Scrolls of Iria: The Isle of the Sun

Story​

Our story begins in the vast realm of Hanavar, a continent filled with all manner of terrain: forests and jungles and deserts and plains, mountains and caverns and tundra and swamps.

And far to the west of Hanavar, off the jungled coasts of Sin'Das Rei, is an Island known as Morolith where the kingdom of Sun Elves reside. They are an intriguing race mixed with logical thinkers, heavenly devouts and delicate warriors, and their hallowed Isle basks in the power of the sun, harnessing it's beautiful rays and worshipping its might. It is a mysterious land with its secrets kept close by the Sun Elves and though their people seem friendly, they are never to be trusted. Their honour is among them and their own, and no one else.

Yet somewhere inside you, you know there is so much opportunity to be had on this wonderous island. And that opportunity begs agonisingly close as you cross the Marooned Sea towards The Isle of the Sun, cutting through dangerous waters on the Kamela, a large transport frigate delivering goods and passengers. The boat is travelling to Lightwater, a trading port open to all races and in three days it will dock, and you are sure in your mind that you will be ready. Perhaps this is your chance to become rich as a merchant, or maybe you are here to study the magic, pray to the gods or fight for them. Perhaps you are a servant, chef or squire or quite possible a stowaway too. Soon your real journey will begin and your destiny revealed.

(Your story starts on the Kamela at dusk, the sun nowhere in sight as harsh storms cloud the horizon and send waves to rattle your senses. Perhaps you are below deck enjoying the company of the disgruntled crew, taking solitude in your own quarters or even hiding away in a dark corner of the cargo hull. Or maybe you are on deck, watching the heavy storm approach).

Area​

The realm of Hanavar is large, stretching from the northern peaks of Highguard, all the way south the Marshes of Moar. The continent is shaped like a star, each point at the North, South, East and West.

To the East is a kingdom time forgot, filled with ancient ruins and secrets not yet unearthed. It is known as only as Iria. To the West is the kingdom of Sin’Das Rei, where the mysterious Drow dwell. But in the center lies ‘The Three Rings’. ‘The Three Rings’ are the collective name for the kingdoms in the middle, known as Darn, Boradith and Terog. They are ruled by three brothers, so that family bonds keep the peace. Though this has not kept true.

The focus of our story is the island of Morolith, where the Sun Elves dwell. Through their logic and superstition they have harnessed the powers of the Sun to power their Empire, building an isle so bright, even through day and night. Morolith is known by many names, "The Island of Gold", "Fire Island", "Brightpeak", but it most commonly known as "The Isle of the Sun".

Races​

Drow: Drow are dark elves and have kept themselves hidden away in the jungle cities of Sin’Das Rei. Most stay with their own, but some have sought a different life, one that holds more freedom. However the rest of the world are wary of the Drow, for they are mysterious and fearsome creatures. Most follow the law to letter, and do not stray from the rules set by their leaders, whether Drow or not. Though there have been some exceptions. The Drow have a complicated and aggressive relationship with the Sun Elves.

Sun Elves: The Sun Elves are a powerful race, full of great thinkers and lightning quick fighters. They are incredibly sharp in all their pursuits, whether it is knowledge, hunting or something and they are quick to point that out. Vanity and pride are their weaknesses, and they can easily become jealous and petulant if it seems someone is doing better. The prime example of this it the Sun Elves' attitudes towards Boradith, the Human city of crystal. Though logical, the Sun Elves are also very superstitious and believe fully in the power of Sól (the Sun). Again, the Sun Elves have history with the Drow and generally are enemies.

Humans: Ah the humans. A formidable group of strength and cunning. Few races have risen to power so quickly in a millennia - yet these folks are smart and organised. The Sun Elves, Drow and Dwarves would be more fearful of their actions, if the Humans weren’t bickering between themselves. Unfortunately, the long held ‘family ruling’ law in The Three Rings is causing problems for the people, as each of the three brothers claims to be the true power of the kingdoms. Both the Sun Elves and Drow are wary of humanity and their thriving abilities. They are an ambitious race and the elves, Sun and Drow alike do not like this.

Dwarves: The Dwarves are the explorers of the world. They travel the realm, camping in tents outside towns and cities, selling strange artifacts and showing off their crafting skills. Dwarves tend to be nomadic and have a tendency for violence, which they try to conceal in their inner circles. No one is quite sure where they came from though. Tales tell of them burrowing out from under the ground, but most believe it to be a commoner’s myth. Like the Drow, some have decided to settle and find stability. Due to their short stature they can sometimes be seen as lesser beings, which when mentioned usually enrages them no end. The Elves, Sun and Drow a like are generally quite reserved about any comments, but still think lower of them. However the humans, with their smart mouths, usually have something to say or a joke to insult with. The Dwarves tend to be a little cold and distant towards the humans.

Combat​

Combat uses DICE. You have been warned.

Each player will be allowed an action, which will be determined by their character. So wizards will not be limited to one ‘ice’ spell, for example. Instead the player will write the action how they want it to happen, ending their post just before the outcome. If they are ‘successful’ (which I will get to in a moment) then I will write the outcome of their attack.

Here are some examples: A wizard casts a fire spell at the enemy, and it is successful so the enemy catches fire (and most likely dies). However there may be consequences to setting the man on fire, maybe he runs into a curtain in panic and starts a larger fire, which now endangers the group.

Another example would be that a warrior swings his heavy longsword sideways towards an enemy. He fails, the enemy ducks and his sword lodges deep into a tree, giving the enemy time to strike.

So how is an action determined? By a dice. I will roll a dice, and will then write the conclusion of the roll. The first dice in the game will be six sided, and if a 3 or lower is rolled you will fail your action. I will be completely honest with the dice, so if the games against you, it’s just your luck.

However items can improve that luck. Specials Items (special armour, swords, trinkets etc.) will give you action points, which will be added to the roll for a higher score. (I will tell you when you have found a special item, you will not start with one).

As the game progresses, larger sided dice (10 sided etc.) will be used, which will indicate harder enemies and more sway in the dice rolls.

Now for Health. There will be no HP etc. Just three different states of health. ‘Healthy’, ‘Injured’, and ‘Fallen’. Fallen does not mean dead, but you can no longer participate with actions until after the battle is finished, or someone heals you in combat. After any combat, you are allowed recover so that you can enjoy the story, or stay injured if that's what you want for your character.

One last point. Actions are not just for combat. In special circumstances where, for example, a door needs to be picked by a thief, they will need to roll the dice. Not on every occasion, but certainly on the important ones. (P.S - Or a large warrior could roll to smash the door down, but you’d bring a lot more attention to yourself!)

Classes​

There are three four classes – Warrior, Wizard, Thief and Ranger. But two of the same class can be different. For instance you could be a huge strong and muscular warrior, able to almost throw men; or you could be a small and agile warrior, cutting down men swift and silently. Wizards can be mages, healers, whatever! It’s up to your description what type they are! But just be fair about it – clearly a small and agile warrior isn’t going to be the strongest.

You will also be asked for your main strength and main weakness in your character sheets. While your character will have a range of fantastic abilities, I want their to be an trumping strength and weakness, which I can use to your advantage/disadvantage. So for example if your strength is marksmanship and you are trying to fire an arrow at a bad guy in a fight, I will add a bonus to your roll. Vice versa for weaknesses. It will also impact any out of combat interaction, for example if your weakness is stealth and you write that you pickpocketed a guard, then I will catch you out and the guard will notice. This is not in to affect your gameplay, just to add a bit more dimension to your characters. Be fair with your strengths and weaknesses, they will likely link (I.e monstrous strength should equal low stealth skill, unless you can cleverly argue your point!).

Rules​

1. I am Cobra Commander... I mean GM. What I say goes, not matter what.

No matter what, Mister?

That's right Jimmy, no matter what.

2. Be a friendly bear. In game your characters can be as mean to each other as you want (but be prepared for a backlash!). However outside of the game please be nice to one another. If you want to try something with another players character, then PM them first and get their approval. Or better yet, collab with them. Always assume goodwill.

3. Hey Mister, my Mage conjured a Mini-Gun, that's okay right? No Jimmy, that's a dick move and I will slap you upside the head for doing it. No Godmodding. i.e no making your character so uber powerful that he could complete everything by blinking. Understand?

Yes Mister!

Shut up, Jimmy.

4. One main character only. While I understand some of you will want to create more than one main character, I find the game has much more control when each player only has one. That's not to say you can't create NPCs, which can be used to help develop your characters story and give them some background or relationship with someone. NPCs won't need character sheets.

5. Swearing is allowed. I understand if this offends you, but in my mind swear words are exactly that, just words. I think most people on here are adults and will be okay with this, and those that swear in their work will know what's a good and appropriate level. That doesn't mean you have to swear by the way, there's no pressure here.

So I can say damn and darn it, Mister?

Jimmy, fuck off.

6. Being as we are all adults (I'm assuming), this means that you will all be willing to compromise. For a good development of character and story, you need to compromise with your fellow players and negotiate who gets the upper hand in a fight, in dialogue or anything else that links character, to name a few examples. Your character can't always be right, and sometimes they can be just downright idiotic in a certain situation, depending on their personality.

7. Collaborate! My favourite rule. Those that know me and my games will understand that collaborating on posts is the key to a good story, and almost always gets super high praise from the other players. Again this links with rule 6, so don't be downheartened if the person you are collaborating with doesn't like that idea. Accept it and move on; perhaps suggest a new idea or a different spin on the previous one. Collaborate!

Can I collaborate with you, Mister?

No Jimmy, just no.

8. There is no minimum requirement on post lengths. While I prefer a collaborative post, I am more than happy for players to post a quick one liner to keep their stories moving.

9. No controlling other players. Pretty obvious considering rule 2 and 7. If you want to do something with someone else's character then get the approval first.

10. This is not a PG-13. Again, we are adults (still assuming here) and if you want to talk about adult themes then go ahead. At the same time, I don't want to upset the forum in any way, so if you think a post would be over the line then please come to me for approval (and I'll likely escalate to Pheonix ).

Am I real, Mister?

I'm not entirely sure Jimmy. I did about three lines of cocaine earlier and now my nose is bleeding, so...

11. Read each post - the whole post - carefully. You want people to read and understand your posts, so show the same respect and read theirs.

12. Please respect the tone of the game. Please write realistically and in character.

Template - All Profiles must be PM'd to me for approval!​

Name:

Gender:

Race:

Age:

Appearance:

Background:

Reason for Boarding the Kamela:

Class(Warrior, Wizard, Ranger, Thief):

Class Type:

Main Strength:

Main Weakness:

Family History (optional):

Any Other Information:

Phew, that's all folks!

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Prologue
​

With the glare from Lightwater still visible the hooded stranger thrust his reins faster, forcing his swift brown steed to gallop deeper into Nymeria's Garden, a forest of white oak and golden leaves, and even on this moonless night darkness could not hide him from the light.

The air was still and every hoove, clang and breath could be heard through the woodland and the stranger leaned close to his horse's mane, his head shifting left, right and over his shoulder. Preparation for this meet had been meticulous and he was absolutely certain he'd not been followed, doubling back multiple times on his travels. This particular client demanded full confidentially, beyond what had been expected of the stranger before. He made a point never to ride alone for a job, especially into Nymeria's Garden, however after receiving an emerald the size of his fist he found it difficult not to, at the very least, hear this client out.

The stranger couldn't help be feel excited. There was such a thrill when tittering close to the edge, knowing that you are seconds away from either death or glory. Maybe he hadn't been careful enough and was followed, maybe there was an ambush waiting up ahead or maybe his client was just a ruse to get him out into the open. A crooked smile crept across his lips as he pondered, always knowing that he lived for these moments, for the ecstasy of the fight, the job, the score.

The horse turned off the road just before a small bridge and followed the river down stream. This was a split from the main river that cut East through Nymeria's Garden and meandered slowly towards the Path of the Five. The forest became thicker and the golden leaves merged together, losing their shine and fading silver in the night. The trunks closed in around the stranger, his vision a blur of white and silver, and his body shot forward like a bow string, the horse pulling up abruptly, it's hooves digging furiously into the ground and stopping just short a hollow below.

The landscape dipped sharply into the hollow, where one single tree stood in the middle its size massive and its branches covered in blood red leaves. Due to the dip the tree hid everything underneath and the stranger could barely see inside. He cautiously got down off his steed and held the reins tight. The horse was startled. She dragged her hooves and stomped the ground, her heart thumping loudly through her glossy brown coat. She would not calm and no amount of stroking would ease her, even after tenderly rubbing her muzzle and locking eyes. Yet the stranger could not delay and forcibly tied her as best he could to the nearest tree, then turned towards the blood leaf hollow and headed down.

It was dark underneath. There were no fireflies here, no break of light from the night sky and no dwindling glare from Lightwater or The Visage. It felt so very cold. The stranger slid down the dried dirt slowly hoping not to alert any unwanted attention, but in that moment he watched as a shape sulked from behind the tree trunk. It moved low and softly, it's shape barely visible in the darkness and it approached, as if stalking prey. The stranger's heart bounced around his chest seeing a wild jaguar, it's coat as black as night, teeth so sharp and eyes of demon red. He went for the dagger on his belt but strangely the creature turned away, heading back towards the tree. It casually crossed behind the trunk, before returning on the other side as a much larger figure.

"A little jumpy, aren't we?" The shadowy figure asked.

The stranger sprung his hand away from the dagger not wanting to cause offence and stood up and dusted himself off, "I prefer to be jumpy than dead." He grinned. "We don't get cats like that this side of The Marooned Sea. Or Druids for that matter."

The Druid stepped out from behind the trunk revealing himself as a Drow the size of a great bear, with dull black skin that matched his long hair, thick brown leather armour adorned with feathers and a handmade necklace crafted with what could only be described as trophies from his previous kills. And of course there were his deep red eyes, hauntingly glowing in the darkness and staring narrowly at the stranger. "So... you found it?" The Druid asked.

"I have." The stranger replied.

"You have? Do you have it?"

"No."

"No? Why not!?" The Druid bellowed, thundering his foot down and sending tremors across the ground. "What are you waiting for?"

"Two things really." The stranger said rubbing his chin. "One is planning. They've got that thing locked up tighter than a noble priestess's chastity belt and its gonna take more than a few charms to get at it. Now I'm not going to say it can't be done, I just need a little time."

"You've had time-"

"-to locate it. And that's what I have done."

"The taking was implied." The Druid snarled, pacing back and forth.

The stranger could have sworn he saw the jaguar's face again. "Implied by you, not me. My instructions were clear. Locate the stone." The stranger said.

"Well let me be clear then," the Druid stepped to the stranger in one stride and towered over him, "take the stone and return it to me."

"Ahh, now you see that's where thing Two comes in - Payment." The stranger took the fist sized emerald from his robe and tossed it lightly in the air, "these things don't grow on trees you know, and being so good at my job means I'm costly." A sly smile glimmered under his hood.

"Hmmpf... get me what I want and you'll believe these things really do grow on trees." The Druid said with a dark chuckle, throwing two more heavy rubies at the stranger's feet. "Now finish this."

"As you wish." The stranger responded, but the Druid had already turned and shifted back into a jaguar, his hulking body slipping into a lithe creature of the night. He prowled along the edge of the grove before bouncing up through the blood tree and disappearing completely.

The stranger waited a while to ensure there was no other shady business to occur, no underhanded double dealings or other competition for the job. Once a reasonable amount of time had passed and he felt satisfied this score was legitimate, he bent down to the ground and picked up his rubies and smiled.

 

Approved!

 

Chapter 1

The Journey to the Edge of the World​

They say you dream of it at sea, the hope that through all the swirling black and blue, thrashing winds and heavy skies, you'll see the Isle of the Sun. Through the harsh Marooned Sea you'll watch the fires burst up bright into the sky from the city that never sleeps, a beacon that leads you, forever and always, to a land so beautiful and golden, so enchanting and mysterious, a place so magical it's as if the Angels themselves came down from the skies and cut a slice of heaven in Hanavar.

To actually see it - see the Isle of the Sun - well that is a gift in itself. Few have save for the bravest travellers, whether they be traders, wizards, warriors or thieves, and these lucky few will know they could travel Hanavar a thousand times over and not find a more beautiful sight. And yet... it's beauty is its greatest threat. It tricks you, toys with you and makes you believe in the hope, right before plunging you into the darkness and corruption. Yes, there is opportunity on Morolith, the great Isle of the Sun - but only for those who can adapt to their ways.

"You lazy bastards! Sacks of mule shit the lots of ya! Reef the mainsail! REEF THE MAINSAIL!" Captain Isaac spat orders from the helm, a little saliva catching in his frosted grey beard. His captain's jacket, navy coloured on his first tour but now weathered and black, soaked up the increasing rain and his three pronged hat dripped slowly from each tip.

From the South the winds were picking up and the light of the sun was dwindling behind the clouds, but thankfully the waves were calm and the Kamela was steady. They still had time to make preparations for the storm, as long as the crew could "REEF THE FUCKING MAINSAIL! Oh five divines - watch out for the boom you bloody idiot!" He rolled his eyes and shook his head, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a compass, hoping that it would somehow bring him comfort. "This is what I get for hiring pissing mercs, bloody thick as planks the lotta'em."

Before they had set sail from Fin'Lac, Captain Issac's loyal men were a skeleton crew, barely able to make the Kamela float at all. But there was promise of big cargo and wealthy passengers wanting to cross the Marooned Sea, so he entered the closest inn and promised coin to any punter interested. Humans mainly, ranging from boys to men and anything in between, none of them sea worthy really, but Issac had cargo too valuable to pass up. He hired what he could and brought them on board - instructing them to stick to the main deck and not speak a word to passengers. As the weeks went by that became increasingly difficult.

Issac also kept passengers limited as well allowing them top side only on the helm with him or the obversation deck just below. In the hull they could all do whatever the hell they liked for all he cared, customer and crew alike. And these arrangements had worked well so far, they had lasted a month with only an eye gouging, a broken wrist and a 'misplaced' thumb. Issac laughed quietly to himself at the fact that these were all crew injuries caused by provoked passengers. They knew had to protect themselves, that's for damn sure. Only three more days solid sailing were left and things on board were holding - just - but the storm had the potential to be the breaking point.

Perhaps it would be easier to sail North, add a day to journey but miss the storm altogether. But in Issac's mind efficiency was key, he needed this cargo tipped and paid for so that he could just as quickly move onto the next job. Damned be the fact they were a useless crew, they would learn the way he learned, by surviving. He gritted his wooden dentures together and headed for the Western horizon, no fear in his mind as he stared at the rolling black. He called out across the helm and down through the observation deck, "Sweet ladies and laddies, a storm be rolling in upon us and I wish no ill on any of my travellers. We here on the Kamela take special care of our customers, so I must ask that you be making your way back into the hull and to your personal quarters shortly. S'an hour yet before the storm be raging."

 

Sitting on top of the deck with all his gear, Vedelo had been writing in a large tome when he heard the captain start shouting. He had been nervous about this trip. He had never been on the ocean before this. The sway of this ship had become something he enjoyed. Now with the prospect of a storm he felt the jitters again. When the captain ordered everyone back down into the hull he quietly packed up his writing and gracefully unfurled himself from the deck.

Making his way down the steps into the ships hull he glanced around to see some of the other passengers doing the same. Once below decks Vedelo made his way to the passengers quarters without stopping. He nimbly moved around several bustling sailors on their way up to the deck.

As he settled into the cramped quarters on the cot he had claimed he thought ahead to the landing at Morolith and again wondered if he'd even be allowed access to the island considering his Drow heritage. Vedelo shook these thoughts aside, he'd deal with it when the time came. For now he let himself gently fall into a peaceful meditation.

 

The sound of a cheerful violin broke through the worried murmurs of the passengers in the hold. Rumors of the storm had already made their way through the ship and as people hunkered down for the coming storm, a smiling dwarf sat upon a tall barrel playing her violin as if it were the the best day on earth. For those familiar with their musical folk lore, they would recognize the tune as the popular song "Tales of a Man."
It was a song that told the story of a man who'd set out on a great adventure to become rich, only to end up getting eaten by a dragon. Such a sad tale for such a lively tune, but still she played.

Meek Gromlen drew her bow across her violin with abandon, ignoring the surprised or condescending looks from the passengers. She knew full well most thought Dwarfs were only capable of crafting or mining. Little did they know that some were capable of far more. And soon, she'd prove it to world by becoming the first dwarven bard ever!

 

A single man was sitting on the back part of the ship’s deck. He didn’t had enough money to pay for a ride and neither was willing to do any heavy work such as rowing or moving part of the cargo, not that he could do it if asked to anyway, for he, this was a free ride or in other works, he was a stowaway in the Kamela.

But why to hide in the cargo room or mix within the crew? He would rather stay there watching the grey colored horizon which was reflected on his eyes and long hair both also colored in the same gray. If the captain or anyone else were to suddenly show up and try to grab him to force some work on him or perhaps to throw him to the merciless sea all he had to do was to vanish like mist, an illusion that would not only let the men confused but also with an eerie anecdote to tell and retell and once again ‘till it’s completely turned into something completely different. Regardless that had no importance for him.

“A storm is coming... rain’s drops shall be a salty banquet… I do hope this doesn’t become a deadly storm seeking us to join the depths of the ocean, last time I wasted months… but this would be decades…” said to himself.
He could had thought those words but the human’s logic long ago abandoned his being and thus talking alone didn’t seem to be an odd behavior to him.

But he still retained some of his humanity, that old desire for the hunt of treasure. In the past he would be the one fishing through the cargo and saving anything he could within his clothes and an old patched bag, however, that’s something he’ll never do again.

“Not that I need it now anyway…. Only the gold coins to buy information are useful now.”

A drip of water fell upon his face but his skin did not feel it or at least not in the proper way. For him it was like eating, from a mortal viewpoint, the rain from a storm in the middle of the ocean was the equivalent of roasted chicken’s meat kept in storage for more than a week but not rotten; certainly not the tastiest of things but he couldn’t complain.

“Soon the ocean will jump and try to devour this ship and the men will fiercely fight against him. I personally don’t want to be drifted by this water, to the below deck it is then.” Said before vanishing.

Or more likely melting and disappearing, soon his body would be reformed once again in the below deck, he didn’t want to start a ruckus so he made sure to do it were no one could see him.

“A violin huh?... I wonder if I could play one” said to himself not taking care to mumble the words. He didn’t move from his position but he lied there listening to the music. By now his hair and eyes were no longer grey but instead dark colored reflecting the dim illumination of the place.

“I’m glad that to be able to perceive this pleasure is something I still keep within me.”

 

Saorla opened her notebook for the hundredth time this trip. She had to resort to pulling her sleeve back in order to see the remaining words on the page. The notes were familiar to her for she had taken them, memorized them; there on the sheet lay only a portion of her research in the arcane and mundane healing. She had kept to herself this trip, and she would continue to do so. The bard’s music helped her in her focus, so a complaint couldn’t be found within her overflowing mind on the matter. She was blissfully unaware of the storm, sure people were talking about it, but if it wasn’t in her notebook, it wasn’t in her brain..

As more souls began to fill up the hull, she let out something of an annoyed sigh and snapped her book closed; the ruckus and chatter hindered her studying in the worst way. Finally, she lifted those mocha eyes, and began to listen to the chatter. Her goal, to learn what was so important. She gathered her curly, ginger locks and pulled them off to the side of her right shoulder, before leaning back into her seated position within the cot. Everybody seemed to be worked up about some storm. At least if anyone got injured, she could make some use out of herself. A little practice never did any harm. Not that she would ever wish harm on anybody…

 

The sounds of singing and music raised Vedelo out of his meditative state. He took a couple breaths and slowly stretched himself out. He hadn't been meditating very long he knew. Not sure what else to do with his time he slipped his book back out of his bag and turned to the front and began reading a bit. Every so often he would flip around, quill in hand, making small marks before flipping to the back of the tome. For now he was content to enjoy the music being played by the dwarf on the barrel.

Meek played until her hands got tired. Then with deft movements she slipped her bow into its protective sheath and slung her violin over her shoulder, leaping off the barrel. She believed in the fact that there was a story every where that one went. Now bored, she searched for said story wondering if she'd find anything interesting today.

The hull had become crowded with people moving back to their quarters. She weaved through them with ease, knowing that if she wished she could've picked half their pockets without them ever knowing. Meek passed by an open room, her eye catching the frame of a drow busily writing in what appeared to be a many page manuscript. A couple of pages had fallen to the floor. One of them named, "Ancient history of Hanavar." Now, she was intrigued. Perhaps a story lay here.

Without even a knock or a asking permission to enter she slipped into the Drow's room and picked up the pages that had fallen. "You a historian?" Meek asked, curiosity peaked.

Vedelo sensed some one coming in two his small room. He turned and scooped the first few pages of his work off the ground. Giving a small grin he replied, "History is a passion of mine. I do my own research where I can. I also search for the hidden histories of the world. I'm hoping the grand libraries of Morolith have some tales I can add to my compliation."

He handed her the first several pages to look at. As he did he noticed the violin on her back and commented, "You have a gift for music."

"Finally, someone who notices, or at the least isn't too proud to ignore it." Meek replied hopping up to sit on the edge of his desk, her small legs kicking the air as they dangled over the side. "I'm Meek Gromlen, the first Dwarven Bard in Hanavar. What do they call you?"

Gently setting his tome aside for the moment, he answered her, "Vedelo Vandego, son of Zidigo of Terog and Qiza of Sin'Das Rei. Myself, I hail from Boradith." Vedelo attempted a slight bow while sitting, "It's a pleasure. What brings you Morolith? The bard academy?"

Meek made a face at his name then shrugged at his question. "Naw, been to an academy already. Well, three that is before I finally found one in Terog that let me attend. I'm here for adventure!" Her face beamed with excitement. "And a story! One that will let me pass the final test to become a bard. You?"

Grinning himself Vedelo replied, "I'm sure you'll find plenty enough stories here. I myself am hoping to do more research on the history of Hanavar. Iria in particular," he added more seriously.

Feeling the rocking of the ship beneath them, Vedelo gathered his documents and quill, stowing them away. "Seems the storm will be upon us before long."

"Ugh, storms. This is why I prefer dry land." Meek groaned leaping off the desk. "Good luck with your research, Vedelo. And, you should work on that book...its a bit dry." She smirked and left him to his pages, heading off to play a bit more music before the storm hit.

 

Shango was enjoying being on a ship: the wind carressing his face and making his long braids stream behind him, the salty smell of the sea and the sight of the shimmering waves, even the harsh language of the Captain as he shouted orders at his mangy crew. Shango loved it all! It was so different from what he was used to back in Kemet, where no one dared to slouch or cuss around him, the Great Royal Prince. But here, he was only seen as another member of the crew and not treated any more special than the others.

Presently, he stood on the deck leaning over the side, his nose raised high as he inhaled the sea breeze. Even before the Captain said a storm was coming, Shango felt the pressure in the atmosphere and the increasing moisture. He looked down at his hand and spread his long fingers: tiny red flames appeared at the tip of each finger, burning steadily. "I won't even be able to do this if it starts raining," he remarked, but he didn't really care. He made a fist and the little flames winked out.

He turned away from the ever-changing sea and strode across the ship, his tall ebony staff with the gold caps in his left hand. (So far, he had not revealed the Staff's true appearance to anyone and had kept its powers a secret.) His crimson robes flapped in the wind, vivid against his gleaming black skin, and his gold jewelry--the large nose ring, his thick neck collar, multiple gold hoop earrings, the large armbands--shone brightly. He also wore a thin gold circlet on his head today, the one his mother had given him before he left Kemet.

"Captain!" Shango called out in greeting as he neared Captain Isaac. He smiled broadly and showed his teeth, which were brilliant white from regularly chewing licorice root. "Can I stay above deck for the storm, or must I go to my bunk? I would love to witness the sea churning and the dark angry clouds! Do you think there will be a water spout? Those tornadoes that suck up water and destroy ships?" His eyes lit up with wonder and he looked at the Captain expectantly.

 

Evan stood in the hold, his hands over his head, ignoring the soft murmuring of other stowaways like him. He wished the Dwarven violin player hadn’t stopped playing and left the hold; the music had soothed him, and for a little while had taken his mind off the churning waves. Now there was nothing to distract him from the storm that was already starting to violently toss the boat around, or perhaps that was just what it felt like to him, a young man who had never even seen the sea before, much less sailed on it. He took a few deep, trembling breaths, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of his last meal desperately trying to escape his body. He wasn’t sure how long it was going to be until he ate again, and he needed every bit of food that was left in his stomach.

The ship lurched, and Evan groaned, clapping both hands over his mouth in an urgent attempt to keep his food down. Unfortunately, the ocean seemed to have a different plan, and jerked the ship again, dislodging his hands from his mouth, and causing him to vomit over the floor of the hold, and on the shoes of the person nearest him.

Ignoring the exclamations of disgust, Evan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and slowly and carefully made his way to a corner of the hold, where he crouched down to wait out the storm. He rocked back and forward slightly, and prayed under his breath to any god he happened to have ever heard the name of. He had never been religious himself, but anything was worth a shot to try and get the storm to stop soon.

 

When I had first gotten on the Kamela, I was excited. But, as the days went on, I got more and more restless. I had already studied the recipes in my possession, but I couldn't very well put them into practice, not with a ship that rocks around so much. I could very well blow a hole in the side of the ship and send us to the bottom of the sea. I couldn't even practice with my scythe either. One wrong swing, and I take off some poor guy's head and end up in jail or the chopping block.

Today, I was hanging around the observation deck. I had just been pacing around, trying to work off some of the excess energy that was built up inside of me, to no avail. When the captain gave the order to go back down under, I sighed in exasperation. "Of course." I thought, at least being up here meant that I at least got some fresh air. I decided one last walk around the ship wouldn't hurt anything. I tightened my black hooded cape and pulled the hood up as I felt a few raindrops. I wandered to the helm and noticed a finely dressed man talking with the captain. I listened in and the first thought that came to my mind was. "That's... kind of cute." I thought, covering my mouth to hide a grin. He was kind of acting like a child... probably a sheltered upbringing... that or it was his first time on a boat... though of course, a man his age shouldn't be so excited about a storm that could potentially wreck our ship.

I shrugged and just went on my way. I finally and reluctantly went down below deck. I didn't know whether to just go straight to my quarters, or hang around outside for a while... not that there was much to do either way. I didn't want to bug anyone by trying to start up a conversation with them, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be left alone in my room with nothing but my thoughts to keep myself somewhat sane. I went to a corner of the ship and contemplated what to do.

 

Meek left her conversation with the Drow and with a running start, hopped back on the barrel she'd been previously sitting on. Her eyes scanned the other passengers. One was getting sick over another human's shoes, another was standing in the corner looking bored. Humans... She thought with distaste. She pulled her violin off her back and touched her bow to one of the strings. What should she play now? A battle tune, a popular folk dance? Maybe a slow tavern song. She pulled the bow across the strings, not really playing anything in particular just stringing out notes. Her eyes caught the ones of a human standing in the corner looking bored.
If he had a song...what would it be? She played a variety of tunes until his eyebrows lifted. She smirked. Found it. She took the tune and played it a little louder and a little faster. Every person had a song, every person had a story. Finding them sometimes took years, and then sometimes, it took minutes. But it was always fun when she did.

I heard some music in the background, I noticed that it kept changing. Eventually, one song caught my attention. It began slowly and sadly... but soon the tune began to rise with a hopeful tune and finally ended with an uplifting melody. I turned to the violinist and couldn't help but applaud her performance. I walked up to her and pulled out a small coin purse and fished out a few coins and held them out. "Uh... I really liked your song." I said, I felt kind of embarrassed for the meager offering for such a beautiful display of skill, but as it was, I had very little money already, it was a little over half of what I had. As soon as I got off the ship, I'd have to hope for some work.

"Of course you did. I played it for you." Meek replied with a proud smile. She raised an eyebrow at the coins and plucked the shiniest one out of his hand, looking at it as if it were a piece of gold that needed inspecting. "Ooh, this one is only a year old. Nice. I'll add to my collection."

"Huh? Uh... you did?" I asked, mildly surprised that someone would go through that much trouble for a stranger, especially one that didn't seem that rich... I was even more surprised when she only took one coin and was only talking about adding it to a collection. "Um... i-it's a tip... I-I thought that you deserved one for your playing." I said awkwardly, I was honestly surprised that anyone would deny money, no matter how... pitiful it might be... but of course, I've done that before with very impoverished families that couldn't afford medicine or offering a reward for dealing with pests that were messing with their livelihoods. I didn't look that downtrodden... did I...?

"Meh, don't do it for the money. Just like knowing I got you're song right." She crossed her legs and rested her violin, staring down at him like he was a curiosity. "I'm Meek. First Dwarven bard in Hanaver. What's your story?"

"I-I see." I said, I put the rest of the coins back and slipped the coin purse back into my pocket after tightening the leather cord. "It's nice to meet you, Meek. I'm Joe, I'm an alchemist... well in training... and... I'm more of a freelancer right now, I guess." I said, rubbing the back of my head, chuckling awkwardly.

Meek smirks at him. "You sound nervous. What, never talked to a dwarf before? Or is it because I'm pretty?" She grinned teasingly, flashing white teeth.

"Mmm... nothing like that, just a case of 'Making an ass out of myself'." I said, chuckling awkwardly, rubbing the back of my head.

Meek raises an eyebrow but shrugs and pulls her violin back up to her chin. "Humans are weird. I get it. You can't help yourselves." She chuckles lightly and pulls her bow across the strings calling out a series of lighthearted teasing notes.

"Everyone's weird in some way, but if they are somehow completely and utterly normal, then they're completely and utterly boring." I said, giving her a sagely nod. I was starting to recover to the awkward moment a few moments before.

"Precisely!" She agreed emphatically. "But if you're too weird then the universe might very well declare you annoying and decide to kill you off from story." She chuckles.

"Exactly! Or if you're a huge prick. I mean, you might stick around for a while, but eventually, everything crumbles around you and you're left with nothing... that or you meet a very grisly end by a dashing hero, a wild beast, or double crossed by one of your fellow pricks in crime!" I said, chuckling.

"Ah, never better is the tale of a villain who meets his end at the hands of a hero." She hopped off the barrel. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Joe. I'm going to put away my violin before the storm rolls in." She smiles and waves up at him before dashing off.

"See ya." I called out after her, waving, I then went back to the corner, feeling a bit more cheerful after talking to the dwarven bard.

 

"Do you think ther will be a water spout? Those tornados that suck up water and destroy ships?"

The Captain starred at Shango with a heightened brow, before turning to the crew men, "Ha-ha this one's a real joker lads, he be pulling your legs is all." Issac tried to throw an arm around Shango's shoulder but only found his back, the Kemetian too tall for him. "You trying to spook 'em or something?" He hissed, "talking storms and spouts and torn-
tornardos and whatnot. Don't need that and don't need no yellow belly crew."

Captain Issac pulled himself back up and gazed at the front of the Kamela, noting the darkened clouds closing in. "By my reckoning, you got forty, maybe fifty minutes up here before the storm cracks us a new one. When it comes, you better be in the hull. Customer poleacy. Now bugger off, I have a ship to sail."

 

"Would you stop playing that stomatiferous music!” A female’s voice cut into Meek’s performance like a hot a knife through butter. A young woman in the back around whose face was currently covered by a green hood sat crossed legged on the floor of the ship.

She was pressed tightly against the wall of the ship, her hands grasping a large bucket. That freaky looking dwarf was ever so making this awful ride even worse; she wanted to sleep but the risk of somehow falling overboard kept coming back fool force and the rocking in her stomach wasn't about to subside either.

Surely such a big word like stomatiferous would have the other Bards respecting her. Wait, wait was that the correct usage of the word? stomatiferous. The Bard searched her mind for correct definition; The young woman felt her face start to heat up as it came back to her.

Stomatiferous means to produce stomata.

Her hazel eyes went wide.

Translation.....

The Bard had told the dwarf her music made stomata. That doesn't make any sense! The Bard swallowed pulling the bucket closer to her; hopefully nobody would notice or hopefully none of the other poets has ever heard of such a word. Her frown only deepened as the currents started to pick up and the volcanic rumbling in her stomach moved with it.

"This...." Her voice grew distant. "Stupid ship, stupid storm...." The Bard sniffed. "Well at least the music stopped."

She pulled her cloak over her tighter.

How were these people all behaving in such a calm manner?

What if lightning strikes the ship?

Oh god or pirates?

The Bard squirmed. "Gonna be sick." She turned green. "er- sicker."

 

"Now bugger off, I have a ship to sail."

Shango chuckled and patted the Captain on the back. He found Isaac to be very funny when he cussed. "Okay, if you say I must go to the hull, my friend, then I will," he told the Captain. "And sorry for the talk of water spouts, I wasn't thinking. But if one does appear, please call for me. I would hate to miss it!"

A couple long strides and Shango was back below deck. He entered the hull and stood in the entrance, smiling at the other passengers. "It is going to be a glorious storm, my friends!" he announced. Then he saw the green-hooded young lady in the corner, looking quite uncomfortable. He walked over to her and leaned down by her side. "Are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern. "Do you have the sea sickness?"

 

“What a bad taste, I was here enjoying the play…

Or could it be that she has something to offer to us?” Said Caleb to no one in particular but himself, a monologue that should be done into his mind.

“I guess I’ll have to introduce myself to the artists” Said the man who hid at the dwarf’s back.

His skillful hands plus his particular nature made an easy job for him to take the coin from the dwarf, so skillful he wouldn’t notice it.

However he wasn’t intending to steal it but just to check what was so interesting about it.

“Just a bright new coin but no magical gold or unique ore… I suppose my tastes as a collector are bad” Said this time not to himself but to the dwarf he just pickpocketed.

“Here my dear musician” stated while offering the coin which was now wet for some reason.

He then moved toward The Bard, a movement so flawless and smooth that it seemed his feet hadn’t been raised not even once, no, as if they had just melted with the floor. It patted her shoulder from behind her.

“Pardon me miss, but I felt offended after such interruption. You’ll see, I was enjoying the music. It may see not important to you, but these pleasures are quite exceptional for me. Please I would ask you to…. Huh?” Said as he saw the instrument The Bard carried.

“Could it be that an artist you are as well, then erase that furrowed brow and play a piece for all of us!” Exclaimed.

His behavior and movements were eccentric, anyone would feel embarrassed while acting like that, others would point and put it to shame, however, this man made it all look as if it were to be a drama played in the streets that it just caught people’s attention and kept them quiet.

It was as if he were to be the central actor of a play in this one scene.

 

"Do you have the sea sickness?"

The Bard gave Shango a flat look for several seconds; her eyes narrowing slightly.

Long hair?

Check!

Nose ring?

Check!

Big gold staff!

CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEECK!

The Bard was no fool, this man might have been a barbarian …..no….no with a staff like that he had to be one of those men who sold women. Oh God, she turned her face away from him still not responding.OH GOD!

What if he was planning to sell her.

“Could it be that an artist you are as well, then erase that furrowed brow and play a piece for all of us!” Exclaimed another with Gorgeous hair.

"SILENCE!" She snapped. "Can't you so I am trying to ward off advances from this man who has the most ostentatious attempts to sell me!"

Shango was momentarily distracted by the newcomer, a flamboyant, graceful individual that acted as if he were in a play. "Marvelous!" Shango exclaimed with a big smile. "An actor on our very ship!" His attention was recaptured when the Bard cried out how she was trying to keep Shango from selling her.

"Um, miss, I was just worried about your well being," Shango said, holding up his hands to show that he was harmless. "I could get you some water, or something to eat, if you'd like."

The Bard rubbed her chin. "You expect me to believe you're not a flesh-pettler? I'll have you know I come from a very important family and if any trickery be had THAT I am well looked after by very rich people!"

Shango smirked wryly. "I am Prince of Kemet, my dear," he said in a dry tone. "I'm pretty sure your connections could do next to nothing if I chose to take you. But I do not plan to do that, because the people of Kemet do not trade flesh. And you will be apt to remember that we are on a ship headed to the Isle of the Sun and a storm is approaching--how could I possibly steal you? No, I am merely asking if you need help."

"A prince!?" The Bard looked around with confusion. "Isle of the Sun, huh!?"

"Uh, yes...sorry, I didn't meant to tell anyone I was a prince," Shango said, looking a little embarrassed. "And this ship is most definitely going to the Isle of the Sun. You were not aware of that?" Shango narrowed his large amber-colored eyes in confusion. He was beginning to wonder if this little green-clad female was touched in the head.

"Surely you jest!?" She said reaching out and grabbing at his cloak. "You JEST!? This is the ship for Hezengoth's Academy for Poets!"

Shango smiled gently, realizing that the Bard had gotten on the wrong ship somehow. "I do not jest, I speak the truth," he told her. "I'm sorry that you're not going where you thought you were. But maybe this is fate! Maybe you are meant to go to the Isle of the Sun for some greater purpose! It would be just like Ka the Almighty God to play such a trick on a traveler." Shango chuckled nervously, wondering if the woman would strike at him in her crazed state or calm down.

The Bard’s sickly green face turned a bright red and if anybody looked hard enough they’d surely see steam coming out of her ears.

“GREATER PURPOSE!” She yelled. “My purpose is to study with the most esteemed poets of our age and now I’m stuck on this boat, going where!?”

No!

NO!

She gritted her teeth; tears welling in her eyes and with one angry boot she kicked her bucket into the air. The bucked smashed in the center of the ship, sprinkling and splashing anyone in nearby range with her sea sickness heave.

Dead silence.......

The Bard was to busy ranting and punching at air to realize what she'd done. "Rasum frazum." She growled before giving a heavy breath and blinking at the several surprised and or angry eyes that befell her.

 

A heavy, persistent wind gusted across the deck of the Kamela, like gentle fingers carrying the promise of an iron-fisted storm. Syl Nerrier knew the heavens had something fierce in store for them this day, long before the captain’s announcement. She stood near him at the helm, and yet so very far away, staring at the pinpoint of light in a sky of gray. Even the sun was in full retreat.

Syl had been this way for much of the journey. Most days, she found a comfortable spot and either stood or sat, alone, sometimes with her eyes closed and sometimes staring blankly off into the horizon, always with a serene smile on her face, as if she wasn’t really there.

These solemn vigils would sometimes be interrupted by crewmen or other passengers, usually pausing to ask what Morolith was like. Being a Sun Elf aboard a ship headed to the Isle of the Sun, she expected this. Unfortunately, this trip was as new to her as it was to the rest of them and she would politely say as much. She was never unfriendly or rude. She did, however, prefer to keep her own counsel and others respected that.

And so she stood, parasol in hand, smiling at some cosmic joke only she knew the punchline to. Normally, a parasol would make a poor umbrella, but the rain seemed to slide right off. In fact, the rain didn’t seem to touch Syl’s parasol; a closer look showed the droplets glide away, within a millimeter of contacting the fabric. It wasn’t even wet.

"By my reckoning, you got forty, maybe fifty minutes up here before the storm cracks us a new one,” the captain said to a rather well-dressed young man, while the Sun Elf woman stood hardly ten feet away. “When it comes, you better be in the hull. Customer poleacy. Now bugger off, I have a ship to sail."

The passenger took his leave, while Syl remained, unfazed. Silence returned… well, as silent as any ship entering stormy seas could be. Save the crashing of waves, the hiss of spray, and the dozen or so deckhands wrestling with the mainsail, it was actually rather peaceful.

“Thirty minutes by my reckoning, but I defer to your greater experience, captain,” Syl said, long after the words had lost context. She turned to face him. “Permission to spend the other twenty-nine of them here, captain, or must I retire below decks immediately? I do not wish to be difficult, but I prefer the company of wind and rain over the company of seasick, wave-weary individuals, sealed in a dank room, and left to fear the worst.” She thought for a moment. "Though that dwarven girl's music is some small consolation... but, alas, even that light has dimmed."

 

Uyrl sat in his bunk, a small tome open on his lap. Symbols and glyphs littered the pages in symmetrical two-by-two grid layouts - his life's work. He flicked through the pages carefully, processing individual shapes, curvatures, the thickness of lines, anything that might have a link to the stone that lay next to him. But nothing came to mind. He picked up the stone for the hundredth time that day and stared at the symbols carved into it. This was most definitely different from anything he'd discovered before - he could find nothing to suggest a connection, and that gave him a thrill. Uyrl then took an instrument from his pocket and held it up to his eye. The quartz magnified the carved lettering on the ancient stone for the hundredth time that day. Then the music stopped.

Uyrl had been enjoying the dwarf girl's melodies for the past couple of weeks. She was young, but definitely talented, and he had never seen a dwarf so passionate about music before. Then he heard her speak to the dark elf in the cabin next door. It was very easy to hear things through the walls of the Kamela, and Uyrl had been able to find out much about his fellow travellers without even speaking to most of them. The dark elf was a particularly curious one. He kept mostly to himself and his books, just like Uyrl.

"... I myself am hoping to do more research on the history of Hanavar. Iria in particular..."

Now that was interesting, thought Uyrl. The dark elf wanted to go to Iria. Uyrl's expedition team had recently completed a trip to Iria, which was, to his disappointment, their last trip. Most of his cohorts were older than Uyrl, and had decided that it was time to retire. But there was still so much to do, and they were so close to their goal - he could just feel it. Maybe it was time to put together a new team. Yes, he would find what he needed to in Morolith, and then head back to Iria with more youthful companions, those who had a thirst for history, and wanted to make something of themselves.

Then some commotion started. A girl was yelling. Uyrl put down his tome and pocketed his magnifying glass. He went to the door of his cabin and peaked out down the hall.

 

Caleb tilted his head in front of The Bard’s behavior.

“I wonder why she is so angry…” said to himself. He didn’t mind the fact that he was splashed as well, more likely, he didn’t realize it.

“Could it be that she is scared of the incoming storm?”

“Well it doesn’t matter…” Continued always with a high tone, as if it were to be a necessity for him to be heard.

Steady and smoothly his body moved through the people.

“But… what a colorful cast we have here. Their performance is nice, their chatting entertaining, their behaviors a wonder!” Stated while rising his arms to the ceiling.

His ears caught a sound, a door being opened. His eyes moved to the direction and saw the mid aged dwarf with a tome on his hands looking through the gap of the door. Judging by his appearance he seemed to be a scholar or something like that.

Caleb smiled, scholars were a source of knowledge and that’s something he valued, and something he needed.

“A bard dwarf and now and scholar dwarf? And here I thought most dwarfs grew only for war and blacksmithing.” Said not to himself as usual but to the dwarf. However… The voice came from behind the dwarf, inside the very same cabin the dwarf was in. It wasn’t sure if in the small span of seconds the dwarf was peeking through the door he noticed his presence, but, were he had done it he would realize that the figure of Caleb suddenly melted and vanished. The same figure who was speaking now behind him.

 

Uryl turned around to see a man in his cabin. He certainly hadn't been there before. The dwarf raised one thick eyebrow.

"Aye, you're not wrong there. Most of us have found our place in this world using our muscle." Uryl paused for a moment, looking bereaved, "But there are those who want different things," and he nodded towards the outside of the cabin, indicating Meek.

Then he quickly turned his attention back to the man in his room and folded his arms. "Now, who might you be?" Uryl asked gruffly.

 

I began to walk back to my cabin when I noticed some poor guy huddled in the corner, looking ready to lose his... well... everything. A thought occurred to me, I had a few potions to help with nausea in my room. I had kept them for personal use, in case I did get sea sick. Thankfully, I was more or less fine with the constant rocking of the ship. Maybe I could make a liiiittle bit of money while I'm here...

I walked up to the man. "Excuse me fine sir, I couldn't help but notice that you're feeling ill, I may have something that could help." I said. God I hope I didn't look too shady... leather boots, plain black trousers and tunic, and a black hooded cape... well... at least I didn't have my scythe. But the look did help deter not-so-bright bandits who think a man dressed like this with a scythe could potentially be either an omen of death, or death itself. So I kind of bought only this kind of clothing. "I'm Joe, alchemist extraordinaire!" I said, grinning, hoping to come off more friendly than creepy.

Evan raised his head at the sound of someone talking to him. He stared at the stranger for a while, before replying.
"I don't need help." Evan had always been taught not to trust magic of any kind.

"Well, no offense, but it looks like you're about to lose everything in your stomach, I have some medicine I made, I give it to those that have nausea, it should clear up your seasickness." I said, crossing my arms.

Evan sighed. This idiot obviously couldn't take a hint. Besides, why should Evan pay for medicine when he could just steal it from the alchemist, Joe, he called himself.
"I want to see the medicine before I consider buying anything," He said, using years of thieving experience to make himself sound as convincing as possible, as if he really wanted to buy it. "To make sure you're not just lying to me." The ship lurched suddenly, and Evan barely managed to snap his mouth shut and cover it with his hands to prevent himself from dirtying this strangers cape.

"Alright, you just wait here and try not to puke on some poor stranger." I said, I quickly ran off to my room, unlocking it when I arrived. I walked to the trunk in the corner and knelt in front of it. I pulled out a key from my pocket and unlocked the padlock, setting it aside. I pulled out one of the carefully wrapped glass vials, pulled the cloth from it, and then tucked the cloth into my pocket. I locked the trunk back up, walked outside, locked my door, and then returned to the man. "Here it is." I said, holding out the vial for him to see.

Evan kept his eyes fixed on the vial in the strangers hand, memorising it's shape, size and the colour of the liquid inside it.
"How do I know this will actually work?" He asked, trying to work out a way to steal the vial from the stranger, possibly as he was walking back to his room. "For all I know it's some kind of useless tea, how do I know this will actually cure me?"

"Because, if it is just tea, then we'll still be on the same boat together for a few more days, plenty of time for one to get revenge on a swindler and a thief." I said, crossing my arms. "Furthermore, if I were to be giving bad products, it would give me a bad reputation. How about this, if the medicine doesn't work, which there is a chance since this is to deal with people that are ill and dealing with nausea, I haven't used it for seasickness before, then, I'll give you a refund, sound fair?" I asked.

The deal sounded fair enough, and if he was actually considering paying for it, Evan would have jumped at the offer, but as it was, he wasn't going to spend what little money he had on a potion that he could just steal. He sighed, and rested his head against the wall of the cargo hall and closed his eyes.
"I'm not interested, go sell your magic potion to some other fellow. I have no desire for it."

"It's not a 'magic' potion, no magical ingredients were made with it, it's just some simple medicine that was made through alchemy." I said, shrugging. "Furthermore, you haven't even heard a price." I said, I crossed my arms. "Just twenty bronze." I said, it was quite cheap for medicine I couldn't very well charge him a huge amount while we've been on a ship for a month, and when he seems so miserable. Plus, if the medicine works well, he might suggest me to others once we reach the island.

The medicine was cheap; even cheap enough for Evan to afford it, but still, why should he pay for something he could easily steal? Evan opened his eyes and looked up at the man offering the medicine. He looked younger than Evan himself by a few years at least, and something about him almost reminded Evan of himself, though he wasn't sure what. Evan stood, and found himself a few inches taller than Joe.
"I told you," He said, getting annoyed at Joe's persistence. "Go find someone else willing to buy it."

"Oh fine." I said, I pulled out the cloth and wrapped the vial up and slipped it into my pocket, then I turned and began walking away, a little slower than I did before. Probably just because I wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere...

Evan moved slowly after Joe, his feet making next to no noise on the wooden floor of the ship, his dark clothing blending in with the shadows. He kept my eyes fixed on the pocket that the vial was in, and slowly moved closer and closer behind Joe. When he was close enough, he stretched out his arm, his long, nimble fingers reaching for his pocket...

He suddenly felt a firm grip on his wrist. "Man, you do not think at all, do you?" I asked, finally turning around to face him with an annoyed expression on my face. "You couldn't even take a hint, such as we're stuck on this ship for the next few days, a swindler or a thief would easily be tracked down." I said, I got the thief vibe from him, I thought he'd pull something like this after his strange behavior.

It would be one thing to deny purchasing medicine without any possible way of getting his money back from a questionable stranger. However, the medicine was cheap, he had a money back guarantee if it didn't work, if something funny happened to him as a result from the medicine, there were plenty of people that must've seen me talking to him, and there would be no way for me to escape from him, as I pointed out earlier, we'd be stuck on this ship for a few more days. Everything about his refusal to even consider it screamed suspicious. So, I kept him in the corner of my eye, almost lost him a few times. He was pretty good, but stealth becomes nearly useless once someone knows that you're going to pull something and keep an active eye on you...

"I prefer the term larcenist," Evan said, smiling patronisingly "It sounds so much grander than being called 'thief', don't you think?" He twisted his wrist free of Joe's grip, hoping Joe wouldn't grab it again. Evan knew well enough that in confined spaces such as a ship, there was no good running once you've been caught.
"Evan Major, at your service," He said, still smiling but with sarcasm lacing his words. "Finest cat-burglar, prowler, stickup artist, whatever you want to call it, where I come from."

"I see." I said simply, crossing my arms and appraised the thief. "You know, it's quite rude to try and steal something from a merchant that isn't trying to screw you over with overpriced snake oil." I said with an annoyed tone. "You know, some punish thieves by taking a hand from them, if you try this again, I may have to introduce you to my scythe, it's just been itching to meet someone again." I said, not that I'd actually take his hands... but I'd definitely kick his ass.

Evan narrowed his eyes. Did this man, no, hardly more than a child, think he could intimidate him?
"If you think you can scare me with petty threats, you're very mistaken," He said, lowering his voice and staring hard at Joe with his piercing blue eyes, using his height to make himself seem more intimidating. "I've stolen from richer and finer merchants than yourself countless times. I've been faced with the noose and escaped," He crossed his arms and continued on praising himself, grossly exaggerating the times he'd been threatened and fought people. "I've fought with royal guards and won. If you think I'd be intimidated by someone like you threatening to take one of my hands, you're very mistaken," He repeated what he said earlier. He glared at Joe for a little while longer, before putting on the bright and happy persona he had before.
"Well, it was lovely doing business with you, er, Joe. I'll be going now." He turned on his heel to head back to where he had been sat before.

I just gave him a cold look throughout the whole conversation. "Sure, whatever you say, oh 'great larcenist'." I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice, I didn't believe him in the slightest. Anyone can say that they've done far more impressive feats than they really had. I rolled my eyes and walked away. If he tried this again, I'd toss his ass overboard. I put my hands in my pockets and kept a firm hold of the vial I had brought out... no use in putting it away... there were others that were feeling seasick... perhaps that lady bard would be more interested in my deal than that low-life thief.

 

Captain Issac

“Thirty minutes by my reckoning, but I defer to your greater experience, captain,” Syl said, long after the words had lost context. She turned to face him. “Permission to spend the other twenty-nine of them here, captain, or must I retire below decks immediately? I do not wish to be difficult, but I prefer the company of wind and rain over the company of seasick, wave-weary individuals, sealed in a dank room, and left to fear the worst.”

These passengers were all idiots. Why in blazes would anyone want to stay topside for a storm? The only reason they were plunging head first into danger was for payment, quick easy payment. In years gone by Issac had sailed in numerous storms and had always come out the lucky one, while his friends and crew were swallowed by the blue. It irked him greatly that these passenger actually wanted to stay on deck. They were his cargo. If he could of he would of strapped them up like the rest of the crates in the hull. Instead they were all trying to kill themselves, which really pissed him off.

He sighed heavily, not giving enough of a care to turn and face Syl, "Have you got a bloody death wish or some'ing?" He stared hard at the looming clouds and spat back to her, "35 minutes. Now stay up here if you like but utter one more word and I'll have Mumbles escort you downstairs."

He smiled under his Captain's hat at the thought. Mumbles was a mountain of a man with tattoos that covered his dark black skin, bushy dreadlocks on top of his head and a goofy grin with numerous gold teeth. Funnily enough he also hailed from Kemet, but he was no noble, that was for sure, and he spoke the common tongue poorly. Yet even as an uneducated grunt, he had a certain philosophical nature about himself. Only one of the few crew who kept a level head. Plus he was a great work engine and that's all that really mattered.

 

Shango

Shango jumped back when the Bard's sick bucket went flying, but a little vomit speckled the front of his beautiful crimson robes. He stared down at the gross stains in disbelief and then frowned at the Bard before wordlessly sweeping out of the room. A sudden wind swirled around him, but he hardly noticed as he made his exit.

He headed to his own small quarters and quickly stripped off his robes without shutting the door behind him. His body was thin and powerful, wiry muscles just beneath the surface. He slipped on another crisp, clean robe of the same bright red color and smoothed out the front, sighing with relief that he was now dressed in unsullied clothing.

Shango stood still for a moment. listening to the others speaking down the hall. He was beginning to think that Kemetites were the only civilized people in all the lands. But then he thought, Well, then it is my job as Prince to set a shining example for them to follow! With a bright smile he retrieved his staff from where he had leaned it against the wall and headed back to rejoin the others.

 

Meek and Shango

As Shango left his quarters to rejoin the others he nearly tripped over small female dwarf hurrying across his path.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Meek demanded, light brown eyes glaring up at him, small fists resting on her hips. "Honestly you humans got a complex about never looking where your feet are going. Always got your nose in the clouds."

Shango jumped back and his warm amber-colored eyes went wide in shock and embarrassment. "I am so sorry!" he blabbered. "I didn't see you there! My apologies...Meek, is it? I think I heard someone else call you that." He bowed slightly and smiled his most charming smile. "Shango Ka, at your service," he said politely.

Meek raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? You're apologizing to a dwarf?" She contemplated him for a moment then added. "I'm starting to have higher hopes for the human race. Yeah, my name is Meek. So, what's got your head in the clouds? The storm?"

Shango looked mildly offended. "Of course I'm apologizing!" he cried out. "I don't see a dwarf when I look at you, I see a person, just like me or Captain Isaac. Well, not so much Captain Isaac. He's not as fair as you, by a long shot." Shango chuckled lightly. "I was raised to treat everyone equally and not to judge by appearances. Where I'm from there are still a lot of people who treat dwarves unkindly, but my parents are working to change that."

Fearing that he had said to much about himself, Shango rushed on to say, "Oh, yes, the storm, it's amazing, isn't it? I've never been in a storm at sea before. It's like I'm in an epic story, or something like that. I've never been in a boat or even talked to a dwarf before. This is all very new to me." I cherish every moment." He smiled dreamily and clasped his hands over his heart.

Meek stared at him curiously. "You're gonna be one of those odder people in this story arn't you? Hmm, bet you've got an odd background too. Don't you?"

Shango tried to laugh nonchalantly but it came out nervous and shaky. "Oh, you're such a kidder, Meek!" He patted her on the shoulder and quickly changed the subject. "What about you Meek? Where do you come from? Why are you going to the Isle? And what a fine violin you have..." He trailed off, his eyes shifting back and forth as he tried to keep up his cheery facade.

"Nope." She shook her head resolutely. "I asked first!"

Shango stopped laughing and gave her a long look. "Alright, you're too smart for me. I'm really..." He looked around to make sure no one was snooping, but even though he couldn't see anyone, he still wasn't sure. That Caleb guy was pretty slippery--he almost disapeared if you didn't look at him directly, and sometimes he was still pretty hard to keep track of. So Shango closed his eyes, concentrated fiercely and waved his hand, and the wind spun around himself and Meek in a protective bubble. It wouldn't last long, so Shango bent down and whispered to Meek, "I am the Prince of Kemet." Then he stood up and the wind bubble popped with a soft poof sound. "So, I've told you my dirty little secret. Tell me about you."

It was Meek's turn to laugh. "A Prince? You? Ho, if this is true, your humans must be desperate for a leader." She chuckled, holding her stomach. "Sorry, that's harsh, I know..but...you're just too odd."

"Do not worry, I understand what you mean," Shango remarked, snorting with bubbly mirth. "I find most of you to be on the insane side of the normal spectrum."

"And though you are odd, you are pleasant. For a human." Meek smirked. "Enjoy your storm. Something tells me its going to be far from pleasant."