Three days later I was trudging down the splintered docks, doing my best to ignore the local smells as the locals did their best to ignore mine. It was only polite after all. I had learned the value of politeness early on when I dared to ask a stranger for directions. My eye-socket was nearly back to it’s normal size.

Despite the unexpected horrors of a town where people just dump their chamber-pots into the harbor, I was still able to follow my nose to something edible. That’s where I was headed now.

I pushed open the flimsy door and carefully set it back in place so it wouldn’t fall over.

“Oh, Patrick! What has my favorite bottom-feeder got for me today?”

I pasted a false smile on my face before turning. Frankie was a broad, hairy barrel of a man with forearms that could put Popeye to shame. His wiry beard looked like it was made from brillo pads but his soup pot had never seen one.

He would proudly tell anyone who would listen that he has been cooking the same pot of horrid fish stew that his father started cooking when the little village was founded. The island was pretty much like one of those highway rest stops that truckers will sleep at and restock on chetos, soda and caffeine supplements. Basically, it was gross, shabby, and not at all where legends can rise to greatness. There weren’t even any monsters on the island! Not for thirty years according to Frankie.

He knew those sorts of things. According to him, he knew everything there was to know about the island. I was pretty sure he was just a masterful bullshitter.

“I spill the soup, and people spill the stories” He liked to say through his halitosis.

Despite all this, he was also the only cook on this godforsaken island. He was practically the soup-nazi and so I sucked up to him as best as I knew how.

“Hello Frankie, smells good in here. I’ve got about a dozen clams, seven oysters, and another half a dozen scallops.”

“Excellent! The stew was getting a little thin. Scallops will be just the thing!” Frankie grinned maniacally like he just made the best joke in the world.

I smiled back as if the rhyme wasn’t tired the first time I heard it.

“What are you waiting for, into the pot!”

I complied. I was more likely to get sick from what was in there already than the raw shellfish. So far that hadn’t been an issue, thank god. I don’t think I could deal with it if dysentery was my greatest enemy in this new life. When asked, Frankie energetically confirmed that there were indeed dragons out there and went on a few lengthy tales about the great sea serpents that lurk in the east.

I ate my portion of stew as I absently listened to the story. I figured it was about as truthful as any story told by a fisherman.

Despite all my 21’st century sensibilities about germs and health code violations, I couldn’t deny that the soup was delicious for such a haphazard mess. It was rich and filling. It even gave a minor stat boost.

---

You have consumed Frankie's Famous Fish Stew

You are fully sated

+1 Constitution for 6 hours

---

When I asked Frankie how he did it he just winked at me and said: love and fish guts mate, with a completely straight face.

After I handed the bowl back cleaner than it was when he took it off the shelf, an unexpected notification filled my vision.

---

Your reputation with Frankie of Outset Island has increased to [Friendly]

---

“So how about it lad? You think you’d like to slay one of the mighty dragons of the sea one day?”

I had only been half-listening but I knew an obvious cue when I heard one.

“Yes!” I shouted with sudden fervor “I’ll kill dragons in the sea, I’ll kill them on the beaches, and I’ll kill them in the air! I will be the greatest dragon slayer this world has ever seen!”

I had jumped to my feet to make the assertion, knocking back my stool and catching the attention of every salty whoreson in the house. They all thought that was the funniest thing they ever heard.

“The diver-boy wants to take his short-shorts on an adventure to slay a sea dragon? I’ve seen hardtack with more grit. The boy looks like he’s wilting!”

It irked me to be called a boy just because I had all of my teeth and no obvious scars. I couldn’t really argue with the last insult though. My sunburn had transitioned into the peeling stage. I was shedding skin faster than that useless iguana my class used to keep as a pet.

I put the stool back and blushed furiously at the splintering plank that served as a bar. I was probably getting a little ahead of myself. I’ve only gained one proficiency so far: swimming. While I’m all for a nice relaxing dip in the pool, I’ve never heard of anyone swimming a dragon to death before.

“Don’t you listen to any of these salty sea-dogs,” Franky said a little more loudly than was necessary. “They’re just jealous that you still have the heart of a true adventurer. All sailors have a spark of adventurous spirit. Nothing else could compel a man to put up with such a tempestuous mistress as the sea. But you, my lad, you are a blazing bonfire of spirit! I saw it in your eyes when you first walked in, so red I nearly took you for a lobster. I knew, only a truly brave soul could wear such an ugly shirt.”

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and smiled along politely with the gales of laughter threatening to shake the greasy eatery apart. If I knew the little joke would backfire on me so badly I would never have worn this monstrosity to the retreat.

“Oh, that’s good. I haven’t had a laugh like that in weeks.” Frankie said after the room settled back down. The mood was considerably less drab than it had been before I came in. A rare thoughtful expression crossed Frankie’s face as he scraped his hand against his short beard.

“I’ll tell you what.” He said as he ducked under the bar and rummaged around. “I’ll lend you this beautie” he came back up with the strangest looking bit of scrap. “And if you can catch something with it three days in a row, it’s yours”

That got my attention. I accepted the unidentifiable stick, thanking frankie profusely all the while. My gamer-instincts bore out a moment later when a notification filled my view.

---

Frankie has loaned you a speargun.

Use it to kill a sea-creature three days in a row (0/3)

Success: You can keep the speargun

Failure: Frankie will take back the speargun and make fun of you relentlessly

---

“Quest Get!” I shouted, pumping a fist and letting my weeaboo show a little bit. Frankie scowled.

“I think you’re cute kid, but keep acting like that and you can keep your sea-scraps.”

I beat a hasty retreat with my quest and new speargun if not my dignity.