Logan leads Alohan to his favourite water hole which is the 'Skinned Man' at the western end of Shadowshore. If one had to choose a single word to describe this establishment it would be a difficult choice between 'dirty', 'dank' and 'disreputable' - which funnily enough would be words very suited for the cliental of the tavern as well.

Logan walks into the tavern, for a moment remembering his last meal in the tavern - slops and small beer - on the day when Vorsh hired him for the Aubreck heist.  The rogue shakes his head, remembering how much had changed since that day, and not believing the changes in his life since then.  He cleared away a spot for Alohan and him, settling onto a creaking bench and pounding onto the well-scarred table to gain the bartenders attention, holding up two fingers and motioning to Alohan and himself.

When the beer arrived, Logan took a deep smell and smiled, feeling the nostalgia wash over him.  He leaned in close to Alohan and smiled: "You know, I know this is frakkin' cheap beer, but it's the best cheap beer you can find in Shadowshore, probably in all of Sasserine.  At last count, there hadn't been anyone blinded by this rotgut in the past three months."  Logan takes a long swig and grimaces.  "Or was it three days?"  Logan laughs and pats Alohan on the back.

After a few moments more of silence, Logan looks back to the islander.  "That was an impressive bit of negotiations you did with that dwarf back there.  I was expecting something...a great deal less subtle, I guess.  Are you really planning on buying that business out from him?  Did you want to move to the city full time?  The way you talk, sometimes, it seems like you can't wait to be back in the islands.  What brought you here in the first place, if you don't mind me asking?"

Alohan took a sip of the "beer" and almost lost his breakfast. He gripped the table as if the entire tavern were listing in ocean swells and all he could do was hang on for the ride. Only when the sudden urge to spill his guts passed did he quickly take a second gulp. Then a third. While the beer tasted like the bottom of a foot, it sure did have enough alcohol in it to do the job.

"I be dinkin' of buying some property here in Sasserine. I be dinkin' of buying a lot of property. De money I be makin' can be brought back to de islands to help my people into dis new era we be livin' in. Dey be great people but dey be a bit ancient in dere ways. It only be a matter of time before someone be takin' advantage of dem."

The native paused to take a few more swigs of his beer. "Live here for all ma days? No, no," shaking his now inebriated head. "But I want ta be able to travel back and to when I be in charge of ma islands. Connect our peoples. Get enough of ma people in Sasserine to learn and understand your culture. So as to prepare demselves for de future." Alohan caught himself talking like a prince. He was doing a poor job of concealing his identity. He finished his beer to replace the silence.

"I be.. looking for someding," he muttered, wiping the froth from his lips. "I be needin' ta get away. De islands be on ma mind but I like it here in Sasserine. Until I be finding what I seek, I dink I shall remain."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:12, Mon 10 Aug 2015.

The men's bonding is interrupted by an acquaintance of Logan joining their table.


Fraudulent and Flatulent - Fartellamous is a small time crook, pimp and loan-sharp with big time delusions of grandeur.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't young master Logan. And he has a new fiend!" exclaims the opulent man. The gangster sticks a limp hand out in Alohan's general direction. "I am Master Fartellamous, concerned business owner and pillar of the community."

The man continued. "It has been a few nights since we have seen you in here Logan, I hope you aren't beginning to forget your friends in Shadowshore - And I have heard a very disturbing rumour about you causing trouble in Barge End and deciding to help some new friends over poor Soller."
This message was last updated by the player at 18:40, Mon 10 Aug 2015.

Before Logan had a chance to answer the rather large man, Alohan grabbed his hand and shook. "Alohan Nuari," he announced. "And no. De trouble in Barge End be my fault. I be bettin' Logan here I can be runnin' and swimmin' faster den he. I be wrong. De one named Vark be a unfortunate end to our bout of pa uma. Soller Vark be where he shouldn't. Dabbing in oder's coconuts." Alohan let the end linger, hoping the fat man wasn't simple enough to catch his threat.

"Do ya know Master Fartellamous, in de Nuari culture, being fat be a sign of prosperity. A sign of strength! A sign of happiness! But I confess Master Fatellamous... If I ever be as happy as you, I be  gettin' sick of it."

Alohan Nuari didn't like this man.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:50, Mon 10 Aug 2015.

OOC: This is actually taking place a few hours after your conversation with Panchi at 'It Still Floats!'.

The man wrings his hand when Alohan releases it from his powerful grip. "Yes, well, err, any friend of Logan is..." the large man trails off as he tries to work out the implications of Alohan's comment.

"Well gents, it is not for social pleasantries that I join you. I have a business offer to make you." Fartellamous drags a seat over and plonks his girth on it, then leans in conspiratorially. “I hear from a little birdie that you are looking for Penkus? Yes? And perhaps you are heading towards a certain island in the great lagoon?”

Logan glares at his 'friend', then averts his gaze as he tries to suppress his own reaction to Alohan's veiled insults.

"The islander's got the right of things, Farty.  You must have quite a few 'little birds' flying around if you already heard about that.  Or a certain dwarf's got a big mouth.  Probably the latter, I'd wager."

Logan took a sip of his beer, reveling in the feeling of superiority over Fartellamous.  The rogue wasn't used to having others request his services; he was more used to begging for work and being glad for whatever he found.  He slowly, deliberately set down his glass and gave the heavy-set man a flat stare.

"Now, what sort of business offer did you have in mind, should we chance to find ourselves on a certain island?"

The self-styled gangster grits his teeth and mutters something about how he should’ve made Logan work at the ‘velvet hatch’ while he had a chance, but otherwise takes the insult stoically. What else can he do? Logan’s situation has certainly changed over the last couple of days.



Mister Fartellamous clears his throat. “*ahem* Penkus and I used to run together back in the old days, and we were always scouting out good spots to stash items away from the prying eyes of the Dawn Council. Why should they take a cut of my hard earned profit? Anyway, we went over to Parrot Island one time when we were little more than kids and actually camped out for a week. And ee found something… an entrance to a whole bunch of old smuggler caves. We used it a bit, but you know, it isn’t easy to access…” he trials off.

“And that is my point. You can either spend a week sludging around knee deep in parrot shit trying to find something when you aren’t even sure what you are looking for…. Or you can pay me the reasonable sum of fift…” Fartellamous looks over to Alohan who is sub consciously flexing the pectoral muscles of his upper chest to try and stretch out a few knots. The barbarian has a scowl on his face. It has been a whole whopping 48 hours since he last had sex and the guy is feeling antsy, and more than a little agro.

Fartellamous swallows hard. “…well, shall we say twenty gold pieces. I will take you directly to the spot that Penkus and I found and save you a lot of time and unpleasant searching. The island is very overgrown and swampy in most places – you will not enjoy the search I promise you.”

Alohan frowned. He didn't want this individual accompanying him and he had hoped Logan would pick up on his hesitance. This... Fartellemous had all but confirmed Parrot Isle was where they needed to be and if he had to painstakingly search through several square miles of jungle, so be it. It would happily do it, as long as Fartellemous remained in Shadowshore.

"Ten crowns and ya draw us a picture. I be buying de parchment and an ink and ya put memory to paper." His request was blunt. If Fartellemous wanted any gold out of him, it would have to be with written instructions. "Ya be known' how ta write, Fartellemous?"

Logan nodded.  He was none to eager to spend any more time with Fartellamous than required.  "We'll pay you for the map, or for instructions.  But surely Ms. Farty wants to spend time with you?  And you certainly don't want to get your clothes dirty parading through a guano-infested island, do you?"

OOC: You two are so cheeky!

The fat crimelord looks disappointed for a second, but then covers it up with a snarky comment. "Quite right, there are people much more suited to slogging through muck." He gives Logan a knowing look.

"Alright, ten gold and I'll give you directions - I can't make a map because they're aren't any landmarks over there just swamp and manic parrots." He looks down his nose at Alohan - abet from a safe distance out of arms reach. "Yes, I know how to write. But do you know how to read Islander? Or is that why you wanted a map with pretty pictures on it?"

Fartellamous gets Alohan to put the money on the table and then writes down his instructions. "Approach the island from the east - the shore line on that side is a little firmer and more importantly if you look around carefully you'll find some old flagstones buried under the undergrowth. Follow these old stones up a gentle rise to roughly the center of the island - I would recommend that you take a machete with you to cut through the scrub - until you come to a tall stand of bamboo. At the middle of this you'll find a hatch that leads down to the tunnels."

"That's it. And when you met up with Penkus make sure you are polite. He has a bad temper sometimes and I wouldn't want anybody to get hurt." He sneers and looks them up and down. "And it wouldn't be Penkus getting hurt, trust me."

He was shocked. The big man sounded like he actually could offer important information. Alohan leaned back in his chair grinning, generally satisfied with what Fartellamous had to offer. If true, it could possibly save them half-a-day trudging through parrot infested swamp.

"I seem ta have miss judged ya Fartellamous," he said, fishing out some silver. "Let me be buying ya a drink."

Assuming Alohan was serviced in short order, the Islander freshened his mouth with another large gulp. "What type of dwarf is Penkus? Ya be sayin' ya two be comrades in years past. What be happening to ya two?"

The petty gangster pockets the money and says nothing. When the drinks arrive Fartiellamous snatches up his mug of ale and then glares at Alohan. "Don't try and small talk me. You'll get what's coming to you." He moves his glare to include Logan. "You both will," he says with a snarl, and moves off into the crowd.

Logan took another sip of his beer and watched Fartellamous make his ponderous way through the crowd.  When he had gotten far enough way, Logan sighed and leaned in to whisper to Alohan: "That was almost...too easy.  I'm surprised Farty didn't try to haggle more.  It's not like him to give up a single piece of gold when he thinks he has someone by the..."

Logan glanced down, "Er, wave feelers.  I'm worried he knows what on Parrot Island.  Perhaps he's sent word to whomever's hiding there, whether it's the Lotus Dragons or someone else.  Or just Vanthus and Penkus perhaps.  Still, there's a lot more of us then there are those two, so I suppose we have to risk it."

Logan finished his beer, and wiped his mouth.

"Hmm...what do you say, now?  Should we venture back in the better parts of Sasserine, find our companions and tell them we've discovered our next destination?"

Alohan slapped the table and shouted. "Ha! Ya be correct! Dey be knowin' we comin'. Dey be scared. Fearful. De be so frightful -holed up on der isle- expectin' us ta be kicking down der door with fist, blade, and magiks, dat dey send Ser Fartellamous ta give us good warnin'! Ta me, dat be saying dey tryin' ta keep us off dere shores." The Native gulped down his beer, "I be dinkin' we ridin' de right waves."

He stood and was greeted by a wave of drunken vertigo. He gripped the table reflexively. "Come, come. Let us be finding de oders."

OOC: Cool, see you back in the main thread once they escape the Santos house.