Secret of Southsun

Lord Faren: Is that you, Kas? My dear, dear friend, I haven’t seen you in ages. What a coincidence, us both being here!
Lady Kasmeer Meade: You were on the same ship I was, Faren. I saw you trying to hide.
Lord Faren: Not from you, dear lady. Perish the thought. No, I was merely… assuming a low profile.
Lord Faren: My exploits drew some unduly harsh reaction back in ol’ DR. I felt it was time for a sabbatical.
Lord Faren: So I am traveling incognito to enjoy a temporary separation from my established social circle.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: What a marvellous idea. I was attempting that very thing.

Lord Faren: I never “fled to Southsun Cove.” I… came to secure my reservations for the upcoming festival.
Lord Faren: But what about you? What brings you to this fair island?
Lady Kasmeer Meade: Business and pleasure. I’m fact-finding for Jory, and I heard this was a one-of-a-kind resort.
Lord Faren: It is that. One with a reputation for dangerous fun… well, danger, anyway.
Lord Faren: Truth be told, I was rather counting on that to discourage any other visitors from DR.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re here. If I did, I wouldn’t have you all to myself.

Lord Faren: So you and Jory don’t do bodyguard work. Too bad. My body could definitely use some guarding.
Lord Faren: I was trained in single combat, of course, but I’m currently facing a much less fortuitous ratio.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: Right, you were Swordmaster Bongo’s prize student. Your parents paid extra for the title.
Lord Faren: Well I don’t like to brag… wait, what?
Lady Kasmeer Meade: Sorry, I meant “training.” They paid extra for the special training that made you so formidable.

Lord Faren: I’d be an excellent pirate. “Captain Faren, Scourge of the High Seas.” And of the high-end taverns.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: I can definitely see you with a cutlass and a corsair’s hat, swashbuckling the day away.
Lord Faren: I like the sound of that! That is to say, “Har! Yar! Avast!” and so forth.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: I suggest calling yourself Faren the Tongueless and remaining silent until you’ve mastered the lingo.

Lord Faren: I’ve built us a house with my own two hands. You’re not the only noble who works, you know.
Lord Faren: Now we can stay here together forever, rent-free!
Lady Kasmeer Meade: That’s sweet, but are you sure it’s finished?
Lady Kasmeer Meade: It looks more like a foundation. For a hovel that’s designed to lower property values.
Lord Faren: I’m a trend-setter, my dear. Soon all our friends will have beach homes like this one.

Lord Faren: Why not? You’re here, I’m here, the waves are crashing romantically upon the shore.
Lord Faren: It’s not like we’ve never kissed before.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: We were eight.
Lord Faren: And I’ve carried a torch for you ever since. Surely proof that my love is no mere schoolboy’s trifle.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: Yes, well… not to change the subject, but I think you need to wax again. Your stubble is showing.

Lord Faren: Have you heard the scuttlebutt? The Captain’s Council is simple riven over the upcoming festival.
Lord Faren: Half want to honor tradition and make the traditional profit.
Lord Faren: The rest think it’s bad form to have a dragon festival in the middle of a dragon war.
Lady Kasmeer Meade: I understand it’s a delicate subject, but isn’t the council always at each other’s throats?
Lord Faren: Only when they’re not trying to stick knives in each other’s backs.

Subdirector Noll: This is the least promising batch of refugees I’ve ever seen. Job-o-Tron! Status report.
Job-o-Tron: Less-than-thirty-percent-of-those-polled-are-currently-gainfully-employed-as-we-define-it.
Subdirector Noll: See? You’re all wastrels! Back me up here, Job-o-Tron.
Job-o-Tron: Subdirector-Noll-is-correct. Get-a-job, wastrels.

Job-o-Tron: Just-a-few-basic-questions. First-question: What-is-your-occupation?
Tergvi: I’m an adventurer. I roam the globe, taking what I can find and living off the land.
Job-o-Tron: Recording-response: “Raider.”
Tergvi: I’m no raider. I kill dangerous beasts and those who do evil. I defend the innocent.
Job-o-Tron: Updating-response: “Muderous-raider-with-delusions-of-grandeur.”
Job-o-Tron: Next-question: What-is-your-dream-job?
Tergvi: To be a traveler. I’ve been from the Shiverpeaks to the Sea of Sorrows, but there’s so much more to see.
Job-o-Tron: Recording-response: “Hobo.” Next-question: What-is-your-greatest-professional-accomplishment?
Tergvi: I’m not answering any more of your questions.
Job-o-Tron: Recording-response: “No-professional-accomplishments.” Now-tabulating-results…
Job-o-Tron: Update: We-currently-have-no-opportunities-available. Please-re-apply-when-your-skill-set-has-improved.

Inspector Ellen Kiel: I’d offer the traditional pirate’s greeting, but your spleen is better unperforated.

Inspector Ellen Kiel: Okay, I’ve got settlers, Consortium bureaucrats, and Captain Magnus, all yelling at me.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: The settlers are getting restless. Plus, the local wildlife is getting frisky, and we all know how that ends.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: Magnus wants it all sorted out before the upcoming festival begins.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: Personally, I’ll be happy if we can just keep everyone from killing each other.

Aggren Vicegrip: I need out of this place. I hate the food, the water, I hate the air. And the sand? Hate it.
Consortium Agent: You there! Your break’s over. Get back to work.
Aggren Vicegrip: And I hate that killing that jerk wouldn’t matter. They’ll have a new jerk in place by morning.
Aggren Vicegrip: I’ve been itching to hurt something. You just volunteered.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: You hotheads are only making things worse.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: You can’t win. The first thing a Lionguard learns is how to end a brawl.

Inspector Ellen Kiel: Right: any more violence and I’ll use all of you to chum the waters of Sawtooth Bay.
Aggren Vicegrip: Go ahead. I’d rather be shark bait than a prisoner.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: You’re not a prisoner. You signed a Consortium contract to be here.
Aggren Vicegrip: Because there was an emergency. Now the emergency’s over, and I want out.
Aggren Vicegrip: And I don’t want Consortium mercenaries on my tail for the rest of my life, waving that stupid contract.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: I’m sorry, but my hands are as tied as yours. You signed it, so you have to stick to it.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: In the meantime, quit stirring up trouble, or you’re fish food.

Henrika: I’m sorry. We were after the records… the contracts that keep us here. We just wanted to be free.
Henrika: He had a plan, and we were getting desperate. He said nobody would get hurt but the Consortium.
Henrika: He was… a sylvari. Kind of a snob. Tough, though. He knows this island inside and out.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: He… of course he does. He spent a lot of time here exploring the place. Didn’t think he’d ever come back, though.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: A reckless sylvari who knows Southsun Cove, and has a grudge against the Consortium? We’re looking for Canach.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: At least we’ve got something to go on. Now to see where it goes.
Henrika: Remind me not to sign any more contracts. Ever.

Inspector Ellen Kiel: Tell me everything. These buildings seem to be the target. What’s inside?
Subdirector Noll: That information is strictly on a need-to-know basis. And mind your tone. The Consortium is the victim here.
Inspector Ellen Kiel: Fine. Have fun being trampled and eaten until someone who needs to know shows up.
Subdirector Noll: Wait, wait. Given the circumstances… These are simple storage depots. Tools, supplies, records…
Inspector Ellen Kiel: Why would wild creatures attack caches of tools, supplies, and records?
Subdirector Noll: Figuring that out is your job. And just so you understand the stakes—this isn’t an isolated incident.
Subdirector Noll: Our Southsun records on the mainland have also been targeted. Destroyed, in fact.
Subdirector Noll: The originals here are all that’s left. I’m having them collected so we can protect them, but I want Lionguard assurances.
Subdirector Noll: If the Consortium loses this important asset, the Captain’s Council will hear about your incompetence.

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