|
It was a stormy morning on Lake Brey. A lone passenger carrack christened the Queen Lorsanna rode the waves and the storm on the Lake well. It left Isla i Gador carrying the last Prisoners of War. People captured during the last war. The rain was calming in the early morning, as six prisoners slept on board with many others.
All six of them were dreaming, but who can say what they were dreaming? Was it the horrors of the Last War? Or was it pleasant dreams? But the promise of being released to their own countries couldn't come soon enough. All of the prisoners aboard the Queen Lorsanna greeted the news that they were finally going to be released to their own countries with glee.
"Wake up!" said an elven voice. "Are you dreaming? Wake up!"
Wake up!"... "Are you dreaming? Wake up!"
Danir came awake with a start- he had been dreaming, dreaming of the last time that he saw his parents. He had gone home to Whitehearth to inform his parents that he was leaving House Cannith and enlisting directly with the forces of Cyre- he could not abandon his comrades and the nation he had grown up in simply because the House had ordered him to.
Things had gone badly, and his last words with his parents had been bitter and angry- they were disappointed and angry with him for betraying his House while he was upset that they could not see his point of view... As he shook the sleep from his head and rose, Danir wished one last time that he could change that day, at least say goodbye on good terms if not save them outright.
"Today will be the first free day of my life," he thought to himself, and the thought filled him with a mix of joy and anxiety- he had no land to go back to, no House, no family, what was he to do with this freedom? As he turned to face his future, Danir remembered his goal- to return to the blasted land of his birth, now the Mournland, and to see for himself what had happened at Whitehearth and hopefully find some mementos of his parents and family. But before that could happen he needed to face this first day...
Kyndril jerked out of his sleep, sitting bolt upright as he looked around for the source of the voice. He blinked blearily at his surroundings, expression dully curious, until he abruptly recalled where he was. The Queen Lorsanna. Wonderful. Awake now, he patiently waited for the interruption of his rest to be explained. Well, at least the Flame might smile on him and make this quick. He was tired of being imprisoned, tired of being unable to work his magic.
Othan awakes from a dream about his last battle, watching his comrades being cut down while he has to badly hurt to aid them. When he wakes up he realizes that his mindblade had been subconsciously manifested. He begins to look around for the person who called him.
Perception check
I turn around to find out what is going on dismissing my blade as I turn.
Good morrow stranger, I am Othan and who might you be, who has disturbed our rest.
As he hears someone address the person that had woken them, Danir looks around to see if there are any small rocks or pebbles that he might use as a weapon.
"Wake up!"
Ebran woke up in a better mood than usual. The nights in prison had brought him little in the way of pleasant dreams. He dreamt primarily of his life in Sarlona, moving from town to town, never settling, while his family dwindled to nothing from the collateral damage from the unseen conflict.
Last night, however, brought him dreams of relatively more recent history. The rocking of the carrack reminded him of his years at sea. The thrill of repelling boarders, sneaking aboard known pirate ships and sabotaging them, truly days to make a man feel alive. Whether sea-lass or airship, Ebran truly preferred his freedom free of land.
"I am Ebran," he said as he stood, looking around to assess his location.
Kyndril tilts his head at the gathered prisoners, green eyes sweeping over them before finally coming to rest on the elf. A faint smile appears on his face. Freedom, at last! It hardly seemed real, but even less real was the prospect of actual peace, something his mother had told him of as a child. The Last War, as they were calling it now, over? After a century? It was amazing. Surely the Church would now have much more time to devote to eradication of evil, a prospect that delights Kyndril.
"I am Kyndril Mieren. What about you?" He looks around the cabin, then sighs. "Where exactly are we docking, again?"
"I am called Danir, what is your name stranger?"
Xov nervously glances around at the elf who had called out, and at the other soon-to-be-released prisoners.
"I am known as Xov."
As he glances at the other people, he looks for anything unusual about them.
"I am called Alassindon," said the elf. "We are docking at Hatheril, an elvish community -- ah to be among my own again!"
Blend in, talk to them!, thought Xov.
[B]"It certainly will be nice to be among elven kin," he replied.
Okay, wait, but I don't want to talk too much. Just a little.
"An elvish community?" Danir thought to himself, "As good a place as any to start my new life, since I'm not going home anytime too soon."
"What of we Cyrans? Where are we to go now?"
an elf community, interesting. Do they pay thier soldiers well?
|
|
Xov:
You see Ebran's Assur Dragonmark on the left side of his neck, but you can't be sure but somehow it looks like
To all:
"I don't know about Cyrans," said the Elf. "I haven't the slightest idea. I was a prisoner like yourself." The boat rocks and creaks in the water, even though the feeling of forward motion has stopped.
Kyndril remains quiet, simply taking it all in and planning for the future. After a few moments, he opens his mouth to ask Alassindon
"What do you know of Hatheril? Other than the facts that we are here and that it is an elven settlement, of course."
The magus surveys his fellow prisoners lazily, eyes bright.
Xov cautiously looks at everyone, trying to work out if anything strange was going on.
** spoiler omitted **
|
|
"What do you know of Hatheril? Other than the facts that we are here and that it is an elven settlement, of course."
"Nothing except it's our ticket home," said Alassindon.
Steps could be heard coming towards you and your group's compartment aboard the carrack. The door opens and there is a strong, burlish guard standing in the door way.
"This is where you get off, follow me," he commands. He awaits everyone to stand up and get moving. Alassindon says:
"You better do as he says."
Kyndril stands, stretching slowly. A catlike smile appears on his face as he looks at the guard, and he very deliberately starts to walk towards the man, eyes glittering.
"Of course, good sir. Ah... Will my spellbook be returned to me?" He asks the guard, then shrugs, knowing he likely cannot change what will happen. If the Silver Flame was with him, it would go well, and he would be permitted to leave. If not, then, well, he couldn't exactly try to escape yet. Patience was in his blood, it seems, what with the elven heritage. The half-elf walks where the guard directs him, keeping a sharp eye out for anything out of place. Like people waiting with crossbows or pikes to spit him, for example.
Ebran follows as bidden, not looking to rock the boat.
Xov walked quietly towards the guard, glad that he didn't have to worry about a spell-book. On the other hand, he would need his spell component pouch for all but the simplest of spells. He did not worry, though, as there was nothing expensive in his pouch when he was captured. His familiar ven'xol slid along behind him.
|
|
You see a long hall way, with other compartments. Most of them are empty. It seems that yours was the last. At the end of the hallway is a ladder. Oh, there is a hole in the floor that leads to the bottom hold where the cargo and the food you've been eating was stored. There seems to be a trap door above the ladder, and there is a woman at the end of the hall, also in Brelish livery.
Through your familiar its much the same, except you get a belly view. Fortunately the view is in color. The little snake saw most of the compartments were empty. Who was left were prisoners who committed murder and are convicted to die. They will be taken to another place, where they will get their just desserts. Some of the murderers look at you with eyes of savagery, hate, and scorn.
Xov cautiously approached, speaking no words, but making a quizzical face, as if you ask "who are you?"
Similarly to the human, Kyndril follows the drow's lead. A drow! Here! He marvels at the sheer unlikelihood of the event, and makes sure to ask the man about the fabled Xen'drik, soon. Surely there were great mysteries of magic and battle to be found there! But first, the magus remembered, his expression growing grim, he would have to get home. Preferably with all his limbs still attached, and maybe even with his spellbook returned to him? He smiles at the woman, a little awkwardly, but speaks nevertheless.
"Excuse me, but... Where are we to go?'
Danir approaches the ladder as his turn to climb up to the deck comes, while he waits, he looks up through the trapdoor at the sky, attempting to determine the current weather above deck.
Kyndril follows Danir up.
Xov hurries up the ladder as he is bid, carrying ven'xol with him. "How do I get out of this?" he wondered,
I follow the group up the ladders, ready to manifest my mind blade if anything goes wrong.