The great port city certainly deserved the reputation it got for size. The docks could host dozens of tall-ships and countless smaller ones. The salt air of the sea mixed with the fresh catches of the early morning and the richness of the spices wafting from the Grand Souk not but a few minutes walk away makes the heat seem tolerable. The docks are busy, the same fishermen hassling longshoremen for better rates while sea captains wait to have cargo and men inspected by the local harbormaster or customs official.

Your group sits at a small cantina just off the water. A dive for fishermen and sailors alike. Rumor has it that this is the place to meet with expedition leaders headed to Amur. The former kingdom on the volcanic island chain has long been the goal of treasure seekers and artifact hunters. When the great storm and dragon wrath leveled the kingdom, it paved the way for Sirai to claim its current glory. None of the noble families now wish to see the city-state resurrected but cannot deny the riches that successful adventurers return with. If they ever do return.

Currently, there is not much at the cantina to occupy you, save for cheap food and cheaper drink. For now, all you can do is wait for the purported recruiter to arrive.

Herrin forgoes anything strong to drink, only ever partaking in such things when she feels safe, which is rare. She would rather not dull her senses, instead ordering the strongest tea the establishment can drum up. She preferred strong flavors, the more bitter the better, but then that suited her in more ways than one.

Her dark blue eyes flick to the other patrons as they wait. Her hard, piercing gaze tends to keep would-be admirers at bay, no matter her pretty features. Despite her feminine build, her strong muscles and tall frame also keep most men away, preferring the company of a daintier sort. She looks...unwelcoming. Always.

She rests a hand on her nearly shaven head, elbow propped on the table to hold it up. As bored looking as someone that alert can look. I hate waiting. she says flatly. And this tea tastes like weak piss.

Khalazar's inch-long, mostly colourless eyebrows had furrowed upon seeing the dive.  He wasn't against living low, but this was a poor choice for the expedition leaders to have made.  Leaving both a bad impression on them and the Jewel itself for those new to it.

Inside he'd - unusually - insisted the group take seats near a window, which he had promptly opened and sat beside. The sun shone brightly but, as ever, had little effect on the old man whose skin seemed apathetic towards its existence.

Despite having intentionally ordered the most odourless things on the menu, Khalazar still could not fault Herrin's complaints.  He absently picked at the so called food with one of his long curved nails, whilst observing the world outside, occasionally taking deep sniffs through the open window.

This hole better have been chosen for convenience sake.  He spat out vitriolically with an almost imperceptible nod in Herrin's direction.  His voice carrying a dry, dusty rasp.  Like slowly swept straw.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

The ordered food and beverages are brought out. It is not passable as anything that was advertised, but for only coppers apiece, it works. The day is growing hot, the tail end of summer not relinquishing its grasp on the equatorial position of the Jeweled City. Fishmongers have started to call out the days catch and your bar maid informs you that she can get fresh fish and lentils from one of them if they wish to pay a premium for the service. Her accent marks her as a native of the city and likely trying to take advantage of you.

If this place can't even get tea right, I'm not fool enough to let you try your hand at fish, Herrin replies flatly, pushing the now empty cup to the edge of the table like it had offended her. At that point she proceeds to ignore the woman, instead leaning back in her chair and stretching, unconcerned. I don't know how much more of this I can stand, she addresses her companions with a glower. I need to move, stretch my legs. I'm tired of sitting in my own sweat.

Mennta would never get used to the giant constructs that people called cities. He understood their convenience, and the safety they could provide for a group, but you removed yourself from so many things that made life worth living, made it enjoyable, or had any real meaning. It was easy to lose who you were and where you came from in great places such as this.

Here beside the water, at least, things were less chaotic than they otherwise would have been anywhere else in the city. If leaders of the Amur expedition were going to cross paths here, hopefully it would happen soon. Mennta looked at Herrin and nodded, "Yes, the sooner we get out of this place, the better. I think they chose it for the fact only a rare few would be here by choice, leaving room for others who are actually interested in joining." Mennta hadn't bothered with ordering food or drink; he knew better than to trust the quality, no matter how low the price.

Apologies for the long wait, the skunk turned out to be the least of concerns as life decided to punch me in the face. Most of my focus is on other things at the moment, so I might be a bit slow for a while. I'll do what I can, but I've got some other things I'm having to focus on for a bit.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:40, Wed 29 Sept 2021.

The barmaid looks disappointed but not offended and moves off to try her luck with other customers. As you prepare to leave, however, a man dressed in the finery of one of the House nobles and accompanied by several guards stops in front of the dive. Whispering a few words to one of his guards, he stands and looks over the patrons. The guards quickly fan out and approach each customer. A small bit of coin exchanges hands and most of the occupants leave. One of the guards comes to your table, speaking in the native dialect. "The place has been reserved by Vizier Imophet of House Sarlutet. You will be compensated for your time with one silver," he states and places the three coins on the table.

Herrin, already about to leave anyway, gives a smirk and immediately takes a coin, flicking it in the air and catching it before shoving it in a pocket. She stands, likely almost as tall as the guard himself, and gives him a tiny nod of acknowledgement, turning to give her companions a waiting look. In actuality, there should be many reasons to wonder why a Vizier should want to reserve such a shoddy establishment. Perhaps even reasons that would be relevant to Herrin, but she'd sat too long and her legs were too stiff to be curious now. She wanted to move, get something real to eat, get blood flowing to her muscles, which were used to far more vigorous activity than rotting in this hellish place.

Mennta stood, considered waiving off the coin, then decided to take it instead so as to not cause a scene. They had been waiting for the man's arrival, which meant it was finally time for something other than just sitting here. Well, near enough, at least.

Khalazar makes a show out of getting up.  Apparently stiff joints make extricating himself from the cornered window seat an arduous task for the old man. He grumbled incoherently to himself, until finally freed and standing in front of the guard, head turned floorward.

He'd been hoping that at least one of his associates would speak up, but since that didn't happen he supposed he'd have to be the one to raise the issue.  Whilst hovering a shaky hand over the silver coin, he paused to ask:

"We," he gently indicated to Mennta and Herrin with the top of his staff, "are here for a meeting.  About an excursion of no small academic importance?" The old man spoke slowly, peering up from under his lengthy eyebrows for any reaction from the guard.  "Not wishing to pry, but perhaps the Vizier made mentioned of such?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:00, Sat 09 Oct 2021.

The guard looks the group over, eyeing Herrin in particular before nodding and holding out his hand in a stopping motion. "Wait here," he instructed and made his way over near the Vizier. Whispers pass between the two and the Vizier smiles slightly and looks at your group. As the guards clear the rest of the patrons out, the Vizier strides over to your table.

You can see that he is wrapped in finery, though the garb and trinkets appear to be nothing more than costume pieces for even the lesser trained eye. He stops and gestures to the table. "Please, sit. My guard tells me that you have come about the rumors of an expedition to Amur, is that correct? If so, may I ask what you are looking to do on the island?"

Herrin watches the man get the Vizier, but does not offer to give him the coin back. If he says something, fine, but the way she sees it, he owes her that much for making her wait in this awful place.

All I'm looking for is a good fight and a few coins. And to keep these two in one piece, she nods to her companions with a half smile. Her time as a bodyguard to them had made her somewhat fond of the two. Closest things to friends she had.

"I'm here to keep this one's head from swelling to an unwieldy size," pointing to Herrin. "I'm also a student ancient writings and artifacts, and a fair hand at staying alive in the wild."

"Knowledge," is all Khalazar says as he once again finds himself a seat.

The man nods sagely, steepling his fingers as he looks over your group. After a moment he smiles. “I am happy to say that all are available in Amur. We will be leaving in a fortnight but I must tell you that it is not free. Expeditions are expensive operations. Everyone must cover the cost of travel. Fifty gold is the amount to buy into the journey. Details upon deposit. I can accept ten percent now to ensure there is room enough,” he finishes.

You can practically feel the oil sliding from his tongue. His tone and demeanor is obvious as a trained busker or showman. You’ve been in this city long enough to know when a negotiation has started.

No. Herrin says flatly, thinking it's good she kept that soldier's coin. I'm not paying that.

In her blunt fashion, negotiations have begun for her too. Her dark blue eyes stare back at the man, unblinking.

For the first time, Khalazar starts to seriously take the measure of the man in front of him.  His brow furrowing in the process.

"Just so." he says to Herrin.

"Sir,"  the old man pushes a chair out towards the vizier with the butt of his staff.  "Surely you would agree that, by definition, business negotiations do require at least a little actual negotiation before any hand-shaking occurs?  Before that though, we would first like to know who we are dealing with.  Your papers, please?"


Persuasion: 7
12:19, Today: Khalazar Ul Atahbi rolled 7 using 1d20+5.  Persuasion - It's just good business.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:19, Mon 01 Nov 2021.

"What if we were to sign on as guards and escorts, rather than just people tagging along for a ride?"

The man laughed and twirled his facial hair. “My friends, I have guards. I am not going to the island for adventure. I am going to facilitate trade. Trade in antiquities. Coins and artifacts abound in Amur. That is my goal. To purchase things that are found within the jungles and ruins of the island. That and any interesting beasts you may capture,” he says and looks to one of his guards.

“Ezekiel, what did that creature from the last expedition go for in the market? The scaly dragon things with claws?”, he asked.

The guard that gave you the coin spoke up. “Two thousand gold was the final bid. The auctioneer called it an Allosaurus, my lord.”

The Vizier smiled and opened his arms. “See? And that expedition only lost ten people to the island. A success in my book. It is not often that you will have the opportunity to get to the island, so my price remains firm. I will offer a bit of information, as a show of good faith and the fact that you have won me a fair bit of money, my muscle bound maiden. You can keep any coin or artifact you find on the island. After all, the fee is just to get you there. There will be room for fifty adventurers. The rest of the expedition is to support the base camp we establish at the abandoned port on the southern portion of the island. Basic amenities will be there. A tent city of services if you will. We stay for two months before the storm season will force us back here. Does this satisfy your curiosities?”

Herrin listens, her expression darkening at mention of the Allosaurus. She always had a soft spot for animals, scaly or not, especially since she knew what it felt like to be captured and caged. When the Vizier brings up winning money from her, her full lips twitch in a smirk. If you made money off my matches, then you know what I'm capable of. I can be useful to you, we all can. But we're not paying fifty gold when you should count yourself lucky to have us.

Khalazar leans forward, onto his staff, with a "hmph."

Mennta nodded to Herrin's comment, but said no more.

The man nods and his smile never waivers. “Ahhh, but mercenaries and hired swords are a silver a dozen. I am looking for those that might be able to not just survive the fallen kingdom but maybe even succeed in making themselves rich, with a modest profit from my services as well. If you find yourselves lacking the coin, I can understand. Fifty gold a head is steep for most, but it also weeds out the riff raff,” he says as he looks around at the dive bar.

“I do have an alternative to fifty gold. There is a man that owes me quite a sum. Two hundred gold that he has not paid me back after a few unlucky bets. If you can gather that for me, I will consider his debt paid and your fees waived. There is also another avenue. Sir Alanzo Brightscale is looking for crusaders to take with him. He intends to honor some fallen Imperial hero by taking on the beast that felled the island. He has paid in full for his company. Thirty men and women. You can try to garner a spot on his roster for passage. Or simply find jobs to do to gain the one hundred and fifty gold your group needs. In any case, there are others that will want to test my prices for passage. If you have need of my services or want to pay your fees, I can be found in the Spice District. Ask for House Sarlutet and you can find me,” finishes with a smile and departs for a table that has been cleaned and prepped for him. It looks like dates, figs, and wine that was not part of the menu had be brought for him while he passes the time.

Herrin considers the options with a thoughtful frown. Collecting the debt was tempting. She did not balk at collecting money where money was due. However, judging by how seedy the Vizier was, it was entirely possible the man was justified in not paying this "debt," and she didn't particularly want to pummel an innocent if she could avoid it. That brought up the possibility of the crusaders. It was tempting...so long as they didn't get in the way and the creature truly deserved it. What a mess. Too many possibilities. She preferred it when her way was more certain.

With a sigh, she turns to her companions. I don't want to get jobs. If I earn fifty gold I'm not giving it to that bastard, she sneers. I don't consider that a deal. That leaves the debtor or the crusade. Neither excites me but they could do. I'll leave it to you masterminds to decide, she says with a smirk.

Mennta spoke softly so as to avoid the ears of others outside the group, "We can talk to the debtor, see what he has to say about the situation, and then decide whether we collect on the debt or not. If not, then we can look into the crusade. Both options allow us entry without having to give him any gold of our own."

Khalazar hauls himself to his feet once again.

"As long as we get to Amur."

"Though, I'd be surprised if this Vizier has seen one-hundred gold in his life, let alone two." He adds, grumbling under his breath.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Mon 08 Nov 2021.

Before you depart from the dive bar, the guard you had spoken with earlier returns, handing Herrin a small scroll. When opened a short time later, it reveals a name and location.

Kyburn; Puddle District

There is no other information and the scroll itself looks like it was cut from a larger piece, based on the rough edges. The day continues to be a sweltering one and the fish mongers are out in full force. The Puddle District is not far from your present location. While not its official name, the Puddle District is an apt moniker.

Little more than unpaved streets that form the large pools of runoff from the aqueduct above it, the Puddle District runs nearly the length of the city. The shade provides the less fortunate with escape from the sun that you do not have to pay for. The water is drinkable, if you take mind to boil it first unless getting it directly from the aqueduct. It is an area rife with crime and poverty. It would make sense that is where a debtor would be hiding.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:48, Fri 17 Dec 2021.

Herrin shows the others the scroll, setting off for the puddle district as soon as they're ready. It felt good to stretch her long legs, which ached from sitting so long. As they go in search for this Kyburn, she keeps a wary eye out for pickpockets, glowering at anyone who comes remotely near, and keeping her coins in the bosom of her shirt. Part of her hoped that someone would try something, just for the sake of giving her someone to pummel. Sitting that long had made her grouchy.

ooc: 09:05, Today: Secret Roll: Herrin Madrigal rolled 13 using 1d20. Is searching for Kybrun an insight check? Or perception? Still getting the hang of 5e. If it's insight, add +1 to the roll, if it's perception, +3.

Khalazar's eyes are on Herrin as he follows her, albeit from the shadows.  He is pondering the nature by which she so effortlessly took the group's lead.  It hadn't been discussed.  It had never been discussed.  Yet it was always her.  He wondered if she even realised it herself, or if she just unconsciously gravitated towards it.

He was surprised to realise that he too felt it was perfectly natural.  Like a universal truth.  One of only three guarantees in life?  Death, taxes and Herrin up front?  He almost smiles at that and might have, if he didn't stub his toe on a aberrant stone.

After angrily hopping around for a bit and berating the object for its lack of manners, he begins talking.  Returning to a thought he'd had earlier, as though they'd been discussing it all along.

"Hmph!  Well, as I was saying, I'd be surprised if that man is any sort of official, let alone a House Vizier!  After this, perhaps we should head down to the docks?  See if he really has chartered any ships for this alleged expedition."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Fri 17 Dec 2021.

"A corrupt official, if he is one at all. Still likely to be our easiest route to reaching our destination, however. More information wouldn't hurt, though. If he has hired a number of ships, there's also a chance we could seek work on one of the ships to get us there instead."

Herrin nods at her companion's musings. Good idea, she says simply. Inwardly, she was secretly hoping that the day would end with her pummeling this supposed vizier. Gods, she needed to pummel something!

The puddle district is a maze that Herrin finds somewhat difficult to navigate. Shantytowns and hovels are everywhere and you get a distinct impression that the city guard does not linger if they don't have to. A major obstacle initially is your presentation, most of the beggars and buskers moving out of your way instead of asking for alms. Every so often a crowd forms as people gather to sell what little trinkets and castoffs from the streets and beaches they can find.

OOC: I will need a perception check from everyone.

"Not the kind of place where one should linger, I feel." Mennta kept his eyes and ears open for hints of danger.

17:04, Today: Mennta rolled 16 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

The cantankerous old Khalazar stays surprisingly alert amidst the streets of the great unwashed.

OOC
23:53, Today: Khalazar Ul Atahbi rolled 23 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

In spite of the wide berth they are given by the public, Herrin's hand grips her halberd tightly, the rest of the shaft resting easily against her shoulder as she walks, ready to use in an instant. This is generally the way she carries the thing. A mixture of ease and readiness, but then that could describe Herrin too.


08:51, Today: Herrin Madrigal rolled 18 using 1d20+3.  perception.

The crowds seem to shift and move around the trio. You're not sure what is off, but something seems unsettling.

Khalazar suddenly darts forward, snarling quietly but menacingly.  From within the heavy confines of his robed sleeve, the old man's clawed hand snaps at something near Herrin's waist.  Like a striking viper.  Or so he hopes.

OOC
19:13, Today: Khalazar Ul Atahbi rolled 15 using 1d20+4.  Dexterity check.

With a deftness that defies his looks, Khalazar grabs hold of a tiny wrist. The wrist is connected to a small humanoid figure wrapped in ragged clothes. Try as they might, the figure is unable to break the grip of the older man.

The gloaming grip is unnaturally gooey and what little flesh remains on his bony hand starts to very slowly envelope the would be thief's arm in its tight hold.  It is an unpleasant experience for all involved.

Wanting neither that nor the aching in his joints, Khalazar shoves the offending appendage (still holding the pilfered purse) towards Herrin.

"This belongs to you."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:51, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

Eyes widening, the first thought upon realizing the situation was the word, "DEATH!" It's quite often her reaction to people that infuriate her, and likely it is written all over her face as she lets out a growl of fury and takes the offered arm none too gently. The size of the figure does give her a little more pause than most, however. Could this be a halfling thief? A dwarf looking to get a broken arm for his attempted pick pocketing? But the chance that this could be a child is what stays her from a more violent reaction, at least until she gets a better look. She scrutinizes the figure, still holding firm, and if there is a hood in place, she'll use the other hand to remove it.

ooc: Let me know if you require a roll ;)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:43, Mon 24 Jan 2022.

As soon as Herrin grabs the little criminal, Khalazar pulls his hand away with a sticky slurp.  He then moves to check his own meagre belongings before finally, firmly holding onto his own purse.

The would-be thief keeps their head down, face obscured by a headdress to keep the sun at bay. A meek voice squeaks out, “Please! I’m sorry. It was just for bread.”

ooc: Do they seem like a child or can she tell?

ic: Herrin scowls down at the figure, her 6 feet height likely making her all the more intimidating to this small person. If you had any idea what I usually do to thieves, you'd have picked a likelier target, she growls. Better to be an honest beggar than a thief. There are better ways to get bread. Now, look me in the eyes, she demands. Don't add cowardice to your list of crimes.

Mennta looked at the kid, simply watching and listening, for now.

13:19, Today: Mennta rolled 13 using 1d20+3.  Insight. – 13

The small figure stops squirming as Herrin speaks. They do not look up, however. With a sudden motion, the would-be thief twists their wrist, and their other hand darts at the fingers holding that wrist.

OOC: I will need a grappling check from Herrin, Athletics, please. Mennta, you are able to determine that the figure indeed seems to be a child, but body language shows no fear, as the deft maneuver by the child confirms.

Swearing savagely, Herrin's grip tightens on the wrist, though even now she reminds herself not to hurt them, in case it is a child. It's easy to be too rough and even she is cognizant of how easy it would be to accidentally harm them. Still, she is firm, struggling to control her temper as she tries to keep them in place.

If she fails, she watches them go with a growl, deciding it isn't worth her effort. If she succeeds, she forces the figure's face up, so she can finally lay to rest if they are in fact a child or not.

ooc: 08:30, Today: Herrin Madrigal rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  grappling check.

"Stop fighting, kid. You tried, you failed. Take your consequences like a man, and learn from it for next time."

The small frame is no match for Herrin's sheer strength and Mennta's words stop the struggle. The voice that speaks sounds young but firm. The hood falls back to reveal a young girl, no more than early teens. Short brown hair that is dirty and matted in places. "Assholes," she grumps as she nearly dangles in Herrin's grip.

Herrin scowls down at the girl, her grip tightens just enough to show her displeasure. Choose your words wisely, brat. Or you'll really have a reason not to like me. She's silent then a moment, considering. Her deep blue eyes bore into the girl's, cold and hard. Though, inwardly, a small amount of pity threatens to form. Not that anyone else could detect it.

You clearly are a pitiful creature, she notes, her voice flat as ever as she sneers down at her. I can see why you'd need coin. But I'll not reward thievery. If you prove useful to me, though, I may have something to toss your way. Enough for food and a much needed bath, her brow arches. You ever hear of a man named Kyburn?

Khalazar, happy to let Herrin deal with the urchin, casts a mistrustful gaze over the crowd.  Are they really here just for the spectacle?  Or could outsiders manhandling one of their own be a problem?

OOC
Insight: 6 (oh well ^^)

14:07, Today: Khalazar Ul Atahbi rolled 6 using 1d20+3.  Insight - Crowd Controlled?

"You steal from us, and we're the assholes? That way of thinking will get you real far in life, kid." Mennta said it all rather deadpan.