|
DAY 1: ABOARD THE KAAVA CUTTER
The deck of the Kaava Cutter is bustling with sailors working the rigging, mopping the deck, and generally keeping the ship moving in the direction of Pridon's Hearth. The sun's morning rays cast shadows, and a brisk wind helps propel the ship forward and keep the temperature to a tolerable level.
Not everyone is a sailor on this ship. Indeed, the Kaava Cutter seems to be transporting people to the new colony. A few notable figures dot the main deck. A striking half-elf in a radiant red dress, her arms folded in a morning prayer. A sharply dressed man with a broad-brimmed black hat, deep in conversation with the captain. A Zenj woman in worn leathers, standing on the forecastle and staring out to the horizon. And a rotund man in impractical noble's attire, frequently mopping his brow. It's him that approaches Kord.
"Greetings! I'm Gallio Menius, recently of Eleder," he introduces himself in a booming voice. "Well, I suppose to do plan to return, so you could say I'm still from there. But not before I make a proper papaya farm out of my new parcel of land! Ha ha! And who might you be?"
Gallio reaches out to shake Kord's hand.
|
Kord shakes his hand back. He holds it while replying "Sounds like a Taldan name, where were you from before that?" If he says Cheliax or Taldor, Kord will squeeze 1.5 schoches too hard.
"Regardless, it's about new beginnings right? Pleasure to meet you. M'name's Kord. Kord Emperado."
Does the striking half-elf lady have a holy symbol on? Kord doesn't have much of a heart for religion, but he DOES have one for striking half-elves.
|
|
"Oh no, it's a Chelish-" he grimaces as Kord squeezes harder, "-name. Born and raised in Eledar, but yes, you are right! A new beginning, and an auspicious one too I think. Why, I even hand picked some of the best papaya farmers the city had to offer for this trip. And it's a fascinating fruit, the papaya! They have three genders, did you know that? I, of course, will be planting only hermaphrodites. Those are the ones you eat in most cases. Large and succulent. I tell you, it has the potential of being the new staple fruit for Sargava!"
When Kord's eye drifts to the half-elf, she finishes her prayer and stands up. A holy symbol to Shelyn dangles from a chain around her neck. She stretches, then reaches into a bag at her feet and pulls out a couple paintbrushes.
"So you like hermaphrodites, eh? Sounds like I'm just your type."
Hazel grins, her teeth fighting to escape her mouth from every direction.
"Just kidding. Or am I? Guess you'll have to find out."
She lifts her ragged, dirty skirts dangerously high, then drops them, cackling.
"Ah-ah-ah! Won't be that easy. But it will be easy."
She elbows Kord.
"What about you--ohhhh muscles! Let me know if you need some exercise, handsome."
Hazel's eyes narrow.
She climbs Kord, her mouth nearly touching his ear.
"I curse you."
She drops back down and cackles.
"MMM. Hate to see him go, but love to watch him walk away."
She looks back at Gallio. "What about you? Want to get a taste of these papayas?" she points to the area around her belly button and does a little shake.
Standing at the rail overlooking the land in the distance, as he has been pretty much since boarding the ship, is a green-skinned humanoid with chiseled features. This is more literal than many such people, as the man is an oread, so in fact those features actually appear chiseled. With him as always, normally crouched on his backpack but sometimes asleep beside him, is a miniature bear-like creature. Its claws and teeth are always in evidence, even when it snores.
He has introduced himself as Dwynnweer, and the small bear as Shwyurr. the oread is unfailingly polite, though it is clear that the act of speaking to others is done with some effort on his part; he seems to prefer the unspoken link he shares with his pet.
|
|
"What? Oh, uh, no thank you," Gallio says, clearly uncomfortable. "Oh, here that? I'm sorry, one of my men needs me. Probably yet another discrepancy with the manifest. Excuse me." The noble quickly shuffles away.
Meanwhile, a woman's voice from the right of Dwynnweer says, "Do you yearn for the land, Oread?" He sees the Zenj woman Uzuma, who he met when he first introduced himself, approach. Her leathers creak as she leans against the rail. "I may not be a seafarer like the Bonuwat, but I enjoy the cadence. The sway of the ship is soothing. And at least it is not raining."
Meanwhile, a woman's voice from the right of Dwynnweer says, "Do you yearn for the land, Oread?" He sees the Zenj woman Uzuma, who he met when he first introduced himself, approach. Her leathers creak as she leans against the rail. "I may not be a seafarer like the Bonuwat, but I enjoy the cadence. The sway of the ship is soothing. And at least it is not raining."
Dwynnweer starts as Uzuma's words snap him from his reverie, and he gives an awkward smile. Forgiveness, Lady Uzuma, I did not hear you approach, he says as he bows, the gesture as awkward as the smile. I know not if "yearn" is the right word, but I miss the land when I do not rest on its constancy. It is a part of me. Shwyurr lifts her head from the deck and looks at the oread and the Zenj, then lays back down, closing its eyes again.
|
|
"Lady?" Uzuma smirks, then gestures at herself. Her attire, posture, and demeanor imply that she's more at home with a forest canopy overhead than any arched cathedral ceiling. "Three more days, the captain said, as long as the winds prevail. Which they should, I think. Soon, you will be 'with yourself' again. What do you plan to do when you get to Pridon's Hearth?"
Meanwhile, the sharply dressed man nods and walks away from the captain. His feet take him to a small retinue that came aboard with him, and he engages in a hushed conversation with them.
The Shelynite rolls out a piece of canvas and begins looking around. She seems unable to find whatever it is she seeks.
|
|
She glances at Kord, then at a pile of crates on the main deck. "Oh, hi. What I'm looking for actually is space. I'm feeling inspired at the moment, but what I'm missing is a surface that I can stretch this canvas over. Maybe if... Can you help me move this crate over to that one? I might have enough of a flat surface then."
Hazel sits down and begins to "perform a Harrowing"* on the deck.
*Playing solitaire. You probably thought it meant pooping. You might still be right.
You are a lady to me, Lady Uzuma, the oread says simply, though with conviction.
He waits a moment longer before addressing her question. I cannot say for certain what I will do, but I am hopeful. My previous residence was razed to build a bypass — we were told "you have to build bypasses". The recompense offered was just enough for passage on the Kaava Cutter. And here I am.
Hazel was promised an unending supply of undersexed lumberjacks.
Hazel was promised an unending supply of undersexed lumberjacks.
|
|
"Annabella Tullia," she replies, laying out her canvas atop the crates Kord moved. Up close he can see the half-elf's scowl, and suspects that this is her default expression. She looks at the muscular man with indifference, then the faintest crack of a smile appears. "Well, when Shelyn inspires you..." she trails off, raising a paintbrush as a way to excuse herself.
|
|
"Tulia? I knew of a dwarf with a bird by that name once... Pretty name." While not a dullard by any stretch, the big man isn't much for conversation. "Shelyn. I'm not up on the ways of the gods much, but you seem wise and happy. Tell me of her while you paint if you will. I also know enough that the faithful can be powerful, what is it about a hot and foetid jungle that draws you?"
|
|
"A bird, you say? Shelyn does love songbirds," Annabella says, dipping her paintbrush into a small pot with blue paint. "Well, you should know that today is the Crystalhue, a holy day wherever Shelyn is revered. As for why the jungle, I'm Sargavan. We're used to the heat," she smirks. "But really, it's because of the people. Have you not noticed how little faith there for in Shelyn in Eleder or Port Freedom? Nobody seems to care that creating art enriches our lives! It's frustrating to watch. And so, here I go to a new colony, leaving my friends behind, so that I can finally, finally use my art to good effect!"
She pauses to take a deep breath and calm herself. "My hope is that my skills as an artist and sculptor will allow me contribute to some of the public spaces. If even the most subtle flourishes can get people to see and respect what Shelyn brings... I'll be happy."
Jareth feels a moist burst of ear in his ear, along with the smell of a swamp sharting.
"Don't worry, Jareth Duodenum, I dig your creep-o vibe."
"No, I never forget a codpiece." She looks at Annabella. "Hey stringbean, you gonna ride this pony? S*$~ or get off the pot! AHAHAHAHAHAHA"
"Don't worry. You can still have my sloppy seconds. But they will be sloppy." Hazel winks.
|
|
Kord begins a raucous song to turn his mind away from the entirely unappetizing mental images being bandied about.
|
|
The remainder of the trip on the Kaava Cutter is quick and uneventful. That is, if you consider Hazel's constant flirtation with the men on board uneventful. Believe it or not, most of the sailors aboard the ship find the lewd comments endearing, with a few of them calling the old woman "Maw-Maw".
On the fourth day at sea the silhouette of Pridon's Hearth appears on the shoreline. Annabella Tullia presents Kord with a rolled up piece of canvas. He opens it to see a painted likeness of himself. "It's not my best work," the priestess of Shelyn apologizes. "But have it as a 'thank you' for helping me have a bit of space to let my artwork flow."
When the ship gets to land it becomes apparent that this small town is in the early stages of development. Lacking a proper dock to accept large ships, the captain organizes rotating longboats to get people ashore. It doesn't take long for the very chatty Gallio Menius to declare, "First!"
When you finally step onto the dock the Sargavan noble's laborers are busy organizing their belongings and farming supplies. After a moment gathering your own meager belongings you hear the sounds of an argument. "I say! Those are mine! They are key to the proper growth of papayas!" the booming voice of the noble can be heard. The crowd parts, giving you a view of grizzled looking man beside him. The angry man beside Menius seems to sway a bit at the edge of the dock.
"You should be getting out of this land, ya filthy leech!" The drunk swings with a right hook and knocks Gallio to the deck planks, looking more shocked than injured. The swaying man ends his tirade by smashing the bottle he holds against a sturdy dock pylon. The bottle shatters, leaving him holding a vicious spike of serrated glass. "And if yer not gonna leave... then I guess it’s up to me to make ya!"
|
|
Though drunk, the man does note the film of grease appearing on the broken bottle, he shakes it off before the magic can complete its job. Bloodshot eyes swivel toward Jareth. "Filthy magic! You're not welcome here either, mudslinger!"
He turns his attention from Gallio Menius, and moves menacingly towards Jareth...
|
|
Initiative:
The man sees Kord flexing, clearly ready for a fight. He also is, more importantly, between him and Jareth. The drunk steps up and stabs at the brawler is his broken bottle.
The swing from the man is wild and slow. Kord easily blocks it with a forearm and launches a quick uppercut into the man's jaw, teeth clacking as he's rocked by the punch. A tense moment falls over the crowd. The drunk shakes his head, squares his shoulders, and says, "Yer gonna pay for that."
Round 1:
Enemy: Miss
Hazel: Go
Dwynnweer: Go
Kord: Uppercut! (nonlethal)
Jareth: Go
The oread moves swiftly toward the impromptu melee. I see no reason for violence here, nodding to Kord and the restraint he showed using nonlethal damage. Let us make the most of this situation that the gods have given us here in Pridon's Hearth.
"Boys, boys, there's no need to fight. Plenty of Hazel to go around! AHAHAHAHAHA. <cough> <cough> <spit> <fart>"
Hazel readies an Evil Eye against the first person to attempt to do lethal damage (-2 Attack, DC 14, 7 rounds if save fails, 1 if made).
|
|
Dwynnweer asks for calm, but the drunk scoffs. "Outlanders have ruined thish... this place! So sod off, rock boy!" If it were possible to make the man angrier, he would be.
Hazel is ready to make the fight more difficult in her own special way.
Round 1:
Enemy: Miss
Hazel: Ready
Dwynnweer: Diplomacy
Kord: Uppercut! (nonlethal)
Jareth: Go
|
|
Something about Jareth's words causes the drunk to pause. He looks down at his feet and, seeming to speak to himself, says, "She never liked my drinking. And now it's all I can do." A single tear rolls leaks from his right eye. He looks up again. "No, I will not drink with you lot." His words sound angry, but his body language is clearly one of defeat. He lets go of the broken bottle, and it's shattering seems to trigger the next voice.
"What's the meaning of all this?" a woman asks, pushing through the crowd. Her serious demeanor and the two armed militiamen with her make it obvious she has authority.
Gallio Menius is quick to come to your defense. "That man assaulted me! And these fine heroes of the day upheld a noble's honor. I personally attest to their character, and will happily cover any damages."
The woman looks over the prone noble, then extends a hand to help him up. "I don't think that'll be necessary. Good thing." She gestures to the two militiamen, then to the drunk, and adds, "Bake him away, toys."
With the drunk being escorted away, and the noble assuaged, the stern woman turns to you all. "I'm Sheriff Adaela Praet, here on behalf of Count Narsus. Sorry I couldn't be here earlier to prevent Theos' little outburst. He's not been the same since his wife and son passed, and I just don't have enough men to deal with him all the time."
She sizes you all up, taking particular note of Kord's muscles, Dwynnweer's stony nature, Jareth's otherworldly glow, and Hazel's pervy-ness. "I'm willing to bet that you lot need a place to stay. There's a few local homes that take in lodgers, but I figure you're best served at the Stone Hall. Cross the wood bridge to the right," she says, gesturing. "Hang a left at the first intersection, and you should find it on the corner of the next intersection after that. It's one of the few stone buildings, so you can't miss it. Now, if you'll excuse me..." the sheriff trails off in a way that implies both 'have a good day' and 'I'll be seeing you soon, I bet'.