Z-Day, Level 4 Outbreak, Game thread

[Talic]

The Map:

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The city of Eredar is a thriving port town, numbering approximately 5,000 people, founded about 6 years ago, 25 miles from the ruins of Westgate. The need to maintain an open port along this region of the Dragon coast ensured rapid, aggressive expansion.

The Dockyards are well maintained, patrolled regularly to maintain order. This area features over 60 seperate piers, the largest of which are able to accommodate any ship of the line that sails the sea. Approximately 5 piers are devoted to watercraft for private citizen. This area also features multiple warehouses, frequently used as storage points for the transfer of cargo to and from ships and caravans. The dockyards is seperated into 6 patrol zones (for any city watch buffs), each of which is seperated by a ten foot tall wall, with periodic gateways (these cannot be closed, as they are internal passages, designed to control and channel the flow of people, rather than prevent it).

Lower Ward was built to provide affordable housing for dockhands and support personnel. However, a sizeable portion of Westgate's less savory elements have also taken up shop here, and, as such, is not heavily patrolled. However, it is comprised of 4 patrol zones, as well as numerous low-end taverns/bars/inns. One of the more notable is the Rusty Fishhook, which, for those in the know, is the place to be if you're trying to quietly gain access to anything not regarded as legal or ethical.

The Temple District is centrally located, to allow all in the city to pay homage to their deity on equal footing... As long as the deity is good, neutral, or related to the sea. Heavily patrolled, this area is in nearly immaculate condition. Buildings here are farther apart than most other places of the city, sometimes as far as 35-40 feet apart. Temples to all Greater deities and most intermediates can be found here (subject to restrictions above), and shrines to lesser deities can be found as well. Each temple is as different as the god it venerates, though the most impressive temple in the town is the Blade's Edge, a temple to Tyr, founded as a staging ground for forays to eradicate the remaining aberrations in the ruins of Westgate.

The Trade district, intentionally seperated from the dockyards, is divided into 5 patrol zones. About anything legally puchased in a city this size can be found here, and prices range from -10% to +25% market value. This area is only moderately patrolled, and many shopkeepers turn to private security to keep their wares safe overnight, especially as the Trade district approaches the Lower Ward.

The City offices are where much of the Bureaucracy of the city is handled. This area houses the main garrison of the city, 4 patrol zones, a town square, and most organization for the utilities of the city. The Office of Records and Registry is located here, which handles all bounties, rights, and responsibilities for many things, including town records, deeds to property, records of criminal trial, and the regulation of all weapons use within the city of Eredar or its surrounding farmland.

Residential Zoning is just that. Middle class housing mainly for well-off farmers, merchants, clergy, and the like. It also features quiet long-term rooming at reasonable rates, in the form of the Jeska family, and the dozen or so homes they rent out on a regular basis. There are 6 patrol zones here, and the area is moderately patrolled.

Noble's Row is where the wealthy of the city live. There are fewer than 15 estates in this area, and the only patrolling that takes place is along the 20 foot tall walls. Gateways here DO close, and are frequently closed down in the evening. This area is one patrol zone, for staffing purposes, though the guard is instructed to keep to the walls. Noble's row offers a commanding view of the bay, and the city as a whole, being situated on the second highest land in the City.

Eredar Keep is where the Merchant Prince Brastur resides. More a fortified estate than an actual ruling area, the only town business that is really conducted here is court proceedings. Otherwise, the prince and his guests reside in relative comfort, entertaining merchants, and mostly keeping up PR with the various major shipping families.

[Talic]

The story shall open on an otherwise normal morning in the city. The Trade district is just opening for business, and the clerics of Lathander have just recently finished their morning meditations. Players shall all start in the Office of Records and Registry, which is pretty much where anyone who wishes permits to carry non-boxed weaponry of any sort must obtain license, as must permits to practice magic within city walls be obtained. (No, sheathed weapons are not considered boxed. Boxed weaponry is weaponry packaged for long-term shipping.)

Note, this Office is more like a facility. 3 floors, over 3000 square feet, and a fair amount of clerks in each of the many rooms. Players need not start in the same rooms, nor must they be here for the reason ob procuring a license. There are town records of many sorts here, as well as bounty contracts offered, and a host of other city-contracted services. For those with ties to the guard, this is where any report you file gets sent, so that opens up possibilities of filing paperwork, and researching an older case.

[Deathslayer7]

Sarah Krane

Sarah tapped her foot inpatiently in line. She still didn't understand why town guards needed to get licenses to procure their weapons, and on top of that, they needed to pay for the licenses themselves. Greedy government she thought. Sighing, the lines moves a single spot forward. Great she thought. A whole day wasted here, and I can't do a thing about it. (like the DMV! ) Sighing once again, she waits for her turn to register.

[Fan]

Lykan waited paitently in line watching the line move at a slow yet regular pace. He as a warforged understood the need for time, and care to be put into things one would do, and he himself had been forced to come here due to a "anamoly" that had incurred in his ofrging that had granted him supernatural powers. While h himself saw the need in registering everyones weaponry so a crime could be pin pointed; he also felt that one had a certain right to bear arms in self defense, and that it was none of the ruling bodies bussiness.

[TheBlackDog]

Jaeril Harfast

Jaeril stood near the from of a line, frowning. His patience was nearing its end, but there were only a few people between him and registration. He shifted in line to insure the people directly behind him did not step over or around him unintentionally. Stupid humans, he thought, always not looking where they're going and getting in the way of things. Let's get this done so I can find some work by the end of the day.

[Talic]

The man at the front of the registration line sighs, mutters, "by deed, within the city please." A bit haggard, he appears to have not shaven in a day or two, and eyes seem to have dark circles under them, as he glances around the room, seemingly unconcerned over the whole process.

The clerk, a middle aged male gnome, shuffles through his papers, glances up, and says, in a monotone voice, "trash cleanup at the docks is available. Pay would be 2 gold and we'd register your... What weapons were you registering?"

The haggard man smiles, looks back, and says, "My dagger, of course, and the work is fine. Pay's a bit better than I expected, too." producing what appears to be the style of knife best used to cut a steak in one of the taverns. The clerk shakes his head, notes it down, and takes down the man's signature.

As the man moves off, presumably to perform some trash cleanup, the clerk glances up at the next in line, Jaeril, and says in a voice seemingly overflowing with boredom, "Next."

As you approach, you notice the following sign:

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Registering a weapon.

All weapons must be registered. The privilege of bearing arms within the city of Eredar is one that may be attained by any person in the town, provided the right to bear weaponry has not been stripped by conviction of a violent crime. Registrants will need to provide the following to process their registration.

1) Name
2) Length of time you plan on remaining in the city
3) Occupation
4) Processing Fee. This amounts to 2g per year your registration is valid.

For those who cannot afford or do not wish to pay the processing fee, Eredar also accepts work contract, and maintains files on outstanding tasks that need to be performed for the city. Compensation is standard for the task provided, and will suffice to provide weapons registration for up to 2 years.

Tasks outside the city sometimes incur additional risk, so it is within your rights to request a task inside the city, if you do not wish to expose yourself to said risk. The city of Eredar reserves the right to contract you to a task requiring multiple persons, in which case said persons will be placed in contact with you. If performing a task which requires the use of arms, temporary 1 month weapons visas will be issued, allowing for the purchase and carrying of weapons within the city, for the purpose of bringing said weapons to bear on the task contracted.

[TheBlackDog]

Jaeril

Jaeril hops up on the step and places his hands on the counter eagerly.
"Right! Let's get this done as fast as possible. Name: Jaeril Harfast. Length of stay in the city: as long as my work keeps me here. Currently unemployed and looking for work as a guard or bodyguard. Here's the money," he says as he drops two gold pieces on the counter. "I'm registering three weapons: an ax, a bow, and a dagger. Everything good?" Jaeril half grins, half grimaces, and drums his fingers on the counter, eager to have this chore over with.

[NobleSavage]

Issur Nwyndethorn

The door opens once more and a large man walks in, armor softly chiming with each step. Handsome features were contorted into a scowl, though they had begun to settle into a resigned frustration. Wavy black hair topped his head, just long enough to stretch into a lazy half curl or two, under which glowed the emerald of his eyes. The man was clearly impatient, but controlling himself, chest puffed out and displaying the large, brightly colored rose emblazoned upon it. He clenched and unclenched his large hands inside the heavy gauntlets he wore, jingling the mail that ran out from under his breastplate. Everything about the man said 'warrior' and one clearly at a loss without the tools of his trade. Taking a deep breath he stepped into line, counting the heads of those in front of him and taking a deep breath.

[Talic]

Jaeril

Jaeril hops up on the step and places his hands on the counter eagerly.
"Right! Let's get this done as fast as possible. Name: Jaeril Harfast. Length of stay in the city: as long as my work keeps me here. Currently unemployed and looking for work as a guard or bodyguard. Here's the money," he says as he drops two gold pieces on the counter. "I'm registering three weapons: an ax, a bow, and a dagger. Everything good?" Jaeril half grins, half grimaces, and drums his fingers on the counter, eager to have this chore over with.

The clerk shuffles a few papers as you speak, writing pieces of information down as you relay them. Glancing up between words, he then states, in the perfect monotone that can only come from years of dealing with every aspect of the public townspeople, "Jaeril Harfast... Migrant adventurer... 1 year license... Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr. Harfast. If you're looking for work, you can find private work at several of the taverns in the merchant district, as well as 1 floor up in this building. I will say, however, most of the work the city has involves eliminating threats to the landbound merchant caravans entering and departing the city. I believe that the taverns will have more work that's in line with bodyguard/personal protection. Welcome to Eredar, and enjoy the stay."

With that, he stamps a permit with your name on it, and slides it across the counter. At a casual glance, it reads, "Arms license, Class 1(a), Class 2(all)".

With that, the clerk brings one hand to the back of his neck, rubs it wearily, places the gold in a small drop safe, pulls out another permit, glances up at Ms Krane, and states, exactly as before, "Next."

[Deathslayer7]

Sarah Krane

Finally! she thought. She approaches the counter talks to the man.

Hi! she says cheerfully, but sombers down the mood a little at the glare from the guy. Um yeah. I came here to renew my license. Name is Sarah Krane, and I live here in the city. I work as a town guard, and they told me I had to renew my licenese if i was to stay employed with them. So here I am, renewing my license now. She realized she was babbling, and pulls out two gold coins from her pocket and puts the on the table. Here you go, this is for the fee. Oh silly me i forgot. I am registring my longswords. Two of them. She smiles pleasently, hoping to cheer the man up.

[Talic]

The gnome slides the prepared permit aside, and opens a filing cabinet to his right... "Crane...Crane... Hmm. Nothing."

He shuts that one, opens a nearby one, continuing to mutter to himself. "Maybe with a... Ah! Here it is. Krane, Sarah. Looks like you came for renewal not a moment too soon.

The man stamps a couple documents, scribbles your name in, and slides the permit across the counter, along with a secondary form. "Recent updates in city statute allow you to claim reimbursement from your watchpost commander. Submit that form to her, within the next 14 days, and you should receive a refund of your gold. For the life of me, I can't see why they haven't seen fit to add 'town guard' to the list of acceptable services for this. Oh well, no matter. You should be all set. With that, he returns your smile halfheartedly, slips the two gold into the drop safe, and pulls out another permit, moving on to the next in line.

Clearly visible on your new permit are the words, "LAW ENFORCEMENT - Class 4(all)"

The next several persons in line are a bit of a sight. All three register "weapons" that were clearly nonrestricted items. One claimed a mop handle as a staff, another a piece of fencing as a club. The third appears to have the remnants of a sling, though it seems time rendered it useless long ago. All register their "weapons", accept tasks inside the city, and leave with short term city contracts in the Lower Ward for a couple gold each.

With that, Lykan finds himself at the head of the line, as the gnome casts a brief glance in your direction, just after stating, "Next."

[TheBlackDog]

Jaeril

Jaeril smiles as he exits the building, and then begins to survey his surroundings. Huh. I'm glad that's done with. Now to find some work. I could use a drink, too. Tavern, tavern...Eh. I'll find one eventually. He shrugs and walks in the direction of the Trade district, and glancing and his surroundings and taking note of people and places. I should check out the docks too. But first, that drink. Jaeril's grin broadens with anticipation and his pace quickens as he sets off.

This city looks pretty quiet compared to what I'm used to. Should be a good place to relax with an easy job for a few months. And I can feel that seabreeze doing me good already.

[Talic]

@Jaeril:

The morning seems relatively bright and cheery as you make your way to the trade district. From the moment you pass through the gateway to the trade district, the scent of fresh cinammon wafts through the air. Baked goods are being presented in the windows, as many shopkeepers are arriving to their shops. Here and there, the doors remain closed, though figures can just be made out inside the windows.

(The common theme is that any business establishment that serves food is open at this hour, as is any boarding house. Other businesses are still preparing for the day.)

Shortly after entering the trade district, a tavern/inn catches your eye. According to the signage on the wallfront of the building the tavern goes by the name, "The Salty Dog". The look doesn't precisely match the name, as the tavern appears immaculately kept up, brass shining, all doors in good repair. Various nautical implements adorn the outer walls, and more are visible through the large vaulted windows at the ground level. You're not sure how salty that dog really is, but it certainly seems that their clientele isn't. The few people in the main room are well dressed, and have the look or someone quite familiar with both the building and the trade district.

[Fan]

Lykan looked at the gnome in front of him, and a odd new voice spoke inisde him. "Kill him, and be done with it.... kill them all."
But, for now Lykan merely shrugged this off, and spoke calmly to the Gnome recpetionist.
"Name: Lykan, length of stay: 1 year weapon:... supernatural anomilies Occupation: Contruction work, and general labor. I was commanded to come here, and register after I was caught speed welding with my powers."
He slams down 2gp on the table, but as he does the voice speaks again,
"what are you doing allowing this man to take your hard earned money? These powers are you birthright, and he has no bussiness documenting them; just so they can be stored away neatly in some grand filing cabinet."

[NobleSavage]

Issur

Shuffling forward, the line before the warrior shortened, and he was able to make out a humanoid construct speaking with the clerk. I'll not get used to those things soon. What sort of town makes their citizens register such... ineffective weaponry? This is truly a strange place, I'll be glad when the Diet is concluded.

[TheBlackDog]

Jaeril

As he walks down the streets of the trade district, Jaeril begins to relax and enjoy the atmosphere. He draws in a deep breath, and the scents of cinnamon and newly baked bread waft temptingly into his halfling nose. Then he eyes the entrance to The Salty Dog carefully.

Hmm. Seems just like the kind of place where I could find some work. Rich people always need protecting. And it looks like they'd do a decent pint, too. The rumbling of his stomach interrupts Jaeril's thoughts, and he looks down and frowns. ...But I guess I should get some food first. That bread does smell good.

Jaeril walks to the nearest shop emanating good smells, and looks at the selection of breads on display. When he has made his decision, he boosts himself up to the counter and calls to the shopkeeper, "Hey there! How much for that loaf?", and points at a particularly large and crusty loaf of bread.

[Talic]

Lykan looked at the gnome in front of him, and a odd new voice spoke inisde him. "Kill him, and be done with it.... kill them all."
But, for now Lykan merely shrugged this off, and spoke calmly to the Gnome recpetionist.
"Name: Lykan, length of stay: 1 year weapon:... supernatural anomilies Occupation: Contruction work, and general labor. I was commanded to come here, and register after I was caught speed welding with my powers."
He slams down 2gp on the table, but as he does the voice speaks again,
"what are you doing allowing this man to take your hard earned money? These powers are you birthright, and he has no bussiness documenting them; just so they can be stored away neatly in some grand filing cabinet."

The gnome scribbles down a few pieces of information. Lykan... Long-term construction... 1 year permit to perform magical acts.

He stamps a different colored permit, slips it across the counter, along with the gold. Magical permits don't have a fee. This is merely done as a way to keep an eye on the overall abilities of our townsfolk.

The bright yellow permit reads, "Magical Acts permit. Unclassified. Authorization: 3rd Circle."

The gnome calls another several people to the front. Some are townspeople with improvized weaponry... A couple are evidently adventurers. Both choose contracts, and get one for removing a band of sahaguin who are threatening the town's fishing. Pay was estimated at 350g per person, upon completion, along with 2 year permits.

After dealing with those individuals, the gnome's monotone rings out again, "Next. He appears to be addressing Issur, who is currently at the head of the line.

[NobleSavage]

Issur

Eyes focusing on the clerk in front of him, a look best described as a calm surprise comes over the weathered man's face. He'd passed the time meditating on the beauty of Sune, and fumbled for only a moment before finding his words and grandiose airs.

Stepping up to the counter, the handsome man inhales deeply before answering the gnome, projecting his voice so that all might hear. "I am Issur Nwyndethorn of the Fighting Rashieri, bodyguard to Imorasame Syhamipy, most favored of the Radiant Sune. I, and my companions, are here for the duration of the clerical Diet, and for however long after my Lady desires to stay. I am trained in the use of various and sundry arms, including, though not limited to, the guisarme, the bec de corbin, the longsword, the bearded ax, the long bow, all crossbows, and the lesser bladed weapons, as well as these," he allows his hand to drop heavily onto the countertop, fist clenched, two sharp prongs extending from his knuckles. "I would like papers for myself, as well as my eleven fellows."

Graciously waiting a moment, so that the gnome can write it all down, Issur relaxes his posture a bit, slightly decreasing his haughty image. "A question, if I might," he requests, much more quietly than his previous pronouncement. "[COLOR="RoyalBlue"]Why are your citizens required to register such... ineffectual/COLOR]," he hesitates a moment, "weapons," the word almost pains him. "I couldn't shave with some of these blades. Why must they be accounted for?" The man is clearly puzzled, and while officious and formal, it appears he is genuinely attempting to make himself personable.

[Deathslayer7]

Sarah

After finishing her business in the office, Sarah will go to "The Wandering Woman" where her friends are hanging out. They were off duty for another 24 hours, so no doubt they were all getting drunk right now. She sighed and put the document in her pocket. She would get her commander to sign it when they started duty again tomorrow. Heading out, she headed for the Trade/Lower Ward district

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unless you want me to stay here.

[Talic]

@ Issur Nwyndethorn:

The gnome ponders for a moment, before briskly pulling out a magenta form from a desk drawer to his left. "Fighting Rashieri, Bodyguard unit. Contracted to the Temple of Sune, company size of 12."

Afterwards, he stamps the document, and fills out an additional standard authorization, with "Issur Nwyndethorn" written on it, and, in the classification area, "Class 1(all), Class 2(all), Class 3(all)".

While doing this, he smiles wryly for a moment, at your words. "I assume you're referring to the vagrants from the lower ward. Soon after the weapons registration guidelines were passed, a couple of them stumbled upon a loophole in the wording. Basically, they come in with some basic item, call it a weapon, and get a permit for it. The city doesn't require registration for butter knives and driftwood, but it doesn't clearly classify what is and isn't a weapon. Instead of paying the two gold, they get a contract with the city to perform some minor service to the city, and receive compensation for that contract. All the tasks in the city are quite safe, and allow them to perform a few hours work and get a couple coins in their pocket. More found out about it, and now we'll see the same people in here every week, upgrading their weapons licenses for work. Mostly it's the people that can't get work on the docks. The city hasn't changed the law because, frankly, it's not harming anyone. Eredar is a prosperous place. The city makes a lot of money from its trade tariffs. The couple gold these guys get isn't enough to get them in trouble, but it keeps a roof over their heads for a week or two. All in all, it helps keep crime down, and allows everyone to pull together, feel like they're a part of the city.

With that, he glances up, and states, "All that's left is the length you'd like your permits for, and whether you'll be procuring contracts by coin or by service to Eredar.

[Talic]

@Jaeril:

The shopkeeper, a middle aged elven woman, looks up, and smiles. While not particularly attractive in the conventional sense, the smile seems quite genuine, and the twinkle in her eyes that shines past the occasional strands of brown hair (that seem to have worked their way loose from their normal place) belies her age.

"Why, good morning to you! You're mighty energetic today. That's a good thing, I suppose. Not enough people up and about in the mornings, I say. Plenty of good sunrise everyone's missing out o... Oh, where are my manners? That loaf there? You'll love that. I picked up that recipe about 200 years ago, and just had to keep it. Absolutely amazing, great with a bit of butter, or a fine stew. To answer your question, anything on that shelf sells for 2 copper a loaf. Should I bag you up that one, or would you like to wait just a couple minutes for one fresh from the oven? Next batch is almost done.

[Talic]

@Sarah:

The Wandering Woman is much like you'd expect a place that off duty guards hang out at... The furnishings are simple, the barkeep is a burly looking fellow with a jovial smile on his face, and, as the tavern's located right in the trade district, next to the lower ward, the booze is half price for guards.

As such, there's almost always a few on hand, and the fact that it's midmorning doesn't seem to change that. The previous night's shift from several zones appear to be exchanging stories of the night before. If even half of them were true (which is usually not the case), it was a busy night (it wasn't).

As you poke your head in, the barkeep (who goes by the name of Rick) notices you. "Sarah! Your buddies left here about a half hour ago. Some bet about swimming on the docks. Oh, and your watch commander was here. She left this for you."

With that, he slides a paper across to you, folded and sealed.

Upon opening the paper:

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Sarah,
They recently allowed us to claim our weapon permits as expenses. I took the liberty of getting you a form. Just get it back to me whenever, and I'll see you get your gold back.
- Anna Vohacek

(The same form you received from the gnome when you registered is attached.)

[Deathslayer7]

Sarah

Opening and reading the letter, she smiles herself. She tucks it into her pocket along with the other form. Anna was a very pleasent woman and let them get away with a lot. She was respected by everyone who knew her and admired. She gave Rick a quick thanks and a hug before proceeding down to the docks to find her friends.

[TheBlackDog]

Jaeril

The smell of baking bread is too tempting to resist, and Jaeril looks up at the elven woman and replies, "I think I'll wait for a new loaf. I've always liked fresh bread." He begins to dig in his pack for the copper, then glances up again. "While I'm here, is there anything you can tell me about The Salty Dog?" After finally extracting the two copper, Jaeril places them on the counter and stares expectantly at the elven woman.

[NobleSavage]

Issur

"I suppose that is wise... it is too bad some need to feel as if they are scamming the government to invest in it."

Straightening, Issur fully readopts his regal posture. "Yes," he nearly bellows, "We will remain a year or less, I believe. And I will, of course, be paying in coin." Withdrawing a heavy pouch from his belt, he counts out payment for his troupe.

[Talic]

@Issur:

The gnome quickly processes the paperwork, stamping each of the documents with a brisk efficiency. A clerk from the town should be by the temple of Sune within the next few days, just to pick up names and such for registration. Have a great day, sir, and enjoy your stay with us.

With that, he hands you the slips, deposits the gold, nods briskly, and calls out, "Next."

[Talic]

@Sarah:

Sure enough, as you reach the docks, you see a small crowd of your off-duty co-workers at the end of one of the private piers. One seems to have just pushed off in a rowboat, and Is rowing out into the harbor. Thankfully, as it's currently low tide, the merchant vessels are all either at port or at anchor, rendering the harbor relatively safe for small craft. Which is fortunate, for, as you approach them, you find that you can smell the distinctive smell of alcohol from about 10 feet away. Two of the more sober watchmen are stripping out of their armor. You recognize one as Edwin, one of the more grizzled members of the troupe. As far as you remember, he's been on the guard since the city was founded, and from what he's said, was a member of Westgate's town guard before that. The other guy, you're not entirely familiar with, other than he's pretty young, half-orcish, really beefy, and new to the post.

[Talic]

@Jaeril:
She smiles at you, stopping to check the oven, before answering, "The Salty Dog? Well, I can't say I've been in it myelf, but my husband does travel the bars from time to time," (you could swear you see a slightly annoyed expression cross her face for just a moment), "and from what he says, they're too quiet and pricey for his tastes. Still, I'm told their wine selection is excellent, and they're not really plagued by the riffraff that seems to frequent the bars closer to the Lower Ward. It's dressed up rather pretty, but all of those places are just a waste, if you ask me."

She checks the oven again, pulls out a tray with several loaves on it, carefully removes one from the tray, wraps it in a thick cloth, and hands it to you. Careful taking it out; it's still quite hot, and you have a wonderful morning. If you need anything else, my name is Jhora, and I'm open here nearly every morning. Even as she begins talking, you see her bustling around the shop, pulling out various baking ingredients, evidently in preparation to make more dough. Still, she's still paying attention to you, as she talks.

[Deathslayer7]

Sarah groans as she reaches her friends. Cursing under her breath she could smell the alcohol off their breath. She squints off in the distance to see who is in the rowboat, and sure enough it's Johnny. As always, trying to prove himself that he is fearless. Damn it she thought. She turned to Edwin and asked What's going on here?

[Talic]

@Sarah:

"Sarah!, Edwin calls out a bit more enthusiatically than is entirely prudent for a drunk man in boxers on a busy pier during the daylight. "Rook here seems to be under a beer-induced delusion that he is half the swimmer I am! So I figure I'll take a few of his gold and a bit of his pride, get my mornin' workout same time... Johhny out there's gonna row out a ways, and we're gonna swim out there. First man to reach the boat wins... Second, gets the pleasure of swimmin' back to the docks."