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Spending the entire voyage below deck ("You can't trust the sea - always slithering") becomes a pale gnome who prefers the darkness, and silence, and lack of duty, and, well, sitting alone with his thoughts.
When it comes times for the mission briefing, he lights an archaic swinging lantern and creeps up the stairs, and coming into the sun's rays for the first time, covers his face with his other hand, exclaiming nothing, but clearly in some sort of anguish, perhaps mental, psychosomatic, reluctantly coming to muster, and looking at all of you for the first time!
"I am the Antiquarian, branded with the surname Harlequinn, brandishing the birth name Swix, which is as I may be called" and despite the sunny gorgeous day, he looks around the party shining his own light in their faces (as if straining to see!) "Who among you is hiding their True Selves, eh!?" he cackles with self-entertainment "WHO!?"
Hundreds if not thousands of tiny bangles and trinkets sway in the cool wind of his personal effects, each individually numerous, perhaps meaningful, strange as the words that escape his mouth...
The Pathfinders have been traveling for days in Glorious Payoff with Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry for the mission in Port Peril. She invites them to meet her at the helm.
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A young brownish-grey goblin with unusually long arms and ears seems to stray into the area of the Helm. He is dressed in mismatched pieces of studded leather armor. He sports a heavily-pocketed leather vest, and a multi-pouched belt around his waist. Despite being well-groomed and clean, he has a crazed look on his face marked by a permanent smirk. His eyes are bigger than most of his kind, always darting in every direction.
He proffers a sharp-toothed impossibly-wide smile at anyone who looks at him.
"Heyo ebberyone! Mesa name es Mokka Knutt. Notsa mocha liken da chocolate gup. M-o-k-k-a. Mesa las name's notsa nut, or nutty. Its notsa notsa, nor nutty. Its k-n-u-t-t. Mesa may lookee un sound liken loconut ta youza... youza right!"
He suddenly plops on the ground cross-legged, and listens to the briefing. His eyes continue to dart everywhere. He tries to hide a chuckle.
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"A man of Pure Confidence! Ha!" Swix reacts to the Champion of Shelyn, shining his lantern light a little brighter in his face "One often finds that the One with Nothing to Hide can be the One whose True Self is Hidden from Oneself!"
He turns (his lantern) to the Goblin "I perceive in you a " and with an air of mystery, our antiquarian hero leaves the statement to stand for itself, infinitely ominous in it's obscure wisdom and foresight!
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A rotund man rolls forward in a mechanized contraption, having some resemblance to a wheelchair, with some steam pouring out of it, and several levers at his side. He's got a pale green tinge to his skin. "Hello there, name's Bob. Me mates call me Quarter Orc Bob on accounta me grandmother being an orc. Years ago, I was with the Society as a lock picker in the World Wound. Demon did something funky and now me legs don't work. S'allright, I used me brains and made this thing. She's got a few tricks t' her."
Quarter Orc Bob is an human inventor whose invention is his own armor.
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Swix sticks a finger in his ear "What is that horrible music!?" and spinning to face Shanti "You there! Conjure not those sounds into the world, for they screech and scratch, lest The Hammer of Misfortune fall upon you!" and having insulted the party medic, he keeps the grumpy introductions moving along, shining his light first upon Bismuth's sword "Too big" and then upon Bob's chair "Too complicated" and finally retreats to a place to sit down, resting his bones on the wooden planks of the relative ground.
The venture-captain blinks thrice, thinking if she had chosen the right Pathfinders for the mission. As chaotic as some of them may be, I think they will be doing good.
With her attention being taken from the chaotic conversation in front of her, the venture-captain's focus is taken back to them, finally. She sighs at what might happen to this semi-chaotic group while she steers her ship through a hidden channel, carefully navigating through the barely visible rock and coral that protrude slightly from the water’s surface. Behind the Payoff, a slightly smaller ship — the Sea Sparkle — follows, making every effort to follow Benarry’s course as closely as possible. Off the port hull, the deep green of the Garundi coast is illuminated by the late afternoon sun.
“See those gulls?” Benarry shouts over the flapping of the sails, “that’s the sandbar we’ll be dropping you off at. Barely sticks up over the waves, but the seabirds flock over it to feast on crab.”
“As I explained earlier, Vidrian — you might have known it as Sargava not that long ago — needs explorers to chart the trade routes to the south that they couldn’t use back when it was ruled by Cheliax. Simple enough bit of adventuring, but the new nation’s been having trouble with the Free Captains of late. Turns out when Vidrian broke free of Cheliax, the locals stopped paying the pirates protection money, and now they’re the number-one plunder target in the Shackles. What’s more, the pirates have set up a blockade preventing our ships from making it down to Vidrian to assist.”
“Thankfully, we’ve got someone on the inside. Stella Fane, a Free Captain with ties to the Firebrands and the Pirate Council, has been in contact with the Society. She and members of the Society’s leadership have put together a fairly clever plan to help the Society’s ships pass through the pirate blockades unharmed. The Wind and the Waves willing, the Payoff and the Sparkle can sail to Vidrian, no problem. While we’re doing that, I’ve arranged transport for you to Port Peril to meet with Fane and get her to sign this contract making the whole thing official—she may be a pirate, but she’s the kind that holds to her word. You’ll need to avoid drawing too much attention until after the deal is done. Once she’s signed the contract her friends in the Pirate Council will ratify it and there won’t be much the lesser captains can do. Be careful. Anyone looking to put a stop to this need only ensure that contract never gets signed.”
"Any questions before you jump overboard my ship and swim to that sandbar?" she quickly glances at the human inventor before she focuses on the goblin and the gnome.
Venture-Captain narrows her eyes to concentrate on the words of the goblins, trying hard to understand what does the goblin mean without letting him repeat the question. "She goes to where she pleases. There are some taverns you might want to check, or you can ask around first in the port when you get a chance and you might be fortunate enough that somebody has found her somewhere." she tries her best to answer that.
"All I can say, Port Peril is Port Peril. Expect all kinds of trouble you can find in a tavern, or in any place, actually. Fane might be a pirate but that does not mean every other pirate likes her. There might be some who would catch wind of our contract with her, and it will for sure imperil the upper hand we have here. This contract, once signed, will allow our ship to pass through the Shackles under her flag. So do your best for the mission."
"If you have no more questions, you can disembark my ship already and swim to the sandbar." she tells them. "And don't worry, the water is shallow and calm, you'll have no trouble swimming to the shore." she assures Quarter-Orc Bob.
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Mokka walks over to Venture-Captain Calisro Benarry and says "Cap'n pleeese gimme da contract per Cap'n Fane ta sign. Mesa will keep it safe." He shows her a long dry bottle where he'll store the contract, and cork with which to waterproof the paper.
"Okiday. Tanks per youza time Cap'n Blinksalot. Wesa'll goen un find Cap'n Fane un give shesa youza regards.
Mokka goes off to the side of the ship and walks off a gang plank pretending as if he's a prisoner being guided off to die. He winks at everyone, then dives into the water feet first... much to the delight of the now very relieved crew.
He makes sure to swim quickly to the sand bar. He looks back excitedly and says "Mesa wanten ta see how Bob gets offa da bongo in dat ecouch-eee."
Captain, please give me the contract for Captain Fane to sign. I will keep it safe.
Okay, thanks for your time Captain Blinks-a-lot. We'll be going to find Captain Fane and give her your regards.
I want to see how Bob gets off the boat in that chair.
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To Benarry "Oh - we will FIND this Stella Fane! - indeed - Or is it?..." again with feigned mystique, our pale gnome hero waxes ominous and with that, he topples himself over the side of the railing, and falling through midair, rotates unexpectedly, landing flat on his back when making contact with the water, and extinguishing his lantern...
...emerging salty and with the wince of a stinging sensation causing a persistent nag against his attention, Swix drips soggy as he steps onto the sand bar "♪♪ Bar of Sand, Sand of Bar. Barring Sand, and Sanding Bar. ♪♪ Which one tells us Where We Are!? ♪♪" he sings to himself, cackling with acute madness, and starting into each miniscule grain as if it holds some secret, unknown, lost, unaccounted for...
...then grabs a handful of sand and stows it among his esoterica...
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Bob pulls a few levers, straps himself in, and goes over backwards off the boat. The chair hits the bottom of the water, and he pulls another lever. A massive spring deploys from the bottom of the chair and he bounces forward through the water and onto the beach.
"Now give me a moment to reset my chair."
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"Wowza! Mesa now name youza 'Bombad Bob'!" Mokka exclaims after he sees the human inventor burst out of the water on his amazing contraption. He claps his hands with extreme enthusiasm, and bounces up and down with glee.
Then rather suddenly, his mood changes and says "Whatta do wesa do now?" He looks at the group looking helpless and clueless.
What do we do now?
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"Wowza! Lookee theesa strange critures onda sand bar. Mesa wonder iffen its edible?" He tries to grab a crab, but instead picks up a large conch. He starts talking to it.
"Ex-squeeze mesa. Anybody in dare? Do youza know where mesa can find Cap'n Fane?"
Mokka tries desperately to clam in another chuckle. He then faces Bismuth and says "Youza muy cutie! Mesa liken youza!"
He walks around the sand bar, and tries to see if there's anyone out there (in the water).
Wow! Look at these strange creatures on the sand bar! I wonder if its edible?
Excuse me. Anybody in there? Do you know where I can find Captain Fane?
You're very cute. I like you!
Everyone is not having problem swimming into the sandbar. As the other look around, Bob and Bismuth notice a wooden crate barely protruding from the sandbar.
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Mokka sizes up the box, studies how it's made. He looks for a way to apply strength to the box and destroy it, without damaging the contents .
He stands on the crate, and whispers at Bismuth's ears. "Mesa liken youza remimber? Mesa'll hep youza take revenge onda meanie box. Kick it hair!". He points at a spot, then hops off the box.
Unfortunately for the group, Studley's attempt seems to crack something that is inside the crate, the contents seeping out of the crate. Studley and Mokka works to open it and it reveals that the bottles inside are indeed got broken.
Anyway, the tide comes in as they wait on the sandbar, eventually leaving them standing in a few inches of water in the middle of the ocean. About an hour later, a small boat appears, sailed by an elderly diver. "Ey! Pathfinders? Call me Hlar. Hop aboard and I will bring you to Port Peril." The woman beckons them aboard, shifting around sacks of shellfish and crab traps to make room in the cramped vessel. Over the next few hours, Hlar sails her boat in a meandering path to shore along the submerged rock formations, every now and then jumping overboard and freediving for several minutes before reemerging with an oyster, sea urchin, or squid.
When the wind dies down along the way, she rows the boat instead, "Do you mind helping me?" passing a spare oar to Shanti. "Since Benarry made me come out of her way to get you, the least you can do is help get everyone to shore. Not complaining, but sound like it, aren't I? Exercise those arms. If you don't want, pass that to others that might help."
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At the sight of the broken alchemical treasure and wasted bottle of seemingly expensive rum, Mokka starts bawling accompanied by the largest crocodile tears anyone has every seen.
"Herro Hlar. Do notsa mind mesa. Mesa bwoken-harted. Mesa so frownen mesa aim might'n get so bad."
A few hours later, Mokka is at the back of the boat still sobbing. He's holding the stamp of the stylized dragon turtle on one hand, and a very soaked handkerchief dripping with tears and snot on the other. His eyes are comically swollen.
"Bwoken. Tis bwoken." he mutters to himself repeatedly.
Broken. Is it broken.
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”To Where shall we Row through the Mists of Intangibility!?”
As if speaking to himself - let alone about non-existent “mists” on this fine, high visibility day! - our cryptic hero shines his lantern forth from the front of Hlar’s boat, rowed along by Shanti and any others, fixating his gaze as if to pierce some unknown veil...
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Bismuth steps into the gnome’s rhetorical trap - he strikes like a troll levying a bridge toll ”Fool!” snapping shut like a dog locking it’s jaw ”What you cannot See cannot Harm you, surely?“ his tone deceptively suggestive ”It would follow that the Less you can See the Less Harm that will come to you, surely?” he turns the logic on it’s head with an increasingly sarcastic tone, which finds it’s zenith here ”Thus concluding that is is Never a good idea to Bother to Look, surely?”
And with that, he continues to face forward, letting the others doing the rowing work, while continuing to peer forward through his imagined mists...
"Is he okay?" Hlar asks when she has the opportunity to check out the bawling goblin at the corner.
As they row, Hlar’s boat arrives in Port Peril around sunset. As they drift into Crescent Harbor, sailors disembarking for shore leave remain clearly visible, singing rowdily as they work. Hlar soon lands at a smaller dock to unload her catch. She then gestures at a ship in one of the docks, "That's Fane's ship, the Risen Albatross. I will remind you that Stella Fane’s penchant for riotous nights on the town once she’s returned to port are well known, but I don't know where the kids go these days."
She then looks around and points at a certain dwarf. "There, you can ask that harbormaster, name's Tsojmin. He would probably have a better idea of where he saw Fane head after her ship docked and unloaded."
She then motions them to leave her boat. "You, maybe you can stop crying already about the things you don't have control over. She isn't going back with you." Hlar misunderstands the goblin's feelings when she gets to him.
Thankfully, the bald bureaucrat is close by, checking off tasks written in a ledger.
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Mokka looks at Hlar and says quite dramatically 'Buta shesa spaked shesa luvs mesa". He winks at Hlar, then quite abruptly stands up and bounds off the little boat onto the docks.
"Tanks for da ride Hlar! Best of luck wit youza catchin."
He walks around full of energy, and walks with a slight strut behind Studley. He peers through the side of his giant legs and sizes up Tsojmin. He offers him a wide sharp-toothed smile with very puffy eyes, but doesn't say a word.
But she said she loves me.
Thanks for the ride! Best of luck with your catch.
Hlar blows raspberries when the goblin responds to her. "Nonsense." dismissing him. She then waves them goodbye with an awkward expression.
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The bald bureaucrat dwarf, checking off tasks written in a ledger, stops doing so and looks up at Studley from head to toe. He rolls his eyes before speaking, "You have my attention. Do I know you? What do you need?" he says with annoyance.