A Tunnels and Trolls® play-by-post adventure run by khara_khang
"Mighty fine choice, Jamara. It's a most excellent weapon. As Cobalt said, time is very important and Agamar Blimystone, the Sea Sprite's friendly captain, is not a good-natured man, er, uhmm, Dwarf. All of you'd better be on your way," says the Dwarf, smiling as if he knows something you don't.
Saying your goodbyes and packing your newly acquired items away, the four of you exit Toad's supply store, head out into the bustling Khazani street and are quickly lost in the flow of people. The Hobbit rides happily on Chereva the Centaur’s back (keeping his nimble hands from roaming too high as he holds on). Ten minutes at most (much faster without the Hobbit walking) takes you from the Tavern District a quarter the way across town to the infamous Dock Ward and the wide Khazani River which snakes its way through the huge city, which now boasts a population of more than one million inhabitants. Many of the low-lifes can be found in or around the Dock Ward.
As you make your way along the docks, you see hundreds of ships as far as you can see in either direction. Since it is still morning, most of the sailors, dock hands, day laborers, part time workers, merchants, teamsters, and many crafters are busy fixing things, loading, or unloading supplies to be shipped or delivered somewhere. Most ignore you as you walk by, while others make whooping cat-calls, and some just stare with their mouths open until you pass.
At least as much time as it took to cross town is wasted searching for the Sea Sprite. Eventually you locate the well-aged light galley sitting along the docks. The landing plank is out and the crew of three humans are carrying supplies on board while a Dwarf shouts orders at them. Something to the effect of "Move yer lazy arses!"
Everyone pauses for a moment as you approach.
"Ah, the hookers and the pimp are here!"
"Dibs on the pimp!"
"Har, har, har, har!"
"I've been called many things, but never a pimp," the Hobbit smiles as only a Hobbit can.
"Shut yer stupid pie holes, and get back to work." Agamar looks at the players. "Where the hell have you been? We have schedules, you know! Come aboard and quit wasting my time!" He grumbles and mumbles in Dwarvish.
Jamara glares at Sailor #1, taking her hammer in hand as she walks towards him. "No one calls me a hooker." She snarls as she advances on him. "NO ONE!"
Chereva shakes off the jeers of the crewmen like water on a purple duck's back. "Men are so predictable," she sighs inwardly. She interrupts the burliest one's breast-trance with a gentle nudge of the business end of her oxtongue and looks him straight in the eye, then slowly examines him like the sorry piece of meat he is. The knotty sailor puffs up with the well-endowed Centaur's attention, but Chereva soon huffs, abruptly sending a flicker of insecurity across the man's features.
Withdrawing her spear, Chereva breaks the silence as the other agape crewmen await her appraisal of their comrade, "Dearie, it would most certainly kill you, and I'm sure your good captain values your able services more than he would your dead weight as ballast. And I wouldn't go calling us hookers," she addresses Sailor #1 before Jamara plows into him, "I'm sure she, for one, has gutted worthier sacks of fewmets for less!" She winks at the tense Warrioress, hoping to defuse her wrath.
Clopping past the sailors as they rib each other, she calls after the Dwarf, "G'morrow Cap'n, and well met! Where's our lucky Goblin charge?"
"Yeah! You tell'em Chereva," I say (from Chereva's back) in my best non-squeaky voice as only a true Hobbit can.
The sailor looks from Jamara to Chereva. "I'm sorry miss, I, I, I, was just kidding... really, I was," the unarmed sailor backs away continuing with his duties, trying to avoid any eye contact with Jamara or Chereva.
The other sailors quickly return to work, loading the last of the supplies as all of you come aboard.
"Sorry ladies and Hobbit. You'll have to excuse my sailors. They're a bunch of idiots for the most part, but they do know their sh**. This is not a picnic and I'm not anyone's father. If you injure one of my sailors beyond that which will allow them to work, then you take his spot. The Khazani River is a harsh mistress and quite unforgiving, remember that. As long as you are on my boat you are under my command. I will not feed you and you will sleep wherever you can find an open spot. The Goblin lady is locked in her room." Agamar points to the door. "I suspect she should remain locked in there until we set sail." He moves off, grumbling and mumbling in Dwarvish.
After the sailors finish loading the supplies, the landing plank is drawn in. The mooring ropes are unfastened. The ship is poled away from the dock. As the sails are raised, the light galley slowly leaves the docks, heading up the wide Khazani River at a very slow pace. All of you stand watching and waiting as dozens of other ships of all sizes pass by. All the while Agamar is steering the ship and shouting out commands to his crew like, "Harness that jib!", or "Tighten the everloft!", or "Get the slack out of the forearms!"
The Hobbit climbs off Chereva's back and finds one of the cargo crates, upon which he sits and crosses his legs. "So, who wants to play a game of cards?" asks the Hobbit, taking out a deck from his jacket pocket.
Blodwydd perks up at the Hobbit's offer. Dumping her pack, she drags a crate to face the one on which the Hobbit is seated, and inquires, "Whatcher stakes?"
"Anyone can play," I say, looking to the others. "We are using Hobbit rules, of course, Blodwydd." I smile charmingly when Blodwydd offers to join in. After shuffling the cards, I deal both of us a hand. After I discard one card and Blodwydd discards three, we show our cards. Blodwydd has 2 kings, 2 jacks, and a four. I have 4 aces and a king.
Again I smile widely. "By Hobbit rules, you must pay up, Blodwydd. You lost. Hobbit rules state if you lose, you must kiss the Hobbit." I flex my lips getting them ready for Blodwydd as only a true card-cheating Hobbit can.
Blodwydd grins wolfishly, grabs Shipy by the ears, and plants a big juicy kiss on him, with lots of tongue. Shipy is pretty sure that Blodwydd's most recent meal included garlic sausage in rancid butter.
As Shipy recovers from the kiss, Blodwydd scoops up the cards and riffle shuffles them inexpertly. "Ah lyk this game!" she declares enthusiastically. "Let's play agin!"
I gasp for air, stunned at Blodwydd's boldness. With Blodwydd holding the deck, I can't cheat, and I am sure Blodwydd will notice the 7 aces in the deck, but she doesn't. Blodwydd just keeps on dealing and winning.
Within 30 minutes, Blodwydd has won my 3 gold, 6 silver, 11 copper, my lucky wooden coin (with a naked mermaid on it), my rabbit's foot, my used gum, even my sketched picture of Lamia dancing naked in the forest. Blodwydd had taken me for everything I have, even my shorts (although I refuse to give them up as of yet). Even with Hobbit rules, I can't win with Blodwydd dealing.
"'Tis it, Blodwydd, I's have nothing left," I shrug my shoulders, beaten at my own game.
"I'm sorry miss, I, I, I, was just kidding... really, I was."
Jamara stops just short of the snivelling twit, lowering her hammer. "Okay, this time," she says, staring at him coldly. "But this time only. Mouth off again and all the forces of hell won't save your bones from cracking."
"So, who wants to play a game of cards?"
Jamara snorts and heads for the goblin wench's room, leaning against the wall next to the door as she keeps an eye out for trouble.
"Comuppa lil short, didja Hobbit?" chuckles Blodwydd, flush with the pleasure of gambling and her own unaccustomed success at it. "Here ya go," she adds, chomping noisily at the gum, and handing Shipy back his rabbit's foot and lucky coin. "This din doo much goodfa ya, doan think they workfa me neither."
"Ah think yoo shud be mu lucky charm!" she adds, fondly rumpling the Hobbit's hair.
After making sure the negotiable coinage is safely tucked away within her leathers, Blodwydd turns to wave with a friendly smirk at the sailors busy about their tasks of splicing this and hoisting that. "Hey fellas! Yoo luk like art fancy-yours tah me! Whut am ah bid fur this sooper-dooper drawering?"
Chereva shakes her head at Shipy. "Hobbits will be Hobbits," she chortles, then almost slips on the well-worn planks of the galley. "Fewmets, now I remember why I hate sailing!" Placing her hooves carefully, she makes her way toward Freaketa's cabin. Jamara is standing guard outside.
"What say we see what all the fuss is about?" she smiles mischievously, then proceeds to unbolt the lock to the cabin. "Room service," she calls, opening the door.
The City of Khazan becomes a distant speck on the horizon as the Sea Sprite heads up stream. Other than the few trees along the river, open plains spread out as far as the eye can see in any direction. They are flat wide open grasslands, and the belt-high green grass waves in the wind.
As the cabin door is unbolted and Chereva enters first, a thrown chamber pot is hurled across the room and shatters against the wall, inches from Chereva's head, which gets splattered with malodorous liquid. Jamara and Blodwydd stand outside looking into the small 8 by 10 foot windowless room (unless you state you are entering). Inside the small cabin, you see a very solidly built and tough looking female Goblin about the same size as the Hobbit, only much stronger. She looks up at you very angrily as putrid liquid drips from Chereva's hair. Shipy enters, looking from Chereva to Freaketa.
"You can't keep me here! I'm not your slave to be given away!" Goblin Princess Freaketa continues, ranting and speaking in Goblin tongue, "Fainu nai mailenna raikatyarolmain avanta meno ilyaurea mastalma aiya earendil elenion ancalima!"
"I think she said your hair smells like fresh blooming jasmine on a summer afternoon, if I understood her correctly, Chereva," I say with a slight smirk, choosing not to translate the swear words, some of which were no doubt impossible to perform, at least not without two Orcish brothers and a mule.
"Yeah, and I'm an Orc brother in an alternative universe! Look, here, miss," Chereva spits, wiping the Goblin piss off her face, and pointing her oxtongue at the Goblin. "We were told we are to be your escort and that you're to be the Goblin King's bride. Cobalt said nothing about slave-driving! Now calm down, girl, and tell us your side of the story!"
From the doorway, Jamara stares at Chevera for a moment, then turns her attention to the Goblin lass. "Nice shot. Better tell us what are you babbling about before we make you clean up the mess with your tongue!"
Dark storm clouds brew far to the north as your light galley continues upstream. Its once slow pace now has increased considerably with the gathering winds. Still sometime before noon, all of you suspect you should sail a great distance today.
The Goblin princess looks at all the newcomers and calms herself a little. "Well... it is slave driving. Do you see the putrid accommodations I have to put up with! This place is downright disgusting. I am a princess, you know!"
"You are not a princess!"
"Am too!"
"Are not!"
"Am too!"
"No way!"
"Uh huh!.... I don't like Hobbits either. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown that chamber pot at cha'," Feaketa smiles innocently. Looking at Jamara, she says, "Before I left Khazan, I was told by a Wood Elf that I would not reach King Snorkin alive. A few minutes ago, I found this note on my table beside my bed."
Since Chereva is standing the closest, Feaketa hands the paper to her.
"Ooo, lemmeesee lemmeesee!" cries Blodwydd excitedly, crowding up next to Chereva and peering at the piece of paper with the confusing marks on it. "Whasiss say?"
Beaming over at the Goblin girl, she pats her sword hilt reassuringly and adds, "Doan worry prinsuss! If enyone trysta mess whichoo, will kikis ass!"
Listening to Blodwydd speak, I say, "You said we were going to 'kiss' what? There are limits to even things I will do!" I smile at Blodwydd as only a true Hobbit can.
"Funny" remarks Blodwydd, smirking back at the Hobbit, "Yah shur seemta like kissin erleer."
"Mebbe yuh kin try sum Hobbit rulz wither..." she adds, with a wink toward the Hobbit and a nod toward the princess.
I slap one hand over my face as Blodwydd causes it to turn a light shade of red. I shake my head "no" but remain silent.
Ignoring the Hobbit's banter, and holding Freaketa's note with her free hand, Chereva reads it grimly: "It says, 'If you are still on board by dark, you die.'"
Clopping closer to the Goblin, Chereva adds, "Blodwydd's right, we're here to see you to the Goblin King safely. Anybody who tries to take you out will have to take us out first!" Chereva cracks a few knuckles and paws at the floorboards with a front hoof. "Ahh, it will be good to knock a few heads. Been a while, you know."
She turns her (very) human torso to look at her teammates, then twists back to Freaketa. "By the way, I'm Chereva, this is Blodwydd and that's Jamara. Oh, and this is Shipy, our party leader," she pries him from between her front legs with the butt of her oxtongue and pushes him forward toward the Goblin. "Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances," she wrings some foul liquid from her flowing mane and sighs. "Mind if I use your washbowl to clean up?"
Walking across the room to the spartan desk with the wooden bowl and water pitcher, Chereva calls enticingly, "Shipy, dear, a word with you?" Once the Hobbit is near, she inquires discreetly, "What's this about her not being a princess?"
Standing with my small Hobbit arms crossed, I listen to Chereva as she speaks, trying to keep my eyes off her two most interesting physical qualities, and moving only when she pushes me out of the way with the butt of her oxtongue toward the Goblin.
Raising one eyebrow, I approach Chereva's enticing call. "The so-called princess has a Khazanti dockward Goblin drawl, which means she was raised near the docks. Only the lowest of the low come from there. And yes, I lived there for a while, so I know. You don't see too many princesses living there, you know."
"Humph! Well, just leave me alone so I can relax in peace." The very solidly built Goblin goes over and sits on her bed, apparently in deep thought for a moment. "What? You want'a draw a picture or something? I'm dismissing you!" she adds, noticing everyone standing around looking at her.
Dark storm clouds continue to rumble in the distance as your light galley continues up stream into the afternoon and then evening. Its sails whip wildly in the strong wind. The sky grows dark and the open grasslands on the west side of the river are replaced with a thick hard wood forest as far as the eye can see. A light rain begins falling as the sky rumbles with thunder; lightning can be see far off in the distance.
Currently Chereva has the "death threat note"---do you keep it? Tell me where everyone is staying as the darkness approaches and the rain begins to fall. Your choices are:
The Captain and crew quarters are at the forward end of the ship and are off limits (even the door is locked).
Jamara steps into the room the rest of the way, looking at Freaketa intently. "Princess or no, someone want you dead. You strong girl. You have a strong spirit." Jamara takes the club out of her belt, tossing it casually on the bed next to where Freaketa sits. "For you. Not much, but better than nothing." She turns abruptly and leaves, standing next to the door to watch.
Blodwydd follows Jamara out of the small cabin, and collects her pack and bedroll from where they were left on the deck earlier. Returning to the cabin door, where Jamara is now standing watch, Blodwydd gestures at the door to the hold.
"Ahm gonna go blow, get sum rest. Awl take secund watch...", she says, and with a nod opens the door and begins to clatter her way down the stairs.
Chereva, appreciative of his street knowledge, nods at Shipy and pats him on the head. As she twists to put the death threat in a saddle bag, Shipy hits the deck, unconscious, and with a dazed smile on his face. The Centaur bends over and picks up the Hobbit, then turns and nestles him down between the saddlebags on her back. "Like most men," she says, shivering her lengthy mane, "he's harmless."
As she rinses off her hair in Freaketa's washbowl, she speaks in her most persuasive fem-to-fem tone, "Your highness---should I call you that?---I think one of us should stay in the room with you tonight, given the gravity of that threat. Only if you want me to stay, that is. Jamara is outside, and from the sound of it, Blodwydd is making her way into the hold. But no one would be here to help you from inside if trouble occurs." She smiles her best smile, trying not to think of the condition in which she'd find her hair in the morrow.
Jamara nods in acknowledgement. "Go sleep. Tell small one to get rid of rabbit's foot. Not be lucky for rabbit, so why be lucky for him?"
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This page updated: Mon Jan 09 14:22:15 2006
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