Private Tales First Impressions

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Imagine he would have to, for Learien gave him no hints on the matter. He lead Afanas along the docks heading east where the dept of the port grew deeper and the larger fishing and whaling vessels often parked to offload their latest bounty. Lining the inland portion of the dockyard were storage and processing facilities as well as larger warehouses.

Toward the end of the dockyard, a slew of smaller trade ships marked by a horned mermaid gently rocked alongside the docks. People milled about, and somewhere among them was the same komodo from the evening Afanas first met the redheaded Lady. Zeviir coordinated the movement of large crates and goods both on and off of his ships. Among those being lifted via nets from the ships and to the landing area before the warehouses were a slew of large, burnished barrels big enough that Afanas could have fit in them with room to spare.

On the warehouses themselves were carpenters shoring up the roof and structure of each. The chorus of saws and hammers putting timber to play echoed beyond the whistles and calls of the ships.

It was as busy as an anthill. Lear paused as several men pushed a cart past, loaded with wooden cases whose contents clinked and clattered.

Into the first warehouse they stepped, Lear's gaze panning through the area he'd left the Lady to her work and finding her vibrant red hair suspiciously missing. A whistle sounded from above, drawing his gaze up and that is where he spotted her standing on one of the many catwalks that ran the full length of the building.

"Good day, Mr. Afanas. Look what we found," she called down to him and gestured with a gloved hand toward the back where the workers had uncovered a nearly complete skeleton of a massive whale.

"And what are you going to do with that?" Lear asked.

"Make it into a chandelier, of course," Lorelei chuckled amusedly, "be a good Lad and help the men rig up the skull so I can pull it into place."
 
Afanas, not expecting to see Lorelei in the middle of an excavating mission, couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the scenario unfurling before him. It stank, the whale skeleton. It stank of brine, rotten seaweed, fat gone sour, and something else he couldn't quite put a finger on. His sensitive nose protested vehemently.

"Hello, Lorelei," he spoke softly, an air of quiet curiosity bleeding through his words.


Afanas came closer, cast an inquisitive glance about the place, and trained his gaze on the workmen as they worked meticulously to excavate the whale's skeletal remains.

"There was a ship I served on, 45 years ago. The captain was a sorcerer. He fused the body of a dead whale to the ship's underside and kept it animated through what I can only assume was necromancy."

"It was simultaneously the ugliest and fastest seafaring vessel I stepped a foot on."
 
The excavation of the bones was simply the effort of removing them from large shipping crates packed with straw. At some point, the original whaling business proprietor had intended to deliver the skeleton whole to some King - but during the syzygy the man had lost his entire fleet of whaling ships as well as his fortune. Now forced to sell the remains of his business, it would be up to Lorelei to salvage what she could, if she wanted.

There was enough whale oil here to turn a healthy profit. The bones? She intended to keep the skeleton for herself as a novelty.

"Is that so?" she said in response to Afanas' story, voice filtering down through the din of work in the warehouse, her steps along the catwalk above in accompaniment, "How utterly macabre."

Certainly not to her tastes.

"What were you doing serving on a ship?"
 
"Hired muscle," he replied, his tone flat. It wasn't a pleasant experience for him.

Although incapable of experiencing seasickness due to his racial traits, Afanas found that being surrounded by open sea as far as the eye could stretch day in and day out was depressing, to say the least.

His displeasure culminated with him sinking into a melancholic state of mind, which even today made it difficult for him to undertake voyages by sea unless absolutely necessary.

"Surprisingly enough, it was a trading vessel that exported arms from Cerak At'Thul. In return, the captain supplied the denizens of the Black Bay with fresh food, since not much of anything can successfully grow in that decrepit shithole."

He stole a glance in Lear's direction.

What was the man's association with Lorelei? Was he a friend of hers? Did he work as an indentured servant for her? Was he there to fill out the same niche as the Komodi he saw earlier?
 
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"I see..." Lorelei had taken a crossing walk to the other side to keep an eye on the containers presently making their way in to the warehouse. She had no experience with Cerak, though she had heard of the place. As of right now, it was a non-matter, though Zeviir had mentioned looking into it later on. Once all the larger pieces of her puzzle had been put in place.

Further down the warehouse toward the back, Lear carefully helped the other men weave pulley ropes through the massive whale skull.

"Was there something you wished to use my time for?" Lore spoke again, having returned to the area of the catwalk above Afanas where she leaned on the railing with both elbows. She raised her brows at him expectantly, eyeing his new outfit with some curiosity.
 
"Straight to business, eh?" He chuckled and readjusted the sword strapped to his hip.

The damned thing was too long to be carried that way, and it kept banging against various hard surfaces whenever Afanas walked or otherwise shifted his body.

"I'll need an advisor, Lorelei. I am no good at political intrigues, and you seem like a woman plenty adept at navigating herself in courtly matters. If you cannot stay in Alliria much longer, then surely you can direct me to someone just as capable of fulfilling that role, no?"



He looked, his dark eyes scanning her face for a flicker of recognition, a reaction, anything.

"Ah, and, if you would be so kind as to descend to the ground level, I have something to show you. It pertains to the deal I've struck with King Jürgen."
 
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Rather clumsy and careless of him to be wearing his weapon in such a way, Lorelei noted to herself with a slight raise of a brow as he spoke. Her hands wove together while she leaned against the handrail, there was no sign of the ring given to her being anywhere on her figure.

"I can offer advisement in passing, Mr. Afanas, though my grandson would be able to offer you more... substantive assistance once he has the time." She looked the man over, taking in his new ensemble without comment before rising and making her way to the ladder that ran along one of the warehouse's support beams. Rather than take it rung by rung, she clamped her hands on either side of the ladder's siderails and then did the same with her boots, sliding down with the calm, practiced ease of one not tethered to the title of Lady.

"You have an hour of my time," Lorelei said to him as she gently dusted off her pant legs and moved to join him, "much to do."
 
Afanas motioned for her to follow and leisurely made his way towards the exit. Once outside of the warehouse, he gestured at twin columns of heavily armed men positioned no more than twenty yards away from where he stood.

There were at least two dozen of them, all clad in sets of maroon-colored plate armor encrusted with images of death and slaughter. Their helmets, which covered all but their eyes, were fashioned in the likeness of evil beasts, completed with stylized wings, gaping maws, and jagged fangs.

Not one of them uttered a single word, although it became increasingly evident by the way their hands moved to the hilts of their swords that they acknowledged Afanas' presence.

"I brought this little group with me for a presentation. The council wanted to make sure they were getting a bang for their buck by partnering with me."

"There are hundreds more on the way, thousands if Jürgen is feeling charitable."

The tallest of the lot stepped forward, carrying a heraldic flag upon a long metal pole. A great dragon, with spread wings and a long looped tail, lay inked upon the fabric, unfurled and raging with outstretched claws. The dragon clutched a human skull in its claws, and under it ran a single word in Gothic lettering: DRAKULYA.
 
"I see."

In the general sense of the term, the small Squadron he'd allotted was impressive. The armor and weaponry looked to be a high quality, the attention to detail of good calibre. The men looked strong, healthy, battle-fit, and seemed well-trained, if one could judge such a thing by watching them stand at attention with nary a blink out of order.

The thing about it all that mistified her the most was what on earth she had to do with any of it. Was he trying to show off? Was he seeking approval? Was he trying to threaten?

"And how can my skills and experience in navigating courtly manners help you with this?"
 
"It's fairly straightforward, frankly. Someone has been embezzling money intended to fund the city watch. As a result, their pay has been reduced, their living conditions have deteriorated, and their pensions have become almost non-existent. Now, I know what you're thinking: it sounds like the typical case of greedy bureaucracy cutting corners."

He audibly sighed and directed the banner-bearer to lower it in order to reduce the prominence of the draconian symbol. The locals were likely to be frightened by its display.

"But, concomitantly, the merchant princes have begun importing more and more foreign mercenaries to be used as private security. Methinks that they are trying to seize the monopoly on violence from the council by weakening the city watch until they can either outmuscle it or convince the constables to defect to their side."

"I would appreciate it greatly if you or your grandson could investigate and identify the perpetrators of these frauds. I don't want them knowing I'm onto them, after all. If I can take them by surprise, I'll require no more than a dozen men to dismantle whatever rag-tag wannabe private army they've assembled."
 
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