"A touching eulogy, Junior. As for food, I don't like greasy things so much and uh... I foresee food in Davenport!"
Snowball then makes a mewling sound.
"Of course you can have my share, Snowball. Just wait by Stary and I'm sure Wizzer will help you."
Snowball, ignoring Unk's plan, walks up to the owlbear corpse and begins attempting to rend flesh from the side opposite Stary.
Wizzer cuts slices for anyone who would want some. Small pieces for the cats. "Can someone start a fire? I know the felines don't mind raw meat, but I would rather have mine cut. Does anyone have any veggies?"
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Traveling down the road to Pickle... ehem... Davenport, our heroes notice the forest quickly gives way to a steep rocky outcrop. The climb is tough as the road cuts up the hillside in a series of quick switchbacks. Reaching the top of the crest, the group is met with a spectacular view. The rocky ridge pours over into a deep, semi-circular shaped valley which gives way to a wide crescent shaped bay. Beyond the bay, a chain of rocky islands extend the rim rock to form a natural semipermeable barrier to the cove. The coastal city of Davenport is built around an elevated hill near the center of the bay.
Our heroes arrive at the town gates near mid afternoon and find the city bustling with activity. Having such a protected port, Davenport is a busy trade center, and has grown quite wealthy in recent years. A large bazaar greets our heroes just beyond the gates with exotic colors and fragrances. A vendor close by hawks his wares, seemingly directly at our group. Behind him, under the canopy of his stall, upon shelf after shelf, are barrels, pots, and jars full of cucumber melons, radishes, beets, carrots, pearl onions, garlic, peppers both sweet and hot, green beans, okra, sliced ginger, papaya, mangoes, even lemons and limes, all soaking in spiced vinegary brines.
Yes, my friends, pickles.
Junior approaches the merchant, "A dozen of your finest doozies my good man! Oh and did a young woman name Kivi come by recently? She's expecting us but neglected to give us meeting point."
After a full belly of Owl Bear meat. Stary is in a happy mood, walking along side Wizzer. Seeing the spices merchant, Wizzer moves to him to get some general spices. Owl bear meat is hearthy, but not that tasty. "I would like a handful of garlic, peppers both sweet and hot, sliced ginger. several lemons and limes. How much would that be?
Unk simply nods enthusiastically as Junior attempts to obtain pickles of the doozy variety, his eyes wide with excitement.
Snowball turns around and covers her eyes with one paw.
The pickle vendor motions to the very visible and very legible sign just above his head. It informs Wizzer that a jar of pickles of any variety is 1 silver piece, a pot of pickles is 1 gold piece, and an entire barrel costs 10 gold. Considering his order, Wizzer owes 5 silver.
The vendor is confused by Junior’s inquiry about ‘doozey’ pickles, “Aye ye must be meanin’ ‘boozey’ pickles. Aye I’ve got those right here.” He fetches a jar of pickled cucumbers in a deep amber brine, “These here is some beer-brined pickles, made with Davenport Porter, brewed right here in Davenport,” he explains with pride.
At the mention of Kivi he simply shrugs, “Davenport’s a big place. Lotsa folks be comin’ and a’goin’. If yer lookin’ ta meet up with the lass, more than likely she’s holed up at the Sufferin’ Succotash, best tavern in town.”
Wizzer hands Unk a pickle and says. "Now, no more pickles for you until further notice.
Junior hands the pickle merchant a platinum piece and exclaims, "Excellent!" Juggling the jars of pickles he somehow manages to hold a gold coin up to his ear for a moment and nods, "Ok Fred but pace yourself." He then opens a jar and puts the coin into the beer-brine pickle jar and stowing it away in his pack but not before taking out two large ones and shoving them in his mouth.
The pickle vendor lifts a curious eyebrow at the group, but is happy to make the sale nonetheless. After counting the coin, he lets Wizzer know which stalls he usually gets his spices from and points him in the right direction.
He points to a small red badge tacked to the post of his stall, “Word o’ the wise. If’n ye see this here plaque, it means the vendor be part o’ the Fogshot Trade Emporium, which means ye’ll be gettin’ the best prices in town. Best o’ days te ye lads.”
Unk accepts the pickle from Wizzer with both hands and a "Thank you!"
Foreseeing a dearth of sour crispiness in his future, he very slowly (and uncharacteristically quietly) consumes his pickle as he follows the others towards the Sufferin' Succotash.
Wizzer nods to the merc, "Many thanks." he gives him an extra silver for the tip. "It's always good to know good vendors."
The Sufferin’ Succotash lies further into the heart of Davenport, on the main road which leads up the hill toward the city’s sanctum. A light crowd mingles across the front porch and yard of the establishment, enjoying what cool sea breeze the evening has to offer. Inside it is dimly lit, a few candles and fewer chandeliers light a large, mostly empty, common area. The bar is parked in the rear of the room with two occupants, one, a well manicured human male, assumed barkeep, keeps busy washing and polishing the various mugs, flutes, and steins. At the other end of the bar, slumped over on a stool, is a matronly half-orc woman, passed out with a single hand loosely gripped onto a half full bottle of almost black liquor, the other arm hangs loosely to her side.
Unk pats Junior on the back with a magic infused hand, giving him a brief view into the immediate future. "I foresee that you're the one who should ask about miss kiwi!"
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Junior pulls out the jar of boozey pickles with a gold coin in it and says, "No Fred you're already drunk. I think you need a lie down." He fishes the coin out and wraps it in a silk handkerchief putting Fred away.
Bolstered by Unk's aid Junior smiles at the barkeep while taking a seat next to the passed out half-ork, "Ma'am." He starts saying, "My good man..." but then sees the barkeep's hands, "Oh my you must tell me who does your nails! They're simply marvelous." Junior examines his own hands and comments, "I just get so many hang nails; I deal with them but that just makes it worse!" Junior flexes his forearm and brags, "It's probably because I wrestle with owlbears every other day." He then gives the dapper gentlemen a dashing wink.
After introducing himself and his friends junior asks, "Have you seen a Miss Kiwi come by lately? Perhaps recently laden with shopping spoils?" Junior describes Kivi.
"Ale would likely help me achieve perfection. I think it is time to end my fast."
Matra drags a stool next to Uric and calls for the keep as well. "Make that two keep! And let's line up the next two as well."
The bartender looks up at the suddenly approaching group. His eyes raised as he looks at each one, even the cats. Before he turns to fetch the ales for Uric and Matra, he turns a sidelong glance to the heavily inebriated half-orc matron and drawls from under his waxed mustache, “Miss Jamba, these gentlemen are here to see you.”
The half-orc half-consciously moans.
Junior frowns having struck out, "A pineapple daiquiri then." He turns to miss Jamba and looks at her expectantly.
The bartender gives Junior another raise eyebrow and pours him a shot of rum.
“Hrmm?” The inebriated half-orc lifts her bleary-eyed head toward Junior. She seems to have a hard time focusing. “Whu... whu d’you wanna?”
Junior's eyes brightens up, "Why you must be a distant relation to the mayor! What was his name? Lord Fossil?" Junior uncaps a boozey pickle jar and offers it to the half-ork, "Say do you know where miss Kiwi Fossil went to? Perhaps she came to visit family."
Seeing the necklace, Wizzer marvels about its beauty. Not knowing much if any of its history, he shrugs and lets Junior do the talking. All the while, stroking Stary's head.
Unk sees the Fosbil crest on the matron's silver necklace and 'helps' Junior.
"I think that's right, she has Lord Fossil's crest on that amulet!
Please try Junior's boozey pickle brine, I forsee it helping you to sober up!"
The bartender pours Jamba a shot from Junior’s pickle jar. She shoots it down, reels a bit, the grabs the jar from Juinior’s hands and begins chugging pickle juice. After a satisfying burp, she takes a pickle from the jar and hands it back to Junior.
“Thanks lad, I suppose I been needin’ that. Oh lord, I have done failed ye.” She begins to shake as tears roll down her plump cheeks. “I suppose Lord Fosbil done sent ye ta punish me. Well I get what I deserve. All I had ta do was look after the lass, but I couldn’t do that much.”
She turns to Junior and the group with pleading, tearful eyes, “Please don’t take me back. I can’t face m’Lord after I done lost his one and only daughter. Tell him... tell him ye found me but I was already dead. ‘Bout good as dead anyways.” She breaks down into sobs and begins crunching into the pickle.
Seeing how things are progressing, the bartender leans against the bar and smoothes the curls of his mustache, “Gentlemen, if I may. Jamba has been a good patron, using her master’s credit to drown her sorrows in many a bottle. If it is the Mistress Kivi you are looking for, I will tell you this. Word is she was kidnapped, taken by Lord Fogshot’s agents for ransom. I’d seek her out along the waterfront docks, but be careful, Fogshot’s agents are a’plenty.”
He taps his nose then goes back to cleaning mugs.
"What are sorrows? Can they really fit in a bottle? I don't think the feeling kind of sorrow can drown..." Unk's confused expression evaporates as his cat, Snowball, pulls on his pants with her teeth.
"Oh yes of course, Snowball! Thank you, kind sir. I foresee boats in our future!" Unk heads out the door and starts heading away from the water before his cat bites into his pants, reminding him to wait for his allies.
"A type of birb perhaps?"
Junior proclaims, "Never fear my dear! We'll save miss Kiwi from the awful lord Foghorn!" Junior turns dramatically so as to throw back his cape to make it look like its blowing in the wind, but he bumps his elbow into a barstool striking his funny bone. He cries out in pain and looses balance tipping into a nearby pool game.
"Sounds like just the kind of daring assignment we've been looking for." Yarin turns to his allies. "What do you say, gents? Head to the docks and risk life and limb for a rescue?"
Matra shotguns one ale and chugs the other immediately after. Both are gone in a matter of minutes.
"No time like the present. Let's go see what kind of trouble we can find." He turns and addresses the half-orc.
"Perhaps you would like to accompany us? If you aid in the recovery of that which was lost then it will be like you never lost it in the first place."
The distraught Jamba looks to Matra and then to the departing party. The bartender facepalms at Junior’s exit. Jamba grabs the bottle of black liquor off the bar and stumbles off with the adventurers, slurring, “Let’s show ‘em!”
Jamba, staggering through the streets, leads the group down to the waterfront. The city here is bustling with business and trade. Tall masted ships lie in harbor, flying flags from distant shores. The wharfs and piers are busy with porters unloading and loading ships of their trade goods. At the other end of the long wharf, smaller, local boats gather with the day’s catch, and a large fish market is set up where the local populace haggle for tonight’s dinner.
Junior spends a couple of hours talking to sailor, stevedores, and fisherfolk asking if anyone's seen Fogshot's men or if they've seen anyone matching Kivi's description.
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Junior remembers the advice the pickle vendor gave them and is soon to spot the red badges that mark a business to be under the purview of Lord Fogshot. Starting with lowly dockhands and working his way up to vendor stalls and eventually storefronts, Junior quickly builds up enough evidence to construct a narrative. Rumor is, a young halfling woman matching Kivi’s description had been asking around for Aangas Fogshot, first born son of Lord Fogshot, and Captain of the Fogshot Trade Emporium. Soon after, Aangas Fogshot had gone missing, leaving the Fogshot Trade Emporium in chaos, and Lord Fogshot furious. Many suspect agents of Lord Fosbil, Lord Fogshot’s longtime rival, were responsible for the young merchant prince’s disappearance. In fact, a bounty has been placed by Lord Fogshot for anyone associated with Lord Fosbil. Wait... Why are you asking? Hey! who are you anyway?!
Finding he had stirred up too much suspicion, Junior begins to look elsewhere. Among the local fisherman, he finds a new lead. A young halfling couple had chartered a boat out to the Dragon Isles, the rocky chain of islands which mark the entrance to the bay. The craft that took them out there, ‘The Buxom Albatross’, and her Captain, haven’t been seen since.
After Junior returns and explains something plausibly related to what he learned, Unk scratches his head before replying.
"So, think we should go to the Dragon Isles? I'm afraid I don't know how to swim very well..."
Spell-like Abilities
. 6/8 Diviner's Fortune
. 1/1 Stabilize
Spells Prepared
. 2nd 3+1/day {S} See Invisibility, Flaming Sphere (DC 17), Glitterdust (DC 17) [x2]
. 1st 5+1/day {S} Identify, Celestial Healing, Enlarge Person, Fastidiousness, Grease (DC 16) [x2]
. 0 (at will) Detect Magic, Light, Message, Ray of Frost
Junior suggested, "Maybe we could fly? Flying would be better than swimming. But if we have to swim maybe we can get you some floaties."
Wizzer smiles, "Flying or swimming, either works well with me. Even Stary wouldn't mind a bath.
Jamba blinks several times and stares at the group, "How's it y'all intend on flyin'?"
Snowball mewls.
"That's right, Snowball. 'Meow'. Also, I'm afraid I don't know any flying magics. Maybe we can just borrow a ship like Ms Kiwi?"
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Junior visibly slumps at Snowball's suggestion but doesn't say anything.
"I'd love to fly, Junior. Unfortunately I don't have that kind of magic either. Any ideas?"
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Junior looks sad. He drags his feet and approaches a sailor, "Tickets to Dragon Isles please."
The sailor gives Junior a confused look and simply walks away. The more people he asks, the more grumbling headhsakes he gets in response. Finally, one fisherman walks up to Junior. He’s elderly, white stubble on a crinkled face, skin browned from a lifetime fishing the reefs of the bay. He tips his hat at the bard, “Aye. I hears yer lookin’ fer a boat out ta the Isles. The Isles be dangerous territory me boy, home of many a nefarious monster. The don’t call ‘em the Dragon Isles fer nuthin’. Ye sure ye want ta go? Aye, I’ll take the lot o’ ye. Might as well spend the last o’ me days watchin’ young laddies get eaten by some harpies or fishmen or by Briverynth the Emerald Death. Har har har har har!”
Jamba bids farewell as the rickety fishing boat sails off. However, the Dragon Isles are many in number, and no one is sure which one Kivi may be on.
Elated Junior smiles, "Sounds like a good time to me!"
Wizzer looks out at the Isles and smiles. "Its a nice view. What do you think is out there on those isles?
"Dragons?" Unk guesses, looking around and rubbing his beard.
Snowball hides under one of Unk's arms and tries to look out of the boat from her slightly safer perch.