Perception
"Your both nuts. I'd rather have a blade fashioned like this then some prettified, gorified butter knife. That blade is made to be used, not sit on someone's wall."
(Waiting to see if Phaedra gets to say that, since it was -exactly- what Eaton was going to say. ;p )
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Sins List of Bits and Bobs
Wakizashi (Masterwork preferably)
Katar (Punching Dagger)
Throwing Knives x5
Light Crossbow
Bolts x20
Shuriken x10
Chain Shirt
Silver Earrings x2
Silk Rope 50ft
Pitons x10
Backpack
Black Silk Sash
-Sin
Dusting the list with sand, Sin grins and folds it closed, before leaving the cabin.
"Cap'n wait up!" Moving up to Edgar as the gangplank is lowered, Sin hands him the list. "Collect these for me, if you can? All out of my cut obviously. I feel naked without my old blade but a new one of its kind will do just as well!" Grinning he patted the man on the shoulder, before turning to the two women and bowing. "M'lady Emilia, M'lady Phaed, enjoy your stroll in the streets!"
With a wink at the others, Sin moved off to take his seat upon a barrel and began polishing his shortsword with care.
Life on the ship had been good to Sin so far. He had found he liked the sea, and working on deck. He was even beginning to tan, already his skin burnished a soft honey shade.
Their first night aboard the ship he had found himself a pair of billowy black canvas trousers, he wore these now, held tight at calf, below and above the knee and at the top of his thighs, with thin leather belts.
The suit of leather he had taken from the pirate, he had washed and repaired, returning it to its former glory. Similarly he had done the same with the shortsword.
He sat cross legged atop a barrel, his chest bare, as he worked a few sword techniques, getting himself used to the confines of working a weapon with his lower half incapacitated. As the other two men began to talk, Sin sat quietly to listen.
'The tide ebbs and flows in the ocean, the river runs its course but water can be still when it must and never makes a sound!' The length of black cloth, covering the lower half of his face, crinkled with a smile, as he remembered his masters words.
Old Wazir rolls his eyes at Phaedra and Edgar, scoffing derisively, "Honestly now I've no time to deal with amateurs in the field. I do not sell pig stickers and rock slings. I sell masterpieces I sell the weapons of kings and the armors of emperors! The stuff that legends are made of. Can any one of you tell me the history of the sword, eh? Its...gravitas? hmm.. With a wide grin he lays a hand on the blade's pommel, "I mean, if it were just as simple as you tell me the magic word, then sure we'd be all set. You would say 'Frindathas!' and I..."
All of a sudden the blade springs to life, glowing a deep blue as the film of frost quickly crawls up its base.
"Oh well look at that..." Wazir gasps in obviously mock astonishment, "I guess our negotiations just ch..chan... haha HAH haha Ha HA hoo heee hee hooo ho." wiping a tear away from his face with a crooked finger the old man tries to speak through his laughter,
"I'm sorry, that was just too enjoyable.. hoo hoo hee... now I've gone and given up the game. Ah well," He lets out a deep sigh before looking up, smiling, "I know the sword well, I sold it to Tharask. I take it he's dead then? very well I will buy it back for 1200 gold, and no more. I'm already going to have to inflate its price to make a profit from it."
Donnell shrugs to Tellar, not looking up from his carving. the knife flitting across the wood in small quick strokes, taking away a sliver here or there. Honestly Tellar was having trouble seeing what differences the man's alterations were making, but he seemed to know what he was doing,
"My family fled from Galt during the revolutions - and no I've no clue which one - and to feed his kids my grandfather signed up with a crew. We've been on the water ever since, hells I was born at sea. There's just something special about the feel of the waves." he shrugs again, "I enjoy shore leave as much as any man, but I'd go insane having to live on land."
Donnell casts a sidelong glance at Sin, then says to Tellar "... He knows he isn't a Tian... right?"
A rat scurries across the deck - in itself not a very unusual sight for a ship in port. But this rat acts a little strange. Stopping for a moment, it stands to sniff the air, before turning and making a beeline... For Emilia's cabin, working to squirm under the doorway.
Tellar glances over towards Sin at Donnell's words. With a chuckle, The sea can play tricks on the mind at times but no, I don't think he truly believes that. Granted who's to say? It was good the young man seemed to be coming out of his shell. Sometimes the sea can change people, sometimes for the worse.
Tellar glanced briefly at the rat. Filthy creatures, one of the few land-based burdens of life on the sea. But whatever, it'd take magic of the highest order to rid a ship of them permanently. He turned back to his rope work and looked back out toward the harbor mouth and the clouds on the horizon.
Phaedra looks at Eaton and gives a little shrug. "I suppose it sounds like a decent price, but you're the expert on weapons."
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At Donnells words, Sin began to chuckle softly to himself.
'Tian? No I am not Tian. I am a shadow, I am the wind, the rain and the stream. I am all and nothing, mostly nothing!' He stretched slowly, a small shadow catching his eye as it moved across the deck.
What the...? Drawing the dagger from his belt, Sin draws back his arm, before flicking it forward again, sending the knife darting toward the rodent.
"Follow the rat!"
'The hell is this...?'
Appraise
Perception
Edgar swallows, the price sounds good, but not sure how magic plays in with the price he keeps his mouth shut.
The Old Wazir Grins even wider, and slaps his knee once more, "Hoo hoo! I'm still a crafty devil... But you seem like nice kids. 3000, final offer."
"3,000... final offer huh... I don't know Eaton.... I think we could get alot more someplace else."
Diplomacy
Old Wazir cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at Edgar, his expression going deadpan, "Hmph, This isn't Magnimar boy. It's Riddleport. You want to find a better price than I've got, heh good luck. You're right, I'm offering you a deal that does better by me. You can take it or get out of my shop. But if you think you'll find better. Well.. then it wasn't your wits that killed Thrakao, that's for certain..."
Sin's dagger flies through the air like an arrow - and while it isn't a direct hit, the blade cuts deep into the rodents side.
The little rat lets out a squeak! and writhes on the deck in death throes.... Or is it? The rat's getting bigger!
It shifts and grows with a weird popping and cracking sound as skin stretches and bones break and reform.
Standing there - clutching a wound in its side - is a bipedal rodent as tall as a human, a wererat! With beady yellow eyes his glares at Sin and lets out a hiss of anger, "I'll gut you for that."
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"Try it scum!" Sin grins wolfishly behind his mask, as he charges towards the rodent, lashing out with his blade.
The shortsword whistles through the air and wide, as the rodent ducks beneath the attack, demonstrating its better than human reflex's. Cursing sharply, Sin narrows his eyes and focuses, honing his attention as his master thought him to do years before.
'I'll be up one flea ridden pelt by the end of this!'
Tellar rises slowly to his feet, his leg stiff below him. Kicking himself mentally for not noticing the strange rat's behavior, he raised his hand and pointed at the creature. A ray of sickly gray light shot out of his finger but missed the man-thing's hide.
'cheh~'
Edgar grunts in response to Old Wazir, looking to Eaton to say something...
"If you don't mind a momentary change of subject sir, how familiar were you with Thrakao and his crewmates?"
Old Wazir wags a finger at Phaedra, making a 'tut tut' sound. "The thought that I would freely discuss any of my other clients living or deceased is simply preposterous. Now my time is precious. Do we have a sale or not?"
Eaton waits, staring at the old man.. staring.. waiting... and finally shakes his head and says "No... no no... If you've not a serious offer closer to six then I'm afraid I'll have to take my business elsewhere. You won't find a man who knows more about steel than Eaton Starse within a -thousand leagues-. Iron is in my blood, Wazir, and magic in my hands. I'll turn this blade into eight thousand before we've set sail on the morrow, mark me. It's a fighter's blade, and you should know that better than any." The patient waiting has only seemed to agitate the old man, so Lord Starse bends to pick the blade back up, as casually and confidently as he entered.
As the blade flies over its head, the montrous rat draws his own shortsword and steps in fast under Sin's shoulder.
Life in captivity and at sea before and after has rusted Sin's skills - maybe fatally so - The wererat's move is fast enough to get under Sin's arm and the blade of his sword slips into Sin's armpit like butter. d.
"Hells he's fast!" Donnell cries out, Leaping to his feet and drawing his out scimitar.
Old Wazir cocks a skeptical eyebrow at Eaton, his smile disappears from his wrinkly features. With a deadpan voice he replies, "I don't give two figs of Gnoll dung what family whelped you boy, You are an amateur to this trade I don't appreciate having my generosity thrown in my face."
He casually leans back into his cushion, taking a drag off of his hookah. Nodding to the doorway as he lets the smoke exhale, "We both know I've given you a fair deal. Now you're welcome to take your business anywhere else 'in a thousand leagues,' maybe you can turn this sword in eight thousand gold. But I can swear it won't be in Riddleport. My offer stands."
His smile returns - but unlike before there's no laughter in the old man's eyes. "Until you walk out of that door. Then it drops to two thousand. One thousand by nightfall. I'm sure you see where this is going."
"Well, then you and I both know the weapon could not be -crafted- that cheaply. So you lose it. Good day, Wazir. And may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your loins." All of this, said while smiling cherubicly, Eaton takes the blade and turns to go.
"I'll be waiting out side." Edgar says as he leaves, opting the wait for Eaton and Phaedra outside the entrance of the shop as they finish conducting their business.
A look of annoyance and frustration on her face - sure that Eaton's botched any deal that could be made - Emilia turns to leave alongside Edgar. The two of them reach the doorway as Eaton retrieves the sword and briskly moves to leave alongside them.
"Four Thousand." Wazir's voice breaks the silence. Looking back at him, the old man's wide smile has returned. But his eyes - once dull and senile - are as sharp as a hawk's. "It really is my final offer this time. And it will end when you leave. Actually..." He pauses for a moment and his eyes briefly flick to Emilia, before looking back to Emilia.
"This... is my final offer. You may either take my four thousand gold. Or you take three thousand gold, and I will provide you with information on the oh so horrid bunch that Miss Valdemar's brother has gotten himself tangled up in."
He snaps his fingers and within a matter of seconds one of the serving girls drops a heavy pouch of coins into Old Wazir's waiting hand.
"You sought me out, Lord Starse, not the other way around. You asked and you prodded and you know I'm the best chance you have of turning coin on that blade. Otherwise you'd have saved your afternoon and gone to the Gasworks or some regular smithy of pawnsman. Keep in mind, I've already made my profit off of that blade. Anything else I earn from it is a bonus, so I see no reason to spend my last profit to make a smaller one.
So the only question now is, what is more valuable to you, coin or information?"
Eaton stops mid-step... he purses his lips and mmmms... Four was what he was aiming at the whole time, and the merchant didn't seem keen on haggling, so he shrugs...
"I will accept four thousand, that is a good price... but I will leave the value of the information to Emelia. It's her brother, and her quest. I think with enough asking we can find out much, if not all, our wizzened friend here knows... But it is a gamble that might lose us much more than a thousand sovereigns. Four thousand is what it would cost to enchant the blade, minus the value of the steel's quality. It's not so bad. You can really hardly quibble over the hundred sixty sovereigns when you're talking about four thousand."
Eaton waves his hand like breezing away a bad smell over Wazir. "May the fleas of a thousand camels -not- infest your loins." He -is- a Hexblade. Better safe than sorry.
"It's your choice, Emelia... coin or knowledge. Personally, I think right now hiring our crew means we need more coin... Those men will need feeding and paying." He unslings the sword and sets it carefully down lengthwise on Wazir's table again, letting the old man have the weapon at hand. Plus you're never supposed to balance them on their point. Though that rule -probably- doesn't apply to enchanted blades.
Tellar grabs Sin's shoulder as he moves back. A flash of cold and the sound of waves passes through Sin's ears as the slash under his arm knits itself back together. With a soft chuckle he pats the young warrior on the back. Try to be a bit more careful next time.
Sensing that her future aboard the boat will more than likely be filled with disagreements with Eaton, Phaedra shakes her head a bit as she looks at him and then glance at Wazir before turning her gaze upon Emilia.
"Well, Lord Starse has given his opinion, so I guess it's my turn now. I vote for information. Though I agree that we will need money to feed and pay a crew, we also need to know what we are up against. Wazir has apparently met at least some of the crew and appears to know you on sight since as far as I can recall no one introduced you to him, so his information is likely to be useful. Also, I doubt anyone is going to just hand out the information we want for free, so what does it matter if we take less money for the sword and spare us the trouble of searching out and then paying someone else to tell us what he knows?"
Edgar looks to Emilia. "It's your choice Emilia. I'd take the Info. The fact that this old man would know this so soon after the Coup scares me."
As Tellar's soothing touch watches over Sinders, Donnell lunges forward with his blade, stabbing out as the wererat twists himself away from the blade's reach, before slashing back with his own blade, drawing a line of red across Donnell's chest, forcing a grunt of pain from the rugged sailor's gritted teeth.
Tellar weaves himself into position around his companions. His hand darts out to grab at the rat-man, his fist surrounded in a deep blue haze that radiates cold.
For a moment, Emilia doesn't move. She stands there chewing her lip, her eyes darting between her three companions before taking a deep steadying breath. She turns back to Wazir, "Alright" she says, speaking for the first time since entering the shop, "Tell me what you know."
At that the Old man grins, his head slowly shaking, "Oh no dear. Nononono, I would never tell you what I know. But I will tell you more that you don't know."
He nods to one of the women to his side, "Jaryshia, bar the door and light a candle. The rest of you, leave us."
Without a word of protest, the servants and sycophants of the strange old man exit the room through a back door that his promptly locked by the sole remaining woman garbed in diaphanous red silks. She bars the front door as well - behind Edgar and Eaton - and then she produces a candle from a box. It is a little less than a foot long, with a strange, rainbow slicked look to the waxy finish, like oil drifting across a lake. When she lights it, a green flame springs up and sizzles from the wick.
"To keep our conversation between us. You never know when some unscrupulous rival may be trying to gain an advantage of the market." He motions to the empty cushions arrayed on the floor, "You'd best make yourselves comfortable."
Emilia takes a seat on one of the cushions, and when the others are ready, either standing or sitting, Wazir begins.
"Your brother fancies himself a new scourge to the seven seas. Armed with sword and spell he sees a way to cut out a name for himself among the wreckages of pilfered plunder. To his mind, he was approached by a fearsome band of pirates who call themselves The Kraken, who have pledged to make Eredin a name to be feared across all the waters, for the price of your family."
Choking back tears, Emilia asks "Why? Why would he do that?"
but Wazir only shrugs, "I'm sorry my flower. there are some things even I do not know. But I do know that while your brother may think himself a prince. He is nothing more than a pawn to The Kraken."
Hunching forward and taking a long draw off of the coil of his pipe, Wazir continues with cloud of swirling smoke trailing from his lips and nostrils. "The Kraken is not a simple pirate fleet. They are a covenant, a secret society to her higher members, a brotherhood. It is a beast whose tentacles reach across all of Avistan, perhaps even farther. They dwell in Absalom, and their reach stretches nto the lowest gutters of the streets and up to caress the tallest towers of the kings of the world. Their actions orchestrated but unseen masters who keep each sect oblivious of the others, until they are needed as a whole. So if one limb is ever discovered or destroyed. Another simply takes its place."
"This sounds like a fairy tale!" Emilia exclaims, "If this 'Kraken' is as powerful as you say, why would they worry about a varisian merchant like my uncle!"
Old Wazir smiles a long, thin smile and nods, "Ahh but that's just it. Power. The Kraken has no need for riches or plunder. Coin is surprisingly easy to come across... but power? And the attack on your ship had nothing to do with your uncle, and everything to do with your father."
"My father's been dead for years, what could he..."
As Emilia trails off, Old Wazir nods slowly, seeing that she understands.
"It wasn't about my family." Emilia mutters, "It was about my father's ship. They wanted the North Star." She looks up at Wazir, "Why?! What are they after?"
But the old man can only smile, and shrug, "That, I do not know."
Eaton smiles softly and nods his approval to Emelia, his eyes glittering. He takes a seat beside Emelia, leaving a cushion empty beside him, and crosses his legs neatly.
Sitting silent through the story, he only purses his lip at the scarce information a thousand pieces of gold has bought them. Surely asking at any number of sea-taverns would have revealed as much about The Kraken, and surely further investigation into the society of killers would have revealed their most recent inquisition as to the place and purpose of the North Star.
Still, if he catches Emilia's eye again, he prompts her with raised eyebrows and an approving smile, making a little 'more more carry on!' roll of his hand.
At that the Old man grins, his head slowly shaking, "Oh no dear. Nononono, I would never tell you what I know. But I will tell you more that you don't know."
Edgar frowns as he crosses his arms. He'd rather take another gunshot wound than listen to this crooked old man. Edgar leans against the wall as the others settle down on the cushions.
...
Edgar waits a moment after the old man stops moving his lips. "...And?" Edgar says impatiently at the same time Eaton makes his hand motions.
His eyes quickly darting between Eaton and Edgar, Old Wazir lets out a harumph or exasperation. "Just when I thought you were beginning to catch on."
Casting his eyes heavenward he makes a small whimpering sound before looking back, "Where's the fun in a puzzle if I give you all the pieces, eh? Fine then I'll try again. These men and women, they are not simple thieves or criminals - although those could be counted among their lot. They are Kings and Queens, Lords of commerce and barons of industry. Scholars Arcane and Cardinals of Faith. they have agents everywhere, on every land. They are as global and as strong of a society as The Pathfinders, and yet they have managed to remain as invisible as the wind. "
Looking directly back at Emilia he says, "The North Star is a fine ship I'm sure, but it's just a boat. Men such as the ones who directed the pirate crew against you could buy a fleet of them in a fashion that I would buy a bag of oranges. And your father was not a man of industry like your grandfather and uncle..."
"He was a Pathfinder." Emilia finishes the infuriating old man's sentence, her brow furrowed, looking for the connection she hadn't seen yet.
"Tell me my dear, when did you last see your parents?"
"I was six. He and my mother left because of some discovery they had found a clue to.." her eyes go wide as she looks up to Wazir. "That's what they're after. Whatever it was my father found?"
"I would assume," Wazir replies, "Getting revenge on your brother - or justice or whatever - may bring you satisfaction but it will not bring you peace. Whatever it was your family learned. The Kraken will not rest until they have it."
And with another smile he adds, "And because I'm so generous, a name: The man who conspired with Eredin to bring the pirates down upon you. Gavroche DuPrinum."
Eaton totally catches him lying!
"HAH! You've blundered, old man! Gavroche DuPrinum is my father's Major Domo in Absalom! You've stumbled into it this time! I've known Gavroche my whole life, and he'd never consort with the likes of -pirates-. He hates pirates. We all hate pirates. Pirates cost us a mint in lost goods and another mint in expensive guards every year. That's two mints that Gavver can't get any of into his pocket because of the likes of Emelia's treacherous brother. You can't fool m..."
It takes a while, but Intelligence finally catches up with Wisdom, and with a correction out the gate. "Oh..." The young lord's brow furrows and his face falls and he sticks his jaw out a bit... "Oh."
[/spoiler]
Sinders blade drives into the wererats gut, spurting blood. The rat shoves away from the ninja and swings in for another strike at the revitalized warrior, his blade biting deep into Sin's flesh, even as Donnell drives his blade forward, stabbing the rat near Sin's original cut, causing the vermin to howl in renewed pain.
Edgar gives Emilia a curious look when she mentions the mysterious item on the Northstar. Deciding on asking of it at a time when there wasn't a sneaky wizard around he instead asks. "Do you know anything else that could be helpful old man?"
The old man cocks an eyebrow at Edgar, and the expression seems to say 'You really expect that to work?'
"I may, or I may not. I've no more information to give you though, only advice."
His eyes scanning between the four of them he says, "As the young Lord is now beginning to fathom, the ones pulling the strings are not men to be trifled with. Reclaim your family's holdings in Magnimar. Kill your brother if you need to, but then set your father's ship adrift and pray your enemies are simply to concerned with finding it to bother dealing with you. Your lives will be longer for it."
Without waiting for an answer, the old man leans over and blows out the candle - which somehow seems to make the room brighter - and claps his hands. At once his retainers re-enter. "Either way, you had best be off."
Seeing his odds turning against him, The Rat stumbles back a step, and then lunges forward and to the side, throwing himself into a roll to get past his opponents and take a dive from the ship's rail. But in his panic, the vermin's claws catch on a raised plank and he spills forward and a flail of limbs. Taken aback by the move, Donnell's own strike is a clumsy one, skimming just over the wererat's head.
Well... we have entered the realm of 'that's-not-good' and are heading straight for the capital city of 'Uh-Oh'. That's in the county of 'Bad News', in case you weren't aware. "We should go... I need to send news to my mother immediately, and we have much to do before we set sail again. We need to collect our coin and be moving."
Deeply disturbed does not begin to describe the level of emotion the young lord is expressing, his lips tight against his straight white teeth.
Tellar curses his terrible aim, attempting again to freeze the abomination in its tracks.
Seeing the beast falter while making its escape, Tellar doesn't waste the chance.
The Old Wazir nods sagely, passing over a bag of coin to Eaton, "I'm sorry lad,"
Saying small goodbyes, the group exits out of Wazir's shop and the alleyway back into the market street. The sun rests on on the western roofs, painting the sky in hues of pinks and yellows, blending into purples.
Looking weary, and glancin up to the sky. "What's our next move?"
Eaton hopes it's all platinum, because three thousand gold coins weighs -sixty pounds-. Opening his doublet he fastens the bag back on the inside, giving himself an extremely valuable paunch and patting the heavy mass of metal to flatten it a bit. "We head back through the market, catch a provisioner on the way through, make an order for tomorrow morning, and pack it in for the night. We'll have to come back through tomorrow. I'd really like to get an Alkenstar Forge setup going in the ship, and I could spend the night working on it, but it's just -too late-. We'll have to do our shopping tomorrow. Oh! And keep an eye out for something tasty to bring back for dinner. And a good brandy. Love a good brandy..."
The Lordling sets to walking, becking the group in behind him as he navigates his way back out toward the portside markets and their ship.