Sareneth 21, Moonday
Relief washed through me upon seeing Sandara’s status update, hardly receding before the creaking door heralded an exhausted necromancer bracing himself against the door frame. The dimming light filled the crags in his face with shadows, and the white in his blonde hair stood out.
“She’s awake but distressed.” He told us with a sigh, “someone needs to verify that the right soul came when called, and explain the situation to her if so.”
I squeezed past him without waiting for permission from my superiors, careful not to knock the teetering man over. The next room, seemingly too large for the building, was brightly lit, tidy, and lined with shelves upon shelves of colorfully bound books. In the center of the room, a marble slab contained various surgical and arcane tools as well as the weary subject of Jerry’s procedure.
Sandara was pale and limp, her head lolling towards the door as I entered, her hair gathered above her head to make room. Thick white bandages concealed her midriff, where Scourge’s ax had bitten deeply into her side, but there were few visible signs of her injury. She groaned with relief upon seeing my face, letting her head fall a fraction of an inch back to the stone. Her strength, effectively a zero between exhaustion and strength damage, meant that she lacked the strength to lift even her own body.
“Mriss.” She slurred, “wha sappen?”
Autopilot, I need a minute. Can you explain what the hell happened here?
“You’re safe,” I started, thinking it best to start with reassurance, “Scourge killed you, almost certainly by accident. It was a singularly inept murder if that was his intent. He apparently had an impressive enough line of credit to pay for your resurrection if a specialist could be found, so I found one.”
“Why?” She asked, forcing the single word into its proper shape with uncooperative lips.
“You still owe me for those bracers.” I informed her with a light tone and a reassuring smile, "I believe you promised me two thousand and I haven’t seen a single copper.”
Wait what? Shit. She does, doesn’t she? I forgot about that in all the confusion, but seriously, that’s the first thing you say?
Perhaps she was simply punchy, but she began to giggle. It was quiet and frequently supplemented with coughing, but she found my statement quite funny for whatever reason. I didn’t know why; she was pleasant enough company but I hardly knew her. The gold was the only justifiable reason I had to waste most of a day on hunting for a dream. (Diplomacy 19+4=23 success! Sandara’s disposition has improved towards you. She is now Helpful)
Right. I forgot you were kind of a dick. She seems to like it, though. I’ll keep it in mind.
“Jerry, the guy we got to put you together, wanted someone to confirm that you’re you.” I explained. “You knew my name at a glance, so I’m going to take that as a yes. I’ll ask if you’re safe to move, okay?”
“Grog?” She croaked hopefully. “Hurts.”
“You are in no state to drink anything but water.” I told her severely, doing my best to be firm. “We are getting you somewhere to rest and you won’t be drinking anything with much kick until you can pour it for yourself.”
She pouted, but managed a huff that was just theatrical enough to convince me she’d be fine. We towed her back to the ship on a floating platform conjured by Peppery Longfarthing, who I noticed was wearing a very familiar set of blue and silver bracers.
Yep. Sandara definitely owes me two thousand.
Once we reached the Wormwood Owlbear clambered onto the deck, cradling her in one massive but gentle arm. We were about to carry her down to the hold when a better alternative presented itself.
“She can sleep in my room.” Caulky offered. “I’ve got an actual bed, and a door that I can latch. It’ll be a little cramped, but I don’t think she could manage a hammock in this state.”
Caulky’s room was small, but quite nice. She had a wall decorated with a few daggers and pistols, a large trunk with a sturdy lock, and a narrow bed with a thin mattress and linen sheets.
I bet the real officers have nicer, but come to think of it Caulky might be relatively rich. She’s been on the crew for years and I don’t get the impression she has a ton of expenses. I might be able to use that, actually.
We tucked Sandara into the narrow cot and brought her some water; she didn’t drink much, instead passing out from her exhaustion once she was both safe and comfortable.
Syl looked her over, muttering about her condition as she did. Sandara was in fairly good shape, considering what had happened, and Syl began whipping up a improvised alchemical paste from spices, water, and ship biscuit that would help restore her strength more quickly. She woke Sandara up briefly to spoonfeed her the elixir, made with one of her talents specifically to heal ability damage.
Sandara has healed 4 strength damage
Sandara grimaced at the taste, but then successfully laid back down unaided. A glance at her character sheet placed her effective strength at 1. She was strong enough to theoretically stand unaided, but weak enough to stagger under the weight of her own clothes. She needed rest.
“Owlbear, I feel like someone should stay with Sandara.” I said, “I think you could scare off most people who might wake her up. Could you look after her? While you’re at it, make sure she doesn’t pocket anything. Is there anything I can get for you in town? My treat.”
He nodded solemnly. “Chalk and slate. Since you’re asking.”
“You got it, bud.” I assured him. “If I can find it, I’ll pick it up.”
Assuming it’s not expensive. How much are chalkboards?
One gold piece, the chalk might be a few extra coppers. Assuming an active and well stocked market. (Appraise 14+2=16)
Yeah I can manage that.
I gave Sandara’s forearm a quick pat and withdrew to the deck with Rosie, Caulky, and Syl. It was late afternoon, but we still had the evening to do with as we pleased.
After we let everyone know Sandara is ok, anyway.
“Alright guys.” I began, “looks like we managed it. We need to let Conchobar, Cog, and the team looking for Darla know. Otherwise they’ll stay worried all night, maybe even make some deals. After that, we still have the rest of the night. So who’s doing what?”
“I’ll tell Conchobar.” Syl offered, "I need a drink anyway.”
“The Taphouse is probably the best place for me to go too.” Rosie said, "Hopefully someone there knows where Tilly’s team got to.”
“Yeah.” Caulky agreed, “I’ll go with you, Tilly is cool.”
“I guess I’ll tell Cog.” I decided. “I mean, we know exactly where he was headed.”
“Eager to head to the brothel, eh?” Syl teased, “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Maybe.” I answered with a roll of my eyes, “I really am just looking for Cog, but I have some things I want to look into afterwards.”
“Be careful.” She warned, “stay near the docks if you’re alone. The goblins seem to be keeping the peace there.”
••••••••••
The House of Amber Silk wasn’t hard to find. It was the only whorehouse near the docks, and probably the nicest building. A fenced semicircle of polished stone served as a patio, guarded by a pair of hulking green-scaled figures at the gate. Just behind the bruisers, three beautiful women in black and yellow dresses smiled and waved enticingly to any male passerby. One had green skin that pegged her as an orc, one looked human until I noticed her slightly pointed ears, and I assumed the last was a drow based on her dark grey skin until I looked away from her rack long enough to see the horns on her head.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/house-of-amber-95661040
“Excuse me.” I called the orc girl. “I’m looking for a friend who said he was coming here.”
“Oh?” She said as she smiled at me, revealing pronounced fangs, “what’s his name? For that matter, what's your name, handsome?” I need to know what name to tell him, so he can decide if he wants us to confirm that he’s here. (Sense motive 14+1=15 success)
“Emrys M’Dair, and I’m looking for Crimson Cogward.” I told her. “If he’s busy, let him know we found the guy we are looking for. If he’s very busy, let him know I’m very curious about what his plan was here and so is the rest of the team.”
“Well if he’s here I’ll be sure he gets the message.” She smiled coyly. “Any chance you’re feeling lonely? I’m sure we could find you some company if you’d like to wait for an answer.”
I considered her offer more than you might think. She was gorgeous, of course, but I didn’t think she’d be in my price range so I tried to avoid thinking of her in particular. Basic marketing technique: put the really pricey goods out front to entice people into the shop. Instead I asked myself the far more pragmatic question.
How much are the perks from Layer of a Thousand Women worth to me, and is it beneath my dignity to pay for sex if the sex isn’t the point? If I want to get my body count up to 20, let alone 50 or higher, I need to bang a lot of people. A lot. I only slept with like 8 people in the last four years. Maybe seven, I was really drunk that night and I don’t know if anything actually happened. Anyway, that’s only up to three perks for my actual wild college years. It’s not like I wouldn’t have liked more, but sleeping with tons of girls is a lot of work and can get really scummy really fast.
I decided today was a no go. I had more pressing matters than getting my rocks off or acquiring magic powers that would assist me in the same. Well, not exactly pressing, but I needed to do some market research if I was going to break into a new industry.
“I’ll have to pass today,” I answered with a smile. “I’ll remember you if I ever find myself in Goatshead with a heavier purse, though.”
“Looking forward to it, handsome.” She smiled and turned away, duty complete.
••••••••••
Making knowledge checks is kinda like googling something. Basic research, potentially unreliable, but generally a good start. For example: why the fuck did Cog go to that brothel of all places?
Based on the dress of the women, black and yellow, they are probably affiliated with Callistria, the goddess of vengeance and lust. Callistrian temples are sometimes also spies and information brokers. (Knowledge: Religion 14+2=16)
Huh. Ok then. Excellent example. If that’s true, then I now know something useful. I’m still not sure what Cog’s plan was, or how he was planning on paying, but I have confirmation that he was plausibly taking this seriously. In contrast, when I asked about the price of ships, I got very little useful information.
So what do you do when a quick google search fails you? You dig deeper, preferably by asking someone who knows more, and even better if it’s someone you already know.
••••••••••
I stepped out into the street, took a breath, and let autopilot do some research. If it could find Jerry, surely it could find some ships for sale. I started by looking around the docks for a trustworthy source of information. Failing that, I found that my former guide Rowe was at the docks. She was sitting on the edge of a roof, looking at the ships in the harbor. (Diplomacy 8+4=12; basic information)
“Excuse me, Rowe?” I callled up to the the small woman, “may I speak with you?”
“Oh. Charcoal Longshanks. Did you want to give me money?” She called down from her perch, “if so, yes. Happy to talk any time.”
I pulled a copper piece out of my pouch and held it up for her to see. She yawned and looked back at the ships. With a sigh I took out a silver piece. She scratched at a cheek for a few moments before shrugging and holding out a palm. Mage hand deposited my payment into her hand and we could continue our chat.
“I was hoping to ask someone about the prices of ships here.” I explained, “I doubt I can afford one right now, but I want to someday.”
“Oh? You have your own ship someday?” Rowe asked, “Me too. Very expensive though. What ship you want, I can tell you how much. That enough? Broker doesn’t like being bothered by not customers.”
“Honestly yeah, that sounds great.” I replied, turning to look at the harbor. “Let’s establish a baseline. The Wormwood; what would that ship cost?”
“Pretty standard warship. Good for chasing, bad for cargo.” She mused. “At least 20,000 gold. Probably more, though. Old ship, but it looks well cared for. Captain probably likes it, so it goes for more than normal, not less. Also probably has an engine. No point having a fast ship in Shackles without one.”
“News to me.” I admitted, “What kind of engine do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Something to make it go faster. Or someone, I guess.” She elaborated, “Usually magic. Mast that makes the wind blow, or skeletons that can row all the time.”
“So how much would an engine cost?” I asked, “it sounds like that’s pretty important.”
“Engine is most important part for any good ship!” She informed me with surprising heat. “Even cheap one costs more than four thousand unless you lucky. Sometimes salvage people come in and sell old one for three thousand.”
Alright. So 20k for the Wormwood if it’s an old clunker, 24k if it’s kitted out at all. Expensive, but given the value of random shit I’ve been handed at level two I might be able to get a lot more than that pulled together by being an adventurer. It’s also built for speed, and doesn’t have a lot of cargo space. If I got a warship I’d be committing to the pirate life over being a merchant or treasure hunter or whatever.
“Ok. So what about that one?” I pointed at a comparatively tiny ship, about five times as big as the jolly boat I’d gone fishing in and sporting a single mast. It had the name “The Kestral” painted on the side. Rowe craned her head to look at it.
“Eh, two thousand probably?” She guessed. “Sloops are fast, and two people could sail one if they needed to. That one has a water elemental harnessed to it for its engine; that’s probably worth as much as the vessel, but it wouldn’t really work on a bigger ship. Too heavy for a small elemental to tow alone.”
I’ll keep that in mind. A small intimate party with a fast boat could be just what I’m looking for. Especially before I’ve established myself; once I have something like that, I could work up to something bigger.
“And that one?” I asked, pointing at the biggest ship in the harbor. After all, I wanted to establish a range.
“Oh that one is a Galley.” She said, “thirty thousand if you want to be an easy mark. Slow, but lots and lots of cargo space. Needs guns and a good engine to survive in the Shackles, enough to double that.”
We had a productive back and forth from there. I was far from an expert, but I was starting to at least understand the shape of the market.
Shame she won’t be around when I’m actually in the market. Not unless I come back here, and I don’t really see why I would. Though actually…
“Have you ever considered joining a crew?” I asked as the conversation wound down. “If you want to own a ship of your own someday, you should probably get some experience. My captain is always hiring, and I bet you’d go far. I’d offer to hire you myself, but I don’t have a ship yet.” (Diplomacy 19+4=23)
“Hmm. I might.” She considered it.
“You’ve got until we shove off at high tide tomorrow.” I told her, “I hope to see you there, eh?”
My curiosity sated and the sun falling low in the sky, I was ready to investigate something else of value. I wanted to know more about magic item crafting, and I only knew one person to ask.
••••••••••
I returned to the ship and did something I had been explicitly told not to do: I knocked on the door to Peppery Longfarthing’s lab. I heard the crunch of a glass shattering on the other side of the door followed by loud cursing. Figuring that I had a better chance of talking my way out of trouble than running away, I steeled myself.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman whose beauty I was in no state to appreciate. Her glare bored into me pinning me in place.
“What is it?” She asked in a clear yet strained voice. “I’m sure it’s important if you’re interrupting my work.”
Autopilot. Figure out something that won’t piss her off!
“Mistress Longfarthing. I am so sorry. I can repair any broken glass you might have if you still have the pieces.” I apologized, kneeling before her in supplication. “I just wanted to try to become your apprentice. I’ll help you in any way I can if you can just teach me to be like you.” (Diplomacy 18+5=23)
She looked down at my prone form and sighed.
“Get your ass in here and start mending. You have until my beaker is fixed to convince me.”
••••••••••
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