Private Tales A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

[Aimsir Dockish]

"Aismir? Aismir?!"

"AISMIR!"

The boy groaned restlessly in his bunk. It was too early for all this, he thought.

"Aismir I will drag you if I have to!"

"I'm getting up- I'm up, I'm up."

Aismir rubbed the sea-salt from his eyes, opening them to the light of morning, split through the boards above him. He rolled himself sideways, his feet landing on the damp timbers below. He ran his fingers through his hair, a futile effort to tame its messiness. He pulled his boot-buckles tight, and stood up, careful to balance himself against the waves moving beneath him. Before going up the steps of their ship, he grabbed his Oak staff that had been hanging from the netting beside them. He'd been given it by his mother after his naming day, capped on each end with Bronze, family etchings running through its middle.

"What is it? I almost got a full night's rest..."

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better Lad, drinks're on me tonight. Sure won't have to wait too long, look ahead."

Aismir cast his eyes forward, and there it was, for all to behold,

Eagle-drop Island.

More specifically, the port of Kite Town, where Aismir had grown up his whole life. Not that there'd be anywhere else to grow up on Eagle-drop Island, as Kite Town was the only one of its kind on the whole land-mass.

"Hey, as long as you're buyin'."

They pulled into port, unloading last night's catch. A large amount of fresh fish and crustaceans.

"Hard tide Boio?" Asked old Paddy. As long as Aismir could remember Paddy had been working the boats, cleaning the boats and unloading catches. Amazingly, Aismir could have sworn that he hadn't aged a day in all the time he'd known him.

"Light waves were up last night Paddy, little reason for me to be there, to tell the truth."

"Oh dontcha worry Boio, go grab yerself a cup-full, I'll be sure to join yas' later." Paddy said, jovial and gleeful.

"See you there." Said Aismir, as he walked off of the port, and into the town.

You'd only need to glance at the streets to know that Kite Town was steeped in history; Its cobble flooring stretched on and on and on, the stones bearing a fine shimmer due to the amount of times they've been walked on. The local church that stretched towards the sky, built around the same time of the founding of the very island itself. The smell of fish and salt did hang in the air, but the people didn't mind that so much, as the smells they looked forward to were hiding in the shops, the sweet scent floating out of the Baker's, sweet pastries and pasties. But Aismir had other ideas, he was thirsty. And when you were thirsty in Kite Town, there was only one place to go-

"WELCOME BACK TO THE GREASY FOUNTAIN YA' DAFT BASTARD!" Bellowed large Sam, who was loud as he was large. The owner of the Tavern, so called 'The Greasy Falcon', was the happiest fellow you'd ever meet, his belly as full of laughter and comedy as it was sheep sausages and fatty fish. The Tavern itself was mostly empty - as it was still early - except for a small group of sailors, not much older than Aismir, sitting on the round corner table.

"Ale, please."

Sam pulled a tankard seemingly out of nowhere, already full of Aismir's drink of choice. He laughed a little to himself, before taking a long swig of the refreshing drink from the cold iron of the perspiring tankard.

Wish something would happen today.

 

[Velle]

»How's was th' catch, « Sam winked and gave a wide smile, putting his thick, hairy hand upon the counter.
His voice was raspier than the last time.

 

[Aimsir Dockish]

"Well, went fine, all in all. Mainly Western-crest Crab, 'part from a little Steepe's Cod. Seem to be getting a lot of that recently." Aismir said, taking another swig of the cold ale. He kept throwing the occasional glance at the sailor's table. He knew them all of course, but it didn't make them friends; on an island this small, you got to know everyone. Including all their secrets.

"Given leavin' the Island any more thought?" Sam asked, again in the same raspy tone. That's how you knew he was being more serious, when his light and bubbly demeanour changed in the subtlest of ways.

"Father needs me to stay on another few seasons 'fore I even think of leavin'," He paused and looked down into the emptying tankard.

"Looks like I'm goin' nowhere Sam. 'Least I got the Greasy Falcon!" He laughed a little, and winked and Sam, a hint of sadness within his voice.

 

[Velle]

Above the wooden rafters of the ceiling, the steps of multiple people began to dent in the wooden flooring.
»Aye that old dog, he-«

Sam's face slowly turned serious as the noise continued.
»Listen kiddie,« he leaned in. »We've got some strange guests from outta ere. Got skin black as night and eyes white-er than milk, I say ye...«
He slowly shut up as he flinched back in place.

Past Aismir reached dark hand, black as plums and blue grapes. It was well groomed and without a marr, as if it's owner never saw a day of hard work.

CLINK
it dropped coins upon the counter.

 

[Aimsir Dockish]

"Ya' say I do wha-" Aismir was interrupted by the sound of coins plinking and plonking off of the wooden table-top.

He noticed the hand that dropped them there; clean and without blemish, but most noticeably was its skin, dark as night. They definitely weren't the hands of a local, and it was rare you'd get staying visitors in Kite Town. The strange man didn't say a word, but didn't look very old, as the coins lay flat on the table.

"If you're gonna get yourself a drink, anything but the Ale. It tastes terrible." He laughed, looking at Sam satisfyingly, taking his third swig of Ale, his favourite drink, and the Tavern specialty.

 

[Velle]

Sam seemed to back off quietly as he collected the coin.

The man was a tall, forboding elf with a chiselled face and brown hair as dark as the night. He didn't say anything to Aismir, only gave him a brief grim stare.

»Thank you for letting us stay,« the elf slurred, his voice neither pleasant nor nice. »I'll take one more of the Bourevine liquor.«
Sam nodded.

He wasn't the only elf, there was an entire group of them, some looked like elaborate upper-class mages, others were mercenaries of various creeds and origins.
But one person stood out.
A single child held tightly in the grip of one of the adults.

 

[Aimsir Dockish]

As the dark-skinned fellow ordered his drink, Aismir turned towards the strange man, who immediately struck him as an Elf. Anyone with dark skin and pointy ears could hardly be anything else. He certainly didn't expect the group that surrounding him however, all cloaked, some staved. You only saw two sorts of men using Staves, cripples and Wizards, and these men certainly didn't strike Aismir as needing help walking.

And the mercenary-looking fellows didn't set the tone very well.

Moreover, Bourevine liquor? He couldn't think of a more opposite drink to Ale. Maybe he took him too seriously?

He could feel Sam's eyes on him. Something smelled funny about this whole situation.

"So... you passin' through Kite Town? Don't get too many Elves. Certainly not Magic Casters. Though, I do dabbl-" He felt Sam tap the table, as if to tell him to stop talking. He finished his Ale. Though his magic was certainly vocational, it didn't mean he hadn't a interest in the higher arts.

 

[Velle]

The little kid tried to capture the gaze of Aimsir. To him at least, he seemed the most normal looking person so far.
Or perhaps he was intrigued on how this could transpire.
Nicodemus was never the sort of humour people with pleasantries.

»-You better stay on your seat, child. I do not meddle with the common folk,« his voice trailed away as he turned, taking the drink Sam just gave him with the sort of motion as a bird of prey would take a mouse.

 

[Aimsir Dockish]

Now he just felt offended. Some dark-skinned Elf walks into the local Tavern and calls him common folk? Well, he was common folk, but he deserved just as much respect as any high-lord.

And 'child'?!

"And you can't take a seat because you've got a stick up your arse, is that it?" He probably shouldn't have said that, but maybe they'd take it as light banter. He could feel Sam glaring at him.

 

[Velle]

The dark elf idly waved his hand as he returned to his entourage.
His demeanour as he left only hinted that he thought nothing of Aismir other than being unworthy of the elf's time.

The group, however, shared glares with the youth.
Only the little kid seemed to look with concern in his eyes.
Or perhaps boredom.
It was hard to tell with the blank eyes they had.

 

[Aimsir Dockish]

Aismir could not believe it. Not a retort? A word? The utterance of the most measly syllable? Unlike his Ale, he could not stomach how this Dark Elf seemed to dismiss their dialogue.

"Oh, let me guess, a Dark-Elf such as yourself is too highborn to speak to a man? You just gonna ignore me and return to the little party parade you' got with you?"