Jacob's Prologue: Morning Patrol

Phelan was the sort of friend who kept on pinching Jacob's nose just a little bit longer than necessary, and only relented with a big shit eating grin.

"Aye, Jacob - but unless you want bay water, it was either a cold wakeup or a cold drink." The scarred flesh on his face and arm twisting unnaturally as he holds out his waterskin, "And I figured you'd be thirstier than a dwarf outta ale.".

Phelan stood well over Jacob, even after Jacob got himself to his feet there was over a head of distance between them - like Jacob he was in full gear; a heavy one handed club dangling underneath the more lethal alternative of a longsword, better secured on his hip. The morning air was unseasonably cold and Phelan had the thick cloak of the Dock guard pulled up close to him; tied tight down to the stomach.

Unfortunately, Phelan's mug was the most familiar part of Jacob's wake up call - though he was able to immediately recognize where he was and that it nearly noon. Jacob found himself waking up in one of the open storehouses propped against the guard's headquarters, surrounded by barrels and crates full of basic supplies. Though really the structure was more of a wooden lean-too providing just enough shelter to shield the supplies from the weather. Behind him sat the three-story edifice of the guard house - an imposing and well made structure of wood and stone. The headquarters was built halfway on hard land and halfway on a drydocks - it had its own private dock dedicated to the guard skiffs used to patrol the waters for smugglers and the businesses of crime that were often conducted on small bay boats in the dead of night. Ahead of him was the low stone wall that surrounded the headquarter's courtyard, providing some small privacy and defense to drilling guards or supply movement in the open terrain (as well as passed-out-drunk guards sleeping in storehouses). To his right, outside the storehouse the courtyard gave way to the dockside, and to his left loomed the city of Absalom in all of its glory, shadowed by the sun. Even this early in the day, and with the cold misty morning Jacob could see the Spire of Nex, the First Keep, and the Starstone Cathedral dominating the skyline.

Phelan rested his hand on his blade and looked over Jacob with triumph. "After we had our drinks you started complaining about missing morning patrol," he scratched his nose, with a suggestive movement of the hips, "and, well, I'd found myself some company worth paying for." He turned to look up at the guardhouse, "But, as ya know it, not an hour before I make it back to my bed the green bitch starts screaming about the damn morning patrol... not that it realized the entire guard had missed morning by a mile... i'm just surprised I actually found yah, heh, and that you even made it back."

Smelling of stale alcohol and unwashed uniform (though it's tough to tell if it's Phelan or Jacob), Phelan rolls his jaw and says, "So... ready for the morning patrol?"

Phelan snatched back his waterskin and peered into it's mouth with a scowl, "Hey! You bastard now I gotta fill er up too" he snorted, looking just a little concerned despite himself "by Cayden how level'd ARE you?"

As Jacob searched himself, finding nothing out of place due to some miraculous twist of luck, Phelan said, "Aye aye, i'm more ready to head now than you I'd wager. Ain't going to stop yah though, is it? May as well come with yah and top myself off." Phelan's old tic was to scratch at his scars when he disguised a real question as a hypothetical - Jacob had been with him long enough to know it... and it didn't fail here.

Jacob knew that the fresh water pumps were plentiful around here - say what you will about Absalom, Aroden did a damn good job at engineering the place when he magic'd it into existence. There was a fresh water pump nearly every couple blocks, and the city was - in most districts - exacting about their cleanliness. The closest pump would be right next to the main gate in and out of the guard station courtyard - right on the way out onto the boardwalk.

The water was easy enough for Jacob and Phelan to collect, the pumps, as ever, were functional and untampered with - penalties were significant for tampering with a pump and there was little chance for profit, so to the great benefit of the people of Absalom their drinking water was safe.

As Jacob patrolled around the headquarters and began walking out into the streets of Absalom they were far more empty than usual - those few souls that strolled the streets were tired looking dockworker or teamster shifting crates, clearly shaking off their own hangovers and counting down the hours until next year's Foundation day. Elsewise it was terribly quiet for Absalom, one could even hear the sound of water slapping boardwalk over the city sounds.

Phelan looked a little cloudy, grunting, "No self respecting thug'll be out about now - they'll all be passed out in their own sick," he grinned and jabbed Jacob in the side with a finger, "sort of like you were."

Even late into noon, it wasn't uncommon for the streets to be near-empty after Foundation day - people had to sleep off the party, hell, even after a while of searching about Jacob didn't see a single other guard walking the streets. Not even a single yelling match between the Devil's Own thugs and the Sea King's boys.

The worst crimes Jacob was able to spot as he walked the streets, smelling of last night, was a bit of public drunkenness and loitering - and those were as common in the Docks as sea water and sailors. Though, technically... still a crime few guards bothered to prosecute it unless they were using it as an excuse for something else. Phelan certainly didn't seem to care. Though Jacob certainly may.

"Hey, Jacob" he'd say, speaking a little quietly despite the lack of crowds, "Don't suppose we could take a quick sweep around the Seed Bed?" He scratched his scars, "I, uh - I need to pop in for some business real quick - should only take a second... uh." He coughed, "That company worth paying for is still waiting for, heh... some of that pay." To Jacob's amazement, even Phelan was capable of being sheepish.

"Bah, I just figured you're sneakier than you let on, Jacob," Phelan said, looking infinitely happy to have convinced his friend of this little detour. "But thanks, and, uh - i'll be quick about it."

The walk towards the seedbed took them off the boardwalk up onto the main street of the Docks. Broad and heavily paved for mass transport it stretched in a continuous line from the Puddles to the Precipice quarters with offshoots to every bordering district; even it lacked any great deal of traffic - by foot or cart. The street was flanked mostly by large tenement apartments and the more reputable sorts of businesses; bakers, butchers, inns, clothiers, and all the many like. The large storerooms and warehouses were closer to the boardwalk, for easy access to the great bay. But perhaps more disconcerting, the walk took them underneath one of the elevated sections of Misery Row, a wood and iron bridge which stretched over the docks and was referred to, with a sort of spiteful hyperbole as "evil's shadow" as none appreciated the shadow it cast over its little section of the main road, and few appreciated what it represented. Even now, as most the city slept, muffled cries and harsh orders barked by slavers could be heard through the bridge floor as one passed beneath it. Phelan, for all his hate and vitriol spat at the floor as they passed underneath it, and despite some of his more questionable characteristics, cast a sincerely hateful glance at the thing and cursed it loudly. It had been about an hour's walk to get to Misery Row, with just less than an hour left to get to the Seed Bed.

A few poor souls, sleeping off the festivities, were strewn beneath the-hanging bridge, in drunken instinct finding the shelter its shadow cast as a place that lacked prying eyes. Jacob managed to spot some and with a sharp nudge and directions to fresh water most of them scampered off - seeing the chained anchor of the guards on Jacob's cloak. One thought, wasn't so polite.

"Fuck, mate" came a gravelly female voice from underneath a pile of yellow cloth wrapping, a single leg, heavily tattooed down to the calf and wearing high wooden sandals kicking out at Jacob's nudging hand, "wake me up when we're 'spose to move out." Her voice was heavily groggy, and whoever she was she twisted and rolled away from Jacob's nudge from underneath her pile of yellow blankets - though it was visible as little more than ruffling underneath the yellow cloth pile. "Sun aint even up..." She began to snore again, loudly.

Phelan snorted at the display, "Charming.". Phelan began reaching for his wooden club, unstrapping it - he was never the sort to take slights to their authority, even unintentional ones, idly.

Though the day was slowly beginning to warm up the streets around here were still sparse, especially after clearing out most of the vagrants. Through a few 'early' risers had begun opening their shops and walking to their late starts at work; a few askance glances from open windows and meager foot traffic did put a keen eye to the two stray dock guards clearing vagrants beneath Misery Row. The dull sounds of violence above still readily in hearing as the bridge creaked eerily from the afternoon wind. The area around the particularly belligerent passed out pile of yellow cloth was sparse, though she had at least three empty bottles of indefinably liquor surrounding her and had managed through some display of authority to claim a spot up against the wall of a building, tucked into a relatively protected corner.

(sorry to cut you off before you got to the brothel, feel free to keep the diplomacy roll you did for the next diplomacy scenario that comes up.)

Phelan scowled, somewhat incredulous at the motioned order for him to stop - but that quickly became a smile when he saw what Jacob had intended. Though he did take his club out regardless, and seemed full ready - and very much willing - to use it. He stood a step behind Jacob, using his size to intimidating effect, assisting Jacob in making his commands.

The kick landed plush on her rump - nearly knocking her into the wall she was snuggled up against and definitely giving her a rude awakening. "Tch'OW! The hell!?" Her voice lost her grog and grit, becoming husky as the sleep left it.

She moved very quickly considering the circumstances, up on her feet and against the wall behind her in an instant - the various yellow cloths that she had shrouded herself in flung off in every direction. She was armed with a heavy curved blade and a small hand crossbow, both sheathed. She smelt acrid, like saltwater and sweet liquor - but something else cut it, something foreign to Jacob's nose. Jacob's close examination of the woman revealed a few tidbits that weren't immediately apparent; mostly that she was definitely not human. Though at first glance she seemed to fit the human mold perfectly well she was covered in tiny almost incandescent scales, similar to a snake, that shifted naturally with her skin. Her eyes too were serpentine and her movements were just a little too fluid to be perfectly normal. Her sandals and tattoos weren't of any style that Jacob immediately recognized, and Phelan merely shrugged in response to Jacob's question, equally ignorant.

Whoever this strange woman was she certainly seemed surprised to be looking at a couple of guards, and then immediately after surprised by her very surroundings. She looked around, confused, then angry, then looking very very concerned - she had the wherewithal not to make any threatening movements though, not immediately at least.

She ignored Jacob's questions completely, continuing in Kellish, and making a sweeping motion to her surroundings "Where am I? What time is it?" She clicked her tongue, looking angry again, "Gozreh drag ye down, and where the fuck is Matthriss?" Her skin caught the light unnaturally, glowing gold even in the shade of Misery Row. It stunk of magic.

Phelan growled, hackles raising like an attack dog having their leash pulled; "We're askin the questions here, guttersnipe." His club slapping against his open hand, emanating solid 'thumps'. "And aint no one should forget that."

Jacob could note that, by the weight he felt behind him, Phelan was directing that statement at Jacob as well - he didn't like that Jacob was responding to the woman's questions before she answered theirs. Again - any slight to authority. Jacob knew Phelan long enough to know that he could only keep him back so long before he had to get some of his nastiness out.

The glow around the woman was, by Jacob's accounting, some sort of minor abjuration spell - but the glow could tell him little more than that. Granted, a defensive spell that managed to last through her drunken coma was performed by someone of considerable skill - or hidden within some item's enchantment on her personage. Though, perhaps - he was mistaken, and it was merely the sheen of her strange scales.

Though Phelan hadn't appreciated Jacob's acquiescence, the woman certainly seemed to. Sensing Jacob's lack of ill intent, she pointedly ignored Phelan - only managing to rile him even further - and stopped her sweeping, nearly-panicked, flailing. Her tone even changed as she spoke, less accusatory and aggressive, "Oh, uh - huh." her eyebrows furrowed, "Morning? Shit." She had a deep voice for a woman, especially one as slight as she seemed.

She kept her hands well away from her sheathed weapons and raised her hands up above her waist, "No worries, fisher - i'll just be on my way."She clicked her tongue - it was slightly forked, "Places to be." This woman had a knack for ignoring nearly everything Jacob asked of her beyond what she seemed desirous to answer. The woman began to move to try to get past Jacob and Phelan - out of the corner she'd been placed in. Phelan placed himself bodily in her way.

"Ain't leaving till you answer our questions, serpent." Phelan absolutely towered over the not-quite-human creature - but she seemed far more frustrated with him than scared of him.

She tilted her head back to Jacob, smirking, "Mind yankin this dog's chain, fisher?" Phelan began to raise his club, but she hadn't seemed to notice, looking at Jacob, "I gotta be somewhere noonish..." She continued to speak in Kellish - Jacob was finally able to note that her accent was actually kellishite - it was probably her native tongue.

The crowd had slowly continued to gather, a little more than a dozen onlookers made up of some of the vagrants they'd cleared out earlier, a few pedestrians and some citizens watching from nearby windows.