Quay Personnel

The cloudy sky is a deep, black backdrop behind the overnumerous artifice-powered lights illuminating the bay even at this late hour. Commerce continues even if the pace has slowed, with many seafarers able to see in the dark (even without the benefits of artifice), being used to odd hours, or simply just harried by a tight schedule. The city's navy is especially busy, enjoying a surprise inspection by the top men with fancy epaulettes decorating their shoulders. Top men.

Some distance from the greatest activity is a long dock reaching out well into the bay branching time and again with scores of births for smaller ships. There are still some goings-on here but it's mostly quiet; the fishermen have put in for the day, the private travelers are sleeping belowdecks or under the stars.

One of the larger ships in this area is a metal-plated thing belonging to a Khazadi ore-shippers. The medium-sized cutter looks more fit to sink than sail, but the barnacles, chipped paint, and hints of rust indicate that it's been on the open seas for many, many years.

In the shadows of the (much) bigger ship is a simple rowboat, tethered and bobbing with a simple tarp lean-to propped over an unoccupied bedroll. A gobber stares at the dwarves toiling up and down their ship with a flat affect, half-dressed in just his coat and breeches.

Nemori has just concluded a conversation with a pair of sailors, though their ship of berth isn't readily apparent. In fact, the way one of them keeps nervously casting glances could suggest a number of things about this meeting.. particularly as a small pouch of coins changes hands with a small object wrapped in cloth.

Nemori's eyes narrow, and though her words are lost over the sounds of the wind blowing along the water and the waves lapping against the posts of the docks and the walls of the harbour, her expression indicates her usual lack of.. sympathy. One of the sailors takes a step towards her, but the nervous one grabs his arm, shakes his head.. and then the two abruptly turn and hurry away. Nemori, too, turns, heading in the opposite direction.. which happens to bring her by Kristup's floating home.

Winter months meant that the waters around Alexandria were exceptionally cold. Which meant very little when one was already resistant to it. In fact, it meant that it was even more pleasant to take a dip in.

Near to the small boat, a small white and brown spackled snout pokes up out of the water. They look up and over the docks, and it is quickly joined by a waving arm. "Heya Nemori, hope I'm not scaring you or anything, what's got you in such a hurry?" They ask, before turning and looking at the boat floating nearby. "And good evening to you as well, is that your boat?" They ask.

The gobber's hair has a fit in the wind and the dangling buckles on his coat contribute to the localized noise. He's either too busy watching the Khazadi tradesmen at their work or just too generally unobservant (maybe both?) to notice Nemori's approach.

"... and, oh, look at my beard. I love it more than my clan-specified, allotted number of children." He's muttering under his breath, looking between the hairy sailors without much of an expression. When Eztli appears near his boat, he takes a few (surprisingly long) strides to get a better view of the sith-makar. Then he turns and considers the mul'niessa woman for the first time. He blinks, his expression still neutral.

After what might be a beat too long, he fishes out a thick book from a deep pocket and folds it open to a marked page.

'I am not... a brigand,' he explains in a halting Trade. <goblin-talk>

<OOC> Nemori says, "badda splodey bang big break wee splode nate nate badda bam badda splode splodey splode deto aha bang"

Nemori stops, eyes widening slightly in surprise... perhaps due to the nature of her visit here, or perhaps simply due to the unexpected nature of Eztli's appearance. It takes her a moment to realize that makari is in the water, another to take a step closer to the edge to get a better look at her. "Eztli," she finally states. "What... why are you.." Both questions die, for the elf can probably already guess the answer, so she sighs instead. "Be careful nothing in there eats you," she warns instead.. and is prevented from answering the makari's query when her face sours upon hearing the tongue and tone of one of her least favourite peoples. Gobbers. She turns her eyes, perhaps hoping the small creature was talking to someone else. But no..

"I think you are in the wrong city. Blar is back that way." The shadow elf points, though it's probably not in the direction of Blar. It is in a direction away from Alexandria.

"What do you mean? It's a nice day for some exercise, and the water is great. At least, I think the water is." The small makari laughs. "Don't worry, I'm not straying too far from the docks, I'd be more worried for something trying to cause trouble."

They spin back around in the water after the musings in a language she did not understand, pulling up to rest their head on one edge of the row boat. "A brigand? Why would you be a brigand? Brigands harry people on the roads, not at see. Which doesn't rule out being a pirate, I suppose. But you're trying to say you aren't a threat, right?" They inquire.

The gobber situates himself with his back to the water, Nemori and Eztli to either side (and slightly in front) of him. He stares at the elf. Then the sith. Then the elf again. His eyes shift from a reddish-black to the color of purple amethyst as he blinks back and forth between spectrums to consider the pair. 'I... come out of Blar,' he explains without referencing his phrasebook. He also takes a moment to correct the mul's sense of direction after she points towards the sea and Veyshan beyond.

Then, he's crawling back into the book. The process of searching out the correct entry is slowed as he makes a point to frequently check on the pair. Drawing a finger down a page, finally, he looks from it to Eztli and to the writing again. 'Th-hat...' A glance. 'That is mine.' Then he points at the boat. Maybe he speaks a bit defensively.

He starts flipping pages, grunting, and then tossing the whole thing to one side of the binding that he might consider the appendices.

He has a thought and clears his throat. "Speak you the oruch-tongue?" <yrch-speak>

Nemori just gives a small shake of her head. She clearly doesn't agree with Eztli.. but given what she knows of the makari's eccentricity, well, the elf decides it's less surprising than she initially assumed. Still, her expression is somewhat dubious as she glances down at the dark water, waves continuing to lap against ship and boat hulls. It is also still sour. Her expression. She was trying to be polite to the goblin, after all.. and he refused to take the hint. Being 'corrected' like that is just salt in the wound. "We. Do. Not. Want. Your. Boat." she says slowly, over enunciating. "Ugh. Eztli, do you know what he is saying?"

"You're from Blar? That would explain the lack of tradespeech, as far as I know, the majority there are gobbers and Arvek-nar, so most everyday things are conducted in goblin-talk there. Least, I think that was goblin talk." Eztli muses, raising one arm up in front of them, then the other, until they sink with back into the water, over to the docks. An arm is left upright. "Give me a hand out of here?" They ask, grinning up to the elf. "Come on, it's a bit cold, but there's no real reason to be unhappy today, unless there is." Eztli laughs. "But my friend here is right. "We're not trying to steal any of your things, sorry if I overstepped any boundaries. I don't speak your language, but I take it you landed here not too long ago?"

Kristups stares at Nemori. When she alters her method of speech his eyes narrow and he frowns subtly. "One big wave, Leviathan," he entreats the waves. Then he's nodding, watching Eztli move away from his tethered ship and towards the decking.

'Bought home,' he explains with another point at the rowboat and its lean-to accoutrements. Taking an opportunity, he dashes the brief distance to hop beneath the tarp and into the crumpled bedroll. There's the unmistakable, springy *click* of a firearm's hammer being cocked. In the shadows of the boat-tent, his eyes are the reddish-black as he peeks out. '... treh-spassing. Aweigh. Go.' <goblin-talk>

Nemori looks pained when Eztli makes her request. One can almost see the thoughts in her head. Cold. Wet. But she sighs nevertheless, and kneels down to offer an arm to Eztli. While the other clings tightly to a mooring post. With the tell tale click of a firearm being.. armed.. she loses her hesitancy and urges Eztli to be quick about climbing up with her assistance, while her eyes remain fixed upon the boat and the now hidden occupant. "Fine. We are leaving. There is little cause to be rude about it," she declares.

Halfway up and out of the water, the sith-makar flinches, before calmly pulling herself up on to the dock. "We were already leaving and making it clear we meant no harm." They state as they turn to keep the small boat in the corner of their eye. "These docks belong to the city, as do the waters around them. But we will be on our way." They add, walking away until they were out of the line of fire before she pulls robes out of her waterproof bag to pull over their swimwear.

If the irony, or more accurately hypocracy, of Nemori's attitude is apparent to the elf, she makes no sign of it... sneering at the boat as she and Eztli make their way away from it. "Ought to sink its poor excuse of a raft," she mutters. "Just what this area needs more of..." Normal, perhaps, for one with a generally self-centered world view.

"No, it's alright, really." The small makari sighs, rubbing their snout and snapping their fingers as they turn into a sudden cloud of mist as the superheated water dried away met the cold evening air. "It's my fault for showing up as I did, there probably aren't many sith-makar in blar after all, I might have looked like a monster to them, and a lack of communication probably didn't help. When you don't have much in the world, it's only natural to fight as hard as you can to hang on to it, after all."

Nemori looks a little askance at Eztli.. but then shrugs, unwilling to push the matter. Perhaps being swayed by the argument... or perhaps simply not caring enough to pursue it further. "Whatever. He is unlikely to make many friends waving his weapons around, in any case." Haha. Like she's an expert on making friends.

"No, they're not, but someone else might need to be the person to teach them that." Eztli shrugs. "Someone who can actually speak with them, most likely. I'd, you know I'd like to help them, but not at threat to myself or people around me. I don't know what I would have done if they actually shot at you, or something like that."

"That wasn't what I wanted as an end to my day." They sigh, tapping a claw against their cheek. "But, it could have been worse, too. So I'll be happy with things being okay for now, Nemori."

Nemori makes a little bit of a face.. like she'd just tasted something minorly bitter.. but she quickly schools the expression and nods her agreement. "Fair enough," she tells her friend. "Perhaps we will see him again. Or perhaps the fool's boat will overturn while he is sleeping and we will not see him again." Probably not hard to guess which outcome Nemori would prefer. "But.. yes.. enough on that. Let me walk you home."