Games We Play

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

Thinking this — about the orcs, not about halfling nomads — that the others asked the caravan master to wait a few hours while they went to look for the nest. Rokellen and I stayed behind with the caravan on theory that someone would have to get paid for this trip in case they walked into a trap. I wasn’t in the mood for walking into any.

It happened that they did walk into a trap, but it was a sorry thing little more than a pit covered with some leaves. The orcs who ambushed us took over an abandoned homestead or hunting lodge not far off the road. They built some huts for themselves and had a few small sheds and a cabin left over from the previous owner. There were basic traps (rusty knives and ancient crossbows) on the huts, which guarded nothing much but perhaps some spare weapons in case they needed them. There was a pond with a plank hanging over top, so I suppose that even orcs like having a little non-bloody fun. Though there could have been bloody fun involved in that, since the others never explored the pond. Maybe there were spikes stuck randomly in it and it could have been some kind of game of bravery to jump in and survive.

Yeah, these are the kinds of nasty things that you’ve got to think of when wandering through a tribal encampment.

What there wasn’t was more orcs ready to rush and kill anyone coming into the camp. There were more orcs, one wounded in the cabin and killed before it could say a word; when you’re waiting for ambush I guess you can strike first and ask questions later. The other was a teenaged thing hiding deeper in the cabin. It couldn’t speak Common but Dane could speak Orc, possibly in case he had to explain to his enemies just how he was going to slaughter them. He was at least useful to say that they came from a larger orc village to the east by three or four days.

They brought the boy back because he surrendered, which some of you might disagree with but is the thing you do with people who surrender. If nothing else, you could sell them off later. Kumar offered him as a gift to the caravan master, which is about the same thing. Just because you follow a strict code doesn’t mean you cant take advantage of people who don’t. The master lost the boy in a card game in the next town.

We finally made it to the fortified trade post called the Friendly Arms Inn, a dusty and uninteresting building in the middle of practically nowhere. The people were just transient caravan crews and people who were unfortunate enough to be born and raised in this dusty crossroads along the Sword Coast, a situation similar to mine before I decided to leave and make my own fortune. Some of you didn’t have choices in becoming rogues and cutthroats but most of you did. You who did know what I mean.

Now I was still a young and largely inexperienced businessman at the time, so Ill tell you all that we all make important mistakes with this little story. When we were at the Friendly Arms, I looked around the rooms of other patrons and found some nice gems. Not wanting to raise too much suspicion, I took only one — it’s obviously theft when all your moneys gone but when only a little is then it might be simple absent-mindedness. Always keep them guessing.

To be safe, I stored the gem on the caravan, where I could pick it up in the morning when we were well away. This way, if we were stopped we all could say that we had no gem on our persons, and it would be true. But caravans don’t always unload their goods and pick up the new goods for a return trip. No, instead they sometimes trade entire wagons, probably with those from the same trading coster. This is what happened, and my newfound gem and I parted ways as it went further south with the wagons we were in the day before.

Kumar gambled quite a bit of coin from other caravan masters and Colwyn nearly caught himself a social disease. Social disease, boy. You know, the rockets, unfriendly itch, guests in your breeches, an unwanted gift down below. Good goods, spotted dick. Yes! May I please continue?

Around midmorning, Kumar realized the caravan master didn’t have the orc we gave him, which only disappointed Sully and Dane who wanted the creature to make a mistake so they could pull his arms and legs off. Instead, the master lost the boy in a poker game. The wheel of civilization turns, and everything turns out for the best.

The trip back to Baldurs Gate was uneventful. Sully and Dane amused themselves by trying to guess where we were ambushed and talked boasts about going to find the main village and causing more pain to orcs. This stopped when we saw the site, difficult to miss with the remains of bloodstains and trampled wheat. I don’t know what it is about some who need to gloat and brag about the times they’ve died, or come close. I’ve done both with these people more times than I care to remember and all it has ultimately done is bring me here. Lucky for you lot, isn’t it.

Isn’t it? A little louder from the back, there. Good, good, that’s what I like to hear.

No new jobs awaited us back in Baldurs Gate, but none of us were surprised. Dane went out and about to find someone more experienced to tell us about some of the mysterious magical items wed found. Normally this would be a job for Nosmo and Dane himself, but their record for success was not high at all and we all felt better paying someone off. We still had some sizable pearls, the main component for such a feat, so the rest was relatively inexpensive. We did not have a lot of money as it was, but it ended up being good for all of us to spend what little we did.

Afterwards we broached the subject of the ocean, again. The brutes of the business were eager to go out and knock the heads of anyone together, especially the slavers who captured us, and we did have the accurate location of one of the slaver ports but we didn’t have what was most important, a boat and a crew. Nor could we afford such things.

Fortunately it was the Thieves Guild who gave us the means to fulfill our plan. At the mere risk of transport, we would give the Thieves Guild two full shares of anything we brought back with us, which would supposedly be shared more or less fairly to the crew. Rokellen, much to our surprise, was adept at navigation. He was a quiet sort, much like the dead he was charged to help pass to their just rewards, and we didn’t know a whole lot about him. He had held onto some of the navigation tools from the shipwreck of our captors ship when it dashed on the rocks almost a month before. I was a little upset, as those tools could fetch a good price, but it also meant the Guild did not have a chance to fleece us for more shares for rental of more supplies.

I did not, by any means, want to go. We had just survived the ocean once, but if I were to repay my monetary debt to these people I had to participate and no discussion was swaying them.

“The Brethren of the Waves” was a sizable sloop of questionable age and quality. Its crew knew what they were doing, for even though the Guild did not submit to piracy lest they upset some of the Sea Kings, Baldurs Gate was a port town and its impossible to swing a dead cat without hitting a few dozen sailors. And sometimes you just want to move some goods quietly by sea without inconveniences of city taxation taking hold.

I myself found myself a cork vest in case I was dumped overboard and an oilcloth cut to fit over my head to keep off the rain, something I remember there being more than enough of out around the Moonshae islands. The sailors made fun of us for going around wearing our armor, in cases of the brutes it would drag them under without mercy, cork vest or not. I don’t blame them for not riding the waves without some kind of protection, but I was glad I am both small and light.

On our second day to Mintarn, the island equivalent of Friendly Arms Inn, a sleek but small sailing vessel running the black flag infamously known as pirate colors approached us. I don’t know why black except maybe it is the opposite of white, being the color, at least in civilized lands, for surrender. Black must mean something like, “You have no chance, so you might as well surrender.”

Some beefy brute standing on the pointy end, the prow or whatever its called, had a similar olive-skinned look as Kumar and boomed out, “In the name of the Duke Valaa, surrender your goods!” Now the ship was such a poky little thing that I don’t know where they were planning on putting the goods if we had any. If we were on a large merchantman with our hull filled with spices and food, would he just take whatever he could fit and let us go? We would never find out, though, since our own captain recognized him, paid the oceanic version of a toll (and I could hear “extra charges” for the trip adding up in my head) and the little sleek ship sailed off at speed.

When we finally made it to Mintarn, I had won most of the money back I had lost at cards the previous days. There is almost nothing to do on a boat unless you’re running it, and I finally understand why sailors are so antsy to get drinking and to places like the Blushing Mermaid when they finally see land. This lot wasn’t as rowdy as most, but we were only gone from land for a few days. A few days too long, if you ask me.

There we learned a little more about the pirates who picked us up, a group of new slavers from further west of the Moonshaes. These, unlike most the pirates around these parts, were mixed humans and orcs and, of course, half-orcs, which is what you get when you mix humans and orcs. Even the honest sailors were wishing for just the old pirates, these new folk being backed by some unknown power, probably someone with gobs of money stretching out their arms, but there isn’t much out past the Moonshaes but more shards of rock and eventually some other continent. What I meant to say is nobody liked this new group much, so I was hoping we could drum up support from merchants and local pirates alike to deal with them, if someone isn’t already doing just that. Actually I was hoping I could make it back to mainland in one piece.

The night out of Mintarn, where not even Nosmo dared try getting a disturbing social disease, we had more ocean versions of a toll, but with less gold and more blood. Late at night, on the middle watch, something started crawling over the railings. It was huge, easily eight foot tall and ugly with scales. I didn’t know, at first, because like most of the others I was below trying to get some sleep, but the watchman up the main pole has a loud bell that could wake the dead. But not Dane, who needed kicking to get him awake, though he later tried to tell me he never really sleeps anyway. Elves try to pull this kind of mystic shit on you all the time.

The fight was brutal and ugly, and the large greenish seamen were as rough as any battle wed faced yet. I, fortunately, was finally not so much a target as Kumar and Sully were. Kumar, especially, was bitten and torn into, but not so badly as two of the crew who fell in a single swipe of the monsters claws. But the large desert man was eventually struck down by the seamen and remained down until Colwyn could get to him and bind up his wounds then use his divine powers to heal. Kumar stood in time to get hit by the Brethren of the Waves ballista, sending him right back down again.

He didn’t die. At the time, I was thankful, because its always a pain when useful people die.

Afterwards, we had a brief ceremony for the fallen and we went back to sleep. It was getting a little easier to sleep after this excitement. You just become jaded to it after time, used to the frenzy of activity and blood. It helps if you aren’t gored by some ugly giant man-thing from unknown depths.