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drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance
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<blockquote data-quote="drnuncheon" data-source="post: 499875" data-attributes="member: 96"><p><strong>Session Thirteen, Part Two: Chains</strong></p><p></p><p>"Those <em>b-st-ards</em>. Di'Fier? Are you still breathing?"</p><p></p><p>A weak groan. "I must be. I can smell it in here."</p><p></p><p>Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the near-total darkness, picking out the others in a similar predicament. Gnomes, humans, a half-elf...a young halfling...a dozen other people all told.</p><p></p><p>Di'Fier shifted, tugged on the manacles, inspecting them with his fingers - they had been hammered into place around his wrists, not locked, and that suggested that they would not be released anytime soon. "At least they're not making us row." His attempt at humor sounded small indeed in the darkness of the hold.</p><p></p><p>The sturdy man next to Di'Fier leaned closer. He stank of horses, even over the smell in the hold. "Did she say you were Di'Fier? The watchman?" At the mage's nod, he asked hopefully, "Were you trying to find us? I'm Volodya," he added. "The horse trainer."</p><p></p><p>"I'm afraid not. If the Watch had known about a slaving ring operating in Freeport they'd have shut us down before we left harbor. They are slavers, aren't they?"</p><p></p><p>Volodya snorted, nodding towards another of the prisoners. "Ask him. He works for them."</p><p></p><p>"Used to," came the growled response. "Don't forget, it was me complaining about the ill treatment you lot got that got me thrown down here with you."</p><p></p><p>A third man spoke up: slender, fair, and with the accent of the mainland. "They are not only slavers, they are worshipers of Vepar." When that brought no response, he added, "The 'Master of Angry Waters'. A demon prince."</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Dru studied the blonde form beside the sailor. Curled into a fetal ball, the elven woman had not acknowledged their presence in the slightest. Leaning towards the old woman chained next to her, she asked, "Is she all right?"</p><p></p><p>The woman nodded. "She tried to escape. Slipped the manacles when we were sailing into the harbor and made a run for it. They caught her, beat her."</p><p></p><p>Wood slammed on wood as the hatchway was thrown open, and a pair of well-shined, gold-buckled boots began to descend the steep stairs. The boots gave way to black velvet breeches and a sheathed rapier - one that had belonged to Dru only a day ago. Above the breeches, a doublet of vivid scarlet, a weathered face with goatee and sweeping mustachio, and a black hat bearing a plume to match the doublet.</p><p></p><p>Behind him strode a tall woman in black leather, a pair of golden dice hanging about her neck and a coiled whip at her side. Her sneer matched her companion's as she looked over the chained prisoners.</p><p></p><p>"Well, well," began the man. "This one sees that the new arrivals have awakened. At least, one of them has." His eyes alighted on Di'Fier, who had taken the man's entrance as a signal to play unconscious. "Aslia...bestir him."</p><p></p><p>The crack of the whip echoed from the wooden hull of the ship, and a line of red appeared on the mage's cheek. Di'Fier pushed himself into a sitting position with a glare of anger.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, so much better. Welcome to your new home - for the next few weeks, that is. We're bound for the Caliphates, where you will no doubt spend the rest of your lives wishing you had nothing better to do than enjoy a restful sea journey." He gave the Watchmen a bright smile. "And if you're thinking about escaping...this one's brother has a patron who is always in need of a fresh sacrifice."</p><p></p><p>The captain - or so they assumed - and the whip-wielding woman departed up the stairs, and the hold was plunged into darkness again by the closing of the hatch.</p><p></p><p>"Right," said Dru. "We're getting out of here. I can't stay here with that pompous windbag carrying <em>my</em> rapier and having my partner whipped. When I found out who put him up to this, I'm going to go back to Freeport and strew their limbs across the city. Hey, sailor."</p><p></p><p>"Jethis."</p><p></p><p>"Jethis, then. Wake up the elf."</p><p></p><p>The chain creaked as he reached for her, thought better of it, and leaned in close to speak. Dru watched as the elf slowly uncurled, painfully, revealing a face that was a mass of cuts and bruises.</p><p></p><p>Switching to her native tongue, she asked, "<em>Do you want to get revenge?</em>"</p><p></p><p>The other elf's eyes glittered. "<em>If I died finding vengeance, I would die happy.</em>"</p><p></p><p>Dru smiled.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /></p><p></p><p>They were fourteen, all told, from Freeport and the mainland: Volodya, a trainer of horses. Unn, the ancient herbalist. Jethis, the only sailor of the lot. Jim, a young halfling lad from Freeport who had chosen the wrong ship to run away to sea on. Illugi, Fatima, and Geirstein, mercenaries. Namfoodle and Fonkin, gnomish herders. Kolya, a leatherworker. Then the elf, Shesara Nareshnae, a bard, and Benares, the fair man who seemed to know so much about their captor's patron. A scholar, he called himself.</p><p></p><p><em>Not the crew I would have chosen to break out of a slave ship,</em> Dru thought. <em>Still, you make do with what you have. It's strange, though - if they were sent by the Dragon's Claw, why didn't they know Di'Fier was a wizard?</em></p><p></p><p>The wizard in question had used his magic to narrow his hands, slipping free of the manacles, and was just moving towards Dru when the hatchway flew open once again, and three men came thundering down: two sailors with drawn cutlasses, and, against all logic, a figure clad in blackened plate, spikes jutting from its surface.</p><p></p><p><em>Where did they <u>get</u> these guys?</em> Di'Fier thought.</p><p></p><p>The armored man's voice echoed hollowly in the helm. "Who was casting spells?"</p><p></p><p>Di'Fier looked at where he'd been chained, then shrugged. "That would be...me."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="drnuncheon, post: 499875, member: 96"] [b]Session Thirteen, Part Two: Chains[/b] "Those [i]b-st-ards[/i]. Di'Fier? Are you still breathing?" A weak groan. "I must be. I can smell it in here." Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the near-total darkness, picking out the others in a similar predicament. Gnomes, humans, a half-elf...a young halfling...a dozen other people all told. Di'Fier shifted, tugged on the manacles, inspecting them with his fingers - they had been hammered into place around his wrists, not locked, and that suggested that they would not be released anytime soon. "At least they're not making us row." His attempt at humor sounded small indeed in the darkness of the hold. The sturdy man next to Di'Fier leaned closer. He stank of horses, even over the smell in the hold. "Did she say you were Di'Fier? The watchman?" At the mage's nod, he asked hopefully, "Were you trying to find us? I'm Volodya," he added. "The horse trainer." "I'm afraid not. If the Watch had known about a slaving ring operating in Freeport they'd have shut us down before we left harbor. They are slavers, aren't they?" Volodya snorted, nodding towards another of the prisoners. "Ask him. He works for them." "Used to," came the growled response. "Don't forget, it was me complaining about the ill treatment you lot got that got me thrown down here with you." A third man spoke up: slender, fair, and with the accent of the mainland. "They are not only slavers, they are worshipers of Vepar." When that brought no response, he added, "The 'Master of Angry Waters'. A demon prince." Meanwhile, Dru studied the blonde form beside the sailor. Curled into a fetal ball, the elven woman had not acknowledged their presence in the slightest. Leaning towards the old woman chained next to her, she asked, "Is she all right?" The woman nodded. "She tried to escape. Slipped the manacles when we were sailing into the harbor and made a run for it. They caught her, beat her." Wood slammed on wood as the hatchway was thrown open, and a pair of well-shined, gold-buckled boots began to descend the steep stairs. The boots gave way to black velvet breeches and a sheathed rapier - one that had belonged to Dru only a day ago. Above the breeches, a doublet of vivid scarlet, a weathered face with goatee and sweeping mustachio, and a black hat bearing a plume to match the doublet. Behind him strode a tall woman in black leather, a pair of golden dice hanging about her neck and a coiled whip at her side. Her sneer matched her companion's as she looked over the chained prisoners. "Well, well," began the man. "This one sees that the new arrivals have awakened. At least, one of them has." His eyes alighted on Di'Fier, who had taken the man's entrance as a signal to play unconscious. "Aslia...bestir him." The crack of the whip echoed from the wooden hull of the ship, and a line of red appeared on the mage's cheek. Di'Fier pushed himself into a sitting position with a glare of anger. "Ah, so much better. Welcome to your new home - for the next few weeks, that is. We're bound for the Caliphates, where you will no doubt spend the rest of your lives wishing you had nothing better to do than enjoy a restful sea journey." He gave the Watchmen a bright smile. "And if you're thinking about escaping...this one's brother has a patron who is always in need of a fresh sacrifice." The captain - or so they assumed - and the whip-wielding woman departed up the stairs, and the hold was plunged into darkness again by the closing of the hatch. "Right," said Dru. "We're getting out of here. I can't stay here with that pompous windbag carrying [i]my[/i] rapier and having my partner whipped. When I found out who put him up to this, I'm going to go back to Freeport and strew their limbs across the city. Hey, sailor." "Jethis." "Jethis, then. Wake up the elf." The chain creaked as he reached for her, thought better of it, and leaned in close to speak. Dru watched as the elf slowly uncurled, painfully, revealing a face that was a mass of cuts and bruises. Switching to her native tongue, she asked, "[i]Do you want to get revenge?[/i]" The other elf's eyes glittered. "[i]If I died finding vengeance, I would die happy.[/i]" Dru smiled. [img]http://www.io.com/~jeffj/b2sep.gif[/img] They were fourteen, all told, from Freeport and the mainland: Volodya, a trainer of horses. Unn, the ancient herbalist. Jethis, the only sailor of the lot. Jim, a young halfling lad from Freeport who had chosen the wrong ship to run away to sea on. Illugi, Fatima, and Geirstein, mercenaries. Namfoodle and Fonkin, gnomish herders. Kolya, a leatherworker. Then the elf, Shesara Nareshnae, a bard, and Benares, the fair man who seemed to know so much about their captor's patron. A scholar, he called himself. [i]Not the crew I would have chosen to break out of a slave ship,[/i] Dru thought. [i]Still, you make do with what you have. It's strange, though - if they were sent by the Dragon's Claw, why didn't they know Di'Fier was a wizard?[/i] The wizard in question had used his magic to narrow his hands, slipping free of the manacles, and was just moving towards Dru when the hatchway flew open once again, and three men came thundering down: two sailors with drawn cutlasses, and, against all logic, a figure clad in blackened plate, spikes jutting from its surface. [i]Where did they [u]get[/u] these guys?[/i] Di'Fier thought. The armored man's voice echoed hollowly in the helm. "Who was casting spells?" Di'Fier looked at where he'd been chained, then shrugged. "That would be...me." [/QUOTE]
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