As the group walk through the Reb Bazaar, Laderan's gaze is drawn all over. He flits between stalls and passes quick conversations with hawkers and vendors, each one proclaiming their wares to be the best in the land. Several times he has to dash to catch up with the group when he can't escape from an over eager merchant's sales pitch, or some exotic token catches his eye. "Lotsa stuff here, these di-no-sores, they seem to provide a lot of the material for goods. Not seen many lizards as big as these. Hope they are placid enough, I mean, even a cart horse can cause trouble when spooked. Imagine the damage one of those things would do running amok!" As the group continue Laderan keeps his eyes out for beggars and roughly dressed children, aware that pick pockets are rife in such places. With his small purse carrying a heavier than normal weight he ensures it is safely tucked inside the folds of his clothing, so that no quick slice of a knife blade will separate him from his earnings.
As Syndra points out the more colourful Grand Souk, Laderan's ears start to twitch. The vibrancy of the place was much more akin to his homeland, and it made him pause for a moment. Maybe this place wasn't all that bad, the prospect of a death curse originating from some evil in the area was clearly not something that hampered the goings on here, in fact so many people seemed pre-occupied with their own affairs that he could almost forget their reason for being here, were he so inclined. As he mulls over that though, they encounter the guards and his curiosity fades, his demeanour a little more guarded. Through his travels he had met with all too many city militia or whatever organisation deemed it their remit to uphold some written rubbish about what good folk could and couldn't do; though he had to admit there were exceptions for the most part his vagrancy was looked down upon and thus Laderan's experiences with such individuals had left him with a decided negative impression of guard and their ilk. He avoids making eye contact as they walk onwards, keeping his gaze ahead and hoping for... Well he didn't really know what for; he was here with a perfectly justifiable reason and a respectable escort, heading to meet with an important person. It was a completely alien situation for him even if the sites and sounds were otherwise so familiar.
Laderan declines the washroom, his fur was still fresh and he saw no need to delay the proceedings, though he was certin that Vladimir would partake of the facilities - even if just to see whether the local standards met with his own. At the request from Wakanga to share their needs, Laderan steps forwards and speaks his mind, "We could really do with a cure to the death curse if you have one lying around? It'd save us a lot of time and effort." "No? Well, had to ask. You probably know that we were hand picked to obtain the vital information that has led us this far. Which for a group that has less than a ten-day of time working together should itself speak volumes of our capabilities. We can ask of you many things, Miss Syndra has eluded to your power and wealth, and your trappings speak true to that. Though asking a fish seller for fruit is a pointless task. If you know our purpose, then you know that we would seek transport, pack beasts, a caravan of supplies to make our expedition easier. So, Wakanga, who do we need to speak to in your city so we can get this search underway?"
As the group takes in the sights of the city in their walk, Oranir answers Vladimir's questions, "I'm sure there might be a way to lift the curse, yes, though I'm not yet certain of the ramifications of that course of action. You see, the actual arcane energy of the curse might be part of the very enchantment that makes the item work, there's really no telling right now how much these two weavings are intertwined. Depending on how the item was enchanted and how curse is removed, it could leave us with a completely mundane shield, or one that works how it was intended by its creator." the elf looks around, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand and obviously annoyed at the heat and gasping for air with his tongue partially out, almost like a dog... a thin, pale and creepy dog, "We can get in deeper with that, either by experimentation... on your part, or by study on my part whenever we get the chance to stop somewhere for a while in the future." by this point, the sweating elf comically sounds almost as raspy and distressed as Syndra under the hot sun of Chult.
When arriving at Wakanga's estate and being offered the washroom, Oranir rushes towards it and returns only several minutes later, a bit refreshed and soaked from the waist up. Opening his pack and grabbing the first parchment to use as a fan, the elf tries to sound as composed as possible, "Well met, Wakanga. I am Oranir Sumarath, of House Sumarath of Cormanthyr, proud servants of Coronal Ilsevele Miritar, and myself wizard apprentice of Quaryl Tellasarim." he lets all those names sink for a moment and politely bows, "You'll excuse my current state. It seems the Sun that shines on the forests of my homeland is not the same one that shines over us now, it will take me some time to adapt. You know of our task here, and possibly have a better idea of what the jungle has in store for us, any assistance your experience can share in situating this expedition and setting us off in the best direction possible will be greatly appreciated."
Walking behind Syndra, who chatters away, you're met with a barrage of exciting, new experiences. Medium and large dinosaurs are used as beasts of burden to haul two-wheeled carts, to hoist heavy loads on cranes, and to tow boats along the canals. Flowers, green plants, and vines grow everywhere, seeming to spring out of the building stones themselves. The profusion of greenery needs constant tending to prevent roots and shoots from damaging buildings or tile roofs. The city’s defensive walls and towers are topped with colorful awnings to shield guards from the sun and rain. All streets within the city walls are paved with cobblestones or flagstones, and they have deep rain gutters as much as 2 feet wide. Tabaxi minstrels wander the streets, performing for anyone who tosses them a few coins. Walls divide the city into districts, and the open archways above the streets are painted with murals of dinosaurs, mountains, and mythic heroes. Crumbling ancient buildings covered with vines and lichens indicate the city’s great age.
As Syndra begins to direct the crew through the city, Merrick continued to happily munch on his skewer and followed along. He was glad to have an experienced guide like her to lead them through this new place and blushed as she noted his sampling of the local fares. He also could finally feel a sense of relaxation now that the business involving the assault on the lich's stronghold has concluded, allowing him to more fully focus on what's to come next.
Walking past the people and beasts, merchant stalls and domiciles, canals and walkways, and other features of Port Nyanzeru, the vibrancy of life within the city began to magnetically attract itself to Merrick, though he did not realize it. As the party rounded another kiosk selling local tastes, the local behind it offered him a sampling of some sort of nut. He smiles to the local and sticks it into his mouth and begins to chew as he continues to walk. Unlike the fish and fruit, the taste was in sharp contrast and highly spicy, forcing Merrick to hold back his retching. He brings his hand up to his mouth, spits the half chewed nut back into it, and politely scrapes it off into a nearby pot.
Passing by some of the dinosaurs hauling loads, his mouth goes agape. Carefully, he pats each one he sees on the head and offers a "Hullo," drawing confused looks from their wranglers. Another merchant offers him a chance to feel some of the luxurious fabrics they're peddling, and Merrick notes the almost otherworldly smoothness of the silk as he runs his fingers through. Several kids begin to tail the party as they kick along a ball, and pass it to Merrick who deftly bounces it up onto his knee before returning the pass back to the now laughing kids. Yet another local offers him a chance to smell the freshly dried spices that her family has been selling for several generations, and Merrick summoned all his strength to avoid sneezing at the pungent yet savory aroma. The entire city seemed to focus in on Merrick, his mannerisms, stature, and actions, as he nonchalantly buzzed through the sights and sounds of the port without any acknowledgement of the crowd following the party at all.
(To DM: By this description, I would like to invoke my background feature All Eyes on Me. Merrick is a strange sight in a strange land, and I would like to try and attract other notable persons besides Merchant Prince Wakanga to take interest in the party and myself.)
"And... The home of Merchant Prince Wakanga O'tamu," she says proudly, now breathing heavily and visibly sweating in the intense heat. Before you stands a lavish villa, an airy, opulent mansion patrolled by professionally trained guards. The villa is lit, even in the morning, with continual flame spells, and soft music plays throughout, emanating out into the street. Ornate ceremonial swords are mounted on the walls.
A guard meets you at the street. His attitude is non-aggressive, but assertive. Once Syndra offers a brief introduction, he nods and two more guards escort you inside to the front hall. The space is decorated with an impressive collection of elaborate paintings, statues, murals, frescoes, tapestries, and oil lamps. Incense burns in scones, perfuming the whole space with a deliciously exotic spice.
Impressive, Merrick thought, as he took in the home of Prince Wakanga O'tamu. Unlike the residence by which Syndra and the Harpers took up, he could tell the craftspeople who constructed this palace did so with much more care and attention to detail. The theming, motifs, and ambiance all blended together in a singular harmony, one that took the natural rhythm of the port city and reverberated in much more pronounced tones to create a new experience all together.
Merrick continues to trail behind the crew, listening to them beginning to ask the important questions and chatting about the next steps. He was far too fascinated by the space and the work of its artisans to be able to pay much attention. And besides, he felt he could trust the others to say the right things while he continued to hone his own personal adventuring skills.
He closes in on an exotic and ornate ceramic vase sitting upon a plinth near a fresco in the back of the room. The vase was somewhat flanked by two of the guards standing watch near the doors leading to other areas. Merrick bends in close to get a closer look, and catches out of the corner of his eyes that both guards were staring in his direction but politely refraining from moving. He focuses back in on the vase and takes in its subtle details. At that moment, a fragment of the spices he had smelt earlier dislodges from within his nostril and catches him off guard. "Ahhh... Ehhh.. AHH-CHOO!"Merrick quickly brings up both his hands to cover his sneeze, but in doing so accidentally knocks into the vase, sending it precariously wobbling back and forth on the plinth. He once again sees the guards tense up as they hold their post, as Merrick clumsily encircles the pottery with his arms and catches it prior to the priceless piece falling to its doom. He carefully tips the vase back onto the plinth and backs away slowly. Breathing a sigh of relief, Merrick slips an embarrassed grin towards both of the guards, who both shoot him looks of stern reprimand as they remain at attention in their stations.
A refined, Chultan man in elaborate garb approaches. His beard is braided and jeweled, as are his ears, neck, and fingers. "Wakanga!" She exclaims, using his first name. She turns to the group. "Friends, I'd like you to meet Merchant Prin--"
"Call me Wakanga," he interjects. "And the pleasure is mine. Syndra has already informed me of your service to the Harpers. Quite an extraordinary story, really. Please, feel welcome to refresh yourselves in the washroom, just to the left there." At length, Wakanga leads you off to the right to a lavish sitting area. Decorative columns support the arched doorway from the entry hall. Rugs and comfortable pillows in shades of blue and purple are arranged on the floor. Narrow windows look into the garden. Immediately, two servants appear to help you to claim a seat and offer you tropical fruit, water, and an amber-colored, fermented drink made from honey.
Offering a polite bow to Wakanga, Merrick continues with the party to the sitting area. Continuing to stare in amazement at the grandeur of the palace, Merrick smiles at the offering of a washroom. The sticky syrup from the fruit and fish had become tacky on his fingertips and had gotten into all the nooks and crannies on his face. He lets the servant lead him to the washroom and is confronted by his next challenge. Unlike the unremarkable, yet efficient washrooms in the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, this one was adorned with all sorts of... well... stuff. Expertly forged metallic wash basins, flower garlands hanging from mirrors of all shapes and sizes, another servant standing tall, adorned with tribal accoutrements and holding a silver pitcher of scented water, and various other features made up the lavish washroom.
Merrick strode up to the basin and looked in puzzlement at the lack of water, soap, or drying rags nearby. He opened his mouth and raised a finger towards the servant as if to ask the obvious question, when the servant came over and began to pour the fragrant water into the basin. Seeing confusion in his eyes, the servant quickly darted his eyes towards Merrick's fingers and hands and back to the water, attempting to put the two together for the Firbolg. He eventually got it, and placed his fingers beneath the water. Once cleaned, he took his wet hands and began to rub his face, drawing a look of disgust from the servant. This disgust was further compounded as bits of the perfume from the water made its way into Merrick's mouth whilst scrubbing, causing him to involuntary gag at the repulsive taste.
Merrick finished his cleaning and wiped both hands on his tunic. The servant looked on in horror as Merrick blithely smiled to the individual, stuck his thumb into the air and said, "Erm... Thank you."
Syndra takes an especially long time to get situated. Wakanga claims a seat at the head of the room, patiently waiting for everyone to get settled. He continues. "As I am already aware of the general nature of this honored visit, won't you please tell me a little something about yourselves? How may I be of service to you during your stay in the city?"
Merrick made his way back to the others, pulling out his now empty skewer and grabbing some of the food offered by Wakanga's people. He pushed each piece of fruit, meat, and delicacy back onto the skewer, scattering crumbs and juices everywhere as he walked between the servers. This was quite a useful eating utensil, Merrick thought as he began to resume his grazing upon the grub offered by Wakanga. A servant came up and offered to pour him a cup of the fermented drink poured from yet another silvered pitcher. Feeling quite parched, Merrick smiled warmly and took the pitcher from the servant, who stared back perplexed.
He listened more closely now to the companions as he sipped the drink from the pitcher and bit into yet another fleshy bit of fruit. They were asking more good questions, and Merrick quickly found himself to be partaking much more than he was contributing. Feeling slightly panicked and ashamed at what the Masters from the monastery would think of his rudeness, Merrick swallowed his latest bite and bumbled into the conversation after Laderan and Oranir began querying Wakanga.
"Erm... Yes, and perhaps... Um, you could tell us where we could find supplies? Provisions for the, uhhh... Expedition?" Though he still found it hard to fit in with the others who were so much more confident in their adventuring skills and swagger, he felt this would be a great question to ask. The jungle was, as they were told, very dangerous and he knew from his upbringing that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.
Feeling more bold, Merrick continued "Also... Erm, the maps we were provided by Syndra. We understand there is Camp Righteous, but what about this other one here,"Merrick points the half-eaten skewer towards Camp Vengeance to the south. "Are there any other points of interest we should be... erm... interested in?"
If you know our purpose, then you know that we would seek transport, pack beasts, a caravan of supplies to make our expedition easier. So, Wakanga, who do we need to speak to in your city so we can get this search underway?"
Wakanga considers the questions. "Of course. Port Nyanzaru is famous for its markets. We have no fewer than three grand bazaars: the Red Bazaar, the Grand Souk, and the jewel market. Such is the importance of commerce to our city that our governing council is composed of seven Merchant Princes, myself included, and each of us also controls some piece of that commerce. I myself, for example, deal in knowledge, information, lost lore, potions, and scrolls."
"You must already know that the jungle is a very dangerous place, teeming with undead and, of course, dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are a point of caution, but also pride. In fact, the city hosts weekly dinosaur races through the streets. These are brightly painted racing dinosaurs, and they are fast and vicious. I do hope you will consider participating in the betting, if not the racing itself." He chuckles at the thought of tourists participating in the race.
"As to preparing for your expeditions, you should be able to find anything you would need in our various markets, or through the more private channels controlled by our Merchant Princes. There are certain items that may prove especially useful. My recommendations would include the following. First, a canoe to navigate the jungle's waterways. The sale of these are controlled by honorable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Second, insect repellent, which is controlled by esteemed Merchant Prince Kwayothé. Third, fresh drinking water will be essential, of course, and for that purpose it is wise to obtain a rain catcher, the sale of which is controlled also by venerable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Aside from these essentials, many visitors take pleasure in tej, the very drink you are enjoying now, and in acquiring a yklwa, the traditional weapon of Chultan warriors. The sale of tej is controlled also by wise Merchant Prince Kwayothé, while the sale of yklwas is overseen by respected Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa."
"If you are interested in purchasing an animal to be used as pack animal, mount, or pet, you should seek out respected Merchant Prince Ifan Talro'a."
"Finally, I strongly advise acquiring a knowledgeable guide to aid you in the jungle. Guides can be retained here in Port Nyanzaru or nearby Fort Beluarian, the headquarters of the mercenary company called the Flaming Fist. You may be familiar with them? All Port Nyanzaru guides must register and serve under the auspices of enlightened Merchant Prince Jobal. Guides working for Jobal leave their contact information on message boards outside inns and taverns or at the harbormaster’s office in Port Nyanzaru."
"And Merrick, as to Camp Righteous, I am afraid that it was destroyed by some threat from the jungle. I have heard rumors it was overrun by undead. The Order of the Gauntlet has established a new base camp called Camp Vengeance. There are doubtless many sites of interest in the jungle, and I may offer scant information about them, but my concerns are primarily focused on the commerce in this city."
Wakanga sips his tej and smiles, awaiting further questions and discussion.
Vladimir is overwhelmed. In comparison to the stately, mannered, and pristine hallways of the compound where he lived most of his life, Port Nyanzeru is full of color, noise, sweat, and people. So many people. People of different races, people of different sizes, people of different colors and cultures. And the buildings were sometimes spectacular, sometimes little more than shanties, but all were covered in richly colored cloths and paints that, to Vladimir's mind, made entirely strange combinations. The smells were assaulting him, overriding his ability to rationally consider what was going on. Sweat, perfumes, incense, chemicals, unknown spices, potions, and unguents each filled the air, creating a miasma that Vladimir was lost in. And the food! He saw Merrick eating something on a skewer; was it a lizard or a rat? For a moment, all he wanted in life was to sit in a clean, stone room, and have a bowl of the gruel he grew up on, maybe with a boiled potato for garnish. __________________________
He asked Syndra about an outpost of his order because he wanted to see if they could help him remove the curse from Oranir's shield. It sounded like it could be quite useful, if it wasn't cursed. But, if he was being honest with himself, it was also because 5 minutes into this quest, he was desperately homesick. This place was filled with so many new sights, sounds, and...wait, was that man using a giant lizard as a pack animal? This place was so far from the world he'd known; how could he hope to help anyone if he was forever being surprised by...are...are those monkeys? He'd heard of them, but never imagined. They were like furry little people. He needed to get his mind clear because this was all too much. People stood too close to you when they talked and they demanded that you buy from them and four people had asked him to come stay at their inn already. It was madness and he felt he was drowning in it. __________________________
Prince O'Tamu's palace was a welcome relief; an oasis of calm in the percolating city. But even here, things were alien. He went to the offered washroom and there was a man in there, watching him. He stared back. The man continued to stare at him. He stared back. Eventually he left, not knowing what he was supposed to do. It was at this point he made a decision; he was here with his friends and, although this would be the first time in Chult for all of them, they were much more experienced in the world than he was. He would have a talk with them before retiring tonight; he was going to trust them to introduce him to Port Nyanzeru. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't kill him. __________________________
Vladimir listened to his companions and decided to add a few questions of his own. "Prince O'Tamu, obviously we are new to this place and unaware of its many dangers. Where should we go to look for allies? Are there reliable guides that we can trust (and afford)? Also, while we are preparing to journey into the interior, are there ways we could make ourselves useful around Port Nyanzeru?"
"Strange question. How edible are dinosaurs? Do they require specific proccessing or other things? If we're going to venture-we may need to harvest on the way. Do you have anyone well versed in that we could talk to? I can't say I've ever dived into a swamp land! I lived in a valley." While they mentioned acquiring a guide, Ashtear believes it is something they should learn as well. After all.. the previous day proved how easily one can die.
"Undead. Undead. Undead. Always more of that it seems like for us! I hope there isn't another lich. ghost lord. or vampire. or zombie dinosaurs??? is that a thing!?" slamming her hands down for a moment as the thought occured to her for the first time. "Ooooh. Are dinosaur liches a thing? I don't want to see, but that would be a story." settling down a mit for a moment. "Really though. I don't suppose you know a good source of Holy Water. Or maybe even something that can produce holy water while on our journey? We had an occasion with a specter. It was... well you can guess, but we lived due to holy water. I'd love if we could bring more or something similar."
"You must already know that the jungle is a very dangerous place, teeming with undead and, of course, dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are a point of caution, but also pride. In fact, the city hosts weekly dinosaur races through the streets. These are brightly painted racing dinosaurs, and they are fast and vicious. I do hope you will consider participating in the betting, if not the racing itself." He chuckles at the thought of tourists participating in the race.
Merrick swallowed his bite and put on a puzzled expression. He interjected after Wakanga finished chuckling, "Erm... Wait, so do the people race dinosaurs as a, ummm... rite of passage?"He paused, then continued in a shy tone, "This sounds similar to the ritual my people use for ascencion to... ummm, highest ranks in the monastery." Another pause, "Erm... Can anyone participate in the races?"
"As to preparing for your expeditions, you should be able to find anything you would need in our various markets, or through the more private channels controlled by our Merchant Princes. There are certain items that may prove especially useful. My recommendations would include the following. First, a canoe to navigate the jungle's waterways. The sale of these are controlled by honorable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Second, insect repellent, which is controlled by esteemed Merchant Prince Kwayothé. Third, fresh drinking water will be essential, of course, and for that purpose it is wise to obtain a rain catcher, the sale of which is controlled also by venerable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Aside from these essentials, many visitors take pleasure in tej, the very drink you are enjoying now, and in acquiring a yklwa, the traditional weapon of Chultan warriors. The sale of tej is controlled also by wise Merchant Prince Kwayothé, while the sale of yklwas is overseen by respected Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa."
At the mention of tej, Merrick's bushy ears perked up. It was a rather delectable beverage and did well to quell the discomfort caused by the humidity throughout the port. "Erm..." he interrupted and raised a finger, "Do you, ummm... think I could get a recipe for tej? My order would definitely be interested in it."He liked the thought of himself triumphantly returning to the vintners in his monastery with an exotic recipe as spoils from his adventures.
"If you are interested in purchasing an animal to be used as pack animal, mount, or pet, you should seek out respected Merchant Prince Ifan Talro'a."
"Finally, I strongly advise acquiring a knowledgeable guide to aid you in the jungle. Guides can be retained here in Port Nyanzaru or nearby Fort Beluarian, the headquarters of the mercenary company called the Flaming Fist. You may be familiar with them? All Port Nyanzaru guides must register and serve under the auspices of enlightened Merchant Prince Jobal. Guides working for Jobal leave their contact information on message boards outside inns and taverns or at the harbormaster’s office in Port Nyanzaru."
Merrick thanked Wakanga for the generous information. This was all good to know and he was eager to continue his exploration of the city and in meeting these other princes and merchants.
As the others continued to ask their questions, Merrick pulled aside one of the servers carrying a tray of sweets. He realized in his sampling that these were simply heavenly in taste among all the other foods he tried. The sweets were yellow in color, dusted in powdered sugar, and had a taste like that of lemons and flowers. As the server bent the platter towards Merrick, he scooped up several of the Chultish Delights, as the server described them, and slipped then into one of the pouches adorning his belt. He did pop one of them into his mouth and smiled at the server as he whispered, "Erm... Best to save these for later, hm?"
"And Merrick, as to Camp Righteous, I am afraid that it was destroyed by some threat from the jungle. I have heard rumors it was overrun by undead. The Order of the Gauntlet has established a new base camp called Camp Vengeance. There are doubtless many sites of interest in the jungle, and I may offer scant information about them, but my concerns are primarily focused on the commerce in this city."
This last bit snapped Merrick back into the reality off the situation facing him and his traveling companions. Despite the entertainment he's had so far in experiencing Chultan life, he remembered now the gravity of what the Death Curse meant and their involvement towards its end. He gulped and gave Wakanga a solemn nod, silently indicating that he had asked all he needed to.
Oranir raises a finger at Ashtear, "N- no. No. Listen, a lich is a very specific kind of..." he sighes as his companion continues speculating, trying to interject but getting cut "What? Wait, no. That's absurd." pursing his lips and settling down into his chair, he rubs his temples, "Don't worry about all of that. I'll explain later." though his countenance brightens up at the mention of "holy water", "Ah, but we might have a couple of solutions for that right here, have we not?" he eyes Sayax and Vladimir in turn.
Nodding and rummaging through his sidebag to produce a quill and inkpot, the elf writes down the names and recommendations Wakanga mentions into the piece of parchment he had just been using as a fan—and soon observing them smudge all over. "Outstanding, Wakanga. That information will be crucial as we prepare to set out, which we shouldn't delay in." he nods towards Syndra and then the group, "Aside from that, have you had any interest in a foray into the jungle? Any specific dealings with guides you could mention? I'm sure if we mention your name any giant reptile will refrain from assailing us." the elf chuckles as he sets aside the quill.
(Ok, I'm just going to start with a shorter post as I was originally trying to catch up with everyone else and was getting a bit stressed out about it.)
Sayax follows the group around Chult, the oppresive heat almost too much for the heavily armored dragonborn. He sympathizes with Oranir as they head around the port, though amused by Merrick as that one is fully in their element. He tries his best not to complain, but well, he isn't perfect. He hopes they find this Soulmonger quickly as this environment is not for him. He is grateful for the maps, until he lays eyes on the one for Chult and his heart sinks. What good is a basically blank map?
His spirits rise a bit as they mention a guide. "I'm good with wherever we stay, and I don't know about you guys but we definitely need to find a guide! So.. off to Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa to get a canoe and rain catcher? Merrick, those yklwa's might be fun for you!" He looks at the group expectantly, wanting to get a move on.
Wakanga laughs at Ashtear. “Dinosaur meat is very edible, and quite delicious. The tricky part is acquiring it, of course.”
"For holy water, you may acquire it at the Hall of Gold, our temple of Waukeen, goddess of trade and wealth. As you might guess, nothing there is given for free."
“The recipe for tej! The process itself is not so complex, but the special ratio of ingredients and spices is a closely guarded secret of revered Merchant Prince Kwayothe.”
“I confess that I know relatively little of the jungle. I have rarely traveled very far beyond the city’s borders. My passions and my work keep me very well occupied within the city’s walls. I leave the adventuring and exploration to others, though readily deal in the commodities and treasures these pursuits produce. And uttering my name most certainly will not keep a hungry dinosaur at bay!” Wakanga chuckles. “Thus, I am regretfully ill informed on the details of the available guides. The work is dangerous, and the roster seems to change weekly. A more reliable source for such information would be great Merchant Prince Jobal. Though, it is difficult to find a Merchant Prince available and willing to meet with strangers. The guides themselves do post their services outside the inns and the harbormaster’s office.”
“The city is of course famous for our dinosaur racing. The beasts are painted in bright designs, and their riders try to steer them along a course that winds around the harbor and the city’s four walls. Spectators are seldom injured, but it’s a dangerous sport for the dinosaurs and their riders. Thus, it is exceedingly rare that a visitor should actually desire to participate. Yet…” Wakanga takes a long sip of tej, considering.
“You ask if I have work for you. Indeed. Chult takes great pride in our races. It is one of the few Amnish institutions we have claimed, and the sport blends strategy, brute force, and, on occasion, fortunes can be won or lost in a single race if the odds are great enough. Recently, the increasing frequency of seeming… how do you say… fluke wins has raised concerns about the integrity of the sport. This is especially so because the winning dinosaur is found dead within the tenday. I and others suspect the dramatic swing in a losing dinosaur’s performance is the result of some new substance introduced during the race. We suspect the involvement of the yuan-ti, a serpentine race from the jungles with nefarious ties to the city’s black markets. I would ask that you investigate my concerns of race fixing. The next race is the day after tomorrow. You may begin your investigation--even register to participate in the races--at the Tiryki Gate’s observation deck. Seek out Mowbula Utakulu, a friend of the Harpers, with whom I know you have an association.” He smiles at Syndra.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Oranir nods at Wakanga's words, seemingly content with what is being shared, raising one curious eyebrow at the last stretch about dinosaur racing, "Now, dinosaur racing was never our objective in Chult, but that fortune you mention would surely do nothing but help our expedition, I suppose." the elf looks at the others, trying to read their reactions, "The day after tomorrow you say? It all rests on us to weigh the investment of one extra day, risks and rewards of going down that rabbit ho..." he stares at Laderan briefly and corrects, *ahem* "that route could bring to the expedition."
Oranir looks at the group and shrugs, opening his arm, "I suppose the rest of today and tomorrow will be spent on preparation either way. Finding ourselves the equipment necessary, ..." the elf briefly brings up his parchment and looks at the smudged words written down, "securing a competent guide and doing what we need to do." he eyes the others intently, "The question is what we do with the third... Depart or check the races?" he also takes a moment to look at Syndra and try and take a read of how she's feeling about this.
Vladimir says, "I suspect that if we are able to ensure the integrity of the races, it might be easier to acquire good equipment and an excellent guide. And if these yante are interfering, we might be able to find further information about the interior from questioning them. Also, I would like to...uh...ride a dinosaur." He looks around, quite embarrassed about this last confession.
Sayax listens on and is happy to hear that two of his friends are considering assisting Wakanga with their issue. "We cannot be here and not assist with this man and town's plight! I do feel that giving us the extra time to secure what we need will only help us, at the most this would prolong our trek into the jungle half a day? It will take time to get what Wakanga suggested anyways. And maybe we can now ask around about guides instead of just reading postings."
As Wakanga continued to provide details, the confidence that his companions showed in answering the call to investigate the dinosaur races emboldened Merrick. Well, that or the tej. It was both very refreshing and very flavorful. He swashed the remaining liquid in the pitcher and estimated that a bit less than half was left. That was fast, though in his defense, he thought, he was not used to the humidity of the region. Not to mention the food he's been served was also saltier than that at the monastery. Better take another swig for good measure.
Strangely, Merrick eventually realized, he could feel a bit of numbness at the tip of his tongue. He started to explore this strange sensation in his mouth, licking the roof of his mouth and the inside of both cheeks between bites of food and gulps of tej. Seeing concerned eyes cast at him from the staff, Merrick made an attempt to remain discrete.
He decided to cast his support and join back in the discussion. Stifling a burp and taking another drink from the pitcher, he moved up, giving Oranir a hearty pat on the back. Merrick winced as he realized it landed a bit heavier than he expected. Embarrassingly avoiding confrontation afterwards with his funny elven friend, he then continued his saunter up and put arms around Sayax and Vladimir, also good friends! In fact, everyone here were good friends, even those in Wakanga's retinue that he had just met. What luck to be blessed by good friends, good fortune, and good drink!
Speaking of which, he felt rather parched again. With the pitcher being held by the arm around Sayax, he pulled his companion in close once he finished talking and drank directly from the jug rather than unwind his arm.
"Good! We are in agreement! And thank you Wakanga for the *hic!* info about Prince Kwayothe and his recipe."Merrick exclaimed as he grinned, "To aid our patron in these *hic!* ...investigations as we prepare."What a weird time for hiccups, Merrick thought. He pulled Vladimir close as well now, "Do not fret! Maybe we can *hic!* both ride one, hmm?"he smiled and expressed his deepest wisdom yet, "Better odds, no?" *hic!*
Humming to herself, having not really registered Oranir's attempted educational moment. Instead Ashtear imagines how to cook a dinosaur the best way. It was absolutely something she'd want to cook for her Father and sibling someday when she catches up. Smoking? slow roasting in a pit? Dinosteaks? A curried stew! She'd have to sample and figure out the local cuisine while they prepared.. She'd cook in the jungle but it would absolutely be more limited. Only catching back into the conversation at "riding dinosaurs" comment. "You can't ride dinner! Its for eating!" pausing a monent as Sayax's statement dawns on her and a sheepish grin, "I might be hungry. "
Having caught up, Ashtear broaches the subject from a employment point of view, "We don't want to double book here, We are on a job. but if this is something we could fit while preparing I'm fine with it. We are on a timeline but most of this might be an investigation we can do as we also prepare. Arguablly its a good method to gain information and a good cover." humming again and pondering, "Investigative points: The creatures handlers, the creatures feeds, the enviroment of the race, the racer' and their gear. If the winning dinochow is found dead that would mean the others aren't being poisoned into weakness but rather perhaps the winner is being driven by something to make them work harder? Magic, or drugs?"
Vladimir stiffens when Merrick throws his arm around him and Sayax. He was just getting used to having friends and now they were touching him. He says, “I believe some of the creatures are likely large enough” to Merrick. Noticing that Merrick’s face is pinker than normal, he says, “My friend! I believe the sun may have gotten to you. No wonder you are so wobbly. Perhaps you’d better sit down.”
He places both arms around Merrick’s chest, under the armpits, and attempts to walk/carry him to a chair. It looks a bit like they are hugging or dancing.
As Vladimir begins to lead Merrick away, the firbolg does indeed turn a shade pinker. However this was more due to the feeling of embarassment rather than a sunburn. He thought back to his nights of training with Master Rhurker. While his mentor partook generously of the blueberry wine that Merrick would smuggle him as payment, he forbid Merrick from having not even a drop before the lessons. Rhurker's voice echoed in his head, "Learning is easier when your senses are not dulled, hm?"
He let Vladimir sit him down in defeat as he realized his thirst had dismantled his defenses against the delicious fermented beverage. He put the jug beside him, and then deposited the skewer with bits of meat and fruit still dangling into it. Merrick smiled in emarassment and ran his skewer-hand through the tufts of his hair, "Erm... Sorry *hic!* about that."
He takes his hand out of his hair and places it upon Vladimir's shoulder. "You are a good *hic!* friend. I...," he pulls his hand back to catch a bit of moisture at the corner of his eye, "I am so glad you *hic!* did not die in that tower!"Merrick feels the burden of this confession lift from his chest as he tries to quietly sob and laugh, overcome by the emotions of it all.
To Vladimir:
As you look down to see where Merrick had placed his hand in naming you a good friend, you see a firbolg sized handprint in a medly of different colors resulting from the drippings from the skewer contents. Bits of dander from his hair along with some of the sugary powder that had clung to his hand from the sweets is also present. The handprint is both sticky from the fruit juices and smells of the meat spices and raw steak.
Sayax laughs as Merrick swings his arm around him, but looks a bit started as he pulls the dragonborn in closer so he can drink from the jug right in front of his face. "Well, Merrick, I uh, am glad you feel that way. You're a friend to me as well." He looks a bit relieved when Vlad takes the firbolg over to sit down. "Might want to slow down a bit on that tej, you don't want it to get the best of you!" he teases warmly.
When Ashtear starts diving deeper into the into the quandary of the dinosaur races, he looks on impressed, "Good observations! Well, looks like we're already trying to figure it out Wakanga! Shall we head over to where the races take place to see if we can garner any more information?" he pauses, almost not admitting.. "And I am really looking forward to seeing the actual races!!"
Laderan listens intently at Wakanga's request. Though he wouldn't want to admit it within earshot of too many people, he was overly familiar with carnival scams and the rigging of such events that could be used for the purposes of gambling - which in his experience was just about anything. Another kick of how, all at the same time, this strange port was so familiar and yet so different to places from his past. Maybe that was a casualty of seeing so many places, everywhere had at least something similar to somewhere else, which had a similarity again to another location, which had a stark difference to somewhere else, and that place would share that same difference with another completely separate place. All in all, he realised that it was probably easier to just keep track of places on their own merits.
Ashtear's houghts were a fair summary, she'd missed out the most obvious starting point though... "Err, Ashtear, those are all great but there is probably a better place to start looking. I know that, hypothetically speaking, were I to try and cheat at something and that something had large sums of money involved, I'd want to see a return on my efforts. Start by looking at who's taking home winnings from these 'flukes'." His ears rubbed together again as he stroked his chin and twisted his mouth and brow closer together, creating an overly scrunched appearance to his face, "Then of course there are the local thieves gangs. Most big cities will have something running local crime, now it could be they are behind it, or that this is an unwanted interloper. Either way they'll have an interest in this and information we could use."
He pauses in his musing to look to Syndra, "We're here on your clock Miss Syndra, like Ashtears says we don't want to get double booked but if helping Wakanga would be in your interests..." He left the sentence hanging, it seemed inappropriate to finish with his intended 'if you don't die before we can find the Soulmonger' . These high up folk always seemed to have plans for the future and their currency was more often favours than coin. It didn't make sense to Laderan at all, as surely they could just pay each other for the work they did rather than this awkward exchange of services with entirely intangible values. He realised that he was extending the silence without any real purpose now, so quickly concluded his point, "We could make inroads in this until we're ready to depart and then make a call one departure once we know more? In the mean time, if we're to look into the dinos maybe splitting up would cover more baes in the time we have?"
Syndra has been silent during the conversation with Wakanga. When addressed, she takes a deep, rattling breath. "Dears, my years of adventuring have taught me that there is rarely a single correct path to reach a goal. Were the path straight and wide, we would fast be out of work for the masses of those able to pursue the lifestyle. More often, we face a maze of choices. I remind you that we have no idea where the Soulmonger is located. Any route of investigation is a valid one. I support your decisions here."
Ornir's Insight results:
Syndra seems sincere in her words, and doesn't indicate a preference whether to begin your investigation within the city or traipsing through the jungle.
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As the group walk through the Reb Bazaar, Laderan's gaze is drawn all over. He flits between stalls and passes quick conversations with hawkers and vendors, each one proclaiming their wares to be the best in the land. Several times he has to dash to catch up with the group when he can't escape from an over eager merchant's sales pitch, or some exotic token catches his eye. "Lotsa stuff here, these di-no-sores, they seem to provide a lot of the material for goods. Not seen many lizards as big as these. Hope they are placid enough, I mean, even a cart horse can cause trouble when spooked. Imagine the damage one of those things would do running amok!" As the group continue Laderan keeps his eyes out for beggars and roughly dressed children, aware that pick pockets are rife in such places. With his small purse carrying a heavier than normal weight he ensures it is safely tucked inside the folds of his clothing, so that no quick slice of a knife blade will separate him from his earnings.
As Syndra points out the more colourful Grand Souk, Laderan's ears start to twitch. The vibrancy of the place was much more akin to his homeland, and it made him pause for a moment. Maybe this place wasn't all that bad, the prospect of a death curse originating from some evil in the area was clearly not something that hampered the goings on here, in fact so many people seemed pre-occupied with their own affairs that he could almost forget their reason for being here, were he so inclined. As he mulls over that though, they encounter the guards and his curiosity fades, his demeanour a little more guarded. Through his travels he had met with all too many city militia or whatever organisation deemed it their remit to uphold some written rubbish about what good folk could and couldn't do; though he had to admit there were exceptions for the most part his vagrancy was looked down upon and thus Laderan's experiences with such individuals had left him with a decided negative impression of guard and their ilk. He avoids making eye contact as they walk onwards, keeping his gaze ahead and hoping for... Well he didn't really know what for; he was here with a perfectly justifiable reason and a respectable escort, heading to meet with an important person. It was a completely alien situation for him even if the sites and sounds were otherwise so familiar.
Laderan declines the washroom, his fur was still fresh and he saw no need to delay the proceedings, though he was certin that Vladimir would partake of the facilities - even if just to see whether the local standards met with his own. At the request from Wakanga to share their needs, Laderan steps forwards and speaks his mind, "We could really do with a cure to the death curse if you have one lying around? It'd save us a lot of time and effort." "No? Well, had to ask. You probably know that we were hand picked to obtain the vital information that has led us this far. Which for a group that has less than a ten-day of time working together should itself speak volumes of our capabilities. We can ask of you many things, Miss Syndra has eluded to your power and wealth, and your trappings speak true to that. Though asking a fish seller for fruit is a pointless task. If you know our purpose, then you know that we would seek transport, pack beasts, a caravan of supplies to make our expedition easier. So, Wakanga, who do we need to speak to in your city so we can get this search underway?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
As the group takes in the sights of the city in their walk, Oranir answers Vladimir's questions, "I'm sure there might be a way to lift the curse, yes, though I'm not yet certain of the ramifications of that course of action. You see, the actual arcane energy of the curse might be part of the very enchantment that makes the item work, there's really no telling right now how much these two weavings are intertwined. Depending on how the item was enchanted and how curse is removed, it could leave us with a completely mundane shield, or one that works how it was intended by its creator." the elf looks around, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand and obviously annoyed at the heat and gasping for air with his tongue partially out, almost like a dog... a thin, pale and creepy dog, "We can get in deeper with that, either by experimentation... on your part, or by study on my part whenever we get the chance to stop somewhere for a while in the future." by this point, the sweating elf comically sounds almost as raspy and distressed as Syndra under the hot sun of Chult.
When arriving at Wakanga's estate and being offered the washroom, Oranir rushes towards it and returns only several minutes later, a bit refreshed and soaked from the waist up. Opening his pack and grabbing the first parchment to use as a fan, the elf tries to sound as composed as possible, "Well met, Wakanga. I am Oranir Sumarath, of House Sumarath of Cormanthyr, proud servants of Coronal Ilsevele Miritar, and myself wizard apprentice of Quaryl Tellasarim." he lets all those names sink for a moment and politely bows, "You'll excuse my current state. It seems the Sun that shines on the forests of my homeland is not the same one that shines over us now, it will take me some time to adapt. You know of our task here, and possibly have a better idea of what the jungle has in store for us, any assistance your experience can share in situating this expedition and setting us off in the best direction possible will be greatly appreciated."
Art Portfolio
Walking behind Syndra, who chatters away, you're met with a barrage of exciting, new experiences. Medium and large dinosaurs are used as beasts of burden to haul two-wheeled carts, to hoist heavy loads on cranes, and to tow boats along the canals. Flowers, green plants, and vines grow everywhere, seeming to spring out of the building stones themselves. The profusion of greenery needs constant tending to prevent roots and shoots from damaging buildings or tile roofs. The city’s defensive walls and towers are topped with colorful awnings to shield guards from the sun and rain. All streets within the city walls are paved with cobblestones or flagstones, and they have deep rain gutters as much as 2 feet wide. Tabaxi minstrels wander the streets, performing for anyone who tosses them a few coins. Walls divide the city into districts, and the open archways above the streets are painted with murals of dinosaurs, mountains, and mythic heroes. Crumbling ancient buildings covered with vines and lichens indicate the city’s great age.
As Syndra begins to direct the crew through the city, Merrick continued to happily munch on his skewer and followed along. He was glad to have an experienced guide like her to lead them through this new place and blushed as she noted his sampling of the local fares. He also could finally feel a sense of relaxation now that the business involving the assault on the lich's stronghold has concluded, allowing him to more fully focus on what's to come next.
Walking past the people and beasts, merchant stalls and domiciles, canals and walkways, and other features of Port Nyanzeru, the vibrancy of life within the city began to magnetically attract itself to Merrick, though he did not realize it. As the party rounded another kiosk selling local tastes, the local behind it offered him a sampling of some sort of nut. He smiles to the local and sticks it into his mouth and begins to chew as he continues to walk. Unlike the fish and fruit, the taste was in sharp contrast and highly spicy, forcing Merrick to hold back his retching. He brings his hand up to his mouth, spits the half chewed nut back into it, and politely scrapes it off into a nearby pot.
Passing by some of the dinosaurs hauling loads, his mouth goes agape. Carefully, he pats each one he sees on the head and offers a "Hullo," drawing confused looks from their wranglers. Another merchant offers him a chance to feel some of the luxurious fabrics they're peddling, and Merrick notes the almost otherworldly smoothness of the silk as he runs his fingers through. Several kids begin to tail the party as they kick along a ball, and pass it to Merrick who deftly bounces it up onto his knee before returning the pass back to the now laughing kids. Yet another local offers him a chance to smell the freshly dried spices that her family has been selling for several generations, and Merrick summoned all his strength to avoid sneezing at the pungent yet savory aroma. The entire city seemed to focus in on Merrick, his mannerisms, stature, and actions, as he nonchalantly buzzed through the sights and sounds of the port without any acknowledgement of the crowd following the party at all.
(To DM: By this description, I would like to invoke my background feature All Eyes on Me. Merrick is a strange sight in a strange land, and I would like to try and attract other notable persons besides Merchant Prince Wakanga to take interest in the party and myself.)
"And... The home of Merchant Prince Wakanga O'tamu," she says proudly, now breathing heavily and visibly sweating in the intense heat. Before you stands a lavish villa, an airy, opulent mansion patrolled by professionally trained guards. The villa is lit, even in the morning, with continual flame spells, and soft music plays throughout, emanating out into the street. Ornate ceremonial swords are mounted on the walls.
A guard meets you at the street. His attitude is non-aggressive, but assertive. Once Syndra offers a brief introduction, he nods and two more guards escort you inside to the front hall. The space is decorated with an impressive collection of elaborate paintings, statues, murals, frescoes, tapestries, and oil lamps. Incense burns in scones, perfuming the whole space with a deliciously exotic spice.
Impressive, Merrick thought, as he took in the home of Prince Wakanga O'tamu. Unlike the residence by which Syndra and the Harpers took up, he could tell the craftspeople who constructed this palace did so with much more care and attention to detail. The theming, motifs, and ambiance all blended together in a singular harmony, one that took the natural rhythm of the port city and reverberated in much more pronounced tones to create a new experience all together.
Merrick continues to trail behind the crew, listening to them beginning to ask the important questions and chatting about the next steps. He was far too fascinated by the space and the work of its artisans to be able to pay much attention. And besides, he felt he could trust the others to say the right things while he continued to hone his own personal adventuring skills.
He closes in on an exotic and ornate ceramic vase sitting upon a plinth near a fresco in the back of the room. The vase was somewhat flanked by two of the guards standing watch near the doors leading to other areas. Merrick bends in close to get a closer look, and catches out of the corner of his eyes that both guards were staring in his direction but politely refraining from moving. He focuses back in on the vase and takes in its subtle details. At that moment, a fragment of the spices he had smelt earlier dislodges from within his nostril and catches him off guard. "Ahhh... Ehhh.. AHH-CHOO!" Merrick quickly brings up both his hands to cover his sneeze, but in doing so accidentally knocks into the vase, sending it precariously wobbling back and forth on the plinth. He once again sees the guards tense up as they hold their post, as Merrick clumsily encircles the pottery with his arms and catches it prior to the priceless piece falling to its doom. He carefully tips the vase back onto the plinth and backs away slowly. Breathing a sigh of relief, Merrick slips an embarrassed grin towards both of the guards, who both shoot him looks of stern reprimand as they remain at attention in their stations.
A refined, Chultan man in elaborate garb approaches. His beard is braided and jeweled, as are his ears, neck, and fingers. "Wakanga!" She exclaims, using his first name. She turns to the group. "Friends, I'd like you to meet Merchant Prin--"
"Call me Wakanga," he interjects. "And the pleasure is mine. Syndra has already informed me of your service to the Harpers. Quite an extraordinary story, really. Please, feel welcome to refresh yourselves in the washroom, just to the left there." At length, Wakanga leads you off to the right to a lavish sitting area. Decorative columns support the arched doorway from the entry hall. Rugs and comfortable pillows in shades of blue and purple are arranged on the floor. Narrow windows look into the garden. Immediately, two servants appear to help you to claim a seat and offer you tropical fruit, water, and an amber-colored, fermented drink made from honey.
Offering a polite bow to Wakanga, Merrick continues with the party to the sitting area. Continuing to stare in amazement at the grandeur of the palace, Merrick smiles at the offering of a washroom. The sticky syrup from the fruit and fish had become tacky on his fingertips and had gotten into all the nooks and crannies on his face. He lets the servant lead him to the washroom and is confronted by his next challenge. Unlike the unremarkable, yet efficient washrooms in the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, this one was adorned with all sorts of... well... stuff. Expertly forged metallic wash basins, flower garlands hanging from mirrors of all shapes and sizes, another servant standing tall, adorned with tribal accoutrements and holding a silver pitcher of scented water, and various other features made up the lavish washroom.
Merrick strode up to the basin and looked in puzzlement at the lack of water, soap, or drying rags nearby. He opened his mouth and raised a finger towards the servant as if to ask the obvious question, when the servant came over and began to pour the fragrant water into the basin. Seeing confusion in his eyes, the servant quickly darted his eyes towards Merrick's fingers and hands and back to the water, attempting to put the two together for the Firbolg. He eventually got it, and placed his fingers beneath the water. Once cleaned, he took his wet hands and began to rub his face, drawing a look of disgust from the servant. This disgust was further compounded as bits of the perfume from the water made its way into Merrick's mouth whilst scrubbing, causing him to involuntary gag at the repulsive taste.
Merrick finished his cleaning and wiped both hands on his tunic. The servant looked on in horror as Merrick blithely smiled to the individual, stuck his thumb into the air and said, "Erm... Thank you."
Syndra takes an especially long time to get situated. Wakanga claims a seat at the head of the room, patiently waiting for everyone to get settled. He continues. "As I am already aware of the general nature of this honored visit, won't you please tell me a little something about yourselves? How may I be of service to you during your stay in the city?"
Merrick made his way back to the others, pulling out his now empty skewer and grabbing some of the food offered by Wakanga's people. He pushed each piece of fruit, meat, and delicacy back onto the skewer, scattering crumbs and juices everywhere as he walked between the servers. This was quite a useful eating utensil, Merrick thought as he began to resume his grazing upon the grub offered by Wakanga. A servant came up and offered to pour him a cup of the fermented drink poured from yet another silvered pitcher. Feeling quite parched, Merrick smiled warmly and took the pitcher from the servant, who stared back perplexed.
He listened more closely now to the companions as he sipped the drink from the pitcher and bit into yet another fleshy bit of fruit. They were asking more good questions, and Merrick quickly found himself to be partaking much more than he was contributing. Feeling slightly panicked and ashamed at what the Masters from the monastery would think of his rudeness, Merrick swallowed his latest bite and bumbled into the conversation after Laderan and Oranir began querying Wakanga.
"Erm... Yes, and perhaps... Um, you could tell us where we could find supplies? Provisions for the, uhhh... Expedition?" Though he still found it hard to fit in with the others who were so much more confident in their adventuring skills and swagger, he felt this would be a great question to ask. The jungle was, as they were told, very dangerous and he knew from his upbringing that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.
Feeling more bold, Merrick continued "Also... Erm, the maps we were provided by Syndra. We understand there is Camp Righteous, but what about this other one here," Merrick points the half-eaten skewer towards Camp Vengeance to the south. "Are there any other points of interest we should be... erm... interested in?"
Wakanga considers the questions. "Of course. Port Nyanzaru is famous for its markets. We have no fewer than three grand bazaars: the Red Bazaar, the Grand Souk, and the jewel market. Such is the importance of commerce to our city that our governing council is composed of seven Merchant Princes, myself included, and each of us also controls some piece of that commerce. I myself, for example, deal in knowledge, information, lost lore, potions, and scrolls."
"You must already know that the jungle is a very dangerous place, teeming with undead and, of course, dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are a point of caution, but also pride. In fact, the city hosts weekly dinosaur races through the streets. These are brightly painted racing dinosaurs, and they are fast and vicious. I do hope you will consider participating in the betting, if not the racing itself." He chuckles at the thought of tourists participating in the race.
"As to preparing for your expeditions, you should be able to find anything you would need in our various markets, or through the more private channels controlled by our Merchant Princes. There are certain items that may prove especially useful. My recommendations would include the following. First, a canoe to navigate the jungle's waterways. The sale of these are controlled by honorable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Second, insect repellent, which is controlled by esteemed Merchant Prince Kwayothé. Third, fresh drinking water will be essential, of course, and for that purpose it is wise to obtain a rain catcher, the sale of which is controlled also by venerable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Aside from these essentials, many visitors take pleasure in tej, the very drink you are enjoying now, and in acquiring a yklwa, the traditional weapon of Chultan warriors. The sale of tej is controlled also by wise Merchant Prince Kwayothé, while the sale of yklwas is overseen by respected Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa."
"If you are interested in purchasing an animal to be used as pack animal, mount, or pet, you should seek out respected Merchant Prince Ifan Talro'a."
"Finally, I strongly advise acquiring a knowledgeable guide to aid you in the jungle. Guides can be retained here in Port Nyanzaru or nearby Fort Beluarian, the headquarters of the mercenary company called the Flaming Fist. You may be familiar with them? All Port Nyanzaru guides must register and serve under the auspices of enlightened Merchant Prince Jobal. Guides working for Jobal leave their contact information on message boards outside inns and taverns or at the harbormaster’s office in Port Nyanzaru."
"And Merrick, as to Camp Righteous, I am afraid that it was destroyed by some threat from the jungle. I have heard rumors it was overrun by undead. The Order of the Gauntlet has established a new base camp called Camp Vengeance. There are doubtless many sites of interest in the jungle, and I may offer scant information about them, but my concerns are primarily focused on the commerce in this city."
Wakanga sips his tej and smiles, awaiting further questions and discussion.
Vladimir is overwhelmed. In comparison to the stately, mannered, and pristine hallways of the compound where he lived most of his life, Port Nyanzeru is full of color, noise, sweat, and people. So many people. People of different races, people of different sizes, people of different colors and cultures. And the buildings were sometimes spectacular, sometimes little more than shanties, but all were covered in richly colored cloths and paints that, to Vladimir's mind, made entirely strange combinations. The smells were assaulting him, overriding his ability to rationally consider what was going on. Sweat, perfumes, incense, chemicals, unknown spices, potions, and unguents each filled the air, creating a miasma that Vladimir was lost in. And the food! He saw Merrick eating something on a skewer; was it a lizard or a rat? For a moment, all he wanted in life was to sit in a clean, stone room, and have a bowl of the gruel he grew up on, maybe with a boiled potato for garnish.
__________________________
He asked Syndra about an outpost of his order because he wanted to see if they could help him remove the curse from Oranir's shield. It sounded like it could be quite useful, if it wasn't cursed. But, if he was being honest with himself, it was also because 5 minutes into this quest, he was desperately homesick. This place was filled with so many new sights, sounds, and...wait, was that man using a giant lizard as a pack animal? This place was so far from the world he'd known; how could he hope to help anyone if he was forever being surprised by...are...are those monkeys? He'd heard of them, but never imagined. They were like furry little people. He needed to get his mind clear because this was all too much. People stood too close to you when they talked and they demanded that you buy from them and four people had asked him to come stay at their inn already. It was madness and he felt he was drowning in it.
__________________________
Prince O'Tamu's palace was a welcome relief; an oasis of calm in the percolating city. But even here, things were alien. He went to the offered washroom and there was a man in there, watching him. He stared back. The man continued to stare at him. He stared back. Eventually he left, not knowing what he was supposed to do. It was at this point he made a decision; he was here with his friends and, although this would be the first time in Chult for all of them, they were much more experienced in the world than he was. He would have a talk with them before retiring tonight; he was going to trust them to introduce him to Port Nyanzeru. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't kill him.
__________________________
Vladimir listened to his companions and decided to add a few questions of his own. "Prince O'Tamu, obviously we are new to this place and unaware of its many dangers. Where should we go to look for allies? Are there reliable guides that we can trust (and afford)? Also, while we are preparing to journey into the interior, are there ways we could make ourselves useful around Port Nyanzeru?"
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
"Strange question. How edible are dinosaurs? Do they require specific proccessing or other things? If we're going to venture-we may need to harvest on the way. Do you have anyone well versed in that we could talk to? I can't say I've ever dived into a swamp land! I lived in a valley." While they mentioned acquiring a guide, Ashtear believes it is something they should learn as well. After all.. the previous day proved how easily one can die.
"Undead. Undead. Undead. Always more of that it seems like for us! I hope there isn't another lich. ghost lord. or vampire. or zombie dinosaurs??? is that a thing!?" slamming her hands down for a moment as the thought occured to her for the first time. "Ooooh. Are dinosaur liches a thing? I don't want to see, but that would be a story." settling down a mit for a moment. "Really though. I don't suppose you know a good source of Holy Water. Or maybe even something that can produce holy water while on our journey? We had an occasion with a specter. It was... well you can guess, but we lived due to holy water. I'd love if we could bring more or something similar."
"You must already know that the jungle is a very dangerous place, teeming with undead and, of course, dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are a point of caution, but also pride. In fact, the city hosts weekly dinosaur races through the streets. These are brightly painted racing dinosaurs, and they are fast and vicious. I do hope you will consider participating in the betting, if not the racing itself." He chuckles at the thought of tourists participating in the race.
Merrick swallowed his bite and put on a puzzled expression. He interjected after Wakanga finished chuckling, "Erm... Wait, so do the people race dinosaurs as a, ummm... rite of passage?" He paused, then continued in a shy tone, "This sounds similar to the ritual my people use for ascencion to... ummm, highest ranks in the monastery." Another pause, "Erm... Can anyone participate in the races?"
"As to preparing for your expeditions, you should be able to find anything you would need in our various markets, or through the more private channels controlled by our Merchant Princes. There are certain items that may prove especially useful. My recommendations would include the following. First, a canoe to navigate the jungle's waterways. The sale of these are controlled by honorable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Second, insect repellent, which is controlled by esteemed Merchant Prince Kwayothé. Third, fresh drinking water will be essential, of course, and for that purpose it is wise to obtain a rain catcher, the sale of which is controlled also by venerable Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa. Aside from these essentials, many visitors take pleasure in tej, the very drink you are enjoying now, and in acquiring a yklwa, the traditional weapon of Chultan warriors. The sale of tej is controlled also by wise Merchant Prince Kwayothé, while the sale of yklwas is overseen by respected Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa."
At the mention of tej, Merrick's bushy ears perked up. It was a rather delectable beverage and did well to quell the discomfort caused by the humidity throughout the port. "Erm..." he interrupted and raised a finger, "Do you, ummm... think I could get a recipe for tej? My order would definitely be interested in it." He liked the thought of himself triumphantly returning to the vintners in his monastery with an exotic recipe as spoils from his adventures.
"If you are interested in purchasing an animal to be used as pack animal, mount, or pet, you should seek out respected Merchant Prince Ifan Talro'a."
"Finally, I strongly advise acquiring a knowledgeable guide to aid you in the jungle. Guides can be retained here in Port Nyanzaru or nearby Fort Beluarian, the headquarters of the mercenary company called the Flaming Fist. You may be familiar with them? All Port Nyanzaru guides must register and serve under the auspices of enlightened Merchant Prince Jobal. Guides working for Jobal leave their contact information on message boards outside inns and taverns or at the harbormaster’s office in Port Nyanzaru."
Merrick thanked Wakanga for the generous information. This was all good to know and he was eager to continue his exploration of the city and in meeting these other princes and merchants.
As the others continued to ask their questions, Merrick pulled aside one of the servers carrying a tray of sweets. He realized in his sampling that these were simply heavenly in taste among all the other foods he tried. The sweets were yellow in color, dusted in powdered sugar, and had a taste like that of lemons and flowers. As the server bent the platter towards Merrick, he scooped up several of the Chultish Delights, as the server described them, and slipped then into one of the pouches adorning his belt. He did pop one of them into his mouth and smiled at the server as he whispered, "Erm... Best to save these for later, hm?"
"And Merrick, as to Camp Righteous, I am afraid that it was destroyed by some threat from the jungle. I have heard rumors it was overrun by undead. The Order of the Gauntlet has established a new base camp called Camp Vengeance. There are doubtless many sites of interest in the jungle, and I may offer scant information about them, but my concerns are primarily focused on the commerce in this city."
This last bit snapped Merrick back into the reality off the situation facing him and his traveling companions. Despite the entertainment he's had so far in experiencing Chultan life, he remembered now the gravity of what the Death Curse meant and their involvement towards its end. He gulped and gave Wakanga a solemn nod, silently indicating that he had asked all he needed to.
Oranir raises a finger at Ashtear, "N- no. No. Listen, a lich is a very specific kind of..." he sighes as his companion continues speculating, trying to interject but getting cut "What? Wait, no. That's absurd." pursing his lips and settling down into his chair, he rubs his temples, "Don't worry about all of that. I'll explain later." though his countenance brightens up at the mention of "holy water", "Ah, but we might have a couple of solutions for that right here, have we not?" he eyes Sayax and Vladimir in turn.
Nodding and rummaging through his sidebag to produce a quill and inkpot, the elf writes down the names and recommendations Wakanga mentions into the piece of parchment he had just been using as a fan—and soon observing them smudge all over. "Outstanding, Wakanga. That information will be crucial as we prepare to set out, which we shouldn't delay in." he nods towards Syndra and then the group, "Aside from that, have you had any interest in a foray into the jungle? Any specific dealings with guides you could mention? I'm sure if we mention your name any giant reptile will refrain from assailing us." the elf chuckles as he sets aside the quill.
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(Ok, I'm just going to start with a shorter post as I was originally trying to catch up with everyone else and was getting a bit stressed out about it.)
Sayax follows the group around Chult, the oppresive heat almost too much for the heavily armored dragonborn. He sympathizes with Oranir as they head around the port, though amused by Merrick as that one is fully in their element. He tries his best not to complain, but well, he isn't perfect. He hopes they find this Soulmonger quickly as this environment is not for him. He is grateful for the maps, until he lays eyes on the one for Chult and his heart sinks. What good is a basically blank map?
His spirits rise a bit as they mention a guide. "I'm good with wherever we stay, and I don't know about you guys but we definitely need to find a guide! So.. off to Merchant Prince Ekene-Afa to get a canoe and rain catcher? Merrick, those yklwa's might be fun for you!" He looks at the group expectantly, wanting to get a move on.
Wakanga laughs at Ashtear. “Dinosaur meat is very edible, and quite delicious. The tricky part is acquiring it, of course.”
"For holy water, you may acquire it at the Hall of Gold, our temple of Waukeen, goddess of trade and wealth. As you might guess, nothing there is given for free."
“The recipe for tej! The process itself is not so complex, but the special ratio of ingredients and spices is a closely guarded secret of revered Merchant Prince Kwayothe.”
“I confess that I know relatively little of the jungle. I have rarely traveled very far beyond the city’s borders. My passions and my work keep me very well occupied within the city’s walls. I leave the adventuring and exploration to others, though readily deal in the commodities and treasures these pursuits produce. And uttering my name most certainly will not keep a hungry dinosaur at bay!” Wakanga chuckles. “Thus, I am regretfully ill informed on the details of the available guides. The work is dangerous, and the roster seems to change weekly. A more reliable source for such information would be great Merchant Prince Jobal. Though, it is difficult to find a Merchant Prince available and willing to meet with strangers. The guides themselves do post their services outside the inns and the harbormaster’s office.”
“The city is of course famous for our dinosaur racing. The beasts are painted in bright designs, and their riders try to steer them along a course that winds around the harbor and the city’s four walls. Spectators are seldom injured, but it’s a dangerous sport for the dinosaurs and their riders. Thus, it is exceedingly rare that a visitor should actually desire to participate. Yet…” Wakanga takes a long sip of tej, considering.
“You ask if I have work for you. Indeed. Chult takes great pride in our races. It is one of the few Amnish institutions we have claimed, and the sport blends strategy, brute force, and, on occasion, fortunes can be won or lost in a single race if the odds are great enough. Recently, the increasing frequency of seeming… how do you say… fluke wins has raised concerns about the integrity of the sport. This is especially so because the winning dinosaur is found dead within the tenday. I and others suspect the dramatic swing in a losing dinosaur’s performance is the result of some new substance introduced during the race. We suspect the involvement of the yuan-ti, a serpentine race from the jungles with nefarious ties to the city’s black markets. I would ask that you investigate my concerns of race fixing. The next race is the day after tomorrow. You may begin your investigation--even register to participate in the races--at the Tiryki Gate’s observation deck. Seek out Mowbula Utakulu, a friend of the Harpers, with whom I know you have an association.” He smiles at Syndra.
Oranir nods at Wakanga's words, seemingly content with what is being shared, raising one curious eyebrow at the last stretch about dinosaur racing, "Now, dinosaur racing was never our objective in Chult, but that fortune you mention would surely do nothing but help our expedition, I suppose." the elf looks at the others, trying to read their reactions, "The day after tomorrow you say? It all rests on us to weigh the investment of one extra day, risks and rewards of going down that rabbit ho..." he stares at Laderan briefly and corrects, *ahem* "that route could bring to the expedition."
Oranir looks at the group and shrugs, opening his arm, "I suppose the rest of today and tomorrow will be spent on preparation either way. Finding ourselves the equipment necessary, ..." the elf briefly brings up his parchment and looks at the smudged words written down, "securing a competent guide and doing what we need to do." he eyes the others intently, "The question is what we do with the third... Depart or check the races?" he also takes a moment to look at Syndra and try and take a read of how she's feeling about this.
((Insight, if needed 16))
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Vladimir says, "I suspect that if we are able to ensure the integrity of the races, it might be easier to acquire good equipment and an excellent guide. And if these yante are interfering, we might be able to find further information about the interior from questioning them. Also, I would like to...uh...ride a dinosaur." He looks around, quite embarrassed about this last confession.
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Sayax listens on and is happy to hear that two of his friends are considering assisting Wakanga with their issue. "We cannot be here and not assist with this man and town's plight! I do feel that giving us the extra time to secure what we need will only help us, at the most this would prolong our trek into the jungle half a day? It will take time to get what Wakanga suggested anyways. And maybe we can now ask around about guides instead of just reading postings."
As Wakanga continued to provide details, the confidence that his companions showed in answering the call to investigate the dinosaur races emboldened Merrick. Well, that or the tej. It was both very refreshing and very flavorful. He swashed the remaining liquid in the pitcher and estimated that a bit less than half was left. That was fast, though in his defense, he thought, he was not used to the humidity of the region. Not to mention the food he's been served was also saltier than that at the monastery. Better take another swig for good measure.
Strangely, Merrick eventually realized, he could feel a bit of numbness at the tip of his tongue. He started to explore this strange sensation in his mouth, licking the roof of his mouth and the inside of both cheeks between bites of food and gulps of tej. Seeing concerned eyes cast at him from the staff, Merrick made an attempt to remain discrete.
He decided to cast his support and join back in the discussion. Stifling a burp and taking another drink from the pitcher, he moved up, giving Oranir a hearty pat on the back. Merrick winced as he realized it landed a bit heavier than he expected. Embarrassingly avoiding confrontation afterwards with his funny elven friend, he then continued his saunter up and put arms around Sayax and Vladimir, also good friends! In fact, everyone here were good friends, even those in Wakanga's retinue that he had just met. What luck to be blessed by good friends, good fortune, and good drink!
Speaking of which, he felt rather parched again. With the pitcher being held by the arm around Sayax, he pulled his companion in close once he finished talking and drank directly from the jug rather than unwind his arm.
"Good! We are in agreement! And thank you Wakanga for the *hic!* info about Prince Kwayothe and his recipe." Merrick exclaimed as he grinned, "To aid our patron in these *hic!* ...investigations as we prepare." What a weird time for hiccups, Merrick thought. He pulled Vladimir close as well now, "Do not fret! Maybe we can *hic!* both ride one, hmm?" he smiled and expressed his deepest wisdom yet, "Better odds, no?" *hic!*
Humming to herself, having not really registered Oranir's attempted educational moment. Instead Ashtear imagines how to cook a dinosaur the best way. It was absolutely something she'd want to cook for her Father and sibling someday when she catches up. Smoking? slow roasting in a pit? Dinosteaks? A curried stew! She'd have to sample and figure out the local cuisine while they prepared.. She'd cook in the jungle but it would absolutely be more limited. Only catching back into the conversation at "riding dinosaurs" comment.
"You can't ride dinner! Its for eating!" pausing a monent as Sayax's statement dawns on her and a sheepish grin, "I might be hungry. "
Having caught up, Ashtear broaches the subject from a employment point of view, "We don't want to double book here, We are on a job. but if this is something we could fit while preparing I'm fine with it. We are on a timeline but most of this might be an investigation we can do as we also prepare. Arguablly its a good method to gain information and a good cover." humming again and pondering, "Investigative points: The creatures handlers, the creatures feeds, the enviroment of the race, the racer' and their gear. If the winning dinochow is found dead that would mean the others aren't being poisoned into weakness but rather perhaps the winner is being driven by something to make them work harder? Magic, or drugs?"
Vladimir stiffens when Merrick throws his arm around him and Sayax. He was just getting used to having friends and now they were touching him. He says, “I believe some of the creatures are likely large enough” to Merrick. Noticing that Merrick’s face is pinker than normal, he says, “My friend! I believe the sun may have gotten to you. No wonder you are so wobbly. Perhaps you’d better sit down.”
He places both arms around Merrick’s chest, under the armpits, and attempts to walk/carry him to a chair. It looks a bit like they are hugging or dancing.
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
As Vladimir begins to lead Merrick away, the firbolg does indeed turn a shade pinker. However this was more due to the feeling of embarassment rather than a sunburn. He thought back to his nights of training with Master Rhurker. While his mentor partook generously of the blueberry wine that Merrick would smuggle him as payment, he forbid Merrick from having not even a drop before the lessons. Rhurker's voice echoed in his head, "Learning is easier when your senses are not dulled, hm?"
He let Vladimir sit him down in defeat as he realized his thirst had dismantled his defenses against the delicious fermented beverage. He put the jug beside him, and then deposited the skewer with bits of meat and fruit still dangling into it. Merrick smiled in emarassment and ran his skewer-hand through the tufts of his hair, "Erm... Sorry *hic!* about that."
He takes his hand out of his hair and places it upon Vladimir's shoulder. "You are a good *hic!* friend. I...," he pulls his hand back to catch a bit of moisture at the corner of his eye, "I am so glad you *hic!* did not die in that tower!" Merrick feels the burden of this confession lift from his chest as he tries to quietly sob and laugh, overcome by the emotions of it all.
To Vladimir:
As you look down to see where Merrick had placed his hand in naming you a good friend, you see a firbolg sized handprint in a medly of different colors resulting from the drippings from the skewer contents. Bits of dander from his hair along with some of the sugary powder that had clung to his hand from the sweets is also present. The handprint is both sticky from the fruit juices and smells of the meat spices and raw steak.
Sayax laughs as Merrick swings his arm around him, but looks a bit started as he pulls the dragonborn in closer so he can drink from the jug right in front of his face. "Well, Merrick, I uh, am glad you feel that way. You're a friend to me as well." He looks a bit relieved when Vlad takes the firbolg over to sit down. "Might want to slow down a bit on that tej, you don't want it to get the best of you!" he teases warmly.
When Ashtear starts diving deeper into the into the quandary of the dinosaur races, he looks on impressed, "Good observations! Well, looks like we're already trying to figure it out Wakanga! Shall we head over to where the races take place to see if we can garner any more information?" he pauses, almost not admitting.. "And I am really looking forward to seeing the actual races!!"
Laderan listens intently at Wakanga's request. Though he wouldn't want to admit it within earshot of too many people, he was overly familiar with carnival scams and the rigging of such events that could be used for the purposes of gambling - which in his experience was just about anything. Another kick of how, all at the same time, this strange port was so familiar and yet so different to places from his past. Maybe that was a casualty of seeing so many places, everywhere had at least something similar to somewhere else, which had a similarity again to another location, which had a stark difference to somewhere else, and that place would share that same difference with another completely separate place. All in all, he realised that it was probably easier to just keep track of places on their own merits.
Ashtear's houghts were a fair summary, she'd missed out the most obvious starting point though... "Err, Ashtear, those are all great but there is probably a better place to start looking. I know that, hypothetically speaking, were I to try and cheat at something and that something had large sums of money involved, I'd want to see a return on my efforts. Start by looking at who's taking home winnings from these 'flukes'." His ears rubbed together again as he stroked his chin and twisted his mouth and brow closer together, creating an overly scrunched appearance to his face, "Then of course there are the local thieves gangs. Most big cities will have something running local crime, now it could be they are behind it, or that this is an unwanted interloper. Either way they'll have an interest in this and information we could use."
He pauses in his musing to look to Syndra, "We're here on your clock Miss Syndra, like Ashtears says we don't want to get double booked but if helping Wakanga would be in your interests..." He left the sentence hanging, it seemed inappropriate to finish with his intended 'if you don't die before we can find the Soulmonger' . These high up folk always seemed to have plans for the future and their currency was more often favours than coin. It didn't make sense to Laderan at all, as surely they could just pay each other for the work they did rather than this awkward exchange of services with entirely intangible values. He realised that he was extending the silence without any real purpose now, so quickly concluded his point, "We could make inroads in this until we're ready to depart and then make a call one departure once we know more? In the mean time, if we're to look into the dinos maybe splitting up would cover more baes in the time we have?"
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Syndra has been silent during the conversation with Wakanga. When addressed, she takes a deep, rattling breath. "Dears, my years of adventuring have taught me that there is rarely a single correct path to reach a goal. Were the path straight and wide, we would fast be out of work for the masses of those able to pursue the lifestyle. More often, we face a maze of choices. I remind you that we have no idea where the Soulmonger is located. Any route of investigation is a valid one. I support your decisions here."
Ornir's Insight results:
Syndra seems sincere in her words, and doesn't indicate a preference whether to begin your investigation within the city or traipsing through the jungle.