Chapter One: Voyage of the Perch (Team Blue)

You know the general knowledge of the Kuo-toa: fish-people, strange religions, boat people even though they swim and breathe water fine. It is unknown if any actually exist in the Nyr Dyv. Almost every sailor has a tale of attacks by fish or lizard people but rarely give enough detail to pin down a species.

The warmth of the inn swiftly fades as the chill fog lays damp upon your skin. The mist off the lake is common enough but the River Quarter has a strange air about it. A foggy day like this usually means that the taverns, brothels and gambling houses are still going strong as the sailors have extra hours to while away. Today the Quarter is too quiet by half until you get to the docks themselves. There isn't much activity loading and unloading but the ships themselves are full of sailors, doing the things sailors do to look busy when they are forced to wait.

Such is the state of the Golden Perch. From the looks of things your bosun has been successful at rousting the crew out of whatever flophouse they found for the night and make ready for departure. As you approach, the broad figure of your bosun, a burly fellow named Barrel and his name truly suited his build. He snaps you a smart salute, a habit leftover from his navy days. "Greetings, Captain, Officers." Barrel nods to you all. "The crew is aboard though those new boys we took on at Willip have wandered off. Good riddance to them." Barrel dismisses them with a wave of his hand. "We're topped off with water, provisions, and gear, but you can't get a river pilot to sign on for love nor money, and I've tried both." Barrel let's loose a torrent of Dwarvish invective calling into question their parentage and species. "They know a race is on and it seems they want their cut up front. And after picking every pocket on the docks, they have the nerve to say they won't leave until the fog lifts. I mean, what did they think all the bribes were for?"