Dark Currents a Short Story Collection Set in the World of Freeport

TALES OF FREEPORT: DARK CURRENTS A short story collection set in the World of Freeport Authors: Anthony Pryor, Dylan Birtolo, Richard C. Wright Editing: Jaym Gates Graphic Design: Hal Mangold Interior Art: Hal Mangold Executive Producer: Chris Pramas Green Ronin Staff: Joseph Carriker, Crystal Frasier, Jaym Gates, Kara Hamilton, Steve Kenson, Nicole Lindroos, Hal Mangold, Jack Norris, Chris Pramas, Evan Sass, Marc Schmalz, Malcolm Sheppard, Mat Smith, Will Sobel, Dylan Templar, Veronica Templar, and Barry Wilson Tales of Freeport: Dark Currents is ©2019 Nisaba Press. All rights reserved. Reference to other copyrighted material in no way constitutes a challenge to the respective copyright holders of that material. Freeport, Nisaba Press, Green Ronin, and their associated logos are trademarks of Green Ronin Publishing, LLC. Nisaba Press is the fiction imprint of Green Ronin Publishing, publishing novels, anthologies, and short fiction tied to the rich and varied worlds of Green Ronin’s tabletop roleplaying properties. Green Ronin Publishing 3815 S. Othello St. Suite 100, #311 Seattle WA 98118 Email: [email protected] SampleWeb Site: www.greenronin.com file 1 Table of Contents My Night in Freeport, By Anthony Pryor ..................................3 Unlikely Tides, By Dylan Birtolo ..............................................18 In the Shadows, By Richard C. White .....................................34 Sample file 2 am so excited! After spending the majority of my sixteen summers dreaming of this great and storied city, I am here at last! True, I am Ibut a humble cabin boy, but I am part of the crew of the sloop Lady Margot, under command of Captain Annabelle Ross. Our quartermaster, Mister Rawlings, noticed that I knew how to read and write, and has urged me to put my thoughts to paper in my copious spare time (joke! I have almost NO spare time!). “There she is, lad!” Rawlings said, clapping a hand on my shoulder as we stood at the railing. “Freeport! And don’t worry. You’ll get used to the smell after a day or so.” Rawlings is what’s called a corsair drake — sort of a human-sized winged dragon who truly loves the sea and serves as Captain Ross’s loyal second-in-command. Though his unusual appearance caused me some unease (to the extent that he once caused me to flee screaming when I unexpectedly encountered him while on night-watch), we have since Samplebecome fast friends, and he has taught me many of the skills thatfile I will need as a full-fledged sailor. I am, however, beginning to suspect that his luck at cards is not entirely natural. 3 MY NIGHT IN FREEPORT The teeming city drew closer as our harbor pilot guided us along. Lines were thrown out, longshoremen pulled on hawsers and we came to a halt with nary a shudder, the wonder that was Freeport spread out before us. I’m ashamed to admit that the business end of the process interested me only slightly more than being eaten by sharks, so I sat around impatiently as money and paperwork exchanged hands and stevedores moved to unload our cargo. Once all this dull (and to my eyes utterly unnecessary) activity was complete, Master Rawlings distributed our pay for the voyage, in the exotic coinage of Freeport. My share came to five golden lords and six silver skulls. It was more money than I had ever had in my life, and it was with a glad heart and a sense of adventure that I bounded toward the gangplank after the other crew, eager to sample the pleasures of Freeport. “Not so fast, lad,” a stern voice warned. “We’ve a few things to discuss first.” I looked up to see the imposing figure of Captain Ross. She was a tall woman of middle years. Her chestnut hair was frosted with silver, but the passing of time had done little to sap her vitality. She set her gaze on Master Rawlings. “Quartermaster,” she asked, “were you about to let this lad go ashore unescorted?” Rawlings’ expression didn’t change (but, come to think of it, it never really changes at all… I wonder if all corsair drakes’ faces are perpetually frozen in the same amused and slightly sarcastic smirk?), but when he replied his tone was somewhat… well, I must admit that he sounded downright reluctant. “Well, ma’am, the lad seems to have handled himself well, and I assumed… That is to say I thought that he…” “You thought that you could let him run wild in Freeport while you Samplevisited your usual haunts, did you?” Captain Ross sniffed. “Do youfile recall what happened about twenty years ago, the first time I put you ashore alone in Freeport?” 4 MY NIGHT IN FREEPORT Rawlings cast his eyes down on the deck. “Yes, ma’am.” “Where did you go, Quartermaster?” “Scurvytown,” Rawlings mumbled. “And where exactly in Scurvytown did you go, Quartermaster?” “The Chumhouse, ma’am.” Captain Ross cleared her throat. “I don’t believe I heard you, Quartermaster. Exactly where in Scurvytown did you go?” “The Chumhouse, ma’am.” Rawlings spoke a little louder this time. “And exactly what happened the moment you set foot in that infamous establishment, of which you knew exactly nothing? The infamous establishment where non-humans are not welcome?” Rawlings cleared his throat. “I was a bit young and inexperienced, Captain.” “My point exactly. Tell the lad what happened.” There was a slight pause before Rawlings replied. “Some humans called me a ‘filthy lizard’ and tried to throw me down a cistern.” “Then what?” “Then you and the crew showed up and rescued me.” “Damned right we did. Busted a few heads in the process. No one gets to throw my crew down cisterns except me. Right, Quartermaster?” “Right, ma’am.” “And we wouldn’t want the same fate to befall our young master here, would we?” “No, ma’am, we wouldn’t.” To his credit, Rawlings did sound sincere. But then again, he always sounds sincere. “I’ll not have my new cabin-boy murdered or press-ganged on his first visit. It’ll make us all look bad.” I gulped, looking from Rawlings to the captain and back again. Sample“Ma’am… You mean I can’t go ashore?” file The captain smiled. “Oh, you can go ashore all right. I’d not deny you that, lad. But you’ll need an escort to keep you safe and out 5 MY NIGHT IN FREEPORT of the clutches of confidence artists and dishonest whores. Mister Rawlings?” The dragon-man saluted. “Yes, Cap’n.” “Take our young master out and show him the sights, won’t you? Make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble, and have him back by a reasonable hour.” “Yes, Cap’n!” Rawlings’ face was still stuck in that permanent sly smirk, so I couldn’t tell whether he was eager to take me under his wing or resentful at being burdened with babysitting duty. After the captain’s lecture, it could easily have been either. “You heard the captain!” Rawlings bawled in what I hoped was a good-natured tone. “Get below and secure your gear! Be back here by four bells or I’m going into town without you, captain or no!” “Yes, sir!” I replied, scrambling down the ladder to my berth. Now here I sit, frantically scrawling down my thoughts, ready for my first day in the fabled City of Adventure… FREEPORT. With an experienced hand like Master Rawlings as my escort, I’m sure to have a fine time and be safe all the while! I’ll write more on my experiences later! p p p It is the following day, and I feel like a tattered mainsail after a storm. I have certainly had my fill of adventure for one night, though “adventure” seems far too mild a term for what I have experienced. I fear that although Mr. Rawlings remains a fine officer and a dedicated sailor, his services as an escort and bodyguard have proved somewhat wanting. Not that the day started badly — far from it! Mr. Rawlings and I saw many wonders and experienced much of the city. Of those wonders I Samplewill write more later, but for now I want to state for the record thatfile my unfortunate fall into the inappropriately-named “Fountain of Fortune” was not entirely my fault. 6 MY NIGHT IN FREEPORT But that is for another day… At this moment, I wish to relate last night’s events while they are still fresh in my mind, for they were dark indeed. By the time the sun touched the horizon, we were both tired and footsore, but quite content with our activities. Shadows deepened around us, and lamplighters emerged to kindle night lanterns. “What do you say to supper and a drink?” Rawlings asked. He seemed as tired as I was — his great wings drooped somewhat and he moved more slowly than usual. “I know who serves the best damned brew in Freeport, and he owes me money besides.” I agreed readily, following Rawlings through the Seaside Market, where the vendors were closing up shop, striking tents and packing up their wares for the day. Elsewhere, lamplighters busily set matches to the wicks of the oil lamps that illuminated the area, casting a flickering yellowish glow that made shadows dance in a strange and somehow disturbing fashion. Ahead bright torches flared, revealing a colorfully-painted building decorated with voluptuous images of naked female gargoyles. I noted with interest that the gargoyle which formed the establishment’s swinging doors was especially curvaceous. This, I was certain, was Mr. Rawlings’ intended destination.

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