Grenai Fishing Export, the name was still visible on the sign above the entrance to the dockside warehouse. Written in flaking blue lettering above the faded image of a... herring? It was hard to tell. Looking down at the note, checking the name again. This was definielty the place.

'You Beryl?', the young woman had asked, 'Fean said you could help me'. The story was short, but not completely unfamiliar. A happy night out with friends. A handsome stranger. More drinks. A walk home, to more private surroundings. Waking to a empty bed and a empty jewelry box. 'I tried the Watch, but they haven't done anything. don't care about most of it, just cheap costume stuff you know, but my mothers necklace was in there. I can pay you'. Seemed simple enough, the girl had given Beryl a name, Prej Dek, and a few growled questions around bar had rendered the name of his place of employment.

The smell was the first thing that hit Beryl as she walked into the warehouse. The familiar, yet acrid, smell of fish, brine and tar. It permeated everything around her as her eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the large wooden building. Rows upon rows of barrels stacked on wooden shelves large enough to walk on. All lined against the walls of the long one story structure. Though it was light outside, the suns beating down with their customary glare, the warehouse had few windows and was mostly dark. A few oil lamps were onto the shelves at  irregular intervals down through the building. A handful of workers moved through the place, hauling or rolling the tar coated barrels.

'Excuse me? Can I help you?', a portly, older looking elf began walking over to her, a wooden slate and chalk in his hands.

Beryl may not have been performing the most important task in the world. She might not be serving something greater than herself. But if the Port Azure Marines had instilled anything in her, it was the dogged determination to see a mission complete, no matter what. And while running down petty thieves might not be the most glamorous of work, it was honest work. Beryl had taken the contract, which meant that this job was getting done one way or the other.

While the smell of fish and the sea were old friends to the burly Orc, this place was different. This wasn't the open ocean where motion and life circulated those scents. Here they were stagnant and all the more fragrant because of it. Even if the veteran didn't have keen senses, she would have wrinkled her nose at this place. But, she had a job to do, and it wouldn't be right to show any weakness.

When the Elf inquired as to assisting her, Beryl flashed him her tuskiest grin. Better to throw him off while moving in closer, if it came down to that. As she moved closer, the full power of her almost seven-foot frame became apparent, and she had to look down at the portly man.

"Yeah...I'm looking for a Prej Dek that works here. Know where I might find him?" the looming Orc rumbled, not threateningly, but...then again everything she did seemed to make some people nervous.

The elf hesitated for a split second at the sight of Beryls tusk filled smile, "Oh. Uhm, Prej?', he scratched the top of his head as he thought it over, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was rubbing chalk into his hair at the same time, 'Yeah he works here, for now anyway. He didn't show for his shift this morning'. He looked back at Beryl, 'Why are you looking for him?'.

While Beryl didn't want to tip Prej if this guy was his friend, she knew that lies were not an aspect of her person that she had honed. She was a very straightforward kind of person, a trait that had only been reinforced by the military. So she better tell the truth...kind of. Enough of the truth to claim she wasn't lying if pressed, anyway.

"Eh? Oh, I'm just looking for something. I heard through the grapevine he might be able to help me find it," she shrugged, moving her massive shoulders with the simple gesture.

"If he isn't here, do you know where I might find him?" Beryl asked politely.

The elf looked back at Beryl with pensive frown, she could tell he was debating internally whether or not to hand over the information, ' Yeah I guess he wouldn't mind, maybe...'.
Finnally it seemed the man reached a decision, 'You know what, serves him right for leaving me high and dry'. He pointed back towards the city, "There a flophouse near the gate to the Warrens, where he and a couple of the other lads sleep. The Fisherman's Rest, bit of a rough place, but you should be fine', he nodded with a slight smile towards Beryls cutlass.

OOC:
13:15, Today: GM, on behalf of Beryl Brinehammer, rolled 16 using 1d20+3.  Wis (insight).

"Well, thank you Sir. You've been most helpful. And hey, if'n you need any problem's solved, I'm always taking on new clients. Beryl Brinehammer is the name. You cane find me Coral Street, near the Seabeard Shanty. Good day," the Orc rumbled, tipping her tricorn in thanks.

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking towards the Warrens. She had been there before. Hell, she had slept at the Fisherman's Rest before when she had been drunk enough. It was unpleasant like the man said, but that was just the kind of place she expected her mark to lay low in.

As she ambled along to her destination, Beryl began singing a bawdy sea shanty to herself. Just to pass the time. She couldn't carry a tune to save her life, but she was certainly enthusiastic about her singing.

"As I walked out one evening upon a night's career,
I spied a lofty clipper ship and to her I did steer.
She hoisted up her sig-a-nals which I so quickly knew,
And when she saw me bunting up she immediately hove to.
She had a dark and a roving eye, and her hair hung downs in ring-a-lets.
She was a nice girl, a decent girl, but one of the rakish kind.

"Oh sir, won't you excuse me for staying out so late,
And if my parents heard of this, then sad would be my fate.
My father, he's a minister, a good and righteous man,
My mother she's a miser; I do the best I can."
She had a dark and a roving eye, etc.

I eyed that girl both up and down for I'd heard such talk before,
And when she moored herself to me I knew she was a whore.
But still she was a pretty girl; she shyly hung her head.
"I'll go along with you, my lad," was what to me she said.

I took her to a tav-er-in and treated her with wine.
Little did I think that she was one of the rakish kind.
I handled her, I dandled her, and much to my surprise,
Turns out she was a fireship rigged up in a disguise.

So up the stairs and into bed I took that maiden fair.
I fired off my carronade into her thatch of hair.
I fired off a broadside until my shot was spent,
Then rammed that fireship's waterline until my ram was bent.

Then in the morning she was gone, my money was gone too.
My clothes she'd hocked, my watch she stole, my seabag bid adieu.
But she'd left behind a souvenir, I'd have you all to know.
And in nine days, to my surprise, there was fire down below.

So come all you good whaler boys that sail the wintry seas,
And come all you good sailor boys, a warning take by me:
Beware of lofty clipper ships, they'll be the ruin of you,
For she not only made me walk the plank, she set fire to me mainmast, too."

Though her boisterous singing raised a few eyebrows, the trip to the Fisherman's Rest was a familiar one.

The newest of the citys districs the Warrens had sprung up outside the old city walls after Port Azure's independence, as people from began migrating to the city from all over. With no real organisation or planning behind it, the district quickly became a veritable labyrinth of muddy streets and cheaply built houses. Crime ran rampant as unscrupulous people preyed upon the unpoliced population. It was only after a few years the Council recognized the Warrens as part of the city proper and the Gilded Guard were charged with keeping the peace there as well  that some semblance of order was imposed, often quite brutally. It still remains the poorest and largest part of the city, and though Guard still patrol the streets, crime remains a staple of life there.

Located almost directly beside the gate, The Rest was built against the old city wall,  an old wooden, two story building with a slightly sunken roof. A couple of wooden steps led up to the door. Inside Beryl was met by the rank smell of sweat, poorly prepared food and tobacco smoke. Ally Foren, the proprietor turned at the sound of the door. A older human woman, with scraggly greyish hair and a face spiderwebbed with wrinkles and a cigar hanging from the corner of her mouth, 'Yeah?... Oh Beryl? Need a bed luv?'.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:29, Thu 21 Apr 2022.

Beryl managed to suppress a shiver as she entered into the flophouse. She made sure not to brush up against anyone, but the memories of the fleas were so strong she could practically feel her green skin being bitten already. She nodded a greeting to Ally Foren. The fact that she put up with all these cads night after night and didn't get stabbed showed just how tough the old bird was.

"Not tonight. I don't have an appointment with rock bottom this week. Lookin' for lout that might be here though. The name Prej Dek ring any bells?" she grunted, casting one yellow eye around the dingy interior.

Ally frown and took a drag on the cigar, 'Prej Dek? Yeah, he should be here. I knew that waste of space would be trouble... She walked over to a grease stained table and flipped the sign-in ledger towards her. 'He's down the hall, last room on the right. Top bunk', she looked back at Beryl, 'Now I don't want any trouble in here Beryl, if you're gonna rough him up, take it outside yeah?'.

With no windows the long central hallway of the Rest was lit by two lanterns at either end. Peeling wallpaper and bubbling paint marked the walls and as she made her way down towards the end, passing by cheap wooden doors. Most were closed, but others open, and Beryl could hear the occupants within. The piercing, crying of young children, a rough male voice coughing, a couple arguing. Finally, the last door. Even as the door was slightly open, Beryl couldn't hear anything from within.

Not one for playing it overly cautious, or second guessing herself, Beryl pushed on the partially opened door with the tip of her worn boot. All the while keeping a calloused hand on the shaft of the Shipwright's Caulking Mallet that she carried at all times.

There was a reason that she had earned the name "Brinehammer," after all.

She didn't need to strain her eyes to see the interior of the room, as her Orc eyes were more accustomed to the dark than Human ones.

The door creaked open as Beryl pushed it, the smell of unwashed bodies wafting from inside the small chamber. Dimly lit from a single shuttered window opposite the door, a slightly stained bedsheet had been hung across it to further shut out the light, 'Oi, who's there?'

Furnished to maximise how many could sleep inside, the room was almost bare, its only real furniture a couple of bunk beds opposite eachother along the walls. A quick glance showed Beryl three figures inside, one of which was sitting half dressed with his legs over the side of one of the lower beds. The unkempt, bearded man looked over at the doorway with a frown, that quickly turned into alarm at the sight of a large orc sporting an oversized hammer. As he spoke, the figure in the bed above him began moving slightly, and she heard the tired voice of someone a younger than the man in front of her, 'Shut up Trav, my head's killing me'.

Fixed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:45, Mon 25 Apr 2022.

"Prej Dek?" Beryl asked the younger man on the higher level of the bunk bed. with her usual deep rumble.

She made no move to get out of the door-frame and let the older man pass. She wasn't here for any Trav, but he might know something if this other grumbling man turned out not to be Prej Dek. Besides, it was too early to go running through back alleys. Crack a few skulls for answers? Sure. But heavy cardio was for evening hours.

OOC: Beryl is a full Orc, actually.

The older man, Trav, quickly gathered his clothes and slipped past Beryl, avoiding eyecontact with the massive orc. He stank of sweat, cheep grain alcohol and smoke. In bed above the figure stirred a bit more, 'Yeah, what of it?'. He groggily sat up, 'I told you I'd get the money later...', his eyes widened and a hand quickly darted under his pillow. He scrambled up near the end of the bed furthest from Beryl, holding out the blade of a dagger towards her, 'I didn't know alright? I mean, I thought he was just another sailor'.

OOC:
13:19, Today: GM, for the NPC Prej Dek, rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  opposed initiative .
13:18, Today: GM, on behalf of Beryl Brinehammer, rolled 15 using 1d20+1.  opposed initiative .

Beryl tried to snarl the man into submission when it was clear that he would try to either rabbit or pull a weapon. However, as she inhaled, a wad of spit shot into her windpipe, and she began coughing like mad. Not exactly the most scary image one could see.

Through streaming tears of trying to catch her breath, she still tried to close the distance and clock the man in the head so that she might have a few words with him after he woke up.

OOC Mechanics
Hit Points   : 14/14
Armor Class  : 13
Initiative   : 15
Active Spells: None

Move    : Move closer to Prej Dek
Action  : Attack Prej Dek
Bonus   : None
Reaction: TBD

Damage  : 15 Bludgeoning (Nonlethal)

Rolls
08:51, Today: Beryl Brinehammer rolled 4 using 1d20+3.  Intimidation.
08:52, Today: Beryl Brinehammer rolled 13 using 1d20+5.  Attack Roll.
08:52, Today: Beryl Brinehammer rolled 15 using 2d6+3.  Damage Roll.

Prej managed to give a panicked squeek as the hammer descended upon him. A loud meaty thud escaped the room as the now unconscious man fell off the top of the bunk bed onto the filthy wooden floor, the clattering of the dagger he had been holding following shortly thereafter. Behind her Beryl could hear the older man, Trav, gasp and start running, grasping the pants he had only half finished putting on. One the bed opposite Prej, another man sat up in the bed clutching the blanket with a frightened look at Beryl, 'I dunno anything, I swear. I just sleep here'.

Beryl rolled her eyes at the fearful man and her shaking knees. Okay, yes she had entered the flophouse unexpectedly. yes she was a burly Orc. Yes, she had rendered a man senseless with one savage blow. But it was still ridiculous for everyone to think she was out to hurt them.

"Calm yourself. Don't soil the sheets anymore than they already are. I'm not here to hurt you. And if this dolt had waited five seconds, he would have realized I'm not here to hurt him either. I'm just looking for something. You seen Prej hide anything anywhere?" she asked the frightened man as she began to casually search Prej's unconscious body and his bunk for her prize.

She was very thorough, but people could always be sneakier than her.

OOC Mechanics
10:59, Today: Beryl Brinehammer rolled 4,11 using d20+1,d20+3.  Investigation, Perception.

The man stammered and shook his head as he tried to regain his composure, 'Nn... no. I try to keep my head down and out of whatever Prej and Trav are doing. Like I said, I just sleep here'.
Searching Prej's unconscious form yielded little but a small pouch that jingled with coin. The bed however was a different story. Stuffed into the strawfilled mattress, was a small, plain wooden box. Seemingly unlocked, a simple brass latch holding it closed. It rattled as Beryl pulled it from its musty hiding spot, some of the contents clearly metallic.

Thinking perhaps that she had found the necklace already, she opened the brass latch and looked within.

OOC
Removed the gif, since I found it very disracting :)
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:29, Sun 01 May 2022.

Looking inside the box, Beryl could see a another couple of pouches, and a handful of jewelry. Rings, lockets and necklaces, cheaply made most seemed of little to no value. Rumaging though them, Beryl was glad to see the small opal necklace she had been looking for was indeed in there. As she withdrew it another of the trinkets did catch her eye though, an simple golden disc in a slight silver chain. Marked with a stylized cogwheel with a crown inside it, she could recognize the seal of Aggios Nédan, the Merchant Prince. Only someone who worked for the prince would have reason to wear the seal.

Hm. Prej has stickier finger than I thought... when she beheld the pendant with the heraldry of the Merchant Prince.

While interesting, and potentially fatal for Prej if the proper authorities found that he had stolen such an important trinket, it had nothing to do with Beryl or her current job. Grabbing just opal necklace that she had been commissioned to recover, she placed the rest of the goods back into the box, placed them back under the mattress, and dropped Prej's unconscious form back atop it.

She was no thief.

Nodding to the frightened man, she exited the room and made to leave the flophouse. She flicked a gold coin to Ally Foren on the way out. Both as a thank you, and potential down payment for the next time she was in poor condition. It always paid to be on that woman's good-side.

With that, she began whistling a jaunty tune and started making her way back to where her employer was located.

Ally was waiting with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, 'I heard screamin Beryl... I asked you to take it outside', catching the coin, she let out a long suffering sigh. 'Tell me you didn't kill 'im at least?', she shouted after the closing door as Beryl exited the flophouse.

The girl who had hired Beryl lived a little further in the Warrens, a short walk through the mud filled streets. Not wanting to move further out from the wealthier districts of the city the inhabitants of the Warrens had begun building up instead to accomodate growing families and population. Leaning two and three story structures, some of the most extreme bowing so close to eacherother above the streets that it was possible to reach out of a window and touch the building across the street, leading to a cavernous feeling in some neighbourhoods where the sun rarely shone directly on the ground beneath.
Beryls employer, a miss Grethen Shore, seemingly rented a couple of small rooms in one such area. At Beryl's knock, she noticed the curtains move slightly in the window, before hearing a heavy deadbolt being withdrawn. Miss Shore peaked out from behind the door for a second before recognizing Beryl, 'Oh, come in'.

"Ma'am," Beryl replied with a curt nod by way of greeting.

Now that she had been invited inside, the burly Orc ducked her head and entered into the abode of her current employer. She hoped that the return and payment for the job would be equally swift. She hadn't exactly done this out of sheer nobility, after all.

Grethen quickly closed the door and looked back at Beryl with relief, 'Gods be praised you got it!'. She held up the necklace, her eyes growing watery at the sight of the opal, 'Thank you'. Retireving a small pouch from her pocket she clasped it into Beryls waiting hand, 'This means the world to me'.
The pouch jingled with coin, and checking inside Beryl could see the promised twenty gold pieces. Exiting the small apartment, Beryl found herself back on the street, money in hand, her time her own again.

"Pleasure doing business with you. You need any other business handled, well, you know where to find me. Good day, ma'am," Beryl said with a wide grin and a tip of her tricorn.

She whistled merrily as she went down the street. The job was short, sweet, and to the point. All of them should run so smoothly. Now, it was to early for revelry, in her humble opinion. Maybe she could go to the pugilist clubs and bet it all on herself, double her earning or more? Or maybe she should go to her usual haunts and see if there were any jobs waiting for her. Or even try her hand at bounty hunting and check the wanted posters?

So much to do, and so much freedom in which to enjoy it!

Figuring that she had enjoyed success hunting down a man today, Beryl decided to ride the wave of luck and see how much she might mine out of this turn of Tymora's favor. Walking over to the bounty boards, she looked them over, looking for some that might catch her eye.

There were a few places in the city where the Guild Council had placed bounty boards for common use. Normally the Bounty Hunters Guild, which Beryl knew was one of the smaller, more specialized guilds in the city, took their pick of the work offered, and only those bounties deemed to be below the notice of the guild, or for which the guild had noone take the job, were then placed on the public bounty boards. Placed within an open, small wooden stucture with a shingled roof, next to the Rusty Bucket tavern, the public boards was overflowing with notices.
Many were like those of miss Grethen, retrieval of lost items or some such. Looking over the wrinkled, stained papers only two caught Beryls eye.

A badly drawn picture of a human man, an eyepatch over his right eye, bushy brown hair and broken nose. WANTED: Leegin Jasper. For the Crime of Attempted Murder and Theft. 100 goldpieces. Inquire with Senior Watchman Keld at the Watch Station near the Dock-Warrens Gate.

Another was simply a notice promising work and adequate pay for 'people of strong arm and discreet disposition'. Unlike the more official sounding ones, this seemed oddly out of place. The only other thing on it was an address in the Warrens.

This Leegin Jasper looked like the stereotypical pirate of popular myth, and that tickled Beryl's Marine sensibilities. And so the Orc turned on her heel and made for the Dock-Warrens Gate. She had a meeting with Senior Watchman Keld, and a hundred gold pieces to make.

"O there was a lofty ship and a lofty ship was she
And the name of that ship it was the Golden Vanity
And she feared she would be taken by the vile enemy
As she sailed on the lowland, lowland low
As she sailed on the lowland sea

Up stepped a little cabin boy, a cabin boy was he
And he said to the Captain what will you give to me
If I sneak alongside the vile enemy
And I sink her in the lowland, lowland low
And I sink her in the lowland sea

O I will give you silver and I will give you gold
And the hand of my daughter your bonnie bride will be
If you'll sneak alongside of the vile enemy
And you'll sink her in the lowland lowland low
And you'll sink her in the lowland sea

So he jumped overboard and overboard jumped he
And he swam alongside of the vile enemy
And with a little drilling tool he bored holes three
And he sank her in the lowland lowland low
He sank her in the lowland sea

Then he turned himself around and back again swam he
'Til he came to the side of the Golden Vanity
But the Captain would not heed, for his daughter he did need
And he left him in the lowland lowland low
He left him in the lowland sea

Well his shipmates brought him out, but upon the deck he died
And they wrapped him in his blanket that was so soft and wide
And they cast him overboard and he drifted with the tide
And he sank beneath the lowland lowland low
He sank beneath the lowland sea."