Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="nonamazing" data-source="post: 1947969" data-attributes="member: 12118">InterludesBarandurr - [SBLOCK]You've been drinking again, and by now most of Gravan's crew knows to avoid you when you're drunk.  At first, you were easily able to convince one or more of the salty sailors to avoid their duties and drink with you instead.  In this way you were able to recreate some of the comraderie and life of a dwarven gathering, always full of good ale and loudly sung tunes.  But the crewmembers quickly discovered that they didn't have nearly your tolerance for the dwarven brew--most would leave your presence wobbling and slightly ill after only a dozen or so drinks.  And because you had made it clear not drinking with you would have been an insult most grevious, the crew wisely began to steer clear of your drinking games, claiming the importance of their work.(It is a bit of irony, in fact, that this helped insure the ship travelled so safely through the maze of ice--so many of Gravan's sailor were actually working, in order to have a valid excuse to avoid more dwarven ale forced at them, instead of goofing off, which they might have been inclined to do if Barandurr were not on board.  So by his reckless drinking, it's quite probable that Barandurr saved the lives of everyone on the ship, though he'd never know that.)One evening, a few days before the ship was to reach its terminal point (that is, the point in which the ice would become to thick to sail through), you found yourself stumbling through the lowermost decks, only slightly drunk, looking for a drinking partner.  You quickly came to realize that the crew were nowhere to be found and the other members of the exploratory party were asleep or involved in other projects.  So who was there to drink with?  Why the prisoners, of course!  Perhaps they were crude scoundrels, yes, but they looked like they might be able to hold their brew, and anyway, you'd gone drinking with worse.But the soldiers proved to be poor company.  They seemed terrified of their own shadows, and as they drank, they became more sullen and withdrawn.  As they began to loosen up just a bit (although not enough to ever be much fun) they told you about the nightmares they'd been having--dreams of their terrible ex-captain rising up out of the water, threatening to kill them.  "I swear that Miyris is still out there," one of the terrified prisoners says, "and she's caome back from the dead to get her revenge on us.  Revenge becausewe failed her."  You, of course, can't help but be amused by this.  The soldiers hadn't been told about the fact that they were now more than five hundred miles north of the spot where their bitter old sow of a commander had fallen into the brine.  Even if she'd come back as a seawraith, you'd find it hard to believe that she'd be able to catch up to the ship now.  You supress a chuckle at the idea of a shrivled dead woman furiously dog-paddling through the vast ocean, vainly trying to follow a ship long gone.But later, as you make your way back to your bunk, you can't help but feel a little shiver.  Now that you're alone, the idea of a vengeful spirit haunting the waves frightens even you a small amount.  You try and dismiss the idea from your mind, but you do not sleep well that night, as visions of a green-haired monster keep plying at your mind.[/SBLOCK]Mong - [SBLOCK]In your dreams, you are wandering again, travelling from town to town as a mercenary.  In many ways, these were among the best times of your life, despite the often sour reactions of those you worked for.  Eventually you left the mercenary trade, tired of the sometimes frightful looks you would recieve, tired of being seen as some sort of monster.  But in your dreams, it is the wandering itself that you return to, that you have always enjoyed, making your way from place to place, seeing new and strange things around every corner, walking sedately through verdant forests or sweeping plains, ever in appreciation of the landscape around you.In your dream tonight, you walk though a cold land of snow and ice, and were this not a dream you might remark upon the fact that this place is not in your memories--but in dreams we tend to ignore such things.  Beside you walks the priest, one of the few humans you've ever really been able to call friend.  You walk together in silence for quite some time, your boots crunching on the packed snow.  You do not question where you have been or where you are going--it is the journey that matters.At one point, however, something in the dream changes. You are suddenly aware of the cold, and although not frightened, per se, you do feel oddly disturbed.  The dream seems to become slow, and takes on a very sharp focus.  You suddenly realized that the priest is calling out your name.  "Mong.  Mong!"  His eyes are bright blue, like ice.  He is smiling, and there is something odd about that, but you cannot quite see what it is.  "You have to listen to me, please.  I only have a moment--and the danger you face is so great.  Know this: the storm was not meant for this ship.  The wheels of destiny are changing, and you are caught up in them  The balance..."At that moment, the priest's words are suddenly cut off.  There is a sudden, terrible roar of wind, and from the vale behind you emerges a blizzard, terrible and swift.  In seconds, the two of you are seperated by the storm, the priest still trying to shout something at you.Abruptly, you come awake, breathing heavily.  A light dusting of snow covers your blanket.[/SBLOCK]</blockquote>

Verification