I was 10 years old when I first came to Port Blacksand I came
with my Grandfather. My grandfather had been a dock worker there when he was younger;
it was where he learned carpentry and the art of storytelling.
He knew quite a few people there and one day he had to pick
up some wood he had ordered, so we had to go and visit his friend Quall a
quartermaster for one of the ship yards there. My Grandfather had warned me
that goblins, ogres, trolls and perhaps worse would be encountered by the reminded
me to stay close and follow his lead always.
So taking up his shillelagh stick and putting on his knife
he rose up onto the front of the wagon and beckoned me to follow. I remember the
day well I was wearing a white tunic, my brown knee length breaches and a pair
of sturdy leather sandals.
I was wearing my belt knife and also carried a smaller
shillelagh as well. Now my family had always had an odd relationship when it
came to the divine game of good and evil we had traditionally worshipped Libra
and Logaan. I hear what you are saying how is that, well it is just one of
those things really.
Both the lady of justice who has watched over me since my
birth and Logaan god of chance and tricksters has often come visit me and sit
down for the odd discussion usually when I least expected it or just when I
needed it but did not realise. So going to Blacksand whilst scary did not
really bother me, I was after all going with my grandfather.
Upon arriving we were stopped by the gate guard who seemed
to recognise my grandfather. It was odd seeing him joke and exchange pleasantries
with trolls. I mean I had seen him speak to gnomes and dwarves plenty of times
even the odd elf but never the darker races.
Well after a short while we were through the gate and in the
city proper. I noticed the town guard as they walked and strutted amongst the
people causing people to part out of their way.
My grandfather headed for his friends place first Jimmy Quicktint the
most famous and skilled Tattooist in Port Blacksand, well tats what my grandfather
and Jimmy used to say. He always treated me well and had red liquorish waiting
for me when I visited.
Then we went to see a Man Orc Herbalist. Grandfather always
called him Yellow Tusk and it was from him he always bought his tobacco. Again
as I would discover on latter journeys they would exchange gossip and rumour
and even pass each other the odd message. From whom I will never know, but I
trusted my grandfather so I never asked.
Lastly before we picked up the wood we went to see Granny
Grumble, now do not get me wrong here, there was nothing pleasant or nice about
Granny Grumble for a start she was a hag, I have never enquired what kind of
Hag but I know she was a friend of my grandfather and that she would never do
him or his harm on account that he had saved her once. I also know she was able to call upon dark magic's and was skilled in the use of the left hand path.
She never really liked me but put up with me on account of
me been my grandfather’s kin. I will
confess in the years since my grandfather passed away I have kept in touch with
all of these characters although some like my grandfather no longer walk this
world. In fact Granny is the only one to still dwell in the pirate city the
others having gone to dwell with their ancestors.
In any case after we had tea with her we got back on the wagon
and made our way down to the docks and the ship yard where the Quartermaster
lived and worked. For my Grandfather it
was like returning home he was hugged and greeted and everyone took a break to
catch up.
Then the measuring and cutting of wood took place and the
wood was lifted onto his wagon and secured for the journey home. However by the
time we had finished it was growing dark and even my grandfather preferred not
to walk the streets of Blacksand at night. So leaving the wagon at the ship
yard we made our way to a tavern he knew and secured a room.
I was put to bed and my grandfather went down stairs to meet
up with old friends have a bit to drink and smoke some pipe weed. I decided I
would creep after him and keeping to the shadows of the balcony listen to his
tales and those of his friends.
This first night in Blacksand has stayed with me for the
rest of my days. He was sitting there with Jimmy and the Quarter Master and a
couple of others I had not yet learned the names of when a big burly man I later learned was a half-ogre
barged past my grandfather and knocked his drink.
The half-ogre although unharmed and still clutching his own
drink to exception to my grandfather been in his way and so started to shout
and holler at my grandfather standing up and wiping himself down with a bar
cloth he looked the ogre straight in the eyes.
The man-ogre I swear flinched. Then I noticed were the bar cloth
had been my grandfather’s Shillelagh now appeared as if it had been there all along.
The half-ogre drew his knife, well he called it a knife but in fact it was the
size of a short sword. People cleared a circle and several goblins began
collecting bets.
I thought about calling the city guard, but my grandfather
had warned me they were worse than the criminals so I held my breath and waited
to see what I could see. My grandfather was calmly asking the half-ogre to drop
his weapon and walk away. He did not want to hurt the ogre and had little
enough time in Blacksand as it was.
The ogre-get just laughed and swung at him. My grandfather
stepped into the attack and brought his stick down hard on the half-ogres knee.
You could hear the crack all over the tavern room. The ogre let out a howl that
was even louder. As the ogre-kin went down my grandfather stepped back out from
under it and once more tapped the creature on the back of the head this time
causing a similar crack.
The half-beast dropped its knife and fell to the floor not
dead but crippled and unconscious. Half the audience stopped to stare and
disbelief the rest started to whoop and cheer. Sitting back down as the friends
of the half-ogre dragged their friend away my grandfather continued to share
tall tales with his friends and he left me wondering just how many of his tall
tales where made up and just how many where true.
That my friends was the first time I had travelled to Port Blacksand, it would not be my last but that is another story.
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