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Who Goes There?

Started by Valtxr, July 18, 2017, 01:36:34 PM

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Valtxr

@wispedheart


   "Halt! Who goes there?"
   "Gizmo."
   Elan "Gizmo" Buckley stepped out of the darkness of the forest, her hands up in a playfully surrendering fashion. The campfire in the center of the three circled wagons illuminated her grin.
   Hugh Dwyer lowered the wheellock rifle. Tossed it to Elan.
   "Oh thank fucking Ansgar," Hugh said, already undoing his belt as he hurried past Elan and away from the light of the camp. "I gotta piss so fucking bad."
   "Careful not to get any on your hands."
   Hugh's voice from the darkness. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. That was one time, Giz. Cut me some sla...aaahhh, that's better..."
   Elan chuckled and sat down by the campfire. Close enough for the warmth to stave off the chill of the night, at least for one side of her body.
   Elan and Hugh had the last shift of fireguard. The other ten men in the small detachment of the Sentinel mercenary company were all asleep, some in bedrolls on the ground, others in the wagons. Friends and brothers in this new life Elan had found for herself.
   The satchel beside Elan beckoned her curiosity once more. She looked down at it. Opened it up. Set down the rifle and took out the book from inside the satchel and looked at it again. How could this be worth so much? The contact, Zacharias, paid the Sentinels quite the sum of money to retrieve it. Funny enough, the thing wasn't even guarded like Zacharias thought. It was almost anticlimatic to delve into some large ruins in the underground of the Sionad Tundra and just pick up the book and leave. But money was money. And money was also ale. And ale meant good times.
   Hugh came back and sat down by the fire next to Elan. He glanced down at the book in her hands. Arched his head back. "We're takin' bets on what's in that book, me and some of the other guys. Those chumps say it's probably some magic spells or some shit. Not me."
   "What do you think?" Elan said.
   "You first, Giz."
   "Alright. I suppose it might be tales and legends from a bygone time."
   "I dunno. That Zacharias fellow probably wouldn't have paid us that much for some stories."
   "Directions, then. Oh! Or instructions on how to construct a map to something...I don't know, something important."
   He nodded a few times. "Yeah...yeah, I could see that."
   "What's yours, Hugh?"
   "I bet it's smut."
   Elan grinned and shoved his shoulder. "Shut up!"
   "Smut. One hundred percent. You'll see."
   "You just said that you didn't think Zacharias would pay so much for stories."
   "Yeah, but you had the wrong kind of stories in mind. I knew a guy once—rich noble type—who collected nothing but smutty artwork. Paid fortunes for good ones."
   Elan laughed. "No, no, no. Shut up. There's no way."
   Hugh shrugged, but couldn't hide his own grin. "I'm just sayin'. Once somebody knows what they want, they're gonna go for it. Whatever it takes."
   "Sure, sure." Elan glanced back down at the cover of the book. A dark, greenish blue. Written in strange characters. "What language did Sango say this was?"
   "Ancient Yoreiqi. And don't ask me how he knew that 'cause he didn't say. Guess the Captain's been around."
   "I'll say."
   The fire crackled. Danced. And dawn approached.

* * * * *
   Captain Jakrii "Sango" Sangsorn rode in the lead wagon, the reins in his hands. The evergreen trees of the Niahi Woods passed by slowly. The sunlight of the clear afternoon filtered down through the forest.
   Elan Buckley sat next to him in the driver's seat. Whittling, as she usually did on these long wagon rides. Her tongue occasionally poking out of her mouth as her knife peeled a particularly difficult curve or angle in the wood.
   Sango glanced over. She was talented, no doubt about that. Could stand to work on her marksmanship some more, sure, but that wasn't what she brought to the table for the Sentinels. You needed your gun tuned? You talked to Elan. You needed your armor fixed? You talked to Elan. Injury? Talk to Elan. The woman had a mind for tradecrafts. She already knew gunsmithing, and it didn't take her long at all to become proficient in blacksmithing, leatherworking, and first aid. She made a hell of an armorer and quartermaster.
   Some women joined merc companies like the Sentinels because the Connlaothian military wouldn't take them, unless they had a form of Mordecaism. A smaller and newer company, Sango's Sentinels numbered a close-knit thirty-three in total, two of which—Elan included—were women. Christine, the other woman, joined for all the same reasons that most of the men did: a sense of adventure, brotherhood, thrill of combat, and what have you. Elan, on the other hand, seemed to have something else in mind. She certainly seemed to enjoy the companionship of the Sentinels and contributing to the team, but Sango suspected that there was something else. The woman had a mind for crafting and creating, and, while she learned the trades quickly enough, blacksmithing and leatherworking and gunsmithing just didn't seem to cut it.
   Elan had a drive, a yearning for something unattained. Sango could sense that much about her. Problem was, like a few of the men, vice got in the way. And Elan? Hers was drinking. Sango enjoyed a good beer himself from time to time, but there needed to be a balance. It didn't affect her work. Not yet. But Sango knew that was where the path of the drunkard began. He'd seen it happen one too many times during his service in the Connlaothian military.
   And he'd rather not see it happen again.

* * * * *

   A small clearing in the forest, and there, just down the slope of the gentle hill the wagons were on, was the port town of Bluesails, one of the larger port towns in the Niahi Woods area of Le'raana. The pristine waters of the Tuor Ocean rolled in and out of the flat shoreline. Three large ships had just left port, and were sailing away to the Yoreiq Isles or perhaps to parts lesser known.
   The Sentinel convoy continued down the road and across the clearing and into town. To Sango, Bluesails was like a little Reajh. A fraction of the population, but unquestionably better scenery. The evergreens of Niahi to the east, the beautiful beach and waters of the Tuor to the west, and a mix of Connlaothian and Seren architecture in the town proper. Shame he wasn't born here, but he wouldn't hesitate to retire here when the time came.
   The wagons came to a stop on the streets of Bluesails, shops and fish markets around them. The locals paid them no mind. Travelers and adventurers were commonplace in such a busy town.
   Sango jumped down from the wagon, as did Elan and the rest of the men. They gathered around.
   "Ramon, take care of the stabling of the horses and parking of the wagons," Sango said.
   "You got it, Captain."
   "Legotti, find us an inn with enough vacancy, will you? A good one, this time."
   "Yeah, Legotti," Hugh said. "For fuck's sake, I got enough back problems."
   "That's funny," Legotti said. "Your wife said somethin' similar."
   Most of the men laughed.
   "Alright, lock it up, gents," Sango said. "Millor, I need you to check in with the port authority. See where Zacharias' ship'll be arriving tomorrow."
   "Understood, Captain."
   "Well then, as for the rest of you, you're dismissed until tomorrow. If you get lost or don't know which shitty inn Legotti found for us, just find Ramon at the northern stables. I'll coordinate with him. Now, enjoy your time in beautiful Bluesails, gents."
   And as the men began to disperse, Sango kept an eye on Elan. Watched her go.

* * * * *

   Elan smiled when she saw it. A tavern, named The Tap, built right next to a brewery. They were practically the same building. Talk about fresh.
   She and Hugh and a couple of the men went in. Had the place mostly to themselves, thanks to all the ships leaving port earlier. Got a nice table by one of the windows. And they were three rounds of ale in when Captain Sangsorn found them.
   Elan raised her mug as Sango approached, a sloppy grin on her face. She had an arm around Hugh's shoulders, leaning into him, her hat askew on her head.
   "'Ey, everybody, give it up for ol' Sango!" Elan said. "Isn't he a jolly good fellow?"
   "'Ey, Captain!" said Hugh and the other two Sentinels.
   Sango smiled. A mere motion of his mouth. "Causing trouble again, Elan?"
   "Me? Oh no, not me, Captain," Elan said as her mug tilted slightly in her hand and some ale splashed down on the floor. "Oops."
   Sango eyed the men. "Give us some space. I'd like to talk to Elan alone, please."
   Hugh nodded. Glanced at the two other men. "Alright, Sango. Table's yours then. Let's head up to the bar, boys."
   Hugh and the two men did just that, and Sango sat down at the table across from Elan. Folded his arms. She smiled at him. Wondered through the haze of her buzz what this was about.
   "So," he said. "Here you are again."
   Elan giggled. Reached out and touched one of Sango's arms. "I've only just found this place. Lovely, isn't it? The brewery next door is a nice touch. The ale is excellent, you really ought to—"
   "That's not what I meant."
   "Oh?"
   Sango looked at her mug. "How much have you had?'
   "A bit. I'm just getting started, really." And then she added in a sing-song voice, "Just a little buzzy buzz."
   "You don't have to do this. What would he think if he knew what you've been doing?"
   Elan's smile faded some. She knew who Sango was talking about.
   Alan. Her brother. Rest his soul.
   Sango looked down for a moment. Back up. "Do you know how many times that I, or Hugh, or Ramon, or Christine, or one of the other men had to carry you out of a tavern because you were blackout drunk?"
   "Once or twice, I'm sure. Sometimes I drink a little extra." A sheepish grin. "Sorry. About that."
   Sango shook his head. "No. Not once or twice. Frankly, Elan, I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times anymore."
   "Oh...that's...rather dreadful."
   "You could say that. Or you could do something about it." Sango leaned forward in his seat some. "Listen, I know what you're going through. The kind of life you've led. I was a slave too."
   Elan's eyes narrow. Quizzical. "You...?"
   "Yes," Sango said. "For thirteen years. But, fortunately, I was able to buy my freedom. And I was lost for a long while too before I enlisted in the military. There's a certain burden that comes with freedom. A responsibility for yourself. And you can either take ownership of your life, or you can become a slave again to the whims of fate, and just allow whatever may come to rule over you." A pause. Then he stood. "Just think about that, will you?"
   And Sango left the tavern.
   Elan thought for a while.
   Looked at the mug.
   Alan.
   She reached out her hand.
   Touched the handle.
   Are you watching me?

wispedheart

The boat rocked heavily as it came in contact with the dock. Kainalu stumbled with the motion, her wings swinging out to help keep her balance. Unfortunately, she managed to knock over another passenger in a hard feathery punch. They went down with a small groan; it seemed to be the same person that'd been heaving over the side much of the trip.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry!" Kainalu yelped in Yoreiq, bending down to them and providing support as they climbed to their feet. They'd boarded, same as she had, in Ainu, though she hadn't had much of a chance to ask a name. Not much of a chance for anything, actually. The trip itself had been more of an impulse, than anything. She'd chanced upon the sudden urge to see to find out what was out there, what was beyond the boats. She'd flown to the boat at as it was leaving, paying her fare in the fish she'd caught that day. The only other passenger that spoke Yoreiq was the very person in her arms now. Normally, she might have spoken to them, but they'd seemed much to overcome with seasickness to react.

"You'll be alright," she continued, allowing them to lean on her. "Lets get you off the boat and somewhere airy, yes?"

A simple nod was her reply, and with that assent Kainalu led them off, walking them along until they'd reached a barrel. "Here you go," she settled the Yoreiq gently atop it. "Rest here, it should pass in a while. Try to take deep breaths." Running her thumb gently over their forehead, she deemed them fine enough to leave be.

Straightening up, she walked away, rubbing her face. They had to have been a hunter. No fisherman on Yoreiq would get so quavery from a simple boatride, even if that boat was larger than the canoes they used to hunt.

Loathe as she was to leave the oceanside, the canteen of water at her waist provided some comfort, and protection, though she had no desire to have to use it. She wouldn't be straying far, after all, and a port city was a good start. A place to wander and learn, perhaps try a new thing or two.  It was for that reason she wandered the streets idly, waiting for something to catch her eye.

That "something" came in the form of a tavern, loud and boistrious. She couldn't read the name; it was in the Common tongue, but at the very least she knew enough to order a drink. Coin came ot her hands selling fish, she might as well spend it for once.

She pulled her wings close to her body as she stepped inside, finding the thin doorway a bit irksome. It was a bit dirty inside, reeking of beer and sweat and who knows what else. Swallowing in an attempt to control the sudden urge to puke, Kainalu made her way towards an empty table, settling down and flopping her wings off to either side. She had to lean forward due to the back of the chair, but she supposed that was understandable. Most people didn't have wings. Even so, with all the assorted dirt and unknown substances she was setting them in, Kainalu had no doubt she'd have to ask somebody to aid her in thoroughly cleaning them once she was home.

A loner at the table next to her caught her attention as they reached out to touch their mug. They seemed sad, in a way, and she'd intended to call out to them until a barmaid came over, asking her order. One ale put in (though she'd never tried the stuff and had reservations about actually liking it) she glanced once more at the woman. Reaching up, she brushed her bangs from her eyes. "You are alright?" she asked in the common tongue, the words thick in her mouth. Kainalu had only learned the word "are" recently, and had promptly sent her informer into a game of questions about it, so she thought she'd used it correctly. If they could understand her through the accent at all. Some couldn't.

Valtxr

   Elan glanced up from the mug. Looked straight forward. She'd heard a voice, a question, and had the vague sense that it was directed at her.
   It wasn't Hugh. He was still with the others up at the bar, laughing and joking and carrying on. So Elan looked a little more over her shoulder and saw a woman with...wings?
   A brief flash of bewilderment. Elan had never seen such a thing. She hardly traveled outside of Connlaoth, save for a few missions for her former Master, Elliot Laython, and some with the Sentinels. Wow! That truly was fascinating. Did they work? For flight? Elan had read and heard a few stories about a few different Connlaothian crafters who had each attempted to invent a flying apparatus of some sort—without magic, naturally. All failed. Were they trying to mimic these winged people here?
   The winged woman's words replayed in her mind as Elan realized she had been the one who had asked the question.
   Her hand slipped away from the handle of the mug. Let it be.
   "Oh. Yes. Quite alright. Thank you."
   Elan smiled. Stood up. Walked over and bent down some and gave the winged woman a hug. Sat down at her table. All on impulse, prompted by the ale in her stomach. The melancholy of the previous moment had faded from her mind, the compulsions of the alcohol having driven it away.
   "My name is Elan. Elan Buckley, but you can call me Gizmo if you'd like. It's so marvelous to meet you." Her eyes drifted to the woman's wings. "Forgive my intrusion, but I must ask. Where are you from? I can't say that I've ever seen a person with wings before."

wispedheart

For a moment, the other woman began to react. Kainalu feared for a second that she hadn't spoken loud enough. It was rather... boisterous in here. Or perhaps she was hard of hearing?

Her fears were quickly assuaged when green eyes met her own. For a moment, they seemed to stare at each other. She was entirely unsure what the stranger was thinking of, but Kainalu latched on to the fact that, after a life of looking at brown and black (and the occasional yellow) eyes, green was both refreshing and beautiful. The moment passed quickly, however, and the woman seemed to jerk before assuring her that she was fine. She stood then, and Kainalu's wings twitched slightly in surprise. Was she leaving?

Instead, she received a hug awkward only for the moment that Kainalu moved to press their foreheads together, until realizing that most foreigners didn't do such things. So she accepted the hug and returned it warmly, happy to have any such contact. The woman smelled of alcohol.

Once she'd pulled away and they were both seated, Kainalu adjusted the hyacinths around her neck, knocked askew with the contact. She nodded again at the woman's introduction, familiar with the first phrase. The second was a bit harder but still understandable. The third only left her wondering what 'marvelous' meant. Gizmo's gaze seemed to travel behind her for a moment, and Kainalu followed it, finding herself staring at her own wings. The feathers were still in good shape if a bit ruffled from the day. The color was still bright, even. She fluffed them a bit in hopes that it would help straighten them out. The woman - Gizmo spoke again, seemingly curious about her home, and her wings. Kainalu knew they were not common, but it was strange to her that one might not have heard of them. Many who came to tour Yoreiq seemed to come primarily to look at their wings as if they were the fauna of the island.

"My name is Kainalu," she replied, bringing a hand up to her chest. "From Yoreiq. Home are..." she frowned, attempting to conjure the words. "Pretty, yes? There," turning, she pointed to the south. "Home are many people wings." Unsure if that made sense, she patted her chest once more and lifted her wings a bit. "Where are you from?" Kainalu finished, hoping that the phrase was correct. She was simply repeating Gizmo's own words, so it should be right.

Valtxr

   Elan giggled. Couldn't help it. She talked funny.
   "You talk funny." Whoops. Said that out loud. "Oh. My. Well, I suppose it could also be me who's a bit far from home, couldn't it? I'm sorry. I say things when I'm drunk. Stupid things. You know. Because I talk too much. Well, then again, I'm not entirely drunk yet, so I guess it could be worse. Wait. What were we talking about? Oh..."
   Elan thought for a moment. Kainalu, that her was name, yes. She had said something was pretty. Aw, what a lovely compliment! Oh, no, wait, that's right, she had said her home was pretty. Maybe. Everybody had wings there. No, not everybody, many. Or something. Where was she from? She had said it...
   Yoreiq. The name snapped back into Elan's mind.
   "Oh! You're from Yoreiq, are you? Hmm...interesting. Say, Kai—can I call you Kai? I might call you Kai—I have a question. This might sound a bit weird, but..."
   Elan finally noticed that her hat was still askew on her head. She fixed it, then asked, "Can you read? You know, Yoreiqi? I don't mean to sound rude, but back home in Connlaoth not everyone is literate. Oh! That's right! You did ask me where I was from! I'd almost forgotten!"
   A big, somewhat goofy grin. Elan reached out and touched Kainalu's hand. "Well, thank you! Anyhow, I was wondering if perhaps you'd be so kind as to do a little something for me. Maybe I or one of my friends can buy you a drink if you'd like. You know, for your time. We have this book, you see, and it's written in Yoreiqi. Ancient Yoreiqi, apparently, not that I would know the difference. Ah, but how ancient could it be, really? So, you wouldn't mind reading a page or two from this book, would you? We're...uh, curious, as to what it's about."

wispedheart

Worry creased Kainalu's features when Gizmo told her that her speaking was off. She knew it wasn't usually correct, yes, but she was trying, which was more than most people who visited Yoreiq did. Eventually Kainalu was sure she'd get better at speaking the Common tongue, but for now, she did the best to communicate with what was within her repertoire. Before she could say so, Gizmo seemed to correct herself. Some words went over her head, but 'I'm sorry' was an easy enough phrase to understand.

The drunk woman seemed to go silent for a moment, mulling over something Kainalu didn't understand. The Yoreiqi waited patiently for her, reaching up to adjust the top she wore. It was a simple wrap, but she was still unused to wearing such a  garment. Kainalu would never understand exactly why the foreigners seemed to think that only women should cover their breasts, but it saved her undue attention, so if she must wear more clothing, she would. Plus, it was a bit chillier here than in Yoreiq.

The moment came to a close, and Gizmo spoke again. Kainalu nodded at the clarification. She grimaced, however, at the suggestion of the nickname, but even so, stayed silent. Gizmo had mentioned 'home' and 'Cannlaoth', so Kainalu assumed that must be her place of origin. Cannlaoth was a country she'd heard of before; some occasionally came to Yoreiqi, though it wasn't often she asked where they were from. Most didn't stay long enough for it to seem important. As for the request to read; that seemed more than simple. She knew how to read well enough, though she worried about translating it into Common speech properly. Perhaps one of them would know spoken Yoreiqi?

Kainalu smiled politely, motioning to the waitress as she walked over, carrying the drink she'd ordered. Thanking her, she turned back to Gizmo. "My name is Kainalu, Nalu too. Kai is god of ocean, yes? Not I." Picking up the tankard, she took a sip, grimacing slightly at the taste and setting it quickly back down. Why anybody would drink such a disgusting thing was beyond her. "I read, yes. I need no drink read." Shifting slightly, she frowned. How did you say 'book' in the common tongue? She knew Gizmo had said it only a moment ago, but it slipped her mind now.

"Where are?" she asked instead, hopping that Gizmo would understand, giving the subject of conversation.

Valtxr

   Elan gasped. Grinned ear-to-ear.
   "You're a god of the ocean?" Not I. She'd said that. Oops. Elan added, a bit sheepishly, "Oh. Oh, yes, right. Kai. The ocean god. Distinctly other person. God, rather. I knew that. Ha, ha. Right. Um. Nalu it is, then."
   Ah, would ya look at that? Nalu was having herself a little drink too. Elan glanced back at the mug still on the table she'd left. Couldn't hurt to polish it off, now could it?
   As the barmaid delivered Nalu's drink, Elan stood up and retrieved her own and sat back down. Where Nalu had sipped gingerly, Elan tilted her head back and gulped, finishing the whole thing. As soon as she set the mug down, something like a burp crossed with a hiccup escaped her throat, causing her body to jerk and for her to grab her hat reflexively.
   A giggle. "Oh, goodness."
   But how wonderful! Nalu said she could read. And she said she didn't even to be drunk to do it! Was that what she meant? Probably. Maybe. Sure.
   Elan clapped her hands together. "Well, thank you! I think..." She glanced over at the bar. Called to a man with a mostly shaved head. "'Ey, Hugh! Come here for a moment, will you?"
   Hugh finished talking with a few other men, got up from his stool, and walked over to the table. His eyes first on Nalu, then Elan. He grinned. "Makin' friends, Giz?"
   "Oh, yes. Nalu, Hugh. Hugh, Nalu. She's from Yoreiq."
   "Well, ain't that somethin'. Wait. Yorei—" He seemed to notice the wings just then. Taken aback for only a second, the grin returned and he said, "Yoreiq? You're Yoreiqi? For real?"
   Elan nodded. "Mmhmm. Did you happen to know who's holding onto the package, Hugh?"
   Hugh flicked his eyes back to Elan. "Yeah. That's gonna be the Captain. He's probably with Ramon at the northern stables by now."
   Elan rubbed her hands together. She could hardly contain her excitement. She'd done plenty of  jobs like this, the "go here and get this and bring it back" sort. And not once did she ever get the opportunity to learn something about the item in question, and why it was so bloody important in the first place. Her curiosity was always left dangling off the edge of her imagination, having little else to do but swing back and forth between differing guesses.
   It would be nice to actually find out the real deal for a change.
   To Nalu, she asked, "Shall we go, then?"

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