Quentin was standing at a table looking down at a map. He was in a sailor's bar in Whitby, his ship The Wanderer was in port and his crew was currently on shore leave. Technically speaking he was part of said crew and onshore leave himself. He was not the captain of his own ship, he had not the nautical skill, instead, he served aboard as a crewman. When they were on the water he took orders like anyone else. But at the dock he was once again the man that was paying for everything and he made the calls. It was a system that suited him and the Captain just fine. But only so long as he respected it. 

But that was not the topic of conversation. The topic of conversation was the map he was currently studying, well the two maps. The first was recently purchased from a cartographers shop and showed the town and surrounding area in great detail. The second he had actually acquired before the first and it was quite a bit smaller, more of a map fragment than a full-on map. It seemed to show the local shoreline as well as having a few lines of dialogue written upon it. 

According to his understanding, years ago a rather notorious pirate had a private cove near this area. That place had served as his base of operations, the town of Whitby being where his crew went to spend money and stock up on supplies. The pirate had made a map to his cove which he had, through some artifact that Quentin currently did not know, hidden from easy discovery. 

Evidentally some tragedy had befallen the captain of the ship and he had sent the first mate away from the cove with the map. That first mate had then split the map up and hidden pieces around the town and surrounding countryside with riddles meant to lead one to the next. This was done to ensure none but his descendants might go and find the cove and the treasures within. However, the first mate had died unwed and as was the way of such things the map had found its way through many people's hands until finally, Quentin got it. 

Which brings us to now.

Quentin was puzzling over the riddle as he stares at the map. He was also waiting to see if anyone would respond to his ad. He would need local help to track down this treasure since they might be able to help him parse through the clues that referenced the local landmarks. He just hoped that what he put in the paper attracted attention, in his hunt for The Cove of Captain Silvermane and his legendary ship The Never Say Die.

The ad was simple.

Help Wanted: Looking for local assistance in tracking down a hidden treasure. See Marquis Quentin North, check either at the Ship the S.S. Wanderer or at the nearby bar, the Seaman's Respite for details. 

A man wandered into the bar and ordered a drink. First things first. He could treat himself. He was going to be rich after all. He didn't look like it. With his old, shabby, second hand clothes, his rather red face with coarse skin, and dark circles under his eyes, he looked like a poor man on the brink of destitution. So much so that the mug of ale he held in his hand might be what had just gotten him one state to the other. Yet against all the odds, he was going to be rich. Or so Harry justified his recent purchase.

Being illiterate, he wouldn't have known of the ad if he had not heard people in another pub talk about it. Half an hour ago. He swayed a little on his legs as he stepped away from the bar and turned to face the room. But he was still sober enough to do business. "IS ANY OF YOU MARCUS QUINTIE NORTH?!" He shouted across the room. A silence fell as conversations stopped and heads turned to look at the loud intruder.

She had no business being in a place like that. Claire could feel the eyes of sailors on her as she entered the Seaman's Respite, quite sure that there were those who would be content calling her a doxie. She was not so, but rather a socialite who happened to be very bored with the lack of adventure around these parts. Or so she thought as she nervously glanced around her. She ignored a few leering glances and raised her voice, "And who might be able to tell me where I can find the good Marquis, Quentin North?" She had a husky voice, a sensual drawl in her words that marked her as Louisiannan, words carefully spoken.

Her dark eyes glanced about until she saw the big man, tilting her head and wondering if he was the man in question. This day, she thought, was as fine as wine.

Marcus Quentin North? Well, that was certainly a new one. He would have to remember that for the future there was bound to be some party where it would get a laugh. Eyeing the loud mouth drunk up and down for a moment the big man speaks into the silence.

"Its just Quentin North, Marcus is a title but I don't much care for it." He had only included it in his ad to add a bit of extra weight to it. People tended to place more faith in random calls to adventure if they were claiming to come from a seemingly reputable source. "What can I do for you sailor?"

He had yet to take note of Claire since her voice had been too small to be heard over the din of the crowd. Compounded with the spectacle of Longbottom she was still in the wings waiting to catch his attention.

Harry had not yet noticed the lady either, which was probably a good thing. Instead, he furrowed his brow at the tall man with the funny title. But then he remembered what little manners he had and tapped his cap. "Me? I ain't no sailor, ser... But I got experience on t' water if ye require it." He hated the sea. "Harry Longbottom. I heard ye were lookin' for someone who knows the area well. I was born and raised here, ser."

She overheard the Marquis telling a fellow that he was, indeed, Quentin North, the man who advertised looking for someone who knew the area. While she didn't know the area, she wanted in on the adventure and wouldn't take no for an answer. She cleared her throat and marched on passed a few, leering sailors and right on up next to the two in question, then she would slap the table with the map on it and say, "Excuse me, but I am going with you." She lifted her chin in challenge to anyone who might say no to her.

Quentin cocks an eyebrow as the man manages to get a hold of himself, at least enough to attempt manners. Learning that he wasn't a sailor was a bit of a surprise, he had the look of one but Quentin may have been making assumptions since it was a port town. "Well, that is the kind of local knowledge I require. From the look of it you seem to be a bit unsteady on your feet, is this a common occurrence?" He had a feeling it was the question was more to see if the man was going to be capable of remaining sober while they were working. He'd worked with drunks before and he had short shrift for them.

Before the man can answer a young woman slams her hand on the table and Quentin's attention turns to her. "That is probably the politest demand I've ever heard." He says mildly. Thus far nothing had seemed to ruffle the big man, though what that said about his character was open to interpretation. Of course, what came next would also be. *SLAM* He brings his hand down hard enough on the wooden table to make it shake and to once again get the attention of every person in the room. Such an outburst might have indicated anger but he was actually smiling at the young woman.


"Just who are you and why exactly should I acquiesce to your request?"

Evidently her negotiation tactic of not taking no for an answer wasn't going to work on him.

"I'm perfectly steady, ser!" Harry defended himself, leaning one hand on the table just in case he did indeed sway. Harry could in fact remain sober for longer periods of time. He often did. Usually when the money had run out, or his wife had managed to lay get hands on it first.

But before he could put forward arguments for why he was absolutely sober - he had none - a woman stepped in, slammed her hand down, and demanded to be part of the group. Harry hardly had time to eye her up and down like a cat eying prey, before Quentin slammed down his hand on the table so hard that is shook and Harry, who had been leaning on it, nearly lost his balance and cursed loudly. But when Quentin demanded to know why they should bring the woman, he recovered and muttered: "I think we should bring her." Surely that man wasn't going to let this opportunity run?"

Laughter danced in her dark eyes as Quentin mimicked what she had done, and asked her just why he should take her along. "Because you need a charming lady in your party?" she quipped and then laughed. "In all seriousness," she drawled, "I'd pull my weight just the same as any man and I crave adventure." Her gaze then shifted to the other man and she tilted her head. He seemed sotted, but he was rallying for her. "I would very much like to come along, if you would have me." She was a bold one.

Quentin noted that Harry was not, in fact, perfectly steady. Still, while that was a mark against the man in one regard Quentin knew that didn't preclude the man from knowing the area well. In fact, it might be a point in his favor. If one had to spend quite a bit of time figuring out where their next drink was coming from they would likely get quite familiar with the area. So long as the man could keep enough of his wits about him to be useful Quentin was sure that he would work quite well for this little adventure.

The young woman explains just why he should bring her along and when she finishes he drums his fingers on the table. "So, your case is thus: I should bring you along because you wish to come along? You have no local knowledge and likely possesses no relevant skills. However, you will pull your weight. I would assume by having to be instructed on how to do the various tasks that may or may not come up at which you will do your best to pull your weight."

The big man's expression gives absolutely nothing away as he makes it very clear that he knew exactly why she was asking to come along. She was a bored socilate who, as she had said, was just looking for adventure without considering the actual ramifications of this decision. "Is that right, miss?" Unlike Harry, Quentin was not prone to thinking with the head between his legs. The addition of a charming young lady to look at was not, in and of itself, sufficient reason to bring her along.

Before she can answer he waves a hand. "I do believe this to be the case and considering that this will be, in my estimation, a mostly land based adventure and a tour around town. I am willing to indulge. With the understanding that I will not be baby sitting you. Expect to get your hands dirty and to keep up on your own. I am willing to bring you along since you've been entirely forthright, something I find admirable, but this does not equate to indulgence." He speaks plainly, his tone making it clear that he was quite serious. She could come but she would work and if she did not or if she complained she would be left behind.