The Sealord’s Blessing is a 90-foot-long caravel with two masts and a complement of 45-plus sailors. The main sail is large and square. The mizzen is triangular (or lateen). Further, a foresail juts from the ship’s bow off an angled bowsprit. She looks in excellent shape and if not for the large hold a fast ship.
Captain Riggs is cordial and asks if you think you could find at least three more to sign up for the journey as he is in need of security for the voyage. He weaves a tale of backstabbing trade partners, increasing piracy, and dangerous waters.
Morgan watches the blue coated Dragoons pass with interest, noting their effect on the townspeople and the general relief that follows in their wake.
"Island time" passes slowly for the Tulita as the brothers trade information and jests and the incessant and busy colonials pass about on this or that errand.
The Bluecoats take more than a passing interest of Morgan and Sandman seeing two Tulita bearing assorted weapons in the city. They make observation of you and move on down the docks.
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?"
Silas has walked out and stands up properly giving a different feel to his stance. The scarf is pushed down, the cloak open rather than pulled around him.
"I haven't been in Port Shaw properly for some time so I'm happy to go wherever. I just figured if we wanted to make sure we came back to see Zalen then we may wish to stick to the docks. I could probably do with finding some work as well." He pauses for a moment. "You know that his father was the leader of the Wave Riders right?"
"Good points, let's go back to the docks for now. And I have absolutely no idea who the Waves Riders are. It's the first time I've set foot here."
"Well there was the one tavern. Might be able to ask around and get some lay of the land."
This ramshackle little cabin of a tavern, right on Pier 22 in Tide District, is a haven for the many downtrodden, good-hearted folk of Port Shaw. A kindly old dwarf tends bar here.
"Welcome to The Run Aground Tavern. Name's Falgor Finney and I run this establishment. Can I offer you folk and ale or a cup of stew?"
The customers include mostly poor fisherman with a few notable exceptions. Sitting across from Finney is a woman in an old Naval Dress uniform that appears a bit more well off than most here. Another gentleman in an old tattered Dragoon uniform sits at a table in the back. His patches and rank emblems have been removed and he wears and empty scabbard.
While Mallory isn't particularly impressed with Riggs, he seemed nice enough. Harmless was the word that came to mind. Still, it was something, and she knew she couldn't afford to be picky.
It didn't escape her attention that she needed three more than she had, and no one in mind. She could certainly pick up some "driftwood", as they were known, from Finney's, but she'd rather have someone she could trust. The open sea and acts of piracy were dangerous enough without having to question loyalty.
Still, Finney's might be a good place to check out anyway, if for no other reason than she was curious why the Major turned him down. Besides, she'd be needing to go back to play before long anyhow.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a majestic blend of blue and green feathers flashed as Rhys, Charlotte's parrot, dropped onto her shoulder and began preening himself. "Well well, where you been?" she questioned. "Scouted the boat." He squawked. "Fine ship. Looks fast."
She nodded, already walking back towards the tavern, wondering if it was fast enough.
"Thanks for the welcome Finney.I'll go for an ale. And may the father of all storms protect your house.", she adds her fingers taking the form of the open clam of Quell's priests' blessing.
"I'm Beth Maccara.", she continues, her eyes setting on both unusual customers. "I happen to be new in town, what can you tell me about things to look for or avoid?"
You win points, just for the Prince Poppycock reference. You just win.
"Thieves, pirates, miscreants and especially the Dragoons! Since they fired the Major here I don't trust the lot of 'em!" As he gestures at the man in the tattered uniform.
"Been quite awhile since anyone from the Chapter House has come down here to give us a blessing! It is most welcome. Not since the Kraken broke the back of the Wave Riders has anyone dared stand up to much around here.
People know of the Kraken, but not his demonic heritage. While no one has sighted the Kraken for many years, and some take that as proof he died breaking the Wave Riders, most Rumor of a dark power that kills those foolish enough to venture too far past Darkol Island and Halgrin’s Rest. Moreover, they are angry about the impact on shipping, and how ships vanishing on the Razor Sea drives up the price of whale oil and commodities from the far continent.
Now Mallory here, she's a good egg! She always gives more than she can afford and comes in once in awhile when she is in port and plays for us!"
KRAKEN!!! the sleeping tattooed man suddenly yells out from one of the corner tables, the mention of the beastie waking him from seemingly drunken slumber. His sudden awakening from sleep causes the tricorne so precariously balanced on his noggin to begin to tumble off.
Of course, this leads the young man to tumble back in his chair as the hat bobbles back and forth between his hands. Obviously Obi is not very coordinated when he first wakes up, as his loss of balance caused him to fall back, with both boots hitting the bottom of the table.
The table goes on its side, while he ends up on his back. For a moment, it looks like he might have cracked his skull and gone unconscious. Or be dead. But after a moment, his arm shoots up and the nearby patrons can see he has ahold of his hat. "No cause for alarm, ladies and gents! My hat is ok!"
Fin thinks to himself,"Fin maybe you shouldn't tell 'em about the shark!"
Morgan sahadows his eyes with a weater beaten hand to see the Dragoons disappear down the ranshackle street. He makes his customary sigh and smiles to his giant brother, tapping Sandman on the knee.
"I'll ask around in this alehouse about Maht. Perhaps there are tales of other islands fallen to the foul stuff."
Morgan enters the Run Aground in time to hear Fin indicating the recently fired Major. The Tulita ponders for a moment and approaches the former Dragoon, nodding a hello.
"Major, name's Hoeroa. Mind if I join you?"
Morgan's introduction is immediately disturbed by Obi's performance, causing him to turn and miss the Major's reply.
Silas listens and smiles to Fin. "Oh you have music around here? I was wondering where the good spots in town to play?"
He pauses then backtracks at the talk of the Kraken. There's a flicker then his composure is regained. "Don't get dragged in. Opportunity to be had. Don't be a hero" he thinks to himself.
Mallory nods to the newcomers, and smiles at the thin slouching man. "This here be the best spot to play." She reached into her bag pulling out a beautifully carved violin. With a bit of challenge in her voice, she continues "Crowd should be floodin' in soon with the tide. Was about to play a set if you'd care to join?"
Silas looks up at the new voice and smiles. "Haven't played alongside with anyone for a while, but I would be glad to."
He rummages in his bag, opening something else, then produces a finely kept and crafted Kit Fiddle. Shrugging off his cloak he starts tuning up.
Obi's performance causes the major to jump to his feet as his hand reaches for his empty scabbard momentarily forgetting himself. Regaining his composure, he turns to Hoeroa "Ronald Lawrence, have a seat. I would offer you a drink, but my purse is a bit thin these days."
Mallory, you and Silas play for the lunch crowd which causes Fin to be huffing and puffing trying to serve the unusually large crowd! After playing your set Beth mentions it is time to return to the Chapter House to meet with Zalen Trafalgar.
Silas nods to Mallory. "A pleasure. I have an appointment we must keep. Unless you're at a loose end as well.
Before the performance starts, Beth has just the time to add one last question to Fin. "I've heard of those Wave Riders a few time already today. Are they all deceased like their leader or did some of them escape?"
Then, laying back in her chair, she order a lunch and enjoys the perofrmance of the two musicians while keeping an eye on the crowd around her for ill intended people.
Once they are done, she stands up, dusts her clothes and goes to congratulate the musicians. "Silas, that was an impressive performance but we are expected back just about now."
Raising her hat to Mallory, she adds: "Obviously, yours was as good, Ma'am Mallory."
"The Wave Riders? They are still alive, not so well I am afraid. Two of them are some of my best customers! Brim is here from time to time and Mallory knows the Captain. Heard Belok is fighting down at the Skull these days. No one has heard much of Jalia. Then there's that turn cloak Chambers, working for them Dragoons."
Obi meanders his way over to the trio, apparently well awake now and definitely not drunk, from the active look to his eyes. "You all play really well. Definitely no mutinies if you all were part of a crew."
On the pier, you note a collection of salty sea dogs gathered around in taut debate over the recent sightings (and bitings) of a mysterious jet-black shark.
Anglers by trade since their long-spent youth, now worn by the waves, a gaggle of grizzled men sit hunkered down on the docks by the gangplank of an old barnacle-crusted fishing sloop. A dozen old men, sprinkled with a few younger fisher folk, huddle around a pale-faced man of forty or so winters. His eyes quaver and his lips tremble as he launches into his tale:
“We’s a ways out. Making hard time. The wind was against us see, and we’d just passed Beacon Island by the bloody settlin’ in o’ dusk. That’s when the sloop gave a mighty lurch. We hit something, so the captain thought at first, but no... it felt like somethin’, well, like somethin’ hit us. Then the sloop rocked again and the cap’n feared we’d run upon the shoals, but before he could snap an order somethin’ slammed our port side hard. The captain lost his footin’ and tumbled into the deep. That’s when I saw it, I did. Blacker than the darkness, blacker than the night’s water around us...”
“Ain’t no such thing...as a black shark!” A young man on the edge of the crowd snaps.
“Night black it were! These eyes been at crow’s nest for thirty years!” The old man snarls in retort.
“Thirty years ago t’were sharp is sure, but not so now you old sea dog. Sun on the water burned out your eyes years ago.” A few laughs answer this retort, but no real mirth flows from them.
“Batten yer hatch. What’s a guppy like yerself know from sharks? It were blacker than the heart of midnight.”
“There be no such thing!” insists the youngster. A voice, like a knife across a stone, cuts the air: “There be a black shark.” The crowd parts to reveal an ancient man of the sea. His leathery skin stretched over his bones, he raises his right arm to silence the boy’s reply. The arm ends in a cold black iron hook. The old man’s one good hand clutches a wooden crutch, supporting his wracked frame. His leather breeches are cut off at the knees and two gnarled wooden pegs, chipped and scratched from wear, extend from the stumps of what remains of his legs. “There be a black shark.” His voice rasps once more.
A thick silence settles over the crowd then; no one wants to debate the shark’s existence any more. One of the younger fishermen even hazards a glance off the pier as if he expects a dark fin to crest the waves at any moment. With muttered excuses and leave-takings the crowd of fishermen breaks up, leaving the old man alone on the pier, his back to the dock, staring across the roiling sea.
Morgan sits down and very circumspectly passes Ronald a full gold piece under a flat hand. He then sits back and listens to the skirling music, trying hard not to be transported to another life, another way of being - where salt and spray were the order of a long day hard against the wind, and his fellows were just as hard again. He smiles vaguely and catches himself. Once the music ends he turns to the ex-Dragoon leader.
"Well met Master Lawrence. I hope you can find good use for that coin of the realm. There might be more forthcoming if you can answer a few questions..."
Silas nods to Obi "Thank you kindly, sir. Never had a mutiny on a ship I've been on. It'd be bad for business."
As they leave the tavern and pass by the crowd on the pier Silas overhears Old Craw's tale. As it finishes and the crowd disperses he looks to Beth and says, "Just a minute," before heading over to see the old man.
He approaches and smiles to the wisened sailor. "Is there a chance you could tell me more about this black shark?"
Major Lawrence thinks on the 3 CP he has in his purse and the fact that he has not seen the color of gold in many a month.
"Before I can take your gold sir, I must know the nature of your questions" as he slides the coin back across the table.
Old Craw sits upon a crate and stares out at the sea with his one good eye.
The strange minded man makes his way out towards the sounds of story telling. Perching on one of the unattended crates dockside, he listens intently at the man. "Ooh! A shark, huh? Wonder if we could catch it and eat it. 'Cause you know, I remember hearing about this one Tulita fellow who caught shark and put it in raw with some of those spicy peppers and citrus and let it sit there in it all day. Tasty stuff with shark, though. Think it'd be fair to eat? Sure sounds big enough, wouldn't it?"
The crazed lunatic continues babbling, hoping it'll get the peg legged man talking more.
Outside the Run Aground, Sandman still sat in what had become his customary place in Port Shaw. The tavern owner liked him and owed him a favor after the big shaman had cleared up the gout on his foot.
Sandman heard the rambling on the pier about the black shark but only listened with half an ear. Sea stories were a dime a dozen around here. He'd heard of stranger things than that this week.
The difference was that Sandman believed that if you accounted for a certain amount of exaggeration, all the stories were probably true.
Something was in the air though. Fate was like a badly made net, all the ropes sliding around. Sometimes they cinched up just right though, and then you were caught. He could feel the ropes tugging. Something was beginning.
Morgan slides the coin back. He smiles deferentially.
"This is for drinking. Or whatever use you see fit to put it to. Other coins may follow for answers is all, and not to questions you'll fear to answer. I'll not trouble a man of honour to break his code, if a man of honour you are - I assume nothing in Port Shaw and I daresay you would caution no different."
Diplomacy:
Major Lawrence sit back in his chair and replies,"If I can answer the questions of a holy one of the Tulita, I will, but please spare your coin. I will not take that which I have not earned."
Old Craw rasps a reply and offers to tell you about the shark sightings.
"Sharks ain't nothin' to joke about sonny. Know 'em up close and personal. Lost an arm as a young lad to a tiger shark. Tore it off as casual as could be, just passing me swimming out near the edge of the harbor. Lost me legs to sharks. My fishing sloop sank ten years ago in a squall. I gripped a plank, white-knuckled for hours, before the sharks came. Held my legs out of the water for hours more before my muscles gave out and the bale-sharks took him apart below the knees, bite by agonizing bite.
There's been a rash of shark attacks have claimed the lives of several sailors and fishermen of late, leaving more folks missing limbs.
It ain’t natural. Dark times is comin’. A black shark means dark times.”
He points at Sandman and says, “The sharks got their god back. The black shark comes. We’re all as good as dead. You ask the Tulita. The old shamans know about the dark times.”
Silas looks to the old man, obviously a little disturbed. "There's more of these attacks than usual. Why do you think it's not natural?"
Morgan nods at the honorific bestowed. "Thanks you Master Lawrence - I merely serve my people as great Tohoraha would. That coin at least you have earned merely for attempting to return it!"
He asks various questions over a meandering conversation, trying not to be too familiar, but obviously friendly and interested - at one point Morgan enquires as to the Major's favorite drink and goes to the bar to order and pay for one from Fin "for the Major".
Why was the Major dumped from the Dragoons?
How does the Dragoons' approach to Law and Order differ from when the Major was in charge?
Does the major know of any major Tulita personages in the Port?
Does the Major know anything peculiar or noteworthy about Bonedeuce?
Has the Major heard of Maht/Granpappy Blackskull, and/or any new outbreaks thereof?
Does the Major have family/children?
What are the Major's plans for the near future?
I was not in charge, Commander Bonedeuce was and is in charge although things were different when Captain Razor was in charge.
I only know of the Tulita on the Lodge, but they are largely puppets of the merchants.
I will neither speak nor tolerate any ill word of my former commandant.
We have had a lot of issues with Dragonsmoke, but I have not heard of this Maht/Granpappy Blackskull.
No, I have no family.
Unless, I can somehow clear my name, their is not much I can do.
Ask the Tulita, they'll tell ya!
Morgan finds the ex-Dragoon to be an upright if slightly overzealous man.
"I am sorry to hear of your unfortunate encounter with corruption - if I come to be acquainted with any information that might aid you in restoring your good name and office I will advise you of it with the swiftness it deserves."
Morgan looks around the smoky room, remembering again why he no longer found himself a part of this free and chaotic world of venality and excess. He almost rises and returns to sit with his brother outside the tavern, but something about the Major's lack of drive or passion moves Morgan to importunity. He turns again to Lawrence.
"Forgive my bluntness Master Lawrence. I am not well-disposed to underhanded dealings or calumnies, but it does seem as if you are rather myopically staring fate in the mouth and pronouncing it wanting, or at the very least, starved. Your loyalty to your former Commander and your cadre notwithstanding, who might gain from your fall? For there to be a frame, there needs must be a framer - am I right?"
Diplomacy:
On that the Major takes his leave complaining of fatigue and too much drink. You notice the coin still on the table.
Morgan takes up the coin and saunters out of the alehouse. He flips the coin to Sandman and watches as the big Tulita catches it.
Knowledge (local)
Knowledge (nature)
Sandman catches to coin and looks at it.
"Tails. Davey Jones earns another piece today."
Holding the coin between thumb and middle finger, Sandman raised his hand near his ear and snapped, sending the coin sailing out into the waters between the docks.
"Now maybe you tell me why I just did that?"
Sitting on a bollard, Beth takes a step back as Obadiah and Silas inquire about the dark shark.
Dark powers, black sharks...things are not looking so good here.
Morgan sighs, and stares into the middle distance before focusing on a wheeling mob of gulls. He stands with his hands on the railing, his back to his brother.
Morgan lights his pipe again and scans the dock.
The little tikiman unfurls from around Morgan's neck, his writhing arms lined with shark's teeth. He climbs down Morgan's back and half falls, half leaps onto the barrel Morgan was crouched on minutes before. He opens his mouth obscenely wide, reaches in and pulls out a whalebone handled beltknife. He smiles up at Sandman before staring with mute fascination at the wooden barreltop. After a moment the little creature begins to carve imperfect geometric patterns of waves and fins.
One of the customers comes out of the tavern and spots the little tikiman carving on the barrel. He gasps and looks somewhat stunned, mutters to himself as he stumbles off, Tat's it... I gots to quiit drinkin'...!"
Seeing that he has unnerved the locals again, and that his Tulitan friends have shown up again, he makes a swift retreat, sliding across the slightly wet docks towards them.
Seeing a rope lifting a crate, he grabs it and tries to swing himself into the midst of them for a grand entrance.
...And for a bit of a spook.
"HELLLO, MY TULITAN FRIENDS!!!
Obi yells as he hurtles down towards the dock, landing with yet another sliding flourish and a bow to his obviously adoring fans. Because, of course, every dramatic entrance has fans.
Sandman doesn't even blink at the odd sailor's extravagant entrance.
"Be careful what you wish for, little brother."
"Mr. Obadiah, it seems we are seeking a ship. You look the sort to know of those seeking crews."