The Promise of Plunder!

Ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-tap. Ta-ta-tap.

Eldest's fingers drummed impatiently upon the cloth-covered table in front of her, staring straight ahead of her with a stern expression on her face. Nearby, Feynini waited with a similar restlessness, swinging her legs off the tall chair she sat upon. They'd been waiting in relative silence for a few minutes now, the Viera's drudgerous drumbeat only accompanied by the distant crashing of waves. The wait was made all the more insufferable by the sharp aroma of Lominsan cuisine, which easily pierced the salty sea air. Just a whiff was enough to make their stomachs growl.

"The nerve of that man," Eldest grumbled, her head leaning against a set of knuckles while her other hand kept up its rhythm. "He gave us an exact time and everything, but he's the one who's late. Figures."

"He did say to meet at the Bismarck, right?" asked Feynini, the Lalafell fiddling with the large hat she held on her lap. "Maybe he meant for us to meet at the Drowning Wench."

"I made sure, though it wouldn't be the first time instructions got mixed up" Eldest asserted, watching straight ahead towards the restaurant's entrance.

"Maybe he fell into the bay again..." said Feynini, and Eldest snorted. Finally, just a few moments later, Tommont became visible on the bridge leading towards them, his usual red attire standing out against the pale white of Lominsan stone.

"He looks dry to me," Eldest grumbled. "I wonder what kept him."

The Elezen made his way over quickly, waving at them as he approached. He held something in his hand - a parchment, it seemed - and for one reason or another he was bearing a wide grin.

"You're late," Eldest groaned. "You'd better have a damn good reason for making me go hungry."

"What's got you smilin' so much, Tommont?" Asked Feynini.

"Trust me, I've plenty of reason. I was just finishin' up a deal down at the docks to get m' hands on one of these!" With smug satisfaction, he held up the parchment he had rolled in his hand.

Feynini shot a glance at Eldest, who had a single eyebrow raised as high as it would go. The Viera asked first: "Well? What is it?"

"Is it not obvious?" His grin only widened, and despite an attempt to speak in a low voice, he practically blurted out the words. "We're goin' on a treasure hunt."

Feynini gasped, almost leaping to her feet. "For real?!? You found a treasure map?"

"Aye! Not just any treasure map, either," this time, Tommont remembered to keep his voice low as he leaned in close to the two of them. "It's a map to a relic of The Twelve - a greatbow that's said to be once held by none other than Oschon himself!"

"Truly?" Gasped Feynini, her voice full of awe. As the group's bard, she would die to get her hands on such a weapon. "I hadn't the slightest idea that it even existed!"

"Oh, but it does!" Continued Tommont. "Men say every arrow it fires is imbued with godswind, and a single shot could strike a target dead-on from malms away. There's truly nothing like it."

Feynini was standing on her chair at this point, practically bouncing on it. Eldest, meanwhile, had remained quiet, curling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Have you told anyone else?" Feynini asked.

"Nay, only you two," said Tommont. "If there's treasure to split, we need only divide our findings amongst ourselves. The way I figure, I'll keep any threats at bay with m' axe, you shoot anything that moves, and Eldest can be our healer. Makes sense, don't it?"

To Feynini, the plan seemed foolproof indeed! They weren't a full party, by any means, but between the three seasoned adventurers, they'd surely defeat any obstacle-