My ship pulls into port in the dead of night, and the captain runs around waking everyone up. I grab all my possessions, which isn't saying much. I've got 17 septims to my name, an apple, and a dagger. Not much to start a new life with. I yawn, climb up to the deck and step onto the dock.
Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast! Well, it's not much to look at this time of night. Actually, that's good. The dock is covered in junk and barrels, so it's just as well that it's so hard to see out. I shrug and head up the docks to chat with the locals. My mission: find a place to sleep and someplace to buy a bow. After all, what's a hunter without her bow? (Answer: hungry.)
There's a couple of sailors slapping each other silly, but they turn to talk with me. The wood elf is obviously insane, claiming to be royalty and that someone slaughtered all the people in the chapel. Ha! Like I believe that!
Further up the dock is a shabby inn call the Fo'c's'le. I have no idea how to pronounce that, but I poke my head in anyway. The proprietor isn't there, but I learn it only rents to sailors. I try to put on a pirate accent, but the other sailors just look at me funny. Huh. I guess they're not into piracy.
Luckily, though, I find some folks who are. At the end of the dock I find the Black Flag Tavern, a charming joint sporting a skull and crossbones outside the door. Well, if that's not begging the Legion to bust your hideout, I dunno what is.
Inside I find an old bartender named Peg Head Jack. Yep, it's definitely a pirate joint. I chat him up, talking like a pirate for maximum effect. I boast ("Arr! I be a pirate t' rule all pirates!"), admire ("Ye've got quite a peg head there."), coerce ("I'll make ye walk the plank, ye yeller-bellied landlubber!"), and joke ("What'd the cap'n say about the ship's wheel bein' in his breeches? 'Arr! It's drivin' me nuts!'"). In the end he offers me a room in the inn for 10 septims a night! Hurrah!
Further idle chat reveals that the crazy little elf dude's ranting wasn't entirely crazy ranting, and Peggy here gives me an editorial.
I shrug and purchase some beef and a loaf of bread in case I get hungry, setting me back 9 septims. Wait, now I don't have enough to buy a room for the night. Argh! I mean, "Arr!" If I can't come up with the money to buy a room, let alone a bow for hunting, I may have to resort to piracy. Best to cultivate good habits early.
As if to drive the point of my poverty home, the old argonian sitting at the bar leans over. "Hey, buddy," he hisses (though I'm not sure if he's trying to be stealthy or if that's just how argonians talk), "Wanna buy a ship?" Well, I suppose that would help my career in piracy. Is he serious?
Sweet! I only have to come up with... 24,992 septims! Hmm... that might be a while, especially with my current negative cash flow trend. I put him off with excuses, but make a mental note to consider coming back later when I have the money.
The pirates in the corner tell me a little more about the attack on the chapel, this time throwing in some details about the strange new fellow that showed up a couple of days after the attack.
I decide to look around the city a bit more before settling on the Black Flag as the place to plant my rump. Walking back up the dock brings me to the Flowing Bowl, where I get some information on one possible source of income. I don't think I want to join the fighter's guild, though. They'd probably expect me to do some fighting, and I dunno that I'm up to that. Sounds like a job for an adventurer, to me. Caenlorn, a wood elf who claims to be the identical twin of the short dude behind the counter (who looks completely different), gives me some tips about where I can shop:
Bingo! Morvayn's sounds like the perfect place to buy a bow. Now to find a way to make some money.
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