BEYOND POVERO: CRABCLAW Prelude
Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2017 10:12 pm
THE ESTUARY
in sight of
KARSE-PORT
The caravel Fortune’s Fool, sailing out of its homeport of Povero and bound for the Isles of the Zikandroon, makes an unscheduled anchorage off its planned route, at the small city of Karse-port along the great estuary of the Crabclaw Peninsula.
Varnish peeled by salt spray, rigging in shreds and spars all splintered, the Fortune’s Fool presents a sad contrast to the trim, well-fitted craft that sailed out from the docks of Povero weeks ago.
The sailors pour oil and wine into the calm waters as a libation to the Speaker-in-Storms, in thanks for a safe arrival in port after the gale battered their ship on the open seas.
Fisherman in small boats row past the damaged caravel, putting out for the further reaches of the sheltered estuary. Folk gather on the quays of Karse-port stare and point, their voices raised on a babble muffled by the sea-breezes, but most of the gawkers soon return to other activities; laboring, strolling, buying goods off small boats.
From the deck of the Fortune’s Fool, Karse-port looks a lot smaller than Povero, though still big enough to be called a city. Crowds of pedestrians, a scattering of riders, and several wagons move about the nearer lanes and courtyards visible from the ship. A brown river flows south through the middle of town, separating the eastern districts of high-gabled stone houses and cobbled roads from the western slums of muddy lanes, lean-tos, and wooden hovels. Morning sunlight glints off the polearms of a small party men posted on the arched stone bridge that spans the river and connects the two areas. Further upstream and inland on the eastern side, a white-domed building rises in the hillier part of the town—possibly a temple or palace. Sections of a curtain wall can be seen on the inland sides of the eastern city, but the buildings and low hills rising in line of sight make it impossible for anyone on the Fortune’s Fool to see the whole of these defensive works.
Not long after the caravel lurches into the sheltered bay and the passengers get their first good look at Karse-port from the water, sailors come to find them and tell them the ship's master, Skipper Torbert, needs to speak with then, right away.
On their way to the cabin, the passengers see two longboats drawing nigh the portside, and sailors on The Fortune's Fool casting ropes down for the occupants--a clerkish-looking man clutching a ledger and long quill accompanied by a small squad of guards in studded leather with stabbing swords hung at their belts.
Once the passengers have huddled into the ship master's cabin, Skipper Torbert informs them all that he will not be able to sail on to the Isles of the Zikandroon for at least a fortnight, owing to the necessity of repairing the damage caravel and laying in additional supplies.
"I'm sorry'', he says, "but there's nothing to be done for it. Now, I'm going to join the inspection of the vessel. I'd advise you to come along, as your baggage will be looked over too."
Any passengers who take the ship master's advice find the inspection below decks already underway. The clerk shines a borrowed lamp over cargo, including the party's kit. He scratches down some notes in his ledger. The clerk moves with practiced ease and speed, poking and prodding, looking for hidden compartments, false bottoms, and the like.
He comes to the party's two chests...
''Oh!" He says, after popping open one chest and clearing away some cloth and foodstuffs.
He's found the party's valuables.
Neither the clerk nor the guards attempt to seize the treasure, although they all seem astounded at the sight of the jewels and gold coins.
And while the port inspector’s clerk does leaf through the papers the adventurers seized from Master Aldron Folbre, stored in the second chest, he just hums and looks thoughtful a moment before replacing these.
After the clerk informs the shipmaster that all aboard are cleared for travel into the city, he departs the caravel with his armed guards.
Skipper Torbert then calls his passengers back to his cabin. He peeks out the window, then closes the shutter and the door before sitting down behind his cramped work desk.
He clears his throat rather loudly.
“Well, then...I knew you must have had more money after seeing how easily you let go of the gold coins you paid in passage, but I didn’t know you were that rich, or I’d have charged you a higher fare!”
Torbert laughs, which shakes the little desk at which he sits when his belly bumps one side.
“Look here, friends, I advise you to exchange some of those jewels for steel. Arm up. Because you lot are liable to be robbed not long after you enter in town. The port officials might be honest, but I reckon at least one of those guardsmen will start talking at the pub after his shift, if not sooner. It’s not every day a man opens a box expecting some fancy clothes or brandy or what have you and lays eyes on such treasures.”
in sight of
KARSE-PORT
The caravel Fortune’s Fool, sailing out of its homeport of Povero and bound for the Isles of the Zikandroon, makes an unscheduled anchorage off its planned route, at the small city of Karse-port along the great estuary of the Crabclaw Peninsula.
Varnish peeled by salt spray, rigging in shreds and spars all splintered, the Fortune’s Fool presents a sad contrast to the trim, well-fitted craft that sailed out from the docks of Povero weeks ago.
The sailors pour oil and wine into the calm waters as a libation to the Speaker-in-Storms, in thanks for a safe arrival in port after the gale battered their ship on the open seas.
Fisherman in small boats row past the damaged caravel, putting out for the further reaches of the sheltered estuary. Folk gather on the quays of Karse-port stare and point, their voices raised on a babble muffled by the sea-breezes, but most of the gawkers soon return to other activities; laboring, strolling, buying goods off small boats.
From the deck of the Fortune’s Fool, Karse-port looks a lot smaller than Povero, though still big enough to be called a city. Crowds of pedestrians, a scattering of riders, and several wagons move about the nearer lanes and courtyards visible from the ship. A brown river flows south through the middle of town, separating the eastern districts of high-gabled stone houses and cobbled roads from the western slums of muddy lanes, lean-tos, and wooden hovels. Morning sunlight glints off the polearms of a small party men posted on the arched stone bridge that spans the river and connects the two areas. Further upstream and inland on the eastern side, a white-domed building rises in the hillier part of the town—possibly a temple or palace. Sections of a curtain wall can be seen on the inland sides of the eastern city, but the buildings and low hills rising in line of sight make it impossible for anyone on the Fortune’s Fool to see the whole of these defensive works.
Not long after the caravel lurches into the sheltered bay and the passengers get their first good look at Karse-port from the water, sailors come to find them and tell them the ship's master, Skipper Torbert, needs to speak with then, right away.
On their way to the cabin, the passengers see two longboats drawing nigh the portside, and sailors on The Fortune's Fool casting ropes down for the occupants--a clerkish-looking man clutching a ledger and long quill accompanied by a small squad of guards in studded leather with stabbing swords hung at their belts.
Once the passengers have huddled into the ship master's cabin, Skipper Torbert informs them all that he will not be able to sail on to the Isles of the Zikandroon for at least a fortnight, owing to the necessity of repairing the damage caravel and laying in additional supplies.
"I'm sorry'', he says, "but there's nothing to be done for it. Now, I'm going to join the inspection of the vessel. I'd advise you to come along, as your baggage will be looked over too."
Any passengers who take the ship master's advice find the inspection below decks already underway. The clerk shines a borrowed lamp over cargo, including the party's kit. He scratches down some notes in his ledger. The clerk moves with practiced ease and speed, poking and prodding, looking for hidden compartments, false bottoms, and the like.
He comes to the party's two chests...
''Oh!" He says, after popping open one chest and clearing away some cloth and foodstuffs.
He's found the party's valuables.
Neither the clerk nor the guards attempt to seize the treasure, although they all seem astounded at the sight of the jewels and gold coins.
And while the port inspector’s clerk does leaf through the papers the adventurers seized from Master Aldron Folbre, stored in the second chest, he just hums and looks thoughtful a moment before replacing these.
After the clerk informs the shipmaster that all aboard are cleared for travel into the city, he departs the caravel with his armed guards.
Skipper Torbert then calls his passengers back to his cabin. He peeks out the window, then closes the shutter and the door before sitting down behind his cramped work desk.
He clears his throat rather loudly.
“Well, then...I knew you must have had more money after seeing how easily you let go of the gold coins you paid in passage, but I didn’t know you were that rich, or I’d have charged you a higher fare!”
Torbert laughs, which shakes the little desk at which he sits when his belly bumps one side.
“Look here, friends, I advise you to exchange some of those jewels for steel. Arm up. Because you lot are liable to be robbed not long after you enter in town. The port officials might be honest, but I reckon at least one of those guardsmen will start talking at the pub after his shift, if not sooner. It’s not every day a man opens a box expecting some fancy clothes or brandy or what have you and lays eyes on such treasures.”