Thread: Empire of the Sun: Crossing the Maelstrom (Roman and Ohm)

In the brightening pre-dawn hour over the harbor town of Eraystor, the terminal end of the old imperial highway extending from Pala Louis Gardnyr pulled his oilskin cloak over his shoulders as he hobbled down the road, glancing over his path to make sure that the awfully constructed peg leg Tasuum! The damned thing works just fine shipboard, and thas enough of that! wouldnt trip him up as Garudas sorrow poured out of the sky, as it did just about every day in Osheaga. To an exquisitely artistic mind, perhaps the piddle-paddle of the raindrops in the nascent puddles scattered here and about on the dusky towns street might have seemed appreciatively meaningful. Louis was not of that inclination, or any such thing in particular mind you unless it concerned drinkin, whorin or sailin. Oh, and then there was the will of the Captain to be considered, and that thought rekindled the bosuns purpose, such as it presently was. He gave a sigh of some resignation, having engaged in this chore too many times before and had it performed his fair share as well, but never quite able to escape the aura of embarrassment that always abounded. He scratched the isolated gray hairs that remained affixed to his head and came at last, drenched despite the best efforts of the well-stitched and constructed oilskin, to the taverns stark wooden door. Thunder seemed in time with his strong fist knocking onto the hatch before him. He folded his hands, the left of which was missing two fingers from an unfortunate gunnery incident some years agone, and waited. He was not kept in the position long but like any proper salty, he had reason enough to bitch to himself while the proprietor on the inside finally waddled his hungover arse to doorway and opened the gatekeepers window. Who goes dere at tis time of the morn? The crusted, black haired and bearded tavern man demanded, his brow noticeably narrowing despite his noticeably dark skin creating a distinct lack of contrast, not that this was of any particular concern to Louis. Its Louis, you Jackal halfwit, the senior seaman, who had a voice that was well known among his fellows as one that could the fear of Garuda into a ships boy and give even a Kraken a few moments to consider its options, growled out. Im ere for the Capn. Ay? Which captin be that, now? The man at the door, who in a clear light would become identifiable straightaway as a scion of Iram, unaffected by Louis clear insult, though a third generation Osheagan Irami probably would be , Louis thought. Just let me in. If Capn Ahrmahk finds out that you held me up from deliverin a Palan charter to him, the things Ill do to you once I break down tha fuckin door are going to seem quite pleasant. Trust me, they wont. Oh, hush hush hush, hush your face now, I let cha in. The Irami barkeep smirked, and backed away as the heavy door creaked on its hinges. Your captain be over there, KOd. Don be surprised, he got imself enough rum and nightbox last night for a real time. Louis sighed, but there would be no point in admonishing Cayleb yet again, and for whatever reason, once he was up and goin, the Captain never seemed to be affected by the usual longer-term consequences of that lifestyle. And Louis knew he would follow the man straight into the maelstrom even if that wasnt the case. As had been indicated by the Irami, Cayleb was konked out against the far bulkhead of the tavern, seeming content with his hand still clasped around his mug and the fire opposite his table crackling. The man did know how to have a good time. The bosun took off his oilskin, strolled up to the table after briefly warming his hands in the fire, and took a seat opposite his Master after Garuda at Sea, damn it all. Louis paused for a moment, then reached out and prodded him. Softly, then harder. Capn. Capn! Shshhou call that a lapdance? Id have a fairer chance of gettin off swimmin in the maelstrom Cayleb Ahrmahk mumbled, clearly still living a dream, or his experiences from the night before. His eyes slowly opened. Louis punched him in the shoulder. Ay, Capn, get up! Huh? Cayleb blinked, then suddenly, his sapphire eyes acquired a mysterious focus. Oh. Louis. He rose, stretching out his back. Whered you come from? Louis smiled with approval. He never failed to get up and moving, he did. It was those idiots whod piss away all their cash and then need a week to sleep it off that were always a problem for any self-respecting band of Charisian privateers. Gmornin, sahr. I got something for us. They came right on the ship, but it shows real promise. Im listening. And the bosun believed him. Even in this state, that gaze, that dagger black beard complemented the imposing chin, a posture honed through years of hard work at sea and Garuda only knew what else and those eyes Louis cleared his throat. Some noble wench from Pala, I think. Im not entirely sure. Very careful, that one. Travelin alone aboard a privateer ship, perhaps she has a right to be. But the moneys good. Take a look. Just as the bosun was handing over the bag containing the advance payment, the door opened, this time without the assistance of the taverns proprietor. That seemed a little odd, given that the Irami had barred it behind the Bosun. The woman who came through it was a bit more impressive.