Chapter 308: One Mans Trash... (1/2)
A short flight later, and they were setting down outside of a small community that was built next to a precipitous cliff that marked the edge of the island. Superficially, there wasn't much of a difference from the rest of the towns that dotted the landscape, but as they got closer, Mike noticed a few differences.
The buildings, at least the ones that were still standing, were obviously designed for people walking on two legs, and didn't seem to have any accommodations for the flying Asani. The reason for that was pretty apparent when he saw that the inhabitants of Skyridge were almost exclusively land-bound humanoids.
Much like in the city near the crystal spike, which he realized he still didn't know the name of, the people here were slowly working to rebuild their lives after the devastation caused by the attack and subsequent crash onto the ocean's surface.
As they walked into town, they attracted a few suspicious glances from the populace, but no one seemed to have the time or the wherewithal to pay them much attention.
[Judging from the number of buildings, there should be at least a few hundred people here, but I'm only seeing a fraction of that actually involved in the rebuilding efforts. They must be doing something else.]
The set up bothered him a little. Considering the size and nature of the Asan, and the level of organization of the local authorities, it should be next to impossible for something like the smuggling of contraband goods to actually be taking place. That wasn't even taking into the account how logistically difficult it must be to move their product while riding on a flying island with a seemingly random flight path.
If the smugglers actually did exist, then they could only do so if those in power allowed them to. Maybe the Elders saw a need for the controlled introduction of Asani technology into the world, or perhaps they allowed Skyridge to continue in their activities under observation so long as they avoided going too far.
Whatever the case was, it didn't concern him too greatly. If he couldn't find anything worth picking up here, then he would simply go back to the central city and try again.
Eventually they were called out to by a large man who was in the middle of moving rubble. He looked a bit like a burly innkeeper, complete with a rather impressive gut, but something about the way he carried himself suggested that he was more of a fighter. ”You folks aren't from around here. What are you doing in Skyridge?”
The man's tone was neutral, but it was clearly a challenge. Suspecting that he'd stumbled across one of the people he was looking for, Mike used Appraise.
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Roger Comstock
Age: 48
Race: Human
Class: Brawler
Title: Reformed Bandit
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”Yes, we were actually directed to this town by a couple in the city. They suggested that this would be a good place to try the local produce.” He answered using the code phrase he was given by the storekeepers.
Roger's eyes narrowed suspiciously for a few seconds, evidently evaluating them, but then nodded. ”Alright. I can show you where our town's farmers sell their best stuff.”
That was the reply phrase which meant they would be taken to one of smuggling dens in town, and allowed to peruse the products they had for sale.
The man led them to the ruins of a barn slightly outside of town. Judging by how decrepit the wooden frame seemed to be, it was likely in disrepair long before the attack. A small section had been cleared of debris, revealing a trap door that Roger opened and started descending through without another word.
They walked down a spiral staircase for several minutes before the passage opened up into a large cavern that may have once been natural, but had been heavily modified by its current inhabitants. A vast majority of the chamber was dominated by a complex apparatus that seemed to be designed to raise and lower small boats through a hole in the floor.
Under normal circumstances, this tunnel must have led out of the bottom of the Asan, but there was currently a pool of seawater that was threatening to flood the chamber, and only a barrier of desperately applied sandbags had kept it from doing so at this point.
A small army of smugglers were currently engaged in holding back the flood, no doubt fearing the resulting devastation of their goods, which were packed into crates around the cavern. Roger led them to a small office built into the wall near the entrance and spoke to the man sitting inside. ”Customers from the city.”
The thin and slightly frail man behind the desk nodded, evidently dismissing their guide, who promptly left, before standing and introducing himself. ”I'm Hurston Lowe, and I run this particular site. Ordinarily, I'd hand you off to one of our agents who handles the more commercial side of our enterprise, but I'm afraid you came at a rather bad time.”
Appraise backed up his statement.
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Hurston Lowe
Age: 47
Race: Human
Class: Administrator
Title: Gifted Accountant
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”Yeah, we can see that.” Morris commented dryly.
Hurston offered a thin smile in response. ”So, I must warn you now that, depending on what you are looking for, you may have to come back later. While I might oversee operations, that doesn't mean I have categorical knowledge of everything we keep in stock.”
[Judging based on his mannerisms, the complexity of the records he likely keeps, and his title; I doubt there is a single item here that he is not aware of. So, is he planning on giving himself plausible deniability in the event we ask too much of him?]
It's also possible that the smugglers were working with the Asani government in some way, and may have a means of quietly reporting individuals who look for certain things.