Freeport- Part 1: the Problem with Crematoriums

[Kangaxx]

Zoraster Surefoot, Halfling Swashbuckler

To Fentrith: "I don't know, anyone who has a monkey that can play cards is alright with me."

"One of you want to look over that body? I'm not much for poking around with the dead."

Chittering something particularly derisory in the Filcher tongue at Fentrith, he scampers to the side of the halfling and gestures in an almost manic frenzy something that looks akin to pointing at the majority of people in the room and then at the ground beneath his feet.

*Watches the filcher gesticulating.* "What is it, you want us all to dance? Hmm, I wonder if you really play cards..."

[OOC: Zoraster thinks he looks like a monkey. ]

 

[DarkMaster]

I don’t suppose that if it is large enough that you would be able to take these poor unfortunate souls along with you?[/b]”

" I don't care about the others but this one" pointing to Enrama's body "is coming along for sure".

 

[DarkMaster]

Villard human ranger/rogue

Fentrith shrugs in regards to Villard's interrogation. "Well, you know mate, I'm a priest of Harrimast. Not like I'm a bloody saint or anything of the sort. Nor do I know much about tombs and th' like, other than to avoid them whenever possible."

"I s'pose I could divine what killed the body by askin' him, but I doubt much that Finnigan would like that too much. Not a fan of speaking to corpses myself, kind of depressing, you know?"

Funny man, lots of talking, few actions. A cleric scared of death people and that know nothing about the crematorium, what kind of people am I mingling with.
I'd rather have another good fighter with us than a want a be cleric.

"Sure, mate, we'll do as you ask. But if we run into a peck of trouble, we expect more adequate compensation, you know? And it's rowing, mate, not that difficult. An eight year old girl could probably row well enough." Fentrith smirks, wondering just what kind of sailor this elf was.

"Money, is it all you care about?" "And concerning rowing I would like to see you in action, you are pretty good with words but when it comes to actually doing something you seem pretty useless"

[OOC Hammerhead, I have nothing against you it's just that my character is a weird man]

 

[Karl Green]

Torren makes his way off toward his home, while the others talk in the wayhouse. Outside it takes the Watch about 5 minute to make it to the pier, and the two Watchmen climb out and tie it up on the docks. The boat has six double-seat benches running down the middle. Four of the seats have oars set up for two-man teams (although just the two Watchmen handle it without to much difficulty, they just were not overly fast).

Father Finnegan Reel listens to most of the conversation and says "Ah well, if there is extra troubles, ah, I am sure that the lot of you can handle whatever trouble might be out there, but well Father Golmon would be better able to handle such things. If you have never been there before let me give you a brief description; the island is about two miles east of here. The Crematorium houses some 15 labors, Father Golmon, who runs the facility and his acolyte Bianka Altanish. Most people are cremated in the furnace, although those who wish to pay a modest fee and an annual donation are interred in the tombs below. The island itself has a very extensive cave system running underneath it. Morley Torrock, the caretaker of the tombs, says that they go on for miles but no one has ever really explored them. Well I am not sure what other help I could give you, except the blessings of Wee Jas, may she guild and protect you all…”

The Father watches you to see what you do. Torren has yet to return, but then it has been no more the 10 minutes…

 

[DarkMaster]

Villard human ranger/rogue

"Thank you father" Then looking straight in his eyes "As a reward I would prefer to get her a proper burial in the tombs, than gold"

turning towards Kitsch
~Where is your friend, we really need to hurry if we don't want to get caught in the storm~
[OOC Karl, I chose the naval sign language]

 

[Ferrix]

~Where is your friend, we really need to hurry if we don't want to get caught in the storm~

*Kitsch gives a toothy grin and signs ~he'll be back soon, he's probably closing up his shop so it's secure for the night. we need to keep all of them here till he returns.~ One more monkey comment...

 

[Karl Green]

After a bit more debate, Fentrith and Black Jack start down the latter to balance the boat for the others to get in without much trouble. Villard places the body of his beloved gently in the back of the boat... much to the worry of some onlookers. Kitsch and Zoraster continue to try and communicate on the dock, when a horse drawn carriage dashes down the street and slides to a stop at the end of the pier... Torrin, with a large bag over one shoulder jumps from the back and runs down the dock to the boat, a large grin on his face...


[OCC again just to move it along a bit, if anyone is opposed or wishes to change please speak up ]

 

[Hammerhead]

Fentrith Fade, Priest of Harrimast

Fentrith laughs uneasily, treating the affair as some kind of joke. "Not all I care about, mate. Not at all. As for the rowing, well, it's a sorry sailor who can't move an oar, you know? Heh, and I am pretty useless. Thought you knew that going in," Fentrith replies, laughing again.

He then grips the intricately crafted black hilt of his sword, rubbing his hand along the pommel. Meanwhile, he observes the tiny filcher's handsigns out of the corner of his eye. "I think the little fella is trying to say something? What's that? Torren fell into a well?"

I understand. Your character isn't the only wierd one by any stretch.

 

[JimAde]

After a bit more debate, Fentrith and Black Jack start down the latter to balance the boat for the others to get in without much trouble. Villard places the body of his beloved gently in the back of the boat... much to the worry of some onlookers. Kitsch and Zoraster continue to try and communicate on the dock, when a horse drawn carriage dashes down the street and slides to a stop at the end of the pier... Torrin, with a large bag over one shoulder jumps from the back and runs down the dock to the boat, a large grin on his face...


[OCC again just to move it along a bit, if anyone is opposed or wishes to change please speak up ]

Pausing briefly to look at the carriage, Torren whistles loudly. "Come on," he shouts, "we don't have all night." A large, brillirantly scarlet parrot flies out of the carriage and lands on his left shoulder. Slung over his right shoulder is a large leather bag. As he approaches the group boarding the boat he says, "just thought I'd grab a few things we might need. Including the Captain here," he says indicating the parrot. "Kitsch are you...ah, yes there you are. Stop dancing with that fellow and both of you come along!" Torren sits at one of the oars and gets ready to do his share of the rowing.

[OOC: I know Kitsch isn't dancing with anybody, but Torren does have a tendancy to assume he's the only one who knows what's going on, even when he doesn't have a clue ]

 

[Ferrix]

Kitsch - filcher rogue 5

Chittering something in filcher akin to "i know, i know", Kitsch scampers across the dock and down the side and into the boat. Taking a position near the prow of the boat, he produces a deck of cards from somewhere [sleight of hand check] and begins to shuffle them absently.

OOC: sleight of hand check = [dice] +12