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 Extremely Fishy Happenings

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Number of posts : 760
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Extremely Fishy Happenings   Mon 29 Oct - 17:16:24

Extremely Fishy Happenings

Well what do you know? An extreme flash of light and another elf is transporting us back to good old Kerry who has new commissions for us. In no particular order, she wants Mad Eye, noted pirate king assassinated; An investigation into the possible activities of extreme cultists linked to a trollish deity, Hakhar, known as the Blood God or Blood Flayer; and infiltration of a resistance movement.

This is all in Stranglethorne Vale which is somewhat distant being at the southern tip of the Eastern continent, i.e. about as far away as you could be from our current location. Kerry’s not Koi about payment, 3000 each is the deal. That quickly quiets our carping about returning to Everlook which she tells us has been taken by the goblins any way.

Money talks so no problem for us, and filled with a new sense of porpoise we are whisked via Elf to Booty Bay, a disreputable harbour town in the centre of the area concerned. The town is constructed organically from a mixture of beached ships and dockside jetties resulting in a town with a distinctly nautical flavour. Even when you’re on solid ground it feels like you’re aboard ship. I was inspired to engage in all forms of naval jargon such as ‘Shiver me timbers’, ‘Keelhaul that lubber’, ‘Avast there!’ and other such well known yet mysterious phrases. For example, a vast what I wonder?

Our chaperone indicated that he would be found when needed in the area of the Salty Brig and suggested several leads in connection with the location of the pirate king. Capitano Heckleberry Smotts was one suggestion, Pirate Fist the second and Nat Pagel, noted fisherman the last. If none of these worked out, well there were plenty more fish in the sea. We debated which angle to try first but fate lent a hand as it so often does.

It was the good capitano that we bumped into almost at once. He was in a foul temper brought on by the loss of his pride and joy the Furious Yacht, sunk by a flying anchor hurled by a sea giant who has recently become resident offshore on the island of Path. Apparently he demands an extreme toll from all ships entering or leaving harbour on threat of a severe anchor related penalty as the good captain had discovered to his cost.

What was particularly galling for the captain was that he had left a substantial treasure on said island and now had no way of getting to the secret plaice where he had buried it. After some negotiation, we agreed to meet with him at nightfall to mount an expedition against the giant for a modest 2% cut of the chest’s contents. He refused to allow non swimmers on the expedition having lost a number of sailors earlier because of their shortcomings in this department, this excluded Lutzbar from taking part. A handshake put the seal on the deal and we moved on.

We continued into town with Plainsweaver irritating everyone with his extreme and continual need to make fish jokes for some reason and we all had to put up with this for the rest of the session.* Whilst we did this we considered offering a fish tribute to the giant in a non violent solution, but we were dubious that this would succeed. I went shopping in Sly Garett’s shady deals shop and came away with a couple of magic shrunken heads. I might have bought more but I was a few squid short.

* After a while we’d all haddock enough. And the GM rightly was forced to threaten harsh action for such thoughtless and pathetic behaviour

Garett was as slippery as an eel, and dangerous as a shark, clearly walking a tightrope in terms of legal niceties, he also sold lots of other things whose provenance he continually assured me was entirely legal, except perhaps for the odd item that had fallen off the back of a sloop. He tended to clam up if questioned further.

There were poisons, oddities and some unusual exotic weapons on display. I wasn’t really interested in anything non magical though perhaps on the weapons front I might have been interested in a pike…Didn’t exactly hit it off with Sly who seemed suspicious of my intentions; possibly he was confused by Puderillo sitting on my shoulder in a clearly non parrot-like fashion. I left before having to mix it with his bouncers.

I deduced later that the heads were those of Hakari priests, possibly relevant to our quest. The others meanwhile were fishing for clues at Nat Pagel’s place. He seemed a jovial sole* and had an extreme range of fishing gear imaginatively entitled the extreme range. He regularly runs a fishing contest signalled by a gong. Hundreds pay a handsome fee to participate resulting in prize money which we estimated at 6000 gold pieces, mind you, you know how fishermen exaggerate.

*No one thought to ask if he was from Dover

Despite this, several signed up for the competition and decided to get in some practice. Young Kasbo in particular was very keen and soon was sitting fishing on his toadstool in traditional gnome fashion. The fish round here were somewhat dangerous, piranha like in their habits if blood was spilt. A giant crayfish of some sort was caught and a 20 and 40lb monster were amongst the results of the first few hours work.

But then the gnome caught an extreme monster: Literally; a huge creature was dragging him off the jetty despite the help of the orc and Tauren. What the hake was it? Plainsweaver cut the line only to find himself struggling with the huge fish in the water. After a tumultuous struggle the big tauren brained it and a giant waterspout conjured speedily by quick thinking Nat Pagel who had been attracted by the commotion* blew our drowning crew out of the water with their catch. I lent a hand with my trusty rope whilst Puderillo looked on from his perch nearby. There were gasps from admiring onlookers and the word Snarltooth rippled round the crowd like a whispered virus.

*There are no flies on him*
*Actually he had quite a lot of flies on him now I come to think, mainly stuck in his hat.

Plainsweaver was seriously injured, and narrowly avoided getting his head kicked in by our angry orc. It was clear that it would take more than sucking on a fisherman’s friend* to bring him round, fortunately Fuq’ Witt was on hand with her healing. Kasbo who took the credit found himself something of a local hero having caught the deadly menace who apparently was one of seven huge lurkers feared by all in these parts. He began worryingly to make notes about the other six.

*Which was a shame because there were lots of them around.

Nat paid him a generous bounty as his shop did brisk business, the crowd inspired to seek their own experience of extreme angling. This heroic act by Kasbo* also would get us free accommodation later. He also got some alarming new extreme sunglasses adorned with miniature fishing rods and a promotional hat. Seems that he is becoming a walking advert for Pagel enterprises.

*Kasbo Fishbane? The Fish Slayer? Fish Slicer? Personally I like Kasbo the Fish Paster but with my accent that could be confusing? Suggestions on a postcard to the usual address please

We adjourned to the Salty Brig to recover and take lodgings. I was in the mood for entertainment and after a few drinks I enjoy singing a bit of light opera. Perhaps there would be some live music at least and as I remarked: ‘Hey I’m alaways uppa for a tuna! Or perhaps a bit of rock*’ But no such luck, however we did spot pirate Fist who turned out to be extremely knowledgeable on the whole pirate scene. Indeed, I think I’ll always remember the day when I met him.


We reeled him in slowly with small talk before cunningly luring him to talk about the Bloodsail pirates* who he revealed are based over the mountains around the cape. He added that he was one, and was here aiming to sabotage the Blackwater Raiders who are based here in Booty Bay. Not terribly discreet but I think he had pretty accurately assessed our motives for wanting to reach old One Eye. He indicated that he would guide us to the pirate king as long as we promised that he would strike the fatal blow. We didn’t shake on the deal** but there’s a definite line of enquiry there to return to.

*I forget our exact words but it was probably along the lines of so you’re a pirate, how do we find the pirate king?
**I didn’t fancy it, he had quite fishy fingers

He also revealed that the sea giant was sent by the pirate king. Asked for a tactical assessment of the two rival groups he was quite definite that the blackwater raiders from Booty Bay led by the Baron Revelgaz, had the edge in quality, but the pirate king had more numerous resources. The pirate king’s domain was at least a weeks travel overland through dangerous jungle containing hostile tribesman. The quicker sea route would inevitably encounter the pirates on their own terms, not to mention the recently installed sea giant threat. Another reason to deal with that then and a previously unappreciated political dimension, assuming of course the guy was on the level and not talking codswallop.

Plainsweaver meanwhile had other fish to fry. He ending up getting himself into scrapes getting beaten up on a quest for healing potions, but he did eventually track them down and returned to do a little brewing. Sometimes you think he’s nothing but mussels to look at him, but he’s got it upstairs too, even if he does get nearly killed all the time. Anyway, he knocked up a few potions, some more successfully than others and hopefully they will come in useful at some future point. The cuisine around here isn’t great so let’s hope one is a cure for salmonella.

Meanwhile our rendez vous time had arrived but we felt we needed healing and rest time and sent the orc and Troll to tell Captain Smollett that we would do the deed tomorrow. He was ready with a boat and a few hand picked men and was not happy to delay, so we piled in any way, all except our non floaty orc and the troll’s wolf. We set out in a rowing boat that sat low in the water and was a tight fit as a heavy bulky object took up alot of space.* I had a nasty moment getting caught by the rowlocks but all turned out ship shape** and Bristol fashion.*** There was concern that the boat could turn turtle at any time, but we reckoned rightly that there would be fewer passengers for the return trip.

*Yes we were packed in like sardines and several of us had to roe, which was hard work
**Sort of an extended pointy triangle with curves to the point and a flat base. Who says these accounts are not educational?
***Not even going there

We made it to the island where our formidable opponent turned out to be anything but sound asleep as we had hoped, having stayed up late to watching a concert by the Beachboys on the sea shanty channel. In fact he was almost certainly having a whale of a time before we arrived which probably explains why he got so upset as we drew up on the beach. Captain Smee’s brave boys charged forward against the twenty three foot monstrosity and were duly wiped out, as we skulked heroically in the extreme rear.

Captain Scott now revealed his ace, opening fire with the extreme cannon that we had all failed to notice, hitting the giant squarely but not killing it. Before it could be reloaded, the giant responded with one of his trade mark extreme anchor attacks. This did not involve boiling his opponents in delicious dairy product, but more resembled the hurling of a couple of tonnes of scrap metal spinning through the air at tremendous speed.

At the end of its trajectory, the anchor and its target attempt to occupy the same space at the same time, and a combination of the laws of physics, notably concerning mass and velocity, causes death and serious injury to the target and nothing of consequence to the anchor which let’s be frank, has made a career allowing itself to be stuck in things. On this occasion, added spark was provided by the impact, which together with the large amount of gunpowder about the place resulted in an explosion that removed the gun crew from the playing board like so many scattered prawns.*

*Or is it pawns? I’m getting confused.

We were faced with two choices: Run away and possibly escape under a barrage of flying anchors; or fight and possibly die being pounded by an opponent whose main use for hundred year old oaks is as a toothpick. We chose the latter as this option also had the possible prospect of vast treasure at the end of it, treasure currently seeking new management for the 98% not already offered to us following the unfortunate anchor related demise just mentioned.

We had already opened up with bow and now Plainsweaver attacked as I fired several spells into the giant. Kasbo and I then flanked it on both sides. Plainsweaver was floundering somewhat as his idea of dodging the giant’s tremendous swipes seemed to involve blocking them with his head, whilst the rest of us preferred the no contact dodging technique. The gnome with his dark arts went in for the krill from behind sticking to his back like a limpet, and then successfully avoided being extremely crushed by the giant corpse, or drowned in the pulsing arterial flow his knifework had liberated.

After the action, a discovery to warm the cockles of your heart; our captain was only stunned and he was quickly asserting his rights to not only the afore mentioned 98% of treasure but the entire island. He directed us to locate the treasure and after some extreme digging we found a hatchway into which the good captain descended. Turned out that the island is actually a goblin submersible of some sort.

He did however allow us a choice of loot and despite trollish mutterings threatening to feed the captain to the fishes a piece at a time we left the island quickly with our loot. The first feeble rays of dawn illuminated our return to port to face another day of rest and recuperation and possibly more fishing – for clues, information and of course for fish, which with such a rich prize on offer might truly be regarded as goldfish. Fins as they say, can only get better, perhaps tomorrow we won’t get so battered.

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