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L'Aurel's Journal (A Kingdom of Ashes) -updated 3/23
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<blockquote data-quote="Laurel" data-source="post: 1664045" data-attributes="member: 17067"><p><strong>Chapter One- “Shadows of the Past”</strong></p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Day One, Thanesport</span></em></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">The sun had long since said good-night to the land, and taken her warmth away from the people of Ares. With her departure the dark ashen clouds moved in, letting only slivers of the weak moon’s light through. I could not bring myself to yet end this day. I had stepped off the boat this very afternoon, and have just started to see the many people’s of Ares. I had stopped at the first tavern sign I saw. The faded paint and crudely drawn image let me guess this was the Rusty Scabbard. This is as good a place as any to pass my first night here in Thanesport, the largest port city on this side of the ringed continent. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">I peer around the darkened booths edge rotating my mug of now cool ale between my hands. It is easy to go unnoticed here, as everyone seems wrapped up in themselves or the fun that sits on their laps to care about a nobody. I have a face that can easily blend in with my surroundings with nothing strange or unique about it, or so I always thought. Though Michael often warned me that my eyes showed my soul. I had learned long ago how to hide my emotions deep, but apparently the truth always stood out in my eyes if one me at all. I often tried to trick Michael failing each time since he knew me as only a father could. I closed my eyes wondering why I was suddenly thinking these sad thoughts yet again, and that is when the gentle cords of a harp separated itself from the other noises.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">As I look around I see an elf bard playing on the dimly lit stage; her voice seems to rise above the rowdy yelling and cursing in a sweet melody of sadness. She is of the true alder blood with slightly pointed ears and pale skin shining in the torch light. I can make out some of the words, words of broken honor and broken spirit. It is a song of her true alder people and their disgrace. The song of my people as well.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Though most of the patrons are busy fighting their way to the next drink, fighting for the newest companion who walked in, or simply fighting just to fight; there is a small collection of men at what passes for tables by the foot of the stage. The men have made no attempt to hide their fascination with the exotic looking bard. A true alder male sits at one of those tables with a look of lust in his eyes. Her hazel eyes roam the room managing to look at all weather they look to her or not in turn. One man she has so captivated that he has a growing puddle of drool on his shirt. I look back to my still filled cup of ale, and sigh. I have no destination and no plan, and foolishly thought that by coming here I would find my path. It does no good to think about what can not be changed, and so I look around once more trying to find all the nuances that this strange mix of people can teach me. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">I can barely see the bartender now, but from watching him all day I know he still defends the bar. Though his smile is easy, his tightly coiled arms could easily crush any unrest in the room. He also seems easy with the coarse world his patrons are escaping from and easily drifts from customer to customer. The bar stools in front of him are jammed with a variety of patrons and an ever changing crush of pushing people behind them. I see a young maid approach my table yet again. I have only to look up and shake my head, for her to snarl. Her smile is back in place before she turns to the nearest male though. I have already paid for room and drink which is not a certainty for most here, so I have also secured the privilege of being left alone. All the serving girls seem to have problems keeping her shirt up, though a few quick stitches could easily solve their problems. They seem content to let it hang dangerously low. Michael never told me this side of people’s natures, but the abbess at the Amastatian temple had. Ripples appear in the surface of the black tepid liquid, and I see distorted green eyes shining bright looking back at me. Michael. His loss still feels like a wound not completely healed. Forcing my self to continue perusing the tavern, I search and look. Searching for my future and looking for knowledge.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">At one end of the bar a little man is perched on a stool, well it can only be assumed that inside all the burnt red hair, under axe, armor, hammer, and other bags there is a man there. No, as the crowd shifts I see upon closer inspection, it is not a man for his feet only reach the top ring of the stool and his arm is completely straight. This must be one of those dwarf creatures Michael told me of. I see the dwarf again bring the spotted mug to his lips with a deliberateness that tells me he is trying to hide his drunkenness. He lowers it and pushes it away from him, but as with the other times his head rolls forward and his fingers wrap around the curved metal surface. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">As my gaze wanders further down the bar, I see more of the same males and females almost blurring through my vision now. Till I see a figure with light greenish skin standing a head taller then most around him with tusks patruding from his mouth. There is no mistaking him to be an orc, Michael described them aptly. Though he had always said they were tall creatures and Michael was no short man being about 6’3” himself. I wonder how this orc could have ended up here in this bar, though from the looks of it he could use more clothes. There seems to be a lot of green showing through the crowds as people stay our of his way.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">My ears alert me to a change in the room, and with a deep sadness the curses and harsh laughter grows louder as the bard’s last note fades into the thick damp air. Before the bard finishes retuning her harp, the crash of the door and the howl of the wind is heard again. My mug adds a new dent to the already pocketed tabe top as I gasp in horror. A tall True Alder stumbles into the tavern clutching her side. It is easy to see the red blood pouring from between her midnight black fingers, and she has twice as much blood covering her first Talon uniform. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Michael’s training kicks in immediately, as I search the doorway for whatever had caused this damage, and I run through my head all that I know of her just by a glance. The first Talon are the King’s personal guards highly trained warriors, and some say so dedicated they would kill their mother if the king ordered it. The danger must be great if some attacked her, and that something is skilled to injure this much. As most of the patrons just stare shocked into silence, a young blonde woman wearing the seal of the Apectin order on her blue cape walks quickly to help the dying woman. The Apectin paladin’s action spurs me to move to their side, as I have a little knowledge of healing. The paladin though maybe barely 20 years of age shows experience with wounds, death, and blood. She glances at the wound but taking the woman face in her hands tries to get her to stay conscience and focused by asking her what happened. I try to move her hand away to see the wound, but am stopped as the talon speaks. The talon's whispers, “I am a private royal guard and my ship… my ship- set a-fire by pirates.. It’s moving to the port. I…I must stop it!” She struggles to breathe in and on the exhale all her tension and worries disappear from her body. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">The paladin looks at me shaking her head. Here I wished for adventure, yet death seems to be following me. I try to fade back into the crowd. As her head slumps to one side a pale blue star is apparent over her left eye. The crowd pushes back against the walls trying to escape even the sight of the mark. The bluestar, once a hero known as Aregonn, is trapped in a dead wastland to the north after his lost battle for power. He is held by a magical wall in a land filled with his hate and his evil. He should not be able to touch this land or out lives. Michael had always spoken of him as a distant evil, like a cloud storm cloud far on the horizon. What if all she said was a lie. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">I turn to the window by my side, and through the fogged glass I can see only an orange glow, but it is definitely moving swiftly, and in the direction of the harbor. At the paladin’s plea for help to get the woman help, the short orc moves to her side. Without comment he slides his large arms around the limp figure and effortlessly lifts her. The member of the Apectin order follows closely behind the orc, and the true Alder who I saw earlier watching the bard is close on their heels trying to help the orc with his load. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">It is then that I notice a wave of silence descending on the room, even the bards notes quietly dissipate. All eyes stare at the figure of a man in the entry way. His eyes slowly survey the crowd, while they seem to measure him up. He carries an ornate long sword at his side that are rare and only given to those in the service of the King’s naval command. His clothes speak differently though, as he has on what looks to be common battle worn sea garb. He almost whispers, “I saw the talon’s ship set upon by a large ship made of bone and crewed by the dead and damned. I came directly from the docks to warn the authorities, but it seems she had alerted them already.” A man hidden by the crowd yells, “No, that can not be, sir, her ship… her ship was to carry the Leigeblade, the last of the falcon blades! It was to rest in Caer Albion close at hand to King Hawkson I!” He smirks at the hysterics the little mans words bring, and after a pause, “It is true I fear, or do you doubt John Darkson?” The feeling of fear grows within the room, “No… No this can not be!” The small dirty man looks around with huge freighted eyes. He screams “NO!” and charges out the door. The hysteria flows on into the others in the room, and soon chaos has erupted all around. The young Apectin warrior looks at the fleeing people in disgust, and looking to the orc motions him to follow her. Closely behind the orc is the only fair true alder I have seen who earlier was watching the bard he now is trying to shout above the crowd to orc and young woman that he knows where a healer is. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">As I turn back from the doorway, I see everyone rushing to the exits, yet the casualness of one man catches my eye, it is the form of John Darkson. This whole event seems surreal; pirates have not been seen in years as they are hunted by the king. The king’s personal barge on fire and floating into the port with no warning being sounded by the guards, and then I know what I must do is find the guard to rise the alarm. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Once out the door, I follow a group heading in the direction of the naval barracks. I notice a streak of pale skin as the singer from the bar runs a block ahead of me. When I round a corner by the water I see the bard striking a blow at a slimy scaly bi-pedal lizard like creature with a spear. With ease she spikes him straight through; above her head the night sky is getting brighter with a deadly red-orange glow. I reach her side as she withdraws the spear, and with little more than a nod we run toward the river. Strangely we see figures in the Talon guard’s uniform climbing from the water. Their bodies marked with blood and the stench of death. As they enter the light of a passing building, their faces shine a pasty white with flaying flesh and missing parts. Their eyes are unseeing as they grope and jerkily walk toward us. What has cursed these souls? I raise my bow loosing arrows as we run. I try to note what spots seem to make these unholy things of death stumble or fall quickest.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Looking into the sky we see a large pike fly from a docked boat into the river. As we reach the deserted wharf I quickly scan the area. The Talon’s ship unhampered is sailing straight for the main docks though a rope across the harbor in another ships mast. That must have been the bolt we saw earlier. The dwarf from the bar looking more spry now sprints up the ramp of one ship. Not seeing any other option I follow him, I hear a man yell from one of the other ships, “Fire at the ship. Try to sink it.” The Apectin warrior back pressed against the wooden base is trying to maneuver it into position. The bard swiftly moves to her side placing hands on the rear and digging her feet into the wood pushes. I follow the dwarf and with a few grunts we have ours is pointing the correct direction. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">After only one shot we see the ship tilt and then darken as water rushes through it’s haul extinguishing the flames as it slowly sinks into the water. Before too much celebrating can happen, the sound of feet pounding on the wooden ladder can be heard behind us. Swiveling I see a line of guards pointing steel drakes at the four of us. I can see the others who tried to stop the ship are similarly trapped. The guard tells us to show our hands. Once we have complied we are rounded up and made to follow him. The fair alder who helped with the talon at the bar identifies himself as Brad. Another figure slinking in the shadows that seemed to escape my notice till this moment, tries to tell the guards that we were just trying to stop the ship from burning the city down. They scoff at the tale and in close formation escort us to a jail in the center of the city. We are all luckily placed in the same cell without restraining implements. This must be a sign they are not completely convinced of our guilt. We are each wary of the others, not knowing what fate holds. Brad shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot starts talking into the silence of the cell. It does not seem to hurt anything and we may be stuck here for a while. Thus I learned the short muscular dwarf was called Arfin Kegsplitter, the pale beauty of the Apectin order goes by Justice Fairweather, the simple orc who is little taller then me is called Kareth of One Oak, the true alder bard from the tavern is named Selura Nightshade, the male who seems to dislike silence is Brad, and the shadowy alder in the corner crisply declared himself Edriss Kiva.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">After the initial greetings a silence descended among us once again. It was not long before Brad started to chat again trying to draw us out. Though soon it seemed Justice and Brad both wanted to lead the cell and both started proposing possible stories, theories, escape plans, and other ideas. Luckily the captain of the guard came in before anything beyond words could be exchanged. My hopes of an easy release dimmed as he started to ask us questions instead of just letting us go. Justice and Brad were eager to both tell the captain everything that happened starting at the tavern, and an unspoken agreement seemed to have been made as both spun stories of the truth. The captain motions to one of his underlings, who was guarding the door, but now leans toward the captain as he whispers in his ear. Looking back toward us the captain waves his hand dismissing the guard, and without a sound nods for Justice to continue. At the end of the tale, the captain looks at us blankly giving us each a turn under his piercing stare. He tells us simply that there are things he has to confirm and turning his back leaves the windowless room. I can not shake the feeling of unease that presses into my bones, but I can control the fear of being locked in a room surrounded by stone and metal.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">A few moments later the lock jingled as heavy metal keys twisted the lock open. The captain wears his now usual emotionless mask as he walks into the room, but it is not him that arrests our attention. Instead all eyes focus on the broad figure behind him. John Darkson from the Rusty Tavern, though it seems he has had time to clean up and wears a more tailors outfit. As he looks around the room with a malicious smile on his face, I dart my glance to the others looking for some guidance of action. </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Justice is the first to act springing from her seated position ready to strike, but balling her slim fingers into a fist chooses instead to fight with words. In a voice shaking with violence she telling the captain not to trust him. The captain for the first time shows emotion, and we quickly see the mistake as his face contorts with anger, “You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, as that man just vouched for your actions. He is also a close trusted friend of mine and the king. Since he has vouched for you already though, you may be spared your lives- if you accept to do something for the kingdom.” </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">Arfin lifts his head from the cradle of his hands for the first time since being placed here, and with a throat in need of drink asks, “What is the reward?” The captain returned to his impassive face seems unfazed by this request, and simply answers, “What is the happiest thing that could happen?” Brad immediately replies with a smile of satisfaction, “A nice field of flowers filled with buckets of money.” The captain closes the two strides to Brad, and though looking up into Brad’s eyes, declares, “Then it will definitely not be that.” Turn his gaze to all of us he states, “Your reward is the chance at living.” </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="color: lemonchiffon">I have not taken my first step only to be stopped here, and this may lead to other opportunities, or maybe even some more honorable and more distinguishing tasks for king and kingdom. As the captains eyes finally fall on me I nod my head silently in agreement of the deal. He starts to turn away then seems to remember our task, “Follow young Rhynn here. He will give you your assignment. If you do not return in three days and report back to me you will be hunted outlaws.” Then putting his hand on Darkson’s shoulder leaves our prison cell not closing the solid metal door behind him.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Laurel, post: 1664045, member: 17067"] [b]Chapter One- “Shadows of the Past”[/b] [i][color=lemonchiffon]Day One, Thanesport[/color][/i] [color=lemonchiffon]The sun had long since said good-night to the land, and taken her warmth away from the people of Ares. With her departure the dark ashen clouds moved in, letting only slivers of the weak moon’s light through. I could not bring myself to yet end this day. I had stepped off the boat this very afternoon, and have just started to see the many people’s of Ares. I had stopped at the first tavern sign I saw. The faded paint and crudely drawn image let me guess this was the Rusty Scabbard. This is as good a place as any to pass my first night here in Thanesport, the largest port city on this side of the ringed continent. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]I peer around the darkened booths edge rotating my mug of now cool ale between my hands. It is easy to go unnoticed here, as everyone seems wrapped up in themselves or the fun that sits on their laps to care about a nobody. I have a face that can easily blend in with my surroundings with nothing strange or unique about it, or so I always thought. Though Michael often warned me that my eyes showed my soul. I had learned long ago how to hide my emotions deep, but apparently the truth always stood out in my eyes if one me at all. I often tried to trick Michael failing each time since he knew me as only a father could. I closed my eyes wondering why I was suddenly thinking these sad thoughts yet again, and that is when the gentle cords of a harp separated itself from the other noises.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]As I look around I see an elf bard playing on the dimly lit stage; her voice seems to rise above the rowdy yelling and cursing in a sweet melody of sadness. She is of the true alder blood with slightly pointed ears and pale skin shining in the torch light. I can make out some of the words, words of broken honor and broken spirit. It is a song of her true alder people and their disgrace. The song of my people as well.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Though most of the patrons are busy fighting their way to the next drink, fighting for the newest companion who walked in, or simply fighting just to fight; there is a small collection of men at what passes for tables by the foot of the stage. The men have made no attempt to hide their fascination with the exotic looking bard. A true alder male sits at one of those tables with a look of lust in his eyes. Her hazel eyes roam the room managing to look at all weather they look to her or not in turn. One man she has so captivated that he has a growing puddle of drool on his shirt. I look back to my still filled cup of ale, and sigh. I have no destination and no plan, and foolishly thought that by coming here I would find my path. It does no good to think about what can not be changed, and so I look around once more trying to find all the nuances that this strange mix of people can teach me. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]I can barely see the bartender now, but from watching him all day I know he still defends the bar. Though his smile is easy, his tightly coiled arms could easily crush any unrest in the room. He also seems easy with the coarse world his patrons are escaping from and easily drifts from customer to customer. The bar stools in front of him are jammed with a variety of patrons and an ever changing crush of pushing people behind them. I see a young maid approach my table yet again. I have only to look up and shake my head, for her to snarl. Her smile is back in place before she turns to the nearest male though. I have already paid for room and drink which is not a certainty for most here, so I have also secured the privilege of being left alone. All the serving girls seem to have problems keeping her shirt up, though a few quick stitches could easily solve their problems. They seem content to let it hang dangerously low. Michael never told me this side of people’s natures, but the abbess at the Amastatian temple had. Ripples appear in the surface of the black tepid liquid, and I see distorted green eyes shining bright looking back at me. Michael. His loss still feels like a wound not completely healed. Forcing my self to continue perusing the tavern, I search and look. Searching for my future and looking for knowledge.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]At one end of the bar a little man is perched on a stool, well it can only be assumed that inside all the burnt red hair, under axe, armor, hammer, and other bags there is a man there. No, as the crowd shifts I see upon closer inspection, it is not a man for his feet only reach the top ring of the stool and his arm is completely straight. This must be one of those dwarf creatures Michael told me of. I see the dwarf again bring the spotted mug to his lips with a deliberateness that tells me he is trying to hide his drunkenness. He lowers it and pushes it away from him, but as with the other times his head rolls forward and his fingers wrap around the curved metal surface. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]As my gaze wanders further down the bar, I see more of the same males and females almost blurring through my vision now. Till I see a figure with light greenish skin standing a head taller then most around him with tusks patruding from his mouth. There is no mistaking him to be an orc, Michael described them aptly. Though he had always said they were tall creatures and Michael was no short man being about 6’3” himself. I wonder how this orc could have ended up here in this bar, though from the looks of it he could use more clothes. There seems to be a lot of green showing through the crowds as people stay our of his way.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]My ears alert me to a change in the room, and with a deep sadness the curses and harsh laughter grows louder as the bard’s last note fades into the thick damp air. Before the bard finishes retuning her harp, the crash of the door and the howl of the wind is heard again. My mug adds a new dent to the already pocketed tabe top as I gasp in horror. A tall True Alder stumbles into the tavern clutching her side. It is easy to see the red blood pouring from between her midnight black fingers, and she has twice as much blood covering her first Talon uniform. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Michael’s training kicks in immediately, as I search the doorway for whatever had caused this damage, and I run through my head all that I know of her just by a glance. The first Talon are the King’s personal guards highly trained warriors, and some say so dedicated they would kill their mother if the king ordered it. The danger must be great if some attacked her, and that something is skilled to injure this much. As most of the patrons just stare shocked into silence, a young blonde woman wearing the seal of the Apectin order on her blue cape walks quickly to help the dying woman. The Apectin paladin’s action spurs me to move to their side, as I have a little knowledge of healing. The paladin though maybe barely 20 years of age shows experience with wounds, death, and blood. She glances at the wound but taking the woman face in her hands tries to get her to stay conscience and focused by asking her what happened. I try to move her hand away to see the wound, but am stopped as the talon speaks. The talon's whispers, “I am a private royal guard and my ship… my ship- set a-fire by pirates.. It’s moving to the port. I…I must stop it!” She struggles to breathe in and on the exhale all her tension and worries disappear from her body. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]The paladin looks at me shaking her head. Here I wished for adventure, yet death seems to be following me. I try to fade back into the crowd. As her head slumps to one side a pale blue star is apparent over her left eye. The crowd pushes back against the walls trying to escape even the sight of the mark. The bluestar, once a hero known as Aregonn, is trapped in a dead wastland to the north after his lost battle for power. He is held by a magical wall in a land filled with his hate and his evil. He should not be able to touch this land or out lives. Michael had always spoken of him as a distant evil, like a cloud storm cloud far on the horizon. What if all she said was a lie. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]I turn to the window by my side, and through the fogged glass I can see only an orange glow, but it is definitely moving swiftly, and in the direction of the harbor. At the paladin’s plea for help to get the woman help, the short orc moves to her side. Without comment he slides his large arms around the limp figure and effortlessly lifts her. The member of the Apectin order follows closely behind the orc, and the true Alder who I saw earlier watching the bard is close on their heels trying to help the orc with his load. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]It is then that I notice a wave of silence descending on the room, even the bards notes quietly dissipate. All eyes stare at the figure of a man in the entry way. His eyes slowly survey the crowd, while they seem to measure him up. He carries an ornate long sword at his side that are rare and only given to those in the service of the King’s naval command. His clothes speak differently though, as he has on what looks to be common battle worn sea garb. He almost whispers, “I saw the talon’s ship set upon by a large ship made of bone and crewed by the dead and damned. I came directly from the docks to warn the authorities, but it seems she had alerted them already.” A man hidden by the crowd yells, “No, that can not be, sir, her ship… her ship was to carry the Leigeblade, the last of the falcon blades! It was to rest in Caer Albion close at hand to King Hawkson I!” He smirks at the hysterics the little mans words bring, and after a pause, “It is true I fear, or do you doubt John Darkson?” The feeling of fear grows within the room, “No… No this can not be!” The small dirty man looks around with huge freighted eyes. He screams “NO!” and charges out the door. The hysteria flows on into the others in the room, and soon chaos has erupted all around. The young Apectin warrior looks at the fleeing people in disgust, and looking to the orc motions him to follow her. Closely behind the orc is the only fair true alder I have seen who earlier was watching the bard he now is trying to shout above the crowd to orc and young woman that he knows where a healer is. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]As I turn back from the doorway, I see everyone rushing to the exits, yet the casualness of one man catches my eye, it is the form of John Darkson. This whole event seems surreal; pirates have not been seen in years as they are hunted by the king. The king’s personal barge on fire and floating into the port with no warning being sounded by the guards, and then I know what I must do is find the guard to rise the alarm. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Once out the door, I follow a group heading in the direction of the naval barracks. I notice a streak of pale skin as the singer from the bar runs a block ahead of me. When I round a corner by the water I see the bard striking a blow at a slimy scaly bi-pedal lizard like creature with a spear. With ease she spikes him straight through; above her head the night sky is getting brighter with a deadly red-orange glow. I reach her side as she withdraws the spear, and with little more than a nod we run toward the river. Strangely we see figures in the Talon guard’s uniform climbing from the water. Their bodies marked with blood and the stench of death. As they enter the light of a passing building, their faces shine a pasty white with flaying flesh and missing parts. Their eyes are unseeing as they grope and jerkily walk toward us. What has cursed these souls? I raise my bow loosing arrows as we run. I try to note what spots seem to make these unholy things of death stumble or fall quickest.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Looking into the sky we see a large pike fly from a docked boat into the river. As we reach the deserted wharf I quickly scan the area. The Talon’s ship unhampered is sailing straight for the main docks though a rope across the harbor in another ships mast. That must have been the bolt we saw earlier. The dwarf from the bar looking more spry now sprints up the ramp of one ship. Not seeing any other option I follow him, I hear a man yell from one of the other ships, “Fire at the ship. Try to sink it.” The Apectin warrior back pressed against the wooden base is trying to maneuver it into position. The bard swiftly moves to her side placing hands on the rear and digging her feet into the wood pushes. I follow the dwarf and with a few grunts we have ours is pointing the correct direction. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]After only one shot we see the ship tilt and then darken as water rushes through it’s haul extinguishing the flames as it slowly sinks into the water. Before too much celebrating can happen, the sound of feet pounding on the wooden ladder can be heard behind us. Swiveling I see a line of guards pointing steel drakes at the four of us. I can see the others who tried to stop the ship are similarly trapped. The guard tells us to show our hands. Once we have complied we are rounded up and made to follow him. The fair alder who helped with the talon at the bar identifies himself as Brad. Another figure slinking in the shadows that seemed to escape my notice till this moment, tries to tell the guards that we were just trying to stop the ship from burning the city down. They scoff at the tale and in close formation escort us to a jail in the center of the city. We are all luckily placed in the same cell without restraining implements. This must be a sign they are not completely convinced of our guilt. We are each wary of the others, not knowing what fate holds. Brad shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot starts talking into the silence of the cell. It does not seem to hurt anything and we may be stuck here for a while. Thus I learned the short muscular dwarf was called Arfin Kegsplitter, the pale beauty of the Apectin order goes by Justice Fairweather, the simple orc who is little taller then me is called Kareth of One Oak, the true alder bard from the tavern is named Selura Nightshade, the male who seems to dislike silence is Brad, and the shadowy alder in the corner crisply declared himself Edriss Kiva.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]After the initial greetings a silence descended among us once again. It was not long before Brad started to chat again trying to draw us out. Though soon it seemed Justice and Brad both wanted to lead the cell and both started proposing possible stories, theories, escape plans, and other ideas. Luckily the captain of the guard came in before anything beyond words could be exchanged. My hopes of an easy release dimmed as he started to ask us questions instead of just letting us go. Justice and Brad were eager to both tell the captain everything that happened starting at the tavern, and an unspoken agreement seemed to have been made as both spun stories of the truth. The captain motions to one of his underlings, who was guarding the door, but now leans toward the captain as he whispers in his ear. Looking back toward us the captain waves his hand dismissing the guard, and without a sound nods for Justice to continue. At the end of the tale, the captain looks at us blankly giving us each a turn under his piercing stare. He tells us simply that there are things he has to confirm and turning his back leaves the windowless room. I can not shake the feeling of unease that presses into my bones, but I can control the fear of being locked in a room surrounded by stone and metal.[/color] [color=lemonchiffon]A few moments later the lock jingled as heavy metal keys twisted the lock open. The captain wears his now usual emotionless mask as he walks into the room, but it is not him that arrests our attention. Instead all eyes focus on the broad figure behind him. John Darkson from the Rusty Tavern, though it seems he has had time to clean up and wears a more tailors outfit. As he looks around the room with a malicious smile on his face, I dart my glance to the others looking for some guidance of action. [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Justice is the first to act springing from her seated position ready to strike, but balling her slim fingers into a fist chooses instead to fight with words. In a voice shaking with violence she telling the captain not to trust him. The captain for the first time shows emotion, and we quickly see the mistake as his face contorts with anger, “You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, as that man just vouched for your actions. He is also a close trusted friend of mine and the king. Since he has vouched for you already though, you may be spared your lives- if you accept to do something for the kingdom.” [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]Arfin lifts his head from the cradle of his hands for the first time since being placed here, and with a throat in need of drink asks, “What is the reward?” The captain returned to his impassive face seems unfazed by this request, and simply answers, “What is the happiest thing that could happen?” Brad immediately replies with a smile of satisfaction, “A nice field of flowers filled with buckets of money.” The captain closes the two strides to Brad, and though looking up into Brad’s eyes, declares, “Then it will definitely not be that.” Turn his gaze to all of us he states, “Your reward is the chance at living.” [/color] [color=lemonchiffon]I have not taken my first step only to be stopped here, and this may lead to other opportunities, or maybe even some more honorable and more distinguishing tasks for king and kingdom. As the captains eyes finally fall on me I nod my head silently in agreement of the deal. He starts to turn away then seems to remember our task, “Follow young Rhynn here. He will give you your assignment. If you do not return in three days and report back to me you will be hunted outlaws.” Then putting his hand on Darkson’s shoulder leaves our prison cell not closing the solid metal door behind him.[/color] [/QUOTE]
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L'Aurel's Journal (A Kingdom of Ashes) -updated 3/23
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