Port Faction Bartender

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Bartender

Well, you look a little lost, mate. Don’t worry, Vinnie will set you straight. Here, have a drink.

(Companion) I’d stay away from that crap if I were you. Place is called the Rusty Nail for a reason. Mostly because everything tastes like one.

Come on, Zoe, don’t be a buzzkill. Live a little.

(Companion 2) Make that two. Or three. On third thought, make it zero. Three point zero.

Sure, drinks for everyone.

Now, what can I do for you? Consider me your guide to this fine, four star resort. Want a room? 50 caps. Want a word? That’s free.

What’s the story with this place?
The island may look like any other port, but buildings don’t make the rules. People do.
If you wanna stay, you’re gonna have to find work. And if you wanna work, well, you’ll find most jobs require a little dirt under your fingernails.

(Dirt?) What do you mean by that?
What I mean is, you’re gonna have to rob a little, kill a little, and maybe do a few things that’ll make a raider blush.
And if that doesn’t sit with you, you might wanna put on your swimsuit and doggy paddle all the way back to the Commonwealth.
See, the people in charge of this little island? They’re pirates. They sack boats. They go on raids. They do whatever they can to make a cap. And this is the nice part of town.
Up north, heheh, those blokes are bloody crazy. It’s their fault we’re at war.

War? 
Yeah. A civil war, if you want to be exact.
See before, we used to be all part of the same team, back when Silver was running things.
But one day the Tankers found a vault full of these souped up synthetics, like this new age rust devil shite.
Made ’em strong. Real strong. But it also made them batshit loony.
Ended up getting too strong and too crazy for their own good. Their leader, Calico Jack, staged a coup, killed Silver, and boom, we got ourselves a war.
Silver though, he was smart. Turned most of our resources into a single stash of loot. Then he hid the cache away.
Both sides have been looking for it ever since.

I’ll take it.
Sure. Find an open bed, drop anchor. You got it till morning.

I don’t have enough caps.
Gotta work harder then. Or smarter, depending on your resume.

So what do you do here?
I’m just an old sea dog with a bum hip and two bad knees.
But it doesn’t matter if we’re in Province Bay or the middle of the Sahara, everyone needs a place to drink.
My job is to provide it.

What can I do for you? Room’s 50 caps, drinks are on the menu.
Need a drink? A room?
Bar’s open day and night. Same as the room.