Games We Play

(The following journal is from the viewpoint of Foley, a halfling thief, some years later.)

It took us almost to nightfall to reach the small island. Melisana was no help, but only Sully expected her to row. Such a styleless thing never crossed my mind. She was worth more undamaged, besides.

At one end of the island we saw smoke but because of our recent encounters with creatures standing upright and wearing clothes and carrying weapons, we decided we would not go into the surprised and waiting arms of potential pirates.

Instead we plowed right into the island, narrowly missing one of those things of sharp rock right under the water. Dane may be an annoying bowman, but he makes for a decent navigator.

After dragging up the boat, we set up camp and debated how to proceed. Proceeding meant looking in the chests, which meant seeing if they were locked which meant seeing if they were trapped.

On the one hand, finding traps means you experience the deviousness of others. On the other hand, it means you’re doing it first-hand. The poison didn’t take hold, but it did make my arm something of a fright to see. Colwyn and his Just goddess helped there, at least.

Boxes opened, and lots of gold and silver shining bright at us, we now had to get somewhere to spend it. Also were some goggles, like a gnome might wear, and a long rabbit-lined cloak. There were some other things from the island that were passed around, mostly armor for you giants that, of course, did not fit the likes of me.

Kumar and I went to look at the nearby village in what remained of the day’s waning light.

It was, quite obviously, a fishing village of no obvious threat to anyone, not even themselves. It was night and doors were closed, boats were moored or tied or whatever the hell it is you do with boats to make sure they don’t go away. We picked out the church and a warehouse by their silhouettes, and guess which one we looked into. Except there weren’t any windows. This only disappointed Kumar briefly before he lifted me to the thatched roof and we looked inside.

It was dark inside, pitch dark, and filled with some boxes. Now, the idea of opening crates at random and hoping there’s food inside might seem a good idea until you try it. We did get some candles out of the attempt, but that’s all.

Kumar and I exited again via the roof and he, for reasons I still don’t understand, worked his way to the front doors. Now this village was quiet, dead quiet, everyone no doubt trying to get some sleep for the busy day in the morning leaving Kumar to play with the doors, opening them slowly so the squeak of the hinges didn’t echo quite so loudly.

Inside he could not find any obvious signs of food, but true to those of us closer to the ground than you giants, I just needed to follow my nose. The crate held fish packed in salt, but it was food. We took some and fled back to the camp. The camp where there was the light and warmth of fire and the smell of cooking fish.

Now, by “cooking” I mean we were hoping we didn’t get ill from fish too raw, but not so cooked that we could use it as a wooden stake. None of us meant to be living the uncertain life of adventurers and I, for one, prefer the cooking of Mrs. Helfrik’s kitchens on Tramegutter Street.

So fish, cooked and salted, and sleep went a long way to erasing the pains of the last month. Pirates, gruel and the occasional beating, running from madmen and Goddess-sunk islands. The sand was soft and the fire warm. For the first time since leaving Baldur’s Gate, I slept.

Yeah, now you kids get quiet. You think you’re living crappy with your bug-filled mattress and, yeah, that is pretty crappy until you wake up chained to it and the ground’s always moving, or you’ve got to sleep on cold stones near people you don’t know if they’re gonna kill you the minute you stop being useful. There are two things that are more important than power, and that’s sleep and food.

So we all bury the booty the next day, hiding it under some brush. The island, we can now see, is a lot like the one we just left only without the hills or insane servants or hordes of pirates. After protecting our small but substantial horde, we all went to meet the villagers.

We took the boat around the side of the island. If they discovered some fish and candles missing, and they see us trekking up the beach, they might have been bright enough to put the two together. Instead, we arrived as travel-weary rowers, attracting a small crowd of women and excited children. The men and the boats were out for the day, but the elderly mayor and his priestly companion were not.

The mayor welcomed us and let us come ashore, or adock or whatever it is. His name was Barrett, the only reason I remember was this place was called Barrett’s Quay. I don’t know what “quay” means, but it must have something to do with “smells like fish.”

What’s that? It means what? Oh.

Besides the point. His priest was a priest Valken, protector of fishermen. There’s a god for everything, isn’t there? There’s probably a god for buggering sheep, but I don’t want to know what it is. He was about as nice as Barrett, though. Nice and trusting. Too trusting.

I decided then I wouldn’t steal these people blind. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, that’s true, but you don’t do it because the other hand might very well be holding a sword. I’d be surprised if these homely and simple fishermen were led by a lion, but as they had all the information we wanted there was no sense in pushing.

They were nice enough to put us up in a hut for a few days. The widow volunteered to sleep elsewhere. They were nice enough to feed us and tell us how to get to the island of Alaorn, where Melisana was from. All we had to do was wait two days for the trade and supply ship.

We waited and I relaxed, we talked to each other almost like we were friends. Certainly acquaintances by now, people I would buy a round of drinks for every once and a while. People I’d share booty with, which we retrieved and took a closer look at. Were surprised to find that the gnomish goggles and a mace were magical. There was nothing more we could do at this point but look; the two more magically inclined, Nosmo and Dane, did not have the knowledge to eke out the nature of the magics.

The supply ship was a medium-sized galley, about the same size as the pirate ship we were all prisoners on, only it had a few masts and absolutely no oars. We practically thanked the gods right there. The first mate refused to tow our six-oared funeral boat, so I went to try to trade it with Barrett while Kumar bartered our passage.

It is, I suppose, not surprising what small fishing villages pick up that they don’t need. Such as some Umberlee holy water (they could probably make their own), cooking spices and some leather armor.

Ahh, I remember the armor quite fondly. It is the kind of garment that you dream of when you are young. It was useful, filled with pockets of tools perfect for picking locks of all sizes, and it was free. Gnomish armor, really, but the previous owner had the same thoughts of it that I did. An arm was missing, as were several of the tools, but it was the second best news I had in a month. All this and a small sack of vegetables and Barrett had his own slightly used funeral boat.

All eight of us crammed into one cabin. Melisana wasn’t comfortable with this, but she was too giddy to be going home to complain much. The trade ship’s next port was Caladeer, her hometown, and we only had to wait two more days on the sea to get there. I stood on the deck for the thrill of doing nothing on a boat.

Caladeer was a large, sprawling town of probably a few thousand laying between a few small mountains and the ocean. No, probably a little more. Maybe around ten thousand, but it was hard to tell. Instead of clumping the buildings and people together like most human settlements, everything was spread out across the light woods and crawling up the mountain. The whole area reminded me of some halfling villages I’ve been to. These humans were probably smarter than most.

Melisana’s father was so happy to have his daughter back that he let in all of us through the front door, even Colwyn and Sully who worried even the sailors on the trip to Caladeer. He even offered them a drink.

In his thanks, he offered us all store credit to his general-purpose stores here and there around the sprawling town and booked passage for us to King’s Bay, the largest port in the Moonshaes.

By unspoken agreement, we stayed more or less together and waited for the ship to arrive.