The Gambit
Sunlight peaked through the clouds, thin rays that brightened the dockside. Herr Johannes could feel droplets of water from the bay on his face as waves collided with the pier. Across the Bay of Andor they could see the Lower District of Herrod, a thick mass of thousands of buildings, their details barely discernible from this distance. "
The merchant streets should be this way," Jacqueline said. They had lost sight of the others behind them, who didn't have any need for supplies. This part of the pier was lined with ships and merchants. Many of the traders sold their goods out of sheltered stalls facing the water, thin frames of wood and fabric.
Herr Johannes walked up to a fruit stall. Different colors and shapes piled high in baskets arranged on a counter, many of which he didn't recognize. Next to him, an elf purchased some odd looking assortment of vibrant purple berries. "
What are those?" Johannes politely asked. The elf smiled, "
They're called cranberries. They grow in plenty where I come from." "
Strange," Johannes said, curious. Jacqueline spoke with the merchant woman who ended up handing her a free apple. She walked away happily biting into the crisp red fruit, followed by Johannes and the elf who continued chatting together. The elf said his name was Mikael as they continued speaking of foreign fruits and nostalgia.
Then there was sobbing. Wandering the pier, nearly hysterical, a man trudged down the walkway. Seeing the adventurers he lurched forward, falling onto his knees. "
Please!" he cried, desperate. "
Help me. . ." Johannes' face grew resolute, recognizing a person in need,
"We'll help you sir." "
As will I," Mikael volunteered. Johannes gained an immediate respect for the elf. Jacqueline compassionately asked, "
What's the matter?" "
They- They took my daughter," he sobbed. "
Who's all I have. . ." They could barely understand him, between his accent and tears. He was black of hair and had a short beard to match; from the sand-brown color of his skin, they tell he was once from the isle of Olseen.
He continued, "
I'm just a poor merchant. I had debt, debt I couldn't pay, to the Pirates. When I couldn't pay, they took my daughter! She's only fifteen. Please, they'll sell her as a slave! I haven't any money, but please help. . ." Johannes responded firmly, "
Don't worry. We'll help you." The Olseen merchant looked up almost in disbelief, afraid to hope. "
But you must tell us where there went." He stuttered, "
I- I show you." Barely able to stand under the weight of his grief, the merchant led them a little further down the pier, until he pointed toward an ordinary stall. The stall he pointed at sold fabrics, set up against the side of a building; it was made of white sheets, apparently from old sails. There was nothing particularly unusual about it except for the seller, who wore a dull reddish cloak, matching leather armor, and his face was masked by white wrappings – an odd appearance for a trader of fabrics.
"
That's the doorman," the Olseeni merchant said, controlling his emotions. "
Behind him is a door to the Serpent Galleon, an establishment of gambling, harlots, and drink. It's not for the common sailor; only the wealthy and vile can go in there – rich pirates, prosperous thieves, and cruel merchants. Please. She was taken by a wealthy local pirate named Lox. He has a long braided goatee. My daughter, Aisha, is only fifteen with hair black as night. Please save her!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Mon 15 Dec 2014.