|
|
Post by Leilatha on Feb 10, 2017 15:32:42 GMT
The Eastern Sea
Everywhere she looked was grey.
The sea rolled and pitched beneath them, waves blowing off cold spray that would soak and freeze down to the very bone if it were not for the oilskins that had been offered her upon departure from the White Tower. Grey leaden clouds were scudded across the sky, releasing an endless downpour of hard and heavy rain over all they passed. Not a single glimmer of the sun had been seen through the grey haze, creating the illusion of constant twilight that confused the division between sea, sky and clouds upon the horizon.
The captain had explained to her that there was no indication of their location, no sun to steed by, no sight of land, no sea birds circling above them and as yet no sign of other ships upon the horizon. To all aboard there was only their own little world, a glistening jewel cutting its way through the bleak grey surrounds.
Sgiagthatch En’Asur was the name that was etched down the hull of this sanctuary, fine and flowing script of bright gold indicating the Elves Dragonship’s craftsmanship beyond the belief of many shipwrights. The white wood of it’s hull glowed against the grey sea, a brilliant colour in a world of colourless nothing. Sails of a deep blue that seemed to only, despite the absence of sunlight allow the silver design embroidered upon them glitter and sparkle.
In the common tongue the ship was called Dragon of Asur, a fine name that made note of any true intent from the crew of elves that moved across the deck clad in thick, blue and white oilskins. They moved with precision and a calmness that could only be the motions of one who had spent their life at sea. It was here, upon the stern of the ship that Leilatha stood.
Her face was illuminated by magical lanterns that hung from finely crafted pillars across the stern, the deep orange glow of nearby open braziers warming her even if her blood would allow no cold to touch her soul. Her cloak was of white, silver and the same deep blue of the ship that carried her, strangely dry considering the downpour from above. In her hand she still clenched the parchment, it’s words already fading. She would not allow it to be forgotten.
Alongside Leilatha stood the captain of the Dragonship, Elessehta. His attire similar to that of the female mage, only more intricate and baring sigils of waves and ocean dragons, it marked him out as a boatsman, a sea elf as they were more commonly known. He had until now ceased conversation with his passenger instead turning his attention to the form of his craft cutting through the waves beneath them. The insistence that she would find better comfort in the confines of the under quarters long abandoned, he had experienced her stubbornness and learned from it.
Soon they would change course, south and then back west to make landfall near the opening of the Calrou river, where the ocean spills into the land. There would be the chance for trade to be done and more importantly information to be gathered. Many of the fishing villages would scrabble at the opportunity to do trade with the Sea Elves and if they could acquire just some items from the lost Elven civilisation any man would be made in riches for their lifetime. The Dragon of Asur however would not linger long. Leilatha had other, more pressing matters down river.
|
|
|
|
Post by Brylen the Hook on Feb 12, 2017 14:59:38 GMT
The Zatarra was an uglier boat than the Elf-ship on the horizon. Splintered and salt-stained, with a lone lateen sail and no shelter from the elements, the Zatarra was barely more than a fishing sloop. It held a dozen sellsword raiders, no more. On the open sea, it didn't have a prayer of taking down that Elf-ship.
But this job's boss had been mercifully specific: There's an Elf-ship coming down the coast. Find it but keep your distance. When it puts into shore for supplies or goes upriver, move in. I'll give you a package to help. Kill or bind the elves or drive them off. Keep the ship as intact as possible.
Brylen felt the weight of that parcel at his belt: a tightly sewn leather sack that hissed and sloshed like fine sand. Harcu, the helmsman, had a touch of weather-magic, and he said he smelled death in the bag. Better believe Sir Brylen the Hook would be expending that parcel at the earliest practical opportunity.
As the Elf-ship made for the mouth of the river, Harcu grunted and shifted the tiller. Brylen set aside his war-pick and adjusted the lateen sail to match the new angle of the wind. The Zatarra followed its big, probably nasty prey.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince Ineirin on Feb 12, 2017 22:34:26 GMT
After their stop in Perona, the Aerlion entourage had sailed East along the coast-line before turning North, towards Elbion. They wished to stop at all the Free Cities before heading homewards after having made their presence known even to the most distant edges of Ardell. There was not a city on the continent's coast that Aerlion ships could not reach and it was intended for such a fact to be known. Not necessarily a threat, but perhaps something of comfort to the city-states that were scattered across the landscape. To be friends with Aerlion meant their fleet could come as aid, should the need arise. But it was a grim day at sea, and Ineirin wrapped his cloak tighter around his body as he stood atop the desk. Wind and salty spray spat and stung at his face, blowing his hair fast behind him. Gwythion stood beside him while Captain Dylan stood beside him at the helm. Rain pelted hard around the deck of the ship, but the sailors went about their business, shortening sail and keeping careful eyes to the seas around them. They knew where they were going. Captain Dylan had the Sea-Blood- so he knew which way was which and how the water around them surged and frothed. He held the ship steady, adjusting the tiller as the Sea Star dipped and rose with the waves. Ineirin frowned and squinted through the gloom to the distance. The pounding of surf against shore rumbled in his feet, marking where the Sea-King's authority ended. While his power could travel up rivers, it was weak there and often contested. But the Sea-Blood held true, albeit with less effectiveness. He could see a ship ahead- large and bright. Details were impossible to discern through the storm, but it puzzled him. It appeared a fisherman was calling it quits in the weather some distance behind them as well. "Captain," Ineirin said, sheltering his eyes with his hand. "Is that another of our ships that I see ahead?" "It appears so, m'lord," the captain spoke, heaving on the tiller to bring the great ship about, "Though I heard no word in Perona of our ships having sailed this far East in some time." Ineirin pursed his lips thoughtfully as he considered. "Indeed. If we over-take them, we shall hail them and sail in together. If not, we shall meet when we dock." He strode to the rail, leaning against it as he peered through the gray day. The Sea-King was not in a fine mood today. What might have caused such a change in his demeanor? Had he been offended by someone? Ineirin had been thorough in ensuring all the necessary things were done for a smooth journey. But such was the Sea-King. He was tempestuous and often indifferent. That was a truth that sailors simply needed to accept. Another spray of sea-water splashed up against the hull, drenching him with spray. They'd be docked soon enough and out of the weather. That was a pleasant thought. Brylen the Hook Leilatha
|
|
|
|
Post by Leilatha on Feb 13, 2017 18:25:18 GMT
Elessehta had allowed the Dragon of Asur out of the white washed squall into the far calmer waters of the deeper trade passages, long used by the Elves for passage between the north and the south. On a good day, with the right wind a Dragonship could travel twice the distance of a similarly sized craft in these calm waters. It is what made the old Elves such a naval power in their prime, it is what allowed them to protect what little was still under their influence now. Looking out from the helm of the craft Leilatha could finally make sight of the horizon, the weather that had made itself so very known during their departure from the White Tower had finally subsided, the great grey clouds travelling further and further behind them as the sleek ship cut through water so still that it presented the perfect mirror image of the Dragon of Asur beneath it like a second world that lay just upon the lapping ocean. “Herdir,” Delicate Elvish words floated from the base of the command bridge as one of the blonde haired sailers proceeded to advance. “Gir Teleth.” “Tir- hain.” Elessehta responded to the sailer, his own head turning to take in the small boat that had approached them through the storm. An elf needed no spy-glass or scouts to see the details of their pursuers, their eyes would do that alone for them. “Please, common tongue.” Leiletha requested towards the pair. “It is not a pleasant sound I know, but we all must practice before we make landing.” Elessehta looked less then pleased at the request, a steely look glanced sidewards towards the younger female Loremaster, clearly second guessing his assignment to her. “As you please.” “By their appearance they have been following us for some time.” The veteran Sea-Elf pointed out the state of their sails, “See the way the sail flicks, it is not poor maintenance that causes that but fresh abuse. They are also glistening with water stain above and below, they braved the storm as we did.” “Are they local fishermen perhaps?” Leiletha asked, innocently enough. Surely a boat of that size could easily be from one of the many fishing villages and probably tried to close the gap to insure that had the storm claimed them they had someone to rescue their boat and livelihoods. “Or just another lost boat surely hostility…” “I doubt it Loremaster.” Already several Elves had removed themselves from their duties and had taken a line across the stern of the Dragonship, bows now in their hands after being removed from their leave and skin pouches that were designed to keep the strings dry. “Not by the way the sail. We shall take precautions.” The archers knew they were out of bow range, even for an Elf. That didn’t stop their guard though, those Elves would remain there until commanded, arrows trained at the small craft should it come closer. The other craft, of a larger variety had appeared to them. The Dragon of Asur knowing that it lay after their intended dock, yet close enough to cause issues should it be an enemy of the High Elves. As such they felt the best course of action would be to speed up and simply race it to the river, hopefully as they got closer they would be able to determine it’s identity more so then the heraldry of Aerlion that was detailed on their masts. The sea-faring nation was known to the Asur and in fact held in high regard for their ability on the water, yet Elessehta had warned that perhaps not to assume as much yet for he found it odd for the ships of such a fleet to be alone so far East. Instead he had ordered for more speed and made with haste towards the shoreline and the hopefully open river passage. Prince IneirinBrylen the Hook
|
|
|
|
Post by Brylen the Hook on Feb 13, 2017 19:48:58 GMT
Prince Ineirin LeilathaBetween the two of them, Harcu and Brylen wrestled the Zatarra toward the mouth of the river. The Elf-ship was picking up speed at a phenomenal rate, far more than the appropriated sloop could match, but with luck the Zatarra would prove to have the shallower draft. The Calrou River was deep and wide, but the occasional mudbar or snarl of driftwood could slow a deep-keeled vessel. With luck and local acumen, they might yet catch up with the Elves. That much Harcu and Brylen could work out with a few grunts and general reading of each other's intentions; they'd sailed together for a bit. Of more concern, and the subject of more discussion, was the Aerlion ship bearing down from the south. If it followed the Elf-ship and the Zatarra west into the river, it might trap the raiders between itself and the Elves. In a circumstance like that, the little sloop's presumably superior maneuverability might come into play. In the worst case, the raiders could probably reach one of the river-banks and hightail it to safety before either of the big ships could come about. But that would mean disappointing the hiring authority, which sounded about as conducive to one's continued health as tackling two full ships' worth of men and elves with only a dozen raiders. Though the Zatarra wasn't yet within bowshot of the Elf-ship, Brylen could see the glints of arrowheads on the rear deck. More than a few of the raiders had nocked arrows too. One fired, foolishly; the arrow made it about halfway there before plopping into the river.
|
|
|
|
Post by Prince Ineirin on Feb 25, 2017 0:02:58 GMT
Brylen the Hook Leilatha ---------- "Captain," Ineirin said after a moment, watching the two vessels the best he could from the pitch and sway of the ship, its two masts rising and falling with the waves. "Did that look like an attempt to loose an arrow to you?" "Aye, m'lord," Dylan answered quietly, hands adjusting the wheel. The ship moved closer to shore. "It appears those are not fishermen." "Quite," Ineirin mused and to turned to the first mate. "Beat to quarters. Should they move against us, I want the men prepared to fight in our defense. Captain, bring us in towards shore and prepare to set course up-river. I had anticipated a quiet voyage to Elbion, but so it appears I have been wrong." He removed his boots and gauntlets, handing them to Gwythion. "I shall get us a current." He strode to the edge of the carrack, bare feet calloused on the wood deck, and grabbed a coil of rope. He looped it around the rail and tied a knot, with the rest in his hand or looped around his waist. While the first mate drummed out orders to the soldiers to prepare for action, Ineirin stepped over the edge. He fell, but caught himself with the rope and let himself descend until he skimmed the water. The Sea-Blood raced as it came into contact with the water. Ineirin grinned and dipped his hand into the water. The cold shocked his hand for a moment and it went cold. He ignored it, however, and closed his eyes. The water spread before him and he could feel its movement like a dance that he was in the middle of. Currents wove themselves together, like a beautiful tapestry while underneath, he sensed greater currents. He called to the waters on the surface, urging them to come to him and push forwards. The ship lurched forward at the increase in speed and he swung from his rope. Their speed continued to build as the water answered his call. It would last them until they reached the river. Ineirin reached up and grabbed the rope, hauling hand over hand. Strong arms gripped his shoulders and helped him back over the rail. He recollected his clothes from Gwythion and wrapped his hand in his cloak. Soldiers stood near the rails, javelins and crossbows at the ready. Gwythion disappeared below and returned shortly with Ineirin's helm, sword, and shield. The prince buckled them on and stood beside the captain. The ship crested another wave and slowed as it caught the river's current, but continued forward into the smoother waters. "Stay alert," Ineirin called forward to the rest of the men, "We don't know what might yet happen."
|
|
