Journey of a Thousand Tales – Marto Copperkettle – 2.11.2021
Nov 15, 2021 19:40:42 GMT
Celina Zabinski likes this
Post by Marto Copperkettle on Nov 15, 2021 19:40:42 GMT
Marto sunk down into the winged back chair in his halfling sized room at the Four Fair Winds, down the hall from where he had stayed in the summer, the last time he had been here. These rooms were what were called a bachelor suite, but it was more of a bedroom with a small antichamber where he could have guests should he wish. It was small, and not just for the height. If he was being honest, Marto wondered if maybe he would move to that Fort Leocanto had mentioned, the one that housed a bunch of the other adventurers. The Four Fair Winds was nice, but didn’t know if staying here was much better than the one night he stayed at the Gilded Mirror.
At least that had been free.
He checks the timepiece on the small mantle and suddenly bolts up. He was going to be late. It wasn’t that Marto was worried about what Merla would say to him. She would be understanding until the cows came home. No, it was the stern eye that would loom over him from Astra as he would arrive, breathless from his attempt to negate his tardiness.
Which is exactly what happened.
“You made it!” Merla says brightly. “We were about to head over without you.”
“I said… I wanted to help with… building the theatre! Besides,” Marto straightens up, a lopsided grin brightening his face, “I told Ma and Pa I’d find work. If it just so happens to be helping the newest “it” archfey of the ’Wilds…” He gives her a wink.
“It means a lot that we can do this together, Marto. Thank you,” Merla says to him, laying a hand on his arm.
He blushes, feeling something from her touch connect with him. Since she became an archfey – little ‘a’, as she put it – Marto had thought he’d be prepared for the differences. But there were things about her now, things Merla did not mention, but they both know were there because, well, it’s hard not to notice when you feel music resound within your chest from your sister’s touch.
“Yeah, of course.”
Astra kneels down and the two climb on, one a little less gracefully than the other. That was another thing: Merla could be whatever size she wanted now but always chose to be the same height as she was before her metamorphosis when she was with him. The only difference was the constant presence of her fey wings. She never hid them away.
“So how was staying in the Gilded Mirror last night?” she asks as Astra takes off into the sky. Marto does his best to not pinch those wings under his arms as he holds on. Luckily he wasn’t wearing the chainmail he was last night, just a soft button up shirt over a workmans’ chemise, stained slacks, and his working boots.
“Rowdy as the feast we had when you came to visit, but multiply it by ten.” He chuckles. “Turns out your suggestion to not go without my axe and shield was a good idea.”
“Did I say that?” Merla asks, glancing over her shoulder. “I thought I said you wouldn’t have to as it is in Daring Heights and, well, the most you’d have to protect yourself from is Leocanto’s excessive use of rose petals. And maybe his ego,” she adds with a giggle.
“Huh, maybe it wasn’t you…” the slight frown clears from Marto’s brow as he shakes his head. “Either way, it was a good thing I did! Turns out there was an infestation of rats in the cellar. Something about not checking a shipment of wine from Sigil.”
“Sigil? I did not know Leocanto got his wares from there.” There was a beat of silence. “But wait, you fought rats in the Gilded Mirror?”
“Yeah – together with a few others that also had those fliers! There was one Captain Allister – he looked like he could have stepped out of some heroic ballad the way he commanded the attention of everyone else in the fight. Then there was this snow leopard mage, Snowey, who found where the rats were hiding after we had fought some animated barrels. Unfortunately, we spilt some of the wine but Leocanto didn’t mind because when we were fighting these rats – big things with huge brains sticking up out of their heads-”
“Those sound like cranium rats,” Merla interrupts, looking over her shoulder properly at him.
Marto snaps his fingers as the name rings a bell. “Yes, that’s what one of the others called them. Was it Perin? Or maybe it was Sabeline? Anyway, Snowy chased one of them back to this door that wasn’t a door-”
“Was it ajar?” his sister asks with a sly grin.
“Oh, haha. But, no, it wasn’t. It was an awakened door… Or at least it was awakened enough to talk to us and try to give us riddles to pass it. Anyway, Leocanto did not mind the spilt wine because we were able to save the two staff members who had been charmed by the cranium rats just in the nick of time!”
“Does that mean you used some of the spells we’ve been practicing?” Merla asks excitedly.
“I did!” Marto answers, feeling pretty chuffed at the memory. “You were right, in the heat of a fight, having the somatic pattern committed to muscle memory helped so I didn’t have to think about it when I went to cast a protection spell on Corin, one of the two people we helped save.”
“Well done,” Merla says. Astra gives her own winney of assent.
Marto just smiles.
“Ya know,” he starts, “before we went down to the basement, and Leocanto was on the stage, he mentioned the fort, the one that has all of the adventurers.”
“Fort Ettin?”
“Yeah. I was thinkin’... maybe once the theatre is built I might check that place out for a bit.” Marto looks to the north east and just through the grey haze of the cloudy sky he can see the red tiled roof of what could be mistaken as a castle.
“I think that is a great idea,” Merla says, once again laying a hand on his arm. This time when he feels the music in his chest, Marto doesn’t blush. Instead, it is a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He feels her hum a few notes and feels a sympathetic vibration in her, which surprises him.
“Well, it won’t be for a few weeks yet. I just feel like it’s the right thing for me to do…” he trails off.
Marto hasn’t told Merla about the dream he’s had – several times now, though nothing like what it was the first time. But then again, she does have a way of being able to read people without needing to say much. Still, he feels like he should tell her, eventually.
Maybe when he finally figures out what it all means.
“I understand,” Merla tells him.
Astra begins her descent down. Marto casts one last look to the north, seeing a swath of a vast forest behind the red keep of Fort Ettin and feels something tingle in the palm of his hands.
At least that had been free.
He checks the timepiece on the small mantle and suddenly bolts up. He was going to be late. It wasn’t that Marto was worried about what Merla would say to him. She would be understanding until the cows came home. No, it was the stern eye that would loom over him from Astra as he would arrive, breathless from his attempt to negate his tardiness.
Which is exactly what happened.
“You made it!” Merla says brightly. “We were about to head over without you.”
“I said… I wanted to help with… building the theatre! Besides,” Marto straightens up, a lopsided grin brightening his face, “I told Ma and Pa I’d find work. If it just so happens to be helping the newest “it” archfey of the ’Wilds…” He gives her a wink.
“It means a lot that we can do this together, Marto. Thank you,” Merla says to him, laying a hand on his arm.
He blushes, feeling something from her touch connect with him. Since she became an archfey – little ‘a’, as she put it – Marto had thought he’d be prepared for the differences. But there were things about her now, things Merla did not mention, but they both know were there because, well, it’s hard not to notice when you feel music resound within your chest from your sister’s touch.
“Yeah, of course.”
Astra kneels down and the two climb on, one a little less gracefully than the other. That was another thing: Merla could be whatever size she wanted now but always chose to be the same height as she was before her metamorphosis when she was with him. The only difference was the constant presence of her fey wings. She never hid them away.
“So how was staying in the Gilded Mirror last night?” she asks as Astra takes off into the sky. Marto does his best to not pinch those wings under his arms as he holds on. Luckily he wasn’t wearing the chainmail he was last night, just a soft button up shirt over a workmans’ chemise, stained slacks, and his working boots.
“Rowdy as the feast we had when you came to visit, but multiply it by ten.” He chuckles. “Turns out your suggestion to not go without my axe and shield was a good idea.”
“Did I say that?” Merla asks, glancing over her shoulder. “I thought I said you wouldn’t have to as it is in Daring Heights and, well, the most you’d have to protect yourself from is Leocanto’s excessive use of rose petals. And maybe his ego,” she adds with a giggle.
“Huh, maybe it wasn’t you…” the slight frown clears from Marto’s brow as he shakes his head. “Either way, it was a good thing I did! Turns out there was an infestation of rats in the cellar. Something about not checking a shipment of wine from Sigil.”
“Sigil? I did not know Leocanto got his wares from there.” There was a beat of silence. “But wait, you fought rats in the Gilded Mirror?”
“Yeah – together with a few others that also had those fliers! There was one Captain Allister – he looked like he could have stepped out of some heroic ballad the way he commanded the attention of everyone else in the fight. Then there was this snow leopard mage, Snowey, who found where the rats were hiding after we had fought some animated barrels. Unfortunately, we spilt some of the wine but Leocanto didn’t mind because when we were fighting these rats – big things with huge brains sticking up out of their heads-”
“Those sound like cranium rats,” Merla interrupts, looking over her shoulder properly at him.
Marto snaps his fingers as the name rings a bell. “Yes, that’s what one of the others called them. Was it Perin? Or maybe it was Sabeline? Anyway, Snowy chased one of them back to this door that wasn’t a door-”
“Was it ajar?” his sister asks with a sly grin.
“Oh, haha. But, no, it wasn’t. It was an awakened door… Or at least it was awakened enough to talk to us and try to give us riddles to pass it. Anyway, Leocanto did not mind the spilt wine because we were able to save the two staff members who had been charmed by the cranium rats just in the nick of time!”
“Does that mean you used some of the spells we’ve been practicing?” Merla asks excitedly.
“I did!” Marto answers, feeling pretty chuffed at the memory. “You were right, in the heat of a fight, having the somatic pattern committed to muscle memory helped so I didn’t have to think about it when I went to cast a protection spell on Corin, one of the two people we helped save.”
“Well done,” Merla says. Astra gives her own winney of assent.
Marto just smiles.
“Ya know,” he starts, “before we went down to the basement, and Leocanto was on the stage, he mentioned the fort, the one that has all of the adventurers.”
“Fort Ettin?”
“Yeah. I was thinkin’... maybe once the theatre is built I might check that place out for a bit.” Marto looks to the north east and just through the grey haze of the cloudy sky he can see the red tiled roof of what could be mistaken as a castle.
“I think that is a great idea,” Merla says, once again laying a hand on his arm. This time when he feels the music in his chest, Marto doesn’t blush. Instead, it is a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He feels her hum a few notes and feels a sympathetic vibration in her, which surprises him.
“Well, it won’t be for a few weeks yet. I just feel like it’s the right thing for me to do…” he trails off.
Marto hasn’t told Merla about the dream he’s had – several times now, though nothing like what it was the first time. But then again, she does have a way of being able to read people without needing to say much. Still, he feels like he should tell her, eventually.
Maybe when he finally figures out what it all means.
“I understand,” Merla tells him.
Astra begins her descent down. Marto casts one last look to the north, seeing a swath of a vast forest behind the red keep of Fort Ettin and feels something tingle in the palm of his hands.