It would all begin in the Trading city of Marienburg, where Captain Florian Gunthersson had just docked his ship. The man had enough worries for now and ran a sea-smelling hand through his hair lightened with age and many stresses. He surveyed the great trading city before him, reveling in the majesty of it all, the kind that only seemed majestic to a particular kind of person, amongst who was he. Great efforts had been made to distinguish Marienburg from it's father civilization of the Empire but the influence was nevertheless there. After all, culture is not something that happens by itself. As such, he saw the all too familiar poofy hats of home, and heard the people with their Reikspiel. It smelled of seaweed, and quite nicely of some freshly baked bread coupled with... it had to be some sort of spirits... brandy, yes cognac! Most certainly good stuff from Bretonnia. He barked some non-descript orders to what remained of his crew to keep them on their toes, and then went on to a bar trailing the smell with his well drilled nose.
The tavern was exactly what Florian had hoped it to be, seeing Dwarfs, an Elf or two, and many different men all drinking and quaffing, not to mention the smell of the fresh spirits was here. He sat down and ordered a glass, asking the owner of the pub for a few contacts. He arranged for some men to repair the wholes in his ship, and got a Dwarf to take a look at his cannons, grudgingly paying the little bugger his due. Finally he stood up and strolled over to a printing shop and asked to make some papers saying he needed a crew; true many were illiterate, particularly sailors but there were often those eager to show off their intelligence by reading it to other passerbies and a curious sailor would also often ask a stranger to read it too, if he was looking for work. Thus, he nailed them all over the place and one outside the tavern for the paper would direct the potential employees there. Thus, he waited, sipping his drink in a corner, occasionally ordering some food, then a room, and finally asking the owner of the place where he got the cognac so that perhaps he could buy some and then take it down to the Empire proper.
The tavern was exactly what Florian had hoped it to be, seeing Dwarfs, an Elf or two, and many different men all drinking and quaffing, not to mention the smell of the fresh spirits was here. He sat down and ordered a glass, asking the owner of the pub for a few contacts. He arranged for some men to repair the wholes in his ship, and got a Dwarf to take a look at his cannons, grudgingly paying the little bugger his due. Finally he stood up and strolled over to a printing shop and asked to make some papers saying he needed a crew; true many were illiterate, particularly sailors but there were often those eager to show off their intelligence by reading it to other passerbies and a curious sailor would also often ask a stranger to read it too, if he was looking for work. Thus, he nailed them all over the place and one outside the tavern for the paper would direct the potential employees there. Thus, he waited, sipping his drink in a corner, occasionally ordering some food, then a room, and finally asking the owner of the place where he got the cognac so that perhaps he could buy some and then take it down to the Empire proper.
