Porthca Landing I: Memory of the Sea

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First Day

Abrahms

One Thousand Club
Porthca Landing I: Memory of the Sea

The sun is working its way over the horizon, a strong breeze blowing across the land bringing the smell of the sea and all its pleasantries. Well, some people still don't care for the smell, but are willing to put up with it when it comes to making money. Porthca rests in the northwest coast of Okesh, within a smaller region known as the Sinking Plains -- referred to as such because it seems every rainy season, more and more of the land disappears.

Sounds of the docks can be heard throughout the city, at all hours. Newcomers are easily spotted, a grimace of annoyance on their faces from the noise -- locals tuned it out years ago, the only noises usually catching their attention being the belltower in the market plaza, only rung in emergencies or during festivals.

Approaching Porthca from the land, the city slopes down towards sea level, giving all visitors a sweeping view of what it has to offer. Scores of ships varying in size line the docks, people mere specks at this distance, but busy at work all the same. Following the main route are larger more ornate buildings, some appearing to be manors, a few with crests on their fronts, while on the outskirts seem to be smaller homes.

Porthca is never truly quiet, but for those who have been before, there's a strange ... hush -- as much as can be managed here. Rumours of the various murders have spread, different groups offering different gossip and theories of their own.

ANDER:

Coasting into the docks among one of the smaller boats, you step off into a large crowd, pushed and shoved, but hardly anyone manages to actually make you budge at your size and the weight of your gear. Looking somewhat lost in the throng, you feel a tap on your hip, encouraging you to look down, seeing a halfling woman, her skin tanned from the sun. "Ya look lost, m'boy. Awful tall to be so lost -- see over near everythin' yeah? Kin I help somehow? Get'cha off the docks and out th' way yeah?"

VIRRA:

Wandering around Porthca is kind of intense, especially for someone as small as yourself, but with your abilities you generally manage to get out of the way before someone steps on you. You think you maybe managed to get yourself to the right place, to try and offer help for the investigation going on in Porthca, but before you get too far, an ornate carriage nearly runs you over, bearing a crest you don't recognize, but the crowd nearby seems to mumble and mutter amongst themselves as it stops.

BENITO:


It's been awhile since you returned to Porthca ... if only you'd returned for a better reason. Still, your time away gave you many skills you didn't have before, met a few interesting people, hopefully gave some time for rumours to die down. Your carriage has been carrying you back home for your brother's funeral, supposedly another victim of the serial killer working through Porthca ... or at least, it would be carrying you home, had it not suddenly jerked to a stop. You can't possibly have arrived at the Manor yet, right? Did something happen?

ELIZA:

Your poor feet are so tired ... you didn't realize Porthca was this far away! At least it gave you lots of time to practice spells on the way, without too much of concern if something got out of hand. Finally you've reached the outskirts of Porthca itself, the city sloped down away from you, the sea across the horizon, making up most of your view. The strong winds up here attempt to push you, but leaning on your staff you still manage to hold your own before begining the descent into Porthca proper. Benito showed you his family crest at one point when he offered to pay for some components ... wasn't there a carriage that passed you with the same crest just now?

TYRIUS:

Ah ... Porthca! A place where much of your family's goods went and returned as glorious gold. There was a family here that was the main exporter for your own, quite the deal when it was originally struck generations ago. You'd actually met one of them at Azarad, funnily enough. Your thoughts are disrupted as you hear a slight exclamation from behind you, the crowd turning and murmering, snorting and hooves stomping on the cobblestones ... hey, doesn't that crest look familiar? It couldn't be ... such a small world, isn't it?

WINSTON:

Oh man, so many people here. So many people who could probably use a self-writing quill! If only Porthca was closer and the magic hadn't faded... whatever. You'd been following a really fancy carriage the past few days, seemed like it was in a hurry, but they usually stayed the night somewhere and that was how you kept up. Posh people always need posh beds, but you were used to rougher. Working your way through the crowds, you'd been following it, losing sight sometimes, but as flashy as it was, generally found it again. Seems like it stopped -- was that ... a gnome it almost ran over?
 
Benito was a young man, only twenty-four and recently a graduate of Azarad. He carried himself with an air of importance, and wore a jet black tunic which matched his hair along with a velvet vest with gold embroidery around the shoulders in an intricate design. His pants were a tight brass studded leather, the studs neatly polished, and his boots of high quality with several polished brass buckles, a thick sole and a heel that made the six-foot-two man about an inch taller. His fair skin was a stark contrast to his dark garb which drew attention to his clean shaven face and piercing green eyes. Next to him on the seat laid a studded leather jacket which matched his pants along with two quivers full of arrows, and a pair of scimitars in an unusual sheath. A long bow sat propped up against one wall of the carriage, the string hanging from only the top of the bow was recently waxed and glistened slightly in the light that peaked in through the curtains. He sat with one leg propped on the other and book opened in the crook as he read. The sudden stop of the carriage jolted the book out of place, landing on the floor of the carriage closed.

Benito sighs and smacks a hand against the carriage wall, "Some warning next time!?" Not one to shy away from things, Benito stood, strapping his belt on and with it the two swords and a quiver of arrows. He then pushed open the carriage door, rounding the side of the carriage to speak with the coachman. "What the hell happened?" He asked as he approached, looking around to see why they'd stopped.
 
Ander is a tall man with dark hair and a long beard. He wears drab clothing, though he has a large sun-shaped holy symbol on a chain around his neck. He is carrying a pack that seems to be about ready to burst along with a sword the size of a fully grown elf.

Ander squats down to lower himself to the halfling woman's level. "Hello, little friend. Thank you for your kindness." His face contorts for a moment, but a smile quickly follows. "It's been a while, and my accent is terrible," he chuckles to himself, "I have heard tell of some troubles in the city, and was hoping to offer my services. Do you know where I might find the city guard, or whomever might be looking onto a string of slayings?"

His hand reaches for the symbol around his neck as he thinks back to his home, and a hint of anger comes to his eyes, but only for a moment.
 
Eliza limped up the side of the road and took in the sprawling sight of Porthca below. She took a moment to lean on her staff and to gather herself before setting off again. The throbbing in her feet had become almost unbearable but she decided to focus on one thing at a time.

She took out her wand from its side holster and waved it over her head showering her clothes with a faint shimmer ironing out the wrinkles removing the caked up mud. It didn't compensate for a hot shower and new clothes but at least she felt more presentable now for meeting her old friend.

Speaking of which, she saw a coach hurtling by and she was sure it had Benito's family crest on it. She started to follow the coach hoping the travelers could at least point her towards Benito's location.

After following it through the streets a while she saw it come to a sudden stop and quickened her step towards it when she saw its door open and a figure come out. Not quite believing her luck, Eliza found herself calling out, "Oh, Benito! I can't believe I finally found you!"
 
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Porthca Docks:

The halfling woman laughed hearing the man attempting to speak. "Ah, yeah, troubles abound here. Got lazy workers, merchants think they own the place -- never stops, ya ken? But aye, comes to th' killlin's you interested in? Don't look much like a watchman -- look more like a watchtower!" She small woman laughed again, clearly amused at her joke. Eventually her chuckled faded, "Eh ... anyway. Somewhere round here usually some guards, if they ain't busy takin' bribes that is. Look for th' shiny helmets -- sure don't do the job, but seem awful keen to polish their armor!"
 
Normally Virra would have revelled in all of this bustle. threading her way through the packed streets in search of the centre of town. She loved crowds, and she especially loved how they reacted to her, a young dark-skinned gnome of unusual height. She'd got much fewer curious glances than normal, though; Porthca clearly attracted all sorts. If she hadn't been on business for the first time in years she would have had time to appreciate it all. Still, she took the most scenic route she could, sniffing the sea breeze and listening out for any dialects she recognises. And it's a good thing she did, or else she might not have heard the carriage bearing down on her.

By the time she whirls around, the speeding vehicle is looming large above her. "Woah, hey!" she cries out, diving to one side and avoiding the carriage's wheels by a matter of inches. A quick tumble in the gutter and she's on her feet again, shaking dirt from her already thin traveler's clothes as the carriage slows to a stop. A quick glance around brings a smile back to her face; a number of rubberneckers have stopped to watch the show. Well, it would be rude not to give them one.

"Oh, ooh, ow," she winces, affecting a limp as she moves up to the head of the carriage. Just before she arrives she catches sight of the owner, and the fine clothes he wears. Got to be a noble. And quite an rich one, if his carriage is any clue. Of course, that means a lot more risk if her game goes wrong. She shifts her gaze from the man's swords to his face, and puts on a long-suffering smile. "I'm so sorry to disrupt your journey, sir, but your coachman here almost murdered me. Ahhh," she hisses, rubbing her leg and cringing. "You'll... you'll put this right, won't you, sir? Only I just arrived here for work, and if I can't send my wages back home to my family, they'll -"

Then Virra breaks off, glancing towards a half-orc woman who's approaching the carriage in a hurry. A half-orc woman with red hair, a slight stoop, and a decidedly non-orcish demeanour. Virra blinks. What are the odds of this...?
 
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"If the guard 'round the docks are that bad, maybe I otta head in to town, hopefully there'll be more helpful folks there." Ander returns to his full height and bumps fists with the small woman. "Thanks again, friend."

He politely makes his way through the crowd on the docks until he reaches dry land. Surveying the scene, he realises that this city is bigger than the entire island where he had grown up. "Huh, well I'd better get to lookin' around," and he took off toward the center of town.
 
Walking the cobbled streets, taking in the sounds echoing from the docks, Tyrius ran a pale hand through his red hair. The twenty seven year old had come for personal reasons. Rumours had reached Wyford of a series of deaths. One of the victims coming from the noble family whose name Tyrius recognised from his time at Azarad and knew came from Porthca. Figuring that he should pay his respects, Tyrius had decided to head for Porthca.

Hearing the sudden disruptions of the crowd, Tyrius turned and saw a familiar looking crest on the side of a carriage. It reminded him of a fellow graduate of Azarad that Tyrius had met during his studies there. Smiling at the coincidence of finding an old school friend in town, Tyrius walked at a brisk pace following the carriage. ‘Hope Benito is ready for an impromptu reunion.’ Tyrius thought to himself.
 
James turned to Benito, "Sorry sir, we were in such a hurry I almost ran over that poor gnome." James pointed cautiously, "She's coming this way, sir."

Benito sighed, "You know James, typically it's faster to get places when you don't have to stop to apologize for almost running people over. Porthca is a busy city. We can move slower so we can get places faster." He turned around with a smile just in time to see the gnome limping over.

He waited a moment for the small one to approach, "My apologies." His lips curled into something between a smile and sneer as the gnome tried to twist the truth. "My coachman, James, was in quite the hurry to get me to my brother's funeral. I hope you can understand the urgency with which we travel. However, I don't believe you were almost murdered." His hand reached for one of his scimitars and he began to draw it before thinking better of it. "Accidents happen." His sneer faded back into a smile as he saw Eliza approaching, "Why don't you take a seat in my carriage, friend, and I'll see that your injuries are not a problem."

Walking past the gnome without a second though, he approached Eliza, giving her a hug. "Lizy! Wonderful to see you. I hope things have been better for you than they have for me. News of my brother's death, rushing home for a funeral, and now almost running over a gnome, who was no doubt not paying attention - carriages are far to loud to sneak up on people." He let her go. "How have your studies been? Did you ever master that spell - the one to summon a rat or weasel or whatever? What'd you get?!" Benito seemed quite excited to be seeing an old friend, he didn't have many and those he had he didn't expect to ever see in Porthca. Looking her over, he noted her frayed and worn shoes. "Oh dear, look at those dreadful binding. Please, make yourself comfortable in my carriage, and we'll get you a new pair of shoes." He smiled swinging his arm to direct her toward the carriage where he had forgotten he'd also just sent the gnome.
 
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Porthca Docks

Idly waving a hand as you leave the halfling woman turns back to her work, tracked by where the crowd shifted around her, her voice ringing out as someone began unloading a ship that wasn't supposed to be without proper forms...!

Moving further into the city, the shape of it almost acts as a funnel for the noise of the harbor, you almost feel like you're still in it. Unfamiliar with the area, bumped into by various people -- some of whom begin to turn around and make a comment, only to realize how tall you are and quickly run off instead -- it takes you awhile to actually find any of the guards. Using the woman's word as a guide however, you do, after about ten minutes of wandering, manage to find a pair of people off to the side who look ... surprisingly shiny. Looks like two men chatting as they watch the crowds go, one of which seems human, the other looks to be a tiefling, a cutout around his helmet for the horns as they wrap around behind his head.
 
"Hello gentlemen, I've just gotten off the boat from Lokil, and I had heard there were some, lets just say 'disturbances' goin' on around town. I'm wondering iffin' ya'll could point me to your captain, and maybe I could offer 'em my assistance." Ander remains calm and casual with the guards, having spent most of his life working around guards at the temple.
 
Harbor Area

Conversation between the two men drops off as they see Ander approach, both easily much shorter, even with the tiefling being a little taller than the human as he stood on cloven feet.

The tiefling smiled, sharper teeth visible, "Can definitely tell from that accent, eh Lerian?"

Lerian nodded, "Don't get many from Lokil, let alone those that want to help the guards of Porthca." He looks over Ander for a moment, "Assist ... how? If you've heard about the disturbances, you must know we've not really had much to go on as it is."
 
Ander's calm and happy demeanor shifts as he furrows his brow. He does not like to be talked down to. "Hmm, I see you two ain't got a clue what your doin', so I'll move along and pray no one else gets murdered on your watch." He raises his voice enough for anyone passing by to hear him.

As he turns his back on the guards, he grabs Dawnbreaker from the sword's attachment on his pack and puts the sheath over his shoulder. He looks around for the nearest place where he can eat before he continues his search for someone helpful.
 
Eliza's staff went tumbling down as she enveloped Benito in a hug. "It has been too long, I am so sorry about your brother. I didn't know Ben, how are you feeling? No, don't answer that was a silly question. Please tell me if I could be of any help."
 
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Hearing the noble's initial reaction, Virra half-smiles and resigns herself to dropping the act; it wasn't her most unique to begin with, and pantomiming a limp feels like it'll quickly grow boring. But then three things happen in quick succession to alarm her. First, a mention of a certain "brother's funeral", then that half-drawing of his sword, and finally an invitation to ride with him in his carriage. Virra's mind changes like a chameleon's hue.

As the noble walks past she sketches a curtsey, wobbling on what she decides is her injured leg. "Oh, that's so sweet of you, sir, but I don't want to impose - I'll only stay until I start to feel better. Gosh, I hope I start to feel better..." No harm in playing the dumb commoner for a while longer, she reasons. Even if the noble's seen through it, it hardly matters if he thinks she's just some cheap con artist. Play-acting is always fun, and it serves her needs for now.

Virra helps herself up into the carriage, pausing at the door to watch as the noble embraces the familiar half-orc. Curioser and curioser. Hiding her grin, she turns and finds a seat, crossing her legs on the cushion like she's about to begin a prayer. After a good look around at the interior, she snatches up a fallen book and begins to flick through it while waiting for her host to return.

Your move, Suspect Number One.
 
Benito bent down to collect her staff and offered it to her, "I'm alright. I could use some friendly company and any excuse to take a detour before dealing with my parents. So, why don't you let me take you to a cobbler, and while we're on the way you can tell me what brings you to Porthca." Ben's smile was warm and disarming, as though no time had past since he last saw Eliza; he always was really pleasant to his friends despite how abrasive he might seem on the surface.

Leading Eliza back to the carriage, he rounds the door and sees Virra. "Oh." He comments dryly, before helping Eliza into the carriage. Climbing in himself, he shuts the door. He sighs, running a hand through his hair and straightening his tunic before extending a hand toward the gnome, "I'm Benito De'Porthca, and you can drop the act. This carriage is far too cheap for me not to have felt it if we had hit you." He moved through the now somewhat cramped interior, moving his jacket, quiver, and longbow out of the way before taking a seat next to Virra who had taken his own. "This is my friend Eliza. We went to school together." He lifts his chin and pulls the lapel of his vest up to expose his family brooch and his graduation pin. "We intend on heading to the cobbler, will you be joining us or do I need to pay you off and let you out a block or so away? Does a gold keep your 'family' fed for a week?"
 
Eliza took the staff shifting her weight off her foot with a grimace and followed Benito into his carriage. Oh, you’re being far too generous, Ben, I can’t possibly accept. I did come to see you but that can all wait for now. Let’s focus on you, how’s life been like after graduation, have you been busy?”

She sat in the offered empty seat folding her hands on her lap while keeping an eye on the strange gnome before smiling kindly and speaking in fluent Gnomish. Hello, what’s your name? Do you live in this city? I hope your leg isn’t bothering you too bad, I know how much it can hurt from experience.
 
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Harbor Area

With your parting words the two guards flash irritated looks, the crowd around turning to look at the small commotion.

Eventually a sign catches your eye -- at first because ... you're not entirely sure what to make of it. It looks like a sleeping Kraken? Approaching the sign close enough to read it states TUCKERED KRAKEN CABIN. Entering the structure this is obviously a place the dock workers hang out -- most patrons have plenty of tattoos visible, or wear small strips of cloth marking out their respective ships, matching the colors each ship flies, and family ties within Porthca. Conversation is rough, occasional cheers or arguments as card games are won and lost, a few sea shanties can be heard over the din.

Behind the bar stands a middle-aged human, curly brown hair, some muscle on his arms as he cleans off the bartop from the latest spilled drink, a grimace on his face. His shirt a faded yellow, belt a dark red holding up brown leggings -- a few servers, mostly human as well, work their way around the floor of the tavern, delivering drinks and food alike.

The bar itself has a few open seats, most patrons seem to favor the tables -- sitting with crew mates or fellow cardplayers.
 
Virra looks between the two other passengers, half tempted to keep up the game to see how long she can string Eliza along. Then having gained Benito's permission to drop it, she lets out an unashamed giggle. "Hey, I never said I got hit. Maybe I injured myself jumping out of the way! You don't know." She lays the open book in her lap and takes Benito's hand without reservation. "I'm Virra Hopalong Nickeltooth, and I'm charmed to make your acquaintance."

Then she releases her grip and grabs Eliza's hand instead, leaning forwards to continue the conversation in Gnomish. "And as you might be guessing, it's not that much of a bother. More importantly, congratulations on your graduation. All while I never even knew you left Chilldrift," she adds with an impish grin.
 
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Eliza shook Virra's hand hesitantly before quickly letting go. "It's a long story but I grew up in Chilldrift, and thank you but I still have a few years left before graduating. I am just taking a break for the foreseeable future."
 
Ben nods, "Well this is much more pleasant than expected. Please, call me Ben." He smiled as the two converse in Gnomish, shaking his head until Eliza spoke up. "Sorry, Chilldrift?" Benito looks back and forth confused. "Do you two know each other?" As Eliza brought up her delayed graduation, Benito frowned. "You should have graduated with the rest of the class, I'm sorry circumstance has gotten in the way of that. You may not want me to cover your schooling, but I am getting you new shoes."
 
"Nope," Virra says with some finality, then shrugs lightly. "Well, kind of. I do come from Chilldrift, and everyone there knows about the half-orc." She puts some deliberate stress on the term and lowers her voice, like she's telling a scary story. "Kind of makes you stand out when everyone else is a gnome or a dwarf, right? I actually always wanted to meet her, but we never got the chance to talk. Until now, obviously," she finishes and rocks back, still sitting cross-legged on her seat and apparently comfortable with that.

At the comment about Eliza's shoes she perks up again. "What, can't you just magic up a new pair of shoes? Or fix the old ones?" Virra seems genuinely confused by the idea. "You guys do know magic, right? Please don't tell me you just leave stuff like this lying around to look smart," she adds, hefting the book.
 
"Really, it is too much but I know from experience how stubborn you can be," Eliza said exasperated but still grinning.

She rested her eyes a moment after hearing Virra speak. Sighing she looked over at Benito, "Yeap, I am the famous half-orc. Anyway, I have yet to learn mending. Not finishing your schooling gives you a rather limited spell list."

Slightly intrigued she grabbed the book from Virra and started thumbing through it, "What are you reading anyway?"
 
Tukered Krakken Cabin

Ander sits down at the bar, looking around at all of the people around. He finds himself longing to return to the simple little village he knew, away from these idiots and blowhards. He centered himself with a prayer before looking up to see the bartender staring at him impatiently.

"Oh, dang, sorry to keep ya waitin'. I'll have whatever the special is to eat, and whatever you've got on tap." His cheeks go a bit red, though it is obscured by his long beard.

'I don't like the looks of some a these folks. Try not to get on anyone's bad side, unless you need to,' he thought to himself. He stayed at his stool with his pack on the ground beside him, but his sword still slung over his shoulder.
 
Benito grins, "Practical Applications of Limited Arcane Talent for Initiates and Children." He lets out a laugh, "Five years at Azarad and I learned one spell and a pair of tricks. They gave me a graduate's pin and waved me on my way. I had to beg Professor Orin to let me stick around for some extra training." He leaned back, finally getting comfortable in the carriage, "Draconic was easy enough to learn since my father made me learn Dwarven for the family business."

"Import, export, before you ask. We own a number of vessels and warehouses here in the city along the docks as well as stables, horses, and stock houses more inland. If you've got goods moving through Porthca, there's a decent chance my family makes money off of it." He doesn't seem to keen on his family business as he mentions it, though it obviously affords him a level of luxury and convenience in the area that might make less privileged people uncomfortable.

"Anyway," he continued, "languages aren't too bad, but magic was never my forte so I struggled through, and here we are. But no, mending is beyond my skill set as well. I have an even better magic, the locals, call it coin." He winks at the gnome, then almost as if he hadn't brought it his family up at all, he was off on a tangent, "Wish I had known I befriended a famous half-orc Lizy, think about the stories I could have told in all the bars around Azarad." He chuckled.
 
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