We arrived at the little dock town that our Grey Warden “friends” requested we meet them at. I was rather less than surprised they weren’t there; but we did run into Master Tyrian, and that was a pleasant surprise. Master Tyrian, apparently, was told by the Grey Wardens to meet us her. Now I’m actually somewhat curious what has detained them. Regardless, their absence is a boon and gives me the chance to explore a few interesting prospects in this town.
Master Tyrian informed us of rumors about the town of a crazy man wondering the docks claiming that hidden artifacts were uncovered by the receading water of the blight. There is also a local bandit group attacking the town and its residents; and I do have a rather itchy impulse to remove those bandits of their belongings—after all what’s theirs is mine. Not to mention that will help our image with the Grey Wardens as do-gooders. Something, unfortunately, I need to be concerned with after the little incident at RedCliffe.
Pierce and I ventured to the docks and spoke with the “crazy” man and indeed found out he is crazy. The mad little scientist has some contraption to take us into the water, deep into the water, and let us explore the caverns below the town in search of some artifact he believes to be there. He wants only the claim to fame for the discovery and said he would allow us the spoils. For some Maker known reason Pierce seemed truly interested. I, on the other hand, strongly enjoy breathing and without a spell or rune of some kind to protect myself have absolutely no desire to embark on such a fool’s journey.
We also encountered a few of Pierce’s friends. Mercenaries from her previous escapades. A human, lumbering and serious, who goes by Sawyer; and a pretty little elf called Lincoln. Upon seeing their old friend they invited us all to drink in the tavern. Pierce, Master Tyrian and I accepted, but Ailen simply stated he’d stay with the wagon and watch our belongings and the horse. Lincoln flirted shamelessly with me and I certainly hope it worked on Ailen’s nerves.
The tavern was…small, dirty and like the rest of the town—smelled of fish. The drink was equally as terrible and I settled on indulging in my own wine versus risk whatever disease one might catch from using the tavern’s mugs. The mercenary boys discussed their recent adventures…something or other about a missing member and maybe wanting to join us, I wasn’t really listening…Lincoln was a very pretty distraction. He seemed to think the same of me and was very bold, and lude, in his bravado of telling me. He appears to lack the intelligence to understand the finesse needed to woo a person of my caliber. I felt slightly guilty for leaving Ailen as our servant and brought him dinner, but he seemed uninterested in socializing so I returned to the tavern. Master Tyrian drank as much as I’ve seen any Dwarf and was soundly drunk midway through the night. He even proposed I retire to his room with him—and if it weren’t for more…interesting…prospects elsewhere I might have. I’ve heard wonderful things about the stamina of Dwarves; but I can’t image even a Dwarf could compete with a were-creature.