Tokiwong
First Post
Chapter 7 - Part 3
“So what do you think, I mean it isn’t magical like your rapier, but it is finely crafted and of dwarf manufacture!” Dais marveled as he rested his hand on the pommel of his new masterwork blade.
Osan nodded his face shrouded by his large whicker conical hat. He could barely suppress a smile at his companion’s joy. But there was something in the air, a tingle of something vaguely familiar, something dark… something that hinted at the periphery of his conscious. The cold vacuum of evil, a familiar if nauseating sensation seemed to fill the large parlor.
“That was really nice of Captain Fletcher to give up his enchanted blade to you,” Dais gestured to Ayala as she paced about the room admiring the various artifacts about the room. The chamber was rectangular in shape and at the center was a fire pit, circled by smoothly cut stone dais. Divans and sofas circled the fire pit, and the roof of the structure was made of glass allowing light to naturally filter into the chamber, lighting the whole room. The heady smell of cinnamon incense filled the room and a cool breeze kept the room quite comfortable and pleasing. The ambient buzz of magic was readily apparent in the chamber.
“Why he had no use for it anymore, he is dead, and I am still very much apart of the living,” she replied with a generous smile.
“Well of course, but I mean, it is an honor, right?” the lowlander questioned.
“I doubt she sees it as an honor, Dais,” Osan interrupted, “by right the blade is hers, she claimed it. The privateer’s spirit has no claim to it, but it was a nice gesture, I will agree.”
“Okay,” Dais replies somewhat confused, but shrugs it off.
“Dais you worry about the stupidest things,” Ayala whispered dancing her fingers over his muscular shoulder, “and yes I do like your sword,” she said with a flick of her tongue.
Dais smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Thankfully the moment was interrupted by the doors to the large chamber opening, as a tall gaunt man with graying hair standing in the doorway. His steel gray eyes scanned the room in a casual glance as he walked into the chamber, his footsteps echoing off the marble floor as he walked into the room, a gray rat resting on his shoulder. Draped over his shoulders was a crimson cape, immaculately placed over his silken black shirt. A gold chain holding a red jewel, hung over his neck across his chest. His black trousers were equally fine and well made and were snugly worked into his polished boots, a delicate shine gleaming back at the trio.
The man bowed his head, spreading his palms in a show of faith, as he raised his head he spoke, “The Green Man bless your travels. Welcome Captain Celeste, I am pleased to see that you are well; I heard that your journey ran longer then expected. Was their trouble?”
“Not at all Percival, bad weather, and a green crew, but nothing I would clarify as trouble. But thankfully my competent First Mate,” she gestured to Dais, “learned quickly and was quite helpful in getting your cargo here intact.”
Percival turned his gaze to Dais, “Does this competent First Mate have a name?”
“Dais, son of Hunder of Ironwall, most honored one,” the young lowlander bowed.
“Honored one?” Ayala said aloud.
“He is a member of the Panthic Order, Captain,” Osan spoke from behind his obscuring wicker hat.
“Indeed I am,” Percival smiled at the tiefling’s comment, “I am a simple keeper of Lore and sage. Although I practice the art, my focus is that of knowledge and academics. But I ramble on about my own affairs. Dais, son of Hunder, child of Ironwall I am honored as well. Hunder’s exploits are well known to me.”
“You know my father?” Dais whispered in surprise.
“No, but I know of your father, of his exploits with the Griffon Company. He was the wielder of Light’s Fang, a powerful enchanted blade created to protect the lands of Anderland. I am surprised you did not know, lad,” the gentle wizard responded as he took a seat on a comfortable and plush divan.
“How do we even know that we are talking about the same Hunder?” Ayala rolled her eyes.
“Because this Hunder has two sons, Baile and Dais, and I am well acquainted with the elder of the two. He has made the quite name for himself in the north in the service of Griffon Company. I always wondered when the second son of this hero would set out on his own journey, and here he is before me. But it is no surprise that perhaps you do not know much of your father’s exploits. He retired from the Griffon Company years ago, and settled down outside of Ironwall last I had heard, trying to escape the legend he had become,” the wizard spoke.
“You seem to know much about my family, Honored One…”
“I am a student of history and lore, son of Hunder. I make it a point to study the great men and women of our age. Your father was a great man, and his legend whether he likes it or not, will live on. By that token I find it amusing that both of his son’s have taken up the sword and both seem bent on carving out their own names in the annals of history. But how shall the world remember you, son of Hunder? As a simple sword for hire, as a boy living in his father’s shadow, or as a legend?” Percival questioned.
“I don’t know…” Dais said weakly, “Why does it matter?”
“I see,” the wizard said sharply.
Ayala sighed, “Perhaps we can get down to business and speak of destiny another time, Percival?”
“Why of course,” the wizard’s eyes focused on Ayala, “what I promised I shall deliver with an extra bonus for your discretion.”
“That is much appreciated Percival, if you ever have need of a courier, remember that the Radical Dream is the swiftest ship on the sea. I hope to do business with you in the future, Honored One,” she bowed.
“I look forward to enlisting your services Captain Celeste, well then now that we have business settled, perhaps son of Hunder you could spare a moment to indulge me a few words?” Percival reclined on his divan making himself quite comfortable, as his rat scurried about on the floor.
He waved off Osan and Ayala, “I would prefer to speak to your first mate alone good Captain, my servants outside will pay you, as we have discussed. You are both excused.”
Ayala gave Osan a concerned look, but the stoic monk simply shrugged and walked to the door. Ayala opened her mouth for a moment and then just followed, giving a second glance over her shoulder to Dais as he watched his companions go, and then turned his attention to Percival.
Once the door closed behind Ayala, Percival spoke, “So tell me, how is your father these days, son of Hunder?”
“He is well Honored One, he spends his days in the fields working the land, as his father did before him, and his father did before him. He never seems to complain, despite the long and grueling hours he spends in the fields. Perhaps he wishes to escape the nagging of my mother,” he laughs weakly, “but he works hard, and worked my brother and I as well.”
“So the great Hunder has become a simple farmer, a far cry from the hero of the war of the Goblin Marches. His very name and sword struck fear into the hearts of the black creatures, and the giant skalds speak highly of his bloody campaigns against them. Despite being a hated foe, he earned their respect and many I believe still mourn that nary a hero has reached his status that would b worth facing in combat. Though your brother, Baile has gained in notoriety of late,” Percival replied smoothly.
“Aye, he has joined the Griffon Company,” Dais spoke in apparent reverence for his brother, “they say he is a terror to the forces of the Winter Wolf. I pray that the spirits of Anderland guide him to glory, if I am half the man my brother is, I will be happy.”
Percival rose in a smooth motion, “It seems you have not embraced your destiny, son of Hunder.”
“Destiny?”
“The winds of fate tug at the lowliest of things, some in gentle nudges, others with gale like force. Your bloodline is destined for great things; be it ill, or for good, you have the forces of destiny written upon your soul,” Percival explained with a wave of his hand.
“For ill?” Dais shook his head no, “like evil? Never, if I have a destiny, that destiny will be one serving the good.”
“Indeed, I did not mean to presume that you would do ill, just that the possibility exists as it does for every man. Indeed, your father would be proud. Even if he wished for you to serve your life as a simple farmer or soldier, the winds of destiny have called you to a loftier path, son of Hunder,” the wizard clasped his hand on Dais’ shoulder.
“Thank you Honored One.”
“I have a feeling we will have meet again, and I hope by then you have an answer to my earlier question,” Percival walked towards the door of the chamber, Dais following in his footsteps, “all men make choices, son of Hunder, it is those choices that determine the legacy we shall leave.”
“So what do you think, I mean it isn’t magical like your rapier, but it is finely crafted and of dwarf manufacture!” Dais marveled as he rested his hand on the pommel of his new masterwork blade.
Osan nodded his face shrouded by his large whicker conical hat. He could barely suppress a smile at his companion’s joy. But there was something in the air, a tingle of something vaguely familiar, something dark… something that hinted at the periphery of his conscious. The cold vacuum of evil, a familiar if nauseating sensation seemed to fill the large parlor.
“That was really nice of Captain Fletcher to give up his enchanted blade to you,” Dais gestured to Ayala as she paced about the room admiring the various artifacts about the room. The chamber was rectangular in shape and at the center was a fire pit, circled by smoothly cut stone dais. Divans and sofas circled the fire pit, and the roof of the structure was made of glass allowing light to naturally filter into the chamber, lighting the whole room. The heady smell of cinnamon incense filled the room and a cool breeze kept the room quite comfortable and pleasing. The ambient buzz of magic was readily apparent in the chamber.
“Why he had no use for it anymore, he is dead, and I am still very much apart of the living,” she replied with a generous smile.
“Well of course, but I mean, it is an honor, right?” the lowlander questioned.
“I doubt she sees it as an honor, Dais,” Osan interrupted, “by right the blade is hers, she claimed it. The privateer’s spirit has no claim to it, but it was a nice gesture, I will agree.”
“Okay,” Dais replies somewhat confused, but shrugs it off.
“Dais you worry about the stupidest things,” Ayala whispered dancing her fingers over his muscular shoulder, “and yes I do like your sword,” she said with a flick of her tongue.
Dais smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Thankfully the moment was interrupted by the doors to the large chamber opening, as a tall gaunt man with graying hair standing in the doorway. His steel gray eyes scanned the room in a casual glance as he walked into the chamber, his footsteps echoing off the marble floor as he walked into the room, a gray rat resting on his shoulder. Draped over his shoulders was a crimson cape, immaculately placed over his silken black shirt. A gold chain holding a red jewel, hung over his neck across his chest. His black trousers were equally fine and well made and were snugly worked into his polished boots, a delicate shine gleaming back at the trio.
The man bowed his head, spreading his palms in a show of faith, as he raised his head he spoke, “The Green Man bless your travels. Welcome Captain Celeste, I am pleased to see that you are well; I heard that your journey ran longer then expected. Was their trouble?”
“Not at all Percival, bad weather, and a green crew, but nothing I would clarify as trouble. But thankfully my competent First Mate,” she gestured to Dais, “learned quickly and was quite helpful in getting your cargo here intact.”
Percival turned his gaze to Dais, “Does this competent First Mate have a name?”
“Dais, son of Hunder of Ironwall, most honored one,” the young lowlander bowed.
“Honored one?” Ayala said aloud.
“He is a member of the Panthic Order, Captain,” Osan spoke from behind his obscuring wicker hat.
“Indeed I am,” Percival smiled at the tiefling’s comment, “I am a simple keeper of Lore and sage. Although I practice the art, my focus is that of knowledge and academics. But I ramble on about my own affairs. Dais, son of Hunder, child of Ironwall I am honored as well. Hunder’s exploits are well known to me.”
“You know my father?” Dais whispered in surprise.
“No, but I know of your father, of his exploits with the Griffon Company. He was the wielder of Light’s Fang, a powerful enchanted blade created to protect the lands of Anderland. I am surprised you did not know, lad,” the gentle wizard responded as he took a seat on a comfortable and plush divan.
“How do we even know that we are talking about the same Hunder?” Ayala rolled her eyes.
“Because this Hunder has two sons, Baile and Dais, and I am well acquainted with the elder of the two. He has made the quite name for himself in the north in the service of Griffon Company. I always wondered when the second son of this hero would set out on his own journey, and here he is before me. But it is no surprise that perhaps you do not know much of your father’s exploits. He retired from the Griffon Company years ago, and settled down outside of Ironwall last I had heard, trying to escape the legend he had become,” the wizard spoke.
“You seem to know much about my family, Honored One…”
“I am a student of history and lore, son of Hunder. I make it a point to study the great men and women of our age. Your father was a great man, and his legend whether he likes it or not, will live on. By that token I find it amusing that both of his son’s have taken up the sword and both seem bent on carving out their own names in the annals of history. But how shall the world remember you, son of Hunder? As a simple sword for hire, as a boy living in his father’s shadow, or as a legend?” Percival questioned.
“I don’t know…” Dais said weakly, “Why does it matter?”
“I see,” the wizard said sharply.
Ayala sighed, “Perhaps we can get down to business and speak of destiny another time, Percival?”
“Why of course,” the wizard’s eyes focused on Ayala, “what I promised I shall deliver with an extra bonus for your discretion.”
“That is much appreciated Percival, if you ever have need of a courier, remember that the Radical Dream is the swiftest ship on the sea. I hope to do business with you in the future, Honored One,” she bowed.
“I look forward to enlisting your services Captain Celeste, well then now that we have business settled, perhaps son of Hunder you could spare a moment to indulge me a few words?” Percival reclined on his divan making himself quite comfortable, as his rat scurried about on the floor.
He waved off Osan and Ayala, “I would prefer to speak to your first mate alone good Captain, my servants outside will pay you, as we have discussed. You are both excused.”
Ayala gave Osan a concerned look, but the stoic monk simply shrugged and walked to the door. Ayala opened her mouth for a moment and then just followed, giving a second glance over her shoulder to Dais as he watched his companions go, and then turned his attention to Percival.
Once the door closed behind Ayala, Percival spoke, “So tell me, how is your father these days, son of Hunder?”
“He is well Honored One, he spends his days in the fields working the land, as his father did before him, and his father did before him. He never seems to complain, despite the long and grueling hours he spends in the fields. Perhaps he wishes to escape the nagging of my mother,” he laughs weakly, “but he works hard, and worked my brother and I as well.”
“So the great Hunder has become a simple farmer, a far cry from the hero of the war of the Goblin Marches. His very name and sword struck fear into the hearts of the black creatures, and the giant skalds speak highly of his bloody campaigns against them. Despite being a hated foe, he earned their respect and many I believe still mourn that nary a hero has reached his status that would b worth facing in combat. Though your brother, Baile has gained in notoriety of late,” Percival replied smoothly.
“Aye, he has joined the Griffon Company,” Dais spoke in apparent reverence for his brother, “they say he is a terror to the forces of the Winter Wolf. I pray that the spirits of Anderland guide him to glory, if I am half the man my brother is, I will be happy.”
Percival rose in a smooth motion, “It seems you have not embraced your destiny, son of Hunder.”
“Destiny?”
“The winds of fate tug at the lowliest of things, some in gentle nudges, others with gale like force. Your bloodline is destined for great things; be it ill, or for good, you have the forces of destiny written upon your soul,” Percival explained with a wave of his hand.
“For ill?” Dais shook his head no, “like evil? Never, if I have a destiny, that destiny will be one serving the good.”
“Indeed, I did not mean to presume that you would do ill, just that the possibility exists as it does for every man. Indeed, your father would be proud. Even if he wished for you to serve your life as a simple farmer or soldier, the winds of destiny have called you to a loftier path, son of Hunder,” the wizard clasped his hand on Dais’ shoulder.
“Thank you Honored One.”
“I have a feeling we will have meet again, and I hope by then you have an answer to my earlier question,” Percival walked towards the door of the chamber, Dais following in his footsteps, “all men make choices, son of Hunder, it is those choices that determine the legacy we shall leave.”
