Pathfinder-ish Campaign...

Thinking for a moment, the lizardman frowns, then nods. "The scro?" Glancing at his bodyguards, he looks for confirmation. One of them nods, the other shrugs. "Probably the scro," the sitting one concludes. "I am Nazqua, Master Trader of the Sakkhara Lizardkin." Bowing stiffly, he greets you formally. "Blessings be upon your people. We know of the scro. They are a blight upon the stars. They came from another sphere a few years ago, slowly consolidating as many humanoid tribes in the sphere as they could. They have a base somewhere in the asteroid belt out past the last planet, but I know not where." Pausing, he picks up a waterskin from the dock next to him and takes a drink. Whatever liquid is in it smells fruity, sweet, and fragrant. "They have some kind of grudge against the elven people and their Navy, but I do not know the details. They approached one of our outposts and attempted to recruit us into their war. We refused."

 

"Thank you master trader. Do you know where their base is? Or how we could locate it?"

 

we have recently run afoul of them and would like to prevent such things in the future

 

"As I mentioned, I do not know where their base is. Nor do I know who to ask." One of the guards leans down to whisper in his... ear...? "Ah," he mutters. "Interesting thought." Looking up at you, he makes an odd face. "I suppose if you were to track down one of the humanoid tribes the scro have been recruiting from, they might know where the scro are."

 

"an interesting thought. we encountered hobgoblins goblins and non red orks among the enemy crew. do you know of any tribes of those folk that would be large enough to draw from?"

 

Replying to the kobold’s smile with one of her own, its nature soft and kind the traveller first waits for Drakk before approaching closer, the presence of another kobold clearly putting the other at ease.

‘A little can be a lot, when you know none… Whatever information you have, we are grateful for it.’

and I assume you prefer to speak in Draconic? "Hê su sêlost sêfteûteweard tunge... Wýscan ðeawe râdlic crêasnes into sîn onsîgan, bêga mâna sîn swêg. A mâðmgestrêonreordian ofâcsian, sê tôcyme of beloved mid fela hýr inne ðêodisc.." (It is rather soft on the kobold tongue... A certain powerful elegance in its approach, a resonance in its tone. a treasure to learn, that coming from one with much interest in language..)

"Mid ðês yfel becnâwan êow witen orgilde duguð geofonhûs...". (Anyhow, holding this position, I am sure you know of the moonsister, and the ship's poor conditions…)

The traveller sigh’s, her gaze turning to see the ship out of one of the buildings larger windows before returning.

“Heonu yfe wiss êower for ðâm ðe forcunnian hûmeta ðêah ætberan æthwôn f¯æle we” (“And I am sure you too know how that came about… Well, We”)

She signals the other kobold beside her before continuing to weave a web of softly spoken words.

We wêmend ofðe mâ swilce sîn scipwered ðêah−hwæðere sometimes, twihynde ûser un¯æmtafram from d¯æd râd self inboden lâttêow ûser grama verb râd m¯ægsiblic to ðe of êower ac êower dryht (“We are, or rather, were employed as its crew.. And now, having lost our work as a result of these self-proclaimed ‘Leaders’, our animosity towards these raiders is akin to that of you and your peoples.”)

âðrôwian êower smêagan welhwilc pro hlîet êow ongietan thither hê hagolian frambringan? norðêast sb hit hê âgniden intô with swilc wiðerbreca ongang fullan bâm hyt lecgan onlic sê? yfel oncnâwan mîn word−cwide cwide forberan and in into êadnes duguð ðrôw−iendlic hîe d hêore,ðæt we m¯ærnes forð−stæppan witodlic sprecan liss.. Heonu birihte mîn brêostcofa, yfel lêc twêgen nu stilnes hwider sê Scro ârweorðungcunnon flôwan. (“Do you think there is any chance you would know where they hail from? And what they used to enact an assault on such a warm-hearted place like this? I know my words will do little to ease the suffering they have caused here, and that we are supposed to follow and speak forgiveness... But In my heart, I see no peace wherever the Scro are to be found.”)

 

Drew finished his meal slower than the rest of the group, and when all of Drew's companions left the tavern, Drew stayed to finish his breakfast. after a while, he left the tavern and went towards the docks. that is when he saw that Garutis had broken through the dock and into some kind of trap, Drew walked over to Garutis as the big man was crawling out of the hole in the docks. "Do you need help?"

 

Drakk sits back to let Ohmen do the talking, whether he approved of Ohmen or not, he definitely had a way with words. Nonetheless, Drakk figured he could help by lightening the mood. Ohmen had a tendency to be a bit somber with his word choices, so Drakk decided to smile and pat the Kobold on the arm in friendship.

 

Stepping closer the traveller ease’s the atmosphere with amiable talk and smiles… Ohmen normally had no patience for small talk. But this was not ‘Ohmen’.

Yfel sârig wægn egeslic ðigen frêorig−ferð sprec adverbial phrases unwênlic mîn friend yonder ðætte se dôð Scro âlynnan underlihtan ðone as exehwæt−hwugu… (‘I am sorry for the serious and sombre talk so suddenly my friend… Though that is what the Scro deserve. Let's lighten the mood a little bit…”)

wægn hýð for ðý ðe docks macung nîwan?.. Hîe must bêo ðrýðum wîtan ungelîcge... ah ðêah yfel frignan frignan êower âhâtan? Sârig. (“How has the harbour and docks been doing lately?.. It must be very interesting to see so many different peoples and cultures so regularly… Oh, and I forgot to ask, What is your name? So sorry haha.” )

Giving a confident light chuckle, and a warm interested expression they lean on the desk.

 

Shiro leans forwards and tries to communicate a sense or urgency and clarity of purpose.

"Master Trader anything you can tell us that would lead us to these Orc's would be greatly appreciated. As my friend here says, we have a score to settle with these creatures. Doubly so if they have been disrupting this small community."

 

Drew, Garutis does not seem to be having an issue getting himself out of the hole, but he seems rather cross. You did notice a kobold running away, but have no idea where it has gone. Curious, you follow Garutis to where his spring-trap is set, and watch him pull a sheep's head out of the trap. There's decent eating on a sheep's head (if you're Garutis), but it doesn't change the fact that he has set up a trap in the MIDDLE OF A TOWN. Oh, and now he's resetting it again, turned the other direction. This MIIIIIGHT be an issue. You suspect that talking to Eugene about this may be a good idea. Perhaps the illithid knows something that will stop this sort of thing?

 

Garutis refuses to learn his lesson from the kobold, and resets the trap

 

Shiro, Izema, as you mention the kobold settlement to Nazqua the Master Trader, a lizardy grin steals across his face. "Yes," he suddenly says with a nod, "it is a terrible thing they did to this settlement, and I am glad you have brought this up. It means you are truly on the side of law and justice, not just out for greed and less-than-honorable reasons." He waves an arm, indicating his ship, then the town. "Do you know why we Sakkhara trade with these kobolds of Silgisarii? It is because we are all scale-kin. Unlike the humanoids, most scale-kin try to work together for a more harmonious existence, especially out here where we do not have to fight for land as much." Pausing, he glances at a guard and snaps his fingers. Nodding, the guard walks to the edge of the dock and drops down onto the turtle-ship. It doesn't so much as shake when he lands on it, a testament to how solid the ship must truly be. For some reason, talk suddenly changes to the weather, and to how pleasant it is that the kobolds have discovered a place to mine and are willing to trade ore for food-stuffs.

When the guard re-emerges a few minutes later, it is holding two more scrolls. Taking them from the guard, he thanks his associate and unfurls the first. Dipping his quill into an inkwell cunningly disguised as a bracelet(!), he begins to write. "I appreciate that others beyond just scale-kin are willing to work for the common good. As mentioned, I do not know where the Scro have their base, but I do know where they recruit some of their allies from. Given the description of the archers you saw, those goblins likely came from a settlement on Tayrik." Finishing his writing, he blows on the ink to dry it, then rolls up the scroll and hands it to you. Pulling out the second, he begins to write again. "That first document will grant you permission to dock a ship in Salk'nath, along with a rough map of how to find our lands on Tayrik." Quickly, he scribbles out a second message, blowing that dry and rolling it up. Handing quill and scroll to one of his guards, he snaps his fingers and conjures up a tiny flame on one digit of his left hand. He holds it to an odd bracelet on his right wrist for a moment, then snuffs the flame and removes one of the gems. A moment later you realize that the gem is, in reality, a seal-sigil, and the bracelet contains a kind of wax! A moment later the second scroll is sealed with the wax. He waves it about to dry and set the wax while casting you a mischievous grin. "This," he says, handing you the second scroll, "is a message to the Master-Diplomat in Salk'nath. Go there, give her this. She will guide you to the goblin settlement, and hopefully you will find the information you seek." Bowing as low as a seated lizardman can, he dismisses you with a blessing of his people. "May your scales stay damp, and the stars guide your destiny."

 

Drakk and Ohmen, meanwhile, are in the harbormaster's office still. "There is not much to tell you, I am afraid," the clerk tells you. But before she can continue, a voice chimes in from behind you. A taller kobold with iridescent, but still rust-colored scales stands behind you. "You are looking into the Sker-row?" he asks with a sour look on his face. "I can tell you about them. They came here trying to get us to join their so-called crusade against elvenkind. When we said no, they torched a warehouse and raided another. We damaged their ship as they fled, but most of our attention was focused on putting out the fires. They are trouble. They look for trouble, they bring trouble. Should you bring us proof of their demise, I am certain we can work out some kind of reward for you."

 

Back at the inn, Tarkaz sits in shame and semi-solitude. But here is the thing about being a friendly guy. People like that. One by one, the kobolds you saw in your room wake up and make their way downstairs. A few of the females give you a hug before either starting their shifts or heading elsewhere. As they stop to talk to you, bits and pieces of the previous night are coming back. Apparently, you did not get that drunk last night. You did, however, partake in an interesting game the kobolds of Silgis invented. You cannot pronounce what they call this game, but apparently you were very good at this dice game! You won quite a lot last night!

Unfortunately, Lil'usk has... well... eaten your winnings. Literally.

It appears the night staff of the inn likes to play for, well, peanuts. Well, nuts in general, technically. Different kinds of nuts are worth different values, based on taste and availability. You won almost a whole bag of various nuts... all of which were then eaten by your mimmoth. The staff are a little annoyed that they cannot try to win their nuts back tonight, but they all think Lil'usk is adorable, so they're okay with it.

 

After a while, a curious Eugene goes looking for his friend Garutis. He arrives just as the neanderthal finishes setting up his trap for the third time. When it went off the second time, Garutis found a sheep's leg in his trap. Not a whole sheep, just the leg, smoked up like ham and seasoned with pepper and spices. Apparently someone is playing a prank on Garutis.

Shaking his head, Eugene takes his friend in hand. <Garutis, I think perhaps you and I should travel together for a while! I have plenty of things you could hunt, and can always use a skilled warrior!>

Drew watches as the illithid escorts Garutis to his ship, frowning.

A few hours later (around lunchtime), the illithid returns, shaking his head. He is accompanied by a very... very... short individual wearing a red cloak. <Hmm. I am sorry,> he tells anyone in the group who happens to be in the inn. <I will not be able to take you anywhere on Spinrifter after all. In fact, I must ask a favor. I am going to keep an eye on Garutis - he is a little more... wild... than I recall, and I believe he may need to be returned to his home. I can do this, but if I am doing this, my friend Bigbang here will need to find other accommodations. Could he, perhaps, travel with you?>

 

Drew looks at Bigbang and nods respectfully, "hello, my name is Drew, i am a friend of Garuits, how may we be of service to you?"

 

Bigbang drops his hood, revealing two large ears and whiskers. Bigbang is a rabbit.
"you got whiskey?"

 

"not on me at the moment, lets take you to the tavern my friend, and see what we can find."

 

"Excellent. Taverns have the best drinks in town, hopefully they have ramen there aswell"
Big bang moves towards the tavern with a speed belying his diminutive size