Sunday October 2nd, 402 (2:27 p.m.) [17]:
[As Kane has mentioned, Quinn will be present for the planning stage of the evening, but he’ll need to leave an hour after sunset to meet Cyralix as he was instructed so, presumably, before any real action happens. The meeting point shouldn’t be too far away since the party is already at the pier. It’s safe to assume at this point, with Drayven’s healing, that Quinn is now at full hit points.]
[Drayven notes a variety of distinguishing marks, quirks and foibles over the course of the mid-afternoon, before he, Kai and some of the others retire to the Whelk to rest and rememorize spells: Two sailors are bald, a few badly sunburnt, one missing an ear, one inclined to yell and swear whenever anyone says anything to him, a few with rickets, another with a bandaged foot, one with a (presumably) pet mouse that sits on his shoulder most of the time, and one wearing pants with a stain that suggests he’s perpetually peeing himself, although mostly likely it’s just an unfortunate and innocent-enough stain. He believes that all of the men he sees are human, although it’s possible some may be half-elf or half-orc, he’s too far away to be sure. Those boarding the ship stop to converse with the guards, but it doesn’t seem as though the conversation is an interrogation, and they don’t appear as though they’re being searched.]
[I’ll hold off writing on this thread to give players time to hammer out a specific plan – again, Kane, you’re welcome to make suggestions here as well as Ryan since Quinn will be present up to the point he needs to leave – and for now we’ll assume that Quinn leaves around 7:30 to meet with Cyralix. Ryan/Kane, I know you’re both busy right now so if you don’t have time to respond I’ll figure something out with what Shane has provided, Shane in this event if you want to underscore certain aspects of your plan that you’d prefer that would give me some direction as I write.]
7:40 p.m.:
[I’ll move through things breezily if you don’t mind, Kane]
“You’re on time – good,” Cyralix greets Quinn with a quick, approving glance, interrupting a long gaze at the ships at the jetty and the sea beyond. She sits on a stubby, well-worn piling that looks cleaner than the other guano-stained ones in the area. Quinn can still see where he and his friends sat for lunch across the bay [and possibly sees evidence of the rest of the party if they’re on the job and depending on the plan they settle on]. “I hope you’re not expecting comfort, we’ll be on a cargo ship to Kenchra. We’ll be in a utility room off the hold, it was the best I could do. It’s just one night, though, at least there’s that.”
Quinn and Cyralix [who every once in a while insists on being called Alex, but otherwise accepts her more formal name without resistance] board the Sea Blade without ceremony, ducking out of the way of the last boxes and barrels being brought on board as they ascend the gangplank. They’re shown to their quarters and spend their dinner sitting across from one another in the hold, each seated on a cask, with bowls of leftover bisque and biscuits from the crew’s mess to satisfy them, one hand clutching their bowls and the other bracing their candles, occasionally daring to let it go, pick up their spoons and shovel a mouthful of the tepid sustenance in the direction of their mouths before reaching back to the light source to keep it from tipping over. Few words are exchanged during the meal, both due to the din of the crew around them strapping down the cargo and the need to concentrate on keeping their bowls on the table. “We’d better hurry,” Cyralix advises, “They’ll set sail soon, it’ll get a lot harder to eat then.” As she finishes saying this, the ship lurches, the bowls slosh their contents and Quinn’s companion rolls her eyes. She licks her thumb and forefinger, snuffs out both candles, and mutters, “Fuck it, let’s eat in the dark.”
In the little conversation the two share during dinner (while the stevedores are out of earshot), Alex reveals little about the mission ahead. “Our mutual friend, the one you met earlier today, has operations running on the west coast of Kenchra. His shipments have been intercepted lately, and he’s losing money. He doesn’t like that. We’re going to visit a man named Fulsin, Once we know more, we’re going to try to convince whoever’s behind this of the error of their ways. Deliver them an ethics lesson they’ll remember for a while. Are you an ethical man, Quinn?”
Shortly after their meal is done, the lights still out, Cyralix sighs. “It’s been a long day, for me at least. I really need a good night’s sleep. Strip.”
[We’ll leave the rest to your imagination, Kane, and move on to the next scene…]
Quinn jolts awake from a deep sleep, unsure of how long he’s been out but thinking it must be at least three or four hours. He reaches over to his right through the pitch black engulfing him, expecting Alex to be there, but finds the space empty. He’s about to reach to his left to find if she’s there but as he does he hear a loud bang in what sounds like the deck overhead. This is followed by more sounds, shouts and heavy footsteps. What will Quinn do here? He is currently unequipped and unclothed, but his equipment should be an arm’s length away. It will take two or three minutes to fully equip, or a minute to find and grab the essentials in the dark [he’s not sure where the candles have been left, so it would take a while to procure a light source for himself]. The hatch and ladder to the deck above is only twenty-five feet away and so getting to the main deck should be easy enough to do. How does he handle this situation?
J