"How do I fight? Proficiently, Sir. Proficiently." He smiles "Also, as I can heal myself after, I tend to look prettier than others after a fight too."
Myri can't stifle a laugh at Dyrm's utter confidence. She shakes her head and looks over to Nusku.
"My fighting style isn't that complicated. I tear into people, fangs first. Just beware the splatter and you'll be fine. Looking pretty is overrated." Nusku explains simply and bluntly before nodding to Pike and heading back to the quarters. "Oh good, more time to dream." He thinks to himself before taking a long breath and nodding off in his hammock.
"I draw power from significant objects," Myri says with pride while unslinging an ancient, weatherbeaten battleaxe. "I can infuse this bad boy with the whole weight of its history, so it can crush anything that gets in my way." Then, she pats her thick woolen black mage's cloak with a smirk. "And I can draw magic out of my cloak that shields me from more than just the cold."
"Works for me," Mr. Pike says, shrugging. "So tell me about how you fight. Let me know what to expect from you all."
"Just don't take chunks out of the ship when you swing that thing," Mr. Pike says, dryly.
"How do I fight? Proficiently, Sir. Proficiently." He smiles "Also, as I can heal myself after, I tend to look prettier than others after a fight too."
"Your looks don't matter as much to me as you might think, brother," the first mate replies. "The healing's welcome, but I'd like to know just what kind of weapon you use. We had a hire a few years back who said he was a master of battle. Come the first swarm of Skeeters, and he whipped out flaming arrows! Nearly sank the ship."
"My fighting style isn't that complicated. I tear into people, fangs first. Just beware the splatter and you'll be fine. Looking pretty is overrated." Nusku explains simply and bluntly before nodding to Pike and heading back to the quarters.
"It suits you," Mr. Pike says. "Got anything besides teeth to fight with? If not, we can probably spare you a dagger or a club for the trip. Capn'll charge ya for it, fair warning."
The young lady gives Horleg an amiable smile and nods. Isn't fishing just standing around with a stick in the water? How hard could it be?
"Yeah, I'm great at fishing," she lies. "What time do I need to get up for breakfast?"
"Dawn," Horleg replies, shrugging. "Breakfast runs in two shifts; first the late night shift gets to eat, then the early morning shift. Come on, I'll show ya where we keep the tackle."
Horleg is good for his word, showing Myriad where the ship's rods and reels are, the boxes of hooks and lures ... and a big old jar of live nightcrawlers. He expertly impales one of the unaesthetic little creatures on a hook and tosses out a line, letting it trail behind the ship.
"Don't mind if you prick your thumb a bit," he says. "Might draw some of the bigger, stroppier fish. Now, the trick here's to keep one eye on your line and the other on the world all around us. See them others fishin'?"
Myri can, indeed, see several other sailors working with fishing rods or trailing nets in the water while the rest of the crew on deck toils with ropes and turns the cranks that keep the paddle-wheels going.
"See how they're standing? One eye on the fishing, one eye for the world, and we keep the whole world around the ship covered. You done this sort of thing before, Missy?"
On their way back to the room, Dyrm and Nusku can hear Captain Amlegger shouting about something from the direction of the crew's galley / kitchen. Only Nusku can recognize the voice of Cook, trying to soothe the Captain's ire, but it seems he is having none of it.
Nusku shrugs at Mister Pike's suggestion. "Thanks for the advice, but I've done well enough so far. Sides, I don't wanna deal with the captain more than I have to." Nusku responds before heading back to the bunk. When he hears the captain yelling at Cook, the Su-Rog decides to walk towards the galley/kitchen to figure out what is going on.
Myri trudges along with Horleg and takes a look at the provided fishing equipment. Her nose wrinkles in amusement when he hooks the worm, and she tries it out herself. "Don't worry, I've had to keep an eye out my whole life. I've got this."
"Your looks don't matter as much to me as you might think, brother," the first mate replies. "The healing's welcome, but I'd like to know just what kind of weapon you use. We had a hire a few years back who said he was a master of battle. Come the first swarm of Skeeters, and he whipped out flaming arrows! Nearly sank the ship."
"You misunderstand part of what I said, sir. I'm contracted as a guard, not a healer, if your captain wants to pay for my healing he'll have to reconsider" Wrly "Mind you, I'm feeling more generous to you yourself. I use a morningstar, but have a javelin handy. Neither is on fire" He assures.
While Myri tries her hand at fishing, she spots something by the waterside. A clump of reeds, crudely woven together and glued by something that glistens and oozes. Mosquito-like creatures the size of ladies' lapdogs buzz and dance around the clump, just like regular bugs do. Their attention seems to be all on each other, with none to spare for the ship.
"Skeeters," Horleg whispers, troubled. "Don't normally spawn this close to the city, they do. More of the damn' bugs every year."
The First Mate grins apppreciatively, then dismisses you.
"Go on, get some sleep. You'll need it."
As you wander away from the pilot-box, the sound of Captain Amlegger shouting leads you to the ship's galley. It's Dyrm's first time there, and his first time seeing Cook.
The Zlapav is neither tall nor wide in their natural form, but they're straining for every inch to cover the ship's boy, who is cowering behind them. Captain Amlegger towers over them both, shouting something incoherent about 'baking grease' and 'hands'.
Cook finally manages to get a few words in: "It's not baking grease, it's the same stuff I use for everyone else's hands when they get cut by rope. He'll need to toughen them up if he decides to stay on for a sailor. And he seems eager enough. So what is your problem?"
Captain Amlegger slaps Cook in the face, sending the snowy-skinned creature sprawling. The ship's boy cries out with dismay...
Nusku will move over to help Cook as the Zlapav was a good enough sort and definitely did not deserve this abuse. "If you think that someone is giving away baking grease, you must be a bigger sod than I thought. I doubt that the abuse is this ones contract." He sneers at the captain.
Dyrm grins back and makes a plan to get that sleep when he can then.
As you wander away from the pilot-box, the sound of Captain Amlegger shouting leads you to the ship's galley. It's Dyrm's first time there, and his first time seeing Cook.
The Zlapav is neither tall nor wide in their natural form, but they're straining for every inch to cover the ship's boy, who is cowering behind them. Captain Amlegger towers over them both, shouting something incoherent about 'baking grease' and 'hands'.
Cook finally manages to get a few words in: "It's not baking grease, it's the same stuff I use for everyone else's hands when they get cut by rope. He'll need to toughen them up if he decides to stay on for a sailor. And he seems eager enough. So what is your problem?"
Captain Amlegger slaps Cook in the face, sending the snowy-skinned creature sprawling. The ship's boy cries out with dismay...
Nusku will move over to help Cook as the Zlapav was a good enough sort and definitely did not deserve this abuse. "If you think that someone is giving away baking grease, you must be a bigger sod than I thought. I doubt that the abuse is this ones contract." He sneers at the captain.
Oh dear. The dwarf says "Captain, I thought you didn't eat with the crew?" hoping to find a way to defuse this.
Myri squirms a little looking at the creatures and asks, "Are they dangerous? Are they likely to come after us?"
Myri squirms a little looking at the creatures and asks, "Are they dangerous? Are they likely to come after us?"
Horleg gives you an incredulous look.
"Gel, you never heard of a Skeeter before? Damn things build nests like those every autumn, they spawn like rabbits, the males drop dead, then the females feed up on blood so's they can lay their eggs in the clump.If'n we're still within smelling range of the filthy buggers come nightfall, they'll be after us like... well, like flies on stink. They got good eyesight for firelight, and they can smell warm bodies."
Oh dear. The dwarf says "Captain, I thought you didn't eat with the crew?" hoping to find a way to defuse this.
"This is my ship!" Amlegger rages, clearly furious. "You all work for me! I can go wherever I bloody well want! I-"
"If you think that someone is giving away baking grease, you must be a bigger sod than I thought. I doubt that the abuse is this ones contract." He sneers at the captain.
"'s Not," Cook slurs, punch-drunk but already glaring at the captain. "This calls for renegotiation, I think. That or arbitration."
Captain S.H. Amlegger visibly pales. When he speaks again, his voice is unctuous and diplomatic: "Now, now... This is a ship. Little accidents will happen. No need to rock the boat, as it were, is there...?"
The Captain utters a fake-sounding, high-pitched little laugh at his own joke.
"An excellent point, Nusku," And a nod to the Cook "What pray tell, did your contract specify?"
Nusku just smirks as the captain's resolve falters. It's not often that this Su-Rog outwits someone so he will revel in it a bit. He just turns his head to look at Cook.
"I. Cook. Food," the Zlapav replies through clenched teeth as it uses Nusku's help to get back to its feet. "For the crew. Not for guests, paying or otherwise. I keep the galley clean. I patch up folks if they come to me hurt. Don't get supplied with ingredients to make my salves, medicines and poultices, neither. I sure as spit didn't sign on to be a punching bag, Athelgarde take your eyes and Zeber-Oht boil your living brain in vinegar!"
This last epithet is spat at the Captain, who flinches and looks furious, but can't seem to find anything to say.
Myri squirms a little looking at the creatures and asks, "Are they dangerous? Are they likely to come after us?"Horleg gives you an incredulous look.
"Gel, you never heard of a Skeeter before? Damn things build nests like those every autumn, they spawn like rabbits, the males drop dead, then the females feed up on blood so's they can lay their eggs in the clump.If'n we're still within smelling range of the filthy buggers come nightfall, they'll be after us like... well, like flies on stink. They got good eyesight for firelight, and they can smell warm bodies."
"Oh, THOSE! We call them...biters, where I come from."
She resolves to keep her mouth shut and fish. She tosses her line back in and stares sullenly around the riverside.
"I wonder what does happen if the contract is breached." Nusku has no idea what the last part of what Cook said meant, but it sounded serious at least.
"A good question" The dwarf says. He ponders how this might go.. alas, the slang is lost on him. But if a contract has been broken.. and it seems it has, his faith becomes a factor.
Horleg smirks a bit at Myriad. "Biters, aye? And them with no teeth."
The crusty old sailor lets out a growling laugh, and casts out his line again.
"Don't fret none, girl. If ya never heard the buzz of a Skeeter, ya lived a charmed life. Aku-Dev an' Juli-Sul stab me ole ass with tridents if y'ain't. Tha's naught ta be ashamed of, even if it makes life out here trickier for ya. May as be ye want ta put fresh bait on yer hook; looks ta me like somethin's made off with the first one."
= = = = = = = = = = = =
"It's not an issue, because it's not happening!" Captain Amlegger snaps. "We have a contract--!"
"Yeah, only mine has an escape clause!" Cook snaps right back. "I can walk whenever this rickety tub is at anchor, 'cause I wasn't dumb enough not to take out an escape clause as soon as you started flapping your gums!"
The Vitor Captain turns pale, then almost purple with rage -- but the Zlapav doesn't blink or hesitate.
"You think you can bully or slap me down, you old dog-robber, you better think again! We both signed the contract, even if I was the only one doing it with good grace, and we both swore it to the gods. All of them. You mind you keep your word; it's all you got, really."
Amlegger drags the tatters of his dignity around himself, the way a beggar might an old coat.
"Then you mind you keep yours," he says, his voice hoarse. "I may not renew your contract after this trip, Zlapav. In fact, I'd be mighty--highly surprised if I did."
He snaps his fingers at the ship's boy, then turns on his heel and strides away. The boy gives you all a helpless look, then runs off after his captain.
"Suits me fine," Cook mutters darkly, glaring at Amlegger's retreating back. "Ruddy old goat of a man. Swear he gets worse every trip..."
I Do believe my theologial leanings may require me to take part in this as it unfolds. Ah well. Once the captain is gone, the dwarf inquires "Cook, would I be right in guessing that Ulla the Gray was among the 'all of them' you spoke of? Gods wise that you swore to?"
Cook does not meet Dyrm's eyes when they reply: "Yeah - Yes, o'course I did, padre. You saw the plankard in the ship's shrine, right? Your Grey Lady's on there. So yeah, of course I did. Why not? Lots of Zlapav have Ulla as their main patron. I got nothing against her."
"You alright Cook? Well, if this doesn't work out, I'm sure the Guild could use your services."
Cook does not meet Dyrm's eyes when they reply: "Yeah - Yes, o'course I did, padre. You saw the plankard in the ship's shrine, right? Your Grey Lady's on there. So yeah, of course I did. Why not? Lots of Zlapav have Ulla as their main patron. I got nothing against her."
"Just that if I find out the Captain has violated an Oath to my lady, he best hope my own contract is in his favor." Said with a smile "And if you're a follower of Ulla, and need healing..well, that's a matter I can offer at my own wish."
You alright Cook? Well, if this doesn't work out, I'm sure the Guild could use your services."
"Quite right. We maybe heading to ah, shall we say, a provincial area, but I'm sure you'd be welcome."
"You alright Cook? Well, if this doesn't work out, I'm sure the Guild could use your services."
The Zlapav chuckles at this. "Weeeell, I'm just a cook, mind. I mean, I can patch folks up a bit, but not magical-like. Still, if the Guild's got a job for a cook, then I'm a cook who's willing to do a job -- uh, s'long as I get paid, yeah? I got to eat, too."
"Just that if I find out the Captain has violated an Oath to my lady, he best hope my own contract is in his favor." Said with a smile "And if you're a follower of Ulla, and need healing..well, that's a matter I can offer at my own wish."
"Well, that's a bit above my pay grade, padre," the Zlapav says, their chuckle turning a bit ... pained ... at the corners. "Sorry to disappoint, but I just drop a few coins in the Grey Lady's offering-block on appropriate days. My patron of choice is Ohiro. They were a fry-cook as well as all the rest, back when they were a mortal, you know.
Just a shame Ohiro weren't a sailor, or the old goat would've had to swear to my god as well as the rest, and he'd probably've had a nasty case of boils on the ass by now. Ohiro's a kind god, but he has a ... sense of humour when it comes to punishing folks.""We maybe heading to ah, shall we say, a provincial area, but I'm sure you'd be welcome."
"Rural folks like big meals," Cook says, perking up a bit. "Comes with all the hard work. You might not get rich, cooking for an inn in rural places, but you'll never go all the way broke. Or starve. That's quite the comfort."
"Exactly, no one is gonna turn down a chance for a good meal. Long as you get paid enough to live, everyone wins. Besides, I think rural folks will appreciate it more anyhow."
The dwarven priest nods chuckles "Appreciate your honesty, cook, and I do believe you have the right of it regarding rural cooking. Perhaps there are opportunities to be had for us all." Still not sure how I'm supposed to teach milkmaids how to be killers or thieves but, oh well. The Gray Lady provides.
Myri glowers a little bit at Horleg's spot-on read of her and doesn't bother denying it. She brings her line in and her glower deepens as she examines her now-bare hook. "Hey, the fish took the bait and I didn't even catch anything! Thats not fair!" She pouts as she slips another worm on to the hook and casts the line again, but before long the pout has disappeared and she relaxes, watching the river again. "How long have you been sailing the Wazoo, Mr. Horleg?"
Myri glowers a little bit at Horleg's spot-on read of her and doesn't bother denying it. She brings her line in and her glower deepens as she examines her now-bare hook. "Hey, the fish took the bait and I didn't even catch anything! Thats not fair!"
Horleg utters another growling laugh, the network of fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. "Arr, don't fret none, girlie. Ye made some fish right happy, makin' it feel clever. Not often a fish gets ta feel clever." He chuckles at his own joke, eyes twinkling.
She pouts as she slips another worm on to the hook and casts the line again, but before long the pout has disappeared and she relaxes, watching the river again. "How long have you been sailing the Wazoo, Mr. Horleg?"
"Don't do much counting, lass," Horleg says, musingly. "Ten? Maybe twelve years? Thereabouts. About thirty years on Aku-Dev's ocean before that, s'pose. Finally got ta be a bit too ragged fer me ole cap'n, what with one thing and another falling or gettin' cut off me carcass, so he cut me loose in Harborton, down at the end'o the Wazoo. Signed up on the first riverboat ta stop, an' that was this ole girl. She'd sink within five minutes if ya took her out ta sea, but she's plenty good fer tha Wazoo. Wouldn' know what ta do with meself if I weren't a sailor. Walkin' on land makes me wanna sick up."
He gives Myri a twinkly-eyed look. "What's 'bout yerself, girlie? How long ya been a tough-as-nails, ass-kicking, name-taking adventurer? Or maybe ye started as a merc, then took this job 'cos it's easier?"
"Exactly, no one is gonna turn down a chance for a good meal. Long as you get paid enough to live, everyone wins. Besides, I think rural folks will appreciate it more anyhow."
Cook grins at Nusku and shakes their head.
"You haven't seen the feeding frenzies I get here of a morning yet. Hard work, being a sailor. The lads clean their plate! Still, I really might join you and get off this rickety tub at Stickout Port. Wouldn't mind cooking in a kitchen that doesn't rock about with every gust of wind."The dwarven priest nods chuckles "Appreciate your honesty, cook, and I do believe you have the right of it regarding rural cooking. Perhaps there are opportunities to be had for us all." Still not sure how I'm supposed to teach milkmaids how to be killers or thieves but, oh well. The Gray Lady provides.
"I've always wanted to open my own inn," Cook says, in a thoughtful tone of voice. "Ohiro knows I've got the skills, and I could train up some apprentices easy-like. All I'm lacking is the cash. Or just that one golden opportunity. Say, what're you lads off to do at Stickout Port anyway? What's the job? What kind of opportunity'm I looking at?"
]
"I've always wanted to open my own inn," Cook says, in a thoughtful tone of voice. "Ohiro knows I've got the skills, and I could train up some apprentices easy-like. All I'm lacking is the cash. Or just that one golden opportunity. Say, what're you lads off to do at Stickout Port anyway? What's the job? What kind of opportunity'm I looking at?"
"Well ,OUR task is to re-open the Guild branch office and staff it "
"Hm. Adventurers usually have a couple coins to sling around and - no offense - most of you live on hardtack 'cause you can't cook. You got a canteen or a refectory there?" Cook asks.
"Don't forget the booze. I think it'd have those things, right?" Nusku shrugs.
"You know? I'm not sure. I need to check my notes" He laughs
Myri gives Horleg a disgruntled sidelong glare for a while to really let him know how much she appreciates his ribbing and eventually just sniffs and returns to staring at the countryside. After a few beats she relents. "I've been with the Guild...it must be about a year now. Thought I'd be exploring ancient tombs, dusting off ancient relics. Not exploring soggy riverboats and dusting off ancient bills of sale in the annex location. But that's where life's led me."
The days and nights have passed fairly quietly. The trip was monotonous, in fact; so monotonous that you might swear months have passed, instead of days!
"The boat will be putting in stops at Fallingdowns and Proxissima, two minor cities, to pick up passengers and cargo."
SHAmlegger's Prize has chugged gamely down the Wazoo. On the first night, Skeeters buzzed around the circle of light cast by the riverboat's lights, and you though there might be a bit of excitement... except there wasn't. Maybe the Skeeters weren't hungry enough, maybe they were smarter than they should have been. After the first nervous sailor flung a sling-stone in their direction, the swarm scattered in search of easier prey.
"During the lay-over, visit the Adventurers' Guild branch offices. Get your scroll signed by the local Guildmasters, and blessed by the local chaplain."
Dyrm and Nusku have been spending a fair amount of time with Cook; the Zlapav seems keen on joining the Rameii Adventurer's Guild as its resident cook, once you re-open the place. Unfortunately, while Cook is happy with the idea, the rest of the crew has started to mutter and grumble. The prospect of losing a good cook is not a pleasant one. The Dwarf and the Sû-Rog have received a couple of foul looks as a result, and more turns cleaning the day's catch than they might have liked...
"Guildmaster Haggerty's in charge of the Fallingdowns branch office. He's a failed aristocrat, from what I hear; got pulled down for letting down the side in some big plot. He prefers to work at the office. If you can't find him at the office, he'll most likely be at home. Ask the staff to guide you."
...but time moves on, and finally the skyline of Fallingdowns comes heaving into view.
Fallingdowns was built around the King's summer palace. It used to just be one huge supply center for the king and his cronies, so they could enjoy their summer vacation. Even today, Fallingdowns caters to the rich and aristocratic. The difference is, it now caters to disgraced aristocrats and the troubled rich. Fallingdowns is where you go when you can't hack it in La Grande, the nation's capitol, or because it was suggested to you that you should take your business -- and yourself -- elsewhere. Sometimes at daggerpoint, sometimes with more subtle encouragement.
The people of Fallingdowns have a reputation for being even more arrogant than those of La Grande, because they're trying very hard to not show weakness. They want to return to the big city some day. Local merchants are supposed to be greedy cutthroats, looking for every opportunity they can seize to get ahead. Local aristocrats are supposed to be vicious beyond belief, playing political games to rise in the esteem of the people who evicted them.
And this is where SHAmlegger's Prize will dock to take on guests and trade-wares -- and where you get a couple of days' worth of furlough to conduct guild business.
The dock is coming up, and while you notice that it is pristine when compared to the crowded docks of La Grande, it is also much smaller.
Despite this, a small troop of Samurai from the League of Temperance, their armour banded the traditional umber, ivory, rust and black, is patrolling the area. Their banners flutter in the breeze, and manage to look more alive than the hard men's hard faces.
"Halt paddles!" Mr. Pike roars from the pilot's deck. "Down sails! Ready anchor!"
Dyrm and Nusku have been spending a fair amount of time with Cook; the Zlapav seems keen on joining the Rameii Adventurer's Guild as its resident cook, once you re-open the place. Unfortunately, while Cook is happy with the idea, the rest of the crew has started to mutter and grumble. The prospect of losing a good cook is not a pleasant one. The Dwarf and the Sû-Rog have received a couple of foul looks as a result, and more turns cleaning the day's catch than they might have liked...
Drym tries to make some slight amends, by (Covertly) giving lessons in how to read the contracts they have, and how to re-up with better ones. He doesn't push that hard though.
"Halt paddles!" Mr. Pike roars from the pilot's deck. "Down sails! Ready anchor!"
"I wonder if we'll get any new passengers or crew?" A pause "and if our ..delightful captain will treat them as warmly as he did us."
Nusku on the other hand ignores the dirty looks from the other crewmates. If they wanted a good cook, they could go get one. Though the thought of getting off the boat did put a smile on the Su-Rog's face. "More people who might get fed up and smack the Captain around? That'd be nice. Let's just get off this boat and maybe we'll get to do some actual work for the guild."
"Ah, you are the voice of common sense, Nuska. Indeed." He is ready to depart with the other two
Myri joins Dyrm and Nusku with a wary eye to the city. She pulls the hood of her mantle as far forward as it goes, trying to remain unseen and unrecognized under the protective cover of the hood. Fallingdowns may be the refuge of displaced nobles, but even that would be a step up for her...
She looks to Dyrm, eyes glinting from the shadows, and asks "You have what we need to get signed?"
SHAmlegger's Prize docks with only the lightest scrape of hull against dock. Unfortunately, even that light scrape is enough to set off captain Amlegger; the captain harangues his crew, screaming about damage to the fresh paintjob, reducing business opportunities by marring the ship's appearance, and damages subtracted from wages.
A couple of League of Temperence Samurai come marching over and watch the captain throw his wobbler. Their eyes would make those of a lizard look warm and expressive. One has a hawk riding on his shoulder.
In spite of the captain's tirade, the crew works smoothly, and soon SHAmlegger's Prize is tied up at dock. An official from the harbormaster's office comes aboard, and predictably, the captain's attitude does a 180. Now all smiles and obsequious bows, captain Amlegger guides the minor functionary to his 'state room' for drinks and to discuss the mooring fee.
It is first mate Pike who comes to see you.
"Cap'n said the three of you have business in the city," he says without preamble. "Fine with me. Fallingdowns is as safe as anyplace, except for La Grande. League of Temperence will gut a man for the first offense, and there generally isn't a second offense."
(The first mate gives Dyrm a meaningful look after having said this.)
"The Prize will be tied up at dock for three days, three nights. You can come back here to sleep and eat, or you can try your luck in the city. If you want to stay off-ship, try not to get into debt, 'cause we won't bail you out. Also, don't be late in coming back, 'cause we're not waiting, and the cap'n will send the Debt Collectors after you for breach of contract, see if he won't."
"Anyway, be about your business before cap'n's done with the harbormaster," first mate Pike says, soberly. "Else he'll have you at work loading cargo or fetching and babysitting his guests on the way on board. I got no idea how much time you need for yours, but cap'n would prob'ly only leave you a cold minute of furlough to get it done."
You disembark and make your way out of the harbor area.
Those two Samurai watch you go, their eyes flat, lifeless and unreadable, but make no effort to stop you.
As you make your way away from the harbor, you come to see why Fallingdowns is still known as a city of the aristocracy. Everything is so clean, every glass pane sparkles, there's no litter in the street, the trees that line the streets and provide shade to pedestrians have been trimmed and pruned to perfection.
While there is nothing so gauche as a roadside stall, there are dozens of shops lining the streets, all of them clearly advertising their wares.
The people walking the streets are mainly Gelnet, their forehead gems gleaming, their clothes the most fashionable of all. However, there are members of the other races as well, all of them appearing to compete as to who can show the most refined taste and opulence in self-decoration. You see a rather incongruous Zlapav, their back and chest displaying an exquisite tattoo, and a beauty on each arm; a Gelnet on the left, a Malinger on the right. A male Herder trails behind them, his demeanor and leather armour practically shouting the word 'BODYGUARD'.
The whole city smells of wealth, the trees smell of late summer, and the cafés smell of fancy food. Now you just need to find out where the Adventurers' Guild branch office is...
Nusku sticks out like a sore thumb as he is not anywhere near refined enough to be here. "Someone is about to know that we're here. Those two samurai sent a message somewhere just now." He whispers to his companions. After giving the warning the Su-Rog looks around for some landmark or sign of the guild office.
Myri joins Dyrm and Nusku with a wary eye to the city. She pulls the hood of her mantle as far forward as it goes, trying to remain unseen and unrecognized under the protective cover of the hood. Fallingdowns may be the refuge of displaced nobles, but even that would be a step up for her...
She looks to Dyrm, eyes glinting from the shadows, and asks "You have what we need to get signed?"
A nod , "I'm keeping things with me " And he has religiously (No pun intended) being just a wee bit paranoid on this ship lest the captain get sticky fingers
"The Prize will be tied up at dock for three days, three nights. You can come back here to sleep and eat, or you can try your luck in the city. If you want to stay off-ship, try not to get into debt, 'cause we won't bail you out. Also, don't be late in coming back, 'cause we're not waiting, and the cap'n will send the Debt Collectors after you for breach of contract, see if he won't."
"Thank you, sir, but I know of the Debt collectors , be assured. Militant ...well mercenary sect to say the least. They and I disagree on some of the scripture."
Nusku sticks out like a sore thumb as he is not anywhere near refined enough to be here. "Someone is about to know that we're here. Those two samurai sent a message somewhere just now." He whispers to his companions. After giving the warning the Su-Rog looks around for some landmark or sign of the guild
At that, Drym stiffens, "Ulla bless your keen eyes, friend. Someone knew we were coming and had folks waiting for us specicially perhaps? Possible, but it does not bode well."
Such a shame too, the luxury in this town appeals to Dyrm, though he'd prefer it with a dash less pretention, but it is clear this is no time for casual carousing or even lowering ones guard down "We best keep moving for now."
Myri gives Pike an appreciative nod as they leave. When Nusku mentions the message being passed, she rolls her eyes and heaves a dramatic sigh. "Well let's get after it then. If I need to be on good behaviour, let's try to get through before their message throws a spanner into the works."
Looking around, Nusku fails to see anything so helpful as a little sign that says 'ADVENTURERS' GUILD THIS WAY', but he does see some other things.
* There's a relatively small shop, what you can see of it through the window cluttered with all manner of things. Although everything looks clean enough, you don't have a high opinion of the pedigree of most of the merchandise. A relatively large sign above the door reads 'EVERYTHIN YOU WANNA'.
* A panhandler is huddling in a narrow side-alley. Large, fearful eyes gaze out at the street, constantly judging every passerby for their qualities as either an easy mark and source of income, or else a threat.
* Among the higher buildings, you see the steeples of various temples. You recognize the holy symbols of Aku-Dev, Ash-Kta, Laut-Hawyn, Ma-Oth-La, Ulla and Zeber-Oht. Some of these are patrons of the Adventurers' Guild.
* And then you notice the occasional pair of Samurai of the League of Temperence, patrolling the streets. Presumably you could ask them for directions -- or else one of the very fancy passers-by. There's that Zlapav with his bodyguard and the two underdressed beauties following him around. You also see a handsome Gelnet, his gem shaded green, having a muted argument with a Dwarf nearby.
"I would suggest we drop by the temple of Ulla and see if we can get directions, but I'm open to suggestions."
And he does head that way if no one has better ones.
"That's better than anything I got. Lead the way."
The temple of Ulla sits at the edge of the city's business district, reflecting both her importance due to her connection to business and contracts... and the danger she poses due to her connection to theft and other crimes.
A quartet of Samurai from the League of Temperence is positioned on the street around the temple, openly staring at Ulla's house in Fallingdowns, their faces hard and their eyes unreadable.
Four Ninjas in Ulla's sacred colour stands opposite them, returning the stare impassively. (And more than likely more are watching from hiding, given the nature of the faith.)
There's a fairly steady stream of traffic in and out of the elegant, granite building all the same. Most are well-groomed Vitor, likely lesser functionaries of the various merchant houses, conglomerates and manufacturers in the area. The ones going in openly carry what appear to be bags and boxes of money. Those coming out carry illuminated scrolls certifying that the building under the seal of said scrolls are to be spared the attentions of any Guild-affiliated thief, and that violations of this protection will be met with the spiked boot of lawlessness.
Two lion-shaped offering-boxes flank the open double doors, discrete signs proclaiming that a voluntary donation of five copper coins equates immunity to any unsolicited crime while on the premises.
Past the double door is the kind of foyer you might expect in a wealthy merchant's guild; muted lighting, red velvet, gilded woodwork, tasteful music coming from behind a curtain, a helpful chart on the east wall showing the currently best-yielding stock values, and a pair of Clerics behind a big desk receiving visitors. One Cleric is cheerfully receiving protection money donations from the functionaries and handing out the illuminated scrolls. The other, older Cleric is receiving guests with other business, and directs them through one of two large doors in the back wall.
"Brethren" He says as he enters trying not to visibly wince at the cost of the extortion tithe. He should be immune as a member of the faith he hopes, but best not to chance it. He puts in five copper for his and he hopes his friends protection. "The blessings of the Resolved one upon us all."
When he has a chance to adress one of the clerics, he asks "I am Dyrmworth Stanton Copperbeard The First, recently from La Grande's own temple. It was my hope I and my allies could receive some guidance to the local adventurer's guild and perhaps other locations here. Would there be perchance a map of the city here?"
Nusku will keep on the lookout for more suspicious folks acting suspicious but keeps his mouth shut as Dyrm does all the talking.