Windfall Island

[The Humble Sage]

Ozal's

Dasha’s answer was a mirthless smile. “This isn’t a business proposition Ozal.” She responded. The Ferengi’s grin was unwavering. Dasha eyed his proffered seat. There were various patrons watching the exchange, and she supposed there was little wisdom in publicly rejecting Ozal’s hospitality needlessly. Dasha approached the bar and sat, though she waved away the drink Ozal offered her. She wasn’t interested in anything he was selling, him and his smug smirk. Ozal leaned in with a feigned air of conspiracy, “Now then, Dasha dear. What is this all about. It must be serious judging by the look on your face. Aren’t you supposed to be open right now anyway?” He asked with the lightest of tones.

Dasha glared at him as she responded. “You’ve been on this island pretty much since it was founded, right?” the Ferengi nodded, “Then maybe you’ve heard of this before. My assistant Kelp, he’s come down with somethin’ right bad, some kinda local affliction. It could be a toxin, could be a sickness. All I know is I’ve never seen anything like it back in Coasta del Sol, and I don’t know how to treat him…” she trailed off as she glanced around the room. There was no sign of Dellarosa, and no way of knowing whether he would even make a trip to Ozal’s today. “He’s gone all clammy and he’s got these painful- looking purple bulges on his throat.” Ozal’s already wrinkled face scrunched in distaste at the description, though she couldn't tell if the sympathy was genuine or just another part of the act.

Dasha was not especially pleased to be asking him about this at all, knowing Ozal he’d find some way to spin this into a favor she would owe him. But the truth was she needed a lead of some kind. Kelp was unlikely to get over this on his own, and Dasha would do it what it took to help him, if what it took was making a deal with Diablo, she didn’t have much of a choice. “You haven’t heard of anything like that before have you?”

[Caira Ayryn]

Silverrock Town, Pardise Bay

In the streets in the center of town, bells rang from town hall’s steeple, merely marking the time of day, yet chiming delightfully throughout the town with an incredibly immaculate sound. The air had warmed from the gentle kiss of the sun, and the man let the rays seep into his aged skin. As he walked, he stretched his muscles, glancing up at the changes the town had made since he’d last visited. It was growing, and there were more decorations, such as plants in windowsills, fresh paint on doors and side panels of houses and shops, each with a familiar quaintness that reminded him of the family he’d never had.

After strolling the streets a bit, Thomas neared the door of a shop and was about to enter when a little girl came up and tugged on his pants. Just prior, she had dashed away from her parents and raced down the street yelling, “The old man is here, Thomas is here! Yippeeee!”

It was natural for for kids, or for anyone, to get restless on an island, he supposed. The world swirling in a completely different sense of time than the rest. Thomas looked down at the child, who was now smiling and saying hello. “Why hello there miss Charlotte, how have you been, keeping up on your grades, I hope?”

“Yes mister,” she said obligingly, and looked up at him with bright blue eyes, eager for his next answer, “Will you tell me a story? What did you do since you’ve been gone? Did you battle an entire fleet of the Empire? Or did you steal some gold from some evil pirates?! Orr! I bet you killed a man by the name of Senior Crimson, the worst pirate of all, he deserves it!”

“Oh, Charlotte my dear, no one deserves that,” Tom said, as though imagining a past life, “But I’ll tell you a real good story, after I go in this shop, can you be a patient good girl and wait? All good captains have the ability to be patient, no matter how eager they are to get to their destinations, if they aren’t things can go very wrong.”

Of course, he knew the little girl’s dream of somehow escaping the island to sail the open seas, she had told him when they first met. Now, the two were unlikely companions, living at the opposite ends of the same story. Charlotte, stood there while the door jingled open and Captain Tom went into the same old shop she saw every day, walking down the same stretch of street. The eleven year old wondered why he even bothered going in, but maybe, it was just special for him. She liked him, Tom, he represented all she didn’t yet have, and all she could become. He was an inspiration and an idol, he was her dream. She wanted to become him, and more, the best pirate, sailor, to sail the Vasty seas. She, who saw the world through eyes of adventure with every decision, every action, she ever made and she carried it around her, in the air she breathed.

Charlotte was eleven years of age, and she stood, waiting, with anticipation thrilling through her body as she waited for Captain Tom to come back out. While she did, she took a sweeping look at the town, and then down at her own clothes. They were dungarees, splattered in whatever traces of adventure the day had brought. Hers, relatively new for the morning, carried only traces of soil and smears of grasses, were a nearly spotless canvas for the start of the day. The blonde’s hair was back in a braid that looked like it had been left in for a few days, and had a few pieces of dry leaf trapped in its cords.

All the same, the scraggly girl had a very pretty face.

[Hiro Protagonist]

Ozal stood there and listened to Dasha's story, after pouring her a complimentary ale. "Purple...bulges?" He asked, racking his memory for anything similar. When he had first come in with the mining operation, he remember the workers coming into his bar after long, harsh days. Injuries, coughs, chills and exhaustion had plagued them day in and day out, but he didn't remember anything about purple bulges. Except.....wait!

"The overseers. I remember one of them came down with something similar...not purple bulges though. It was milder than that. He had these lesions all over his face and neck, light blue. Said the miners had gone down the wrong shaft or something, and called him . None of the workers wanted to touch it, some sort of silly superstition about the foreman being the first to appraise a new vein or something."

Ozal took a minute to fill an order, mixing colorful liquors and fruit pulp expertly into a twisty glass, before sending it out with a server and continuing. "Anyway, foreman goes down, comes up with a hunk of this shimmery, iridescent stuff. Real spooky looking, no one really wanted to work in that shaft after that. Never found out what it was, but the foreman came down with what you were describing. He left the island before it got too bad, I guess. That fancy Imperial tech probably healed him up good."

The Ferengi took another order, mixing three separate drinks while he finished conversing. "Best bet would be to go down into the old mines and look for a sample. I bet a good alchemist or doctor could probably research a cure or something." He slid the drinks down the polished wood bar before grinning and showing his pointy teeth. "Oh, and Dasha? You owe me a small favor for the info. Not now, just sometime in the future. And I pride myself on being a man who collects on his debts."

[Caira Ayryn]

Ring, ring! the bells on the shop door rattled with its open and close. Thomas strolled out with a small bag of goodies and a fresh apple in his hand. His teeth were still great, for an old man, and shone pearly white against his sun-stained skin. Charlotte was waiting outside the shop with her hands in her pockets, and with an impatient pout pronounced on her lip. Thomas took a great big bite out of his favorite fruit and savored the freshness as the juice cleansed his lips.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, his jaws smacked and Charlotte stared at the apple, curious, as she had never set sail on the ocean sea long enough know the meaning of true starvation, nor pure gratitude.

He finished his bite and winked at her and they started to walk at his subtle command, "So, you wanted a story?"

Charlie crossed her arms but looked up at him with a quizzical expression. She blinked, then again, and finally nodded. Thomas reciprocated, "Aye, alright, but first, your mother said you haven't been doing your homework. And asked me to talk some sense into ya, says you'll listen to me fer some reason."

CHOMP!

Another bite of apple squirted from his lips as Charlie grumbled her protest, "I knew she'd say something about that when you went in. Homework has absolutely nothing to do with sailing. Nothing to do with anything beyond this island. I don't belong here, all I want to do is leave! And the adults don't listen. They just look down on me and tell me I don't understand, that they know what's best for me, but they can't tell me what's best for me when they don't know what's in my dreams!" She bent down to scoop some sand from the ground, "There's an entire world out there! I have to go get it before it falls like sand through my hands!" Her small fingers sifted through the fine sand and poured onto the ground. "I thought for sure you'd understand Thomas, but I guess I was wrong, you're just like them!"

Before she could run off, he coughed, "Am I? I didn't hear myself say that I agree with them."

She froze, heels skidded to a stop, and she turned around with the wide, bright, protuberant eyes only a child could have. She held in her gasp and narrowed her eyes, "Really?"

"Sure. You could run off right now, today, this very second and become a pirate, no responsibilities to anyone but yourself. You just have to be sure that's what you truly want. And you better be sure what you're leaving behind is worth it," Thomas paused to look into town, it was quaint, quiet, nicely idealistic.

"Freedom will always be worth it," she said with intense conviction.

"Well, you're right," he nodded, and offered her a wise smile, "But you're still a little girl, you'd be leaving behind a home some orphans dream about, leaving your mother all alone, she'd worry herself into the grave everyday, thinking you'd gotten yourself arrested, gone to prison, were hung, or worse."

"Worse?" She said in excited awe.

"Worse. That you'd never die, but remain trapped forever in some eternal prison where there are sea slugs to eat away every corner of your skin, while you're still alive, starving enough to believe, to wish that that reality isn't real. Yet, you can't wake up, you can barely breathe. Then, you'll remember the home you had, food on the table, a family and community who love you and know your name, who will be there for you when you break bones, who will check your temperature when you're sick or look under your bed when you think you hear a noise." He spoke with truth's almighty conviction, and his eyes glittered as though he had seen it all before, everything he had mentioned and more, and concluded, "Much worse."

Charlotte frowned, "You're just trying to scare me. That's not very nice Thomas, and you're not going to trick me that easily."

"Is it a trick Charlotte? Out there on the open seas, wouldn't you rather know how to get the slugs to never get a lick of you, or to know how to pick the lock to your prison cell than to run right into it and be trapped? That's true freedom. When you can choose how to dig yourself out of the mess you've made for yourself. When you have the knowledge that grants you the ability to free yourself. I'm not saying you shouldn't follow your dreams. I highly promote them, but dear, you must prepare for the times when you are scared and alone, for you never have been, even when you feel like an outsider. Knowing, is true freedom. And that takes years of work. So you know what you should do? You should study now, do your schoolwork because your mom will be sad when you're ready to leave and you go, without looking back. She knows you'll leave someday, so she holds on even tighter. But she'll be ready to let you go when she knows you're prepared. When she knows you've both done all you can, Charlotte, wouldn't you rather remember, on your adventurous deathbed, your mother smiling, rather than scolding you? Wouldn't you die a little happier knowing you followed your dreams, without breaking her heart?"

Charlotte had stopped and was staring up curiously at him, "Did this happen to you, Thomas? Does this count as my story?"

"The truth is what you make of it, do you think that I ran away from home, only to return and have seen my parents slaughtered by the same pirates I had joined?"

Charlie's jaw dropped, "What?!" Her eyes scrolled around the scene and imagined it covered in the blood of everyone who had ever shown her kindness. "No way..."

Thomas raised his eyebrows, not confirming nor denying this story, "Charlotte, don't let that be your truth. Not when maybe you could stop it with a few cannons perched on the top ridge, and a few on the shoreline."

Her eyes glittered now, "We have to reinforce our defenses so they'll be ready when I grow up and leave, that way I don't have to worry about them! Can you teach me Thomas? I want to learn everything so that way, I can be prepared when I set sail. That way," excitement leaked into her voice, "I can continue having adventures rather than die being eaten by slugs on my first mission or watching my mom die!"

Charlotte ran off to the top of the hill and Thomas followed as fast as his middle-aged body would let him.

[Amaterasu]

Melody was three steps from opening the door to Ozal's bar and entering the well-visited bar with her Ozallars in hand, when a familiar voice spoke behind her. "Melody, m'girl! Could you hold the door open for an old man?"

The girl turned around to see herself facing Thomas, the mayor. The mildly aged man was approaching from his house with his cane supporting his bad leg. He was much more fit than he looked though - the fresh air of the sea in the Deeps and his weekly visit to the springs had improved his health after leaving the office job in Coruscant. "Sure. Hold on..." She swapped the notes into her other hand to open the door, but in the process dropped a pair that she hastily picked up again, before the wind could make them fly off. But Thomas had seen them.

"Melody? How come you have notes with Ozal's name on them?"

"Oh, the Ozallars? They're something that Ozal is introducing, I got them from him this morning."

"Ozallars? Sounds like a currency."

"Well I guess they are. He accepts them to pay for stuff in the bar."

Thomas mm-hmmed, then pulled out his wallet. "Can you exchange one? I'll pay you back in credits."

Melody simply handed Thomas two of the notes and waved his offer away. "He gifted them to me, I'm not losing anything over this."

"Mmmh..." He brought the note close to his eyes and grumbled something about "That Ferengi again", then nodded. "Thank you for helping, Melody."

"Anytime. Here you are." She held the door open and let the mayor in, though once she realized that this evening the bar was even more packed than usual and a group of sailors that had taken a particular (unreturned) liking to her were around she turned on her heel and left again. She'd just eat cold this evening.


Thomas on the other hand went straight for the counter. Ozal was absent, apparently - working in the back maybe? Or just somewhere in that crowd? He greeted the townspeople that came by and shook a few hands here and there, but kept his eyes trained on the counter. It was probably not the best moment to talk about this to Ozal, in a busy evening like this. But the barkeeper was a smart man. If he let the thing sit for too long, things would get complicated.

As for the sailors, they were a bunch that had already caused a little trouble here and there in Silverrock. And now, with the booze starting to set in on their empty stomachs and the barkeeper not being around they started to get a bit bold, and raised the volume as they made remarks of the saucy variant towards the female patrons. They weren't a disruption just yet but if nobody shut them down things would take a turn for the worse eventually.

[The Humble Sage]

And there it was, Dasha thought with a grimace. She knew Ozal too well to expect anything less, but she could hardly surpress her shudder as the Ferengi moved on. Still, the Barkeep had given her something to go on, which was more than she had right now. A new vein? She wondered, turning to lean her back against the bar. She watched the patrons of Ozal’s begin to file their way into the room. Could Kelp really be such a fool as to go poking around in the old mines? If that was true she had no idea where to even begin. The Silver mines had gone dry well before Dasha had needed to leave Coasta del Sol. She didn’t even know if any of the miners were still living on the island.

She glanced over as mayor Thomas took a seat to her left. “Didn’t expect to see you here Dasha.” He said, not really turning to face her, his back to the room. “Have you given up on your business so soon?” the way he asked it was a very innocent line of questioning, but Dasha knew he was asking the question for a reason. A good mayor paid attention to what was happening to his town’s economy.

“Not if I can help it.” She said with a short laugh and took a swig of the drink Ozal had offered her. “You don’t know if anyone from the old mining days is here right now, do you Thomas? Someone who would know a lot about the old mining operation?”

Thomas thought for a moment, surveying the crowd quickly. “looks like It’s mostly sailors, Melody was here before the mine collapsed, but I don’t think she would be very familiar with anything about the mines themselves.” He looked a little more, then his eyes lit up and he pointed towards one of the corners. “Oh! There’s one. That’s Jeb, he was one of the smelters who...” Then Thomas trailed off as he caught sight of Ozal, reappearing from a back-room with his usual self-satisfied grin. Thomas clapped dasha on the shoulder, eyes fixed on the Ferengi. “Uh he should be able to help you, Dasha. If you’ll excuse me…”

Dasha nodded as Mayor Thomas moved to intercept Ozal, and she left to see if this Jeb fellow was actually going to be helpful. As she crossed the room, one of the tipsier sailors called out to her, “Hey, Girlie! You all done playing store? Wanna party with us big boys?” many of his table-mates called out incoherently to the same effect.

Dasha frowned and ignored them. Continuing to make for the corner of the room, where Jeb was sitting. Her movements across the room were halted as one of the sailors snatched hold of her forearm as she passed. Dasha cursed herself for being so careless, she had spent enough time as a barmaid that she should have been able to evade the clumsy grab. She hadn't been paying enough attention to her route. As it was she had the presence of mind to plant her stance so that he wasn’t able to pull her onto his lap as intended. Drunk men weren’t rarely as strong as they thought they were.

“Ye let go a’me right this instant pal!” she shouted, caring little. If she made a scene the only one with egg on their face would be Ozal. “Get your Greasy paws off of me, or I’ll slug ye a shiner, but good!”