A crowded city of roadways, causeways, levees and canals, Greynor was, and is, built on and in the water as much as it is on land. Brightly colored stone-and-stick-built homes have been raised within, amongst, and literally leaning up against more modern stone and even some pressure-treated timber constructions.

Goods, trinkets, and wares of every kind and flavor are hawked everywhere one turns in Greynor. Everything from fragrant cups of hot tea, to good luck charms, to choice cuts of beef and lamb can be found there, being sold right in the street. Loud whistles and the staccato snapping of ropes and cables are common distractions near the docks and wharves, as the teamsters and longshoremen finagle their loads and beasts through the mud. Shouts will ring out suddenly and loudly when a mate signals their crew to throw their lines, and slip their moorings. 

The black market is right out in the light in Greynor, which has been known as a haven for pirates and even less scrupulous merchants for years. True. Yet, this also allows anyone with a will to sell their wares as they are able to without fear of legal repurcussions. Because of these and other reasons, lawyers are everywhere, and therefore coffee shops are quite en vogue, as are smoking dens and high-end brothels.

Killian felt strangely at home on this particular stretch of road that day, as he and his sister navigated the canals and byways of Greynor. They stopped for a moment to purchase and eat a couple of slices of tomato pie (with pepperoni and black olives) and listened to a viola player regale all and sundry with a jaunty sailor's reel.

They set off toward mid-town once again, laughing, bellies full of good food, and hearts full of mirth for the first time in months. Killian suddenly laughed, delightedly.

"How long has that fellow with the dark and brooding eyes been following us, sister mine? Tall fellow, green cloak?" He was all smiles; a good fight would be just the thing to brighten his mood even further at the moment. Especially one he did not start himself.

"Since we left the Gilded Goose," Kit replied, with what some folks would describe as a predatory smile. "He seems like one of the woodsmen types that live in the woods up to the north of us here. Birkwud, it's called, or Birchwood, according to the maps I have in my cabin. Do you think he's noticed Oak watching him follow us?"

Killian chuckled low, pipe smoke falling from his mouth and nose in thick clouds as he did. "I would bet money on it, sis. I'd wager he even knows we know he's following us." Smiling broadly, Killian whipped off his feathered hat and bowed low to his sister, indicating a vacant seat at an outdoor bistro calling itself il Cucina Fresca. The smell of the espresso was too much for the tiefling to pass up, so he figured he would at least enjoy himself while he confronted the dark eyed stranger. Kit sat at the proffered round table, which was made of rattan and willow, with matching woven willow seats, as Killian approached the outdoor coffee bar. The barista greeted him with a friendly shout, like they were long lost friends meeting after a decades long seperation.

"Ayyyyyy, paisano!" the barista bellowed, "You know you want a cappuccino! And what, espresso for the lady? Must be your sister, ammirite?" The whole time he was talking, he was working, foaming up the milk with steam and sprinkling nutmeg and cinnamon atop it with a flourish. He set it down on the counter, his other hairy arm already reaching for a contraption he would use to force hot water through a puck he made out of ground coffee. He activated the machine without ever losing eye contact with Killian.

"Thats-a four silvers my friend!" Killian's eyebrows shot up...that was an incredibly reasonable price. The barista chuckled, "just tell-a you friends to walk their feets on over here to the cucina, eh? Best prices around! Best coffee in the city!" Cheers arose from the regulars sitting at close by tables.

Killian grabbed the drinks and headed back to the table, motioning the green-cloaked figure on over as he did so. "Can I get you something to drink stranger?" He shouted out, over the heads of the throng  of people separating them. The forester did not look surprised to be addressed, and began walking over nonchalantly.

"Greetings," he said in a strong, soft tenor, "just let me get myself a coffee." He stalked past the twins and up to the counter, waited behind two craftsmen who were talking about a girl called Rita, and ordered a coffee with sugar.

The  twins sat, sipped at their drinks, and smiled at the stranger as he approached them. They were both buzzing, almost vibrating, with anticipation. It was euphoric, and they were both somewhat addicted to it, and would admit it. The tall stranger lowered his hood to reveal a head full of neat dreadlocks, his black skin glistening in the bright southern sunlight. He had a rueful smile for them in return.

"So, how fast did you pick me up? I wasn't exactly stalking you, but I was wondering who you were and what you'd get up to." The strangers voice was deep and mellifluous. Killian suddenly wanted to hear him tell a story. Maybe a dirty story, full of swinging tits and perky dicks...wait. He had that backwards. Right?

Kit grinned at Killian, laughing at his discomfiture. "Why, oh why, stranger, would you be following a couple of perfectly innocent sailors through downtown Greynor?"

The stranger smiled, a real smile that actually reached his eyes, and Kit relaxed a little. 

Only a little.

"My name's Devlin, and truth be told, I am one of the others hired by the High King's Seat. I am on your team, sailors, though 'innocent' is a term I hesitate to use." Devlin stood, and reached forward with Cass' challenge coin in his right hand. "It is good to meet you."  The twins each produced their own coins, grins turning conspiratorial almost instantly. They had been told, over borscht, that they would be on a team with some interesting personalities. That the High King's Seat had been seeking 'adventurers'. Devlin continued;

"I assume that hulking, red haired fellow over there, the one that has been following me around, is with you, then?" Devlin motioned towards Oak with his head, and Killian waved the big man over. Oak dragged another table over next to theirs. 

"Yes, indeed, forester." Oak sat, seemingly glaring at everyone, then got up to get himself a coffee with a low, feline growl. He stalked over to the bar like a tiger saying hello to an antelope, and ordered a triple espresso, straight, no sugar. He also ordered a samovar of medium roast, to be brought over to the twins' table.

He had been their mate for a good long time, now, and knew that they would soon be wanting more coffee. That was the way, with the twins. They always wanted more. It was exhilarating.

The relationship between Oak and the twins had become much more than transactional. Much more than employer and employee. They had become a family. The hardships they had endured together had bonded them in ways that were much deeper than simple friendship. Oak considered the twins to be beloved siblings.

Taking up his espresso, Oak made his way back to the table and sat, his glower ameliorated by good coffee, which seemed (somehow) to satisfy the newcomer, Devlin, that he was safe. "By the way," Oak growled, "I got one too. Short lady. Scared the shit out of me, never been so surprised in my life." Oak dropped his own coin on the tabletop in front of him, then sipped daintily at his cup. The espresso cup looked tiny in his massive paws. He pushed his challenge coin forward for everyone to see with one sharp, round claw. "She told me she'd hired you, so she figured she'd hire me, too. First logical thing I've heard in a long time,  truth be told." His grumbling brought laughs to the twins faces, and a crooked smile to that of the forester. Oak smiled back, scaring a small child who happened to be walking behind Killian, in the process.

The big man rippled with muscle, and his feline demeanor made him fierce to behold, if you did not know him.

Oak sipped his espresso for a moment. "Do you think the little one who has been following me has also been hired by the small Cass woman?" This surprised the twins, and impressed Devlin, whose eyebrows did their level best to meet his hairline.

"We should invite them on over," Killian rasped, beckoning with his pipe hand and gesturing with his head. A small man emerged, wearing a heavy blue cloak-and-hood, pulled low, wearing tattered cargo pants that had been carefully mended over and over again. His thigh high boots were made for travelling rough, and had been used that way for years, it looked like. Kit's eyebrows shot up at the addition as the pale man pulled his hood back, revealing a fanged face that turned suddenly pensive. He produced his own coin, almost shyly, and placed it on the table for inspection with a gloved hand. 

"My name's Faerinn. The short woman hired me, too." A bag on the newcomer's thigh wriggled a bit, and a mouse stuck it's head out of the bag. A water moccasin stuck its head out of another bag, on the vampire's other hip. The mouse and snake took in the mileu at a glance, looked at each other, and seemed to shrug before disappearing back into their apparent homes. The newcomer, Faerinn, took no apparent notice of this. Nor did he pay any special attention to the grey squirrel, wearing a tricorn hat, that was standing on his shoulder, even though the rodent was holding onto his swept back ear. 

"This is going to be an interesting trip, indeed!" Devlin laughed. "I look forward to actually getting to know each of you."

The crew looked at each other pensively for a minute, before Kit cracked a dirty joke and got them all laughing. Each of them was striking in their own way, whether it be their personalities or their looks; and their personalities did indeed seem to gel, that first day drinking coffee. And then that first night drinking ale. Kit and Killian, of course, opted for dharak, a mildly hallucinigenic compound prized by sailors the world around. They drank shots of it, chased by lager, and the entire crew got pleasantly loose; even Faerinn, who avoided the alcohol altogether. Kit disappeared to a room with a paramour, but Killian and his partner for the evening climbed a firetower and howled away the night so long the entire neighborhood gave them a standing ovation.

"This really is going to be an interesting trip, with those two along," Devlin reflected to Oak, who nodded his feline head in fast agreement.

"They attract chaos like a drop of blood to a famished shark," Oak looked quickly around, ducking, suddenly afraid. "Or a flying shark to a damned man..."

He had gotten into the dharak, too, apparently, thought Faerinn. "Remind me to stay away from that stuff," Faerinn told Sir Squibbles, the squirrel, who stood at attention and saluted in response.

This was going to be a fun trip, indeed, Devlin thought, and not for the last time that night, as a sailor sauntered over with yet another challenge coin, sitting down next to Devlin and pushing it forward on the table for inspection. The newcomer shimmered, and morphed into a translucent green, human-shaped plasmoid with a sarcastic smile and a strange, stilted accent that hit almost all the wrong accents. "Hello. My name is EGO. The woman Cass Elliot, hired me also. Your friends are delightfully rambunctious." Killian's wild yells echoed throughout the city as Devlin, Oak, and EGO sat and sipped tea, sobering up and getting to know one another. Faerinn, blushing furiously, had excused himself to go pack and get some shut-eye when all the noise started in the firetower, and so, the night came to an end. The next day, they would officially be deputies of the High King's Seat, and officers of the realm.

What a turn of events, Devlin mused with a wry smile as he, also, drifted off to sleep, eventually.

Yep. This trip was going to be interesting for sure.

The next morning dawned bright and cool; it was still early spring, and their cloaks were pulled close as they boarded the Endeavor II, which was quite a surreal experience for the twins. Kit felt as if she was walking up the wrong gangplank, at first, but then there she was, walking the planks of the broad deck. She spun around, slowly, taking in every rope and brace, every block and tackle and belaying pin. The lines of the boat were spectacular, curved so gracefully Kit's breath was taken away. Every cleated line and furled sail seemed perfect, to her; every angle and slope just right. The bottom paint was fresh, the trim was pinstriped red. They were just finishing lading for the voyage when the party arrived; barrels of salt pork, and flour, and most importantly, water. The captain and mate had been vocal about sparing food to make room for water; there were plenty of islands to stop and hunt at on the way, if an emergency cropped up, and otherwise, it was only two weeks. They had room aplenty for that.

The ship would be stopping to forage during the voyage, of course, taking the time to travel in relative comfort and ease. The islands of the southern sea were famous for providing fresh water and ample provender...but they could be dangerous if one did not know where they were going and what they were doing. The local tribes were not all fans of northern explorers, even then, and had been known to attack. Other tribes would happily trade for clothing and iron, or even steel, but it took a seasoned traveller to stay safe in the Warmwinds Sea, and even then, things could get dicey in a hurry. Of course, Kit and Killian were some of the most seasoned travellers in the world, having literally been born at sea. It made their appreciation of the Endeavor II that much more poignant.

A brown skinned man in a peculiar turban approached them, addressing Devlin first but taking them all in with his gaze. "Welcome aboard! We have your guest suites ready for you. I am al-Adin, first mate of the Endeavor, and I am here to help you as we travel. Please, do not hesitate to ask me if you are in need of anything."

"Anything?" Killian asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. al-Adin smiled and amended his statement. "Well, anything to do with the ship, that is. She is a good boat, for sure, and a highliner of the finest quality." He was obviously very proud of his position and his ship. It made the passengers feel safe, something Kit and Killian noticed immediately.

These guys did it right, thought Killian.

There was also a soft-serve iced cream dispenser on board. The legendary gnomish gadgetry was a luxury most ship owners simply could not afford to have installed.

Kit was already on her second cone when the crew threw the lines, and the boat slipped away from the dock. It was somewhat cathartic to just lean on the rail on the starboard bow, watching the scene pass. She was usually as busy as a one-armed wallpaper hanger when the lines were thrown, but instead she contentedly watched as the city passed before her, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

It was always a surreal experience for her, like she was transitioning between two distinct worlds, when she left the dock.

Soon enough, life at sea became a routine. Faerinn and his animals would confer much of the day, still very shy amongst his new friends. He was not used to trusting people, and he was unsure why he had decided to do so this time. Yet, here he was, part of a team. Sir Squibbles had told him it was the right thing to do, and he had no reason to disbelieve him, this time.

Faerinn ate with the group, and was always close by during councils, however shy he may have been, and the party enfolded and accepted him without much question, which was a new experience for him. 

He had to admit, he did not hate it. The feeling of acceptance was rare, for the ranger, and he found that he had to admit, he liked these people. Even the massive cat-man...the one who spoke in clipped sentences, was kind. Maybe not nice, but he was kind. At least, he was kind to Faerinn.

It was refreshing. Most people just saw Faerinn's teeth, and blanched. These folks just seemed to see him yawning, not baring his fangs, and coupled with the mysterious and mystical bonds that travelling together seems to manifest, Faerinn found himself starting to like these people.

Despite the betrayals of his past.

Faerinn shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and banished the dark thoughts of the past to the dark recesses of his mind. It was not the time for morbid reflection. It was the time for new beginnings, and Sir Squibbles had agreed with a squeak! and a hulled acorn.

The Endeavor II sailed on into the rippling black infinity that was, and remains, the ocean at night.