Authors Note: Holy Crap! 50 chapters done. Wow! Big thanks to everyone: you readers, the reviewers, and to the awesome D&D group that gave us the inspiration to come up with a story. PLEASE review when done reading. What has been your favorite story arc thus far, who is your favorite character, where the authors can improve in writing, and where you think the story will lead?
Chapter 50: Shadows over Daggr Port Part: I
The smell of sea salt is a wonderous fragrance to travelers that never venture too far from home. The lapping waves of the sea bring forth its briny aroma travels across the winds and heralds any pilgrim to the approach of the coastline. In the distance tall masted trading vessels smaller fishing boats bobbed in the harbor. The shrieks of gulls flapped around the port city of Daggr Port. Cargo ships from the Kingdom of Erandd, The Dwarven colonies of Exermet and The Craggs, and even some from the City-State of Sol Lancia undocked their hulls and replenished them of much needed income, supplies, and more trade goods to be brought to their home regions. Fleets of wagon trains exited the warehouses for their northern destinations.
Mixed with the salty perfume, was a combination of mud and an unnamable miasma that hung like a fog. the ground underneath was awash with a film of mud. Cart tracks guided three adventurers towards their destination. Two wearing long heather grey capes, while the other in a faded yellow cloak. An incoming horse cart sped by, splashing one of the grey caped figure with mud.
"Gryaznyye ublyudki!" yelled a traveler! His hands throwing vulgar signs at the drivers. The traveler wiped the mud from the side of his face and spit away what globs touched his lips
His companions remained silent. The tallest amongst them moved looked ahead and surmised their journey was soon over. Their destination was almost in reach. A warm meal and a dry bed would be the most pleasant things they could think of at the moment.
Calling the port, a city would seem unrealistic. Despite the clear signs of industry in the harbor, the rest of the township looked abandoned. And rotting. A grey overcast sky hung in the air. Very few chimneys looked to be producing smoke. There were numerous sagging gambrel roofed building that best displayed the decay of the township. And in the salty air, there was something else here. It couldn't be named, only felt. It was extremely subtle but could be felt in some. It was like standing in the presence of one who had seen hardship. A dread that radiated off them. And by the looks of the conditions of this township. It was well felt.
On their way into town, the three first passed by a dilapidated structure resembling a chapel. Its spire roof was fallen in, windows broken. And door left ajar. Poking through a midden of overgrowth and weeds, stone tablets protruded from the ground. Each offset, broken, or sun bleached pale. Next to the wrought iron fence, multiple freshly dug graves were aligned in family plots. The sight of so many markers concerned the yellow clad traveler. What concerned her even more was that among the graves was that some of the dirt mounds were tiny. This wrenched the mage's heart.
The putrid smell of fish was heavy in the town. Even on the very edge away from the warf. The three took refuge for the night in a rather plain inn named the Gilman House. Much like the rest of the township's buildings, it too was worn down. A chilly draft was felt throughout the building. Their room appeared to be the best part of the entire inn. Save for the fact there was only one bed, a small table with two chairs, and a window view that overlooked the cityscape. From their viewpoint, among the dilapidation of Daggr Port, three buildings looked to be in the greatest condition.
Once they secured their room, the yellow cloaked mage lowered her arms and a small hound paced about the room. Sniffing all the new accommodations and getting his bearings. She sighed as she collapsed into a rickety chair. Her muscles ached from the journey. But rest will have to wait. She still had her job to do. In her satchel, she retrieved a leather-bound notebook, ink, and a quill.
"Okay. Thaelin, So tell me again. Other than this town falling apart at the seams, what's wrong here?"
Her companion hung up his damp cloak on a peg near the door. The man scratched the stubble on his cheek which made an audible rasping sound. "Welp like I said, rumors very. There's a lot to pick from. But what I've pieced says something else. My contact in Hayak told me that Daggr Port is just your normal quaint know-nothing little port city. Full of fishing boats and trader ships. One family here used to run this town like kings and rub elbows with the Duke himself. That is until some competition came to town."
"Hmm.." Hastur chimed while scratching the notes into her book.
"Yup. When this second family of merchants came into town, well those graves outside town dont lie. People dying and of course Northerners are always eager to blame the new people."
"I counted seven new graves in the graveyard. Has the law done anything?"
"Aside from brawls and a few scraps between the merchant groupsand ."
"-And if we dont hurry there will be more. Lets find the killer and be done with this task. This city stinks." declared Varris breaking her silence
Hastur scribbled down notes into the book as fast as her hands could write. "Thaelin, go to the docks and gather as much information as possible on the merchant. I will go to the Chapel and see what else I can find. We will need the God's help on this one."
The party re-embarked into the city. Thaelin heading towards the wharf. And Hastur off to the ruined chapel.
Her bodyguards armor echoed through the streets. Hastur tried to distance herself from the obnoxious sounds of metal.
The temple was a shell of its former self. Built in a T-floorplan, the temple complex featured three spires that marked the East, North, and West cardinal directions. A wrought iron gate protected the property of the building itself and the entirety of the graveyard. But with time and neglect, the home of the gods was left to falter. The spires were caved in; weeds and grass outside were overgrown and covered the flagstone walk; all the glass windows were cracked or missing. Although on the South side where the doors were stationed, there looked to be newer boards replacing where the rotted ones were. Even a hammer and can of nails were left forgotten.
Hastur gave the weathered door a tug without it moving. She tugged a little more and the entire handle came off in her hand.
"Shit." She sighed tossing the broken bit aside "Any ideas how we can get in?" she asked aloud
"Maybe I can shimmy up to one of the windo-"
Varris squared up against the door. Looking the haggard thing over and with one kick, the door splintered. The paladin pulled debris away and cleared a path for her charge "Be careful. These abandoned places are dangerous"
Hastur rolled her eyes and reluctantly proceeded in. and her fears as to what the inside was like was duly met. The smell of mold and dirt was overbearing. She took a corner of her cloak and tried to use it to filter out the foul smells.
Towards the northern chancel an alter with four idols were placed neatly. The cloth underneath had only a few specks of dirt but the idols still remained in good condition. Figurines of Selune, Mieliki, Umberlee, and Helm.
Varris felt the floorboards sag under her. She kept a stone face when pacing the chapel. It was sad seeing a place of unity and belief. Amongst the signs of ruin, she did see some signs of renovation. In the eastern chancel, there was a stack of new window panes leaning against the alter.
A headache was getting to them both. Hastur felt her sight waver slightly so she made her way to a window facing the graveyard and stuck her head out. It wasn't much help, but the salty air was better than that inside the building.
Hastur looked back at her bodyguard and tried to sneak her way out the window. She vaulted one leg over the window and tried to position herself to launch herself down. Her hand grazed a shard of glass and a jagged nail caught her sleeve. Hastur winced in pain and in her reaction, she lost balance and tumbled out the window
Thankfully dead brush with thorny branches cushioned her as she fell on her back. Her body ached with pain and multiple tiny cuts covered her exposed flesh. The needle-like pins of thorns prodded through her blouse and pants. She wanted to move but only in a direction that lead to less pain.
She looked up to find a blue haired paladin looking down at her in annoyance
"Damn it cadet! Stay there. I'll come get you."
The cleric wanted to spout a sarcastic comeback as to the 'stay there' bit. But it wouldn't be worth the effort. Instead she just tried not to move, laid back, watched the overcast sky, and think
"Fuck. I hope Thaelin is having better luck than me."
The scenery by the wharf was much like the Forge District in Hayak. Dock workers were hard at work, folks scurrying about from storehouse to storehouse. Wagons of crates and barrels were hauled to and fro. And cultures clashed at the crossroads.
Thaelin paced the boardwalks. Casting out his ears to hear and pick up any information as possible. Then as luck would have it. He found a promising sight. A four-masted schooner ship of dwarves were unloading their cargo. The captain of the the ship had a long grey beard with notes of fairer hair mixed in.
Ahoy, "Hows the seas?" Thaelin said switching to the dwarven language
"Iffin' yer lookin' fer work. Grab a crate and pull yer weight lad. We got ourselves a schedule tuh keep." The Dwarf said sticking to the common language
"Nah. I already got a job."
"Then piss of! Time is money. And yer wastin' mine."
Thaelin pouted his lips and reached into his coinpurse. "Then how about I buy a moment. I need some answers" He said flipping a silver coin and to the captain.
The captain caught the coin midair. Looked it over and led Thaelin aside. "Ya got my time. Now what do ya want, human?"
"I'm investigating the deaths lately. Figured the best place to search is where the docks."
"Aye. As me pa used to say. 'Ya want to know a city ask the rats'. And there's no one better THAN THOSE RAT BASTARDS, WHO WORK FER THEM SOUTHERN WANKERS!." The Captain yelled off the ship towards a ship docked across from his.
"Shut yer gob, ya hairy chinned, Squat!" came a response from the other ship
Uncharacteristically, Thaelin shrugged his shoulders and lead the Captain away from the soon-to-be shouting match between sailors "Captain, please. I don't want trouble. Usually I'm the one who causes it."
The Captain paced away and leaned against one of the tall masts "All this. All the troubles we gots here is because of 'em! Damned Southern rats. Come inta our land. Tradin', robbin' us of our hard earned coin. Sose they can be livin in their golden palace."
"How do the deaths play into this. Was anyone murdered?"
"Not rightly yet. Laird of the McClainn family lost a sister. Kind hearted lass she was. A shame. The Laird blamed the Southerners fer her death. Since then a feuds been boiling. Bodies on both sides fallin Gods help us if-"
Thaelin Jumped when out of nowhere an arrow came flying into the mast not a few inches above the captain's felt hat. The Captain didn't even flinch when it landed. He looked up, broke the arrow in half, and threw it over the side of the ship, spouting insults to the neighboring ship.
"Ha! Ya missed me, ya norogh sargh! Perhaps if ya learn to shoot instead of ploughing yer sisters and suckin' on yer momma teets, ya could hit me!"
A second arrow whizzed by and almost struck close to Thaelin.
"Ya missed again!"
The ranger proffered up a few coppers and took the arrow that almost struck him. "Gods I hope this mission doesn't get me killed. I wonder if Hastur is having better luck than me?"
