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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
 Posted - 27 Jul 2011 : 08:26:11
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Alysian Solistiel's
The Last Heir:
Have you ever witnessed the might of faith,
when it is wielded as a weapon?
Have you ever seen a heart cut apart the dark
as if somewhere inside our chest,
beneath steel plated breast,
shines brilliantly
a righteous sword of conviction;
A living beating breathing sword
poised to swoop down, an opal-eyed eagle
eager to swallow sapphire doubt.
Tell me now,
have you heard the legend of Jax Sheridan?
As with all great legends,
his is abrupt, and born of tragedy;
as old gods tore brothers,
and friends asunder...
with the sharp temptation of strife and chaos.
Orcish armies swelled across the dales
as hellish serpents fed;
devouring Gordrin's soul with fire...
so he might mar the soil with suffering.
Sowing darkness from a seed
laying waste from edge to border...
the lands lain in ruins,
clutched greedily by cloven hands.
RALLY!
ORDER!
Giants rained mountains down
upon cities of gold.
The sky crackling
with fantastic light
as Gariel returned every boulder in kind
pebble for pebble,
stone for stone.
The mountains shuddered and groaned
beneath the silver fury of Tabranathra.
Tilverton safe, the dragon-king gave chase...
stalking a familiar prey;
Through stormed haunts, where spiders walked...
and Brannus bathed in gnomish blood,
straight to the dirk;
to clash steel and magic,
Silver dragon against black.
No one really knows what happened then,
when the sky began to flash.
No one knows were Jax went
as the city and Gordrin turned to ash...
But I believe the world needs Jax
and I refuse to dream his death.
More than ever we need his faith
to illuminate our path.
So I believe he survived that day
somehow...somewhere...someway
I believe he still fights for Torm
and will, 'til evil is slain.
He will be back someday.
Have you ever witnessed the might of faith?
Have you faith of your own?
We are all our own holy weapons.
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"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 26 Feb 2014 16:08:51
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 27 Jul 2011 : 08:29:42
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The Dark Hand Around Our Throat:
By Alysian Solistiel
It was a troubling time for Daggerfalls,
and all therein could feel the rising tension;
a vile crescendo approaching its apex
ready to break our state and its people down
like shadowy hands hovering over an organ's keys
threatening to unleash a cacophony of chaos.
The house of Morn was growing desperate.
Victus and Annalee growing increasingly estranged
and equally expecting.
Constables disappearing, all but I,
darkness conspiring in hushed whispers
to shepherd our fair city into the throes of despair and ruin.
These evils knew no shame
daring even, to defile our temple
with the theft of youth, faith, and our cities hero
in exchange for blood.
With the pressures of securing the city
and the impending birth of a new Morn child,
the disputes between two talented troupes
could not possibly have come at a more inconveniencing time.
I tried to temper their differences,
tried and failed,
and could only think to afford them a stage;
to settle things beautifully, to honor Jax,
to battle through dueling plays.
No sooner than this decision was made,
'fore alarms sounded through our town's belly.
Red Plume attacked, some forty men...
and were it not for the help of one good priest, Dominic
5 more souls would've been felled by the Plume.
Luckily, this priest of Tymorra offered himself
to our town, our cause, our temple.
He went to work immediately, consecrating ground.
Furthermore, Sorn Milithar blew back into town,
with whatever secrets he had found.
Though that good turn, lasted far too short
as later that night,
while inspecting Morn's tomb...
something sinister was found.
Sorn, apparently met his violent end,
through a portal, underground.
By now, I...
well, I was admittedly at a loss;
Though I've seen foul things before...
I have fought Drow, dragons, and terrorists,
seen friends, neighbors, and loved ones die...
But I...
I had never, truly stared into pure evil's eyes.
That would soon change.
A shudder swept up from the soles of my feet
and spilled over my brow in beads of sweat...
for I looked upon an undead man,
as he was repelled from the temple's doors,
laughing at my lightning bolt
as it surged through his rotten corpse.
Dominic chanted in the church,
as magic bullets tore into my chest,
while two newcomers to the town
Glenn and Mephriel,
attacked the demon with nothing but weapons blessed.
Somehow, we defeated this thing,
and retreated to the Longshot to relax and drink...
when upon hearing the floorboards creak
I went upstairs to my room to see...
My ward Pieragorn hanging,
bound and gagged, by a black cloaked man.
He too seemed to be undead,
if not far more powerful than the last.
More perplexing still, upon his hip
he carried what looked like Valdus.
He said his name was Datorian...
and I had been looking for him.
He was haughty and overt and he pissed me off,
when he claimed smugly, he was behind our misfortunes.
He mentioned names I've not heard in some time,
implied by his hand they died...
Silas the immortal, Navael the Grey,
Sorn, the priest and Gabriel...
he even mentioned Victus' name.
He claimed free reign of our grounds...
of the Morn house...
threatened me, my squire, the lady, the town;
said next I see him, he'd be taking someone away.
I tell you now, I've never been so infuriated.
He vanished into thick of night, as I cut loose my squire.
The next morning, with cooled heels
Pieragorn passed along a parchment
from Victus to me.
He was off to find Zastim, he proclaimed me steward to the crown...
Sune save this town!
Tambourines and laughter filled our streets that day
as townspeople donned new, fine clothes
waiting for the plays set to take place.
I on the other hand, was an anxious mess.
Hurrying about, eager to rid myself of unpleasant business.
Annalee scolded me sternly
as she yelled for arms and pillows
questioning my sword as she asked for her own...
apparently intent on preparing for some invisible monsters
leftover fear from a bad dream she had.
Her mood sour with pregnancy,
recent abandonment, and helplessness
I tried my best to take her tongue-lashing,
ego intact.
There truly is no fury in hell, as fearsome as a woman scorned.
We discussed our defenses
in apparently "unsecured council",
while Dominic held sermon.
I found him, Glenn, and Mephriel as the sermon ended
to pick their brains on our bad omens.
We calmed each other through tenants of faith
and set out to join the town...
Gongs let out,
as the tambourines died down
signaling the start of our plays.
I took to preparations of my own,
as Pelvan and Magdalene
put on admittedly impressive shows.
Then during final act, when I was set to interrupt...
magics went off, on each stage
as cloaked men ruined the plays.
They took, and vanished, some 16 men
as a scream tore through the air...
we ushered Annalee to temple
and set up barricade there.
Cold-steeling ourselves at Annalee's "request"
we marched to the uncovered portal;
Dominic, Glenn, Ishyrun, Mephriel, Koden, and I.
Straight through the portal with a crack of light we went
into a pit of darkness.
I saw him then, first...
Datorian.
Sat atop a cage holding our men
blood spattered all over walls and floor,
Datorian fed. He FED...on Ishyrun's parents.
He proclaimed, haughty as ever
this was somehow, my fault...
Sune forgive me if it was.
I could only gaze on, horrified,
as Dominic bore light into the room.
Then all at once, we attacked...
having seen the brutal truth...
we clashed blades again and again
in the midst of unbelievable shadow monsters
spurned from the unsheathing of Valdus.
We clashed blades again and again...
before to my dismay,
he beckoned some invisible hand,
to hold me at bay
as he tore his sword into my friends.
I wanted to scream, or cry,
or...anything...
he had made me useless,
by barely raising his hand.
Dominic took quick
to calling on his goddess
healing Ishyrun and Koden with touches
as they and Glenn lashed into Datorian.
He reeled from blows cast by their mighty hands
as I struggled against my suspension.
I set Blinkin and Nod free to dance,
and plunged them into Datorian.
He held up Valdus high
and his wounds disappeared;
Again, my heart faltered with helplessness.
But Dominic kept our bodies strong,
though Koden fell,
they pressed on with their attacks
Glenn, Ishyrun, and Mephriel...
and as quick, I think, as it began
the battle ended.
Datorian fell to mist, Valdus dropping from his hand.
Dominic roused Koden back to life, with his prayers,
and bent down to help him stand.
As soon the ground met my feet,
I rushed to the cages to set our people free...
we lost three countrymen that night
But through the faith of those five good men...
we saved the rest from similar end.
It was then they appeared, "The Brotherhood"...
They offered me a deal.
Said to join their ranks, as one of them
or take 20 years of peace.
I glanced about my companions' faces,
finding no thought or want for the former
we took them up on the 20 year offer...
and I resolved then,
to be ready for them by that time.
This is a true account, every word.
We survived these trials
not by sword, or fame, or old-guard sentiment...
but through magics will and faith.
In 20 years, I can only hope
we will have more strength of the same. |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 02 Jun 2013 09:09:26 |
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Fellfire
Master of Realmslore
1965 Posts |
Posted - 27 Jul 2011 : 11:46:18
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| Ha ha! Nice work! I'm currently playing a Ranger/Bard from Daggerdale. Vampires and Zhents are my Favored Foes. Keep the tales coming. Thanks for posting. |
Misanthorpe
Love is a lie. Only hate endures. Light is blinding. Only in darkness do we see clearly.
"Oh, you think darkness is your ally? You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but.. blinding. The shadows betray you because they belong to me." - Bane The Dark Knight Rises
Green Dragonscale Dice Bag by Crystalsidyll - check it out
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 04 Aug 2011 : 11:23:56
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Spontaneous recitations
by Alysian Solistiel
The legend of Jax, to Pelvan the bard
"they say heroes are remembered
and legends never die
that Jax defended Tilverton
tamed dragons and took to the sky
fact of fiction, no one knows
his faithful argue and come to blows
all I say, is it matters not
when it comes to art
all that matters is the thought."
On near-death while fighting dragon:
"Alas in the depths of the cave
through the dark Elysian charged, most brave;
but truly that was his mistake
as the dragon deemed his life: he'd take" |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 02 Jun 2013 09:09:45 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 12 Aug 2011 : 00:53:20
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Recently performed at the new Daggerfalls theatre for the arts.
http://i53.tinypic.com/8wf9zd.jpg
A telling of the war on the Dalelands by Gordrin the Defiler and the heros that defended it.
Two feuding bard troupes stand off depicting the same play in differing fashions.
On the Spur, band members play drums, tamarinds and flutes.
(Magic Mouth Speaker) “Mountains trace the land and keep her bound from the west, and from the south…”
(Magdalene’s Troupe is dressing in browns with brown silks flowing from their arms. They run in synchronized circles around the tip of the spur and stop finally in opposing places)
(Pelvin’s Troupe uses opened stage doors with poles and brown cloth and players beneath the stage, creating rising and falling mountains to the perspective of the audience)
“Upon the tip of Cormyrian lands, shines Tilverton and her holy temple of gold…”
(Magdalene’s Troupe form a circle with actors dressed in grey. They lie on their back at the tip of the spur, and twirl gray ribbons above themselves. A single actress painted in solid gold and completely nude, walks on top of the other actors as though they were steps and knees on the back of two men at the center)
(Pelvin’s Troupe push in painted scenery of Tilverton, and actors fill in the stage area as though they were going about daily routine in the Cormyrian city)
“But as the glow of Gond and his holy servants dispels the shadow of night, the day brings treachery, and death, as giants perch along the mountainside, and commit to the destruction of gold, and appease their dark masters.”
(Magdalene’s Troupe rolls away and disrobes in the open. They are wearing second cloths as peasants, and flee about the spur, screaming and crying, as other actors in brown silk rush the hilltop, and take many of them away in the grips of ‘death’)
(Pelvin’s Troupe quickly uses their poles from the mountain scene, to erect a telescopic set of walkways at the rear of the stage. Actors use ropes to climb to the top, or simply pull themselves up to the lower steps. Each of them has balls of dyed hay that they throw onto the stage at the peasants, as well as lobe into the crowd for added affect. The actors quickly drop down the ropes bring down the stairs)
“From within the city, heroes call out to their gods, and curse the attackers. Soldiers and men at arms rally beside their captains, and see to the wall’s defenses.
From the darkest shadow of Tilverton, rises a spark of light, and an ominous glow. From within it, Gariel of the Herinshire returns in kind, those same boulders, and rains them down upon the beasts. While they run and flee from the pain, they find no relent, no relief, as a silver dragon dives from among the clouds, and lays waste to the mountains.”
(Magdalene’s Troupe sets off a firwork to signal Gariel’s arrival and have prepared a huge silver kite with flowing silk ribbons and attached a sparkler at its tip. The kite has been coated with an uninflammable powder made from local flowers donated by the city florist. The kite swoops down on the spur, guided by two pilots. The actors in brown kneel, as actors in bulk clothing playing the giants are taken down by the legs now and then, and covered over with brown sheets)
(Pelvin’s Troupe has turned the Tilverton background to the other side, depicting a mountain range beautifully painted. Actors bulked up and on short stilts are made to look like giants, as five figures placed in the crowd, pull on black cloaks and rush to the bottom of the stage in front of the audience forming a huddle. One of them pulls off his robe. It is a half elf dressed in grays with elaborate jewelry and long brown hair, who throws a hand full of pebbles at the stage. From the curtains, more hay ball boulders fly on stage as Nathanial Carrington sweeps in just after, playing the part of Jax Sheridan in full armor *made from light tin* and wielding a dull sword. He drives into the giants and takes each one down in a single blow as actors in a silver dragon costume move behind him, attacking those other giants near by. The two work their way across stage and disappear behind the curtains yelling finally “For the Glory of Torm!” followed by a dragon roar)
“Behind them they leave the city of gold, to the north lays the beast, Gordrin and his horde, hiding behind the abyssal forest of shadow. Trees of serpents twist and snap out at them, as their heavy footsteps push onward across the dale lands. For darker magic still forces them to walk, or risk the safety of the entire realm.
Nearest the mountains, the Spiderhaunt woods are darker still and travel within it is treacherous. At the center of the wood is Stormhaunder, the Gnomish village, peaceful and serene. And yet, as they arrive, the cracking of a fire can be heard, before the visceral scene is laid out before them. Gnomes hang from trees, and bodies litter the grounds, as the charred remains of their priest hang vicariously above an inferno.
As Jax approaches, a magical field surrounds him, as Gordrin the defiler appears. The paladin is cut off from the others, and is forced to confront the beast, head on.”
(Magdalene’s Troupe sends six players with bags of salt to circle two actors. One is dressed in grey silks, and wearing a lion headdress. The other, in black with a white mask. This depicts Jax and Gordrin. Both are armed with fake swords, one black, and one silver. They meet in a clash of blades, sparing for a moment, before Gordrin kicks Jax in the chest, and then drives his blade into the hero. Backing away, Gordrin laughs evilly, and is swarmed by dark cloaked actors, disappearing into the troupes tents.)
(Pelvin’s Troupe removes their background and pumps dust onto the stage with billows creating fog. Actors with torches surround the two players, as Nathanial and a masked actor in a sinister costume of black and gray circle one another. They both carry dull swords, and share several blows, before ‘Gordrin’ throws dirt into Jax’s face, and then draws a smaller second weapon, stabbing Jax with the dagger, and then repeatedly hitting him with the larger one. Gordrin smiles evilly over the body of Jax, and then slips back into the mists)
“In rousing, bloody and near death, Jax Sheridan reaches to the sky, calling out for Tabranathra. Soon, the silver dragon descends into the smoke filled village.
Distraught and angered, his wounds burn as he climbs into the saddle. For there is little that can halter the faithful of Torm…And very soon, the paladin arrives at the center of Daggerfalls, now the altar from which this evil dictates.”
(Magdalene’s Troupe brings the kite into a circling maneuver until settling it down on the spur. There, the lion headed actor stands from their crouch, as ‘Gordrin’ and dark cloaked figures ascend the hill and in-circle ‘Jax’. Moments past as the drum beats speed up until the two figures clash for a final battle. Jax is on the defense, as Gordrin rally’s fourth with incredible power. )
(Pelvin’s Troupe return to the stage, the smoke clearing as ‘goblin and Orc’ dressed actors surround the pair before a new ‘Daggerdale’ background. The buildings are dark, and the scenery is painted with heavy blues and purples. Some carry torches, and as the sun begins to set over the play, the ambers lights cascade in ominous hues. ‘Gordrin remarks’ “It is time, time that you fulfill your duty Sheridan, time that you die as Torm requires of all his faithful…It is time, for my reign.” Jax remains solemn, drawing his sword before him as Gordrin does the same. The paladin smiles “Then you have already lost…”)
“As Jax Sheridan and Gordrin the Defiler meet blades, there erupts a lengthy sword duel, neither giving one inch before the other. The blows of Jax fall in heavy before his enemy, as Gordrin’s swift blade cuts and dives in long arcs to press him away. In a momentous back spin, both warriors meet, the blades biting into one another as their arms shake with adrenaline and their eyes piece one another’s souls. It is this final stare down that forces a wretched growl from Gordrin, before both are consumed in a brilliant light…”
(Magdalene’s Troupe rally around the fighters, diving in with wild and dark weapons, keeping both at the center of the duel. The bite and scream at the pair, as though the battle draws them deeper into frenzy. The actors take stride and spin, until they meet finally in a clash of steel. In their last moments, fireworks explode from the play ground, enveloping the spur in light, before they each vanish back into the tents as the smoke fades away)
(Pelvin’s Troupe sway in line with their torches, as the climatic battle ensues. The sword play cracks and pierces the audience chamber, drawing hoots and hollers from the crowd. In a sudden gasp, the crowd hangs at the edge of the seats, before the brilliant flash of light from a firework flashes on the stage. When the smoke clears, the stage is vacant, and the crowd erupts in applause)
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"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 01 Jun 2013 07:37:20 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 17 Aug 2011 : 11:24:07
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Legend of the Gray Knight. As told by Garold Potter in the Red Rock tavern, recently arrived from Tilverton.
- Penned by Mephriel Greysky
“Gather round ye cut-throats an thieves, fer I’ve a tale to put chills to ye bones, an mourn ye foul days an nights…Fer the wrongs ye done, an the lives ye tempered with yer wicked deeds…Tis a tale to bring a tear to yer eye, an steal the evil from yer breath. Les I be a liar, ye best thank the gods the day has nay come without ye, an the night will spare ye her wrath…The Gray Knight twernt always so cloaked in mystery. Twernt always he be called Gray atall. In days before the nobility an Lords, before the high walls of this fair state, or the welcome seasons change as crops spring back to life…Them were darker days, and for’em they brandished brighter stars. Ye still find relics an stone memorials now an then, of those days long past. An blind are the sages who think they’ve heard all the tales this ragged land can offer. Twas a solemn night, in the squalors of Cormyr did I first hear the tale, an I set myself away from the drink in remise of the ending. For all my long years, atonement never set evenly on me tongue, till I wished with all me heart, that such a grace would come to the lost soul, of the Gray Knight.
It began in the muddy pools around a shallow grave, where be a man weeping for his lost love. His sword he drove into the earth, the weight of the thing too heavy to bare now. His helm he left aside him, as the rain pelted it in blanketing chords. Thunder hung heavy in the sky, and nay a moon could be seen through the dark shadows of the night, no warming torch light of civilized folk, nor company surrounding the grave to comfort the broken man. Were it rain or tears that washed the blood away, the man didn’t care. When fer a moment his vision cleared, he could see only deepening water in the hole, an the broken form within. Twer it not fer the insidious laughter that stole the white from his eyes, he may’ve fallen in himself, an drown jus fer the sake of drown’n.
Twas that laughter that took the man to his feet, and turned him about to draw his sword.
“No man,” he said, “No man might cut or wound my heart, no vile beast may sway my strength. If winged serpents perch in heaven, silver fire blinds the wicked. At rise of dawn we pray for purpose, in shadowed valleys of death we lie!” tis a prayer to Lathander if’n I ever heard one! An with sword in tow he saddled himself and bit his spurs into’er flanks. His horse reared and bucked, flying towards that laughter. As the rain fell, and the ground shook beneath’em, there-in out on the bridge on the road, crossing over old Ashaba, stood the vile beast whom’d taken his fair maiden…
There be all manners of dark creatures an serpents to cut out from the fat of this here land. We all know the tides, know better then ta stay out fer nights past on an open prairie without ye ax at hand, or ye sword ready. So know better ye dolts, that fer all the evil in the world, none er dare compare fer the hate that consumes a man in mourn’n. An none would rightly laugh in the face of a hell that’s so sure’n to befall them!
But laugh the dark figure did, and onward did the man in gray ride.
And then, as the world of’t does, she changed the rules ya see. Cause the dark figure knew a thing er two bout the art, an cause fer the place they met, the bloodied ground remembers all the past hate, an all the hate to come. Something happen’d then that wasn’t expected, it seemed the sun was rising! Nay a greater deed then to summon the day, I tell ye by Lathander’s blade! Hah!
…An so was the think’n of the Gray Knight, an so he fired on, his sword high, his horse roaring onward. But the dark figure like I said, knew a thing er two about the art. Knew the smell of blood would open some devil’s gate, knew the man’s scorn would be all it needed, to wake up…
Tiss a tale of sorrow I’m afraid, fer the Knight who could only hate, was taken away an consumed by it. To leave his home, and fall prey to whatever ends. Twas the bardly hope, as one only survivor of that night, that the story go on. Twas written beneath a stone ye see, there along the river bed. An now I’m tell’n ye from what I heard in that squalor of a pub. That Gray Knight, who hated his maiden’s killer so, was struck from the land and vanished in a blinding light…twer only laughter in his wake ye see, as the dark figure was taken right along with’em. An may haps he might’ve slowed, or thought beyond the anger then. But if’n ye are presented with the light of yer God…who be ye to question its legitimacy?
But fer now, have a drink fer the lost Knight, and pray he found some peace…But still I say, on a dark an stormy night, ye can still hear the crying, an the laughter in the fields amongst the serpents bridge. Some’ve said, if’n ye find yerself close to death, ye might just peak through the vale, and watch the tale unfold all over again…”
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"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 01 Jun 2013 07:45:44 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 18 Aug 2011 : 09:43:34
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Farland Ontrisker the Vile:
By Alysian Solistiel
He was carried into town
atop a carpet, riding the wind.
Throwing Baldurian gold by the handful
into the market streets.
He seemed pleased with himself
for causing such social disturbance,
and his haphazard use of coin
suggested he was a noble...
though he had no qualm with announcing as much
as many times as he could.
He spoke ill, though in an educated way,
of our city, our people, and our culture...
yet somehow no-one but I(save a few) seemed to care
or even notice...
as though, every exaggerated gesture
with his lavishly adorned hands
further enthralled my peers into singing his praise.
He demanded a party be held for him
with band and food and drink,
so we gave him use of the Long-Shot Tavern
and I, with "Andara" entertained.
Still, I kept my eye on him
as I picked and strummed my lute
and saw him pouring thick vile potions
into the drink he shared with Alicia.
After time went by,
he and a crowd made retreat to his room.
All but five women came back,
while Sylus and Dominic examined his glass.
Our suspicions grew, and I could stand no more
so I pounded on his door.
Accused of magically seducing our people,
and those bedded women,
he argued with "noble" rhetoric.
"you've no proof", "you've no right"
he responded...(in far more words)
We sat and tried to be civil
as he smoked and bragged all night.
I buried my disgust, and took my leave
waiting for him to slip-up;
but he never did.
Sylus was found that next morning
looking deathly ill...
he had stayed overnight with that man
and was left, apparently, on the floor in vomit...
with nothing but a note and a potion.
It seemed, even Sylus had been taken by him,
as they had their fun at the expense of 5 women's consent.
They had so much fun in fact,
he gave Sylus the means to do it again,
before leaving the town with gracious and loving goodbyes.
It sickened me.
We rode out of town after him,
proof in hand.
After a hard night's ride,
following his carpet across the sky...
he descended some ways away,
and we set up camp.
While we rested in our tent
the earth shook and erupted,
birthing 4 umberhulks.
Tymorra was absent during that fight I s'pose
as Dominic caught one of the beast's gaze
and wandered off confused.
I slashed one with my swords, and saw an axe and arrow,
dig into his face.
The umberhulks seemed focused on me as we attacked,
and then I felt one of Koden's axes cut into my back.
Ishyrun smashed his morning star into the battered umberhulk,
and an arrow finished him off.
The umberhulks turned attention to Sylus
and lashed out their claws,
clanging off his shield one by one..
while I unclasped my dragon-scale breast
and dispatched two of the beasts,
at once, with lightning.
The tides were turning we thought, as three were slain,
and only one remained.
Until another arrow (fired by some stray incompetent Sylvan)
penetrated Ishyrun's eye.
The umberhulk retreated into it's hole,
as we regrouped and treated wounds...
But Dominic was frustrated,
and wanted to follow the last
so we took into the soil.
After a few minutes, we found our prey,
and Dominic charged...shield raised to smash
but again Tymorra looked away,
as he tripped and fell in our path.
Only Ishyrun and I could land blows
before the Umberhulk panicked...
and caved-in the hole.
Buried alive, most of us...
suffocating in dirt...
when suddenly the man we were tracking
extracted us, two by two, from the earthen-tomb.
We went back to his camp, weaponless
and he admitted what I already knew.
He showed no remorse,
but rather some measure of sympathy to our bad luck...
and promised the next morning
to pull our weapons from the dirt, too.
Begrudgingly, I accepted his favor,
and set aside my disgust;
and he stayed true to his word,
and returned our lost gear to us.
I honestly, wanted only to lose my swords once more
deep inside his breast...
for raping, who knows how many innocent women?
But, alas...
he did save our hides that night,
so I, in return to the debt we owed,
temporarily set my fury to rest.
Making it known to myself then...
if I ever saw him again, one of us would die.
Until then, I use my pen...
and shine light on his crimes.
Farland Ontrisker, is a foul-man of "noble"-kind,
this mage, charms cities with spells,
and taints the beautiful with potions and lies.
He is a liar, a rapist, and a thief
in the guise of a noble.
I implore you, do not trust him.
Do not take your eyes of of him,
lest it be too late for you and yours, as well. |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 24 Aug 2011 : 10:19:04
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As told by one local witness trading in Daggerfalls, hailing from Shadowdale, who would have his name stricken from this publishing. These accounts were verified by the Oldskull Inn and its staff.
- Penned by Mephriel Greysky, Harold to the House of Mourn
1394/ Year of the Deaths Unmourned
“On a night not so unlike this, in the quiet halls of the Old Skull inn, there’in stood adventurers, as oft’ the inn will boast. This breed was varied, and even amongst them stood a drow, hidden from view an barely speaking above a whisper. They spoke of lands to the south, and drank heavily into the night. They seemed all lords of repute, and dressed in the finest garb that Daggerdale could offer, or so I am told.
And then there rang out the sound of breaking glass, and the adventurers took to arms…
They spread out among the bar stools and the tables, fighting back dark cloaked figures who had tracked them to this inn of repute.
And so blades and bows took to the windows, and so the doors were slammed open, as men of stronger arms burst into the street, ready to cut down their assasins.
But one amongst them, Victus be his name, and a true man of Daggerdale he be. Raised on the breast of Daggerfalls, through good times and bad. To the north he raced, away from the battle, abandoning his comrades…was he fearful perhaps? Scared enough to tuck tail and run? Hah! Make such a statement in the Broken Dagger and see how far they drag ye corpse behind Ol’step pony and chain. No my friend, Victus be such a breed, and wield he such a sword, that the surge of battle, the focus, lay off to the north. That be where the enemy lay in waiting, and that be where Victus Carrington was oft’too.
And there’n, on that cold and fatefull night, as Victus charged on for the battle at hand…there seemed a flicker of light in the distance. A small flash of sorts, whistling as it came, growing larger as it neared… Victus, being as seasoned an adventure, knew the fireball for what it was, trickery of a mage. One might have thought then, that such a thing would destroy that inn of repute, and certainly spell disaster for the adventurers at hand. But, fear ye not, for Victus Carrington had a plan.
Off the ground he lept, rising, rising higher even still. Heh, such are the magical trinkets that adventurers are so trodden with. Some thirty feet he lept, cresting in an arc, and falling in sequence with that hurtling fireball…when, collision…
The blast I’ve heard, twer such a blast, that onlookers took to cover their eyes, and night was suddenly as bright as day.
But ye the inn still stood, and fight on did the adventurers. For in their minds, they mourned in violent strokes, all believing then, their Lord Victus Carrington, twer dead…
But when the smoke settled, and the last foe was felled, on did the adventurers look, still certain, their Lord was dead…Until of course, the clashing of swords did they hear, and a rally cry…FOR DAGGERFALLS!”
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"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 01 Jun 2013 07:29:07 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 25 May 2013 : 12:12:36
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Just a moment between old friends, and new enemies
Spring carries the scents of lilac and pine on the winds high in the valleys of the Thunder Peaks. Very few men venture so far from the lowlands, and the sheltered forest strengthens the resolve of its fey folk, tickled with joy in their Ariel dances. Streaking across the grass-tips, fairies gather pollen and work side by side with honey bees. Semi-dangerous quarrels are settled in a myriad buzz over claiming flowers and is more often to the loss of the bee, as the fairies drive the swarm on in Shepard like fashion. Giggles are frequent, and the light wisp of their language tips the sound of the wild into a melody fit for a king.
Between the vale, a ripple sends the grass cowering from a change in pressure. A slit in the air appears, drawing down and folding out into space. From within a momentary light sends the gathering into wonder, then fear, as the ripple widens and a shadow pools itself from within, entering their forest domain.
The dimensional doorway separates the bindings of the weave creating new energies spreading out like an inky wave until Silas can fully materialize from the doorway. His regard for nature is only momentary, as the world sulks from his presence in instinctual concern for their lives. His dark cloak wisps in the breeze, coursing with deep purples and blues, while pulling at the greens and browns of his surroundings, displacing his figure as he approaches the mountain side enclave.
Ukiko brushes a line of dark hair from her eyes as she sits up from her gardening, her hands caked in dirt and her trousers stained in no less a fashion. squinting through the sunlight to make out the odd misshape at the border of her land, she begins to separate herself from the meditative chore for more important matters. Matters that her husband has long warned of. The high mage of Mourning dale has finally come.
"Mama, who is that man by the woods?"
She had almost allowed herself to forget Arkasha was playing along the porch with a set of wooden horses his father had carved. She was more surprised then to find him inches from her side when she heard his voice.
"My son! What have I said of sneaking up on your mother?"
The boy looked down to his bare feet with sudden worry shown clearly in his fidgeting.
"Um, you said not to"
"Yes I did. Now go find your father and tell him Silas has come to speak with him."
Before the boy could take off she stopped him short of a run. "And then take your kite and go play"
With a serious look about him, Arkasha took a few slow steps back and then turned and ran for the house; the sound of his voice lingering in the air 'father, father!'
Ukiko watched her child round the porch and could not help but smile at his haste and excitement. He carried so much of them both in his sense of self, Elysian's joy for life and the elven love for all things pure. And yet, he knew the delicate fragrance of even the mildest tulip, and the quips of seedlings and passing seasons that were all wonders of this world, passions her Tuigan mother had long instilled in her. As he always did, Arkasha reminded Ukiko of all the good that had befallen her in these few years since she had come to the Dales. And yet, as she turned back to the slow approach of the necromancer, she was drastically reminded that beside that peace spun a whirlwind of trespasses.
"The child is full of life..." his words void of caring, Ukiko's eyes lost the beauty of this place to the shadow that now dwelled within it.
"Yes, he is." she smiled, though she did not wish to. "Hello Silas, it warms my heart to see you well."
"I am not well in being here Ukiko, and I have little interest in the state of your heart. That is your husband's query."
"Yes, very much so constable," her slight bow expressing as much respect for the necromancer as she could muster.
"Magus" he corrected.
"Yes, I forget these titles. You know I was never wise to the positions of the city. That as well, was my husbands query. My son has gone to fetch Elysian, he is likely in the field dancing, as is often the case."
"How much has changed for the former Steward, to spend his days frolicking in open fields while the world forgets his existence."
"And what could be so important the people of the Dale do not remember the beauty Elysian brought to them in his years of service?" Ukiko asked rhetorically of him, as no answer would be derived from the Magus that could respect those years, no matter their validity.
Silas had lost his attention of Ukiko then, for the distant sight of an elven man, brandishing two swords at his side, their polished steel sheened in the afternoon sun. The Elf flew through the air without any measure of wings but held aloft just as well, cascading over the hills and over the family's home to land with poise only a few dozen yards away, easy distance to cover for any magically endowed creature.
"Nothing so important," Silas's words slipping out in impartial tone "but negligible acts, to which I've altogether forgotten..."
Watching the necromancer come to a parlay with Elysian, she wondered if it would not be so naive to think how truly soft his flesh was beneath all that regalia and magic.
"Just a man," she whispered to herself, returning to the garden, her eyes only breaking from the work to watch the swaying of the red kite in the distance.
"You risk your life by coming here Silas. That is not like the wizard I knew in company" Elysian sunk the tips of his twin blades into the soft dirt and let them sway in his leaving them behind like reeds on a windy lake shore. Both he and Silas knew Blinkin and Nod were anything but simple weapons and at the smallest gesture could find their own spirit and rush into battle beside the elven bard. It was that dance that Ukiko spoke so fondly of, that Silas knew all too well. Even separated by three strides the swords made devastating opponents. Without armor of any sort save for a belt that brandished a soft bag of blue velvet and two more swords sheathed at his hips, the elf bore a sense of tranquility and solace that he was in no immediate danger. Silas however, was not so trusting in this parlay. He approached with staff in hand and cowl drawn low. Though the two stood by with drastic differences, there was a sense of respect beyond simple pragmatic concerns. They knew whatever conflict might arise, this would not be the ground on which they fought. The expenditures would likely leave both at the limits of their powers, and neither Elysian nor Silas thought to test those measures just yet.
"Perhaps, but perhaps you risk your life in defying me Elysian."
"How so?"
"I have sent several messages that I am sure found you. And yet you have not returned any of them. I seek an audience with your squire Perigorn. He is wanted back at court and instead he hides from his responsibilities and leaves matters of his lordship to the regents"
Elysian could not help but smile at the facade and feigned concern for Perigorn's nobility. It was widely known that Silas had stolen that lordship and taken control of all the Dale. Perigorn's life was all that remained of the old nobility.
"You know I cannot tell you where Perigorn is. First of all, I do not know. Secondly he is not my squire, not anymore, and so he is the master of his own life. But more importantly, we both know why you have come here."
"Tell me then, for I am but a servant of his lord, and am in need of council..." Pulling back his hood, the pale visage of Silas bore all the signs of magical tempering, forcing dark blue veins to the surface of his frail shell, shaking the luster of life and brilliance from his eyes and replacing it with a cold stare that seemed to strike out across every plane.
"I would give true council to a good servant of the nobility, Silas...The Avariel are not likely to hear your request for peace. They will continue to strike out against the Dale until order is restored."
"So you are aware of these attacks then. With the new constitution and rights to the nobility I am sworn to make you answer for such treason against the state of the King" his white hands twisted harshly on the staff as if to remind Elysian to watch his boldness of tongue and admissions.
"You may try my friend, but we both know that would be a costly act of which neither of us may survive. I have no fealty to the Dale anymore. I love it and it's people for all we have cherished, but my place is here with my family. Perigorn and the trials of those lands are beyond my sight. Nor do I speak for the Avariel's in their reasoning for keeping the Dale under duress. But I would imagine that Nafayal Redmoon is likely the source of those problems, as rumor reaches even this place that he has taken his crown in Myth Draynor and thus, would partake in drawing on the elven ties of kinship against you."
"By your insistence to the council I imagine." Silas baited, the two former defenders of Mourning dale locked eyes in measured stances then, neither giving room for doubt that they were indeed enemies of warring states.
"It is true I have buried those conflicts with the council Silas, as I buried so many friends. But do not think me so accepted in my beliefs that I hold their ear on matters of state."
Silas nodded in mild acceptance, and turned his back on the elf having taken the meeting as far as he had wished. In a few gestures, the dimensional portal pulled its way back into the view, slipping wide to allow the necromancer passage. As he approached, Elysian pulled at his attention once more.
"It could have been different you know."
"We won the war Silas. For all the loss we suffered, peace was within our grasp. So I must admit I'm kept awake at night wondering the same question I've been wondering since I left...Why?"
Silas regarded only the swirling energies within the door way, pulsating for his touch, almost hungering for his grace in presence. Such sights were the few moments when true life and light were reflected in those cold eyes.
"I recall it was Perigorn, not Silas, who welcomed the protection of the crown," he glanced back for but a moment at Elysian, his figure framed in magical turmoil while he spoke. "As to your waking concerns, I would have you ponder such a thing, for all the nights to come."
As Silas passed through the vale and the shadow of his presence loosened it's grip on the serenity of the enclave, the sound of flapping wings and lithe foot steps brought Elysian back to the matter at hand. There was a sudden realization that he and his family were no longer safe here. Turning, the approach of two Avariel scouts, winged elves who were charged with overlooking the protection of Elysian and his family, broke stride, glass weapons in hand. They stopped in unison only to dismiss their incantations that were but simple gestures away from driving the wizard back into the shadows from which he sprang.
"We saw the warning kite from the causeway my lord. Arkasha is safely in the arms of his majesty's guards and being taken to the palace. It is true then, Silas has come and so knows of this place. If you are still willing my lord," the Avariel beckoned him "I believe it is time to make the final commute to the palace as well."
Elysian could only nod and take Ukiko into his arms as she rushed to his side, finally allowing herself to give in to the rising concern for her husband's life.
"Yes Van'nyel, I think it would be best if we took a short holiday," Elysian's loving smile fell back to Ukiko, who's delicate hands seemed to crush the air from his lungs. Lost in her touch, all doubt fled from his mind that had Silas raised a hand against her or his son, he could not fathom the lessons in death that would have been so swiftly set upon the mage.
"Then Come my lord, your son awaits our return." |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 01 Jun 2013 07:25:32 |
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Snow
Learned Scribe
USA
125 Posts |
Posted - 28 May 2013 : 13:14:52
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| These are really terrific, CBad ... Daggerdale is my favorite geography in all the Realms. |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 01 Jun 2013 : 07:14:22
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| Likewise! I'm glad you enjoy them. There are definitely more to come |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
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Ze
Learned Scribe
Italy
147 Posts |
Posted - 01 Jun 2013 : 08:42:13
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Great job!
Keep up the good work!
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 02 Jun 2013 : 09:08:56
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Dead men tell no tales.
Nights on the Grimvold are cold in Sembian waters. She rarely drops sail unless fleeing from approaching vessels or ambushing merchants under Sembian protection, doing so under Sembian colors. Her crew and captain have no regard for loyalty beyond their own kin and the kin of their kin. It's the spoils of victory and the chance to die in Umberlee's favor that drives their swords and gives gale to the clunker. The Bitch Queen decides when the tide will bring fortune, and when the wave will crest the bow and take her under. Those are the rules by which Ahrum and his band of miscreants hold fast, and it's that natural chaos that Victus Carrington found company with, so far from the Dales and all he had once loved.
"Ay Deck Master," Gideon, an able seaman in his late teens and not much older than Victus's son picked his seat amongst the gathered sailors who were enjoying their break before second shift. He straddled the bench a few feet from the old Ranger, saluting him in turn, then bit into his grog's cork and took a deep swig all in one swift motion.
"Marls' tell'n me yer a pretty decent ranger back in the Dales. Said you's one a them Freedom Ridahs for the Mourn's back when they were fight'n off Zhents," the boy coughed in his next swig from the bottle in a crude attempt to sully his weak talent for drinking.
"Honestly, I fer one believe most all the stories. But the Cap'n tells'em best. Said you were Capt'n fore him and gave up the Grimvold when ye parted company ,back afore take'n up rough-neck'n. See's I got a few shillin's on whether or not you really fought them zhents. No disrespect a'course. Jus talk'n, guess'n I need to hear it from the horses mouth ye figure..."
There was a long silence amongst the crew as the sound of Victus's bones could be heard creaking when he leaned forward to inspect the boy fully, who was obviously drunk and far out of line speaking to him as he was, more so in speaking to the man assigned to kill enemies and crew members alike should they cross that threshold. But the youthful grin and the dull look in Gideon's eye managed to spare him the rod. Instead, Victus took the bottle from him, finished the grog and tossed it overboard knowing full well without the bottle, there was no ration of rum in his future until they made port.
Gideon started in complaint, but was cut short.
"Shut up boy..." they were the only words Victus has spoken in nearly a week, at least to the crew and outside of his usual one liners like 'Get ready to board,' and 'board!"
The ranger began slow, his voice gruff and horse beneath his thick beard.
"Ye don't ask a man if he's washed the blood off his hands, even if he has an he's settled in his sleep with all the faces thats ta haunt him, an he's lost his soul. Cause at best he'll kill you just the same for the tell'n, or he'll tell ye an then you'll have to burden that tell'n along side him. Remember that..."
The listening crew chuckled or spit depending on their temperament at the boy's lack of etiquette, but marveled at his persistence when he shrugged off their remarks and asked again,
"So how bloody are yer hands Master Carrington..." the question beckoned absolute silence.
Wistfully cantering back at Gideon, Victus reached up to his face and pulled off the eye patch that covered his mutilated eye, sparking a few whistles and cringes from the crowd.
"This here," he cut in, his one eye reflecting the silver emblem of Umberlee he produced from around his neck on a string of pearls. "When I took this ship from the scallywags that'd used it to kills us an are men, weren't no pilfering in mind or take'n what I could before another spotted it. It came to me, from what was left of the man that was wearing it, I looked to my fists, fists I'd beat him to death with cause I lost me sword sometime in the boarding. I beat'em to death with the bitch herself, an she loved me for it."
"How ye figure?" someone in the crowd barked, prompting Victus to pull his shirt down and show the bullet hole along his collar before elaborating.
"From somewhere on the stern, a hand cannon let out,"
The men whispered amongst themselves, hand cannons being the best description for the rare, but very real danger of the arbeques that sometimes found its way into these waters by way of rich merchants and well-to-do officers of the crown.
"She tore threw me shoulder an shoulda took off my head, but ricocheted off the platting here," Victus marked the scaring along the back of the holy symbol. "The ball passed threw, but the man aside me wasn't so lucky. I be the ilk of men that don't forget. Cause there's more courage in that man's death than was ever had in taking crowns from evil tyrants or lay'n low wizards of ill repute. Cause ain't nobody gonna sing his praise when we get to port. Ain't no stories gather'n dust in Candlekeep or Suzel that's tell'n what he died for. Theres just this 'old ranger' and a rusted ball'a lead, an maybe a campfire on a cold night fer the tell'n of his story...Terrin Holdman, died in 1382 aboard this here Clunker, The Grimvold. He died so's I could live. So's my son could live an my daughter. Terrin died, an if'n he hadn't, I never would've set about kill'n all those Red Plumes for turning men into dogs an watch'em kill one another over the scraps from their high ended tables. We would'a never met the armies of Cormyr at the borders of Tilverton on the road to forcing the Heartlands into submission to the Crown. I would of never met my wife, and would have never watched those suns rise over Those Mountains in Algoron in that long winter with the Seeley court. Twern't fer Terrin, Ahrum wouldn't be yer captain, and you would still be shovel'n horse shit in Westgate!"
Throwing the necklace at Gideon, Victus snapped forward and took the man by the collar. In a show of strength beyond his years, the old man lifted the boy from his seat and threw him off the portside of the ship. Gideon tried to yell out as he fell, but the sound of splashing water stole his voice, and all around the men ran to the edge to watch the sailor struggle beneath the waters of the Moonsea.
Victus watched the boy fight to stay afloat while a sailor yelled out 'Man over board!' and another rushed for a coil of rope. "Gideon can't swim!" he bellowed, throwing the rope into the waves below.
With a laugh that brought the men to a tremble, Victus called out to Gideon, his voice piercing the reckless havoc that the young man was facing.
"Pray boy! Pray the bitch spares ye life! Pray she gives ye breath an know ye've sold yer soul if'n she answers!"
Turning from the crowd, the ranger swept threw the sailors and nearly shoved past Ahrum, the only man on board that could stop Victus in his passing with a simple glare.
"The amulet..."
"What about it?" Victus growled.
"It still works, yes?"
Victus looked over his shoulder at the chaos that ensued while the men tangled themselves to save Gideon from the sea.
"Ye, she still works. S'long as the boy's got a sense to ask for help. Yer Goddess 'll let'em breath water an ye men can fish him outta the pond. If not, I can still keep watch with me good eye." |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 02 Jun 2013 09:17:57 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 21 Aug 2013 : 08:23:02
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The port of Thentia grew distant in the Gull's wake. The sleek Brig held sway in the wind, though not at full speed. Her seasoned crew, varied men signed on from ports across the Moonsea, worked in fierce command as they tried to teach her greenhorn sailors the ropes. The crew of the Black Gull were sea worthy enough, but the whole of the rigging team stood on the mass, not individuals. The shouts and calls of veteran men pummeled the former slaves who, though now free of their bondage, remained under the harsh scrutiny of journeymen eager to get underway in a ship-shape manner. Under duress of a favorable wind and the chances it foretold, it was the officers who marched along the deck making corrections and stinging jests that brought the ship about and filled her sails. All while the ships captain stood before the bow, spyglass in hand, his concern both on the winds and his compass. It was in view of the ships surgeon, the lady Jesha, her coat snapping in the breeze, the trail of a blue sash snaking from her belt, that inspired Mr. Hudson the ships first mate, into a shantie. Though busied in their work, it took only a few moments before the crew found their voice and bellowed out the harmony as Hudson, correcting course at the wheel and tapping his boot in pace, began to sing lead with resounding fluency. Captain Turel found himself drawn from the bow, the horizon keeping no secrets in the early morning light. Setting away his glass and looked to young Adrin who had been shadowing him for most of the day, the boy handed Turel his grog, to which the captain rustled the boy's hair and sent him off to powder deck to prep the cannon locks. Turel leaned against the beam and tipped his hat to Mr. Hudson across deck who smiled as he broke into the second verse. Jesha, the esteemed priest to their lady of luck Tymora, approached Turel at the side of the ship tipping her swell to the captain as she listened and enjoyed the song.
"How does our lady this day," Turel setting away his drink away for a cob pipe, sparked his flint and drew a head of smoke from the pipe then casting it into the breeze, spitting the excess tobacco from his lips.
"How does your crew is all that really matter's captain." Jesha leaned to the beam and cupped her ale staring intently at its contents.
"I don't follow ye priest, an wary if'n I can't"
Jesha smiled and elaborated "The state of your crew is directly related to the state of my station captain. If they were in poor health or poor moral, you might question your officer as to the lack of favorable temperament or ill condition of your sailors," looking back to the captain and then to the crew moving about the ship, Jesha bolstered a smile to her patron.
"They're a merry lot, capable and hard working. So I'm obliged to state the lady is well, so long as she grants such favor"
Turel nodded, though he seemed in thought as to the true nature of her words. It was just these sorts of conversations that kept him from talking to his surgeon for prolonged periods. They were straining on ones patience and gave merit to superstitions of having a women on board a ship, no matter her worth as a sailor.
"I was suggesting the state of our lady, not yours. How goes Jesha of firehollow is my question. Tymora I imagine, is all in all, self-sufficient"
Jesha nodded, though apparently still dancing around the notion of her well-being.
"The lady is just fine captain. Perhaps though," she paused with a coy expression, prompting the captain to grant her the courtesy.
"Out with it girl"
Jesha straitened in her stance as she spoke "Perhaps I might inquire upon you, if you've made it clear to your crew as to the dangers we might face in this run for Raven's Bluff..."
Nearby sailors gave a straying eye to the pair as they spoke, making Turel very aware he remained on the quarter deck and thus, his words carried with them a direct line to moral.
"My crew knows well the conditions they signed on with. If ye express something else I ain't aware of, speak it, an enlighten us of our future pearls"
Jesha faced Turel then, the two nearly square though Turel stood only slightly higher in his tricorne hat and heeled boots.
"There are the conditions of our enemies, as numerous as they may be," She began "I must attest to spending most of my supplies in our last engagement and would be at odds if I did not think to prepare again for such competition at sea"
Turel took up his grog then and leaned comfortably in his own skin.
"If by condition you suggest an encounter, my ship carries no ill will by any man or maritime law, we need venture only the idea that these are dangerous waters and as well to do sailors we bare such burdens to need a strong defense if we are to make berth in a tidy manner. However if the lady suggests we stand at odds with another sort, the ilk of pirates I garner, then it is most likely such transgressions are only in the parting of yourself lady Jesha, and the conscription of ye former patrons upon ye grace, which they no doubt seek still." Letting his eyes wander over Jesha's figure, the captain indicated more than just 'favor of a deity' in his supposing.
Jesha stood away then, her temper rousing and her voice audible over the singing.
"My grace? That 'grace' good captain has saved your life and many others. Let us not commit to ignorance on the part of 'your' former crews actions inflicting such need to flee my temple. Were not for that it would," Jesha meant to continue, but the silence around her slowly brought her to a piercing halt, as the entire crew watched the pair converse while attempting to keep to their chores, though unable to pretend as though they weren't listening. Suddenly Jesha found herself in a very familiar position, as an officer arguing in full view of the crew to her captain who, before her very eyes, had already cut down both of his former first mates for such similar actions.
Turel himself was pleasantly smiling as she slowed in her argument, and bid Adrin who was sweeping across the deck with powder loads in hand.
"Adrin, I think perhaps Lady Jesha could use another drink..." The boy looked cross for a moment at the call, as though he had little to do already on such a demanding morning. Though quick to the captains orders however, he moved to set the powder bags away and fetch that drink but Jesha knew the slight for what it was. The week had been long on the cleric, and she had lost several men under her knife, failed attempts to stem the blood flow this band of pirates seemed to attract like moths to a flame. She realized then, the grog may have indeed gone to her head and gave her own recourse to the captain.
"Belay that young master. I believe perhaps, I have aged the day," looking back to Turel, she kindly bowed "Captain, forgive my imposing. The death of your men still way on me is all. A few hours rest and I should regain my composure."
Turel simply nodded a yes, being that she was of little use to him outside of her god given powers of healing. "If there should be such fates upon the sea my lady, surely I will need you well rested for the task."
At her leave, Jesha left the top deck for her cabin, locking her door as she entered. She thought for just a moment, then turned and placed a warding upon the door, just in case.
Above her, she could hear the calls of Turel as he swept back into motion, likely pressing the thoughts of her speech away from crews minds and back to the tasks at hand.
"Up on the mainmast, sully that top sail, mind ye timing boys. The Raven keeps a low bow, an'nay an oarsmen who keels on the day'll see his cost from your coffers!"
In full flight, both the Gull and the Raven made admirable time. Though offhandedly they begged under the guide of novice sailors, the ships bolstered more veterans than not and any misguided line was refashioned with curse-biased retorts. The two Brigs made a strong heading, their passage across the breath of the Moonsea would not be gentle on the crew. These were ships made for coastal waters, favored among cove hunting pirates and fishermen. Though sea worthy, they took to the waves in long falls and deep turns. The weather held on while the clouds neared the horizon. But no man aboard could tell the difference from rain or sea spray, nor could they escape the prolonged drenching they suffered at the hands of Captain Turel's demand for more sail, more speed. It was only in the twilight hours that the order to coast came across deck. On board the Raven, one might have even caught ear of a resounding sigh of relief from oarsmen, who bent wood and sea for nearly nine hours attempting to keep up with the faster Black Gull. As the two ships found calmer waters, the night sky opened her breast to their decks and a command to douse lanterns was made, as the October moon gave more than enough light to sail by.
Sometime in the early morning hours, Turel left his cabin to find the helm strangely unoccupied. Tasting the first rounds of a weed roll, he looked across the deck where his eyes found Hudson, relaxing on a bed of rope and netting. The wheel was locked in place with a short sword pressed between her hand-holds and the deck. Concern overtook the captain, but was quickly disarmed as he checked his compass and heading, reconciling that they remained on course and in no immediate danger. Strangely, there seemed an ominous light about the deck, as though the moon swayed with the winds. Looking skyward, Turel was surprised to see three soft lights, no bigger than a lantern but all the brighter. They moved with slow pace from boom to boom, giving those sailors along the gallants just enough light to see to the rigging. One soon whispered out "Aye, sure she is. A lot fer the braces lads, steady now". It occurred to Turel then, Mr. Hudson was in fact, not asleep. The low glow of his pipe proved as such, and as Turel approached his first mate he came into view of the bards index finger moving as though he were a conductor, slowly directing the lights above.
Moving from the aft, Turel was stopped by Al-y whose elven eyes glowed in the dim light. The half-elf was relaxed against the beam and set away the spyglass with a nod to the captains approach.
"Aye Captain, all is well"
Turel handed away his roll to which Al-y took with a smile and handed off the glass. "We're caught in a current, Hudson says it should pull us south bound through the night for deeper waters. Good enough time to set the morning sail before winds pick up again. Straight an true she'll be by dawn sir"
"Very good Master Wolf. Though I trust Mr. Hudson to find his cabin before then. We be need'n him rested for the day"
"Aye sir, says he's not had such a calm wind in a month though, an would hate to sleep it away. But I'll be keeping him to his quarters once the crew tidy's her up. The Raven too is keeping strong pace, the oarsmen even set themselves to rest while the pace holds."
From the portside, a spout could be heard breaking the waters surface and suddenly the dark waters of the Moonsea were made alive as a pod of dolphins swept up from the depths charging schools of herring to calamity. Turel and Al-y both were taken with surprise at such a change in water color. Green luminous swells drew lines in the sea, defensive reactions from the sea brine giving every darting fish and chasing dolphin their own glow. From the top sail, the men remarked in kind, 'greener than the belly achers asleep in-deck' said one, another bolstering the first 'Aye, dolt'n about the deck like lady's they were, arms an legs a'swayn like a lass tied up in knots they were" They shared a laugh, but Turel all the wiser to their comments knew there was always truth among such belittling comments. It was a fact, both the Raven and the Black Gull could not sail at the speeds they had known in the many months prior. Thoughts then of the attack with the 'Nothing' and Turel's former first mate Krissoc swam in his mind and brought a sense of distaste and aggravation to the Captains face. A look then, that Al-y recognized for what it was.
"Spoken with entitled youth, forgetting they too once slipped at the mast, falling over themselves to duck and hide from that same stare you stare with now, captain..."
Looking to the elf, Turel recognized the wisdom in his words and took the roll as it was handed back, letting the cool buzz smother his concerns.
"It remains in my caring however Mr. Wolf."
"How so?"
Turel took another long draw, handing back the roll. "Was I a wiser man, I'd of recognized the folly in my choice of First mates. Instead I thought to trust that my sword arm, having bettered Krissoc once, would keep'em loyal...I was wrong, and that choice for fear over loyalty cost me fine sailors, gold, an the trust of my officers, and the life of a friend who if it not by his hand, I'd be rott'n at the bottom of the sea. For surely Eldric was a finer swordsman fore John shoved a knife in his back. An on that matter, so was Krissoc"
"Was," Al-y corrected. "I was at the same fight sir, and I did not see you folly in your pace to keep up with the brute, though perhaps your feet did not find their place in such a manner as you had wished."
Turel shook his head at the thought. It was clear to every man that day that in no shape or form did the Captain of the Black Gull perform with grace or aptness of sword against his wild eyed first mate. Al-y, though not subject to lie, knew better than to cost Turel even more concern for his losses. Turel knew well that three times he found himself on the deck, and three times it was by simple luck that he escaped the fall of the orc's goring axe.
"In truth, had the idiot taken that last throw, he not I, would be your captain Mr. Wolf"
The half-elf finished the roll and set the roach into the sea where it vanished with a light hiss. Chewing on the smoke with but a grin, the ships carpenter could do no more than shrug at the thought.
"Perhaps, though I and the crew know it's all the better that you remain Captain. Suspect he was of sea madness, not to mention he nay left his snuff box alone. I myself watched that orc mothered skull rat go nearly two days without rest, food and all the rum he could contain. Surprised I was he didn't die under his own infliction's...No, that is no captain of mine I think."
For a moment Al-y's words swayed from the captain's purse. But soon the two found themselves high and unable to ware any true worries about them. Turel smiled then, losing his thoughts on the matter.
"Have you the cloak I set to your room Mr. Wolf?"
"Aye Captain, thank you"
Then with a pat on the shoulder, Turel turned from the deck and entered his cabin once more. Shutting the door, he stood in trance at the surrounding room. Beneath his feet lay a tiger skin, the cost of which he could not guess. Along the far wall, the leathery skin of what he could only describe as a small dragon. Though it bared no wings and only a set of razor sharp claws that decorated the wall as well. To it's left a finely made scimitar, flecked in gold. Beside that, a brilliant painting, the women there-in holding a smoking pot surrounded by a great storm with lighting flashing in the distance. Along the tables swayed candle light, casting a glistening color across the three chests of gold still sitting open while he wasted the morning hours counting and recording the ships plunder. Across the great bed in the cabin lay half a dozen silver fox furs and an aquamarine silk sash that hung across the head of the quilt. Moving to his desk, velvet bags filled with yellow diamonds and citrines, a kings ransom in the least, lay scattered across maps of the Moonsea, slung against captains logs taken from the strong boxes of two other ships now resting at the bottom of the ocean. From his armoire bulging with fine garments of silks and cotton, to his personal coffers numbering in thousands of piece of gold, there was something to be had in spreading the entirety of ones wealth before his eyes. For when in doubt...
"Relish in your rewards"
Shadows moved along the wooden floor, cutting in and out of the light beyond the open door. His mother's voice shuttered, weakly begging for something but he could not understand her words, only that there was a seething voice behind it, stealing her courage. A long hand stretching out from another's shadow, its finger loosely visible beyond the vale of a robe. The stranger hissed as he spoke barely above a whisper, yet his words carried a presence of fear that stole the warmth from the fire. Though his hand stayed it's touch and fell away as her shadow lowered, begging the figure to hold his anger, praying she be spared whatever devilry he sought to place upon her soul.
"He will remain with you, and you will never speak of me" the figure whispered again, and behind her weeping, she nodded yes, yes, yes. The sound of coins bouncing against the dinner table, one after the other, spilling out onto the floor, bent her over at the waist as her spindly arms dragged them to her chest. Soon, the light from the door vanished and only the dark figure stood within.
"Have ye named him?" she asked, the figure blocking out all light that remained as he approached the crib. "Turel," the figure answered. The name echoed across the vastness of the dream, growing louder as shadow grew larger, "Turel...Turel...TUREL!"
"Captain Turel!" Hudson's voice broke through the darkness, pressing the captain to stand from his desk and his dream, while gold coins remained stuck to his forehead and cheeks from his nights disturbing rest.
"You're needed on deck captain!"
Within moments Turel slammed through the cabin doors, pulling his sword belt and rapier to his waist and tying it in a loop at the front. His head swiveled about the ship in the afternoon sun, his eyes barely making out the horizon in the bright light. At the helm stood Hudson who pointed skyward directing the captain's attention there, as well, all the men were staring blankly to the clouds. Looking up, Turel could hardly make out the speck of black in the sky while his eyes adjusted. But quickly his mind began to piece together what he was seeing.
High in the clouds, its wings flapping in long draws, coasting through the cool October air was a bat winged serpent baring four legs that it kept tucked to its side. It's head and long neck hung down from its body scouring the open water in long turns from left to right. The wings which only seemed to beat in momentary efforts to regain speed, pulled and swayed independently as though the beast were clawing its way across the winds. The captain, having little words to spare the men such wild fantasies, made the call as best he could.
"Archers, to the deck ya pickeroons! As if ye never seen a damned dragon! Full top sail! Gunners to position! Master Adrin I trust powders be ready and dry flints in every lock?". Drawing his spyglass, Captain Turel regarded the boy mid-deck who's eyes were stolen to the sky, his left hand trembling as he seemed to miss the orders in wide eyed amazement.
"Adrin!" Turel screamed, bringing the boy back from his fear.
"Aye!, yes cap'n! Every gun!"
"Good, then gather ye grit boy and get to the gun ladder!" With fire in his step Adrin was below the stairs to the lower deck. "It be a dragon, a real dragon!" the boy's high pitched yell carried through the ship as the sound of cannon doors pushing open and blocks moaning with every yank of the lines brought the nine light guns aboard the Black Gull to their positions. On the top deck the men fell from their ropes as the beast dropped its wings and dived for the ocean. It pulled up quickly just before splashing down, skimming the waters and changing course trailing its claws across the waves with unbridled precision. Along both the Gull and the Raven men lined the beam readying bow and arrow. Hadren's command aboard the Raven could be heard calling for men on the ballista while both ships dropped sail and banked for the weather gauge. The Raven came about leaning at an angle from the Gull to give range for their gunners while Turel made it to the bow. The two captains had little time to digest either's immediate plan of action, save the understanding that, as men of fortune, they had little to gain in combative action with a dragon. "Full wind Mr. Hudson!" came the call to the helm, but the Gull's sailing master was already in the throws of motion to set as much distance from the creature as favorable winds would allow.
As though something from the ships signaled the beast, it suddenly changed it's heading and turned on a pivot, beating its wings in a direct path for the Gull. Gliding into a draft, bones along its ribs spread from its side with webbing stretching out from his shoulders and the creature took altitude in a sudden burst of speed, its breast center mast of the Gull and fast approaching. It roared again, terrifying the crew who frantically worked, begging every ounce of sail from the Brig that she could muster.
"Ready on the guns Master Dynen!" the command from the bow relayed through the decks.
"Two points and rising!"
"Two points!" bellowed the gunners from bellow, raising the cannons to the horizon and higher as they tried to keep up with the aerial dance.
"She's out of our range captain!" came the call from below deck, but if Turel heard it he seemed to neither care for the complaint or note it.
"Fire on the portside!" roared Turel.
"Fire to port!" came the relay.
"Fire!" was screamed from the gun deck.
In succession the guns rang out, ka-boom! ka-boom! ka-boom! ka-boom! ka-boom! and the air about the ship was suddenly thick with smoke and the smell of sulfur.
"Come about, hard to port!"
At the helm, Hudson kicked his boot to the wheel, stopping it in mid spin and reached nearly to his shoe laces, grabbing hold and pulling with all his weight forcing the rudder against seven knots. The Gull shuddered under the strain and the waning moan of the masts twisted behind the sail. Men on the deck slid from ropes and lines, falling to their places to trim the sheets and change course. Below deck, Adrin's place on the starboard side of the gun deck was suddenly filled with men as they raced past him to set their aims, while Adrin nearly crushed beneath the mass of sailors, barely slipped past them to the empty cannons sliding to his knees along the first gun at the aft to begin preparing another shot load while the ship moved to set in line on the starboard side.
Below deck on the living quarter, the sounds of cannon fire drove away Jesha's dreams as well and in a few moments she was topside, her hair suddenly caught in the wind as the sounds and calls of men around her barraged her senses and filled her eyes and nose with smoke and sea spray.
"Is it another ship?" she demanded from one of the riggers.
"Nay ma'lady, be a dragon sure as the sun rises!"
Jesha furrowed her brow as her hand instinctively went to her flail.
"A what?!"
The cleric was suddenly shoulder rushed as Turel slid down the banister of the stairs to the deck, spinning her on her heels without pause or concern for the blow. Managing to keep her legs about her, she found herself crazily in pursuit of the captain as he crossed the deck and climbed to the helm where Hudson was still spinning the wheel. But her eyes and attention were suddenly stolen from her as the sound of a great roar at her right disembarked any skepticism to the sailors word. The dragon beat its wings ferociously, coming to a hover in mid-air. It called out again, it's eyes locked on the ships as cannon balls fell just short of it's position. With yet another bellow, the creature turned it's head to the sky, brought it's wings to its side and slipped over on itself in a direct dive for the ocean. In seconds, it hit the water and was gone from all sight.
For a moment, calm settled on the deck, save for the fast pace of Turel who only glanced to the dragon's dive while moving to the wheel, which Hudson gave up immediately. Tossing his spyglass through the air, Al-y who stood at Hudson's side caught the expensive instrument with a sure hand and set it away in his belt.
"Orders sir?" said Hudson between heavy breaths, his hands nearly bloody from his grip on the holds while his adrenaline rushed to his head and back down his spine in waves of fear and respective excitement.
Turel, his eyes fixed upon the starboard side as he continued her turn for another broadside, gave out his line of commands in automatic succession.
"Lights ready on the beam Mr. Hudson. Archer's, steady your aim, grapeshot at the ready!"
"She's in the water captain!" Glemdrick was already leaning over the side along the quarter deck, his silver trident in hand hoping to catch sight of the beast through the depths.
The Gull finally made her full turn bringing it's starboard guns to the west. Through the port holes the men below watched the Raven some three hundred yards out pass by their light of sight, concerning many of them as to the next command from above.
"We'ta fire on our own ship master Dynen?" Berrick's voice from the bow of the gun deck was surely not the only one to be concerned with their opposing position.
"The captain knows what he's doin ya swab" growled the man at Berrick's back. Looking over his shoulder, the grizzled sailor looked upon the former slave with complete furry at possibly questioning Turel's command. The grace to disarm the men was not lost on the sailor as Dynen popped his grog and took a full swig of his rum before laughing out. "There be over ten thousand silver aboard the Raven, ye think Captain Turel would risk lose'n a single coin to the likes of the sea bitch!"
As one the entire gun crew bellowed "Hell no!" and set to their braces.
At the starboard side, Hudson was pushing past men and bows, finding a suitable place at the middle of the deck.
"Room, I need room!" pressing the men apart, he opened his arms wide along his sides, then brought them to his chest where he reached to his belt pouch pulling a hand full of black powder and a squirming glow worm that twisted and fought to leap from his fingers. Putting the ingredients into his palm, the bard whispered an incantation, suddenly drawing looks of both fear, horror and disgust from the barbarian men of the hill tribes that had recently joined the boarding crew.
"Watch it lads, be a witch he is!"
Hudson could not be pressed to acknowledge them, and as he finished his spell and loosed the components over board, the black powder burst into a small light, consuming the glow worm causing the light to grow in size and shape. From the center light formed two more lights on either side until there were three of equal size floating effortlessly along the ships beam.
"Spread'em out Mr. Hudson"
"Yes Captain," With his hands as conduits, Hudson set the lights in equal measurements across the side of the ship and set them just above the water, then looked back to the captain as if to say 'now what?'.
"Now what Captain?" voiced Al-y who like Turel, could not take his eyes off the water.
"Come along ye stupid beastie..." Turel growled his threat under his breath, expecting the dragon to burst from the starboard side at any moment. But it was from the port that the water suddenly turned into chaos as the nearly eighteen foot serpent, burst from the water's surface sending ocean water onto the deck. In a mighty roar, it's wings slammed into the sails and rigging sending waves of terror through the deck hands.
"Mormeck!" Turel screamed.
"Aye!" came Hudson's reply, sending the lights from the starboard side to the creature's face, swirling around it's head in chaotic spins. Though unable to injure the beast, the sudden lights spinning, flashing and driving into the dragon's eyes was enough to force it's head to snap around and then release the sails, floating off the ship in two great flaps of it's wings. The creature snapped out and bit at the lights, sending it's claws forward attempting to catch and crush the orbs. In a slash of it's tail, rigging lines across the port side snapped and broke and a massive tear in the course sail swung the ship side to side from the sheer weight and force of the blow.
"All hands down!" came Turel's next command, to which the sailors took too immediately. With their attention on the dragon however, no one save the gunners watched the Raven close her distance to the Black Gull. And none but those men watched as two shorts from the scorpion ballista's fired across the deck of the Gull, the wind in their passing blowing several hats from the heads of men already on their bellies.
As the ballista bolts cut their swath through the air, the dragon only barely escaped one, while the other drove it's steel tip deep into the heart of the beast pressing it back from the Gull and forcing it to drop a dozen feet, fighting to stay air born. The dragon sent blood across the deck of the Gull, crying out in guttural pain as it pressed itself farther away, beating it's wings in relentless assault to set distance between itself and the two ships.
From a kneel, Turel yelled down to the lower decks "Portside!" but the gunners could only scramble to get to their cannons and try to raise her sights among the sway of the ship's sail and the gale force winds of the dragon's beating wings.
Centering it's balance, water rolled off the beast's scales and beneath the bask of light from Hudson's spell, it's body shined in vibrant greens and blacks. The water line below the ship pressed away from the hold beneath each stretch of wings and if a man among the deck had any sense in him, he would have cast his place aboard the Gull away for better odds with the sharks below.
All across the deck, men ran for cover as the dragon pulled it's head back, baring it's massive chest and gaping maw, forcing the worst fears to swell in the hearts of any who knew the myths and tales of agony brought about by such spell of pain, as a dragon barred it's horrible breath upon them.
It was in the moment as Turel watched the deck of his ship pass him in myriad blurs that he realized he was running for the ship's side. At first, the thought of jumping over board screamed through his mind, but it could not settle in his heart and visions of the dark figure from his dreams stole his cowardance and drove him on, filling his soul with rage and anger. He could not see the death before him, swaying in the afternoon sun, ready to destroy all that he had worked for. All that stood before him was the cloaked man, the terrible pains he had caused the child in that crib, and the fear he brought with his passing in the night. Reaching out a hand as his foot took to the starboard beam, Turel took hold of a wild line and kicked himself from the deck, swinging out with rapier in hand screaming at the beast with venom on his lips
"No!"
Suddenly, the sky and all around him burst into flame and flashes of light stole his sight from him and deafened the world to his ears. Bursts of sparks and shooting arcs of fire cut across his vision and as he swung through the air, the monster that would have taken his life and consumed him body and soul, fell away from the blanket of explosions that succumbed both it and Turel in waves of blistering lights, and then, total darkness.
"Captain, captain, captain,"
From oblivion, Turel awoke staring into the eyes of Hudson, surrounded by Al-y, Gremdrick and a crowd of other crewman. His eyes managed to cut the shadow and his body ached from top to bottom. But as he found consciousness, his crew pulled him to sit upright as the world came back into focus and all around men with smiles and blackened faces began to grab one another around the shoulders in joy.
"Aye, he lives the crazy bastard!"
"What have ye in ye head cap'n? Flying off the edge o'the world with not but rapier an salt about ye, huh! Make'n us look bad ye did, wild an crazed as ye were!"
"Aye! An lucky! To the depths for shit an bones if'n not fer Tymora's bless'n!"
"Call on! Cap'n Turel sent the devil's chill down that o'beastie's spine he did!"
"Aye, but were the lady who sent'em with a swath about it, set'n the air on fire as she did! I swear I'll never hear the same!"
"...wait" Turel raised his hand, finding his feet with the aid of the crew as he pulled himself to stand straight. "The dragon?"
"Gone cap'n! Scared off it was!" the men all roused one another, cheering and yelling as conquering heroes, though most knew they were lucky to be alive.
"Twer the lady Jesha. Set herself to the deck an made praise to Tymora she did!"
"Aye cap'n! The air burst with fire and smoke, an the lanterns about the air came alive with furry as though the bitch queen herself beset the deck with lighting bolts from the heavens!"
Looking across the men, among them and taking many pats to the shoulder and thanks for their lives was Jesha, who though winded, seemed to take the praise with simple humility.
"Aye, an not forgotten the Raven boys! Sett'n them scorpions across our decks like wives in a sew'n circle!"
"Aye! To the Raven!" called a man from the back, "To captain Hadren!" came another.
"Captain Hadren!" called out the deck in cheers.
With the many yells and chants, Turel grabbed at his head, realizing the massive blow he must have taken and pulling his hand back to reveal blood still flowing from his brow.
"Lady Jesha you say..." Turel's eyes seemed to part the crowd then, bringing the cleric into full view.
"Was but a simple prayer Captain Turel, a few flashes of light and insults on a persons hearing. Honestly, I considered if it would drive the beast away at all, but trusted in Tymora to prepare myself and the crew for whatever ends."
Nodding as he began to understand what exactly took place in the moments as he left the deck an took to the air, Turel reached to his belt line looking for his sword, but could find nothing but sheath and leather.
"Aye, cap'n, ye blade"
Al-y moved up from behind, turning the rapier over in his hand and pulling the red sash around it's guard free of the pommel. Handing it to Turel, he set back and motioned to the tip of the sword with eager eyes.
"Looks to be dragons blood on that blade Captain, and I might suggest I've the eyes to make such a claim"
Every man present then, let their sights draw upon the rapier in Turel's hand, and all took a gasp as the captain raised the weapon before him, watching the ichor like blood course down her edge in long thick lines of black and green shades.
"The Captain cut the beast?" questioned a gunner who dared to lean over Jesha's shoulder, his eyes wide and his cloths far dirtier than any man who was among the smoke and explosions on deck.
"Aye," called men among the crew, before, with a smile from ear to ear, cut in Hudson.
"Aye, gut'em he did! And sent that bilge rat back to the depths!"
"Aye!" bellowed the men, hooting in wild rants "Cap'n Turel, the dragon slayer! Three cheers for the brave Cap'n! Hip, hip ha-ray! Hip, hip ha-ray! hip, hip!,"
"Belay that!" called out Turel, silencing the men.
"Captain?" they shrunk in concern.
Turel looked about the crowd, then to Jesha who smugly grinned, crossing her arms at her chest with a smile that barred any honest judgment in word.
Turel looked again to the blade, then the men at hand.
"Nay a rapier be sending any creature of that sort away with but a scratch to it's hide. It was Tymora and her servant that drove off the beast, ye all know it to be true."
"Aye," came Al-y from behind, pressing past Hudson and eyeing the priest with esteemed respect. "But ye did cut a line into it's hide captain, and that's something I be telling me grand kids for all me days to come."
"And ye grand kids, grand kids,"
"And ye grand kids, grand kids, grand kids ye knife eared bastard!"
The crew fell into uncontrollable laughter, and all about the deck men cussed and hazed the long lived half-elf who could only nod in reply to the lazy compliments on part of the crewmen.
"Aye, and your grand kids as well Henri, that is if you can find a lass to part her legs for such a cursed limb you bare"
"Har!" was Henri's call back, and the crew fell about themselves in wild insults and utter content for the evening call of the wind, and the untethered joy for another day alive at sea. |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 23 Feb 2014 08:58:09 |
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Cbad285
Learned Scribe
160 Posts |
Posted - 26 Feb 2014 : 04:40:47
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Bound For the Past - Tales from the Sea of Fallen Stars
Midwinter D.R. 1403
Captain Ravenshire and the White Raven sail east after convincing their patron Captain Turel Pearlmade of the Black Gull of his plan to find a cache of his families heirlooms in his grandmothers maiden town. Intending to smuggle them out and meet Turel in the pirate isles, as a down payment, Hadrin leaves Turel with the only family heirloom he is carrying, a cloak pin made of silver set with ten small rubies in a circular pattern. Captain Turel finds himself and the crew of the Black Gull eight miles off the northern coast of Dragon Isle just after midwinter D.R. 1403 during nightfall.
The large fortified Keep that sits atop a hill on the northern end of the island is its main feature. Two Large Pyres burn at either end of its battlements. The Islands north end is patrolled by four cutters, modified versions of coasters, armed with star fire cannons. The sky is clear and the stars are out in full force. The half moons, like reflections of one another sit nestled in the sky to the south east. The deck is silent as the men await anxiously for Turel to finish his assesment of the situation . Glamdrick, one foot up on the rail, stands to the Captain's left looking on at the fortified behemoth that breaches the darkness, his armor is offset by the sheen of his silver weapons. To Turel's right stands Hudson, quietly ascertaining the number of men on the ships.
Hushed voices from the crew crawl across the wind "There's to many of em, There's too much light to approach". A quick glare from Glamdrick silences the chatter.
"We could Slip in unseen" Ally says. "Right past there sentries."
"That would never work" Jesha speaks up from behind. "The battlements have catapults that cover the northern and eastern ends of the island and everyone is in the grand Corsair's pocket, any outsiders will bring attention".
Hudson's gaze had turned towards the sky.
"What are you looking at Mr. Mormeck?" Adrins voice was curious. Hudson paused squinting against the darkness."I saw a rather large shadow cross the pyre light". As all of the Black Gulls attention turned towards the sky, the shadow passed again, this time it was much more defined.
Glamdrick gasped "Dragon", his words hit home as a silent shadow slipped unnoticed back into the sky, disappearing into the glint of starshine amidst the darkness...
Captain Turel turned to Glemdrick and patting his shoulder with a reassuring smile then turns to speak not only to his officers, but the visable crew as well. "This be the true heart of the pirate isles. This is where we make our fortune lads." Leaning back on the ships edge, Turel spits into the sea and pulls a pouch of toxic chew with a delightful hallucinogenic high. "I anticipate Mr. Hudson'll find a proper berthing point where'n we can set camp. I'm enticed to return to th' former but nay a trek seems less reasonable an more cautious than my tastes permit. I'll be sitt'n in council and decide on an island, free for call and press any vagrants from shore that we encounter. Remember gents, these be dangerous waters, and we be the most dangerous of sorts it offers." with a wild grin, Turel rolls his fingers across the black handles of his pistols, baiting a muster of laughter from the crew which is quickly silenced by Glemdrick's command for silence while in enemy waters.
"Mr. Hudson, take ye time, but find our current and meet me in my cabin. Lets find a place we can call home, for now" leaving the deck, Turel finds himself at his table, maps and gold spread out before him. This place he voiced to himself 'This is where we will make our fathers envy us"
As the night rolls on, Turel sits in debat with his officers, Jesha, Glemdrick, Hudson and even young master Adrin is privy to the meeting. The boy who continues to find himself in the deepest of permitted conversations seems a sponge, soaking up every decision with a smile.
"Again I say Hudson, I've no qualm for cutt'n path in merryment through pirate weeds, but I've have no wish to replace sea worthy men without cause. Find me an island, free of claim and we will venture to see as to what it offers."
Shaking his head, Hudson leans into the table as if getting closer to the captain will make his words better understood. "Turel, it is not my wish to spill any blood without gains being two fold, but asking to fetch a place for port without removing those already claiming it is asking me to find the invisble. These islands are only noted because others lay claim. We might sail for weeks and never find a sizable island with enough protection to worthy berthing. I say to you what you ask requires an act of war, or luck"
"That we have in abundance," Piped Jesha, who had thus far remained silent.
"I offer this solution my captain, give me...1000 gold, and a fine diamond of equal worth. With this and a complete night of prayer to my goddess, I will find you your heading and reveal to you the island you seek."
Glemdrick huffed in doubt "Another wish to your goddess. With every prayer you make, my men are pressed to their gills in blood. Do we not recall the little dragons who so fed on the corpses of this crew"
"Tymora remembers them, and we need not speak of the dead further than a blessing on their souls Master Glemdrick" Jesha held steady a powerful glare daring the large man to speak ill of Tymora. Such a thing even Turel would not allow, knowing well the blessings the lady of coin has bestowed upon the Black Gull.
"Make your prayer, lady Jesha. But by the rise of tomorrows moon I expect an answer, but most of all, I expect a heading..."
"Aye Captain"
" As to the matter of the Islands pet?" the young boy Adrin spoke softy as he poured more of the confidence inducing elixir Krakens Blood into Hudson's glass.
"It is not of our concern at this present moment" Hudson said matter of factly, "We need only take it as a lesson that a pirates life is one of veracity".
As the officers finished their drinks in quiet reverie of the Captain's words, Hudson and Ally poured over the known maps and star charts. Soon the other officers and the Captain had dispersed. Glamdrick to the Deck to see to the crew and the ships duties, Jesha, with precious stones straight from the Captains treasury, to the ships shrine to begin her Augury. Adrin hurried in the Captain's shadow to serve his dinner. Leaving the Mr. MorMeck and Mr. Wolf in study of the Known Isles. The two made quite a pair with more than fifty years of sea worthy experience they felt they did not need to await Jesha's sorcery to find their way to fortune. No, What they needed was good old fashion maritime due diligence.
"It's not good having that women bouncing around the decks n her fancy tymorian get up" the old half breed spoke without his eyes leaving the map he was leafing over.
"Hold your tongue Mr. Wolf, I don't think the Captain would take kindly with two of his men giving offence to his patron deity in one evening". Even as he spoke the words, a grin found Hudson's face. "By Tymora's luck!". It was right there the whole time, nestled in between two great rock formations south of Crastor's Bay. It was called Sapphire Island for the cold blue water that surrounded it. Rumors of it being home to a cutthroat band of ship wrecked barbarians have kept others at bay but it was defensible and most important of all, secluded."Ally, look here, this place is worth the fight, here is where we could make our berthing". Ally he grinned "Yes Sir, it is indeed worth the fight". Still they would wait and see what the priestess came up with. After all it was the Captains order.
Her quarters were simple save the large wall scrolls that hung over her desk. Her bed had a fine blue silk hanging canopy that draped between the four carved posts. They depicted silver-eyed griffons holding the silk canopy within their regal beaks. The pillows were as soft as rabbit fur and her blankets consisted of airy light blue linens with a deep black velvet heavy blanket. Against the wall underneath the port hole was a silver bowl with the symbol of Tymora in the bottom of it filled with a warm blue liquid that left the lingering scent of Lilac and honey cordial in the air.
It was there she kneeled. Her Light red hair had grown in length over the last year, it fell past her shoulders now as she smiled at her reflection in the blue water. Her skin was more weathered and her crows feet seemed deeper but Jesha had found a perfect harmony in her service to Tymora here on this vessel. The Pirate Priestess of The Black Gull knelt down in her white leather breeches and blue sleeveless v-cut robe, she removed the fine light mace from her side and placed a platinum coin into the silver bowl as she closed her eyes and held her hand out."My Smiling Matron, Goddess of Adventure, and luck. I call out to you with this offering". Her voice was soft as Jesha spoke the words.
Wind rushed through the port hole just above her, blowing her hair back from her face. Opening her eyes a light emanated from the bowl. It pulsated with a deep blue. Slowly the entire room hummed with energy as Jesha felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She stood up quickly looking into the bowl. An island with white sand and lush green foliage was pictured within. On the islands eastern end stood ruins of stone. As Jesha peered deeper into the pulsating light, she gave her Augury.
"Will this island bring us fortune?" Her question brought about an echoing hushed giggle from behind her. As Jesha spun around looking at the door the light dimmed behind her and faded. Jesha turned back to the bowl and smiled. The coin was gone.
"The Captain will be pleased, Praise be Lady Luck.".
As she moved towards the door, fastening her mace to her side and grabbing her white tri-corn hat, she saw Neptune take to the night air.
As Turel released Neptune bound for the Dread Pirate's isle, from beyond his cabin door young Adrins voice came with good news.
"Lady Jesha has returned from prayer Captain."
Inside, Turel took a fist full of coins and approached the window, looking down into the murky depths below, he let slide the gold into the sea, as well as turning the incents out across the waves. "If but coin I spare, a little less of the she bitch fills this place, a little more of my lady glitters in the dark..." with his own prayer to Tymora, Turel left the cabin and committed himself to the call to deck, and beyond, the Black gulls new port-o-call.
The bird made it's way towards the fortified keep. It flew past the cutters patrolling, past the outer gates of the keep and its armed crossbow men, past the laughter and ruckus of the main hall and finally landing in the window of the keeps upper eastern wing room. The black seagull stared over the rooms finery, it seemed some sort of office with a fine black stained oaken desk and matching chair with a high back. It was then that the bird's instinct kicked in but it was to late, the silent predator sprung onto the window catching the gull in it's paw and pinning it to the sill. It was a Large grey tammy cat with a long tail. Looking down at Neptune with it's black eyes the cat slowly sucombed to a tuft of grey thick smoke that began to surround it. Moments later a cloaked figure rose in place of the cat with Neptune grasped in his left hand.
"Ello, birdie, no one escapes Scratch! Whats this a little message?". The creature resembled a half cat, half human man and stood roughly five and half feet tall. He let the bird go and quickly ran out of the room screaming, "Master the birdie brought you a message!".
'To The Corsier, I write to you with assurance this letter will be disected. I speak not of when or where, only that it is night and neptune shall deliver with haste. I take residence now in the shoals, my hull to tend my concerns and crew to tend its safty. For which I express my intention to provoke a display of respect while in these waters. I commit to no man, only sea and goddess. For your lack of concern on the nature of one black gull, somewhere amongst the waves, I offer a dowry to be paid in the sum of one thousand pieces of gold. I ask for the moon corsier, unmolested by such lofty shadows. Return your reply with the bird. Once settled, I will speak more of my place o port.
wealth be with you,
Captain Turel Pearlmade'
With both locations laid out in front of him, Turel asks to be left to his thoughts, sending both Hudson and Jesha from his cabin. Over the course of the evening Turel lays out the course from their position to each island separately. Conditions concerned were distance and allotted food stores, but water more importantly, and rum stores for the days of travel. Being a man of fine tastes, the more stores saved means more days on land before having to replenish their wares. But the real decision as Turel studied his maps, came to him once he accepted a delicate truth. Should the choice be made for strategic position, or should the path of faith be taken? Both had their benefits and reclaiming a temple of Wuakeen made a sizable donation to the Lady of Luck. But as the night rolled on and the reminding rock of the ship told Turel that the Black Gull was still sitting idle in waters where pirates preyed on the weak and slow. There raised a question of, with such prayer given to Tymora, why ask further of him? For that was what he fished from his thoughts of Jesha's temple vision. What need did he have to cut through thickets and brave lost temples forgoing the security of his crew, and more importantly his gold, just to renounce whatever evils might have forced out the old priests? Perhaps such a place might prove a worth while port. But the simple asking without such a simple answer on his part disturbed his commitments as Captain. Were it a sailor who replied in such a way, Turel shook his head at the thought. No man among his crew would speak with such vagueness. "I asked for a favor, she presents me a task, wrapped in shadow..." nearing the bottom of the bottle, Turel finished dismantling and cleaning his pistols. Finally spinning both from the table and setting them into their holsters. Leaning back in his chair and surveying the chamber filled with the skins of beasts and enough treasure to last any reasonable man long into his latest years. The decision was simple then, and the affront that may be aroused from it provoked a whimsical grin from the pirate captain.
Back on deck, Turel handed Mr. Hudson the charted course and took himself to towards the aft deck with a tobacco pipe.
"Make ready the sails, stow the anchor and bring us about Mr. Hudson."
Removing the maps, Hudson smiled with a reply, "Aye Cap'n. The Sapphire isle it tis" As luck would have it, Turel passed Jesha who likewise had been waiting for the the captains reveal. The decision to ignore her augury and trust in the knowledge of the crew brought a low growl up from her belly, and her eyes slid in aggravation towards the captain, who only replied with a nod and a strong draw from his pipe.
Neptune returned then, finding his way to the Captains shoulder. As Turel set the bird along the ship's edge, smoke lingering amidst his brow, he saw the small scroll case tied to the sea gulls leg. As he untied it and took it into his hand the case suddenly grew to full size proportions. Inside was the reply Turel had been awaiting. It read in perfect calligraphy:
You have come a long way for this message. I do not seek ownership or fealty, these are not our words. Our word is freedom. The freedom to do whatever you wish. That being said, it is this freedom that makes us so fearsome. If you plan to make the pirate isles your port of sail, you will have to earn such freedoms and the sea is unforgiving. None the less, I accept your homage of gold, and dissent from my desire to meet the profitable Captain Turel Pearlmade and instead will send my newest envoy to make your aquintence on my behalf in the morning.
G. Corsair
Swann
"Hes very polite captain," young Adrin remarked as he slowly poured another glass of wine. Turel finished reading the letter for the second time after returning to his cabin and inviting Adrin to a session like many before it, attempting to educate the boy with his reading. Looking across the desk, Adrin knew well enough by now when the captain had a foul taste about him.
"You don't think he means what he says, do you?" Adrin took the letter as it was handed to him, intent on copying the letters. Turel smirked and gestured for the glass. "I think he means exactly what he says." waiting for the boy, Turel peaked his eyebrows over the rim of glass. "dissent..." the boy questioned. "But its not spelt wrong is it?"
Turel again nodded. "It means politically he should not wish too meet us. But does anyway. And we do not wish too meet him, but will anyway". The boy poured another glass of wine and turned his letter to the captain to better read it. Turel nodded with acceptance and set Adrin back to task.
"How does he know where we are?" the boy questioned again.
Turel wiggled his fingers in reply, drawing a scoff from his shipmate.
"Magic? Is that how his envoy will come?" Nodding, the captain took up his glass again but paused, as a thought tugged at his lips. "What do you think i should do?"
The question brought Adrin to a stand still. While Turel fully enjoyed the roal reversal. Even so far as to hand the glass of wine to the boy. Taking up the glass, Adrin stared for a moment into the rich cabernet, scrunching his brow as he thought long and hard on what to say next. Then at once it all spilled out. "We offered gold for him to leave us alone but didnt say when or where we would deliver it. So he has to know where we are because he followed Neptune. So if we dont want him to know our position, why send a message at all. Unless we did want him to know in which case sending Neptune is part of the plan. In which case the envoy is as well...then we are..." the boy could not be sure if his understanding betrayed him, or if he was running in circles. But Turel could see the dots begining to make sense in the boy's mind. Adrin closed his eyes then, and settled himself. "We are baiting the envoy out of his castle. To fight on our terms...the envoy is the lure to anger the swarm. We want him to chase us" Turel could not help but reach out then and ruffle the boys hair. "Now ye thinkin like a pirate son."
The cool morning air lazily drifted across the deck of the Black gull. The temperature was rising as midwinter was coming to an end yet it was not warm enough to remove the chill from the crews bones. The sun was just rising, giving Dragon Isle still lingering in the distance a sheen of amber and emerald coming off the water.
The cutters had stopped patrolling and now sat just off the isles shores.
"Should I stir the Captain, Mr. Mormeck?" Adrian found himself nervous for the first time in months. Staring out over the waters of Dragon Isle in the early hours of day light revealed the shadowed beast now visible in all it's terrifying glory perched on the tallest battlement of the Corsairs Keep. The Beasts winding body slithering around the keeps stone watching out over the water towards the Black Gull.
"No boy!" Hudson said firmly.
"But it's a Dragon, surely the Captain will want to...".
"That is not a Dragon men!" Hudson yelled out to the crew. The man from Algorand had grew up amidst great magic. He knew illusions when he saw them. Yet he was not sure how the illusion had lasted the entirety of the night and now acted freely here in the early hours."I will not have you men cowering over an Illusion!, you focus on those very real cutters, full of very real men with very real swords and fire breathing starfire cannons".
"Aye sir". The crew sounded off in unison.
Hudson had done his best to steel the crews nerves and focus them on the insurmountable odds that were now in pursuit of the ship.
Yet everything was quiet, almost peaceful. His left hand found the straps of the leather satchel hanging off of his belt and soon he had produced a small vial. It's contents were silver in hue and grainy. He gazed intently at the beast perched on the battlements and then to the twin cutters. Hudson closed his eyes and uncorked the vial. He spoke in the ancient tongue of men softly "Llna uel' tuothin nepra ost" and sprinkled a small amount of the liquid onto the starboard rail of the Black Gull while waving his free hand slowly over the rail. An irredescent blue light rose thinly from the railing into the air and violently shot out over the calm sea, past the cutters and into the battlements. Hudson's stretched outward, his left hand now pressed to the side of his head, focused, eyes closed, he began to shake as the beam of blue light reached the beasts perch."So...strong," he struggled to speak. The blue beam exploded into vibrant white crackling light, repelled by some unseen force. Hudson's concentration broke and the vibrant magical break in his weave sent him to his knees reeling in pain."Phantasm", he groaned as men rushed to his side.
Before they reached him they stopped however. Not in the way of simply abandoning the rush to aid, rather they ceased to move at all, frozen. Everything had stopped moving. The sails of the ships, the waves lazily breaking against the stern, the cold wind, everything...Everything except Hudson.
His face showed his confusion and his eyes held a hint of fear. He tried to cry out for the Captain but no sound came out or had he lost his hearing, he wasn't sure.
His thoughts found him however, 'hold fast' he thought. Rising to his feet he snapped the rapier out its scabbard. His eyes spun around looking, trying to find the source of the magic. He had a splitting head ache and felt the warmth of the blood dripping from his nose. Moving towards the captains doors, he approached the cabin when he felt it behind him and spun to meet the warmth at his back.
Thick black smoke like orbs struck him in his chest and stomach sending his entire body into violent convulsions. Hudson felt his hands numb and watched as his rapier went dancing wildly across the deck before freezing in mid air over a rigged barrel next to the steps to the helm. His cheek felt the cool laquered wood of the ships deck as he struggled to remain conscious. His body felt like it was being crushed under its own weight as though he had sunk deep beneath the sea. His eyes blurred in and out of focus as he saw the figure approaching, the outline of the pointed black hat, the gleam off the spectacles and the feminine curves of the hips and the buckled emerald green shoes. The shoes clacked against the deck as the figure drew closer. The shadow stepped over Hudson, as the shimmering glint of the figures shoes was the last thing Hudson Mormeck saw before blackness took him.
Turel could hear what was happening on deck but you could not move, could not force his voice forward to the crew. The energy buzzed all around as the cabin doors swung open. Before stood him Elisria, the Cormyrian Sea Witch. She was not in a uniform as he remembered her. No, now she actually looked like a witch, albeit a stunningly beautiful witch. Turel could see the glint coming off of her emerald shoes and spectacles as she entered the cabin, stepping over his first mate and slamming the cabin doors behind her .
"It is amazing to see a lowly criminal and ships cook come so far in such short time, none the less you are probably wondering why I, of all people, am here right now. I am here to represent the interests of my brother, the Grand corsair. You see Turel, after our ship sunk and I saved your life, I began planting the seed of your mysterious reputation all about the inner sea. I served Cormyrian masters only to learn the ways of their fleets. You however have managed to dodge warships from three nations and act with relative impunity because you are special Turel. You have changed your fate by taking to the sea and my brother recognizes a chance for an ally when he sees one. So I have come to make Parley and take your payment of homage... And to offer you a chance to ally with the last true pirates of the sea of fallen stars. But before I spin this pirates tale to you, I will let you speak as to your own intentions. Remember who I am Captain and realize that I could crush your ship with the wave of my hand. Your are destined for greatness but destinies can change. Choose wise the way you address this situation".
With a simple wave of her hand, the magical haze that hung in the room vanished, releasing Turel from it's hold and, instantly sending his bar of soap gripped in his left hand high into the room, landing somewhere among his bedsheets.
"Well..." the young captain pulled two arm fulls of bubbles towards him to hide his endowments. Caught stark in the middle of his bath, the captain pressed back in the wash tub and looked across the room to the bed where his clothes lay out, his sword and pistols nestled tightly to his belt laying across the foot chest. The immediate instinct to fight was quickly doused in warm water and the captain admitted to himself his stifled situation.
"This is not the exactly how I envisioned us meeting again. Though circumstances might be different if you did not arrive with such volatile intent...I take it my crew is disposed?"
She did not need to answer for Turel to imagine the condition on deck. Whatever the magic in play was, with no warning bell rang, no men calling from the deck, and knowing the ships officers would never have allowed her this far if they were of sound mind made the situation all too clear. No, this was an attack, and the Black Gull was caught with their pants down, a pity. They were so much better than that but woe is the digestion of magic for the ill-equipped. Looking down into the bath water, Turel smirked and then stood up. Between his legs lay a black crossbow of which he pulled from the tub and walked across the cabin to lay on the bed, dripping water and bubbles as he went. If it were anyone else barging into his room in such a manner he would have launched poisoned quarl from the bath and gutted them in the nude. But this was no brigand and he only had one shot. Moving across the bed he began to dress himself, pulling on his trousers and shirt as he spoke of her offer with the wisdom she so desired.
"First," he chuckled, pulling on a boot "Spare the idle threats witch. You've spared my life twice as I can recount. Once when ye saved me from the sea, and once again this morning. If ye were allowed to 'crush my ship with but a wave of yer finger' ye'd have done it from afar and we wouldn't be having this conversation. I've gold enough, but not that much. So as its not my gold, nor me crew or me possessions, it must be me which is keep'n ye to tongue waving, an not the other kinda wave'n, follow me?" Standing from the bed, Turel pulled on his black coat and his sword belt. He noticed an inching in her step as he reached for it, but he never slowed. "We both know I cannot defeat you, not with these lass." turning back, he sat finally on the corner of the bed, dressed, though damp, and fumbled in his pocket for a tobacco roll, lighting it along the candle at the side table.
"No, its my belief that ye were told to hold yer hand waving and mind ye patience. Weren't you? For see I've a letter here, and here in that letter it says the corsier will send an envoy, but to retrieve said gold, lamenting my lack of a formal introduction but adhering to my request. A reasonable sort he seems, and I commend him for it. I've no want or need to be friends, simply left to me own devices and be respecting his title is a fair trade for the gold. But then we have you...A cormyrian spy, brother to a corsier and here now taking apart me crew and me dignity with threats of death promoting allegiance. Heh, sounds abit too close to a females mentality, not the words of a pirate lord in the least."
Without giving the witch time to speak, Turel forced his words on, brashly speaking in as clear a manner without a trace of fear in his eyes. For what then was to fear, if his life was so valued, at least by his deductions.
"As for planting my seed, well, we barely know each other. An though I would not scarcely say I haven't imagined such a scene, ye've nay let me buy ye a drink witch. So shore any thoughts of seedlings Elrisria" Turel wagged his foot, enticing the curd display of attraction and playing upon his nude display as any young pirate might.
"So then, this is be my reply to your quarry...I nay can make a decision whilst me men an me crew be lathered up in ye waggled suds and misplaced magic. I be hear in these waters as a like minded enthusiast an entrepreneur. I did me part in noting grace where it be do to the corsier, and yet here ye be, trampling across me ship an me delights with latent words and vile temperament. Ye are no pirate of my ilk, yer a cormyrian cuddle fish, and a limp gilled fat one at that. Ye want gold honey? Take it with a smile!"
With two feet on his foot chest at the edge of the bed, Turel pressed the box across the wood floor, the water and bubbles helping it slide forward farther than otherwise capable. But in the kicking, Turel let his boot heel trigger the back panel release, sending the lid of the box flying open and setting off the numerous spring loaded needle traps on the underside of the lid. It was all the pirate captain could do, as he drew pistols and fired squarely at short range.
She was genuinely surprised by the Captains enginuity and the speed at which he had tried to balance the scales. It reminded her of her brother. Always the scoundrel and never the soldier. They had come so far in uniting the corsairs and making the pirate isles strong. Why she worked against their enemies, her brother engaged in all matter of illicit trades. No discipline, she said.
But Turel was not her brother. No he was young and his aura buzzed with mystery as if divination magic just curled and bounced off of him, garnering nothing. She paused for a long time, watching him move in slow motion, his every muscle movement and facial expression told her more of his intention an desire. The weapons did not alarm her, that is not why her foot tensed. Moving at the speed of celerity was not a simple task, it took placement and a strong will to control the speed. Turel couldn't know that she was moving four times faster than he was under the improved haste spell, no, of course he couldn't. He was like her brother, believing the sea would protect him and his ships. Bhaaa! The gods put too much faith in men, she was a better sailor than both of them and both Turel and her brother knew it. Still just like her brother, he did not respect her as a pirate. She dodged the poisonous barbs first, not in the physical sense, but by displacing herself just a few feet to the left. The chest slammed hard into the door to the cabin as she moved gracefully past both pistol shots at blinding speed and reached out to touch Turel, her hand full of soft red energy, licking lazily outward from her fingers.
"Good morrow Turel Pearlmade" she whispered as her hands reached for his exposed flesh, and then the room exploded with magical fluxuation. Boom! Tt resonated all around her stealing the sound from her throat and ears and stopping her cold.
The figure stepped out of some unknown door that was non- existent, stealing the color from the world .
From the robed figures hand, crackling silver energy grew and the grey cloaked figure stood from his crouched position.
"Perhaps the boy be no match for you, Sea Witch, but I for suren' be up to task."
Enraged, Elisria struck out with her soft red energy as the grey cloaked stranger met it with crackling silver and sent sparks flying across the cabin. The immense power made Elisria nervous and she released the spell, spinning for the door.
"Bhaaa" she screamed."This is not over Turel, one way or another eventually you will become part of our fleet!" sweeping out into the deck, she dissappeared into a bright white light, then all was quiet. Inside the cabin, the figure removed his hood revealing himself to be an old one- eyed man with a dusty grey beard, gold teeth and completely bald head. In his fist he held on to a green and gold staff and looking down to Turel, he laughingly held out his hand to help the pirate to his feet. "She's an outright spoiled brat that one is! Ain't got no kind o respect fer traditions! I be Marvel Crows Eye, Court Wizard of Dragon hall, and I was supposed to be collectin from ye. Your lucky I decided to be on time! The corsair bids you good travels for the year Captain and asks that you return for hanged mans festival in high summer. I hope the witch didn't due too much damage, quite obsessed wit ya that one is".
It all happened so fast, when the mans words finally caught up to Turel he was still holding pistols and spun on the wizard pulling the triggers again, though no shot was loaded and the powder was spent. Scattered, Turel looked around him, the barbs stuck in the door, the open chest with the corsiers gold staring back at him, and now another stranger speaking of Dragon Hall.
"You...she..was not the envoy...hah!" Turel spun his pistols back to his sides and swiftly shook the wizard's hand. "A fine display! Forgive me enthusiasm but near to wel o death before iv had me coffee has set me heart aflutter. I be Turel Pearlmade mate, captain o the black gull an proprietor to the White Raven. Though'n I figure ye know that much already. What I don't figure is what just transpired. So," Turel cleared his throat and reached for his hat, still hung along the bedpost. "Welcome to me ship, me crew an me praises, an pray ye stay long enough to share a drink and some breakfast, and we can divy out ye gold, an abit extra for save'n me life. Then mayhaps ye can explain what in Tymora that she devil was getting at" just as Turel seemed to regain his barrings, the cabin door exploded open. From the deck, Glemdrick crashed through the cabin axes in hand. His battle cry shook the walls and echoed far out to sea. Behind him, Hudson braced against the wall were he took up a snap of his hands, hurtling bolts of red energy from his fingertips. From beyond the door, a basking blue light clung to the chamber as Jesha called out in Tymora's name. Turel turned to stop the attack but barely getting a few sparse words out before Adrin stormed the chamber with dagger in hand nearly tumbling Turel to the ground. "Wait ye gully heads he be a fri---" but Turel was quickly pushed aside as his brave men rushed forward all at once with but one goal, protecting their captain.
As talented as the old wizard was however, Ole Crows Eye was no match for such a ferocity in the crew, not without using a few tricks up his sleeve anyway.
Glamdrick rushed like a maddened bear, arcing both gleaming silver axes vertically at the wizard's head. Ole Crows Eye ducked and slid to the left of Glamdrick on his knees as the axes swung overhead. Hudson's burst of magic missiles struck the wizard in his back causing him to cry out in pain and go crashing violently into the Turel's table, knocking over one of the chairs. Jesha, spouting a prayer, was answered in kind sending a cascading blue hue of Tymora's blessing over Turel and his officers, invigorating all of them and steeling their reserve against this unwanted intruder.
"Well, ye got my attention" Ole Crow was kneeling next to the table, smoke lazily wafting off his back from the burn of magical energy, his right hand clutching his staff. He didn't seem injured, just a little out of breath ."I ain't as spry as I used ta be, calm yourselves, ye wild sea dogs! I be for parley!, I yield, I yield!" The wizard screamed out, collecting himself and standing to his feet.
Jesha, Hudson, and Glemdrick had stopped their press all at once then as Ole Crows Eye had made himself somehow less threatening in that instant."Yes, calm yerselves salt children". His voice was soothing and almost melodic as it ranged out from his lips as calmness lingered about the cabin.
The soapy water soaked floor, strewn with gold and silver baubles, began to warm as Crows Eye continued to speak softly. Soon the water and soap had evaporated and only the gleam of condensation on the various jewels and gems remained from the Captain's brush with the sea witch.
Marvel spoke again."Please, let us put your captains dwelling back in ship shape order, no more harm will come to you or your crew." As Crows eye waved his staff over the table, slowly before Turel and his crews very eyes the chairs began to right themselves, the treasure floated listlessly into neat pile in front of the Captains chair upon the table, the broken door came to life and waddled back to it's twins opposite side piecing itself back together as it moved into it's natural place. In mere minutes the entire cabin was as if no tussle of might and magic had taken place just moments before.
"I've become quite good at that. Tis a messy business dealin with that lil' she-devil. To strong fer er own good I've been sayin fer years! Fancies erself a bit more than she should. I can see yer not a lot that be too concerned with the histories of Elind and Elisria Starsworn but ye should take heed in their means O gettin what they want. Elind is a man if great patience and has never lost O battle with ship, sword or wit. He knows ye seek freedom and understands the notion of keeping ye knees clean and your pockets fat! It ain't as if he's for callin himself pirate king. No me hearties, he's the Grand Corsair! The greatest pirate to ever set sea legs upon a ship, his sword flows like a galleon through a sea of blood!... Er... Where was I?" The venerable caster had lost his train of thought just for a moment. "Ah yes, yes...To the business at hand. To your request Captain Turel Pearlmade. The Grand Corsair, Elind Starsworn, Dread Lord of Dragon Isle, Master and commander of the Dread fleet, accepts your payment of homage and grants you freedom from the chains of alliance to the Corsairs of the pirate isles...But...Cannot offer you any protection either". Crows eye struggled to sound as courtly as he possibly could.
"You are bid freedom from any attack by a dread pirate for six months. In return for his kindness the Grand Corsair requests that you return in summers end to attend the hangedmans festival and join him in a celebration to honor the Bitch Queen. In fact he has offered to make you his guest of honor, a high honor indeed for it is you that will bring the offering to be hung, if your offering is accepted by Umberlee's blessing, she will continue to procect the pirates of the inner sea. If you are inclined to accept this parley, you may go in peace Captain. What say you?" Crows Eye seemed out of breath from the gaggle of fancy words that had shot forth from him. His furled grey brow showed his intent and focus as he awaited the Captains answer.
Watching the cabin right itself, Turel looked at his crew, and then to the old wizard. Removing his hat, he swayed in his slow pace and moved to his place at the head of his table. From his belt he drew a dagger and spun it into the table where it stuck with a shudder. "Well then," the young captain smiled, "Lets Parley, shall we?"
The crew moved to their places, Hudson at Turel's left alongside Jesha. Glemdrick took up the right with Mr. Wolf who had lingered by the door until the attack had ceased. The five officers watched as the wizard sat at the end, his knees taking him slowly to his seat. With staff in hand, he narrowed his one eye at the crew and waved his hand, bidding them to sit aswell. Beside each of them, Master Adrin set glasses and poured wine. He lit five candles along the table and then tucked himself away to the side where he stood with bottle in hand and watched. All around them the room danced with soft amber shadows, across the oak floor, curling themselves at the edges of paintings and trophies who stared back at the scene like silent ghosts. Captain Turel motioned for the chest of gold, to which Adron quickly drug from the bedside. Opening the box, the sheen of gold stared back at them and for a moment a twitch in Turel's eyes showed how he long to posses it, if just for a while longer. Shaking the notion away, Turel finally sat and took up his glass.
"A toast, first...To the Black Gull"
"To the Black Gull" they said in unison, and took their drinks, waiting on Turel to begin the terms of the parley.
"This be an a decorum suit'n a man of the sea...An as Captain of the Gull, I vow me word an me honor that I agree on'er bow an sail, for less the bitch queen take'er from me, an Tymora bless me in grace, that I will uphold me promises...until the hangman's fest...as does me crews" to each of his officers, the captain's gaze slipped. "Aye, Aye, Aye my captain...Aye" Glamdrick growled finally. Sipping his glass with the others, Turel made his vow and then set the drink away. His mannerisms seemed to immediately change, as the cunning in him took to his tongue, his shoulders broadened and his poise relaxed into the seat. "So we be agree'd to yer terms Crow. The Black Gull be'n our flag ship will nay lay a baubled finger on the dread fleet. Nay the White Raven an her crew, who I be state'n their vows of honor here, save the time that a Gull fly's an I can speak to'em me self of what we say tonight. For the Hangman's festival, I'll see to the savy dog that'll find'er way to yer rope. But that choice be mine, and mine alone. Fer honor is what binds this promise, an the honor be this captain's alone. That, I take it, is your invitation...Now then, as for the digression of civil instruction. I take it I an me crew be privy to a boon" with an accepting nod, the old wizard listened intently if with slight smirk to play his curiosity. "Good," Turel likewise smiled. "There be a great many things I might request...gold, comes to mind of course," the crew all chuckled at the captain's well to-do addiction. Turel calmed them with a raised hand however and continued. "But that would be a grave waste of such a bounty...I might ask as well," his spirit darkened "At a revelation, to Elisria's words, and my fate. But that I know is not how my story goes. I will learn such truths when the sea deems it...So then..." pausing in thought, Turel drummed his fingers for a moment, allowing his eyes to hold on the dancing flames of the candles. Nodding to himself, he leaned into the table on one elbow. "Protection is not what I seek, but information. There be a pursuit in order, from service bereft. They would have me on bended knees, kept from freedom. I speak of my former captain, his first mate and of the deaths that were brought about to regain that freedom. I know, Sumharra is looking for me. I've eyes and ears enough. Though agree'd or not on the departure from our last encounter, he is somewhere in this sea. I know that he sails with dictation from the others, the bilge rat first mate I imagine has his hand to play in it. So then it seems to me that to best know the intent of my old friend, I should like to see him again...Tell me where he is, and I will consider the boon settled."
Pulling back, Turel rested in his decision and waited for the wizard's answer.
To simply say that Ole Crow's Eye was comfortable now would have been an understatement. He had taken a wide berth sitting half- cocked his chair and was rather enjoying the good drink and the atmosphere of unique indulgences such a young and ambitious Captain came to posses. His robes sat softly on him and his sea worn face showed his age but there remained an elegance about the wizard. He didn't seem like the terrible and all powerful wizards of tales one would hear from those who claimed to encounter, nor was he demanding like the Elisria's of this world. No the man was not for battles. Turel struck him as a plotting sort, slightly greedy and willing to lead by example. These people sitting at his table were his most trusted crew and it seemed that each of them was willing to die for their Captian. His ship was dutiful, a superbly crafted sea vessel and his crew was to task. Yes, Crows Eye knew Captain Pearlmade by his reputation, a profiteer, his business was piracy and business was good.
He chuckled at first as he replied "Ah hehehe...Seekin yer old friend fer a bit O sail down down the river of memories, lookin fer that closure, I understand the itch and yer need to scratch it. The answer to that question is simple really. Sumharra sails but not as a Captian, see he went and commissioned a Galleon and got some crazy raidin sort fer a Captain, a caster of his own for the a first mate and a large bank roll. He sails around the coast line from Raven Bluff bearing a heading of south by southeast. Now I'm not yet knowin where he'd be headin but a far as a my familiar has seen he has been heading into the deep waters heading for the cape islands."
With his staff, the old man gestures to Turel's Port side window. "Go ahead take a look at Meheera, she's something else." Adrin quickly ran over and began unfurling the drapes over the window. As the light poured into the Captains chamber everyone rose to see what the old man was talking about. As eyes met sea level a large shape took form, at first long, dark and shadowed as it rose from the depths. Then it broke the surface as a deep grey body arced from the water exposing the great tail that followed as the grey whale dove once again.
"She is a go getter that one." He looked pleased with himself as Adrin rolled the drapes back down and the crew took their seats."So does that answer suffice, Cap'n? Shall we come to an accord and retire from this parley?"
"Indeed it does Crow. I be famished in decent repose an hope'n ye take the gold back to the corsier. And," Turel looked to young Adrin and then motioned for his dagger."Lemme see ye knife boy" The boy quickly produced the weapon and Turel in turn handed it to the wizard "Take this as well me friend, know'n ye ain't likely the type to swing'er against me in the future. It be a symbol of me gratitude fer yer aid in deal'n ol' wench a bit of trouble. An mayhaps if'n ye fancy it, ye might be spark'n a rumor or two of me lads craftsmanship with ye well-to-do wizards an such. I know the boy'd love his work appreciated in the highest regard." Turel did not leave his servant un-armed of course. Instead he drew his own dagger from his boot, the same blade that had killed Neptune his former first mate and namesake to his pet seagull and Crissock the half-orc who replaced the former mate and in like fashion felt the touch of death. The blade had seen many lives ended over the years and as well slew more than a few mangy pirates in its use. Handing the black handled dagger to the boy, Turel slipped a few fair sized diamonds into the boy's pocket as well while his eyes were set upon the captains blade.
"Now, If'n ye excuse me Crow. I have a course to set and an ol'friend to be gett'n re-aquatint with"
Turel ushered the crew out of the cabin and set to shake Old Crow's hand before the wizard left the main deck just as quickly as Elisria had. For a moment the crew watched as the wizard's magic drew him away and back to whatever place he hailed, leaving them all with a sense of wonderment for the magical arts. But as the moment passed, Captain Turel spun back into command, snapping them from their fantasies.
"Change'O course ye savy dogs. Bring er'about!" with a growl of command, Turel set himself to the wheel with Hudson beside him. Across the deck the crew fell into place, their calls and shouts spinning the ship and setting her into full sail. Beside them Glemdrick rallied them on to hold sail, fill the sheets and set full tackle as the top sails gave way to the full sail and stronger winds.
Beside Turel, Hudson began to inquire for the map and direction for Sapphire island. But it was Turel's sudden spinning of the wheel that brought a curious look to the sailing master. "I take it we aren't headed for the island then Captain?"
Turel looked to Hudson with a serious notion. "How can I commit this crew to a home port, if they be still threatened by the shadow of my betrayal?...No Mr. Hudson. We head for the coast. Let the corsair believe we are hiding in a cove here in the dragon isles. Let Arnus believe we've long forgotten about him. But this ship and her crew, will see to the end of this ghost, once and for all...And Mr. Hudson"
Hudson with his compass in hand never looked up as he checked his points.
"Yes my Captain?"
"See that a letter is sent to the Raven of our new course"
"Right away my Captain"
With the Black Gull in full sail, the ship cut the sea with a speed only held by veteran sailors, or hungry pirates. As the Gull cut the waves in graceful dives. She fought the wind in the morning but by noon the current had taken hold with an updraft so powerful it seemed as though the sleek brig floated on the water. Her crew was at rest by sunset with only a quarter of the hands on deck with no need for man power. Any more speed and she would risk blunt trauma at the stern. Below deck the crew took advantage of the extra sleep, though a few souls unable to settle in for the long voyage did as most of Captain Turel's men enjoyed when the weather favored their passage, they gambled. The value of a nobles earnings in a year might come and go on the tables but the sailors played on. No stake was too high, not for men of the profitable Captain Turel. Normally wealth would spoil any sense of comradery among the pirates. But Turel himself knowing from experience the inner squabble that larceny could entail, developed a set of 'house rules'. Among which was that no man would starve and though a losing hand may well cost you time at the mass, she could not break a man. Insufficiency before the Captain's eyes led to loss of moral and gave a sailor the taste for vengeance.
It was deeper below deck in the galley that Hudson Mormeck found himself with ample time to develop his own tastes, with Turel at the helm young master Adrin busied in the kitchen with a cunning tempest. Plates of oysters in sweet sauce and chives were set away from Hudson as an entry of scallops and sea snake floated pass the kitchen doors steaming on white ceramic plates. Adrin barely spoke as he set the food before his navigator and only curtly nodded to Hudson's repeated thanks. The two had grown fond of these moments, Hudson being one of the only crewman still hungry for seafood of any kind and Adrin so enjoying the fruits of his labor was not so ready to cease appeasing his only customer. "A round of cherry pie Mr. Hudson? I should see to it before they bitter an not likely to be bought by the men."
Hudson scowled at the idea of letting the fruit go to waste. "By all means, It'll still be hot once I've finished this kings feast" Again Adrin chuckled at Hudson's appeal but truly had already begun preparing the desert. "Though Master Adrin. The men have gold enough, why the stillness in the kitchen? You're obviously skilled and they can afford the finer appetite. I've no notion of complaints" Hudson's voiced carried through the doors but Adrin did not reply until he returned with a tall order of lemonade. "The fish I can understand Mr. Hudson. They breath the sea, live on the sea, they smell it, taste it," the two in unison "bathe in it" spoke of a like minded sentiment. "So to eat from it, more so than is needed is simply too much. They don't hate my cooking. They may think I'm too young to be called Master, and the lack of blood on my hands sully's their appetite I think. I remind them of home maybe. Some of the men have sons my age." Stepping back into the kitchen the truth in the boy's words was confounded with the disagreement for what Adrin represented to the crew.
"I seem to recall you standing on order just as they did when battle took us. You were no less in the fight, simply unneeded. There is no shame in standing on reserve Master Adrin" he spoke the title with reverence. "And I do mean master my boy. You've no officer above you save the Captain. You've no commander as the Raven does, dictating your services. You do, and without aid since the loss of young Mouse to the White Raven. This kitchen is your ship, I think that is why the Captain has such demand for you, and calls you a master unto yourself." There was a stillness in the galley, until Adrin pressed open the door to the kitchen. A heartfelt understanding was shared between the two until Adrin quietly nodded his thanks and returned again to the pie.
"You know," Hudson changed the subject "The Captain's first detail was as a cook." Adrin's interest peaked "Truly sir?" he called from the wood burning oven.
"Aye, it was aboard the Hygendrell, the Cormyrian flag ship. I'm sure you've heard the tale. But before that he served on many a fishing coaster in the waters near Westgate. Then too, he cooked, mostly fish and crab or so he tells me." Hudson chuckled as he dug into the snake meat then poured a glass to wash it down. "I would surmise that is why he is so avid on fishing. It's a wealthy market just twenty feet below us." Shutting the oven, Adren finally left the cooking to time and set himself at the table with a small saucer of odds and ends left over from the meal. Hudson poured a glass of the sweet lemonade for the boy and turned the largest of his scallops over to Adrin's plate.
"But sir, you've paid too much already. Please I've eaten plenty."
Hudson just shook his head "Nonsense. Do you think I don't know how tight your books are Master Adrin?" the boy looked down to his plate as though he had been caught with one hand in the sweets jar. "You push your stock to it's limit and you eat buttered loafs of bread or left overs." With a smile, Hudson tapped the table, motioning for the boy to eat.
"I take it your saving for something then?" he baited.
With wide eyes, a smirk crept up on Adrin which he filled with a full mouth of scallop. "Ruh rowrow ruh rur rorrin rurut."
With a swift hand Hudson reached out and flicked the boy in his ear.
"I'm still an officer boy, mind ye manners. Swallow before speaking"
Adrin finally swallowed, finished with his game and set the fork away for his drink.
"I mean sir, I think you would laugh at me if I told you."
Now curious, Hudson leaned forward. "Well, Hows this. I will tell you something which you'll laugh about. And then you will tell me why your saving so much gold behind the third drawer up on the bottom left of the cabinet."
Surprised, Adrin lost his tongue for words at Hudson's revealation.
"Do not be so amazed, I saw you put my gold there before the door closed. You should probably move it to your footlocker. You don't suspect it'll be stolen do you?"
Adren gulped again at Hudson's keen observations, but shook his head at the idea of thievery. "No, of course not sir...I just, don't have anymore room in my locker...I've sort of been keeping my clothes in an old corn barrel below deck and now I'm putting the overflow in that drawer until I can buy a bigger locker at port."
Hudson was somewhat confused. "Overflow?...You mean gold overflow?"
Adren nodded his head "Aye, around two thousand I suppose. The other six only fits in the locker if I stack it perfectly one coin on another. The crew thinks I'm rubbing it in their faces. I just don't know what else to do with it"
Hudson immediately burst out in laughter and ruffled the boy's blonde locks. "I say Adren, you don't know what to do with it! Ha, I'll have to tell Turel of this. His jaw will drop so far, Jesha will have to roll up his tongue for her endowments, or maybe not," Hudson slapped the boy on the shoulder "Cunnilingus is nay a sea so deeply traversed I think!" beset with his own humor the bard could tell however that Adrin seemed lost.
"Cunnilingus?" the boy questioned.
"Ah well it is the act of...Well, when a man and a women care for each other...or rather, if the women has been paid...or, well if she is willing I suppose, or the man is in some cases.." as Hudson stammered with the definition, Adrin slowly reached out, and flicked him in the ear.
"Manners, Mr. Hudson."
The two smiled and Hudson slowly nodded before rendering his tale.
"It was the summer of my sixteenth birthday. I knew a young women from my church and we celebrated the restoration of Waukeen and Tymora together by the lakeside. We picnicked in the afternoon and when the sun set we made love by the water and slept in each other's arms until sunrise..."
Adrin narrowed his vision on Hudson, still not understanding. "I thought this was an embarrassing story.." But Hudson raised a finger with entitlement.
"She was my sister. Her mother hid her from us because she feared my father's work with the Zulkir's. A third child would likely be taken as an apprentice and never seen again. It wasn't until Tarla and I planned to marry that we learned of our relation through a blessing performed by our cleric. Suffice to say we parted company and I found myself on the shores of Algoron with nothing but my fiddle and a broken heart." with raised brows Hudson sipped his drink and set it away, pausing for the laughter, which never came however.
"That's not funny. That's terribly sad. Didn't her mother recognize you before you two.." Hudson nodded at the idea. "She would have, if she were still alive at the time. The summer before Tarla and I came together an eagle dropped a stone on her mother's head killing her instantly. It was very strange but from what I understand the bird is a scavenger and sometimes carries clusters of oysters from the sea and drops them over land to break up the shells. The cleric called the entire ordeal a stick by which Cyric reminds us he is always present in our lives."
As Adrin tried to comprehend the description, Hudson mearly accepted that such a lie was neccesary to drop the boy's defenses in lue of his squirreling away gold. The old tale spoken by clerics in his youth, spent more on the quality of death and it's vast untimelyness then it served as a moral compass he thought.
"So you see, while I truly enjoy shellfish, the observational humor is not lost on me. Otherwise, I might starve"
Taking his time to consider Hudson's words, Adrin stared for a while at the last scallop on his plate before finally looking up, his eyes welling back the tears before he could hold in his laughter no longer and it exploded from his lips, spraying Hudson in the face with spit and lemonade.
"Would you like some pie then, Mr. Hudson!" the two shared applauding humor, though Hudson's was short lived as he shook his head absently, the joke being something of an old walk for him.
"Yes Adrin, pie would be great."
As Adrin left the table still laughing, he pulled the cherry pie from the oven and set it on the counter letting it cool. Setting out two plates he began to douse the stove with water sending thick smoke into the galley. Hudson opened the hatch to the top deck to vent the room and soon the two were again sitting at the table, the pie crust still steaming in the cold midnight air.
"Maybe you should have kept the fire. It will be third shift soon."
Adrin shook his head as he fanned the pie with a handkerchief. "They'll eat buttered toast and poached eggs and like it!" he laughed again.
"So," Hudson dictated him. "Tell me your story".
Looking up with a smile, the boy reached into his vest pocket and pulled a piece of folded paper, setting it on the table. Opening the fold, it was a sketching, and remarkably a good one of a young woman with pearls around her neck.
"Is this your sister?" Hudson asked.
"No! Shut up" the two chuckled.
"Her name is Amnniella. She's the constable's daughter in Mulmaster. She's eighteen and very beautiful...and rich. I've always looked up to her and my friends used to tease me because I'm poor and her father is a nobleman and they knew I loved her. But I never told her how I felt and she was betrothed to a rich merchant in Tantras. That's why I joined Captain Turel's call for crewman. I hoped I could make enough money to visit her and maybe...I don't know"
Hudson leaned back in his chair, smitten. "You want to win her from him. To show her you might not be a rich nobleman but you have adventure in you, and love. Something more than an arrangement for marriage to a crusty old merchant in Tantras."
Adrin nodded "Yes, exactly."
Leaning into the table again, Hudson brought his voice to a whisper.
"There is one thing you're forgetting son."
Adrin turned his head slightly "What?"
Reaching to Adrin's ear, the boy pulled away on instinct as though he would be flicked again. But Hudson twirled his fingers and produced a platinum coin instead.
"You are poor no longer" he smiled.
Adrin smiled as well, and looking at the coin, he reached out and took it. Finally looking to Hudson, there was a sense of relief in his eyes, as though it needed saying for the truth to find a home. "Yes, I guess I am...Well, Pie then?"
Hudson took it upon himself to take up the knife and cut into the desert.
"Oh, by all means allow me, 'Master' Adren." |
"Beware the Dream Fever!" |
Edited by - Cbad285 on 26 Feb 2014 16:24:56 |
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Poetries and Fables from the Heartlands
