On Shanty Point ~~Echoes of Bone pt.4~~

Discussion in 'The Salty Dog Tavern' started by The Watch, Dec 16, 2017.

  1. The Watch

    The Watch Well-Known Member
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    Dorian was exhausted. He had cornered every fence on the island and questioned them, and not a one of them knew what he was talking about. Over the course of the day he'd described the bottle he was looking for at least three dozen times and each time he'd received blank stares at first, and salivating questions by the time he was done. When they realized how rare, and therefore valuable, this particular bottle of dye was they were all intrigued.


    The serving girl that dropped off his plate of roasted pork shanks and pickled cactus fruit and sand pepper sauce was pretty, maybe even beautiful. But Dorian barely noticed her. He was beginning to feel like taking this task had been a fool's errand. He fancied himself cultured and knowledgeable about the ways of the world, but this quest had him stymied and confused.


    Even the direct intervention of Fate herself hadn't helped him, and that was saying something.


    The problem was this didn't feel like the kind of contract he could back out of, and that had him worried. Dorian picked at his food as he thought about what to do, and where he could run if it came to that. He was just settling on a possible rushed trip to Jhelom when a man jostled his arm, spilling some of his ale.


    Dorian looked up, an angry retort on his face, but the man, a paladin in full armor, shook his head. He pointed at the mug on the table instead as he passed, making a single round through the tavern before heading back out onto the street. Dorian lifted his mug and somehow in jostling his arm the paladin had slipped a folded piece of paper under the mug.


    He carefully and discreetly unfolded the note and read the message:


    The Renowned Dorian Andrael,


    I've heard you are looking for information about a certain very special bottle of dye. I have information about just such an artifact and would be glad to share said information with you for a modest fee to be determined at a later date. If you are interested in the information I have, come to Shanty Point, past the guard towers and the city walls. I will be waiting in the last house on Duckbill's Row.


    Signed,


    Braete of Skara


    Dorian whistled softly to himself when he read the signature. He'd heard of this man before, but only in half-whispered rumors and stories that seemed larger than life. There were also more than a handful of stories with a somewhat dark character and there were more than rumors that Braete of Skara was a rather skilled assassin.


    For a brief moment, Dorian considered sticking the corner of the parchment in the flame of the candelabra and dismissing the whole thing. He had enough complications in his life at the moment, and getting mixed up with a potential assassin was something he just didn't need. Still, there was the possibility that Braete actually knew something about the bottle he was after and Dorian couldn't afford to pass that up.


    So he paid his tab at the tavern and rode his trusty roan through the nearly empty streets of Nujel'm. The hour was late and the moon was high over head. A steady breeze blew from the east across the island, carrying with it the thick, heavy salt smell of the sea. At the North Wall, Dorian tied Gilgamesh and left him. The street rats in Shanty Point could get hungry this time of year, and they might try to knock him off the horse and butcher it.

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    This was the side of the island not frequented by rich merchant princes or tradesmen often ventured. Even the occasional salt-crusted pirate that took a holiday in the pleasure islands knew enough to stay clear of Shanty Point. The King's Guards stopped their patrol at the North Wall, and most were grateful for it. And yet that was where Dorian had been called for this meeting, so that's where he was.


    And, oddly enough, the streets were completely deserted. He'd been in Shanty Point more than a handful of times, and there were always people there. Fish mongers called out their catch, often poached or stolen from the nets of other fishermen, along the sides of the streets. Tinkers would advertise their wares from carts rolled through the alleyways, pots and pans clanging along the sides. It was a cacophony of salesmen, prostitutes, conmen, and cutpurses that got really seedy when the sun went down.


    It was said that there were whole financial empires built on the daily costs of municipal resurrections, healings, and, in very severe cases, burial of the victims of each night on Shanty Point.

    P2 Too quiet.png


    But now, there was no one anywhere to be found. It was quiet, eerily quiet. And it made Dorian uncomfortable.


    Finally, he found the specific address that had been scrawled on the back of the note. He opened the door with his foot and stuck his lit verite and gold lantern through the darkened door. A man in a scarlet robe sat in a chair at a table across the room. He held a staff so black it seemed to drink in the lantern light, and looking at it made Dorian shudder.


    The man tipped a wide brimmed hat of a fine blue velvet as Dorian stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Good evening, Dorian Andrael, Grandmaster Merchant, Purveyor of the beloved Village of Paws, and renowned espionage expert. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person after hearing so often of your exploits. I assure you, your reputation precedes you."


    Dorian smiled and made a mock bow, keeping his eyes on the man and a hand near his dagger the entire time. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," he lied. "You obviously know me, but I am afraid I don't recall meeting you before."


    There was the briefest tightening at the corners of the man's mouth, but he hid his irritation well. "I'm Braete of Skara," he said, "it was my note that brought you here. And it was I who cleared the streets so you would have a safe and unbothered way here."


    Dorian nodded, "I thought that might be the case," he said smoothly, "but I did not want to make assumption. It is, of course, a pleasure to meet you as well. Now that we're both pleased, and we both know the other is pleased, can we please get down to the business of exactly why you have brought me here?"

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    Braete smiled a tight, thin-lipped smile, and nodded. "I understand you are in the market for a certain... special...dye? I've heard that you've been questioning every fence out there who has ever sold a stolen nickel silver piece painting pilfered from a lordling's lodge about this dye. And it just so happens that I know where a bottle of this particular dye resides at the moment."


    "Oh do you now?" Dorian asked, and Braete nodded. "Perhaps, if it is authentic, of course. I would have to verify the source to know for sure. Did you see it fished up yourself, or did you see the bottle personally?"


    Braete nodded, "I did both, actually," he replied. "I was with a fisherman pulling up a chest from a shipwreck, and this bottle was in the net with it. He grabbed it first, and was very proud of his find, but the man unfortunately got knifed late that same night in a fight over a dice game. The bottle fell to me, his only living...relative...and I gave it to a monk. After my friend died within a few hours of fishing it up, I felt nervous about it. Then I found out the captain of the ship we'd sailed on had died along with his entire family that same night in a house fire that burned only his house and burned it to the very ground. I figured it was cursed or something, so I got rid of it as soon as I could. The man I gave it to is busy studying it now, trying to figure out how it was made."


    "You say you saw it yourself? What color is it exactly?" Dorian asked.


    Braete pointed to Dorian's ears. "The exact same shade of blue as those earrings you're wearing. Of course, it's wise to be cautious with something like this. Go to Moonglow and Find Telek the Scribe. He'll be at the Observatory. Tell him I sent you and he'll show you the dye."

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    Dorian was silent for a long moment. This all seemed to good to be true, but at the same time this man did not seem to be lying at all. But one important question remained unasked.


    "And how much do you want for this information?" Dorian asked.


    Braete smiled a sly smile. "Let's just say for now it is a favor owed, and a large one at that. And if you end up acquiring the bottle, then you can give me whatever fee you deem to be adequate. I'm not a greedy man, and I try to be reasonable. I'm sure you'll do what is right."


    Braete smiled and stood. "If you sell it, I'll hear about it. And I'll expect to meet you here within a fortnight. Is that clear?"


    Dorian felt a cold shiver run up his spine as he read the unspoken threat of violence if the question. He nodded and forced a smile on his face. Braete returned the smile and the nod.


    "You have safe passage back to the Guard Zone," Braete said, "but after that you're on your own if you come back to the Point. Good luck on your quest, Dorian. I hope you succeed for your sake and mine. If you manage to get that bottle back from the monk it could fetch a very nice price."


    "I'm not selling it," Dorian replied, "It's part of a job interview."


    Braete frowned. "Wait, what do you mean you're not selling it? Why else would someone want to find one of the rarest items in the world? What do you mean a job interview?"


    Dorian reached into his pack. "Here, I have a description of what the man wants in an applicant," he lied. "I know it's in here, just a second." He quickly opened his runebook and flipped to the page for the Nujel'm bank. "Kal Ort Por!" Dorian read, and he felt the spell take hold. The world twisted and suddenly popped back into focus with him standing next to the bank.


    Dorian blinked and stretched, his ears popping. He fished his lantern out of his pack where he'd stashed it during the spell, and began making his way back to the north wall to retrieve his horse. With Braete's dubious past, Dorian felt pretty certain he wouldn't risk a trip into the guard zone after him. Even if he did, Dorian planned to be gone as soon as he was back with Gilgamesh.


    He had a rune for Moonglow, but Gilgamesh got sick when he recalled, so they'd have to take another boat. Now that he was on the scent, he didn't want to give up. He was like a hound who had caught site of his quarry. The blood lust was in him and he hungered for the thrill of the kill that came when he found a difficult to locate item. As long as this trail was hot, he had to pursue it.


    And that meant time for a trip to another island...

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  2. Aragorn - OCT

    Aragorn - OCT Well-Known Member

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    A favor owed is the worst debt.

    Great read, The Watch. Enjoyed it!

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