 2 blocks to your left:
Not far down the lane, a band of hardened adventurers purchase scrolls from a shifty-looking, half-elf magic hawker. The wizard of the party scrutinizes one sheaf of rune-inscribed parchment dubiously before casting a distrustful glance towards the vendor. The sound of laughter directly above them reveals dirty orphan children frolicking amongst old rigging stretched between wooden rooftops. A hail of rotten fruit pelts the adventurers from above, and the malign little urchins shriek harpy-like with delight.
Stormshield Dragoons patrol the dockside. Fishmongers and workers scatter to let the blue-coated men-at-arms pass. While a well-greased palm coaxes them to look the other way, Dragoons tolerate no disrespect and punish offenders with extreme prejudice. The wide berth locals give them lends credence to their reputation. If tales be true, Commandant Gregory Bonedeuce hangs miscreants at whim in Port Shaw.
'Hardly know whether I'm sober or not these days.' She thought in response. "Riggs? Ain't heard of him. Desperate, huh? Wonder what he's after." Mallory thanked him for the tip and downed her drink. "Gonna go see the Cap'n, learn what kinda man he is. Don't you worry none, I'll be back for fiddlin' later tonight."
Mallory strutted out of the bar heading back for the dock, wondering why 'The Sealord's Blessing' didn't ring any bells. She wasn't looking for anything remarkable. Any good pirate knows you don't want your ship to stand out too much. Makes it just as much harder to run as it does harder to surprise. More than like, she hadn't noticed it because it was in disrepair and barely held together, like a lot of other ships. Like her old ship. Of course the other explanation, she knew, was that she hadn't even been paying attention to the ships that morning.
'Time to see if I was missin' something worth seein'.