Seeing futures, embracing presents, remembering pasts
Nov 2, 2022 12:13:28 GMT
Delilah Daybreaker, Velania Kalugina, and 5 more like this
Post by Wixspartan on Nov 2, 2022 12:13:28 GMT
It's almost noon in the glade of trees. The sun stretches at its zenith, illuminating the peaceful little patch filled with nothing but a couple of trees and a small rock. The glade is not hard to find if you know the way, druidic symbols scratched into trees illuminating a path would be easily identified by those of the wild. There is a hammock in the glade, let us have a better look at it. In it lies a sleeping wood elf, tall and lithe, with messy hair and a wild looking bearskin cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. He shifts, slowly feeling consciousness sink in. The more scholarly of Faerun might point out he has no need to sleep, being a wood elf, but he chooses to, and he chooses to dream. Not the trance like memory dreams of the elven, and not the creative affairs of the younger races, but true dreaming. He sits up and yawns, rubbing his eyes. What eyes they are, completely without pupil and the colour of a dark night sky, if someone was to stare deeply into them one might say they had the sparkle of distant stars. But now they simply stare at the cloudy sky, it was time for breakfast.
He stalked through the woods quietly, retracing paths he knew by heart. Occasionally he would stop, and only the most eagle eyed rangers would notice what he was looking at. He was checking his animal traps, although he knew which ones would be full and which were empty, his dream last night had ensured that much. But that's the thing about premonition. With divination you could know the future, predict the present and stare into the past, but with premonition you simply knew what would happen if you kept going. He had once simply gone to the traps he knew were full and had received a headache that knocked him out for several days. Time doesn't like being second guessed, if you foresaw that the second trap that you checked was full, you bloody well better check all the others because else how would you know to have previously had the knowing? In cities like Waterdeep they had people to think about these things, philosophers, or maybe it was madmen, but either way this wasn't Waterdeep, this was the edge of the Angelbark.
It's at least an hour past noon when Ilthuryn returns to the glade with a stoat and a rabbit strapped to his belt and sits down on the soft damp grass. Could he have gone to the effort to pick up some dry kindling and logs on his way back? Yes, and he often did, but today was one of those days where he just wanted to relax and watch the stars. That was the trouble really, he had spent all last night star watching, waiting to listen to their words, their advice. He clicked his fingers and a campfire sprung up in front of him. He produced two skewers and with some simple motions with his knife the two creatures were skinned and spread eagled facing the burning blaze. He took the opportunity to retrieve a small clay teapot from his satchel that leant on a rock and from his belt poured some water from a waterskin. Then he reached into a small pouch and produced a mix of leaves, flowers and berries that he dropped in the pot before stowing it in the fire.
Hours later the tea was ready, it made good company to the cloud watching. It was another slow day for Ilthuryn, but right now, he couldn't have foreseen a better future
Voss carefully tiptoed through the Seashank. Below him lay the bodies of unconscious patrons who had fallen for the age old trick of "13 pints for the price of 12". He drank from his hip flask of spring water and felt the cleansing effect of clean clear water. He didn't drink, or at least he made a habit not to. Then he felt the hand grab his ankle. The voice was slurred and in the traditional Port Ffirst dialect (vulgar, unidentifiable accent and rather too drunk)
"Yooooou fuckn hic buggr comin in hee.. hee.. here, with yer fuckn I dunno fancy toff purse. Gissa lil summn and I fink we can go bout our belch particulars wivout hic problems. Pal"
Ah yes thought Voss, the traditional Port Ffirst greeting, reminded him of home back in Luskan. He gave the hand a non-committal kick and kept walking. Then he felt the stranger stagger to its feet behind him. This was unusual in the Seashank as the beer was usually sewer water mixed with alcohol and the spirits were usually rebranded turpentine, someone getting vertical the morning after a night drinking there was rather impressive. Then he heard the smash of the bottle, ah.
He spun in one fluid motion that somehow also resulted in his heavy traveling coat and simple cloth shirt being removed. To say his muscles shone would be lying on several accounts; the lighting in here was non-existent, his muscles had never been more than tightly wound wires and springs over bones that remarkably all stayed where they were supposed to, and even if proper light made it in here the countless scars and burns would likely diffuse it before it could shine off them.
"Thas it laddy, give ol Gascoigne a challenge hic before he gets ya money hehehehehe"
Voss smiled and raised his fist in the traditional manner of someone who has been taught how to fight the proper way, and decided that actually kicking the other bloke in the todger would likely get better results. He was feeling cocky, he knew it was stupid but at times like these he felt a one liner was the least he could do for the other patrons who had begun to slump on walls to watch the brawl. His voice was eerily calm as always.
"Some advice for you Gascoigne, never try and start a barfight with a Luskan."
At that he swung straight for the jaw, the drunk man too confused to notice and dodge. It connected square, rocking the man but not dropping him yet. Just as he wound up for another old Gascoigne charged unsteadily forward with the broken bottle. Voss had to give it to him, he was fast for an old inebriated man, but only the dirtiest, saltiest, scum wound up in this town. He dodged the charge, twirling with the grace of a dancer as he did. He was being showy, he knew it, but after all wasn't that his job? Who knows, maybe he could cut a deal with the tavern owner, daily barfights to attract tourists looking to get the real Port Ffirst experience. That didn't matter now though. He placed a dirty kick in the old man's lower back, almost knocking him forward into the solid, albeit extremely stained wooden plank this place used as a bar. Gascoigne spun, clearly stumbling more, one more shot and he would be downed, time to make it a flourish. Voss moved down and forwards sharply, trying to get in front and below his opponent. With one move he swung his fist up behind the man, his solid bicep connecting with the man's groin. Thank you mum for that one, worked almost every time. Old Gascoigne collapsed with a wheeze. Fight over, Voss 12, PF 7. He was bitter about those seven but really if you thought about it, four were and ambush, one was a dwarf (and it wasn't fair having to try and fight the little buggers, they practically headbutted your stomach out your back), one was two on one and the last was an actual goliath who just got off the boat.
But today was a new day in Port Ffirst, and Voss had work to do. He was starting to like this place, mercenary, dancer, bar fighter, all of his jobs were perfect for the town he found himself in...
Silvia stretches in the double bed and sits up. She looks over to see Sorrel still asleep, it's not even dawn yet and Sorrel got back late as usual, Silvia would let her rest. She gets up and slips on a simple dress before putting on a couple of pendants on strings around her neck, the gauntlet with eye and the rising sun of dawn. She sighs and walks downstairs to the kitchen before opening the East facing window shades. She places her hands on the windowsill and stares at the roofs of the houses opposite. Minutes later she watches the yellow-orange glow rising and feels the cleansing sunlight drip across the tops of the buildings and washing over her. She breathes deeply, feeling the light of Lathander cleaning her and filling her with warmth. She sits for a few minutes just waiting and relaxing in the light. A few minutes later she steps away from the window and collects a small pouch of coins and a basket. She steps out the front door into the quiet morning street of Daring Heights.
It's a short walk through the city to the markets of Portal Plaza, she finds a small halfling she knows only comes in once a Tenday from New Hillborough. She smiles at him, and it is a genuine smile. Her eyes still leak her darkness but they are filled with joyous light.
"Mr. Greenbottle, how wonderful to see you in town today, what's on offer?"
The old halfing grins and spreads his hands over his stall of vegetables.
"What's ya lookin for miss Silvia? We gots roots of all sorts, cabbages so fresh they may still be in the ground and apples and peaches juicier than my wi- well they're juicy let's say hehe. So what'll it be?"
Silvia grins and picks up several vegetables, she could make a good pie out of these, and these leeks would go excellently in some form of potato hash. She steps away from the stall after paying the old halfing a handful of silver. What a life she had lived so far, and with so much left to go...
She looked towards the sun, feeling the glow warming her face. She remembered helping around her father's forge when she was younger, she remembered joining the town guard, she remembered everything that has happened since to get her to this point. But she was here, alive; she had friends, she had a girlfriend, she had a whole future stretching out ahead of her. She was glad about that, she had never been glad about that before. Always there had been a shadow over her, and now it was gone. Maybe she would celebrate tonight with a good bottle of wine. But for now she had to get back, those potatoes and leeks needed prepping and the Morninglord knew she was going to have to put some work into that pie crust. It would be a nice quiet day in Daring Heights, the start of many to come.
He stalked through the woods quietly, retracing paths he knew by heart. Occasionally he would stop, and only the most eagle eyed rangers would notice what he was looking at. He was checking his animal traps, although he knew which ones would be full and which were empty, his dream last night had ensured that much. But that's the thing about premonition. With divination you could know the future, predict the present and stare into the past, but with premonition you simply knew what would happen if you kept going. He had once simply gone to the traps he knew were full and had received a headache that knocked him out for several days. Time doesn't like being second guessed, if you foresaw that the second trap that you checked was full, you bloody well better check all the others because else how would you know to have previously had the knowing? In cities like Waterdeep they had people to think about these things, philosophers, or maybe it was madmen, but either way this wasn't Waterdeep, this was the edge of the Angelbark.
It's at least an hour past noon when Ilthuryn returns to the glade with a stoat and a rabbit strapped to his belt and sits down on the soft damp grass. Could he have gone to the effort to pick up some dry kindling and logs on his way back? Yes, and he often did, but today was one of those days where he just wanted to relax and watch the stars. That was the trouble really, he had spent all last night star watching, waiting to listen to their words, their advice. He clicked his fingers and a campfire sprung up in front of him. He produced two skewers and with some simple motions with his knife the two creatures were skinned and spread eagled facing the burning blaze. He took the opportunity to retrieve a small clay teapot from his satchel that leant on a rock and from his belt poured some water from a waterskin. Then he reached into a small pouch and produced a mix of leaves, flowers and berries that he dropped in the pot before stowing it in the fire.
Hours later the tea was ready, it made good company to the cloud watching. It was another slow day for Ilthuryn, but right now, he couldn't have foreseen a better future
Voss carefully tiptoed through the Seashank. Below him lay the bodies of unconscious patrons who had fallen for the age old trick of "13 pints for the price of 12". He drank from his hip flask of spring water and felt the cleansing effect of clean clear water. He didn't drink, or at least he made a habit not to. Then he felt the hand grab his ankle. The voice was slurred and in the traditional Port Ffirst dialect (vulgar, unidentifiable accent and rather too drunk)
"Yooooou fuckn hic buggr comin in hee.. hee.. here, with yer fuckn I dunno fancy toff purse. Gissa lil summn and I fink we can go bout our belch particulars wivout hic problems. Pal"
Ah yes thought Voss, the traditional Port Ffirst greeting, reminded him of home back in Luskan. He gave the hand a non-committal kick and kept walking. Then he felt the stranger stagger to its feet behind him. This was unusual in the Seashank as the beer was usually sewer water mixed with alcohol and the spirits were usually rebranded turpentine, someone getting vertical the morning after a night drinking there was rather impressive. Then he heard the smash of the bottle, ah.
He spun in one fluid motion that somehow also resulted in his heavy traveling coat and simple cloth shirt being removed. To say his muscles shone would be lying on several accounts; the lighting in here was non-existent, his muscles had never been more than tightly wound wires and springs over bones that remarkably all stayed where they were supposed to, and even if proper light made it in here the countless scars and burns would likely diffuse it before it could shine off them.
"Thas it laddy, give ol Gascoigne a challenge hic before he gets ya money hehehehehe"
Voss smiled and raised his fist in the traditional manner of someone who has been taught how to fight the proper way, and decided that actually kicking the other bloke in the todger would likely get better results. He was feeling cocky, he knew it was stupid but at times like these he felt a one liner was the least he could do for the other patrons who had begun to slump on walls to watch the brawl. His voice was eerily calm as always.
"Some advice for you Gascoigne, never try and start a barfight with a Luskan."
At that he swung straight for the jaw, the drunk man too confused to notice and dodge. It connected square, rocking the man but not dropping him yet. Just as he wound up for another old Gascoigne charged unsteadily forward with the broken bottle. Voss had to give it to him, he was fast for an old inebriated man, but only the dirtiest, saltiest, scum wound up in this town. He dodged the charge, twirling with the grace of a dancer as he did. He was being showy, he knew it, but after all wasn't that his job? Who knows, maybe he could cut a deal with the tavern owner, daily barfights to attract tourists looking to get the real Port Ffirst experience. That didn't matter now though. He placed a dirty kick in the old man's lower back, almost knocking him forward into the solid, albeit extremely stained wooden plank this place used as a bar. Gascoigne spun, clearly stumbling more, one more shot and he would be downed, time to make it a flourish. Voss moved down and forwards sharply, trying to get in front and below his opponent. With one move he swung his fist up behind the man, his solid bicep connecting with the man's groin. Thank you mum for that one, worked almost every time. Old Gascoigne collapsed with a wheeze. Fight over, Voss 12, PF 7. He was bitter about those seven but really if you thought about it, four were and ambush, one was a dwarf (and it wasn't fair having to try and fight the little buggers, they practically headbutted your stomach out your back), one was two on one and the last was an actual goliath who just got off the boat.
But today was a new day in Port Ffirst, and Voss had work to do. He was starting to like this place, mercenary, dancer, bar fighter, all of his jobs were perfect for the town he found himself in...
Silvia stretches in the double bed and sits up. She looks over to see Sorrel still asleep, it's not even dawn yet and Sorrel got back late as usual, Silvia would let her rest. She gets up and slips on a simple dress before putting on a couple of pendants on strings around her neck, the gauntlet with eye and the rising sun of dawn. She sighs and walks downstairs to the kitchen before opening the East facing window shades. She places her hands on the windowsill and stares at the roofs of the houses opposite. Minutes later she watches the yellow-orange glow rising and feels the cleansing sunlight drip across the tops of the buildings and washing over her. She breathes deeply, feeling the light of Lathander cleaning her and filling her with warmth. She sits for a few minutes just waiting and relaxing in the light. A few minutes later she steps away from the window and collects a small pouch of coins and a basket. She steps out the front door into the quiet morning street of Daring Heights.
It's a short walk through the city to the markets of Portal Plaza, she finds a small halfling she knows only comes in once a Tenday from New Hillborough. She smiles at him, and it is a genuine smile. Her eyes still leak her darkness but they are filled with joyous light.
"Mr. Greenbottle, how wonderful to see you in town today, what's on offer?"
The old halfing grins and spreads his hands over his stall of vegetables.
"What's ya lookin for miss Silvia? We gots roots of all sorts, cabbages so fresh they may still be in the ground and apples and peaches juicier than my wi- well they're juicy let's say hehe. So what'll it be?"
Silvia grins and picks up several vegetables, she could make a good pie out of these, and these leeks would go excellently in some form of potato hash. She steps away from the stall after paying the old halfing a handful of silver. What a life she had lived so far, and with so much left to go...
She looked towards the sun, feeling the glow warming her face. She remembered helping around her father's forge when she was younger, she remembered joining the town guard, she remembered everything that has happened since to get her to this point. But she was here, alive; she had friends, she had a girlfriend, she had a whole future stretching out ahead of her. She was glad about that, she had never been glad about that before. Always there had been a shadow over her, and now it was gone. Maybe she would celebrate tonight with a good bottle of wine. But for now she had to get back, those potatoes and leeks needed prepping and the Morninglord knew she was going to have to put some work into that pie crust. It would be a nice quiet day in Daring Heights, the start of many to come.