Tazmuck Leathertail - The Air Thief
Nov 15, 2019 21:33:38 GMT
BB, Ian (Menace), and 2 more like this
Post by Tazmuck on Nov 15, 2019 21:33:38 GMT
(warning, contains some fairly graphic violence)
Far out at sea, The Avernus is running a gale on heavily reefed sails, the black canvas creaks under the strain. At every moment the whole vessel is either riding backwards up a wave, or steaming violently down the other side of one. The air is thick with spray swept off the foaming white water and the waves often break over the stern and swamp the decks. A storm like this would be too strong for a merchant vessel or galley, but the Avernus was built for seas like these, and it almost feels graceful.
They are hunting, looking for the slower, less well armed vessels that hove-to in the oncoming storms. Boarding would be impossible for most pirate ships in a sea like this, but The Avernus has tricks. The captain is a powerful storm sorcerer, and as they approach, he would bend the wind around to help them. His apprentice would then shape the water in front of them, calming the movement, as the fighters jumped on board. It was a tactic they’d used many times, and it always went well.
They soon found what they were looking for. A standard merchant craft, about the same size as The Avernus, but much heavier, with higher sides and a large, bulbous hull built for carrying heavy goods. As expected, they had taken in their sails and were lying against the sea, waiting for the storm to pass, assuming they were safe.
The Avernus approached and fighters lined up - twenty red dragonborn, armoured and armed, standing against the gunwale ready to leap. At 14, it was Taz’s first time in the boarding party. He had his rapier - the sign of the Leathertail clan - in one hand and a small buckler in the other. As they pulled aside he was the first to leap. He was too keen, and he went too early, almost missing a handhold on the other side and falling into the water. But he held on and pulled himself up onto the other ships deck, ready for battle, just as the others were starting to make the leap.
He had been training for this for years, pretty much as long as he remembered. The captain had always been honest about his life. He knew that he was born somewhere in Faerun, and that he had been the son of a very wealthy family, possibly even nobleborn. The Leathertails had taken his parents ship and killed them, but seeing the young red dragonborn, at that point just around a year old, the captain decided to keep him. Since then, he’d lived aboard, learning to sail, navigate, and fight. He loved the captain and the crew - their tales of the sea, the songs and the storms. As a teenager, surrounded only by the clan, he had little sense of morality or society outside of what they taught him.
And now here he was, staring at what would be his first battle. And as he looked, for a second the adrenaline rush cleared. It wasn’t an exactly an army he was looking at. He stood facing about ten people. Only two - hired guards, he guessed - looked at all dangerous, but even they were shaking as they held up their short swords. The rest were just sailors, they held up swords and axes as if to fight but their stances were wrong, they gripped their weapons in the wrong places, their armour wasn’t fastened properly, exposing weak points. This wasn’t going to be a fight, it was going to be a massacre.
But then the adrenaline kicked in again like nothing before, and as the other dragonborn started to appear beside him, he charged. His rapier quickly found its way into one of the guards throats. It went through easily and a mixture of agony and realisation went over the mans face all at once as he collapsed. The others went down just as quickly, and Taz found himself face to face with the last standing enemy: a human boy, about his age, with tears in his eyes as he held his sword far too far from his body. Taz ran over to him, tripped him, and pressed his muscular arm against the throat of the boy until he stopped moving. He looked up for approval from his clan, and found plenty. They cheered, laughing and encouraging him.
After that, Taz would be known as thrae virlym draconic for the air thief, and strangling or choking this became his signature move, every time getting a cheer from his older brothers.
But there was one still detail he never told anyone, maybe the only secret he ever kept form the clan. That night, he had an incredibly vivid dream, in which the boy he had choked had turned him round and choked him instead. He woke up gasping for breath, shaking and sweating, and from then every time he choked someone in real life, he would have the dream again, and it was always the first boy he killed in the dream, his blue eyes filled with tears as he stared coldly into Taz's.
Far out at sea, The Avernus is running a gale on heavily reefed sails, the black canvas creaks under the strain. At every moment the whole vessel is either riding backwards up a wave, or steaming violently down the other side of one. The air is thick with spray swept off the foaming white water and the waves often break over the stern and swamp the decks. A storm like this would be too strong for a merchant vessel or galley, but the Avernus was built for seas like these, and it almost feels graceful.
They are hunting, looking for the slower, less well armed vessels that hove-to in the oncoming storms. Boarding would be impossible for most pirate ships in a sea like this, but The Avernus has tricks. The captain is a powerful storm sorcerer, and as they approach, he would bend the wind around to help them. His apprentice would then shape the water in front of them, calming the movement, as the fighters jumped on board. It was a tactic they’d used many times, and it always went well.
They soon found what they were looking for. A standard merchant craft, about the same size as The Avernus, but much heavier, with higher sides and a large, bulbous hull built for carrying heavy goods. As expected, they had taken in their sails and were lying against the sea, waiting for the storm to pass, assuming they were safe.
The Avernus approached and fighters lined up - twenty red dragonborn, armoured and armed, standing against the gunwale ready to leap. At 14, it was Taz’s first time in the boarding party. He had his rapier - the sign of the Leathertail clan - in one hand and a small buckler in the other. As they pulled aside he was the first to leap. He was too keen, and he went too early, almost missing a handhold on the other side and falling into the water. But he held on and pulled himself up onto the other ships deck, ready for battle, just as the others were starting to make the leap.
He had been training for this for years, pretty much as long as he remembered. The captain had always been honest about his life. He knew that he was born somewhere in Faerun, and that he had been the son of a very wealthy family, possibly even nobleborn. The Leathertails had taken his parents ship and killed them, but seeing the young red dragonborn, at that point just around a year old, the captain decided to keep him. Since then, he’d lived aboard, learning to sail, navigate, and fight. He loved the captain and the crew - their tales of the sea, the songs and the storms. As a teenager, surrounded only by the clan, he had little sense of morality or society outside of what they taught him.
And now here he was, staring at what would be his first battle. And as he looked, for a second the adrenaline rush cleared. It wasn’t an exactly an army he was looking at. He stood facing about ten people. Only two - hired guards, he guessed - looked at all dangerous, but even they were shaking as they held up their short swords. The rest were just sailors, they held up swords and axes as if to fight but their stances were wrong, they gripped their weapons in the wrong places, their armour wasn’t fastened properly, exposing weak points. This wasn’t going to be a fight, it was going to be a massacre.
But then the adrenaline kicked in again like nothing before, and as the other dragonborn started to appear beside him, he charged. His rapier quickly found its way into one of the guards throats. It went through easily and a mixture of agony and realisation went over the mans face all at once as he collapsed. The others went down just as quickly, and Taz found himself face to face with the last standing enemy: a human boy, about his age, with tears in his eyes as he held his sword far too far from his body. Taz ran over to him, tripped him, and pressed his muscular arm against the throat of the boy until he stopped moving. He looked up for approval from his clan, and found plenty. They cheered, laughing and encouraging him.
After that, Taz would be known as thrae virlym draconic for the air thief, and strangling or choking this became his signature move, every time getting a cheer from his older brothers.
But there was one still detail he never told anyone, maybe the only secret he ever kept form the clan. That night, he had an incredibly vivid dream, in which the boy he had choked had turned him round and choked him instead. He woke up gasping for breath, shaking and sweating, and from then every time he choked someone in real life, he would have the dream again, and it was always the first boy he killed in the dream, his blue eyes filled with tears as he stared coldly into Taz's.
