We trot along in near silence, keeping the cowls on our new cloaks low. I pull the edge of the rough cloth a bit tighter, shielding my face and keeping my flowing, stark white hair within the concealing shadow of the hood.

The cloaks had been a lucky find as we ducked into a general store. Just one of the many stops we had to make during our trek as we carefully avoided the smattering of guards patrolling the streets.

I'd managed to sweet talk the proprietor a bit, trading my single emerald for the cloaks, a fresh supply of odds and ends that replenished my Adventurers Backpack up to x5 uses, a couple changes of clothes, new sheathes for my dagger and sword, a boot knife, and five rounds of ammunition for my pistol; taking my supply up to a grand total of nine.

Still, I felt woefully under stocked on ammunition and while I had wanted additional bullets those were the only rounds they had in the store. Somehow I knew I possessed the knowledge to create more, just like I knew that I could reuse the empty brass cartridges I had saved. It would however take time we didn't have. And a Gunslingers Toolkit; which they also didn't have in stock.

It had been my intent to try and trade the various monster parts as well, but the shop keep had expressed little interest, informing us that we would have better luck at a tanner or leatherworkers.

Kryst had stayed tucked away, hidden in Cinnamons backpack throughout our quick shopping trip. The fairy had said that she didn't need anything, but I had scrounged about anyway and found, tucked on a shelf with carved wooden toys and hand stitched dolls, a variety of doll sized furniture. In particular a matching set consisting of a bed, table and a couple of small chairs.

Expertly made, all of the wood had been delicately carved and etched with flowing filigree, stained and lacquered a deep, rich, red-brown. The chairs even had plush satin cushions and padded backs and the bed, little cotton sheets, a goose down stuffed miniature mattress and embroidered pillows.

All were sized for more of a Raggedy Ann stuffed dolly than Krysts Barbie like stature, but I figured, with some minor adjustments the furniture could be easily resized for the fairy's comfort.

I kept the purchase of the toy furniture to myself, wrapped in a bundle of protective cloth and secreting it away into my pack. Without the matching doll the little table, chairs and bed had still cost me two gold pieces and three silver, but the shop keep had been kind enough to throw in a few bags of the trail mix nut and dried fruit rations that Cinnamon liked to nibble on along with a small pouch filled with hard candy sweets from a jar on the counter.

Cinnamon had purchased some items also. A variety of small empty bottles and vials along with specially made leather holders that fit around her upper arms. Some strange smelling herbs, a coffee cup sized mortar and pestle and lastly a wooden box that had all sorts of colored salves, powders and little brushes. At first I had thought it to be a container full of art supplies, but when she lifted the top tray to reveal a selection of wigs, false eyebrows, moustaches and the like I recognized it for the Disguise Kit that it was.

We had little time for her to try and use it though, for as morning pressed on the streets got busier. Besides the hired laborers clearing the streets of the piles of leaves to be taken away and burned. People bustle about as they go about their daily life, conversation and chatter building to fill the air.

Vendors shout from market stalls and shop doors trying to direct would be customers to their wares. Trade goods are piled into hand carts as they are bought, sold and traded, and the traffic starts to slow our progress.

Cinnamon draws my attention with a light touch on my hand. With her fantasy anthropomorphic long ears and cute cotton tail hidden under her cloak she looks human, and I can't help but wonder how our interaction would have played out if we'd met in my world instead of hers.

With a nod she indicates a side street, and I follow her lead, falling in step behind her. 

After a few more minutes of walking, and a couple more twists and turns, we arrive onto another main thoroughfare street that borders the Skyport. Cinnamon motions ahead to where a small park like observation area has been built on a section of cliff that juts out in front of the Skydock. Complete with wooden railings around the edge, stone benches, and even a few food stalls. The smells of pastries, grilled meat skewers, and roasted nuts, begs attention. 

"That smells really good." The mumble originates from Cinnamons backpack and I see Kryst pull a few laces apart to peer out. "Pssssttt Hey, B-rye. Do me a solid and go hook me up with some munchies."

"Is your entire digestive systems just a tapeworm? It's been like, less than an hour since we ate breakfast." I stage whisper back before pointing out a bench that is a little further away from the other seats to Cinnamon. "You can't be hungry."

"Brian, one of the great pleasures in my life is doing what others say that I can't." Kryst retorts.

"That... is actually really deep, Kryst." I pause for a moment digesting that rather profound little slice of wisdom as we walk over to the bench. "But a statement like that doesn't apply to hunger." I shake my head, "I mean it's not something that you can just will on."

"Oh? Yeah, I suppose you're right. That must be why only starving people eat." The backpack sarcastically jibes.

"Gosh. Now I feel a little peckish too." Cinnamon mumbles as she slips off her pack and rests it down gently next to her as she sits. She seems to think for a moment glancing about. "And it would help us blend a little more."

"Do we really have time for snacks?" I say in an incredulous tone as I place my packs onto the ground at the edge of the bench. "We are supposed to be looking for this goblin guy."

"Which we could do while enjoying tasty kabobs." Kryst says.

"Oh, umm... roasted nuts for me please, Brian." Cinnamon coos.

"Yeah, it's only one meat stick this Playboy bunny is interested in. Am I right, Cinni?" The backpack bulges into Cinnamons side and I know the fairy is inside of it buckling the leather with an elbow.

Cinnamon giggle coos, her cheeks flushing and she leans over the top of the bag whispering down into the flap. There is a snickering from the interior, and after a pause a small hand pokes out and dismissively waves me away. "Alright, away you go."

Behind my shades my eyes narrow at the talking backpack and Cinnamon. I dislike being shooed but they may have a point. Sitting on the bench and eating something while we wait for our goblin contact would make us a little less conspicuous.

With an exhale I turn on my heel, leaving the ladies to their snicker fest. However, as I make my way toward a couple of the vendors positioned near the edge of the park, I can't help but wonder if I had just failed a 'Persuasion roll' or something.

Deduction: Success!

******************

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The wrapped parchment bag of warm mixed nuts continues its journey from pleasantly balmy to a level of uncomfortable burning, as it sits tucked under the crook of my arm. I shift it every so often to avoid the buildup of heat against my bicep, while I wait for the pair of skewered meat chunks to finish cooking.

Speckled with a sprinkling of seasoning from a small clay pot behind the stalls counter and cooked over an open flame, I too have to admit it does smell absolutely delicious. Curse my insatiable predilection for barbequed food! Clearing my throat to catch the cooks attention, I begrudgingly hold up two more fingers. He merely nods his understanding and begins to assemble another pair of kabobs.

I step back and a portly dockworker moves to the counter to place his order. While I wait, and now that I'm a bit closer to the docks, I take the time to scour the area a bit more.

Sea gulls and pigeon like birds dive and hover in the open gap of empty air between the park edge and the Skydock. Some forty feet away piers project out from the edge of the cliff, the wooden decks reinforced by rust speckled metal frames; all relatively clear of the mud and trampled leaves that cover the rest of the city of Redtree.

Wooden rails spattered with bird droppings frame the sky piers; clearly a precaution to prevent hapless workers and passengers from tumbling the hundreds of feet to the base, where more buildings cluster around the edge of the lake below.

The ropes and cables that dangle from the cranes and Airships rigging sway gently. The winds impacting on the rocky cliff side creating an updraft; a constant warm breeze that blows away both falling leaves and the oppressive, near palpable stink, of rotting vegetation.

And everywhere I look there are goblins. They average from three and a half to perhaps four feet in tall and remind me of a bunch of mottled, green skinned, messed-up looking, Minions.

Not that their appearance, save for the similarity in height, is anything like the beloved 3D animated creatures. In fact, every one of them seems to have extreme variances. From bulbous heads, and ape-like arms, anorexia skinny to obscenely fat, each and every one so completely different to the next that it would be impossible to confuse one with another.

The Minion comparison, in my mind though, comes in the way they move and act. Hustling and clambering about in small droves they chitter and chortle to each other as they go about moving and fixing things in what appears to be more a comedy of errors than any sort of organized workforce.

Over and over my heart leaps into my throat as I watch at least a half dozen of the little critters have near misses with swinging ropes, wooden beams and even a goblin driven, loader style Wargear. Each time, however, they duck, or step out of the way at the last second, completely oblivious to the danger that could have sent them tumbling over the edge of the pier or crushed underfoot of magitech machinery.

Glancing about I notice some of the benches and fences in the park have small groups of people watching just as intently as I am, and it occurs to me that beside the majestic view of the distant ocean, the lush forest, or the river to sea connected lake far below, perhaps many simply come here for the entertainment level live-show the goblins unknowingly perform during what is simply their average workday.

Perception: Success!

The non-goblin stevedores and sailors on the docks all steer clear of the antics, and my discerning eye spots a particular gathering of humans near the bow of the Airship, along with a group of guards.

Taking a couple steps to the side, I causally lean against a tree, interposing it between us in the unlikely event they should glance over in my direction.

Stealth: ???

There seems to be some kind of argument going on between the two sailors and one guard in particular, who judging by his demeanor, is the one charge. He passes the most obstinate looking sailor a roll of papers which they immediately snatch from his hand and unroll, scanning the contents angrily while the other guards continue to load up a cart with milk crate sized square cages.

Perception: Success!

With the suns glare no longer a problem, my sharp elven eyes pick up movement and I see that packed within each cage, fluttering about like tiny birds, are dozens of fairys.

The angry sailor thumbs in the direction of the airship and the other woman takes off at a sprint, hauling-ass up the gang plank she disappears onto the deck.

It takes the guards only a minute or so more to finish loading the crates, then one hops into the small bench-like driver seat. With a smack of a crop the pony hitched cart begins to move along the docks.

The remaining agitated sailor makes yet another attempt for them to stop, but the lead guard dismissively waves her off as they make their way back to the street and out of sight.

"Oy, sir?!" The boisterous voice comes a bit aggressively from a short distance behind me. I turn to see the cook pointing at four skewers of meat tucked into a slotted wooden holder on the counter. By the slightly annoyed tone I realize that the call for my attention was probably not the first one he had made.

"Oh! Sorry, bud." Sheepishly, I give a grimace of apology and hurry over, diving into my pouch to produce the required coinage payment and slide it across the counter.

I'm a few steps away from Cinnamon, still seated on the park bench, when I hear a few shouts from the dock and turn to glimpse a new woman on the deck of the airship, flanked by the previous sailor who had run off.

Decked out in dark leather pants, a white silk shirt and a sword on her hip, she checks all the boxes for a 'smoking hot female swashbuckler' motif. Gold bangles and jewelry glitter against her dusky, olive skin, and her long black hair billows in the wind; held away from her face by a tied red bandana that matches the sash, looped alongside the dagger adorned belts at her waist.

The swashbuckler woman continues to shout down to the sailor, who the guards had brushed off, still standing on the pier, holding the rolled parchment aloft. I strain to hear some of the conversation over the whistle of wind overlaid with the activity of the dockworkers.

Perception: Fail!

Their strange accent, combined with a sudden hi-pitched squealing gust that sweeps their voices away, proves it too difficult a task. The little I do catch is the sexy swashbuckler is addressed as ‘Captain Rain...or perhaps Reigns?’

I let out an audible gasp of alarm when a second later the dark haired beauty places a booted foot on the airships rail and leaps skyward, snatching a rope dangling in the open air over the easily five hundred foot drop.

Like she is straight out of a high-adventure pirate movie, she swings about in a wide arc to land on the dock, the acrobatic momentum transforming instantly into an un-broken, and clearly angst filled stride to the waiting sailor.

The Captain snatches at the parchment, in much the same way her subordinate had done, scanning over the document.

"About time!" Turning back to the bench I hear Kryst's hiss of disapproval, still concealed inside her hiding place in Cinnamon's backpack. "What did you do, go out and hunt and gather the food yourself?"

"Don't you go getting an attitude, woman." I smirk in mock outrage, "Unless you want me to eat it all myself." I take a nibble from one of the meat skewers to punctuate the threat. The smokey flavor is a delight to the tastebuds and before I know it I've already taken a second bite.

"Low, Too tall, that's real, snake belly to the ground, low." The knapsack says.

"That certainly didn't sound like an apology now did it, Cinni?" I ask the bunnygirl as I pass her the still warm a bag of nuts.

"C'mon, big boy..." Kryst voice is low and a breathy and the knapsack lifts a little providing a space large enough for me to pass her the skewers, "While Cinni takes those salty nuts in her mouth how about you... Mmm... slip me some of that hot, meat..." I feel my ears and groin tingle from the fairy's teasing wanton groan.

"Alright, stop that." I say, hurriedly pushing a couple skewers into the pack.

"Easy! Not so Ahh... fast!" Kryst, still in an obviously playful mood, let's out a squeak punctuated moan that tickles Cinnamons sense of humor, and she raises a finger to her lips to stifle a giggle. I feel a flush of embarrassment by their clowning, but smile along with the bunnygirl. It was nice that they were getting along, even if my mind was wandering to the more naughty possible outcomes of the three of us becoming closer.

"If you two have had enough fun at my expense. Have either of you spotted our Goblin contact yet?" I ask, hoping that my attempt to steer the topic of conversation away from nuts and meat and back to the reason we were here, at least pauses the growing visual of a lewd situation involving Kryst and Cinnamon from taking too firm a root in my mind.

Cinnamon shakes her hooded head from side to side in the negative, but stops mid motion.

"Wait. Is that him?" She says with a nod along the path.