Entering The Pirate Market

 

The entrance to The Pirate Market was packed with all manner of festival goers, so much so that getting through the narrow chokepoint was difficult. Hundreds of attendees tried to cram through the relatively narrow space between the Cathedral of Mithras the Risen and the Port Authority . The crush was not helped by a circus procession, complete with jugglers, fire breathers, musicians, and other performers that seems intent on making use of the same entrance.

After navigating the entrance, the party was relieved to see that the fairgrounds opened up somewhat as the crowd spilled out into the larger space. The smell was overpowering, the pungent scent of unwashed creatures of several races mixed with the flowering palm trees, tropical fruits, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sour wine from that permeated the fairground. The din was even more overpowering then the smells, as hundreds of voices conversed, yelling and swearing at one another, competing to be heard in dozens of languages.  

Two large stalls dominated the entrance. prominently hawking succulent fruits, vegetables and mixed drinks. 

Set slightly back from the main causeway, several larger merchant stalls selling more serious items clustered taking advantage of all the foot traffic no doubt. One shop, with a large sign promising "Antidotes", was presided over by a tall, intimidating black woman dressed in occult paraphernalia. Her stall seems to caters to potions and alchemical concoctions, some of which she is brewing on the spot as  you watch.

Out of another stall (marked "Quality Blades"), a halfling peddled swords, muskets and other weapons.

 A third stall, administered by an imposing, bare shirted man, sported a variety of exotic weapons including a trident and large war hammer, in addition to miscellaneous adventuring gear. 

Finally a dwarf runemaster stands next to a large merchant wagon, set up near the wall of the Cathedral, fiddling with a huge golem lying on a display table next to it.

"Holy shit, is that Galdor?" exclaimed Freddy. 

"My god it is!" confirmed Whisperleaf. "What in the world is he doing so far from Valoria?"

"It looks like his Golem research has born some fruit" commented Dakhir.

The party quickly pushed their way through the crowd to great their old companion. Galdor's normally impassive countenance broke into a huge smile upon seeing them, his dour, heavily bearded face transfigured.

"Freddy! Dakhir! Ricmo, Ozraeline, the whole gang! Who would have thought to meet you here, so far from home!" 

There was much backslapping and reminiscing as the former companions greeted eachother. Stories of "The Dungeon of Doom" only got bigger as time passed, and the crocodile that had almost eaten Whisperleaf grew a new head with each retelling. But after awhile, the conversation returned to the hear and now.

"That's one hell of a big golem" remarked Ricmo. "Much bigger then the ones we fought in the Dungeon of Doom"   

"But the principle is the same" remarked Galdor. "The runic fragments we recovered from Red Alice's creations were the key to the breakthroughs that power this creature. I call him "The Starg"

The Sturg's great helmet turned toward Galdor. Somehow he radiated disapproval. 

"But he is only partially complete" Galdor hurried onward. "This line of research has proven to be tremendously expensive. I heard that these islands are awash in gold, so I am trying to put together a group of visionaries who might be willing to share in the expense, in return for sharing in the rewards of course."

Ricmo put his arm over the dwarf's shoulder. "Galdor, my old friend, let's talk....". 

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"So tell again about this glue" asked Whisperleaf skeptically. Several hours had passed as the companions had sampled various stall in the Pirate Market. They had perused a plethora of diversity; used weapons ("the best deal in town just don't ask questions about where they came from"), magical tridents that promised to control the creatures of the sea ("yes it works on squid. Yes even on very large squid")  and even a potter who had the power to imbue a semblance of life into his clay creations. And yet they had barely touched all that the market had to offer.

But the only thing they had bought up until now was the glue. The alchemy stall had a wide selection but Tello had shown complete disinterest in the vials of healing potions, love potions, curses, cures and antidotes her stall sported, but he was fascinated by the small vial of glue.

The Tortle smiled. "Anything. Forever. It's magnificent."

"Anything?" replied Whisperleaf .

"Forever" the Tortle replied.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"It's why she charged double for the solvent" Ricmo grinned. 

The party was taking a mid morning break in quieter area of the market nestled up against the side of the Cathedral. This section offered a welcome respite from the noise and press, slightly less crowded and hectic then the rest of the market. The stalls here seemed to cater to a more highbrow audience, at least the huge ramshackle pile of books, scrolls and oddments market "Books" wasn't targeting the typical pirate. Or perhaps it's the smell from the fishmonger mixing with the fruit seller next door that kept the crowd down.  

One of the gifts Dakhir had received from his dark pact was the ability to sense magic. There was a fair amount of magic at the market in general but the bookstall was lousy with it. 

The party were surprisingly ambivalent toward books, despite the four magical practitioners among their number. While Dakhir liked to curl up next to a roaring fire with a good occult tome as much as the next man,. his magic didn't come from studying the written word and he held something of a dim view of the magicians that sought power that way. In Dakhir's experience power always came at a cost, and he'd rather negotiate that cost up front then barter away his youth and vitality slowly, studying for decades in some drafty wizards tower.

Whisperleaf shared this mindset to some degree. While he was remarkably learned (his druidical order was a thousand years old and took scholarship seriously) the Druids found their power under the sky, and in the songs of the birds and the slow words of the great trees of the northern groves. 

Freddy found his magic in music. While he was also incredibly well studied in his youth, these days he was more interested in creating his own music then studying the works of long dead composers. 

And as for Tello, he seemed to invent his 'science' as he went along.

But still, while they all found power through unconventional sources, they all also understood the importance of lore. So when Freddy walked up to the proprietor of the stall, a rotund bespectacled scholar by the name of Gorland,  he waved off the shelves of magical tomes and scrolls. 

"Do you have any books on the history of old Annwyn my good man?" Freddy asked. 

The scholar had two shelves actually. Whisperleaf and Freddy poured over the volumes. "Here is Templecraig's A History of the Annish People, that's a solid set but I've read those. And Monmouth's 'De gestis Annish''.  

"I found a copy of Bede's Historia ecclesiastica gentis Annwyn" remarked Freddy. "That's very old. But still, this is all relatively common fare, I've read all of these". 

"As have I" remarked Whisperleaf. "Oh look, The Annales Cambriae, now that one is rare one...OW! "

The druid jumped backward from the shelf, nursing his had.

"The Annales Cambriae just BIT me!" he announced.

 "Oh dear": remarked Gorland, abandoning the customer he had been helping and hurrying over. "It's that dratted book again. I thought I rid myself of that blasted thing."

The companions watched in wonder as The Annales Cambriae sprouted legs and a tail and jumped off of the bookshelf. Dakhir raised his rapier, taking a defensive stance while dark magic blossomed in his left hand. The Annales Cambriae hissed at him.

"No need, no need!" the proprietor said quickly, clearly worried about the fate of his stock if Dakhir unleashed the hellfire he had become somewhat famous for. "It's harmless I swear. Bit nippy, but surprisingly useful, especially for those skilled in the arcane arts."

"Then why did you say you were trying to get rid of it?" asked Ricmo suspiciously. 

"It keeps scaring the customers." Gorland replied, a bit evasively. "It can change it's appearance to any book it's....had exposure to. Has a nasty habit of lying in wait in the bookshelves and jumping out at people. Say, if you want it, I can sell it to you cheap"

Dakhir opened his mouth to refuse the request but then quickly stopped himself. On the open pages of the book he could make out the infernal script of a spell, a spell he could read and understand. Warlock's couldn't benefit from spell books. Except apparently for this one.

The book somehow seemed to stare at him, despite it's lack of eyes. It whipped it's tail back and forth excitedly. And then it...mewled. Plaintively. 

"I'll take it" Dakhir surprised himself by saying.