Lost in the Flood – Marto Copperkettle – 23.03.2022
Mar 28, 2022 14:33:30 GMT
Velania Kalugina, Andy D, and 3 more like this
Post by Marto Copperkettle on Mar 28, 2022 14:33:30 GMT
This was the second time in as many weeks that Marto found himself walking the dirt road from Fort Ettin to one of the two major ‘cities’ in the Dawnlands because of a gut feeling that told him he needed to be somewhere. It also helped that he hadn’t been able to sleep much, his dreams still full of smoke riddled forests and dark, enticing laughter behind every tree. Marto didn’t know how to put into words the feelings he felt every time he thought of Adhyël. It was something he was actively trying to avoid doing in fact. Like right now.
Crunch.
Purposefully taking a large bite of the apple in his hand, Marto took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the sea salt air, the soft clink of his splint armour a bright tinkling tune reminding him that he was not in his dreams. The sun’s first rays were starting to touch the pebble beach of the seaside town of Port Ffirst. He closed his eyes and let the sunrise bathe him in the first warmth of the day. The town behind him was both a beautiful jewel and a disgusting dump, it just depended on where you were standing within the city.
But here, where the land met the sea, it was nature’s beauty that reigned supreme. It wasn’t the calm quiet of a lush woods, it was volatile, the waves loud as they crashed against the beach. Wind brushed through his hair, lifting his humble cloak to be a counterpoint to the symbol-like percussive flow and ebb of the waters that rose up to mere inches from where he stood. It was easy to get lost in the sound of it. With each fall back of the water to deep blue depths unknown, the worries that had been bothering him since Adhyël left his mark were being pulled away.
This wasn’t where he was meant to be though. The notice said to meet at the Cavernous Seashank and something said to get there earlier rather than later.
With a sigh and another mighty crunch into the apple, Marto turned away from the ocean and started to make his way back into the disgusting dump of Old Town and towards the rickety, distasteful watering hole.
“If you need a room, I’ve got one you could use,” Jedd said from behind the bar.
Marto dutifully ignored the innkeeper’s jab and tried to sit up, gently moving Beets from being on top of him.
He hadn’t seen his fairy friend in nearly two months and she was not letting him go from the hug she had him in so easily. It was strange. He had not realised how much time had passed. She was looking good, happy, excitable as always. She had fought a mermaid in the fighting pits here just the night before. Apparently it was a really good fight, and it was the reason why Jedd was really nice to her and not so nice to anyone else. He had charged Marto two gold for whatever poisonous drink he had served.
It had not escaped Marto’s notice the type of people who were gathering for this job. Zola was there. Lingering smiles had been shared with the bladedancer before she happily accepted the offer of the rest of Marto’s drink (she was currently trying not to cry from the poisonous ‘moonshine’). A new face to him, Seraphina, had a beautiful angelic countenance, her horns carved into a very baroque-like halo. Her armour and dress though were unmistakably marked with symbols and tributes to Selûne. Beets was catching Marto up on everything she had done recently when the final party member arrived, a human-looking woman called Nessa who seemed exalted in every little thing in the dive bar their employer had requested to meet at. There was no way to know for sure but the young knight had a sneaking suspicion that she might also have a tie to the Moonmaiden in one way or another.
Then Tricky Otto arrived and the coincidences continued to pile in, though Marto wouldn’t realise just how many until he and the rest were 100 miles out to sea.
“‘Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,’ as the saying goes.”
That was something Berton had told him a lot. It was also part of the reason why he had been brought to work at the lumberyard. Of course his brother thought that his idle thoughts would lead him to walk off like his sister with the fairies, but Marto was always occupying himself with one thing or another. He had been a constant reader, always trying to find as much information as he could about the fey. Sometimes that meant ‘borrowing’ a book or two. Other times it meant listening to tales told when no one thought he was around. The saying ended up becoming a sort of mantra of his, which was why Marto offered to help the crew. He enjoyed learning new things and his favourite thing to do was physical work.
The crew gladly accepted the young halfling’s help after his brief dip into the sea. He didn’t know exactly how it happened. One moment Beets was mentioning something and the next he was in the water. He would have been more embarrassed but considering what had been happening recently, a hearty laugh or two, even if it was at his own expense, was a welcome change to the strange hollow emptiness that had been filling his chest.
Marto had taken his splint armour off, looked up at the sky, felt the heat of the sun and decided it would be warm enough for him to go about helping the crew shirtless. There were some whistles, teasing jabs, and maybe a flex or two but then he got to work.
Captain Otto’s crew moved seamlessly together. It was easy for them to find tasks Marto could do that wouldn’t disrupt their flow. He was really enjoying himself. For his first time being out at sea he could understand why people would spend their lives out here. There were risks, and if the ship below your feet sunk to the depths you would have only a marginal chance of survival. But it took everyone to make sure they all got to where they needed to go. It didn’t surprise Marto that Captain Otto’s crew were so close. Perhaps it was having a halfling for a captain, perhaps it was because the crew had been through many tricky situations as ‘privateers’, or maybe it was something more.
Either way, when their Captain saw the fiendish mark on Marto’s ribs, an invisible wave of tension passed through them all. One moment he was tying knots in the rigging, the next he was sandwiched between a half-orc and a burly human.
“What’s wrong? Was it the way I tied those knots? I can redo them if-”
“Take a seat. Just there, alright lad?” the half-orc said gesturing to a pile of crates.
“Alright…”
Zola and Beets were looking over to where Marto was being casually escorted to the centre mast of the ship, concern and confusion colouring each of their faces. It was seeing the burly human’s glance down to his ribs that it started to fall into place for the young halfling. The first coincidence.
He had completely forgotten about Adhyël and the mark. The crew, working the ship, being at sea, all of it had pushed any troublesome thoughts from his mind. Captain Otto said she would tell them more details of the job when they were out at sea, and she seemed fairly trustworthy for a ‘privateer’, but in all honesty, it had been a relief to forget about it all, even if just for a little bit.
Captain Otto came back up to the deck, a slight, familiar half-elf with her. They look at Marto and his eyes widen in recognition. The second coincidence.
“It’s you. From the forest.” Then he frowns, the hollow feeling opening up in his chest again. “This job… it’s about them isn’t it?”
“When the sun gives way to the moon, and the heavens set the seas on fire, her light will guide your path.”
Khaós’ prophetic words rang through Marto’s head as he stepped out of the row boat. An unknown tree, bathed in a mysterious sparkling light grew out of the ground beside a massive boulder with lavender bushes surrounding it. He could see the dirt on their side was loose, like something or someone had recently disturbed the earth there. The third coincidence. But something didn’t feel right, it was too perfectly set up.
Then several things happened at once.
The glittering light from the tree shot up into the sky, becoming five points of light. Marto threw a glance to Zola, the two sharing a very knowing look, as both drew their weapons from sheaths or summoned them to their hands.
“Yondalla’s fiery hair-”
He didn’t get to finish that curse before a dark elven man appeared on the rock, lounging back in a laissez faire way, a sly grin on his face.
“It’s him!” Zola exclaimed. “The devil we fought in K’ul Goran who thought he was in the Dawnlands.”
“Ah, it’s you,” the drow looking fiend sneered at the bladedancer. “Yes, well, unlike last time, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. And it’s about time you got here. So, shall we?”
Suddenly, the sea all around them was set ablaze. Captain Otto, still in the row boat, started shouting profanities as she tried to navigate away from the hellish waters. Emerging from the flames were three gigantic fire elementals. Marto had but a fraction of a second to brace before concussive fiery blows began to rain down on him and the others from on high.
“The followers of Shar cannot collect the tome unless others do it for them.”
Those were now the words that the young knight recalled as he began swinging back in retaliation. They had to banish these enemies before they could get to the book. Of course, assuming it was still there.
“What the fuck is all this? Where is Adhyël?!”
Marto’s voice bellowed above the roiling and crashing sea as he emerged from a shimmering golden mist, leaping off the rock to come crashing down on the silent fiend. It was the same silent fiend who had been there the last time his path had crossed the Heralds, in the farming fields outside of Daring Heights. The fiend’s pitchblack eyes barely glanced up at Marto as his lumberjack’s axe sang through the air, cutting a deadly arch down towards him.
Except on the second strike the devil captured his axe swinging arm, holding Marto in an immovable, vice-like grip. He tried to pull his arm free, but it was impossible. He was trapped, like a fox in a hunter’s snare. The fiend looked down at him and his impassive features flickered briefly.
“Don’t. Don’t fight this.”
Like hell I won’t, not until you answer me! he thought as the fiend let him go, surprising the young knight. But Marto caught himself on the back foot, planted his front and with his entire core engaged, he swung as if he was trying to cut into the oldest, thickest of trees.
Just as his axe was about to connect the fiend’s eyes locked with Marto’s. The shimmering summoned moonbeam from Zola was bathing the devil in pure, silvery-white moonlight. But it didn’t seem to be doing anything. Then, suddenly and without warning, Marto was soaring backwards, nearly into the fiery waters. The air was knocked from his lungs and he gasped as darkness spotted his vision. Focusing on the five points of light above them makes something in Marto’s guts twist. He had to get up, he must get up. He had to stop this. He couldn’t afford not to.
Resummoning his axe to his hand and using his splintering shield to help him get up, Marto sees Zola had also got blasted back by the fiend’s thunderous magic. He has turned away from them, his dark eyes looking in stunned awe at Nessa and Seraphina, both of whom have a similar glow of moonlight about them and large spectral wings sprouting from their backs. It is a sight that would have taken Marto’s breath away too, had he not gotten to his feet, secured his axe behind his shield and charged, a battle cry of deep frustration, anger, and confusion tearing out of him.
“Ah…” the fiend sighs as he watches Seraphina soar up, asking a question the halfling does not hear. Before he makes contact with the devil he vanishes, teleporting away. Marto runs through the spot he had been not a second before, stops, and turns around. The silent devil and the obnoxiously vain one are gone. The fire elementals are also gone. None of the ocean is no longer on fire.
Marto lets out a howl of frustration, throwing down his useless tools — a nearly broken shield and a mundane adamantine axe — to the ground. What he was frustrated at he couldn’t say. But in the hollows of his heart he felt dark, rippling laughter echo within. It was all he could do not to scream again.
Continued in ‘Nighttime Chats at Sea’ 🌲
Crunch.
Purposefully taking a large bite of the apple in his hand, Marto took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with the sea salt air, the soft clink of his splint armour a bright tinkling tune reminding him that he was not in his dreams. The sun’s first rays were starting to touch the pebble beach of the seaside town of Port Ffirst. He closed his eyes and let the sunrise bathe him in the first warmth of the day. The town behind him was both a beautiful jewel and a disgusting dump, it just depended on where you were standing within the city.
But here, where the land met the sea, it was nature’s beauty that reigned supreme. It wasn’t the calm quiet of a lush woods, it was volatile, the waves loud as they crashed against the beach. Wind brushed through his hair, lifting his humble cloak to be a counterpoint to the symbol-like percussive flow and ebb of the waters that rose up to mere inches from where he stood. It was easy to get lost in the sound of it. With each fall back of the water to deep blue depths unknown, the worries that had been bothering him since Adhyël left his mark were being pulled away.
This wasn’t where he was meant to be though. The notice said to meet at the Cavernous Seashank and something said to get there earlier rather than later.
With a sigh and another mighty crunch into the apple, Marto turned away from the ocean and started to make his way back into the disgusting dump of Old Town and towards the rickety, distasteful watering hole.
“If you need a room, I’ve got one you could use,” Jedd said from behind the bar.
Marto dutifully ignored the innkeeper’s jab and tried to sit up, gently moving Beets from being on top of him.
He hadn’t seen his fairy friend in nearly two months and she was not letting him go from the hug she had him in so easily. It was strange. He had not realised how much time had passed. She was looking good, happy, excitable as always. She had fought a mermaid in the fighting pits here just the night before. Apparently it was a really good fight, and it was the reason why Jedd was really nice to her and not so nice to anyone else. He had charged Marto two gold for whatever poisonous drink he had served.
It had not escaped Marto’s notice the type of people who were gathering for this job. Zola was there. Lingering smiles had been shared with the bladedancer before she happily accepted the offer of the rest of Marto’s drink (she was currently trying not to cry from the poisonous ‘moonshine’). A new face to him, Seraphina, had a beautiful angelic countenance, her horns carved into a very baroque-like halo. Her armour and dress though were unmistakably marked with symbols and tributes to Selûne. Beets was catching Marto up on everything she had done recently when the final party member arrived, a human-looking woman called Nessa who seemed exalted in every little thing in the dive bar their employer had requested to meet at. There was no way to know for sure but the young knight had a sneaking suspicion that she might also have a tie to the Moonmaiden in one way or another.
Then Tricky Otto arrived and the coincidences continued to pile in, though Marto wouldn’t realise just how many until he and the rest were 100 miles out to sea.
“‘Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,’ as the saying goes.”
That was something Berton had told him a lot. It was also part of the reason why he had been brought to work at the lumberyard. Of course his brother thought that his idle thoughts would lead him to walk off like his sister with the fairies, but Marto was always occupying himself with one thing or another. He had been a constant reader, always trying to find as much information as he could about the fey. Sometimes that meant ‘borrowing’ a book or two. Other times it meant listening to tales told when no one thought he was around. The saying ended up becoming a sort of mantra of his, which was why Marto offered to help the crew. He enjoyed learning new things and his favourite thing to do was physical work.
The crew gladly accepted the young halfling’s help after his brief dip into the sea. He didn’t know exactly how it happened. One moment Beets was mentioning something and the next he was in the water. He would have been more embarrassed but considering what had been happening recently, a hearty laugh or two, even if it was at his own expense, was a welcome change to the strange hollow emptiness that had been filling his chest.
Marto had taken his splint armour off, looked up at the sky, felt the heat of the sun and decided it would be warm enough for him to go about helping the crew shirtless. There were some whistles, teasing jabs, and maybe a flex or two but then he got to work.
Captain Otto’s crew moved seamlessly together. It was easy for them to find tasks Marto could do that wouldn’t disrupt their flow. He was really enjoying himself. For his first time being out at sea he could understand why people would spend their lives out here. There were risks, and if the ship below your feet sunk to the depths you would have only a marginal chance of survival. But it took everyone to make sure they all got to where they needed to go. It didn’t surprise Marto that Captain Otto’s crew were so close. Perhaps it was having a halfling for a captain, perhaps it was because the crew had been through many tricky situations as ‘privateers’, or maybe it was something more.
Either way, when their Captain saw the fiendish mark on Marto’s ribs, an invisible wave of tension passed through them all. One moment he was tying knots in the rigging, the next he was sandwiched between a half-orc and a burly human.
“What’s wrong? Was it the way I tied those knots? I can redo them if-”
“Take a seat. Just there, alright lad?” the half-orc said gesturing to a pile of crates.
“Alright…”
Zola and Beets were looking over to where Marto was being casually escorted to the centre mast of the ship, concern and confusion colouring each of their faces. It was seeing the burly human’s glance down to his ribs that it started to fall into place for the young halfling. The first coincidence.
He had completely forgotten about Adhyël and the mark. The crew, working the ship, being at sea, all of it had pushed any troublesome thoughts from his mind. Captain Otto said she would tell them more details of the job when they were out at sea, and she seemed fairly trustworthy for a ‘privateer’, but in all honesty, it had been a relief to forget about it all, even if just for a little bit.
Captain Otto came back up to the deck, a slight, familiar half-elf with her. They look at Marto and his eyes widen in recognition. The second coincidence.
“It’s you. From the forest.” Then he frowns, the hollow feeling opening up in his chest again. “This job… it’s about them isn’t it?”
“When the sun gives way to the moon, and the heavens set the seas on fire, her light will guide your path.”
Khaós’ prophetic words rang through Marto’s head as he stepped out of the row boat. An unknown tree, bathed in a mysterious sparkling light grew out of the ground beside a massive boulder with lavender bushes surrounding it. He could see the dirt on their side was loose, like something or someone had recently disturbed the earth there. The third coincidence. But something didn’t feel right, it was too perfectly set up.
Then several things happened at once.
The glittering light from the tree shot up into the sky, becoming five points of light. Marto threw a glance to Zola, the two sharing a very knowing look, as both drew their weapons from sheaths or summoned them to their hands.
“Yondalla’s fiery hair-”
He didn’t get to finish that curse before a dark elven man appeared on the rock, lounging back in a laissez faire way, a sly grin on his face.
“It’s him!” Zola exclaimed. “The devil we fought in K’ul Goran who thought he was in the Dawnlands.”
“Ah, it’s you,” the drow looking fiend sneered at the bladedancer. “Yes, well, unlike last time, I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. And it’s about time you got here. So, shall we?”
Suddenly, the sea all around them was set ablaze. Captain Otto, still in the row boat, started shouting profanities as she tried to navigate away from the hellish waters. Emerging from the flames were three gigantic fire elementals. Marto had but a fraction of a second to brace before concussive fiery blows began to rain down on him and the others from on high.
“The followers of Shar cannot collect the tome unless others do it for them.”
Those were now the words that the young knight recalled as he began swinging back in retaliation. They had to banish these enemies before they could get to the book. Of course, assuming it was still there.
“What the fuck is all this? Where is Adhyël?!”
Marto’s voice bellowed above the roiling and crashing sea as he emerged from a shimmering golden mist, leaping off the rock to come crashing down on the silent fiend. It was the same silent fiend who had been there the last time his path had crossed the Heralds, in the farming fields outside of Daring Heights. The fiend’s pitchblack eyes barely glanced up at Marto as his lumberjack’s axe sang through the air, cutting a deadly arch down towards him.
Except on the second strike the devil captured his axe swinging arm, holding Marto in an immovable, vice-like grip. He tried to pull his arm free, but it was impossible. He was trapped, like a fox in a hunter’s snare. The fiend looked down at him and his impassive features flickered briefly.
“Don’t. Don’t fight this.”
Like hell I won’t, not until you answer me! he thought as the fiend let him go, surprising the young knight. But Marto caught himself on the back foot, planted his front and with his entire core engaged, he swung as if he was trying to cut into the oldest, thickest of trees.
Just as his axe was about to connect the fiend’s eyes locked with Marto’s. The shimmering summoned moonbeam from Zola was bathing the devil in pure, silvery-white moonlight. But it didn’t seem to be doing anything. Then, suddenly and without warning, Marto was soaring backwards, nearly into the fiery waters. The air was knocked from his lungs and he gasped as darkness spotted his vision. Focusing on the five points of light above them makes something in Marto’s guts twist. He had to get up, he must get up. He had to stop this. He couldn’t afford not to.
Resummoning his axe to his hand and using his splintering shield to help him get up, Marto sees Zola had also got blasted back by the fiend’s thunderous magic. He has turned away from them, his dark eyes looking in stunned awe at Nessa and Seraphina, both of whom have a similar glow of moonlight about them and large spectral wings sprouting from their backs. It is a sight that would have taken Marto’s breath away too, had he not gotten to his feet, secured his axe behind his shield and charged, a battle cry of deep frustration, anger, and confusion tearing out of him.
“Ah…” the fiend sighs as he watches Seraphina soar up, asking a question the halfling does not hear. Before he makes contact with the devil he vanishes, teleporting away. Marto runs through the spot he had been not a second before, stops, and turns around. The silent devil and the obnoxiously vain one are gone. The fire elementals are also gone. None of the ocean is no longer on fire.
Marto lets out a howl of frustration, throwing down his useless tools — a nearly broken shield and a mundane adamantine axe — to the ground. What he was frustrated at he couldn’t say. But in the hollows of his heart he felt dark, rippling laughter echo within. It was all he could do not to scream again.
Continued in ‘Nighttime Chats at Sea’ 🌲
