Morgan awoke the next day as the sun managed to pierce the muck on the grubby window. He felt pretty good after the night's sleep. He got up a stretched a bit, feeling the pull of the muscles in his virtual body. So yes, he’d lost a day, but he’d also picked up a couple of gold from Jeremy. Even if he had already spent almost a quarter of that haul yesterday evening. He took out a loaf and started eating. So, he had 2 gold, 13 silvers, and two days to be in the Kandalan outpost, wherever that may be. He had to find out just how far it was, and then he’d chase up Ma Baker’s lead and hope desperately it led to 3 more gold. He decided to send a message to Angie, to see what she was up to.
[Morgan – Angie, hey. Thanks for sorting out my stuff, I’ve got it all and appreciate it. Just made it into Dilanar. You around?]
He didn’t wait around for the reply, starting to head down and out of the inn. As he crossed the threshold, a reply appeared.
[Angie – I've headed up to a town to the north, got a good lead on a chain of quests. It’s almost a full day of travel so I doubt I’ll see you before the outpost. I’ll wait for you there if I get there first. In recognition of your sacrifice, if you’re short and I’m over the 5 gold, I’ll top you up – but I can’t guarantee it’ll be a lot.]
He replied to her with an acknowledgement and thanks, before the dwarf shouted at him to get out of the doorway. He headed into the city, and using the mast of the great ship as a beacon, towards the docks. The streets were teeming with life, players and characters alike bustling about their business as Morgan headed through. As much as he wanted to have a look at the goods of the multitudinous shops and hawkers, but knew he had neither the time or the money to indulge. He made a beeline through the crowd for a flat-topped tower that sported a bell on the upper floor, and the legend ‘Port Authority’ writ large above its door.
He entered into surprisingly grand looking room, arches of stone supporting the high ceiling. A wooden counter, like a tellers stand in a bank sat along one side of the room. He headed towards the Elf at the counter, who was scribbling something onto a roll of parchment. The Elf didn’t respond to his approach, and only noticed Morgan when he tapped softly on the glass that separated the two.
He looked up and squinted at Morgan before greeting him. “Oh, er, hi. I’m Gando. Welcome to the Dilinar Port authority. What can I do for you?”
Morgan replied, politely, “Good to meet you, Gando. I’m Morgan. I’ve just arrived in the city, and am looking for the best way to get to the Kanderlan outpost.”
Gando replied, enthusiastically, “Oh, new here? Well, Dilinar was once an elven outpost, our ancestors sailed here from Glintwind in the east perhaps three hundred years ago. As you can see, Dilinar has changed an awful lot over the years, especially since the Human alliance wrested the territory into their control. It used to be a graceful town, but has long since been overrun by everybody that has three boards free to slap a hovel together.” The Elf sighed deeply, before continuing, “There are two ways to get to the Kanderlan Outpost. You can follow the road west, and the travel will take you half a day. Alternatively, you can buy passage on one of the frequent boats that head up the coast, which would take a couple of hours and cost 40 silvers.”
Morgan digested this information for a moment, before asking, “Thank you Gando. Do you know of any quick, high paying jobs? I’m in a bit of a squeeze for time and money.”
Gando looked at him horrified, “Sir, we’re not that sort of establishment, this is the Port Authority” he enunciated the title very clearly, “and I would now like you to leave.”
Morgan, confused for a second, realised the Elf must have thought he was alluding to some kind of crime, and tried to right the situation, “Gando, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything illegal.”
The elf was having none of it, and pointed sternly to the door. Morgan, sensing that the elf would not back down, turned and headed out of the building.
Flustered by the exchange, he milled aimlessly in the crowd for a minute. He came around when, upon spying one of the many stalls featuring useless looking bric-a-bracs, he remembered he had a couple of items to sell. He headed to one of the stalls, and stood next to a player who was poking through the junk. He nodded politely to the woman, before addressing the seedy looking stall keeper who sat on a ratty stool behind his wares.
“Hi there, I’ve got a couple of items to sell; would you be able to help me?” Morgan started to grab the items from his inventory. The merchant perked up at the statement, and started up as Morgan withdrew the staff and scales.
“Oh yeah, what you got there then.” he gave the two items a once over, “Beetle scales and a stick, eh. You ain’t gonna get a good price for these anywhere, mate. Look here, you look like a good lad so I’ll be generous and give you a silver for the lot.” Morgan’s face fell at this announcement. He wasn’t terribly surprised, to be honest, with his luck. As he was about to hand the items over, the woman to his side kicked his shin. He yelped in surprise and almost dropped the scales as he turned to face the her. Before he could get a word off, a party invitation popped up.
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[Lillian invites you to their party.]
[Accept?]
He quickly accepted the request and pulled away from the stall, to the obvious dismay of the merchant, and moved to Lillian, who had moved a few steps away. She was a powerfully built woman in her forties, with a chainmail shirt hanging from broad shoulders. She had a longbow on her back, and a great sword on her hip. She watched him approach, arms crossed, before verbally laying into him. “Bloody hell. Don’t be a dolt! Wasn’t it obvious that he was trying to fleece you? I mean, this isn’t even being a noob in a game thing, this is just common sense. Don’t just go for the word of the first shmuck who gives you an offer. I mean, especially if they look like that.” She gestured in the direction of the merchant.
Morgan looked at her for a moment in confusion, before responding contritely “I’m sorry, you’re right. Thanks for stopping me.”
She calmed down at this, relaxing a little. “Don’t be sorry. Be better. Politeness is a double-edged sword, learn when to drop it. Not everyone will have your best interests at heart. Including these uncannily real NPC’s. Look, kid, there’s a staff stall in the middle of town who’ll give you a fair price, and you probably want to drop the scales off at the leatherworker. There’s one by the eastern wall.”
Morgan’s look slowly changed from regret to gratitude as she spoke. He thanked her for the information, and she dismissed him with a nod.
[You have been removed from the party]
He acted upon Lillian’s advice, first visiting the heading first to a foul-smelling tannery with an attached leatherworking workshop. A dwarf, who had been scraping down some hides stopped and approached him as he came in. A short chat later, and Morgan exited with three silvers and no chitin.
The staff shop featured the first magi that Morgan had seen in person. The tall, bald and gaunt man was rather imposing and gruff, but after a quick evaluation offered Morgan 15 silver for the staff which he gratefully took. He resisted gawping at the selection of exotic looking mage apparel, and headed to the north.
He passed through the town without incident before passing the inn, and wandered around the buildings nearby for a bit, trying to recall what Ma Baker had told him. An innkeeper on the north side of town. He looked around for a while more before ending up back before the Goblins Arms. An inn on the north side of town. It couldn’t possibly be this grumpy Dwarf, but he had to check. He sighed, and headed in.
He tried to identify the dwarf behind the bar, but it failed. The bartender was just as delighted to see him as before. “What?” He said gruffly to Morgan’s gaze. Morgan started, hesitantly, “Are you Umberto?”
The dwarf’s eyes squinted at him, dangerously. “Who’s askin’?”
Morgan almost took a step back away from the character, but managed to hold himself as he replied, “Ma Baker told me to come look you up for a job.”
The dwarf looked at him with surprise for a second, before his craggy bearded face lit up into a semi-toothless grin. “Missy Baker, ain’t she sweet.” he sighed dreamily, “Alright, you got my ear for a moment, what you need?”
Relieved at the turn in attitude, Morgan continued. “I’m in a bit of a bad spot, I’ve got to get to Kandahar by the end of tomorrow, with three more gold than I currently have. If I don’t the consequences could be... severe.”
Umberto eyed him up and down. “Look, Morgan, was it?” Morgan nodded and he continued, “I ain’t got much for you at the moment, it’s been busy recently. Players like you keep finding your way here. And the amount of time you’ve got is pretty restrictive, if you know what I mean.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Look, any friend of Ma’s is a friend of mine. Take this ale and have a seat while I think about this.” He poured Morgan an ale in a dirty mug and slid it over. In return, Morgan took a couple of loaves out of his inventory, and handed one to the dwarf. The dwarf’s eyes lit up as he took it. “This is one of Ma’s isn’t it, I’d recognise that smell anywhere. Thank you, lad.” He took a reverent bite and a small tear welled up in the corner of a wrinkled eye.
Morgan sat eating, and drank the ale while Umberto was lost in his bread. The ale was drinkable, but nowhere near as good as the ale from the Welcombe inn. He understood why the place was empty, at any rate. After wistfully staring into the distance for a minute, Umberto came back to the present and gave Morgan a hard look.
“There’s only one way I can think of to guarantee you that money in that time. There’s an old cattle herder I know of who’s looking to retire and hand down his class. If you can convince him that you’re a worthy candidate, you’ll get his class and his flock, OK? Now, cows sell for around 60 silvers each here in Dilanar, and you could shift them pretty easy at the docks. Alternatively, you could easily get a gold each for them at the Kanderlan Outpost. Up to you. Last count, he had 6 of them. But you can’t let on that you’re gonna sell them, OK? I don’t think he’d approve.”
Morgan took a moment to think it over before he responded, “That sounds good, just a couple of questions. Do you know how he’ll have me prove my worth? And also, if I take the class, am I stuck with it forever? Will it stop me getting another class?”
The dwarf replied, “I don’t exactly know what he’ll do, but he’s an impatient man so I doubt it’ll take long. As for the class; ye can only have one at a time, but ye can have classes removed at a shrine - for a price. As it’s a working class you’ll get, it’s half the price of a combat class. I think it comes out to 50 silvers per level in the class. It’s been a while since I heard anything about it, though.” He shrugged apologetically. “The man ye’ll want to find is to the east, about three hours walk beyond the gate; halfway between us and the forest. Goes by Brolin.”
[Quest – Cattle Herder : 5XP]
[Talk to Brolin the Cattle Herder]
Morgan accepted the challenge, as he didn’t really have any other options. He thanked Umberto for his help, and gave the dwarf another of Ma’s loaves. The grizzled innkeeper almost teared up again, before turning to Morgan. “Thank ye for this. Gimme a moment,” The innkeeper rustled about under the bar before coming back up and placing an item on the counter. It was a hatchet, and the innkeeper dusted it off to reveal elaborate carvings. “Ye can take this, I’ve no need of it anymore.” he saw Morgan’s incredulous stare. “Oh, I carved the markings when I were bored. It’s not magic or anything. Needs a bit of maintenance. It’s a sturdy thing though.” Morgan took the small axe.
[Identify - Engraved Trusty Hatchet : Tool]
[Use: Allows woodcutting]
[Durability - 67/77]
[Damage - 34-64]
He thanked the dwarf and held it in his hand, feeling its weight, before slotting it into his inventory. With a final nod of appreciation, Morgan took his leave and headed to the east.