Sparrow, Inc. Pest and People Exterminators

"Well, this place looks like a painting of depression, mixed with alcoholism." I commented on the current state of the small mining town amidst the hills and cliffs of seaside Rookridge. 

Almost every building in sight looked like simple wood shacks on their last legs, and the people sat around fires in front of them looked lean, grimy, and almost as flimsy as their living conditions. The only thing strong about them was their grips on their bottles, flasks, and steins. People looked miserable enough that I had to consider if the abject poverty of the Bower Lake gypsies might have been a step up. I'd need to quickly come to a conclusion about whether or not to move on to Oakfield as a base of operations. Hopefully, I'll find a convenient exposition NPC who can give me some quests to fix the town's woes. 

We're not too far off from the Temple of Shadows now that I think about it. For some reason I doubt the current state of the town on this cold evening had much to do with human sacrifice and more to do with more natural forces like scarcity and competition. Malevolence too likely given the high number of bandits I'd dealt with on the road in. Good little loot farmers for me. 

As we crossed the bridge into town, we were met with the sight of a stables and coach house abutted dangerously close to a seaside cliff for my taste. One bad seismic event and it all slip slides away. 

"You got ale?" a man with a matted beard down to his chest sitting inside the toll booth shouted. 

"Lots." I responded.

Though none of the other bandit gangs I dealt with had as much wealth as the first. They all stockpiled alcohol. I had to make a rope harness and help the mules pull the cart up hill from how much liquid wealth I gathered. 

"Get it to the tavern already. Town's getting too dry this winter." He informed me like a good helper NPC, "Might I trouble you for a taste." he smiled a gnarly yellowed grin as he held out a tin cup. 

"Shite, mate, close yer gob and I'll pour you a cup of the good stuff." I told him and he kept his smile, just closed his lips on it.

"Thanky thanky!" he thanked as I reached in the back of the cart where I kept the good bottles and picked up the cheapest of them. 

Upon completion of my pour the man's good spirit only improved. 

"Might I trouble ye, fer another." he held out his tin cup again. 

"That'll be two gold." I informed him and he mumbled but reached into his coin purse to produce my payment for topping him off again. 

"Ah, that's nice." he sighed as he sipped his second cup rather than annihilate it like the first. 

"Why's the town dry?" I asked the man.

"Big bandit gang out in the hills to the east." the man grumbled as his drink stilled on its way to his mouth again, "Talk to the mayor, or the innkeeper if you want to know more." 

Prime NPC, this gent. 

"How much for the rest of that bottle." he asked and I checked by giving it a heft.

"Six." I informed him and he once more produced my gold, "Pleasure doing business." 

"Aye." he grunted and cradled the bottle to his chest, "Come here, precious, keep old Jack warm tonight." 

"Your name's Jack?" Rose sounded from her seat on the cart.

"Aye." he aye'd.

"I can see the resemblance." she snarked, and I frowned at her daring.

"Ye be little Jack?" he asked me. 

"Aye. Jack Sparrow." I puffed up my introduction, "Future Captain of the Marianne." 

"The Marianne?" he chuckled, "Ye dream big, little Jack." 

"Gotta keep a big dream to get to the top of the world." I sounded back. 

"Good good." old Jack nodded, "When you've sold off yer stocks at the inn, come on back, I'll keep the mules and cart safe fer ye at a discount." 

"Appreciate it. Bye." I shook his filthy hand and went back to the cart, sighing as I needed to pull the rope harness out again to make the ascent to the inn, one of the few buildings around looking built to last. 

Seeing the steep climb, I put an X in the Berserk column of my progress log and felt my six days of Will grinding slip away. Then considering it further I put another X in the Physique column, my third, and lost all my Strength EXP and a half my General pool. The results, unmatched. Peak return on investment gains. I felt around my newly stretched out clothes and felt hard slabs of muscle bulging and coiling under my skin. I felt strong as an ape, and as I channeled the Berserk spell, I felt my form slowly expanding even wider, deeper, and taller. It took me about fifteen seconds to achieve the first level of the Spell, but the result filled me with satisfaction and power. I quickly tied the harness around me and practically pulled the cart up the hill by myself. And to anyone who saw me suddenly growing into a huge jacked man, a trick of the fading light. 

I let Berserk slip away after getting the cart in front of the inn, which while the next stop from the coach house, felt like a country mile when tugging such weight behind me. For a place so packed I'd expected more noise coming from within the stone and plaster walls. Instead, I found the packed tables mostly quiet as the patrons nursed their drinks and took turns getting up to stand by the big fireplace. Seeing the spirit of the room, I stepped off an empty chair and onto a table. 

"Here ye, here ye!" I orated, "On this dark and dreary evening, I have come to thee from the south road! More importantly, I've brought booze for sale!" 

Never have I ever seen a more substantial turn in a room for the positive as this. The assembled patrons cheered. Soon I had men from all three floors of the tavern helping me unload my wares, and a barman with an offer he couldn't refuse. Though we haggled on the price of my food and drink stock, I hit him with a positive expression every time I made an offer, and he quickly relented on a price that would see me greatly enriched. We both signed an agreement for him to provide me with the funds by the end of the week. 

"Now that we've finished that bit of business, tell me about what's going on with the town. I heard something about a big bandit clan in the area." I continued down the dialogue tree. 

"Ah yes. The current bane of my existence." the barman huffed and started nervously wiping one of his steins, "There was a breakout from a forced labor camp a handful of months ago. Apparently they had hundreds of criminals working on clearing new land in the east, and things got out of hand. We'd thought nothing of it, till the Guard never took the criminals down and now they've moved into the area. Now they've got a stranglehold on the roads, and anyone that doesn't pay their tolls gets their entire stock confiscated, or worse. And I hear even if you pay your toll, this new gang might do worse anyway."

I've got proof of that traveling with me currently, though neither sister mentioned that the men I'd rescued them from came from a larger organization. Possibly a splinter group, or completely unrelated. Who cares? I certainly don't. 

"Sounds like a good time to be a traveling merchant with a big stock of weapons." I mused aloud and the man nodded.

"Aye, the mayor will likely make you a good offer for the lot." The balding bartender told me, "His family owns the mines, so even with the current economic troubles, they have more than enough in their reserves, and enough employees to wield them." 

"Sounds like a perfect arrangement. Thanks." I grinned, "Let's work out how much it will cost for my party to stay in this establishment while we're in town." 

Once again we haggled over the cost of room and board, and once again I hit him with my Trading Emotes™ to get me the best deal possible. 

Even though I cut into his margins pretty hard, I left the barman feeling like close friends. The power of Captain Jack Sparrow once more boggles the mind. As for my companions and my dog, we all felt the stresses of the road easing away as we settled in for the night for the first time in a week with a roof over our heads and beds under our backs. Despite the increased coziness, the younger sister of our traveling partners began weeping in the night. Again. 

We knew from experience there was nothing for it. 

Though I'd moved my valuables into the room with us that night, Old Jack's coach house impressed me by the presence of my weapons still in the back of my cart the next morning. With a written inventory of my warfare wares, I followed a dirt path deeper into the hills, until I reached a property with six foot tall brick walls laid in the crinkle crankle style - a wavy bricklaying system that uses the forces generated by the undulating walls to strengthen the structure - with a wrought iron gate. I rung the bronze bell hung by the gate and soon an armed man built in the rock block style of the Albion Guards. 

"What business do you have with the Rosenthal Estate?" the man inquired. 

"The sale of arms and firearms." I informed the man. 

"Ah yeah, it's you from the tavern." he grinned under his big tricorne as he recognized me. 

"I've an inventory here." I announced as I held out the list just passed the wrought iron bars. 

"Most excellent." the man nodded and took the list, surprising me by looking down at as if reading the list.

Impossible.

"Oh goody." he grinned, "I was just informing the young master this morning of the need to arm up more militia men. This here will go a big way to easing my current security concerns."

I guess it was only improbable that this fine specimen of man gorilla hybrid could read. Look at me judging books by their covers. How positively native of me.

Not long after the man returned into the manor, he sallied out once more and informed me that I'd be meeting with the master of the Rosenthal Estate, Lord Eugene Rosenthal III. Fancy. 

Across a small hedge maze and garden awaited the large manor house with an attacked glasshouse, I felt I could still enter the front doors easily even at maxed out Accuracy, and possibly even if I managed to max out Berserk. Unlikely given the morality requirements of the spell. The grand foyer ceiling reached the full three stories of the manor and opened the home in style with two expensive staircases curling around the room. 

Such style!

We ascended the left stairs and after a brief trip down a hallway so lavishly and exquisitely designed, decorated, and displayed it likely cost more than the all the homes on the street I grew up on we arrived at a stately office with a resolute desk behind which resided… a child. 

"Young master, this is the wandering merchant, Jack Sparrow." the big guard announced me.

"Lyle, you should have mentioned his condition." came the snooty voice of a black uniformed butler standing shoulders back head up chest out alongside the seated boy, "I'd have him bathed and laundered before meeting with the young master." 

"It matters not." Declared the boy with the bowl cut and cravat, "I am Lord Eugene Rosenthal III, Mayor of Rookridge. Guard Captain Lyle has informed us that you have a large shipment of weapons for sale. How came you by these? It has been many months since anyone has managed to deliver new weapons to our town." 

Ahhh, the smell of profit.

"My wares of warfare were the generous if unwilling donations of various unlawful organizations encountered and engaged on the road, Lord Rosenthal." I informed the boy.

"Ah, yes." The boy nodded, unable to hide his incomprehension of my statement. 

"He means he claimed them after killing the previous owners, m'lord. Bandits from the sounds of it." the big guard explained.

"How… thrifty." stated the butler through a mouth full of distaste.

"Damn handy if'n it's true." Lyle grinned.

"Language, sir." the butler bit at the other man.

"Have you some proof of this claim, Mr. Sparrow?" the child lord asked.

"Are you asking me if I cut thumbs or scalps?" I frowned at the kid.

"Nothing so dreadful!" he squealed in response. 

"Coc-" I was going to ask but the butler interrupted with a cutting 'How uncouth!'

"Well, I didn't harvest any fetishes from the bandits, but upon inspection you will find that all my goods are in used condition. Well maintained, so don't expect some big discount." I drove home the point. 

I'm about my money.

"Well, kid certainly has a mean sword arm." Lyly announced with his milk jug arms crossed over his barrel chest, "And his clothes reek of power and blood." 

"Hmmm. I shall take that as some proof, thank you Captain." Eugene agreed from atop the cushions that let him see over his desk, "Mr. Sparrow, I shall send the Captain and Mr. Giles with you to examine your goods and make you an offer, but before that I would like to steer your interest and hopefully your attention to the matter of the bandits plaguing this town. If you are so fearsome and of an agreeable mind, then as Lord Mayor of Rookridge I shall write up a contract of bounty with you for the members of the Chainbreakers criminal gang. What are the appropriate prices, Captain?" 

"Hmmm… fifty for the rank and file, two hundred for the shot callers, and five hundred for the bandit chief, a man by the name of Ricky. Standard for an organization of this size and activity." 

"Thank you, Captain." Eugene stated, "Shall we count on your application to bounty hunting in our territory, Mr. Sparrow?" 

I'd have done it for the EXP.

"Deal." I nodded.

The butler, Giles, drew up a contract which then received a seal from both the boy lord and the guard captain who doubled as a sheriff for the region. After which the adult pair came with me to my cart where Lyle examined my wares and Giles drafted another bill of sale. With this only my excavated treasures remain of my stock, and unless Lord Eugene desires some gems and jewelry, I'll not likely find a good buyer in Rookridge until another wandering trader comes through. 

Our business conducted, I returned to the tavern where I found Rose working on mending a few garments. I took out the contract from a hard box on my belt and showed it to her. 

"Now what's this?" she asked, not looking away from her work. 

"A contract, my dear sister." I informed her, "A contract getting me back into my old line of work." 

"They have a lot of problems with rats and beetles 'round here?" Rose inquired as she worked her needle and thread. 

"Better!" I smiled, "The Mayor has hired me for exterminating people!" 

Rose pricked her finger and squeezed it tight while shouting, "FUCK!" 

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