There are those who call me... Flynn. [Invite on Request]

[sophos]

Some Time Ago... at a Ramshackle, Temporary Port-Town Like What Pirates Put Up Sometimes.

As Roland's employer made a mad dash from the card table, and through a window. Roland was once again left with the task of cleaning up the boss' mess.

Roland flipped the table as he lumbered to his feet,  scattering cards and coins across the tavern floor. As the crowd scrambled for the loosest of change, he lurched to the recently broken window and leapt outside.

His left boot fell upon a softer, higher plane than his right. He sighed, let his head hang, and lifted his left boot to reveal a leather bound journal with the words: "My True Adventures" branded upon it.

They would have to leave town soon. But Roland hadn't the means nor patience to track down his employer, and Massimo always had a way of finding him when he was needed anyway. Roland picked up the journal and made his way across the street, where another tavern awaited him.

Roland sat at the bar, pointed at a bottle, and opened the journal to a random page:

[massimo scaffaldi]

...are defined by most scholars as "ugly" and "without sound judgement".  These peasants meant well though and I graciously accepted their praise with a begrudged smile upon my very masculine and rugged face.  I left the odoriferous village for another settlement that would benefit from my presence as the citizens graced my departure with ranks of men shouting praise and raising torches high in my honor.  Though their lives may have been blessed by my arrival, they must certainly be cursed by my departure.

Tis a bright day today, my ward Roland and I have stumbled across a town in dire need of my assistance.  I selflessly threw myself to their aid as we entered the settlement of Hopelesstown...

The town was a mass of dismal faces and poor unkempt fellows wallowing in self pity and poverty.  Streets ran rampant with vermin and dwarves scampering for morsels left behind by much taller folk.  Rain poured heavily save for a few meters from my person, washing the countryside away in streams of unsightly colored muck much like these people's tears have washed away all the joy from their faces.  "THESE... PEOPLE... ARE IN NEED OF A... SAVIOR."  The Mighty Flynn gripped tight the hilt of his sword PYROCLASM and glared at the sky for a moment.  "Well gosh Master, where in the world are we gonna find someone like that?"  As if the world itself struck at the sky, the clouds parted at The Mighty Flynn's gaze.  He placed his hand upon his ward's unsightly head and softly spoke.  "HE HAS... ALREADY... ARRIVED."

[sophos]

Roland clapped the journal shut but his eyes continued dance between two, slanted brows. For a moment he was grateful to be mute, for any words he could have used would've been a waste of breath.

Roland set the journal aside; in favour of a bottle of rum, which he upturned and half emptied.

Was that other character supposed to be me? Roland's thoughts inquired as he covered his eyes with his left palm and massaged either temple with his thumb and middle finger.

Roland picked up the journal once more and returned to the offending page:

[massimo scaffaldi]

I would save this town from its woes, for if I could not save it, then it was truly a hopeless town.  Come to think of it, Hopelesstown is a reasonable name to call a town with as little hope as this one.  Was it always this hopeless, or simply renamed due to the newly acquired hopelessness.  More to the point, I was there now.  And it was about to get hopeful.  I took in the ghastly stench of the town and burned it deep into my memory...

Among the shattered people, there were no end of thieves and miscreants sewing discord in the for of petty theft and throwing sharp sticks.  Truly, this town was in need of justice.  From behind, The Mighty Flynn could hear a sharp squeal of delight.  Twas the fair maiden Claire, whom had once again followed Flynn in her quest for his affections.  "The Mighty Flynn, I have traveled far to once again proclaim my love for you!"  The Mighty Flynn turn mighty slow in her direction to address her as any noble hero addresses a fair maiden.  "GREETINGS... FAIR MAIDEN CLAIRE, I... DID NOT... SEE YOU THERE."  She lept high and buried her face in his calf and hugged him as if she had not seen him in ages.  "Oh The Mighty Flynn, tell me we will be wed someday."  He looked down upon the fair maiden dangling from his leg and spoke in a quiet seductive tone.  "FORGIVE ME, I... DID NOT HEAR YOU... DOWN THERE."  She looked up lovingly at his response.  "Oh The Mighty Flynn, you are the strongest and most noble hero in the world.  I am willing to bet you came all this way to slay the evil wizard that plagues this poor unsightly town."  The Mighty Flynn jerks his head to the right and stares forbodingly into the sky.  "THIS TOWN... IS INDEED... POOR AND UNSIGHTLY."

  In a less than impressive explosion of smoke and fire, a cloaked figure made his presence known to the trembling townsfolk.  "It is I, the evil wizard Diabolaclese.  I have come to spread my evil wizard magic to all corners of this poor unsightly town." The Mighty Flynn flung the fair maiden Claire to a safe distance with a violent flex of his leg and stood firm against the shadowy evil wizard.  "SO... THE EVIL WIZARD... DIABOLACLESE... DARES TEST... THE MIGHTY...FLYNN."  The evil wizard turned his gaze on the imposing The Mighty Flynn.  "You have heard of me then, then you should know that I have all the evil wizard magics at my command."  The Mighty Flynn scoffed at the wizard's boast.  "YOUR MAGIC... IS A DEAD ART.  I WILL NOT... LIE DOWN... SO EASILY.  YOU COULD FLING YOUR SPELLS UPON... ME... UNTIL YOU... EXPIRE.  OF CORPSE, THAT WOULD BE A... GRAVE... MISTAKE.  FOR I... WILL... KILL... YOU.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND... OR WAS I TOO... CRYPTIC."  The evil wizard shuddered at his response.  "Your wit is legendary The Mighty Flynn, but it is you who will be killed.  I swear by the evil wizard god himself."

[sophos]

A growl formed deep in Roland's throat but the heavy, airy hiss that escaped his clenched teeth was dissatisfying to him. The rest of the tavern, however, found it unnerving enough.

Roland finished the bottle of rum as he contemplated what the other pages may contain. The journal was easily over a hundred pages. Roland shuddered at the thought and spilled the last bit of the rum on his collar.

Roland brought the bottle to the table with a loud clack, but kept a hold on it. He turned the page with his other hand and continued reading:

[massimo scaffaldi]

This wizard was foolish to challenge me on my own holiday, such insolence would not be ignored.  To him perhaps, any day was a good day to beckon the gods themselves to strike him down.  Needless to say, there was nothing that he could ask of them that I couldn't deliver much faster and with a glorious presentation...

"ROLAND... MY WARD, STAND BACK.  HE INVOKES THE... NAME OF... THE EVIL WIZARD GOD... HIMSELF."  Roland scurried behind a overturned cart and trembles.  "Should we not flee master?"  The Mighty Flynn turns to the sky again for a moment before making his statement amidst the quaking earth.  I... WILL NOT... FLEE."  The underhanded and unsightly wizard saw his opportunity and threw a bolt of lightning toward the unsuspecting The Mighty Flynn.  The violent storm tore The Mighty Flynn's glorious cotton shirt asunder revealing his perfectly sculpted body for all to enjoy.  Women everywhere began fainting at the immaculate sculpture of perfection that was beyond anything that the gods could even dream of creating.  "YOU... FOOL!  MY PHYSIQUE CAN... NOT BE WITNESSESED... BY... THE FAIRER SEX... WITHOUT CAUSING THEM TO... FAINT... IN THE PRESENCE... OF MY... GLORY!"  The fair maiden Claire chimed in from behind the bush where she was flung.  "Dearest The Mighty Flynn, I seem to be fine."  The Mighty Flynn's gaze turned upon her.  "YOU ARE... BLINDED... BY LOVE.  YOU CAN... NOT... FULLY COMPREHEND MY... PERFECTION."  She giggles a little and returns to her bush.  "Tis true, you are so very wise."

The evil wizard laughs maniacally and boasts his terrible plan.  "Of course, I knew this was the case.  The women of this land will be so much easier to rob when they are unconscious.  I will be the richest man in existence so long as perfect chest remains bare.  Why not join me The Mighty Flynn?  Together we can be wealthy and famous."  The Mighty Flynn growled and split the earth before them.  "I... HATE... YOU!"  Daiabolaclese trembled before his might.  "Please forgive me The Mighty Flynn!"  The Mighty Flynn drew his blade PYROCLASM and held it high over his head.  "BY MY BLADE PYROCLASM, MY FURY... UNSHEATHED!"  Faster than even The Mighty Flynn could run, the evil wizard Diabolaclese prostrated himself at The Mighty Flynn's mighty feet.  "I will do anything The Mighty Flynn, please have mercy.  I surrender to your greatness."  "THEN GIVE ME... YOUR ROBE.  THEN RELEASE THE ORPHANS... FROM THEIR... CAGES."  His robe was surrendered and the orphans were evil magically removed from their cages to safety.  The Mighty Flynn stretched the robe to fit himself, covering his glorious physique once more.  The women of the land rose from their unconscious state with disappointment on their faces.  "Is there anything else I should do The Mighty Flynn?  Without my robe, I don't have the evil blessing of the evil wizard god anymore.  I am without magic."  The Mighty Flynn gazed upon the feeble groveling wretch before him.  "YOU WILL... OPEN A STORE... IN THIS TOWN.  YOU SHALL... HENCEFORTH... BE KNOWN TO ALL AS... THE NOT EVIL WIZARD PAWNBROKER... NOT DIABOLACLESE."  The not evil wizard pawnbroker not Diabolaclese rose to his feet with glee and thanked The Mighty Flynn graciously as he ran to the center of town to start his new business.  Turning his gaze to his right, The Mighty Flynn saw his trusty steed clinging to life with an arrow pierced through his chest.  The Mighty Flynn knelt beside his stalwart companion and comforted him in his final moments.  "YOU CAN DIE NOW, I... PERMIT IT."  With The Mighty Flynn's permission, the mighty moose exhaled his last breath and died with valor.  "YOU SHALL BE MOURNED IN TIME... MY... FRIEND, BUT FOR NOW... WE FEAST."

Later, at the feast.  Everyone for miles around were in attendance to witness The Mighty Flynn enjoy his well fought victory with the finest food they could provide.  The Mighty Flynn bit heartily into the succulent flank of his departed companion.  Roland stared on in confusion.  "Why are you eating your steed master?"  The Mighty Flynn swallowed the mouthful of meat before speaking.  "TIS THE GREATEST HONOR... THAT ONE CAN BESTOW... UPON A MEMBER... OF... MOOSEKIND."  Roland nodded in agreement.  "Ah yes, I had forgotten."

[sophos]

A thundering noise punctuated with splintering wood struck the tavern hard and fast as Roland threw his empty bottle through the wall in front of him. The resulting rupture climbed high and wounded a simple shelf, which buckled under the weight of several bottles and jugs.

Whoever wasn't already on their feet scrambled from their seats during the chorus of breaking glass. Every eye was on Roland-- some patrons even drew weapons-- as he forced hot, leaden breaths through a clenched maw.

Trembling? TREMBLING? He was right about the Moose, but how in the hells did he know that!? This thought made a terrible mess of Roland's composure. As far as he was aware, his employer lacked the ability to communicate with animals.

Roland's red hot thoughts blinded him momentarily to the scene unfolding around him, but the weight of the eyes he felt on his back and the fearful ones of the young bartender cooled him. Beyond that, they froze him; pained him; numbed him.

Roland drew his coin purse and tossed it to the bartender. Roland let out a sigh as he turned and walked to a corner table. The patrons gave him a wide berth as he passed by and when he arrived at the table, its two occupants made their leave.

Roland took a seat that provided a view of the whole tavern, opened the journal to a random page, and read:

[massimo scaffaldi]

To my dearest Claire,

You are the north star in my telescope guiding me home on a long voyage.
Your eyes are the color of that seashell I found that one time, but no seashell is as round as your eyes.
The things I feel for you are pleasant overall, but you should consider shaving.
My heart is aflutter whenever you're near me, unless I'm asleep or didn't notice you there.
If I had a favorite food and could rename it, I would name it Claire.
You are like a peach, you are sweet and plump with a thin layer of hair over your entire body.
I also enjoy your...

[sophos]

Why? Why am I torturing myself... Roland flipped to another page:

[massimo scaffaldi]

Through the worn veil of an illusion enchantment that hasn't stood up to the tests of time, Roland can make out what is actually written upon this page.  It was filled with a list of names and notes regarding fragments of an unspecified relic.

Heinrich Salamont:

Aboard the ship "Ardenia" there is a small casket containing a small sum in gems and the shard.  He may keep the gems as payment but must return the shard before our next departure.

Adrian Tasman:

This one is beneath a mausoleum in the gold quarter of Salva Dantorum.  It is a lively market with far too many onlookers during the day.  It will have to be excavated in a discreet manner out of sight under the cover of night.  If Adrian can't obtain the shard without drawing attention, I may have to get it myself.

Argus Veneris:

This one should have been simple enough, but the fool thought that the shard might be worth more to someone else.  He ran to the frontier with the shard in his possesion, he'll know his folly soon enough.

Recovered and stored with the rest, Argus won't be a problem anymore.

Roland Bentoncourt:

His old masters know the location, so I figure he might have some clue.  I'll inquire about it at a later date, he's seemed quite on edge lately and I would hate to put anymore strain on him.  Time in my company is taxing for many, I doubt he's any different.

Lillian "Kriss" Cross:

As I suspected, this cretin already obtained the shard and was holding out for more funds.  I would have paid a larger sum if she simply asked, but it seems she'll need to learn a hard lesson about double crossing your employers.  Pun intended.

After a short interrogation, the location was reveled and the shard was stored with the rest.

Ogre:

The loveable oaf happily handed the shard over in exchange for a shiny metal urn.  I might return to offer him a job if I ever need more muscle.

Name Unknown:

Some strange fellow was apparently boasting about the shard in a tavern.  He mentioned selling his services abroad so I'll simply have to inquire about him during my travels.  All I could conclude was that he had some skill with herbalism so I should check with local apothecary where ever I go.

Summery of acquisition:

Obtained five of the seven shards so far, the other two will have to wait until I can sever these nasty variables nipping at my heels.  Might have to convice Roland to use a more offensive solution.  It should be unnecessary.  The trail I left leads them to dead ends and more questions than answers.  I will refrain from violence if I can, though it has become harder and harder not to.  They would destroy the relics before I could have a chance to use them.  Once these fools cease their search I'll work on obtaining the last two.  I'll be moving the obtained shards to my old home town for safe keeping. 

[sophos]

Roland let out one of his growls. Dredging through all this fantastical drivel just to confirm something he had suspected since his employment; it nearly seemed like a Pyrrhic victory.

Roland put the journal in the breast pocket of his tired, old coat and awaited his employer so he could leave town. Nevermind the journal until then.

Of course, what else could he be hiding in there? The thought scurried over Roland's mind like a many-legged vermin. Soon it would become an infestation, he knew.

Roland's hand rapped against the table, under which his leg jittered and bounced. I found one thing, so I should be able to find more. Perhaps something more valuable. His head swam in such thoughts, and his better judgement drowned in them.

Roland took out the journal. He took a moment to reconsider the pain he may be subjecting himself to... and opened to a random page:

[massimo scaffaldi]

...it's really not up to me, but enough about compasses.  It's been so long since I had a good piece of cheese, it baffles me how many liquid forms these foreign lands produce.  Where I'm from, cheese is relatively hard and mild.  These are like old milk and are quite sour.  You'd think that having a trading company would entitle me to a familiar product in an exotic land, perhaps the ship rats get to it before it arrives.

No sign of any issues with the top sail today, seems those flea ridden monkeys working at that dock are not completely inept after all.  Claire would not let be keep berating the poor men for their lack of formality in the presence of their better.  Seems she has a much more tolerant attitude in the face of such slovenly wretches assuring me they won't leave their greasy handprints on my nice white sails.  Her objection does not make me any less accurate.  Hope those swindlers enjoy fixing the same boat for the next 50 years without pay.

I'm always amazed at these sea birds braving the horrors of the deep for their daily sustenance.  There are no end of deadly creatures lurking just beneath the surface feasting on anything unlucky enough to fall into the frothy abyss that they occupy.  Still these creatures manage to brave what would do them ill, and not just survive.  They thrive in their adversity and build a brighter future for them and their flock.  I suppose practice makes perfect applies to everything.

Roland snores like a slowly splitting log, I swear I heard the rudder being torn off last night.  When I went to check on it, there was Roland snoring away on the balcony staring at that damned sunset again.  When we make port, I'll look into finding a painting of a sunset for him so he can sleep in his bunk and not outside my window.  That and perhaps a muzzle.

A sizeable sum of money is missing from my stores and I can only attribute it to the large cache of liquor we have magically accumulated while I was in port for the annual merchant festival.  Someone was very clumsy and left their knife behind.  Once I find my ledger which is also missing, I'll trace the makers mark to whoever it was issued to.  We will what they have to say for themselves, or at least how well they can swim.

Our new crew member was boasting about his new tattoo today, he said it was a heart with an arrow in it.  Something about a symbol of him losing the love of his life to the sea or some such nonsense.  It looks like a set of bright red butt cheeks with an arrow keeping them closed.  It certainly isn't grounds to remove him from my employment, but he will find himself working below much more often.  The last thing I need it that peeking over at me from the main sail while I'm trying to steer.  Either that or he can wear a longer shirt or a scarf, I really don't care.  My men have a reputation to uphold after all...