Lazybones
Adventurer
Book II, Part 11
The night passed swiftly for the clerics sleeping belowdecks, slowly for the rest of those working to keep the under-crewed vessels moving safely and steadily to the east. By the time that the overcast sky began to brighten with the light of the dawn, the weary mariners were about ready to collapse from exhaustion. Luckily, with the new day the rested clerics were able to renew their divine magics, and soon Delem, Dana, and Ruath were all working to restore their bodies and spirits. The return of the injured crewmembers to duty allowed some of the others to take their rest, and they maneuvered the Gray Raker and Plunder adjacent so that they could switch out crewmembers between the captured vessels and the Raindancer. Captain Horath insisted on shepherding his charges all of the way to safety and he refused to relinquish the helm, calling upon seem deep reserve of energy and determination.
It was well into the afternoon when they caught sight of the tall sea wall of Velen. The gray skies above had darkened with the passage of the day, promising yet more rain before long. The Raindancer, its two prizes trailing close behind, swung around the promontory that warded the harbor and sailed up to the docks of the town.
Velen was a tumultuous place, serving a dual role as a bustling fishing port and as a major naval base for the fighting ships of Tethyr. Only one warship was present in the harbor as they entered the place, a large double-banked galleon, but there were at least a half-dozen other sea-going vessels in addition to a veritable swarm of fishing craft of varying sizes. The day was approaching its end, so many of the latter craft were returning to the harbor, the lucky ones loaded down with the day’s catch.
They attracted the attention of the Harbor Master’s small skiff, and were directed to an open dock near the end of the row of harbor. Even before they had secured their moorings they had attracted the attention of a small but growing crowd; someone had recognized the identity of the pirate vessel that had pulled up to the dock opposite Raindancer.
The rest of the evening passed quickly, as did the following day. While Captain Horath supervised the repairs and resupply of the Raindancer,, with Ruath’s stern gaze urging speed at every turn, the companions took advantage of the respite from the voyage to stretch their legs and enjoy the benefits offered by the town. They sold some of the more valuable items taken from the pirates and used the funds to purchase new equipment, including several bundles of masterwork arrows and bolts to replace those expended in the battle. Benzan added the acid arrows to his arsenal, and spent some time giving pointers to Lok in the use of the massive longbow that had been used by the minotaur. Lok was the only one of them who possessed the strength to fully draw the weapon, and they considered selling it, but were unable to find a buyer willing to offer them a fair price. After some practice, the genasi thought the bow somewhat awkward, and he lacked Benzan’s finesse with the weapon, but he quickly found that its arrows delivered a greater impact than even his heavy crossbow, and at a much faster rate of fire. Satisfied, the genasi unstrung the bow and slipped it into his bag of holding along with a full quiver of arrows.
Cal spent some time poring over the spellbook of the orc wizard. Some of the magic was beyond his capabilities, but there were other spells that he thought that he could grasp, given time to study and reflect upon their magic. His friends were growing a little concerned that the gnome was becoming too withdrawn and isolated, so they pressed him to join them in relaxing and enjoying good food and drink. As word of their accomplishments spread through the town, there was no shortage of individuals willing to pay for either on their behalf, and they were able to work off a lot of the stress from the long voyage and the desperate battle.
The evening of their second day in Velen found the five companions—for they had finally welcomed Dana, blooded in battle beside them, into their circle—seated around a big table in the rear of a bustling tavern near the edge of the dock district of the town. The place was raucous with the sounds of mariners enjoying themselves, both men and women, humans mingled with a smattering of other races, with a roaring fire in the wide hearth banishing the chill settling down over the streets outside. Almost a dozen empty mugs were already scattered across the surface of their table, alongside a trencher that held the remains of what had been a fish of considerable size.
“Another round for the house!” Benzan cried, holding up a fist bulging with gold coins. The occupants of the tavern roared in approval, several crying out a cheer in the tiefling’s honor. Dana shook her head, but Cal grinned.
“Oh, let him have his fun,” he chided, and smiled as he raised his own glass to the tiefling. Indeed, they could afford the extravagance, as they still had over a hundred gold pieces left over after their purchases earlier in the day. Cal remembered when he would have considered that amount a huge sum, back in his youth in Waterdeep, and the thought brought a frown briefly to his face. It was impossible to hold it, however, as a serving girl brought another round of ales to their table.
“I think I’ll head back to the Raindancer soon,” Dana said. She looked a little uncomfortable in this place, still a little unused to the boisterous chaos of the working-class districts.
“Bah, the night is still young!” Benzan cried out, slamming down his empty mug and reaching for another. “Get your hands a little dirty, princess, it won’t hurt you!”
Dana frowned at him, but Cal patted her arm to reassure her. “We’ll go together. It won’t be long now—trust me.”
They all turned as the door opened and a familiar figure entered the tavern. Lok waved to drawn Captain Horeth’s attention, and the slender elf made his way through the crowded room to their table.
“What’s the word, captain?” Cal asked.
“The Raindancer’s fit for sea,” he said. “And not a moment too soon, with the honorable lady Talasca hovering over me like a hungry hawk eyeing a tasty mouse,” he added.
“What about the crew?” Lok asked.
“Our fame has cut a swath to our door,” the captain said, laughing. “I had to turn some prospects away.”
“So when do we leave?” Dana asked.
“On the tide tomorrow morning. So enjoy your evening tonight, because it’s back to sea rations tomorrow!”
“Why don’t you join us, captain?” Cal said. The elf smiled, but shook his head.
“Too much remains to be done. But I did want you to have this. There should be ample time for you tomorrow morning to make use of it before we depart, I should think.” He reached into a pouch and put a small scroll, wrapped in a slender silk ribbon and sealed with a bubble of wax, onto the table.
“What’s that?” Dana asked.
“That, my friends, is a writ from the Artask House, the largest trading concern in Tethyr. It is good for the sum of fifteen hundred gold pieces, your share of the proceeds from the sale of our two pirate vessels. It’s made out to your name, master gnome, but the funds are for all of you, to share as you see fit.”
They all looked at him in surprise, even Benzan’s attention quickly drawn by the announcement to the small scrap of paper.
“That’s very generous, captain, but really…” Cal began. Benzan looked across the table at the gnome incredulously, but the captain cut him off with a warm smile.
“Accept it freely,” he told them. “I have already seen that the other crew—and even the lady cleric—have received their shares, and that the families of the dead crewmembers will be compensated as well. I can assure you that the whole crew shares this view, that none of us would be alive now, or at the very least, free and well, without your assistance.”
“So enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you on the morrow! The trading house is located on the opposite end of the docks, adjacent the barracks. Ask for Master Nalferias, he will be expecting you.”
With that, the elf took his leave.
“Hard to believe that skinny scrap of paper is worth so much money,” Benzan said, his eyes fixed on the scroll as he reached for it. Cal beat him to it, tucking the paper into an inner pocket.
“Why don’t you let me hold onto that,” he said cheerfully. “Tomorrow, we’ll split the money, evenly, and spend it as we each see fit.”
“Hsst—company coming,” Delem said softly, drawing their attention back out into the room.
Delem indicated a knot of eight hulking sailors, each clad in the weathered blue tunic of the Tethyrian navy, making their way from the opposite side of the room toward them. It was impossible not to notice them—they’d only been in the tavern for little under an hour, but they’d made more noise than most groups twice their size and they left a pile of empty mugs behind them that rivaled even Benzan’s accomplished pace. They sauntered over to the companions’ table, and people made way for them as they came.
Their apparent spokesman was a burly figure of a man who had at least a trace of orc blood in his ancestry from the look of him. His head was completely shorn, giving a clear view of the numerous scars that crossed his temples. His companions, equally imposing, fanned out behind him, forming a muscled wall that muted some of the noise from the common room behind them.
“Gentlemen,” Cal said in greeting. “What can we do for you?”
“Me an’ my boys heard that yous was the guys who took down Gohr and the Gray Raker, the leader said. “We just wanted to get a look at those who took down the min’otar, and his crew.”
“You sure it was them?” one of his mates chimed in. “All I see is a couple of scraggly rakes and a pair o’shorties.”
“And a nice piece o’ one,” another said, sidling up closer to Dana. “Hey honey, these scrawny guys aren’t gunna give you what you need. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”
Dana’s face darkened. “Well, if it’s smell bad and act like a pig, thanks, I’ve already seen it,” she replied.
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we don’t want any trouble,” Cal began, but he was interrupted as Benzan suddenly lurched up from his chair and faced the leader.
“Here we go,” Cal said, throwing up his hands.
“Yeah, you gotta problem, little man?” the sailor said to Benzan, who gave up almost a foot and at least fifty pounds in comparison with the scarred man.
“I don’t have a problem,” Benzan said, his voice quiet but with an edge like a sharpened blade. “Like my friend said, why don’t you move along; we’re just trying to enjoy a quiet evening before another voyage.”
The sailor leaned even closer; now less than a foot separated the two men’s faces. “There’s something strange about you, buddy, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not the one whose mother laid down with an orc, by the looks of it.”
The room around them suddenly got really quiet. A ripple of expectant tension passed through the sailors and the companions, interrupted by the rough voice of the tavernkeeper behind the bar. “Take it outside,” he ordered, and as they glanced over they saw that his words were backed up by a loaded crossbow pointed in their direction.
“Yeah, you wanna take it outside, little man?” the sailor said.
Benzan looked at his companions. Cal shook his head, and Benzan turned back to the sailor.
“I think we’ll just leave.”
“Hah! Coward!” the sailor said. He and his comrades hurled other taunts and laughed as the five companions gathered up their possessions and started for the door.
Lok was the last to leave, and as he walked past the row of sailors, the leader looked down at him with contempt.
“Get out of here. Freak.” And with that, he spit in the genasi face.
Benzan turned, and for a moment his hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar. Cal caught him, however, and anger flared in the gnome’s eyes. Lok wiped the spittle from his wrinkled face, but he seemed otherwise unmoved by the insult.
“You’ll never know how close all of you came to dying today,” the gnome said. “But we’ll be happy to teach you fools some manners, outside.”
The night passed swiftly for the clerics sleeping belowdecks, slowly for the rest of those working to keep the under-crewed vessels moving safely and steadily to the east. By the time that the overcast sky began to brighten with the light of the dawn, the weary mariners were about ready to collapse from exhaustion. Luckily, with the new day the rested clerics were able to renew their divine magics, and soon Delem, Dana, and Ruath were all working to restore their bodies and spirits. The return of the injured crewmembers to duty allowed some of the others to take their rest, and they maneuvered the Gray Raker and Plunder adjacent so that they could switch out crewmembers between the captured vessels and the Raindancer. Captain Horath insisted on shepherding his charges all of the way to safety and he refused to relinquish the helm, calling upon seem deep reserve of energy and determination.
It was well into the afternoon when they caught sight of the tall sea wall of Velen. The gray skies above had darkened with the passage of the day, promising yet more rain before long. The Raindancer, its two prizes trailing close behind, swung around the promontory that warded the harbor and sailed up to the docks of the town.
Velen was a tumultuous place, serving a dual role as a bustling fishing port and as a major naval base for the fighting ships of Tethyr. Only one warship was present in the harbor as they entered the place, a large double-banked galleon, but there were at least a half-dozen other sea-going vessels in addition to a veritable swarm of fishing craft of varying sizes. The day was approaching its end, so many of the latter craft were returning to the harbor, the lucky ones loaded down with the day’s catch.
They attracted the attention of the Harbor Master’s small skiff, and were directed to an open dock near the end of the row of harbor. Even before they had secured their moorings they had attracted the attention of a small but growing crowd; someone had recognized the identity of the pirate vessel that had pulled up to the dock opposite Raindancer.
The rest of the evening passed quickly, as did the following day. While Captain Horath supervised the repairs and resupply of the Raindancer,, with Ruath’s stern gaze urging speed at every turn, the companions took advantage of the respite from the voyage to stretch their legs and enjoy the benefits offered by the town. They sold some of the more valuable items taken from the pirates and used the funds to purchase new equipment, including several bundles of masterwork arrows and bolts to replace those expended in the battle. Benzan added the acid arrows to his arsenal, and spent some time giving pointers to Lok in the use of the massive longbow that had been used by the minotaur. Lok was the only one of them who possessed the strength to fully draw the weapon, and they considered selling it, but were unable to find a buyer willing to offer them a fair price. After some practice, the genasi thought the bow somewhat awkward, and he lacked Benzan’s finesse with the weapon, but he quickly found that its arrows delivered a greater impact than even his heavy crossbow, and at a much faster rate of fire. Satisfied, the genasi unstrung the bow and slipped it into his bag of holding along with a full quiver of arrows.
Cal spent some time poring over the spellbook of the orc wizard. Some of the magic was beyond his capabilities, but there were other spells that he thought that he could grasp, given time to study and reflect upon their magic. His friends were growing a little concerned that the gnome was becoming too withdrawn and isolated, so they pressed him to join them in relaxing and enjoying good food and drink. As word of their accomplishments spread through the town, there was no shortage of individuals willing to pay for either on their behalf, and they were able to work off a lot of the stress from the long voyage and the desperate battle.
The evening of their second day in Velen found the five companions—for they had finally welcomed Dana, blooded in battle beside them, into their circle—seated around a big table in the rear of a bustling tavern near the edge of the dock district of the town. The place was raucous with the sounds of mariners enjoying themselves, both men and women, humans mingled with a smattering of other races, with a roaring fire in the wide hearth banishing the chill settling down over the streets outside. Almost a dozen empty mugs were already scattered across the surface of their table, alongside a trencher that held the remains of what had been a fish of considerable size.
“Another round for the house!” Benzan cried, holding up a fist bulging with gold coins. The occupants of the tavern roared in approval, several crying out a cheer in the tiefling’s honor. Dana shook her head, but Cal grinned.
“Oh, let him have his fun,” he chided, and smiled as he raised his own glass to the tiefling. Indeed, they could afford the extravagance, as they still had over a hundred gold pieces left over after their purchases earlier in the day. Cal remembered when he would have considered that amount a huge sum, back in his youth in Waterdeep, and the thought brought a frown briefly to his face. It was impossible to hold it, however, as a serving girl brought another round of ales to their table.
“I think I’ll head back to the Raindancer soon,” Dana said. She looked a little uncomfortable in this place, still a little unused to the boisterous chaos of the working-class districts.
“Bah, the night is still young!” Benzan cried out, slamming down his empty mug and reaching for another. “Get your hands a little dirty, princess, it won’t hurt you!”
Dana frowned at him, but Cal patted her arm to reassure her. “We’ll go together. It won’t be long now—trust me.”
They all turned as the door opened and a familiar figure entered the tavern. Lok waved to drawn Captain Horeth’s attention, and the slender elf made his way through the crowded room to their table.
“What’s the word, captain?” Cal asked.
“The Raindancer’s fit for sea,” he said. “And not a moment too soon, with the honorable lady Talasca hovering over me like a hungry hawk eyeing a tasty mouse,” he added.
“What about the crew?” Lok asked.
“Our fame has cut a swath to our door,” the captain said, laughing. “I had to turn some prospects away.”
“So when do we leave?” Dana asked.
“On the tide tomorrow morning. So enjoy your evening tonight, because it’s back to sea rations tomorrow!”
“Why don’t you join us, captain?” Cal said. The elf smiled, but shook his head.
“Too much remains to be done. But I did want you to have this. There should be ample time for you tomorrow morning to make use of it before we depart, I should think.” He reached into a pouch and put a small scroll, wrapped in a slender silk ribbon and sealed with a bubble of wax, onto the table.
“What’s that?” Dana asked.
“That, my friends, is a writ from the Artask House, the largest trading concern in Tethyr. It is good for the sum of fifteen hundred gold pieces, your share of the proceeds from the sale of our two pirate vessels. It’s made out to your name, master gnome, but the funds are for all of you, to share as you see fit.”
They all looked at him in surprise, even Benzan’s attention quickly drawn by the announcement to the small scrap of paper.
“That’s very generous, captain, but really…” Cal began. Benzan looked across the table at the gnome incredulously, but the captain cut him off with a warm smile.
“Accept it freely,” he told them. “I have already seen that the other crew—and even the lady cleric—have received their shares, and that the families of the dead crewmembers will be compensated as well. I can assure you that the whole crew shares this view, that none of us would be alive now, or at the very least, free and well, without your assistance.”
“So enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you on the morrow! The trading house is located on the opposite end of the docks, adjacent the barracks. Ask for Master Nalferias, he will be expecting you.”
With that, the elf took his leave.
“Hard to believe that skinny scrap of paper is worth so much money,” Benzan said, his eyes fixed on the scroll as he reached for it. Cal beat him to it, tucking the paper into an inner pocket.
“Why don’t you let me hold onto that,” he said cheerfully. “Tomorrow, we’ll split the money, evenly, and spend it as we each see fit.”
“Hsst—company coming,” Delem said softly, drawing their attention back out into the room.
Delem indicated a knot of eight hulking sailors, each clad in the weathered blue tunic of the Tethyrian navy, making their way from the opposite side of the room toward them. It was impossible not to notice them—they’d only been in the tavern for little under an hour, but they’d made more noise than most groups twice their size and they left a pile of empty mugs behind them that rivaled even Benzan’s accomplished pace. They sauntered over to the companions’ table, and people made way for them as they came.
Their apparent spokesman was a burly figure of a man who had at least a trace of orc blood in his ancestry from the look of him. His head was completely shorn, giving a clear view of the numerous scars that crossed his temples. His companions, equally imposing, fanned out behind him, forming a muscled wall that muted some of the noise from the common room behind them.
“Gentlemen,” Cal said in greeting. “What can we do for you?”
“Me an’ my boys heard that yous was the guys who took down Gohr and the Gray Raker, the leader said. “We just wanted to get a look at those who took down the min’otar, and his crew.”
“You sure it was them?” one of his mates chimed in. “All I see is a couple of scraggly rakes and a pair o’shorties.”
“And a nice piece o’ one,” another said, sidling up closer to Dana. “Hey honey, these scrawny guys aren’t gunna give you what you need. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”
Dana’s face darkened. “Well, if it’s smell bad and act like a pig, thanks, I’ve already seen it,” she replied.
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we don’t want any trouble,” Cal began, but he was interrupted as Benzan suddenly lurched up from his chair and faced the leader.
“Here we go,” Cal said, throwing up his hands.
“Yeah, you gotta problem, little man?” the sailor said to Benzan, who gave up almost a foot and at least fifty pounds in comparison with the scarred man.
“I don’t have a problem,” Benzan said, his voice quiet but with an edge like a sharpened blade. “Like my friend said, why don’t you move along; we’re just trying to enjoy a quiet evening before another voyage.”
The sailor leaned even closer; now less than a foot separated the two men’s faces. “There’s something strange about you, buddy, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not the one whose mother laid down with an orc, by the looks of it.”
The room around them suddenly got really quiet. A ripple of expectant tension passed through the sailors and the companions, interrupted by the rough voice of the tavernkeeper behind the bar. “Take it outside,” he ordered, and as they glanced over they saw that his words were backed up by a loaded crossbow pointed in their direction.
“Yeah, you wanna take it outside, little man?” the sailor said.
Benzan looked at his companions. Cal shook his head, and Benzan turned back to the sailor.
“I think we’ll just leave.”
“Hah! Coward!” the sailor said. He and his comrades hurled other taunts and laughed as the five companions gathered up their possessions and started for the door.
Lok was the last to leave, and as he walked past the row of sailors, the leader looked down at him with contempt.
“Get out of here. Freak.” And with that, he spit in the genasi face.
Benzan turned, and for a moment his hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar. Cal caught him, however, and anger flared in the gnome’s eyes. Lok wiped the spittle from his wrinkled face, but he seemed otherwise unmoved by the insult.
“You’ll never know how close all of you came to dying today,” the gnome said. “But we’ll be happy to teach you fools some manners, outside.”