Reginold Finklestein's page

He followed the woman while looking at her backside. She looked like a half elf with traits of some elf he'd never encountered. When she looked back he averted his eyes but too late. That was a mistake. She gave a warning look. He'd nearly forgotten that lodging was included. Since the boat, things in his head were all jumbled up.

He could swear there was a bird eyeing him earlier. The odd thing was, it seemed to have intelligence behind the glass eyes. Like it was sizing him up. Anything is possible but it gave him the willies. He noticed that his eyes had gone back down to her backside and ...

He was on the ground and wasn't sure how he got there. Did she hit him? Maybe it was her feet. He got up and was slightly dizzy. She didn't do any permanent harm but he though how that might have looked in a crowd. He looked around and people averted their eyes and walked around. Apparently she looked like someone not to trifle with.

She has wits, but could use a better disposition. Reginold mused to himself. He got up and continued to follow her. Now very careful to look elsewhere.

Reginold was sitting by the fire. Far from it at the moment as he ate a brothy soup. His face was red, which was good because it was covering up the blushing. A few stout men of different races were laughing as one man recounted today's past events. One man in particular looked in pain as he laughed himself to stitches.

"You should have seen his face when she kissed his brother." Said an older looking man with crossed stitched scars along his body. "He just stammered and looked perplexed. A real cutie though. He didn't have a clue; just looked off and the best part. He still thought they were related till last night when I talked him through it."

The man in stitches fell to the ground crying.

"I'm, I'm going to bed." Reginold retorted and put down his soup. He then proceeded to walk to his quarters. This did not go as he expected. He had thoughts of getting some of the respect his father had. Perhaps it was idle fancies. He didn't have any experience and he wondered if he'd ever have it. They'd been calling him Fig which was short for figurehead. They gave him a week to recover but he'd start his daily constitutional tomorrow. He had to be fit for what he would be about.

Reginold awoke again to someone carrying him. The person was oddly gentle. Thin dark hands held his arms and he thought perhaps it was a woman's. He raised his head to find finely trimmed goatee and sinister piercing eyes. Okay, if not a woman definitely elven. The smirk quickly left Reginolds face.

Nearby a beautiful woman stood looking at him with pursed lips. It was, what was it? Gisselle! So vulnerable and so beautiful. They had been playing kissing games earlier in the voyage to the chagrin of her brother; a brutish looking man with a nasty scar on his right cheek. He does look quite menacing. Good presence. He'd make a good gladiator.

"I can walk," he said to the elf. Again, his lips didn't move and it came out a bit mumbled. The elf, drow by the look, dark and all, raised an eyebrow and unceremoniously lowered him on his legs. His legs immediately buckled. After a few moments, maybe a minute, he was on his legs. Wobbling but standing. Triumph!

Gisselle walked up and wrinkled her nose. If only there was a Wizard to the Presidity thingy. She came to his ear and whispered, "Thanks for the money." She smiled warmly and Reginold was just confused. She walked back and held his brother closely. Too close They began to kiss. Really kiss. "Your brother!" He stammered. The dark elf began to chuckle. Reginold didn't see the joke. That likely meant he was the joke.

Reginold's skin was rather crispy at this point. He felt the world lurch to and fro, and for the moment, he couldn't understand why. His skin would pulse in pain with the rhythm of the rocking when he was reexposed to the sun. At least they left him his small clothes. Small comforts. His wrists and ankles were red and irritated, but because of the bindings, that part of his body wasn't sunburnt. Wasn't he looking for something?

Blue. The ropes were blue. Rope for the jib, then? He was on a ship. That's right. Where was the money? That's what he needed to find. Did he hide it? He didn't remember hiding it. Maybe they stole it. He couldn't remember the last few days.

Was he upside down? He was tied to the Bowsprit. Just over the water like some figurehead. He'd been falling in and out of consciousness for the last few days, but thankfully they took pity on him and gave him water. What was it, two days ago?

As of now, he was awake but they only jeered and scoffed when he pleaded with them so he was content to pretend to sleep. What was that foul odour? Not the fish, something more animal. That ... was him. Don't they know who I am? Thoughts of a warm bath were both appealing and appalling. Where was that blasted money!

Oh, blessed shade. A cloud? He basked in its shadow. He opened his eyes with a jolt of pain. Someone was not tender with his skin. "Wake up, Mr Finklestein." Another jolt. "Oh, hello." That's what he tried to say. It came out as a grunt. For some reason, his lips wouldn't move.

"We're here, Mr Finklestien. If ..." A grave voice breathed heavily as if winded. " ... that is your real name. I hope, for your sake, that your family is waiting at the pier. The Captain wants his money."

Well hello.

Simmers with excitement! Are there cave of Drows? Let's go there first!