by Domino Finn
We paddled through the morning gloom, silently scanning the rocky shoreline. We weaved between lifeless boats. At first, it felt like a graveyard. Not a sound beyond the cackles of the seabirds. Not a hint of movement or boisterous laughter.
Our skiff approached the main dock. Built of stout yellowwood, a stretching arm reached deep into the sea, almost as long as the city was wide. The lanterns were glass spheres filled with glowing fluid. Something Kyle might've appreciated. With a last heave of the oars, Errol ducked low without warning. The four of us realized we were on a collision course with the platform and kissed the bottom of the boat. The skiff quietly drifted beneath the dock where, for the first time, I heard shambling footsteps. No one said a word. When we emerged from the other side, the fog covered evidence of our passing.
A much more modest dock sat at the far end of Shorehome. It appeared to be used for smaller local traffic as opposed to the large manned fishing and raiding vessels. Only two fancy lanterns lit the midpoint and end of this dock. As we neared, I finally spied a living person. A dockmaster was lazily nodding off when he spied us.
"Time t' make due on yer promise o' silver," whispered Errol.
Vagram narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Fer the dockmaster," he assured.
The cleric transferred some coins to the pirate, who weighed them in his hands and nodded. I was surprised he stopped short of testing it with his teeth.
"Ahoy, me hearty!" He called to the man on the dock. Not too quiet as to arouse suspicion, but not too loud as to attract unwanted attention. "Gloomy seas today."
He steered the skiff sideways as the dockmaster squinted over us. He was a human. A sailor, no doubt. For all we knew, Errol was buddies with the guy.
"What have we here?" he asked.
Errol smiled broadly as he hopped off the boat and tied it down. "Just a bout o' midnight fishin', is all."
The man frowned. "Ain't supposed to go midnight fishin'."
"Nay, I ain't," said Errol, waving us off the boat. He handed the dockmaster a few coins. " 'Tis a failing o' mine, but I always pay me fines."
The harbor man grunted and looked us over again. Despite Errol's urging, no one had moved. "And this lot?"
Errol smiled. "Why, they're the fish." He broke into forced laughter and handed the man another pile of coins, this one noticeably larger. The dockmaster joined in with the chortling.
Izzy and I traded a curious glance. It seemed these pirates had bribery down to everyday etiquette. We hurried off the skiff.
"And you'll be needing to dock your vessel, then?" asked the greedy harbor man.
"If ye have the space," conceded a modest Errol, passing more silver around.
"Right then. I can't guarantee it'll be here when you get back if you take too long."
Errol pushed us toward the shore. "There's more silver fer ya if it is." He turned to us. "Keep walkin', swabbers."
"One last thing," called out the dockmaster as we left him. "You'll need your papers at the gate."
Errol nodded and smiled, but his face twisted as he joined us.
"What damned gate?" I asked.
"Language," reminded Vagram.
"There is no gate. It's—" he stopped. At the end of the dock were a couple more harbor men sitting beside a small checkpoint kiosk. The entire shoreline wasn't gated off or anything, but these men were definitely checking the credentials of every traveler coming from the water. "This be new," he said.
"Are we boned?" I asked. "It seems like we're boned."
The pirate chuckled. "That entirely depends on if ye have any more silver or not."
Sure enough, the men checking papers had flexible opinions regarding the legality of our entry in direct correlation to the amount of coin we handed them. Curiously, we seemed to be in violation of not one but three separate bylaws, and each came with a separate fine. Since there were two men enforcing the laws, these fines were naturally doubled. Izzy and I volunteered some of our own silver to the shakedown.
"Follow me," said the shiftier of the two men. He walked us along the boardwalk.
Men and women were just setting up for the morning, lining up baskets of goods and starting fire pits. I imagined once the day was in full effect this boardwalk would be a bustling hub of trade.
"Uh," I whispered to Izzy, "does this look like a city that was just conquered by pagans?"
"I was wondering the same thing," she agreed.
"Ho!" said the harbor man, suddenly stiffening. "Um, hide in here, if you please."
He shuffled us into a wooden storage closet full of fishing nets and rusty hooks. There wasn't enough space for all of us, so Errol shoved us in and closed the door.
"What's this, then?" called out a roaming guard.
The harbor man answered without missing a beat. "This fine gentleman is just showing me his wares, sir."
"Aye," said Errol. "Up an' early, I always say. Fine day fer a stroll."
"To be sure," added the harbor man.
"T' be sure."
The men's voices were muffled as they plodded away from the storage closet.
"Pirates," grumbled Vagram.
I strained to hear the conversation outside, but they were too far away.
"Maybe he's leading them away," offered Izzy.
Vagram sneered. "Maybe he's collecting a group of scum to take the rest of our silver." The other crusader nervously fingered the hilt of his sword.
"That doesn't make any sense," I cut in. "Why would he lead us all this way just to turn on us now?"
"I thought I was clear. For the silver."
"Okay, but why would he travel all the way to Stronghold just to come back for silver?"
"Because he's a pirate."
I cocked my head. "Okay, but—"
"Cut it out, you two," snapped Izzy. "Isn't anybody else wondering where all the goblins are?"
The cleric's eyes narrowed. We eyed each other, as if the simple entrance into a town run by thieves and raiders cast us into the same roles. Tense moments passed as we listened to more incoherent murmuring outside. The crusader's hand tightened on his sword.
"Wait," I said. "Nothing to be nervous about."
His full helm faced me. "I'm not nervous." The gray text above his head merely read [Crusader].
"What's your name?" I asked.
He was silent a moment until the cleric interjected. "He's a soldier of the White King. That is enough."
"Sure," I said, still facing the crusader, "but don't you have a name?"
"I'm a soldier of the White King," he repeated.
I chewed my lip and studied the cleric. His gray text read [Cleric Vagram]. They were both NPCs, like Errol, but the knight was different. More generic, perhaps.
I continued the small talk to calm his nerves. "Do you have a home, soldier?"
"Everybody has a home," he answered. "I hail from Oakengard."
"A wife and kid?"
He didn't answer.
"Any hopes and dreams?"
Vagram hissed. "What is it with the strange questions?"
"Quiet," said Izzy. "Someone's coming."
Boots stomped toward the storage closet. Everybody readied to spring in the event of disaster. The door swung open and Errol grinned wide, two guards behind him.
"Anybody happen t' have more silver?"
0750 Age of Pirates
The five of us strolled past the burgeoning market, finally devoid of an escort. The entire affair had personally cost me 2,000 silver. It was a steep price, but we had avoided inspections and questioning altogether. It also didn't hurt that we were rich. Completing our epic quest by defeating Orik had been rewarded with 50,000 silver, split three ways.
I wondered how a city so corrupt could get anything done, but for now we were in Shorehome and on our own. The streets were beginning to fill with early risers. Soon we'd be lost in the crowd.
"So what now?" I asked.
"We take in the scene and gather actionable intel," s
aid Vagram plainly.
"Right. That's not much of a plan."
"What say you, pirate?"
Errol gave us a sidelong glance. "I have contacts in this city. I can—"
A goblin rounded a building and froze ten feet ahead of us. His eyes and mouth widened as he saw us. "Pagan killers..." he muttered.
He turned and ran.
"We can't let him raise the alarm," cried Vagram, breaking into a run. The crusader followed on his heels.
"My pagan reputation," I muttered. "I should've known the stranger's cowl doesn't hide that." With a sigh, I ran after them.
The goblin's short legs were a disadvantage, but he only needed to escape a few buildings down. As I turned the corner, Vagram kicked in the door to a small house. I rushed after them. By the time I was inside, the goblin was already dead. Vagram's bronze blade dripped with black blood.
"He didn't fight?" I wondered aloud.
We were in a small home. Tables and chairs were dirty with food scraps. The crusader searched the kitchen. I checked the back room.
A goblin mother was clutching a goblin toddler on a bed. Neither were named mobs. The woman's tag showed yellow, indicating a simple challenge. The young boy was mostly inconsequential at white. They shivered with fear.
"Is that all of them?" called Vagram from the other room. "We can't let them know we've breached the walls."
I waited, stunned, as the two goblins stared at the spear in my hands.
The crusader muttered an affirmative from the kitchen. After a tense moment, Vagram prodded me. "Talon?"
I took a slow breath, then nodded toward the armoire. The mother hesitantly moved her child and hid within the large wardrobe.
"It's clear," I shouted.
As I spun to go, the crusader was suddenly at my side. I couldn't see his eyes through the helmet, but I kept my cool. He turned with me to go. Errol and Izzy were at the front door, weapons drawn.
"Since when could you draw your frost dagger in town?" I asked her.
She looked down at it, unsure. If she'd been attacked by a goblin, she would've been able to defend herself, of course, but I wasn't so sure he'd been an aggressor. The city was no longer under saintly control. No email or wiki connectivity, but it probably extended to city protections as well. That meant PvP was possible.
"That was a close one," said the cleric. "We need to be more cautious."
I swallowed and stared at the dead goblin father. He'd seen us and fled. The thought sickened my stomach, but if this was his home, he'd respawn here soon enough.
"Why are goblins living in a human town?" asked Izzy, scanning the scene.
"They're oppressors," answered Vagram. "The humans here are their prisoners, choosing servitude over death."
I peeked out the window as merchants passed. A lot of men and women had departed. Many made it to Stronghold. Others drifted in the wild. Still others became bandits and preyed on their own townspeople. What I hadn't expected was that so many would be left doing... well... normal things.
"More goblins outside," I noted.
"Pagan scum," spat the crusader.
Izzy sighed. "How are we supposed to walk around a pagan town after we killed their god? The amount of negative faction rep in this room is stifling."
"We need to wait until nightfall," said Vagram. "We have no choice but to hole up here."
"No," I said quickly. "We need to go."
They looked at me.
"I mean, that goblin's gonna respawn, right? This house won't be empty forever."
The crusader shrugged. "We can kill him again."
"Look at the plates on the table," I urged. "More than one goblin lives here. The others could return at any time. They're probably a hunting party or something. They'll raise a stink."
The house was a jumble of mismatched possessions. It was obvious more than one person lived here, but there was no evidence of big bad hunters. The crusaders weren't convinced.
"It's settled then," said Errol. "I'll check the streets. See if anybody's lookin' into our little chase." The pirate slipped out the door.
"I don't trust him," muttered Vagram.
"You don't trust anyone," I pointed out.
"Have I cause to?"
"Don't act like you're the only one who doesn't have secrets. I know you're not here for the pagans." I squared up with Vagram. "Such a small group might be able to recover the Squid's Tooth, but no way are we taking on the pagans. You're really here to find Lucifer."
Vagram's nostrils flared. Instead of denying it, he clenched his teeth.
I huffed. The cleric and I didn't exactly see eye to eye, but I wasn't interested in constantly butting heads. The whole reason I was here was to prove my trust, at least in the eyes of Bishop Tannen. Personally, I just wanted to help. The thought that I was partly responsible for this chafed me.
"Let's just back up a minute," I said. "We're here, right? I mean, all nine of us didn't make it. Two crusaders are probably respawned back in Oakengard by now. Grimwart and the other are heading to Stronghold. But we still have five men."
Izzy cleared her throat.
"Four men and one woman."
"Which pretty much counts for nine men," she added with a smirk.
"The point is," I said, not taking the bait, "we're still proceeding with the mission. We're in Shorehome. The soulstone is here, and Lucifer might be too. How do we go about finding him?"
The cleric crossed his arms. "You two are the only ones here who've ever seen the man. You're the scout. If you find him, use the dragonspear to face the black dragon. Leave the fallen one to me."
"That's it?" I asked. "You're that confident?"
"My faith is my strength."
"Your faith doesn't appear to be healing the cursed portion of your health." I too was afflicted. My health was maxed out at 201/261. It wasn't a good start to a devil hunt. "Have you spoken with the saints? Are you aware you're trying to succeed where two angels have failed?"
"The saints are not perfect, Talon. And the angels have not failed. Not yet." Vagram lowered the hood of the generic cloak and approached me. "The task before us is not an easy one. We must proceed with faith. And when we have done so, I think you will find the allies of the White King formidable indeed."
As he finished speaking, light coughing came from the other room. His head zoomed in on the closed bedroom door. "What was that?"
I cleared my throat loudly and moved to the door. "Nothing," I said. "Street noise."
"That was in the house."
Vagram opened the door but I brushed ahead of him. The bedroom was empty. The cleric's eyes scanned the walls.
Another cough came from the armoire.
One of Vagram's bronze swords materialized in his hand with a flash of light. I equipped my spear as the crusader drew his blade.
The door to the armoire swung open.
"Pagans!" swore the cleric.
"No," I said. "A mother and child."
"You're hiding them. You're a traitor to the cause."
"It's not like that, Vagram. Don't be so dramatic. I just can't kill helpless goblins."
"Let me show you how," he said. He advanced a step and I swiveled my spear to his chest. He sneered. "Do not presume you can stop me."
Frost materialized into a sharp icicle at the cleric's back.
"What's a girl gotta do to get noticed around here?" chimed in Izzy. "You know, I'm starting to like this town combat thing."
I grinned. "Stand down, Vagram."
His eyes met the crusader's. The knight flanked to my side slowly, not readying an attack but getting into position in case one was necessary.
"This will ruin the mission," I urged.
"Killing pagans is always the mission," said the catechist, his eyes flashing in anger.
The front door opened and Errol walked in, but nobody could afford to take their eyes off each other. More boots followed the pirate and Izzy's icicle went limp and shattered on the floor. I risked a pe
ek into the main room.
A band of rogues, wearing dark leather, hooked curved knives around Izzy's throat. They spilled into the bedroom and surrounded us.
"Traitors," spat Vagram. "I'm surrounded by them."
0760 Brotherhood
The crusaders forgot about the goblins and turned their weapons to the more pressing danger. I counted ten of them, every bit the rogues' gallery that I'd expect from this town.
Errol made eleven and left us with four, if you counted Izzy with a knife at her throat.
Vagram's second sword flashed into his off hand. "Lower your blades," he demanded.
A man in black studded leather slinked between his cohorts. "Forgive the display," he said in a soft voice. "It's necessary to ensure everybody's safety."
"Mine or yours?" he spat.
The man's lips tightened. He was an unassuming, molish man. Diminutive with thinning black hair and beady eyes. Not exceptional in any way. His only identifier was [Hadrian].
"You're a player," I said.
"Let me introduce myself," he started. "We are—"
"The Brothers in Black," finished Vagram, unimpressed. "Criminal scum draining Shorehome of whatever riches it has to offer."
Hadrian wasn't offended. "The dominant criminal scum in Shorehome," he corrected. "Leading the largest gang in a city without leaders, Papa Brugo humbly requests your presence."
My eyes flicked to the blade at Izzy's throat. She looked more pissed than scared, but she was playing it smart by waiting. If the Brothers in Black had meant to backstab us, they wouldn't have announced themselves.
"We don't care about Papa Brugo's humble requests," countered the cleric.
Hadrian pressed his lips together. "Those were euphemisms. Nothing about Papa Brugo is humble, and he doesn't make requests. As the Papa of all Papas, his word is followed without question. Besides, you'll need our assistance if you want to avoid business like that in the future." He motioned toward the dead goblin in the other room.
"You can hide us from the pagans?" I asked.
"No one can do better. Sheath your weapons and let us help you."
"Take that knife from Izzy's neck and you have a deal."
Vagram turned to me, outraged. Hadrian nodded to his man who released Izzy. Errol tried to assist her but she brushed him away and fell in at my side.