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<blockquote data-quote="Olgar Shiverstone" data-source="post: 3819578" data-attributes="member: 5868"><p>After finshing their meals and collecting some key belongings, the group assembled later that night outside The Crimson Genie, a popular house of ill repute in the Dock District not far from the poer where the <em>Blue Nixie</em> was reported to be moored. Thalas had retrieved the remainder of his weapons, and though the polearm he preferred to carry stood well above his head when strapped to his back, it stood out relatively little amidst the stranger sights of the Docks District late at night.</p><p></p><p>Outside the Genie, a few scantily clad strumpets strolled, batting eyes at passers-by, and occasionally snaring a swaying sailor and guiding him up the steps inside to the common room, from which came all manner of cheers, songs, and sounds of bawdy activity.</p><p></p><p>Thalas was generally disgusted. Not at the activity; that was normal for all animals, particularly for humans who seemed to need to rut away the majority of their short lives. Human women were far too round in most features -- eyes, face, chest, hips -- and lacked the pleasing angularity possessed by elven women. Plus human women tended to be too hairy and possess terrible body odor.</p><p></p><p>The others arrived. Thalas nodded to Morderas, then pointed down the nearest dock. "Is that it?"</p><p></p><p>Moderas nodded. "It's moored about a hundred yards out off the end of the dock, tied to a piling. There are usually a couple of guards up on deck. You can just make out their torches from here."</p><p></p><p>Between the torches, the crescent moon, and their elven sight, four of the group could just make out the profile of a three-masted caravel riding genly on the swells in the middle of the harbor. Arjan, meanwhile, was playing with rats in the alleyway next to the genie.</p><p></p><p>"Hey nature boy," Thalas called. "I may be a master of the arcane, but I can't cure bubonic plague. Concentrate here."</p><p></p><p>Arjan reluctantly stopped his tete-a-tete with the local vermin and joined the group.</p><p></p><p>"I think I'm going to talk to some sailors," Athal declared. He started toward the Genie. "Who's with me?" Kyrsith, Arjan, and Morderas demurred, leaving Thalas to drop his glaive and follow Athal inside.</p><p></p><p>In the common room, a number of groups of sailors were drinking, throwing darts, and apparently testing the freshness of the ladies, much as a greengrocer might check his tomatoes for firmness. Athal and Thalas soon located a likely looking group of experienced sailors who weren't too intoxicated, and a few rounds of drinks loosened tongues. Athal gradually brought the conversation around to the ship at the end of the nearby dock.</p><p></p><p>"The Blue Fish-Thing?" the bosun of a whaler asked. "Aye, she's been moored there a fortnight or longer. Little activity; seems she's been put out to rot. No business, though we'd see strange lights out there some nights. Probably teenagers sneaking out nights to play around. Nothing out there to be concerened about. Doubt she's for hire."</p><p></p><p>Satisfied, Thalas flipped the man a silver and motioned for Athal to withdraw. They rejoined the others. "Happy now?" Thalas asked. "Shall we try my way?" Athal shrugged.</p><p></p><p>"My boat's this way," Morderas said, leading the way down the dockside into the darkness.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Olgar Shiverstone, post: 3819578, member: 5868"] After finshing their meals and collecting some key belongings, the group assembled later that night outside The Crimson Genie, a popular house of ill repute in the Dock District not far from the poer where the [i]Blue Nixie[/i] was reported to be moored. Thalas had retrieved the remainder of his weapons, and though the polearm he preferred to carry stood well above his head when strapped to his back, it stood out relatively little amidst the stranger sights of the Docks District late at night. Outside the Genie, a few scantily clad strumpets strolled, batting eyes at passers-by, and occasionally snaring a swaying sailor and guiding him up the steps inside to the common room, from which came all manner of cheers, songs, and sounds of bawdy activity. Thalas was generally disgusted. Not at the activity; that was normal for all animals, particularly for humans who seemed to need to rut away the majority of their short lives. Human women were far too round in most features -- eyes, face, chest, hips -- and lacked the pleasing angularity possessed by elven women. Plus human women tended to be too hairy and possess terrible body odor. The others arrived. Thalas nodded to Morderas, then pointed down the nearest dock. "Is that it?" Moderas nodded. "It's moored about a hundred yards out off the end of the dock, tied to a piling. There are usually a couple of guards up on deck. You can just make out their torches from here." Between the torches, the crescent moon, and their elven sight, four of the group could just make out the profile of a three-masted caravel riding genly on the swells in the middle of the harbor. Arjan, meanwhile, was playing with rats in the alleyway next to the genie. "Hey nature boy," Thalas called. "I may be a master of the arcane, but I can't cure bubonic plague. Concentrate here." Arjan reluctantly stopped his tete-a-tete with the local vermin and joined the group. "I think I'm going to talk to some sailors," Athal declared. He started toward the Genie. "Who's with me?" Kyrsith, Arjan, and Morderas demurred, leaving Thalas to drop his glaive and follow Athal inside. In the common room, a number of groups of sailors were drinking, throwing darts, and apparently testing the freshness of the ladies, much as a greengrocer might check his tomatoes for firmness. Athal and Thalas soon located a likely looking group of experienced sailors who weren't too intoxicated, and a few rounds of drinks loosened tongues. Athal gradually brought the conversation around to the ship at the end of the nearby dock. "The Blue Fish-Thing?" the bosun of a whaler asked. "Aye, she's been moored there a fortnight or longer. Little activity; seems she's been put out to rot. No business, though we'd see strange lights out there some nights. Probably teenagers sneaking out nights to play around. Nothing out there to be concerened about. Doubt she's for hire." Satisfied, Thalas flipped the man a silver and motioned for Athal to withdraw. They rejoined the others. "Happy now?" Thalas asked. "Shall we try my way?" Athal shrugged. "My boat's this way," Morderas said, leading the way down the dockside into the darkness. [/QUOTE]
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