Against the Slavers A1: Slave Pits of the Undercity

[Hammerhead]

I don't see the need for concealed weapons in this hive of scum and villainy. Surely everyone carries some form of protection. Indeed, highly visible weaponry may deter the average thug. But that's probably a downside. Malikar begins readjusting his hastily donned plate and checking to make sure all of his weaponry is ready to use. Broad sword, check. Crossbow, check. Dagger, check.

He then withdraws a finely crafted silver necklace of prayer beads from a pouch around his neck, and begins praying to Heironeous, asking him for blessings to enhance his physical might and the strength of his armor.

OOC: Use Necklace of Prayer Beads: Karma, casting Bull's Strength, Endurance, Magic Vestments on Plate and Shield.

 

[rangerjohn]

"I don't know if it means anything, but Socrates says one of the goblins seperated from the group and went to town, while the rest are still on the docks. I would go expecting trouble, and be happy if we don't find it." Thellys reports.

 

[Ankh-Morpork Guard]

Feinar nodded slowly to Thellys, "I believe it is most likely a very good idea to be careful...but I am not all that knowledgable of this place as our dear Captain..."

 

[Tonguez]

As the others talk Orbril climbs atop Poggys back and riding the dog across to the rail looks down over the city, taking in the broad view of the docks and connecting streets. He tries to spy out the position of the goblins and also anywhere that he may be able to hide, climb or otherwise escape to if things turn to custard.

"So" he says as he gets a wiff of the dockside stench "we gain' to nob us a Salty Wench or no?"

 

[Bob Aberton]

Capt. Jack waves away Feinar's mention of his weaponry.

"Y' can be me bodyguard. I'll wear my sword, o' course, as is my right as a captain. I called for concealed weaponry if possible b'cause in a place like this, you look like too much of a threat for one gang of toughs t' take on, then you can be sure you'll be jumped by at least two. People 'round here have a way o' dealing with potential threats, and it ain't delicate. You catch my meanin'?

On t'other hand, don't be a pushover, an' what ever you do, don't back down. Y' show weakness here, you might just live long enough to regret it.

I'm ready for a Wench myself. Shall we go, gentlemen?"

When all is ready, the Captain's coxswain will row the party ashore in the ship's gig.

 

[Halivar]

Our intrepid adventurers hop in a rowboat and make to the docks. The rotund human, the surly half-orc and their merry band of goblin brethren try not to look at you too much. Mostly they seem to just hang around some old barrels and avoiding you.

You can see that the tenth goblin must have come back (since there are... well... ten goblins here).

I'm going to go ahead and let you know that if you wish to enter the city, you will be unaccosted. You see a myriad of orcs, half-orcs, goblins, humans and even an occasional well-avoided troggy.

The city itself is a ruin. Everything is burned out, gutted, and turned into some unsavory establishment of some kind. One in three shops appears to be a fence for stolen goods and foreign loot. The other two in three are used as makeshift houses for goblinoid squatters. Every once in a while, though, you see an inn or tavern. The local non-humans seems to have adopted a taste for human music, as you can hear familiar bawdy tunes, only much much more worse than you remember them.

Finally, Capt. Jack leads you to the Salty Wench, nicely nestled between the Buxom Beast and the Saucy Mermaid. As you walk in, you enter a complete madhouse. Goblins are splayed drunk all over the tables, orcs are trying sing a five-part harmonies in different growly keys and monkeys swing from the chandeliers. The common room is large and well-lit, and is flanked by two sets of stairs leading to a dim balcony. No noise appears to be coming from the balcony, although you do see cigar smoke wafting out of the shadows from it.

 

[ferretguy]

Looking around Tarasin takes in the layout of the inn for possible threats (other then the drunken Goblinoids...)So Cap'n place changed much since you were last here?

 

[Bob Aberton]

The Captain looks around at the squalid slum before him.

"Scenery's changed a bit," he says, and grimaces as the familiar reek of garbage, decay, and cheap wine reaches his nose. "Stinks the same as always, though."

Can't even smell the sea, just a couple blocks away. Damme, what wouldn't I give t' be at sea again?

They walk into the well-lit common room of the inn.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to th' Salty Wench. Watch yer cups carefully, an' stay away from the shadows, if y' can."

He rolls a pair of comatose goblins off a nearby table and orders a rum, favoring the bar maid with a toothy leer, and commences casually scanning the room for threats and/or pretty serving wenches.

He snorts in contempt as he spots the cigar smoke emanating from the shadow on the stairs.

Amateur. I make it three hours before someone slides a knife into hisback...

 

[ferretguy]

OOC: Well Halivar, I will be out of town for the holidays...back on sunday please auto pilot me....

 

[Halivar]

Well, unless anybody has any ideas, you will all be sitting at the table for a while, having drunk some ale (a copper a piece for those who drink, they don't keep tabs here).

You're half-way through the first tankard of the noxious swill (with a hint of pepparoni) when a grimy gentleman approaches you. He is wearing what might have been servant's livery at one point. You can't help but notice a tear in the front of the chest surrounded by a black stain. The man is unkempt, and smiles toothily with a full set of brown, ugly teeth. It's a wonder he's kept them this long.

"Masters, if ye be wantin' to trade in goods, ye be wantin' to speak wif de Baron upstairs," he says with look of anxiousness.