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[Thrax]

---

"You are a very hard man to find," Lomar, cult priest of Oggaroth, said as he gently nudged the sleeping form, sprawled across a table at the Horn of the Unicorn tavern.

Captain Rotten glanced up, sniffing and snorting, at the red-skull helmeted, black-clothed, man. "You stink," he commented surly as he laid his head back down. "Go away."

Lomar poked the man again, harder this time. "I am positive my last bath antedates yours. Wake up! I need to talk to you, Captain Rot-ten," he replied, making sure the name was pronounced slowly and loudly.

The sour-smelling man looked up again, a vicious snarl on his face. "It's RO-then, bone-head! Now go back to yer tomb and leave me be!"

Lomar merely dropped a very large bag of gold coins, some spilling out, onto the table near the man's face.

The groggy Captain sat up and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes; the fog in his greasy-haired head clearing perceptibly. He reached for the gold---and withdrew his hand quickly as Lomar's dagger flashed, nicking it.

"Hey!! Watch that, mate!! Ye could hurt somebody that way!" he growled, examining his hand.

"There's more. Lots. Plenty of drinking and wenching money, dear Captain Rothen." Lomar sat down and surveyed the room carefully. There was only one other patron, sitting across the room, occupied in having his fortune read by a young, attractive, gypsy woman. The only other person, besides the barkeep, was a waiter who busied himself wiping off tables. Noting Lomar looking at him, he hurried over to them. "What be for ya?" he asked.

"For me, nothing. The good Captain here will have an ale," Lomar replied.

"Rum."

"Liquor then."

"Right away," the waiter nodded and went to get his drink.

"Who is he?" Jarvis, the bartender, asked the waiter, Elias.

"No clue. Looks like one of them necromantik fellas from Umbrage if you ask me," Elias replied.

"Keep an eye on them."

"Will do."

Captain Rothen sat up and belched loudly. "Sorry." He looked around. "Where the heck am I?"

"A tavern."

"Oh, good."

"Where's my ship?"

"Likely wrecked and sinking."

Rothen chuckled. "Yer prolly right, mate!" He removed his tricorne hat and scratched his head. "I'll find it; no worries." He turned to face Lomar. "Now, what is it ye want, bone-face? Hey, did yer face get messed up or somethin'? That's one ugly mask."

"Nevermind that. I need you to..."

Elias returned with an open bottle of rum. "Here ya go! Last of the stocks too."

Rothen grumbled. "Last?! What kind of back-water, two-bit, mucked up place is this?!"

"You have drunk our last three cases, sir."

The Captain raised his eyebrows and scrunched up his lips. "Oh, well... that explains it," he replied, taking the bottle and turning it up to his mouth.

Lomar paid the man a few coins and watched as he went back to cleaning tables. Lomar felt he hovered a little too close, but reasoned that his hearing could not be *that* good. He turned his attention to the privateer. "Happy?"

Rothen nodded, taking another swig of rum.

"I understand you used to take shipments of goods, tea most likely, from Papua to Magincia before its destruction. I am told you received an unusual powder in return for it... a "tenderizer" as it was called. Is this true?"

The Captain thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I remember that. You know, I saw that guy not too long ago too... at some party in Moonglow. He wears a mask too... sorta white, friendly-lookin' not freakish like yours. His name was..."

"Magnate Isk?"

"Yeah! Him. He gave me several bags of that powder and I took it back to Papua."

"Do you have any left?"

Captain Rothen frowned. "What, you think I steal from my customers?"

"Yes, yes I do."

Again the raised eyebrows and a slight, nonchalant, head tilt. "Okay, so, mebbe I do a mite... occasionally." He took another swig, finishing the bottle.

"Do you have any left?"

"Mebbe. Yeah, I think so."

"Sell what you have left to me."

"How much?"

"Fifty thousand gold."

"Sold!"

"Let's get it then."

"One more drink before we go... and where is that cursed key?!" he said fumbling around in his pockets. He took the bag of gold.

"I don't have time. Come," Lomar ordered, grabbing him by his surcoat, forcing him to stand.

Elias watched them head toward the door and called out as they exited, "Ya'll come back soon!" Neither replied, but he didn't care; he now had something to report, and he couldn't wait to send word to his employer.

[Thrax]

---

"Is that all you have?" Lomar inquired, closing the pouch of powder that was less than a handful, the "residue" of the shipment Captain Rotten had delivered to Papua. "What did you do with the rest?"

"Made my head swim. Got weird ideas. Once saw a pink kraken," the Captain explained, shaking his head. "Stick to me rum, I will."

"This isn't worth fifty thousand. I will give you ten thousand and not a single coin more." They stood on the deck of the Black Prince which squat low in the water without foundering, despite its bilges being full of stagnant sea water and empty rum bottles.

"But we agreed on..." Rotten started.

"Take it or not. I could, with what I know now, get much more, likely for less trouble," Lomar retorted.

"All right, all right," the Captain conceded.

Lomar handed him a bank check for ten thousand. "Nice doing business with you," he complimented him as he stepped down the gangplank.

Rotten looked at the check and scowled. "You had that ready! You never meant to..."

"So the rum hasn't entirely pickled your brain after all. Amazing. Truly it is," Lomar chuckled as he prepared a spell.

"Why you..."

"Scoundrel?" Lomar suggested as he finished casting a spell of recall.

"Bilge rat!"