The Journey...

'Hmm...always work for mercenaries in these parts. Explorers wanting to go on an adventure in the deep jungle and the like. When you get into Bloodcove go to the Free Trade Square, you can find most anything there.' The captain leans forward, placing his hands onto the edge of the table. 'As for dangers, well, your best bet is to get out of the city soon as possible. Thieves and bankers as far as the eye can see. The jungle's not much safer, mind, but at least you know all they want to do is eat you. You'll find spiders the size of horses, tree cats that'll drop on your shoulders and have your head off before you can scream, and that's not even mentioning the tribes. Some of 'em are friendly enough, a bit backwards of course, but good, solid folk. Some of them though, cannibals, demon worshiping, and worse things. You folks stick together, make sure you get a good, dependable guide, and you should be fine. But mind your purses in Bloodcove and don't pay in advance for any service you can't walk away with. Ya hear me?'

Aartam takes in the captain's words with an understanding nod. In his deep and resounding voice (fitting his body), the Half-Orc grunts an affirmative. "Bankers are a foul lot. I'll take the dangers and blessings of the Jungle any day."

Leaning back in his chair to see out the window to land, he then asks, "How far to shore? My legs yearn for a solid and unshifting ground."

'Not long now, I'll leave you be so you can gather your things' He turns to leave, standing in the doorway with one meaty hand braced on the door frame. 'As I said, we'll be in port two days so if you need anything come see me' He smiles broadly, waiting another moment to see if anyone else has questions.

Ori nods thoughtfully after the Seafarer has departed. "I think our priorities are to price any last minute supplies we will need to last us to first harvest, Find an appropriate Guide Prefferably of the Corvid Consortium or at least part of a recognized organization such as the Pathfinders, and then simply set forth, I remember when I first got to the Capitol from Lantern, a big city to someone fresh from Lantern.... We do not want to give our populace long to get into trouble, even were it a more respectable place." He hesitates, then adds "After supplies, if there are funds left, I would request some be spent on scroll materials, I brought some with me, but with more and some collaboration we can each be better prepared for the journey to come..." He says

"All of that said, it would not hurt to look at this free trade square, but we want nothing that would cause us to tarry in town." he aknowledges glancing toward the window with more apprehension than eagerness.

The next hour or so is a bustle of packing and last minute departure preparations. The port city of Bloodcove is supposedly named for the blood-red waters, fed by the iron rich clay of the Vanji River. Anyone with a bit of knowledge of the place knows the truth, Bloodcove is a den of organized crime and slave traffic, a vile place for vile people. The first view of the city off the port side of the ship shows a massive mangrove forest, interlaced by wooden platforms just above the fetid swampy water of the Vanji delta and small buildings clinging to the trees like brown fungus. On the south side of the river a ramshackle collection of cheap wooden huts and long halls standing on five foot polls stretch off into the misty, early morning distance. That's their destination, Warehouse Row, the dockside and cargo center of the city. The ship's hull bumps gently against the dock, the captain's crew certainly know their business, and the noise and smells of the busy port assail the council and the assembled settlers on the deck. The second ship drifts to a halt and is tied off on the opposite side of the dock, a brief cheer and a real sense of hope spreads through the group despite the seedy appearance of the city. Their first leg of the journey is over, this is their new homeland even if their home is still hundreds of miles away.

Grunyar looks to the rest of the council and lays out his plan:

Alright, first thing we gotta do is make sure we got enough food to last us until we can make our own, or can otherwise trade for it. Next thing we gotta do it get ourselves some wagons so that the elderly, the infirm and very young will be able to keep up with the goup.

Finally, if at all possible it might be prudent to find a guide. We know next to nothing about this region and having someone who does would be an incredible boon. I know the captain told us not to trust anyone from Bloodcove, but that only means we have to be careful; I'm not about to lead our people into an unknown jungle filled with unknown dangers and unknown natives without some guidance."

Grunyar turned to Aartam with a somewhat apologetic look, Not that you're powers won't be of immeasurable help, but you are as much a stranger to this land as the rest of us.

Aartam nods. "Your words show Wisdom, Grunyar. My abilities are a supplement, but there is no substitute for experience in this land. Hopefully, my abilities will help determine if any guide is leading us astray." The half-orc rubbed his palm along his neck in anxiety as they approached. He never particularly cared for the city, with its judgmental people. Nature cared little what your skin looked like. It treated all the same. Not so the city. "Perhaps we can be quick."

Of course, since his honor was assaulted, he had to punch Grunyar in the face.

The crew lowers a long plank onto the dockside and begin taking down crates and bags, creating orderly piles with quick efficiency. A dwarf is standing at the foot of the gangplank, holding a clipboard with a thick stack of parchment and a holder for a large black inkwell containing a long red and green quill. He watches the boxes being unloaded, while scribbling on his parchment. He's dressed unlike any dwarf they've ever seen. Wearing thick soled sandals of green-dyed leather laced up to his knees, a pair of khaki short pants ending just below the knees, and a loose silk vest painted dark blue and purple. His head is shaved to a fine black fuzz and instead of the usual Dwarven beard he has a long braided goatee, hanging to the middle of his stomach and a curling mustache wider than his face.

When Grunyar saw the dwarf he walked to him and began to speak with him in the overly formal style of speech he was used to speaking in his homeland,"Hail friend, my name is Grunyar Trunder. It does my heart good to know that even this far from the Five Kings Mountains there are dwarves making their way through the world. If I may have a moment of you're time I would like to ask where we might purchase wagons and perhaps also a guide through the jungles?"

As Grunyar talks to the dwarf he notes his unusual dress and beard, however Grunyar accepts their unusual style as a likely necessity in the incredible heat and humidity of the jungle.

Aartam lets Grunyar dot he talking, unwilling to put himself directly in center stage. His time to shine would be the wilderness, not this place.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2015, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Myth-Weavers Status