The Haven was not designed to be a tugboat. It had movement enchantments but the spell ‘engine’ was not designed for hauling 15 tons of dead leocampus. With Joe swimming under and Hahroo dancing over the carcass, they managed to keep the cadaver from floating away or sinking but getting it to shore was a long, slow process.
They inched their way through the waves, thankfully increasing the number of wards around the vessel and the tasty corpse. The natural predatory fish came to see what was leaking such copious amounts of blood. Once they found a voracious akhlut circling the carcass, most were smart and fled. Those that didn’t kept Finn’s hunger in check.
As the summoned squall finished blowing itself out, the enchanted houseboat was finally pulling up to the docks. Joe paid Harbormaster Banabbi to rent a [Catch Crate], a large-scale extra-dimensional storage for shipping hauls. The dead sea beast he had tied to the Haven aft met the crate’s qualifications.
In the short quarter-hour it took Joe to find the Master Banabbi and set up the rental, the sea-lion had drawn a significant crowd. Tezeno and Hah’roo were happily regaling the crowd with the tale of the monster’s destruction. Joe’s big rubbery-hided companion was coming out as the champion of the story and was receiving lots of praise, and better yet, fish, for his heroics.
Finn was becoming more and more welcome around the docks. He was not allowed any further into the city though. The term “bull in a china shop” perfectly described the chimera’s care for any cart, booth, or decoration in his way. The fisherfolk realized that tossing the big brute a couple of junk fish kept him out of their nets and catches. In return, the sea-farriers had an alpha predator on their side, roaming the bay. The number of shellycoat attacks on the Coraler’s fishing boats had dropped to almost nil since Finn had made the harbor his home.
Sea-lions were a far larger and rarer threat than the aquatic shell-wearing goblins. It was not at all common to see one felled by anything less than a warship. As Joe reached the start of the pier, he stopped to watch the crowd for a minute, holding the dimensional crate with his [Glorious Gauntlets]. He had gotten over his need to be alone but he still was not comfortable in large groups. With the crate and his three big ghost-hounds hovering beside him, Joe stood, working up the gumption to wade into the gathering around the Haven.
The gathering had been joined by a pair of overseers wearing coats that matched the blue of his gambeson; members of the Mariner’s League. He had only brief interactions with the largest guild in Fort Coral, far bigger than the Adventure’s Guild, City Watch, Storm Wardens, or Trader’s Union. Joe knew they were responsible for almost every aspect of the waterfront: fishing, cargo, sea-travel, dockworkers, sailors, and the like.
So far, his encounters with them had been a mixed bag. Surprisingly, getting the OK for Finn had been much easier than getting permission to anchor the Haven in the bay. Granted, he had petitioned for a permit for the ahlkut in the chaotic days just after the battle with Cauldrakon, where Finn had been seen helping the defenders fight the storm crabs. The harried official basically rubber-stamped the approval and dashed off to deal with the next thing on her massive list of issues after the epic storm-beast’s assault.
The dock official Joe had to deal with over the Haven seemed to go out of his way to find every little thing he could to deny Joe the right to harbor in the bay. Luckily the catfolk Harbormaster showed up and shooed the nit-picking underling away. Banabbi had taken a shine to him and Finn ever since the Cauldrakon storm.
Since then Joe had gone out of his way to handle all of his mariner business with the amicable jaguar-man. This was why Joe had asked Master Banabbi directly if he would spread the word around that they were looking to sell the sea-lion carcass. With the city gearing up for the celebration of its newest festival, Margen’s Day, it seemed unlikely they would hear anything for a day or so.
Much to Joe's surprise, the reply was nearly immediate.
Before Joe had worked up the resolve to face the crowd, he noted a tall man walking straight toward him across the waterfront plaza. He looked very similar to Corra Loigen, though far younger. He had the same lean muscularity as the old warrior, which made him look like a beanpole at a distance, but as he approached, it transformed into taut musculature.
It was the hair that was the giveaway, though. He had the same fan of hair, though this man’s had been styled into more of a horse-like mane rather than Corra’s wildman look. His body was similarly whiskered. Unlike the thick shag of fur that Joe had acquired on his hands and feet, the hair on the approaching individual was long and light, more of fringe than a coat.
Across his back, he bore an ornate fey bow, and on his shoulder rode an owl. The bird looked like a barn owl to Joe but its feathers were green and brown, which would make it nearly impossible to spot flying through the trees.
Joe had never assessed the old fey knight and had been curious about his race. Here he had a chance to find out what Sir Loigen’s heritage was.
Nallorakk Killarian: Fey (Bugbear): Ranger/Falconer 17
As the ranger stepped up to him, he loomed over Joe by a good seven or eight inches. He had the same feyish angularity to his cheekbones and pointed ears as the old fey knight and spoke with the same old-world cadence.
“Master Barbarrow would like to speak to you regarding your catch. Is now convenient for you?” the bugbear inquired in a formal tone. Joe got the impression Nallorakk only spoke as much as he absolutely had to.
“Sure. Let me run this,” Joe stated pointing at the crate, “down to my guys and I’ll be ready to go. One sec.”
The tall archer nodded and Joe jogged down to the Haven.
Pushing through the crowd, he flew the box over to Tezeno. “Hey. We already have a buyer for the lion carcass. What do you know about a trader named Barbarrow? I think I’ve heard that name before.”
The archon's angular eyes opened wide and Yuk chimed in in Joe’s head.
“Dorian? Dorian wants it? Deep Blu, that’s great. Do it, Joe!”
“Dorian Barbarrow is one of Fort Coral’s most successful traders, Joe,” Tez added. “He was, technically still is, a long-standing guild member. He financed the complete rebuilding of the Guild House after it was destroyed in ‘86. I can think of no one better for us to be interested in the catch.”
“Awesome. Ok. Box it up when you’re ready. I’ll be back.”
“Will do, but I do have to get going shorty,” the guardian reported. “Big day tomorrow with the festivities and all. I have to go help with the preparations in a bit.”
“All right. I’ll let you know how it goes. Yuk, you coming or staying?”
“Staying. Dorian is one of the smartest guys the guild ever had. We don’t need him interested in us, at least until Margen breaks it to the city council what we are?”
“He’s doing that? That’s great, Bud! No more hiding!”
“That’s the hope,” Yuk’s telepathic voice replied tentatively. They sounded very nervous.
“You have Myllo and Margen in your camp,” Joe noted. “Septimus may not be a fan of yours but he has been aware of you for too long to make much of a stink. Don't worry. I think this is great news.”
Joe received the impression of a mental shrug from his best friend before they prompted him with, “Go. Don’t keep Dorian waiting. Spiff up too. You look and smell like a whaler who just got off duty.”
“Good call,” he sent before adding out loud, “I’ll let you guys know how it goes.”
Throwing a wave to Hah’roo who was on the far end of the vessel talking to the crowd of sailors and spectators, Joe jogged back to the tall falconer. As he loped along the planks, he used his cleansing ring to scrub the gore off himself and switched to a nicer shirt and a vest.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The journey was a short one. Nallorakk led Joe to a very distinctive building. Situated in the trading district of Midtown was a three-story manor that was both a business and residence. When Joe had lived in the Abaaka House he had often looked down towards this stately mansion. It stood out from the rest of the trading houses as it was twice the size of many of them and far more tastefully constructed than any of its counterparts.
As they approached the main entryway, Joe noted that carved into the lintel over the door were the words ‘The Barbarrow Counting House and Brokerage’ in formal lettering. Inside the foyer, the air was perfectly cool. It wasn’t at all like stepping into a walk-in refrigerator after the sweltering heat of the street, it was more like you had never been hot outside in the first place. Joe sighed and heard the fey chuckle so slightly he would have missed it without his enhanced hearing. The owl agreed with Joe though. It hooted and puffed up, letting the cool air in through the insulation of feathers it had covering its body.
The lean archer guided Joe past a receptionist and into a large office. Seated behind the desk was a man wearing a tall top hat. As it seemed odd to be so attired indoors, Joe guessed the garment had magical properties. The desk's surface was covered with orderly piles of parchments and stacks of coins, nothing of small denominations either; everything was gold, platinum, or dragon-geld.
Again Joe was surprised to see another fey heritage race, this time Myllo’s. Dorian, and Myllo, were taller than gnomes and stockier, though both shorter and not as blocky as a dwarf. Pointed elven ears pressed up against the broad brim of his stovetop hat. The biggest difference between the two men, besides the numerous tattoos covering the trader, was the near lack of facial hair. Whereas Myllo fully embraced his massive mustache and beard, Dorian had shaved himself down to a small triangle of black hair pointing off his chin.
Between the profusion of coins, the tall hat, and the small fey-appearance, Joe could not shake the impression of an austere leprechaun looking up at him from his seat across the desk.
Dorian Barbarrow: Fey (Korrigan): Artificer/Bard/Runemonger 36
“Excellent time, Nall. I was hoping to get this wrapped up before I have to deal with all the tarradiddle for Margen’s return this afternoon. And I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance as well, Joe. Myllonell speaks very highly of you. From the sound of it, you’ll be in the evening broadsheets again for the merlion.” The man placed the sheet he was reading on top of a pile and continued speaking. “Which is why I plan to make it worth your while to settle the sale this morning. I don’t want to get into a bidding war. I need the hide and I have something you need as well.”
“Which is?” Joe asked as he settled into one of the offered leather covered chairs in front of the desk. The bugbear and his owl glided back to a wall behind Joe. It was clear that should he try anything he’d be dealing with an enemy at his back but Joe didn’t get the sense of an implied threat. Merely the familiar actions of a standard precaution.
“Myllonell said you were direct. Give me a moment and I’ll get to that. First, I want to smooth the gears here. I know you trust my kinsman in the guild, so when we are done here, you go to Myllonell and you can confirm I am a man of my word. Here is my offer; if someone offers you a better deal than we strike this morning, I’ll beat it by five percent. This way we can skip the drawn-out back and forth between parties. Fair.”
Joe realized this still likely benefited the merchant as the act of auctioning an item drove up its price. Even so, Dorian was not locking Joe into a contract. He was simply making an open-ended offer. Joe could take it or not. Between this candor and the man’s association with Myllo and the guild, Joe was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Sounds fair,” he replied simply.
“Outstanding. Now you’ve got about one and three-quarter tons of leocampus hide,” the trader grabbed a quill and dipped it into his inkwell. Joe was a bit curious how the trader was so sure of that amount. He watched as Dorian scratched a few numbers on a page that already looked like it had been used as a worksheet. “At forty-two hundred a ton, you know what I’ll go to forty-five since it appears to be in mostly excellent condition. Most hide comes in all chopped up but reports state your damage was all internal and facial. Unfortunately, I can’t give you the trophy price for the head, though.”
"Wait. How do you know all this? We just pulled into port less than an hour ago.”
“Knowledge is wealth, young man. If you know how they work, one can always lead to the other. I have eyes and ears all over this town. I pay well to be more informed than my competitors and so …” he said, his voice trailing off as he waved a hand over his head to indicate the tastefully affluent decor of the room and the manor in which it was contained.
“So seventy-eight, seventy-five, let’s round to seventy-nine. Add in another thirty-seven hundred for the ivory and alchemical harvests, and we have eleven point six, which again I’ll round up to an even twelve thousand gold. Split four ways, that’s three grand each.” The trader laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair before adding, “Or the discount price of a cutter ship.”
“I already have a ship,” Joe replied, a bit confused. For a man who claimed to be well-informed, that seemed like a large oversight.
“Yes, but not one that can take you to the north coast. To Otter Slough, for instance.”
“OK, now we have a problem. Do you have my house bugged? I only discovered that location yesterday, in the middle of the harbor with a few companions. There is no way you could know that without spying on us.”
A broad smile split the korrigan’s face. He plucked a large aqua-green dragon-geld coin off a stack next to him. “Really? No way? Wanna bet on it?”
It was such an obvious trap, Joe knew better than to be goaded into it. “Would you tell me how you know if I just asked you?”
“That’s why Myllonell likes you. You’ve got the fire to get riled but enough control not to charge straight into the dragon’s lair.” Dorian expertly flipped the coin, landing directly into Joe’s hand, giving away a one-hundred gold piece coin, just for saying the right thing. “Yes, I will explain for free. You referenced the Guild library for the name Tarkik. As I know where the evil bastard has set up his dominion. It was pretty easy to put the pieces together from there.”
“So it wasn’t me you were following, but Tarkik?
“Yup. I have an old beef with that scaly sadist. His stranglehold on the Washwanoch delta and floodplains has lasted far too long. So, as soon as I heard that a team had a reason to bring the hammer down on him, I wanted to offer my support.”
“Ah, Alright then. Sorry, I was rude,” Joe apologized. “Divination makes me jumpy. I thought I had buttoned up the Haven against it enough not to have to worry about being spied on.”
“Think nothing of it, Joe. I loathe being snooped on as well. So, back to the real matter at hand. As marvelous as your new home is, it is not suitable for long-distance travel,” Dorian declared. He steepled his fingers and grinned at Joe. “I will say your new abode and this insipid heat may have started a trend. Even as we speak, similar such oceanic residences are nearing completion at both of the shipbuilders I hold financial interests in.”
Joe had not seen any other houseboats around Fort Coral, but he assumed that was most likely because they were not practical in this stormy region of the world—at least not without the magic needed to stabilize them. Maybe no one had an engineer of Myllo’s caliber work on the problem before. Or were willing to spend more for the enchantments than you could get triple the sized house on land for.
Dorian reclaimed Joe’s attention as he continued speaking. “Now, if you want to make it around the pirate-infested waters of the Horn, you will need something fast and subtle, not flashy and ponderous. For what you have planned, I would suggest using the very sort of vessel you are hiding from. A small cutter is nimble enough to stay away from sea-raiders and shallow enough of draft to navigate the rivers at your destination.”
“A cutter?” Joe asked not being familiar with ships.
“A type of sloop; thirty to forty feet in length. They are small vessels that can offer a good compromise between speed and the ability to handle a few small cannons for firepower. They are favored by smugglers as they can easily slip up rivers and channels where larger ships cannot pursue. It may not be the most comfortable of trips as the cabin fits two adequately, with a smaller person as a possible third. Still, I have a captain for you that fits that descriptor.”
“So I would be buying this vessel …”
“At a considerable discount,” interjected the merchant.
“And the captain is part of the deal?”
“Ginjgaukk has an even bigger grudge to settle with the man you are hunting than I do. He volunteered as soon as I mentioned a guilder looking into Tarkik.”
“I’d have to ask my friends. That money is only a quarter mine.”
“I would expect no less. Given your relationship with the returning founder, you will surely be entrenched in the ceremonies tomorrow. Let me know as soon as you can afterward. Don’t dawdle too long, though. You will want to set sail soon while you have the winds in your favor. In a week or two, they will turn and you’ll be sailing against the prevailing wind instead of running before it.”
“Good to know. Is there any other information you can tell me about this guy we’re after? The library was pretty sparse with info on Tarkik. I only found his location with magic.”
“I had planned to pen a packet for you, but I’m glad you asked. Knowledge is the key to success and the fact you value it is reassuring. I’ll have Nallorakk deliver a missive with everything I can say after the festival. Good enough?”
“More than. Thanks,” Joe exclaimed, rising and shaking the small man’s hand. “Hopefully, we will have a deal with the ship too. I’ll talk to you again in a couple days.”
After the ranger led Joe back out, the enormity of this undertaking struck him. He was leaving Fort Coral and there was so much to know and do before he left. Just the fact Joe had not considered how unsuited the Haven was for this journey highlighted just how unprepared he was for it.
Still, he had made a promise. The curse had to be removed. Joe was not going to let this chance to help the ahlkut pack pass him by.