Roderick looks at the man warily, but eases slightly as Markey runs over the list and seems to voice approval for the goods. He raises an eyebrow as Markey implies that he's been in business for significantly longer then a century. It seems probable that as a businessman I am outclassed by this man, though I suppose that isn't surprising. Here's to hoping my wit will save us from being gouged. Roderick takes a moment to think over the offered price, finally replying, "I am glad to hear that you are happy with what we have available. You've been truly professional and I will be happy to do business with you again. To clarify, however, your offer is to buy the entirety of our stock for twenty five hundred pieces of gold?"
Roderick leans back, fiddling with the goggles on his forehead and thinking over the offer. We could sell it for substantially more, but I would like to seek out some other information while we're here and that requires good will. Priorities, priorities... Leaning forward again, Roderick replies, "I would feel remiss, and my captain would surely find me so, if I did not ask for three thousand for the entirety of our stock. As you have deftly pointed out, these are rare and high quality pieces that are ready and waiting to be delivered to your customers. You will, by your own admission, be able to readily move the more exquisite pieces and turn a tidy profit in the doing. How do you feel about this asking price?"
The man frowns. "You're also making a rather good profit considering what you paid for the furniture." He looks through Roderick for a moment, as if checking out his insides somehow, a rather intense and disturbing sensation. "Twenty seven fifty." He counter offers.
SHIP WATCH CREW
"Aniisa Rathborne, at your service."
The woman grins. "Well, now, that will make it somewhat harder to find sailors. Half the city has warrants out right now, mostly by clan Stalmorta. The other half aren't sailors." She laughs. "You might want to rethink that requirement. If I might suggest, I suggest you restrict it to people with no Captain's Bounties on their head."
She takes a seat on the railing, crossing her legs at the ankles. "Now then, Stalmorta. Well, it's news, and normally news costs, but I'll put it forward as a good faith offering." Dimples pop on her cheeks. "The previous boss of the city was Stalmorta, and the clan considered the city theirs. The inhabitants didn't. The old boss tried to kill off the new boss because she was making a name for herself, and you know how Stalmorta are about 'surface vermin', even those with wings. The previous bastard of the city tried to have her skinned alive, and she killed half his best assassins and then got her own friends, and a lot of people who were just tired of dealing with the old bastard, and they had a barbeque. Ripped his wings off, burned him alive, and fed his carcass to some jungle cats. Did the same with all his upper lieutenants, a couple of his nastier doxies, and a few of his older kids who didn't agree to exile. The younger ones got shipped off to Stalmorta territory, along with their mothers and anyone that wasn't too hated by the populace. They fit them all on two boats, which ought to tell you how well liked the old boss was. They had a Stalmorta executed yesterday for beating a whore to death. I figure we got a few weeks before it get's back, and another week before the Stalmorta fleet shows up. Should be a good barbeque then, lots of jungle critters get fed by Her B&%$&yness then. Lots of salvage too. You might want to stick around and get in on the salvage if you're low on money, some of those Stalmorta warships will probably bring a pretty penny."
"And I bet Stalmorta crews fight to the death." Connor concluded soberly. "Boarding parties won't find the welcome mat out for them. Which is why any prospective crew we see tomorrow need to be good in a fight, ranged or up-close." The door to the interior opened, and a Halvavian-sized white-colored astral construct came out with a tray carrying a stack of wooden cups and a clay pitcher. The creature came over to the Humavians , and began setting the cups next to people. Connor took the pitcher and offered "Care for some ale, Aniisa? I can't say it's good, but it's local, and recent. Just enough to keep your mouth from going dry from that wind."
"We obviously don't need Gears, unless the Captain overrules me." Connor stated as he poured. "Anyone offering to join the Elephant needs to be better than my constructs, and they're as good as me. I just want to make sure they're patient, not antsy. We don't do courier trips in this old bucket. Or warfare. But we're not giving a free ride to anybody who wants to wait out the battle with Stalmorta, either." The little astral construct continued holding the tray.
Roderick, put off by the odd sensation from the moment before, takes a long moment to reply. What in the name of the High McIntyre's arse was that? An usual sensation to say the least. I wonder what his purpose was in that, as it was clearly him. And how could he know what we paid for that furniture?
Setting aside the distraction, Roderick finally smiles and nods, extending a hand to the man. "I believe we can agree on the price of twenty seven fifty in gold. The number is fair and we both will profit from it. Do you have your own men to fetch the pieces?"
Roderick suspects it may be some sort of extraplanar ability. Elementals don't explode on this plane. If the man has planar blood, that may allow him to do some things that aren't strictly magic or psionics. Most likely, it was some sort of extraplanar 'sense motive' of some kind. As blatant as it was, Roderick suspects he may have used it more as a negotiation tactic.
"Yeah, I'll have a crew down to fetch it before nightfall. Don't want to get it caught in the storms. You want gold, platinum, or gems? I also have some items I could give in trade. Seventy-five percent value on the items toward the gold." He opens a case on the wall behind him.
In the case are 2 cognizance crystals (small, first level). Two small dorjes (Natural Healing), Boots of Stomping, a +1 Psionic Buckler, a +1 Psionic Studded leather armor, and a pair of gloves of the beast (1d3 each).
Elara steps in to run her eyes over the items, but shakes her head. Then she pauses, and pulls out the necklace, frowns and tries to work it, speaking into it. "Testing, anyone there? Anyone got need of-" she looks to Roderick for an explanation, waits for it, then doesn't bother repeating it and just lets his description serve "any of that?"
"The timing for your crew to drop by sounds acceptable. As for the agreed price, I think we'd prefer it a mix of platinum and gold at a roughly eighty to twenty ratio. I don't believe any of the items will prove useful, but my companion is clarifying that now. What I have outlined is acceptable to you, I assume, Captain?" Roderick looks over a shoulder pointedly at his companion.
Rory frowns and then roars annihilating the relative placidness of the negotiations in one breath. "Acceptable! The hell it is! It's cutting me own finger off to save the hand! But I suppose we don't have much choice then do we!?! Very well!"
The furniture dealer looks a bit disappointed he wasn't able to interest the party in objects, rather than cash, but shrugs and vanishes back into a back room.
A few minutes later he returns with the requested amounts, 100 platinum and 250 gold. The platinum is in 2 bags of 50 each, and the gold in 5 bags of 50 each. It's quite a heavy sight.
"My people will have the other half."
Adran walk over picking up two bags.
"Great now all we got to do is get back to the ship without getting killed for this gold. You got a cheap old chest of footlocker we can put this stuff in? People won't care so much about a run down old box we bought for the captain or someting."
Adran looks to the tiefling inquisitively
"Meh, you could walk around with them strung around your neck and be safe. Nobody in their right mind wants to chance killing you for the gold and get beaten to death... or fed to the Boss's birds. Saw them kill a guy who beat up an old woman for her jewelry. Took them 15 minutes to pick him to death, peeling a strip of skin or meat off at a time. Nasty. Rather be hanged personally." He grins. "Now, don't be surprised if someone tries to con you out of it though."
"Which of course doesn't mean someone can't simply snatch it from our hands and wing it in broad daylight, being fully within their right to do so." Alys comments. "At least that is how I understood the rules work here. What about using lethal force to prevent someone from stealing your stuff, anyway?"
"Anyone tries that'll think twice after I grab 'em by the collar and shake 'em till the stupid runs out their noses. Then to the alley with them."
Elara loads up with most of the gold.
"Let's go, daylight's wasting.
"As long as you can prove self defense..." He says with a bow. "I'll have my people down this afternoon."
-------------------------
The trip back to the boat is relatively uneventful. When the party returns, they find Kyzin and Connor on deck talking with a white haired and white winged woman, whom they are plying with wine and flirting with.
Woo! Nice taste! You're finally starting to get the hang of that boy girl thing!
Now now, Hero. The boy is just a bit late on the uptake, no need to insult him...
"We sold the-...... right. Right. Everyone up here chatting with the pretty stranger? Right. Right. S'pleasure ma'am, I'll just be searching the rest of the boat, no offence just startin' to get a hang of this little port."
Passing the rest of the gold to Adran to deal with, Elara does a quick search of the rest of the ship as the dec- as the woman continues talking.
"More gold for me thanks. Hey boss I know not all this is mine but I'm going to go roll around in it a bit... Oh a lady. Sorry for my manners I will put this away and head up to the crows nest keep an eye out of things."
Adran stows the gold in the captain quarters and heads up to the crows nest.
Getting up and turning to the others coming up the gangplank, Connor said "Ah, the Captain and negotiating team returns! Allow me to introduce Aniisa Rathborne, procurer of various available crew members at Anshrin."
After Elara and Adran scooted, Connor continued with Rory. "All's quiet here, Cap'n." he stated. "But if we're looking for new crew-members, I had thought you could start interviewing them tomorrow morning."
Aniisa does a half-bow, and smiles. "Very nice to meet you Captain. Yes, I can get you discreet crew, or gears, as your tastes and needs demand. I can also put you in touch with other people, if you need someone in the area for a specific reason. I understand you were already off selling furniture, and the person you picked is the one I would have sent you to, despite his scary looking wings and eyes." She dimples. "Crew and Gear owners pay me my percentage, not you. For anything else, I get a 5% commission."
"Hmph!" Roryr looks the woman over as he crosses his arms. "Do you represent an agency or are you an independent agent?"
Sense Motive
"I am an agency, sweetie." She says, with a bow. "The Aniisa Agency."
She is obviously after gold, but you're not sensing deception, just greed.
"And how long would it take you to gather such a group of discretionary men and meet us at a place of our choosing, say, ?"
"Well now, that depends on the number of men, and if they have to be men, or if women or unusual creatures also can be considered. As well as, what sort of skills you want or need, as that affects time. It also matters on whether there's a show up fee, usually a couple of silver, or not."
Seeing Rory take over as Captain, Connor handed his mug back to the astral construct, and the servant took the tray, pitcher, and glasses back down below. The others were quiet, or talking out of range, as Connor kept listening to Aniisa and Rory haggle.
Elara keeps a-searching.
Aniira haggles with the captain a bit, and once they strike a deal, she heads off to gather up folks, promising to have them in a couple of days, rather than tomorrow, due to some limitations the captain put on what kind of people he wants to interview.
The next day, the furniture man's people show up to get the cargo, and drop off the other half of the payment. Most of the cargo hold is empty now with the furniture gone.
By the late afternoon, the winds are picking up and whipping the furled sails something fierce, and the Captain orders them taken down completely, along with all the ropes and pulleys that can be removed.
By morning the day after, the sky is black, visibility is maybe 30 ft in the heavy mist that is storm clouds. Lightning crackles visibly along the island, not required to hit the ground to ground out into something.
Like usual when close to the Maelstrom, the dark clouds turn the lightning almost purple as it lashes along. Copper rods dot the city, and lightning crashes into them repeatedly.
The one near the ship catches no fewer than 30 bolts during the closest approach, making the hair of every man and woman aboard the ship stand straight up and poke out. The high pitched buzzing makes teeth grind in response.
Finally, 3 days later, the storm begins to abate...
Perception
Connor spent the rest of the day crafting as he desired. He also got Hero back from Elara.
Psionic Bandages of Rapid Recovery (200 gp, Natural Healing, Cleanse Body, 1 lb)
-----------------------
The next day was spent with Connor worn out as he made construct after construct to take down the sails and batten the hatches.
-----------------------
With nothing to do but watch lightning bolts, Connor retreated to the crew quarters, spending his time crafting as much as he could over the next 3 days.
Gladiator's Gauze (35 gp, Halt Death)
Gladiator's Gauze (35 gp, Halt Death)
Gladiator's Gauze (35 gp, Halt Death)
Connor handed out the universal items as soon as he made them. Due to the storm Connor had to use his Emphatic Condition Relief as well to fight the airsickness of ship swinging in the Maelstrom.
Connor studied his psicrystal staff. It was an iron-shod fighting staff done in mundane crystal. Much more realistic than a wizard's fantasy staff, which would have had Hero at the top of the end like a billiard ball. (How would you strike anything with such a handicap?) Various pockmarks were for handholds as well as psicrystals, setting stones, and even power stones. It was probably better to attach a power stone rather than use the entirety of the staff as a power stone, Connor mused. Still, he wanted this staff to light up like a blazing torch, so he wouldn't have to carry a torch any more. Needed as well was a Reconstruction power stone on it for Hero's sake.
Looking around after the storm, Connor tried to see how the Elephant had endured, as well as the rest of the dock.
Roderick spends his next few days, when not forcing himself to perform his duties, miserably hunched over a bucket as the ship is tossed and turned. What on earth possessed me to agree to travel on this floating death trap? Unused to the rougher life away from the islands, Roderick wiles away the hours in misery, torn between nausea from tossing and turning and the unusual energy in the air.
As the storms begin to abate, he emerges from below deck looking bedraggled and green about the gills. He joins Connor in assessing the damage.
Elara spends the time searching the ship until her paranoia surpasses prudent and begins heading towards embarrassing; she spends the rest of the time sharpening her blade. Loud swears emerge when the lightning storm sends static shooting through her.
Oh deary, what's that Connor?
Connor spots it first, a murky blot on the horizon coming out of the storm clouds, and then he realizes what he's looking at, a dozen ships in black and red armor, huge fans spinning to propel them. Modern metal clad warships with elemental engines for power, rather than sails like the older ships.
Each is flying a flag, but it's too far away to tell what it says, but the colors are Stalmorta.
"...hum. Hrm. Hrm-rm-rmmmm. Odd. Hrm."
Not quite sure what she's seeing but able to try for a guess, Elara tries to borrow a telescope for a better view, and settles herself back against the ship for a show. "...so, does clan special forces pack us with popping corn?"
Connor squinted, then ran to the ship's railing. He used his mindpower Call Item to cause an elaborate spyglass to pop into his hands. Connor looked at one ship's mast's flags, then another. "They came early. Braved the Maelstrom." he said, alarm and respect in his voice.
Still holding the spyglass, the instrument buzzing slightly with an otherworldly shimmer, Connor shouted over his shoulder, loud enough to be heard on the docks below. "STALMORTA SHIPS INCOMING! TWELVE SHIPS ARMED! EVERYONE TO ARMS! EVERYONE TO ARMS!"
"So they DO care about their murderous cousin after all." Alys comments as she flies up into the sail riggings, "I say we duck out of here, Cap'n." she suggests to Rory all the while translucent purple mechanical parts materialize around her left hand and assemble into a massive, heavy barreled ghostly revolver.
When not cooking Adran has taken up his normal place up in the crows nest but he decided to lay down and cross his leg over his knee hands behind his head whistling a tune when he hears Connor shout. He stands up and takes another look at the ships on the horizon.
What direction are they heading?
Do we have a chance in hell of outrunning them if they do chase us?
Profession Sailor.
As the ships get closer and spread out, sirens begin to sound within the city, and there's a general migration deeper into the island, leaving the outer edges of the city more and more deserted. Smaller ships and those on the edges of the city begin moving away from the city, while larger ones seem to be shedding crew.
A large warehouse nearby (about a quarter of a mile) begins opening it's doors, and the barrel of a cannon 10 ft in diameter begins rolling out on rails, crew swarming over it as it begins to adjust for fire.
"What, Cap'n?" Connor asked, seeing Rory's face as he came across the deck. "We're still battened down and wrapped up tight from that Maelstrom. Just getting the sails unfurled would take us over an hour. The best we can do now is not get rolled over by Clan Stalmorta. They hate Humavians, remember? So I'm getting my crossbow and then making two dozen meatshields for us. Unless you have different orders?" he diplomatically questioned.
Connor called out to the others "Prepare to repel boarders! If you need Inertial Armor, come get me! I'll be battle medic when the Stalmorta land. But self-heal first if you can!"
"They're not going to board you fool they'll just blow us to pieces! Everyone off the damn boat and get to cover! Keep together and head for where the rest of the rats are going! Elara! Connor! Try to get that box from below decks Alys! Adran! Get the money! Roderick! KYzin! Come with me to the engine room! If they want this ship I wan to make damn sure they have to work hard for it!"
Knowledge Engineering.
Connor looked from Rory to the ships. "All right, you're the one with experience here." he said. Running to the crew door, he let the spyglass fall so it would disappear back to its' origin. "Grab your stuff if you want to keep it!" he yelled as he went inside.
Whistling through his teeth, Roderick eyes the fleet with a mix of appreciation and well-justified apprehension. Listening to the back and forth between Connor and Rory, Roderick can't help but agree with the captain. "They simply outclass our little vessel and we're hardly capable of fleeing, as he says. Damn that we didn't have a plan in place to get away if needed. Lamentably we never managed to sell our spices. We'll likely need some of your constructs, Connor, to carry away our goods." Hurrying after Rory, Roderick looks over the devices with a quick and practiced eye, looking for places where it could be damaged but still replaced quickly. Once he's helped Rory identify what's needed, he hurries to his bunk and packs what he can of his gear.