Trouvere
Explorer
Keldar wakes up with the sunrise. "Need more sleep," he complains to the crewmen on duty, yawning. "I'm sure I'd be a completely different man after a whole night of uninterrupted rest. Or - good morning, Rapture - something softer than the butt of the mast to lie against."
When not casting apparently keen glances across the lake in search of danger, Keldar goes through the pile of gear stripped from the pirates.
"These two were her blades," he says. "Very pretty. The swords, I mean. This one handles almost as easily as a dagger. Perhaps I'll hang onto it for a while." He straps the short sword to his side.
"And this is at least the equal of my own rapier... though don't let Tarag know I said so. Like the ship, it might be happier with a new owner. But it's not the Warbray rapier. What was it Tarag said? 'Be as one with it, arm, mind and spirit - 192 gold, thanks.' Dwarves! Poets one moment, businessmen the next."
Keldar sits with a rapier in each hand, points touching the deck. "She - well, I suppose she was pretty too." He glances at Rapture. "Though not as pretty as you, of course. And rotten to the core. Deranged, in the end. How do you suppose she ended up like that? Perhaps her men know her story. We should make sure we're there whenever they're untied to be fed and watered, in case of trouble, escape attempts, and the like. I confess I fell asleep without knowing on which boat everyone ended up."
When not casting apparently keen glances across the lake in search of danger, Keldar goes through the pile of gear stripped from the pirates.
"These two were her blades," he says. "Very pretty. The swords, I mean. This one handles almost as easily as a dagger. Perhaps I'll hang onto it for a while." He straps the short sword to his side.
"And this is at least the equal of my own rapier... though don't let Tarag know I said so. Like the ship, it might be happier with a new owner. But it's not the Warbray rapier. What was it Tarag said? 'Be as one with it, arm, mind and spirit - 192 gold, thanks.' Dwarves! Poets one moment, businessmen the next."
Keldar sits with a rapier in each hand, points touching the deck. "She - well, I suppose she was pretty too." He glances at Rapture. "Though not as pretty as you, of course. And rotten to the core. Deranged, in the end. How do you suppose she ended up like that? Perhaps her men know her story. We should make sure we're there whenever they're untied to be fed and watered, in case of trouble, escape attempts, and the like. I confess I fell asleep without knowing on which boat everyone ended up."