The journal of Willem Maerling
Mar 27, 2019 0:39:09 GMT
Malri 'Taffeta' Thistletop, ScottWolfgang, and 1 more like this
Post by Willem "Lem" Maerling on Mar 27, 2019 0:39:09 GMT
Entry one - On the "Good ship Merryweather", somewhere between the Sword Coast and the far-off land of 'Kantas'
The ship is anything but good and the weather certainly ain't merry. Only the gods are responsible for the weather, but that swindling lowlife Kenku that sold me passage aboard this rat infested bath tub will face my wrath if I ever make it back to Waterdeep. With a name like Chitter, I suppose I should've guessed he wasn't to be trusted, but what choice did I have? With Narbor's goons searching for me all over town I didn't exactly have time to do a background check on him. And I could hardly seek him out for a friendly refund once I discovered just how misnamed this 'ship' was; he'd have been long gone anyway, even if I didn't have to worry about the dragonborn's henchmen. Still, Chitter’s extortionate 'booker's fee' wiped out almost everything I stole from Narbor. And what little remained was conned out of me in that two-bit gaming room in Baldur's Gate while I waited for the Merryweather to unload and load again. Those bastards clearly stacked the deck.
At least this storm is breaking the tedium. Some of the hands game a bit, but I have nothing to wager. Nothing they're interested in winning anyway. And although I'm sorely tempted to lift a purse or two, these are a close knit bunch and as the only outsider, suspicion’s bound to fall on me. And there ain’t nowhere to run on a boat on the ocean!
So here I am, reduced by penury and boredom to writing a god damn journal. Old Jakob would approve I suppose; what was his tiresome mantra? Something like "conscript your thoughts and marshal your ideas, and you will command an army of action." Well grandfather, I hope you can see me from up there, taking your advice at last. At least Jakob had an ethos. More than you can say about my treacherous father and that scheming wife of his. Here, Jakob, this conviction doesn't require much pressganging: he is no longer my father and I will never refer to him as such again. Augustus and Verena are nothing to me now, just as I am apparently nothing to them. Their cutting me off and expelling me from the estate is the reason I'm on this god damn boat.
What of my destination then? Kantas. Sure, I've heard rumours of Kobold cities, orcish hosts threatening to sack fledgling towns, and portals to the Feywild. Hmm, well, sounds like hyperbole to me. Tall tales from adventurers, with extra gilding from the merchants and innkeepers that stand to profit from attracting the gullible. However, all that chaos and distraction means it might just be the perfect place to hide. Ultimately I had no choice but to leave Faerûn; Narbor had agents certainly in every town and city along the Sword Coast, and probably inland as well. Considering what I owed him, plus what I stole, he wouldn’t have stopped ‘til he found me, and the price would’ve been a lot more than the two fingers he took last time. And who knows, maybe I can make a bit of a life of it over there. Maybe even build up enough coin to go back to Waterdeep and show Augustus and Verena, and that oh-so-bloody-perfect Wyn, that I am worthy of the Maerling name. And maybe, just maybe, someone in Kantas knows what became of my mother.
At least this storm is breaking the tedium. Some of the hands game a bit, but I have nothing to wager. Nothing they're interested in winning anyway. And although I'm sorely tempted to lift a purse or two, these are a close knit bunch and as the only outsider, suspicion’s bound to fall on me. And there ain’t nowhere to run on a boat on the ocean!
So here I am, reduced by penury and boredom to writing a god damn journal. Old Jakob would approve I suppose; what was his tiresome mantra? Something like "conscript your thoughts and marshal your ideas, and you will command an army of action." Well grandfather, I hope you can see me from up there, taking your advice at last. At least Jakob had an ethos. More than you can say about my treacherous father and that scheming wife of his. Here, Jakob, this conviction doesn't require much pressganging: he is no longer my father and I will never refer to him as such again. Augustus and Verena are nothing to me now, just as I am apparently nothing to them. Their cutting me off and expelling me from the estate is the reason I'm on this god damn boat.
What of my destination then? Kantas. Sure, I've heard rumours of Kobold cities, orcish hosts threatening to sack fledgling towns, and portals to the Feywild. Hmm, well, sounds like hyperbole to me. Tall tales from adventurers, with extra gilding from the merchants and innkeepers that stand to profit from attracting the gullible. However, all that chaos and distraction means it might just be the perfect place to hide. Ultimately I had no choice but to leave Faerûn; Narbor had agents certainly in every town and city along the Sword Coast, and probably inland as well. Considering what I owed him, plus what I stole, he wouldn’t have stopped ‘til he found me, and the price would’ve been a lot more than the two fingers he took last time. And who knows, maybe I can make a bit of a life of it over there. Maybe even build up enough coin to go back to Waterdeep and show Augustus and Verena, and that oh-so-bloody-perfect Wyn, that I am worthy of the Maerling name. And maybe, just maybe, someone in Kantas knows what became of my mother.