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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 355988" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><strong>Time for some SALTY dialogue!</strong></p><p></p><p>MODERATORS: I did a little self-censoring here, but if you want me to do a little more just let me know...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Droidi wakes up with the dawn, pondering his mom’s advice: “Go seek out an item of great power, an artifact! There are ways you can use one... secret ways... that will make you, like me, a GOD! But beware- the path to an artifact is fraught with danger. You may be betrayed by lesser beings (for such as us have no need of friends), besieged by horrible monsters, attacked by guardians who would stop any from taking the item you would use. Show no mercy to any creatures that oppose you, and be steadfast in your quest and all you desire may fall into your grasp.”</p><p></p><p>That Decanter of Endless Gloom- that was his first attempt, but finding it? Impossible, at least without powers currently beyond him. Bah! Other opportunities will come. And the animals are his friends. </p><p></p><p>He drops from the tree he slept in and wanders slowly towards town on his lizard, looking for animals as he does so. Nothing of note pops up, but you never know; maybe tomorrow. He gets to the Drinking Dwarves and is surprised to find Captain Clambake there, already up and drinking rum. “Arr,” Clambake calls in greeting, tipping his captain hat at the orc-disguised druid. Droidi orders breakfast, noting with curiosity that Clambake barely touches his own meal.</p><p></p><p>It takes an hour for the rest of the party to gather, and about another hour for them to eat a hearty breakfast. Then the group sets out for the harbor, chatting amicably as they do. By now they’ve all bathed and washed their clothes, and though the locals still look at them with suspicion, our heroes are in a good mood. It only brightens when they spot an old friend thought dead on the street- Horbin the Holy, who they thought was lost in the Isles of Mist! A joyful reunion ensues, leading directly to a return to the Drinking Dwarves. The group catches up, and Horbin tells them that the Gloom’s assault on his senses and will was so severe that he’s not entirely certain how he got out. He remembers- vaguely- a ship, tattered and ghostly, and being pitched overboard. Then he recalls being fished out by a fishing boat and taken here. A few days’ convalescence has seen him as good as new, but he had little hope of finding a friendly face here. He’s happy to have beaten those odds, that’s for sure.</p><p></p><p>“Arr,” Clambake nods. “Luck is with us.”</p><p></p><p>Horbin eats a few eggs and some fish stew, the whole group takes a few moments to down another beer or four, and they wobble out the door towards the harbor again. The group finds their way there relatively quickly; the sun is not yet overhead by the time they get to the docks, and there they see a fascinating and disturbing sight. </p><p></p><p>Strange grey and yellow fungi-like growth is choking the water and it looks like it has grown over most of the ships too. A number of sailors are clustering around idly, spitting and talking about it. The party notes that the entire harbor is covered in the stuff, and it even seems to spill over into the open ocean to a small extent, where the waves wash it out to sea. Droidi leans over to scrutinize it and declares that it’s a type of fungus that typically grows underground: why it seems to be flourishing so well here, in the sun, is a mystery to him.</p><p></p><p>A few inquiries of the sailors about the whereabouts of the harbormistress lead our heroes to a lighthouse. Krunkshank knocks at the door and a window slams open above them.</p><p></p><p>“WHAT THE F**K DO YOU F**KERS WANT?” a female voice yells at them. “WHO THE F**K ARE YA??” A face appears, squinting out at them- and she snarls out again. “WELL, SPEAK UP YOU DUMB SH*TS! I don’t f**king have all f**king day! Speak up or get your little sh*t bastard asses away from my lighthouse! I’ve got lotsa f**king work ta do, and no time for a**holes!”</p><p></p><p>“We want to help with the harbor,” Krunkshank calls up.</p><p></p><p>“WELL WHY DIDN’T YA F**KING SAY SO, YA F**KING IDIOTS!!” the harbormistress yells. “I’ll be right f**king down, ya a**holes!” A moment later the foul-mouthed woman emerges from the lighthouse. She’s dressed practically, with a long scar across one cheek. Her hair is cropped severely short and she peers at the party as if she’s examining a gull’s droppings. “Well?” she demands crossly. “What the f**k do you think you know about all this f**king sh*t??” She gestures violently at the fungus growth.</p><p></p><p>“Well, ah, it shouldn’t be growing here,” Droidi begins, but she cuts him off.</p><p></p><p>“Well, no sh*t! Ain’t you the smart one! Tell me something I don’t f**kin’ know, you stupid a**hole!” Krunkshank chuckles inwardly. This woman talking dirty to him like this is really turning him on. “Well?” she goes on. “Ya got anything f**kin’ new to tell me, or are you just trying to see how much of my f**kin’ time you can f**king waste?”</p><p></p><p>“Look,” says Horbin, “we’re here to help. We want to know what you know about it.”</p><p></p><p>She glares at him, spits on the ground. “Oh great, another bunch a’ useless f**king help!” She sneers at them. “Well, I can tell ya this- it ain’t normally like this in MY f**kin’ harbor. I keep a clean place, and this is REALLY PISSING ME OFF!!!”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, we can tell,” Horbin deadpans.</p><p></p><p>“Arr,” adds Clambake somberly.</p><p></p><p>The harbormistress sighs, shakes her head, pulls a flask from her pocket and takes a big swig, then offers it around. Krunkshank snatches it up and takes a drink of the fiery liquid himself, then passes it around to the braver members of the group, all of whom discover that the harbormistress is a drinker of strong drink. Meanwhile, she continues cussing at them as she fills them in. Apparently the fungus has only recently appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and it has closed the harbor. Ships can neither enter nor leave, and it’s now actually growing on some of the ships trapped at the docks, weakening their planks. “It’s no f**king good,” she concludes. </p><p></p><p>A few inquiries from the group, however, offer one small insight. Apparently, one of the clerics from a local shrine to a deity called Old Grandmother was investigating the situation. The party gets directions to her church and then sets out to find it. “Yes,” Vito slips into the conversation, “our friend Zenvo asked us to look into things here. If we can take care of your problem, I hope you’ll think kindly of him in the election.”</p><p></p><p>“That little f**ker, huh?” harbormistress Bentricle snarls. “Aye, he plays a mean bottle for such a little bastard, don’t he? Well, either way, you fix this damn problem and I’ll give ye what reward I can. Of course, my office has pretty f**kin’ limited resources, especially now. I’ve had to compensate several of the traders that f**king come through here for their time, so funds are low, but I have something you sh*theads would prolly like that we normally reserve for f**kin’ emergencies. Clean this gods-damned mess up and it’s f**kin’ yours!”</p><p></p><p>Encouraged by the thought of a reward, the party sets out for the shrine to Old Grandmother....</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Next update: our heroes continue their investigation, and- as all city and town adventures eventually include- head into the sewers!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 355988, member: 1210"] [b]Time for some SALTY dialogue![/b] MODERATORS: I did a little self-censoring here, but if you want me to do a little more just let me know... Droidi wakes up with the dawn, pondering his mom’s advice: “Go seek out an item of great power, an artifact! There are ways you can use one... secret ways... that will make you, like me, a GOD! But beware- the path to an artifact is fraught with danger. You may be betrayed by lesser beings (for such as us have no need of friends), besieged by horrible monsters, attacked by guardians who would stop any from taking the item you would use. Show no mercy to any creatures that oppose you, and be steadfast in your quest and all you desire may fall into your grasp.” That Decanter of Endless Gloom- that was his first attempt, but finding it? Impossible, at least without powers currently beyond him. Bah! Other opportunities will come. And the animals are his friends. He drops from the tree he slept in and wanders slowly towards town on his lizard, looking for animals as he does so. Nothing of note pops up, but you never know; maybe tomorrow. He gets to the Drinking Dwarves and is surprised to find Captain Clambake there, already up and drinking rum. “Arr,” Clambake calls in greeting, tipping his captain hat at the orc-disguised druid. Droidi orders breakfast, noting with curiosity that Clambake barely touches his own meal. It takes an hour for the rest of the party to gather, and about another hour for them to eat a hearty breakfast. Then the group sets out for the harbor, chatting amicably as they do. By now they’ve all bathed and washed their clothes, and though the locals still look at them with suspicion, our heroes are in a good mood. It only brightens when they spot an old friend thought dead on the street- Horbin the Holy, who they thought was lost in the Isles of Mist! A joyful reunion ensues, leading directly to a return to the Drinking Dwarves. The group catches up, and Horbin tells them that the Gloom’s assault on his senses and will was so severe that he’s not entirely certain how he got out. He remembers- vaguely- a ship, tattered and ghostly, and being pitched overboard. Then he recalls being fished out by a fishing boat and taken here. A few days’ convalescence has seen him as good as new, but he had little hope of finding a friendly face here. He’s happy to have beaten those odds, that’s for sure. “Arr,” Clambake nods. “Luck is with us.” Horbin eats a few eggs and some fish stew, the whole group takes a few moments to down another beer or four, and they wobble out the door towards the harbor again. The group finds their way there relatively quickly; the sun is not yet overhead by the time they get to the docks, and there they see a fascinating and disturbing sight. Strange grey and yellow fungi-like growth is choking the water and it looks like it has grown over most of the ships too. A number of sailors are clustering around idly, spitting and talking about it. The party notes that the entire harbor is covered in the stuff, and it even seems to spill over into the open ocean to a small extent, where the waves wash it out to sea. Droidi leans over to scrutinize it and declares that it’s a type of fungus that typically grows underground: why it seems to be flourishing so well here, in the sun, is a mystery to him. A few inquiries of the sailors about the whereabouts of the harbormistress lead our heroes to a lighthouse. Krunkshank knocks at the door and a window slams open above them. “WHAT THE F**K DO YOU F**KERS WANT?” a female voice yells at them. “WHO THE F**K ARE YA??” A face appears, squinting out at them- and she snarls out again. “WELL, SPEAK UP YOU DUMB SH*TS! I don’t f**king have all f**king day! Speak up or get your little sh*t bastard asses away from my lighthouse! I’ve got lotsa f**king work ta do, and no time for a**holes!” “We want to help with the harbor,” Krunkshank calls up. “WELL WHY DIDN’T YA F**KING SAY SO, YA F**KING IDIOTS!!” the harbormistress yells. “I’ll be right f**king down, ya a**holes!” A moment later the foul-mouthed woman emerges from the lighthouse. She’s dressed practically, with a long scar across one cheek. Her hair is cropped severely short and she peers at the party as if she’s examining a gull’s droppings. “Well?” she demands crossly. “What the f**k do you think you know about all this f**king sh*t??” She gestures violently at the fungus growth. “Well, ah, it shouldn’t be growing here,” Droidi begins, but she cuts him off. “Well, no sh*t! Ain’t you the smart one! Tell me something I don’t f**kin’ know, you stupid a**hole!” Krunkshank chuckles inwardly. This woman talking dirty to him like this is really turning him on. “Well?” she goes on. “Ya got anything f**kin’ new to tell me, or are you just trying to see how much of my f**kin’ time you can f**king waste?” “Look,” says Horbin, “we’re here to help. We want to know what you know about it.” She glares at him, spits on the ground. “Oh great, another bunch a’ useless f**king help!” She sneers at them. “Well, I can tell ya this- it ain’t normally like this in MY f**kin’ harbor. I keep a clean place, and this is REALLY PISSING ME OFF!!!” “Yeah, we can tell,” Horbin deadpans. “Arr,” adds Clambake somberly. The harbormistress sighs, shakes her head, pulls a flask from her pocket and takes a big swig, then offers it around. Krunkshank snatches it up and takes a drink of the fiery liquid himself, then passes it around to the braver members of the group, all of whom discover that the harbormistress is a drinker of strong drink. Meanwhile, she continues cussing at them as she fills them in. Apparently the fungus has only recently appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and it has closed the harbor. Ships can neither enter nor leave, and it’s now actually growing on some of the ships trapped at the docks, weakening their planks. “It’s no f**king good,” she concludes. A few inquiries from the group, however, offer one small insight. Apparently, one of the clerics from a local shrine to a deity called Old Grandmother was investigating the situation. The party gets directions to her church and then sets out to find it. “Yes,” Vito slips into the conversation, “our friend Zenvo asked us to look into things here. If we can take care of your problem, I hope you’ll think kindly of him in the election.” “That little f**ker, huh?” harbormistress Bentricle snarls. “Aye, he plays a mean bottle for such a little bastard, don’t he? Well, either way, you fix this damn problem and I’ll give ye what reward I can. Of course, my office has pretty f**kin’ limited resources, especially now. I’ve had to compensate several of the traders that f**king come through here for their time, so funds are low, but I have something you sh*theads would prolly like that we normally reserve for f**kin’ emergencies. Clean this gods-damned mess up and it’s f**kin’ yours!” Encouraged by the thought of a reward, the party sets out for the shrine to Old Grandmother.... Next update: our heroes continue their investigation, and- as all city and town adventures eventually include- head into the sewers! [/QUOTE]
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