"We're almost outta here. Now, if we can clear the door..." Swayaah Strides twice, right up to the crowd.
"Get outta my way!"
This time, her scream turns unearthly and she's able to project a bit of mom into her primal yell.
The tengu take off in terror at the tiefling's tirade.
Having made your way clear of the bar fight that Fane had started, you can make your way back to Hlar’s boat, contract in hand.
"You again?" inquires the old diver upon seeing you as she pockets the last of her newly-obtained coins. "Did you get lost? Surely, you aren't ready to depart. I'd hate to have to row you all the back out to that sandbar, having just arrived back in town!"
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"Well...I could use something to eat. Preferably at a brawl-less tavern."
Arlo pauses for a moment.
Wait. That might not have come out quite the way I intended..."
Marigold cackles at Arlo’s faux pas. ”Are ya sure?”, she asks with a wink.
Turning to Hlar, she says, ”He’s got the right idea, though. Where would you go, if you were us?”
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Councilman Professor Serj Harlequinn grows visibly irritated.
"So - there is no Contingency if we complete our Mission early? What a strong performative dis-incentive!"
He looks at his Gauntlet Watch, frantically watching the minutes of his time - and money - slip away. He pulls back the rubber encasing, revealing his flesh beneath. "I can already feel myself bleaching!" he thinks as a sense of dread overtakes him.
Somebody should do something! He stands around absolutely fuming - you'd swear steam was coming out of his ears!
Turning to Hlar, she says, ”He’s got the right idea, though. Where would you go, if you were us?”
"Plenty of places'll gladly take your coin in Port Peril." Hril replies. "The Watchtower Gaming Hall and Purveyor of Fine Spirits over in the Eastwind district seems to cater to a lot of out-of-towners, special if you're into gambling and overpriced drinks. As for me, I'd much prefer to head to one of the islets in Crescent Harbor and belly up to the bar at the Last Catch."
Hlar pauses for a moment, then adds, "I should warn you, though. Each of them's been known to host the occasional bar fight."
The party finds plenty to keep it occupied as long as you'd like. Once well-lubricated with a few drinks, Hlar even offers to row you back to the sandbar she originally picked you up at, and leave you with some dried squid and a jar of fresh water.
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Cooling his jets a little, the Professor enjoys the drink, begins spilling the beans on the other Councilmen and Councilwomen back home - secrets he really has no business divulging (but of little consequence outside of their sphere of local government) - being somewhat of a lightweight.
A responsible driver, before heading out from the last pub, he removes his Gauntlet Control Panel and hands it to Shagrat "Don' let unyone p-park it... hollup..." and vomits a 16th time before passing out right on top of Arlo on their way back to Hlar's boat...
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Arlo is at first irritated after the Professor gets sick all over him. After taking a deep breath, he recalls how often he has thrown up on someone (he still has a scar from when vomited on that half-orc mercenary).
"Come professor, let's see if we can find a comfortable place for you to rest for a bit before we get back on the boat. I think the morning is going to come much too soon for you. I just hope we don't run into those tengu who think we want to go out dancing..."
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"Hlar, you're all right." Swayaah burps and then laughs. Her belly is full, she's got a notebook of secrets and rumors to follow, and she's got plenty of names and entertainment to follow up on. "It's good to be out here, just the waves, some ship lights in the distance, and plenty of fish."
She carefully gets off the boat and hops on to the sandbar. Preferably away from the professor. "Thanks a lot, you made a lot of people happy tonight."
She flops onto the sand and just stretches. "I hope they show up soon, this wine ain't gonna drink itself."
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Marigold stumbles out of the tavern with Shagrat, each with an arm around the other’s shoulders. They’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to come up with a rhyme for “poop deck”, and giggling madly.
When the Professor gives Shaggy his Control Panel, she beams. ”We got treasure!”, she declares. ”Now we’re really real pirates! Arrrrrr!”
After an evening of revelry, Hlar rows the Pathfinders out to the sandbar where she had originally picked them up. Sometime later, another commissioned ship travels by and offers you transport to Absalom.
There, you are able to present Stella Fane’s contract to an eager Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin. Valsin appears pleased that Fane’s agreed to aid the Society with passage through the blockade, and that the way to Vidrian is open. In gratitude for you service, Valsin presents you with an archaic wayfinder.
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The more Mafalda drinks, the quieter she becomes; by the end of the night she is silent as a tomb. A Lady must keep her dignity, even if she is utterly and completely sloshed, so she observes all versions of Serj passing out with stoicism. Seeing the other gnome and the goblin are likely to once again start singing, she considers ruffling through the inventor’s pockets to borrow his ear plugs, but the task is far too daunting.
She steadies herself on Swayaah’s shoulder and climbs inside Hlar’s boat with the beauteous smile of intoxication, whispering a drenched “you have my sincerest thanks, my good woman, now, please take us to our quarters, yes? I believe my migraine might be rearing its ugly head.”
The following day is difficult, but survival is assured in large part thanks to Beatriu’s head and foot massages.
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"Here you go, boss. Enjoy!" Swayaah's glad to get the mission over with. She heads below deck and falls asleep almost immediately.
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Mom's hut laid at the edge of town. A few villagers were fixing the windows, ignoring Swayaah and remaining focused on repairs. They weren't injured, at least- mom wasn't working them to death. But their unfocused gazes were always a sign of mom's mental controls.
"Hey Mom!" Swayaah walked in, dusted off a chair and plopped a bag onto the table. "You gotta eat. I brought some bread, cheese wheels... you're feeding the workers, right?"
The beast strode from the corner of the room, smiled, and sat on the chair. She took a moment to remember how to eat slowly and politely. "They're fine. Your assistant found some money I could pay them with."
Swayaah nodded slowly. "Okay, I just wanted to be sure. Sometimes you get carried away."
The bang of hammers served as their ambience as they quietly ate their food.
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Our shrewd hero wakes up suddenly on the sand bar.
"Huh wazzit" and coughing here "I mean, how did we get here again?" he takes a moment to gather the scene "Stranded here for Abadar knows how long!" he complains.
Later, he takes much of the credit for the contract "My associates here were very helpful indeed - especially Miss Delacerda" he turns to her now "If you'd ever consider a career in politics, I'll set you up with the right people" and handing her a thin metal card, continues to exaggerate his contribution to the mission.
"Back to Absalom with me - I'm working on something BIG - might take me in the order of 500 days to complete. Since none of you could possibly fathom replicating my research, I will indulge you with a general description. The reliability of the internal combustion is dampened substantially by it's inability to convert over all the chemical energy - indeed, a lot of power if lost through heat. So, I've been prototyping an which should serve to not only cool the chamber reaction by a few needed degrees, but also lower the amount of waste by systematizing a second cycle for the fuel system to achieve ideal ratios!" he looks around as if waiting for someone to respond with praise for his genius a fleeting moment - thinking to himself in it's absence that "They most likely lack the proper context of the fundamentals of auto-catalytics..."...
Either way, the rest of the trip home, the Professor's stomach seems to have acclimated somewhat - indeed he only "purges" times the entire trip back.
Reaching land, he shakes everyone's hand vigorously - as if to exaggerate his stature! - and says "I look forward to working with you all in the future. May your Ventures be Profitable!" this last phrase is Councilman Professor Serj Harlequinn's way of saying he will miss you...
Blast Off!