It was a hot afternoon, the tropical sun beating down on Quent. The harbor was quiescent, with even the hardiest pirates and sailors having sought shade, and to wait out the hottest part of the day. Only the ever present seagulls and pelicans seemed as lively as ever, looking for food in the dirty and trash strewn harbor. Queshem was up on deck, finalizing the last of the ship's goods to be transferred aboard. The canny old pirate had gotten good rates in port and Queshem was quite satisfied with the stores below. She had just been about to bring up his hunt for a new ship before she spotted three figures heading toward the gangplank of her ship.
She knew the middle figure, Iorris Starra, looking as sharp as ever in a classic pirate's outfit. Brightly colored doublet, high-peaked hat (complete with feather) and brown pants, along with high sea boots. Somehow the cliched ensemble looked good on the woman however, not the costume it appeared on others. She strode down the rough cobblestone docks like she owned them.
Flanking her were two figures Queshem did not know. One was tall and strong, the bearing of a fighter, if not a soldier. They were not human however, and it took Queshem a moment to place the species of the blue-skinned creature. A female undine, a creature of water and wave, not very common anywhere although the Shackles had more then their fair share. A huge sword was strapped to their back, and more armor then was custom among pirates, not to mention the axes and daggers on her hips.
The other figure was a wild-looking woman with a shock of spiky red hair. Her clothes looked more like living plants woven together, still fresh and green from life. A light staff was in one hand, topped with blossoming flowers, shifting slightly with each step. Her eyes were bright and searching, even at this distance.
"Hail, Captain Queshem!" Starra says, stopping at the foot of the gangplank. "Permission to come aboard?" The woman stops, doffs her hat in a low and rakish bow.
Before Queshem can answer however, Thasha appears shouting, "Zadei!" with joy in her voice. Without a pause she runs down the wooden gangplank toward the imposing looking undine, who catches her in a stiff one-harmed hug. "I thought you were out of the city!" The tielfing says, grinning more then Queshem has seen in many months.
"I was, I just got back. Just in time too, it seems." Zadei says, looking up at Queshem's ship. She smiles back at Thasha but Queshem notes the expression doesn't reach her eyes, which seem distant.
Queshem waves at the group. The three looked formidable and with Thasha she could see the swashbuckling adventurers Starra's crew had been. Emphasis on the had. Hail Lord Starra, yer welcome aboard with never a doubt. To what do we owe this pleasure?
Draflo! Polos! Get the cabin ready for guests! She shouts. Code for hide the things Pronto!
Starra grins and rummages in a pack for a moment, before withdrawing a bottle of bright red wine, glistening in the bright sun. " I thought we would celebrate business concluded and more to come!" She shakes the bottle enticingly, "And also, I'd like a tour of your ship, if you don't mind. It has been too long since I've had a deck under my feet. I hope you don't mind?"
Behind her, Queshem's crew gets the final touches on the ship ready. In the cabin, Dralfo has already secreted away Gnarea's journal, the strange token and the box that Pokimbell found so sacred. In addition, the crew also simply clean the ship, presenting the best case forward. Everyone but Rabbis is there, the ex-slave having gone off to the shops, to buy items for his new post as Queshem's land agent in Bag Island.
Don't mind at all. Queshem responds noting Starra repeating herself which was something out of character for the no nonsense Pirate lord. This whole thing was really. Polos, my brother, would be real interested in chattin' with Zadei 'bout all that fine armor and weaponry I know that. Come on up. I'll give ye a tour first and then we can talk in the cabin. Hope it's not too humble for ye.
In short order the trio is on deck, Thasha staying close to Zadei. Queshem has to note the group is rather imposing close up with both the undine and the unnamed druid taller then she is, and Starra not much behind. Part of Queshem can't help but feel she is being boarded by a hostile party.
The tour goes simply enough, Queshem feeling a bit silly leading a group of sailors who has seen all of this before. Sure, maybe a strict landlubber might find a fighting ship an interesting and exotic place but Starra's crew are old seahands, and there is nothing aboard Queshem's ship to be that unusual. Starra does most of the talking, asking polite questions at the proper moments, while her friends simply look about with dark eyes. Now and then Starra asks a passing crew member something innocent, but doesn't press it.
Soon enough they are at the cabin door, having explored the ship from stem to stern. Starra smiles broadly, "A fine ship you have here, Queshem, if I may be so bold. I feel privileged to have been let aboard. I have always felt how a person runs a ship, tells you a great deal about them, don't you agree? I see efficiency, comradeship and a general air of competence. Clearly I selected the right woman to do business with. However, all things must come to an end."
Starra taps her pack, and the wine bottle inside softly clinks, "Enough business, let's go inside and toast our success. And maybe you can regale us with a few tales of your adventures? We haven't had much time to talk about everything that happened on Bag Island and the docks are full of rumors." She grins, "I hear even the House of Stolen Kisses is intrigued with your exploits."
Queshem sighs, Well it won't be much fer regalin' as what happened on Bag Island weren't... pleasant. But certainly, come on in. Draflo, Polos, yer persepctives will be good to have for this. Ye coming in Thasha? It'd be a squeeze but we've had more in there before.
"Don't shortchange yourself. Besides, maybe we can talk about further business?" Starra says. When Queshem mentions the tight fit the druid woman says, voice low and throaty, "I will stay out here, and enjoy the fresh air." It is the first time she has said anything.
Thasha smiles and says, "Please, it has been so long sine I've caught up with all of you."
Soon, all of them pile into Queshem's cabin. Her office is indeed, crowded between herself, Starra, Thasha, Polos and Dralfo, not to mention the hulking undine. Still, there is enough room for everyone to claim a bit of wall to lean against.
Starra pulls out the wine and says, "Any glasses? I'll do the pouring, in my role as gracious guest."
After pause Starra adds, "I couldn't help but notice your ship seemed ready to set out, are you heading back out soon?"
Queshem sends someone out to bring back mugs for everyone as she nods at Starra's question. Yeah. Ain't one to stay on land for long fer one thing and fer another got unfinished business to take care of. I already told ye what my purpose in the Shackles be and I were hoping to drop by Bag Island to see how it be recovering in alliance with ye. I don't remember if I told ye how I were the victim of a mutiny. I've got some scales to balance with the bastard who did it, a man who were my First Mate.
Queshem eyes the wine bottle closely. The label has been removed, but that is customary enough in the Shackles, with most glass bottles being re-used many, many times. Glass is a rare commodity in the Shackles (although Quent is rich enough to have its own glassworks, and Starra certainly wealthy enough to not have to use castoff rum bottles).
Starra nods, "Ah, vengeance. A dish best served cold they say but frankly, I have always found it satisfying enough myself. In moderation of course."
The female captain fills the mugs with bright red wine, handing them out to everyone, including herself and Zadei. She holds it up and says, "Dare I make a toast? To good fortune, fair sailing and an end to all mutinies!" Then, takes a deep draft of the wine.
Queshem doesn't hand a mug to Draflo. She's been sickly lately and the wine be not good fer her sadly. she takes a swig of her own mug though.
Queshem swallows down some of the wine and her first reaction is to make a face. It is overly sweet, far more then it should be, at least to taste right. This is more like fruit juice for babies then proper liquor. However, after tasting it for a moment, Queshem realizes it is actually quite potent. The sweetness is merely there to hide the 'kick'.
As she expected Polos drinks deeply, and so does Thasha. Both glasses as quickly refilled by Starra, who also tops off her own glass.
"Aye, an end to all mutineers." Polos says, nodding and sipping his second glass. "I'll drink to that."
"So," Starra says, "Sing us a song Queshem, one worthy of such a fine ship and crew. Paint us a picture of your victory over the dark and evil Norgerbites. And drink up yourself, this is your celebration after all. You have made out well, out of all this. Well earned, to say the least."
Celebration? Queshem grins Then let's do it under the sky rather'n my cramped cabin. This be a place fer the serious stuff. She stands up and motions for the door out to be opened and ushers everyone out. Then she strides out herself and calls for a keg to be opened and for all the crew close by to leave their duties behind for a spell.
She arranges for the chairs in the cabin to be brought out for the guests of honour to sit or stand near Starra's bottle of wine at hand while everyone else gets to pull from the keg.
This be a tale fer Starra, who, Queshem raises her mug at the Pirate Lord Let me remind ye is the reason any of us been getting paid the last little while. So while I know most of ye've heard this one before and some of ye lived the bloody thing I'll ask ye to keep yer pie holes shut if yer bored or get tossed overboard.... and then she begins to relay the tale of the crew of the Second Wind on Bag Island.
Just like the first time she told the tale leaves out any mention of the mysterious woman who had witnessed the results of Gnarea's bloody sacrifice and ends the tale with Gnarea getting dragged into the depths of Abbadon by his own summons. She also molds the story to be less motivational and more of a pirate's yarn.
She only sips her glass when she gets thirsty during the long tale.
Starra is obviously reluctant to move the gathering outside, but there is no graceful way to do so. Polos and Thasha lead the way back out on deck, passing the wine bottle between them.
Soon though the entire crew is gathered around, happily dipping out of the communal barrel, taking deep drafts. It is the usual rum and grog however, and the sailors are used to it (unlike the spiked wine). Sitting on barrels, piles of rope, the gunwales and among the rigging they listen to Queshem tale like a crowd hearing a familiar but favored play. They cheer at the right times and playfully boo Queshem when she misses a beat or forgets a minor detail.
Queshem keeps an eye on Starra who obviously wishes she could interrupt and dig deeper on some points but the open theater like format is not conducive of it. Polos and Thasha probably dig more of the wine then Queshem wished, but at least the general revelry prevents them doing anything too foolish.
When Queshem finishes she has a slight buzz off the wine but the sheer work of orating a grand tale for that long is enough to sweat most of it out of here. Everyone cheers, including Starra and Zadei, when Queshem bows after the finale.
"A fine tale, and well told!" Starra says, standing up in turn. Her bright eyes sweep the crowd and Queshem can see the allure, the old charisma. Then the woman turns to Thasha, "Although I wonder if our Thasha could have done better, she is aboard after all. Why didn't you have her tell it?"
The words are light, but there is an edge there. "Then again," Starra says, "She has been reluctant to say much at all about this adventure."
She shrugs, as if it was no consequence and turns back to Queshem, "So, your mutineer. You said you wish to find him?" An angry or eager series of mutters from the crew. Clearly a few want to get revenge on Magner and his accomplices but Queshem also sees more then a few faces with apprehension or doubt. Not everyone has undivided loyalties, even now.
"Where do you seek him?" Starra asks, plainly.
Hah I think I be a better tale teller than Thasha Queshem snorts ye don't want me to sing at all though, Abadar knows so it evens out in 'er favour. Her brow furrows as she goes on As fer what happened truth be told I don't like to speak o' it either, what we saw in Beachcomber.... it weren't right. A whole town of people spiked in blood to serve Gnarea's madness. Queshem's voice goes harsh My own village got ripped apart when I were young so Gods know it pains me to see it happen. It be coarse murderous insanity.
She comes out of the bad memories, both old and new, with a sigh.
So There must be justice of course and I do plan to pursue it. And Abadar knows I'm going to get me ship back. But I won't move heaven and earth to satisfy the desire. I've seen what such singular obsession does too many times. And I got plenty other things to do to make the Shackles safer fer trade. The deal ye made with Slipcove be glorious and I hope it'll be an inspiration to others in how much more money can be made more easier by honest dealin' rather'n piracy and raidin' and hell it be easier work to boot. So first thing I'll be doing is going back to Bag Island to make sure everything there be on the up and up. Gnarea didn't leave any... witnesses.. that I can ask fer me quarry but I got a lead here in Quent that might lead to where he be. And then I got to hope that he don't move on and I'm not just chasing his tail. If I can know fer certain what he be [i]doing[i] then I might be be able to go to where he's going rather than run behind the bastard.
Starra's eyes flash for a moment and Queshem can tell the woman can tell Queshem hasn't said everything. Then again, who in the Shackles does?
"Ah, a promising lead. I wish you a good hunt and safe travels." Starra stands up and Zadei does the same. At the prow, the silent druid noiselessly joins them, having not said a single word the entire she has been on board, as far as Queshem can say.
"You are a lucky crew," Starra adds to the crowd, and then s he bows to Queshem, "To clear skies and deep water. May the luck of Besmara be with you for some time to come. I'll keep an eye out for you in the future."
With that and little else, Starra departs looking slightly frustrated despite her fair words. At the gangplank Thasha catches up with her, tottering a bit after the strong wine. The two have a whispered but tense conversation there, but Queshem can't hear much of it. She does see Thasha nearly break into tears though as Starra turns her back on her, and leaves. Zadei only pauses long enough to shakes his head at the shaken teifling before following suit.
Most of the crew, still enjoying the party-like atmosphere doesn't notice but Thasha quickly heads belowdecks, face in her hands. Draflo, still cleared headed frowns, "What was that all about?"
Queshem, having barely held off the formidable Pirate Lord frowns as she tips her hand even more by rejecting Thasha.
Starra made Thasha choose between us and her, and when Thasha tried to avoid it, made the choice for her. It take a harsh woman to treat a mate that way.
Queshem gives Draflo a frank look before moving to follow the heart broken tiefling below. Starra be closer to a foe now than a friend Draflo, I think we need to be taking our leave of Quent fer a spell. Tell Tound and Parcell to keep up the watch, those on duty will be rewarded fer vigilance.
Before heading down, Queshem sighs and pauses for a few minutes to give Thasha at least a little time alone. She descends and calls out Thasha, ye feel good to talk?
Dralfo nods and says, "PArcell was saying something about buying a ship. Is that on hold? I imagine purchasing and outfitting a ship might take some time." A pause then, "Should I send someone out to find Rabbis? Are we leaving in a hurry?"
Queshem heads belowdecks, the air hot and humid here, trapped by the soaked planks of the ship. It had been hot enough on deck, down here it was like a sauna. The air smells a bit more foul then she'd like, and despite the circumstances, makes a mental note to tell Parcell to get some people scrubbing down here. The last thing she needed was an outbreak of mold or rot.
When she calls out, she is at first greeted with silence then, "Would you feel good after being made of a fool of by your friends in front of the whole ship?" her voice is ragged, either from crying or anger, it is hard to tell.
Ya know... Queshem says carefully, not wanting to invalidate the feelings of the obviously emotionaly fragile Thasha as she moved towards her voice. I don't think anyone aboard noticed anything other'n Draflo and me.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Thasha says, a sniffle in her voice, "Only the two most important people on the ship saw me?"
A long pause then, voice more normal, "I'm sorry my former shipmates made such a scene Captain. I don't think it will happen again, if that is any comfort. Starra seemed...unhappy with the turning of events. \"
Queshem finds the tielfing sitting on a crate in the dim hold, wiping her eyes.
Queshem plops down heavily beside Thasha. The whole thing were a thrust and I parried. Problem bein' she knows I were ready fer it and the pretense between us be gone. But it were a subtle thing Thasha. I wouldn't worry about it.
She gives the tiefling a pat. None of us heard what Starra said to ye, but... she lowers her voice to commiserate in a more private fashion It weren't an easy thing to hear I take it? And ye weren't expectin' Zadei to take her side?
Thasha sighs and says, "No, I expected better. But then again, maybe I am in the wrong? No offense Queshem, but I have known Starra and Zadei a long time, fought alongside them, sailed with them through storm and fair weather both. Maybe I should have told her everything and...." The bard hesitates over the next word, clearly unwilling to say it. Finally she says, "But I have made my choice, and such things are done." There is a sigh there, that tells Queshem of more then just the loss of a shipmate, but a broken heart, long buried.
She glances at Queshem then, a weak smile on her dark skin, blue eyes glowing in the dark, "I think you are stuck with me now, Captain. If you'll have me after that display up there."
From above she hears Parcell shout, "Trouble, Captain? Should I get her ready to make way? Rabbis is still ashore, everyone else is accounted for."
Queshem sighs and pats Thasha on the back. I'm glad to have ye aboard Thasha and that be a fact. Didn't mean to put ye in a situation where ye'd have to choose.
Queshem goes back upstairs and tries to calm matters somewhat. Ain't that there's trouble, I just got a lead on our quarry and it'd be better to move fast rather'n stock up. Start getting us ready to push off and I'll go with Xiakon to find Rabbis. Keep any riff raff off 'cause they'll just slow us don. Did Rabbis say where he'd be? Post a guard on me cabin though, Drafo'll be inside goin' over some things.
Parcell grunts, "So I did all that boat shopping for nothing? Ah well, there are always more ships for sale in the Shackles. Guard on the door? Aye aye." The old ex-pirate goes off to rouse the crew into something approaching discipline after the quasi party a few moments ago. Luckily they didn't hit the grog barrel too hard and Queshem only sees a few unsteady hands at work.
Parcell tells Queshem rabbis mentioned talking to some of the smaller merchants and traders, establishing himself as a factor for Queshem. She can't help but smile at picturing the imposing, muscle-bond ex-slave hobnobbing with a bunch of merchants. Still, Rabbis clearly had hidden depths.
Queshem and Xiakon dive into the busy docks of Quent, looking for Rabbis. The tengu seems tense, clearly sensing Queshem's desire to get back out at sea, with waves and wind behind her. The world was moving out there and this was no time to be spent riding idly at anchor. The streets are crowded, as the sun slowly sets into the west and the air grows cooler. It is a relief after the pounding tropical noon.
Queshem is so caught up in her task she doesn't quite notice when a passing stranger presses something in her hand. The inquisitor starts but as she looks up, the figure has vanished into the burgeoning crowds. Looking down she sees a folded bit of paper, sealed with the sign of Caliastira. A secret note passed by mysterious unknown courier.
Xaikon whistles and says, "Who is that from?"
Queshem feels queasy as she stares at the message. She casts Detect Magic on it and, if she finds nothing untoward, pops it open while shusing Xiakon.
The paper is soft and creamy, high quality in the rough and tumble Shackles which has low demand for writing. The wax cracks smoothly under pressure, and Queshem guesses it is newly pressed. This letter is crisply folded and written in a fair and experienced hand. Queshem doubts she or even Draflo could so good a job although being on dry land probably helps.
It reads as follows,
Queshem, Captain of the ship [i]Deadly Bolt[/i]
I hope this letter finds you in good health and under fair skies, Captain. I apologize for the secretive and melodramatic method of delivery but I feel a more customary delivery may have been intercepted or otherwise interfered with.
As you may guess from my line of work, I am no stranger to danger or the threats of secrets. In line with my prudent nature, I have long established methods of keeping myself safe and being aware of danger. Not long after you left me, one of my triggers was tripped and it became clear I was about to visited and probably roughly handled. I find this to be most undesirable so I have retired to a safe location, away from such distractions.
I tell you this not to worry you, for I am perfectly safe or to complain, for this is not unexpected in my line of work. No, it is to warn you and inform you of how serious your foes, our foes, are. It also supports our theory that our enemy has long ears and allies in many unexpected places. Keep your eyes open.
P.S. I heard rumors that your ships might be targeted for a theft tonight. Consider yourself forewarned, Captain.
Queshem tears up the note and shoves the pieces in her pocket. We're headin' back Xiakon, now, don't have to run, but step quick like, yeah?
"What about Rabbis?" Xaikon hisses but he turns and follows Queshem, feet moving quickly through the crowd. Queshem keeps watch but sees nothing. That is little comfort however for the street is busy and she never saw the letter deliverer either. Who else did this street hold?
Whatever dangers Quent contains, they hold off and Queshem and Xaikon reach the docks in safety (if a little out of breath). The ship seems safe and whole and Queshem has time to let out a little sigh of relief when Parcell's voice reaches her, "We have a problem, Captain."
Parcell points to the harbor directly in front of the Deadly Bolt. Instead of a clear waterway toward the open ocean, their way is blocked by two heavy barges, loaded with stone and timber. Mostly used to transport bulk goods from island to island (or even just around a simple island), the barges are ugly, ungainly vessels, a world away from her own boat.
"They are blocking us in, Captain. We can't get out, can't even ram them this close and them being heavier then us. At first I just thought it was random chance, them waiting for a dock or something. Quent doesn't have the best harbor master, but I saw them running out anchor lines. They mean to stay, Captain." The ex-pirate squints at Queshem, "This part of your trouble?"
Yar, that be what it is. Queshem grouses. Things be getting downright uncivil around here. Get Polos and Thasha up here, and marines. Need to confront those tug boats 'bout what exactly they be up to. Have some of 'em on deck too. Get a few runners to find the harbormaster and drag 'im here. Send others to gather up everyone ashore and tell em to get back here as soon as bloody possible. What be the etiquette in Quent 'bout violence on the docks by the by?
She pokes her head in the cabin to see how Draflo is. Be wary, I think someone be looking to make a play fer our little secrets she says shortly. Put up some alarm spells and detect magic and see invisible if ye can.
Xiakon, put up a blessing if ye can and then go around asking where exactly Rabbis said he was going and when he left.
Then she strides over towards the tug boats. What be the meaning of this ya lugs! There be no reason to block us from the sea! she yells.
Parcell glances up and down the busy waterfront, lined with stone warehouses and quays. "It is the Shackles, Captain. No one minds a bit of rough and tumble, some brawls on the docks, even a bit of cargo stealing. But this is Quent.....blasting them out of the water will get labeled as renegades." Then the old pirate grins, gold teeth glittering, "Unless that is what you want. I've sailed with renegades a time or two. Fun times, not following the rules and all that. But I don't think it would suit you, captain. Besides, you'd upset the bigwigs in town. If you Starra is a shark, imagine if you got on the wrong side of Fairwind? Not to mention anyone else who happened to be in the bay."
Queshem's orders are relayed along quickly. Polos (still a bit tipsy) and Thasha quickly gather together some sailors, arming them as best as they can. Some are stationing along the waterfront and the gangplank, keeping casual onlookers off. Polos himself takes to pacing the deck, eyes peeled for trouble, clearly sensing Queshem's own tension. Xaikon does the same, casting divine enchantments as best he can.
Queshem's shouts carry over the still water, reaching the not so distant barges. Both are low in the water, stacked high with cargo, mostly timber and stone. "Waiting for our turn, what's it to you?" One of the barge captains says, a pot bellied man with a greasy cap. "As for blocking you, that's the price of being in such a busy port. You have a problem, take it up with the harbormaster. I'm not ramming some galley just because you have a fancy to go fishing in deeper water."