Chicken Of the Sea... [Flashback](Bob)

[Mortemor Thane II]

Spring 17th 502 AV Mortemor perched herself at the end of one of the massive docks, hoping that the cargo still being unloaded and left unattended to along the wooden planks, would hide her presence and allow her a moment of peace and escape from the inhabitants of Zeltiva. Being that Mortemor was young, she was able to walk about the dock without so much as a shiver down her spine, this was before the time she had developed a phobia of the water. The eleven year old flipped happily through the book in her lap; examining the large and intricate bird illustrations that covered most of the pages within. Her short chubby legs hung over the uneven dock planks, dangling only a few feet from the salty ocean below. Now most little girls her age would be off helping their mothers, or playing dolls with other girls of the same age. But Mortemor love was in books, and although she was not allowed in the City library, she found others ways to get her small hands on the leather-bound treasures. Her father also encouraged the habit, and after coming back from long journeys to foreign lands, he would come bearing entire bookshelves for his Jr. to read. This one was among her favorite. But it was not solely for peace and quiet, that Mortemor hid herself away. It was other dangers that lurked the streets, in the form of unkempt bullies. The packs of scoundrels-in-training usually consisted of the sons of sailors gone away for weeks on end; leaving their children to run rampart and cause trouble for their mothers. If they had mothers… Mortemor was a constant target for antagonizing; her father’s status as a merchant and the fact that she had both parents seemed to call more attention to her. Each time she tried to find a nice quiet place to play by herself, out would emerge a group of dirt smudged bullies looking to cause her a headache. So far they hadn’t discovered her new reading ground in the docks, or at least that’s what she hoped. “Well, well… if it ain’t lil’wortemor…” A twang voice uttered from behind one of the large cargo boxes. Out stepped a familiar face Mortemor automatically identified as an enemy. She never bothered to commit any of her bullies names or faces to memory, being that it was all but useless to report them. Telling their parents seemed to have no effect, either; even if the rotten offspring’s guardian could be located. “What do you want…” Mortemor uttered in a small yet dull and annoyed voice. She never took her eyes off her book. Being so small and weak, she was basically defenseless against them; and if there was one bully, there was more. Because for them, safety meant numbers and numbers meant power. So therefore, Morte found herself faced with 3 young boys; all smiling venomously and closing in slowly. Mortemor thought about jumping into the ocean and taking her chances with the sharks and the other predatory creatures that lurked in the waters below; rather than having to face to wrath of these neglected and bitter boys. But one of the older boys had already caught her up by the collar of her dress and pulled her to her feet; dragging her away from the edge of the dock. She sighed, looking down at the hem of her skirt. “Should have taken the sharks…”

[Bob Barton]

So here in the middle of the docks was a damsel in distress and the three little monsters which were attacking her. What was Bob's part in the scene? Absolutely nothing but a spectator. The passive role in society which was far worse than these bullies themselves because it was the same attitude which allowed them to run rampant without opposition. Was there ever a reason to think that Bob would rush to her rescue? Not unless she was really cute and he was sure that he would win anyway. No chance of that since the girl was only eleven and three boys against one Bob always translated into a hurt Bob.

Too bad for lil'wortemor then because this little prospect of getting hurt is not something Bob looks forward to. If it was really bad then it means having to go see a doctor. And that translates to either his uncle or someone he knows in the field. Not a very good thing considering he just ran from home seasons back to get away from dear old uncle Marny.

The docks have been one of the usual spots for a quite a while now, with good reason. For Bob, there were a lot of interesting characters to meet here. Not stupid little bullies. Real interesting people like sailors who have seen the world, merchants who knew all sorts of things and travelers who have went from Zeltiva to everywhere else. How Bob envied them. He turned his head left and right to see if there was anyone he could ask to help the little girl since he himself wouldn't but there was not a familiar face among them.

Tough luck little girl, you're on your own.

[Mortemor Thane II]

“Coward…” Mortemor murmured under her breath as she was dragged along. A short young man stood by watching the scenario unfold, but he did nothing to stop them, not even as much as a shout. Mortemor felt an even deeper disdain for Zeltiva now; knowing that there were no righteous people left in the barnacle incrusted port city. “…All cowards…” Morte’s voice was small, the tone of it only reaching her own ears as she whispered sadly. “Whut’s this?” One of the other boys ripped the book from the halfling’s hand and held it up for the others to see. He examined it closely, unable to make sense of the words and symbols scribbled on the papers. Hardly any of the sailor children knew what books were or how to read. “—it’s a book, idiot…” The little girl grumbled flatly, her fat cherubic cheeks puffing out in frustration. “It’s for people with functioning brains… Not that you know what a brain is…” “Whut didja say?” Morte’s words had been picked up by the young thug’s keen ears. RrrrrIIIIIIiiipppppPP --!! The little scoundrel grabbed a fist full of pages, and torn them from the spine of the book, tossing the pages off the docks and into the sea; where the delicate sheets of paper melted into salt waters, taking all the knowledge and beautiful pictures of birds with it. The young girl gasped and charged forward to reprimand the small rogue, brandishing her fists high in the air. “I’ll kill you --!!” A fearsome and almost inhuman growl rumbled from Mortemor's throat as tears flowed from her eyes. She wanted to bludgeon the defiler of books to death. Unfortunately, the pack leader’s wing men were waiting for such an opportunity, and surged her. Sweeping her up and knocking her down, her outburst alone was enough to frenzy them; and they came down on her with several kicks and punches. Knocking her small frame to the wooden planks of the dock, they gathered and laughed at their handy-work, prodding her mockingly with their feet. Mortemor, having taken a kick to the head; laid dazed and sprawled out on the docks, helpless, but still conscious enough to hear her attacker’s laughter; a sound that burned in her heart and in her head. She chewed at her lips wishing she could summon the strength of any of the gods who would hear her, pleading for them to strike her foes down right here and now, but she had no such luck. She heard the shuffling of footsteps, and saw one of the young thugs hurl her book toward the roof of one of the dockyard warehouses, where most of the imports and exports were kept until they could be delivered. There was a loud crash as the sound of glass shattering split the air; and the leather bound “Hatcher’s Handbook,” went sailing through one of the windows at the very top. The book was now locked away with the rest of the merchandise. One of the tiny assailants looked back at Mortemor and smiled, “So much for your book…” Suddenly a glint caught his eye, and he noticed a bright blue bead shining in Mortemor’s startling red hair. He stepped closer noticing how it glistened in the light. “I’ll take that,” He clutched at it and pulled disregarding the fact that it had been woven into her braid. Mortemor felt a sharp tug and winced, but launched up mindlessly when she realized that it was the bead her mother had crafted for her that he was after. “Get your hands off me!!” Another growl ripped through her throat, she wouldn’t let him have this! Not her most precious treasure! It was more than a bead! It was a symbol! A symbol of all of her hopes, and dreams; and how her mother saw those aspirations sparkle within her young one. Mortemor couldn’t let it be stolen from her by some common street rat. NO! He’d have to kill her! The little girl’s finger curled into claws and latched into the shoulders of the little thief with renewed strength and vigor; and she pressed with all her might threatening to send him off the piers! “You want it so badly??!! Take it!!!” The small bastard piped in a final scornful shout. Only for an instant did Mortemor Jr. feel the pain as the braid and all was yanked from her head and tossed up toward the window to join the “Hatcher’s Handbook”. Mortemor couldn’t feel the tears in her eyes this time. Her heart was so filled with hatred in that moment that all she could think of was pushing the little bastard into the ocean. Which is what she did. SPLASH!! He sailed off the dock with one violent, furious shove from the halfling’s tiny arms. Red glazing over Mortemor’s vision, as she watched him be swallowed up by the ocean. His two buddies went scrambling for the side of the dock to rescue their comrade. Leaving Mortemor to be for the moment. She walked a short distance away from the scene of drowning street rats, as they attempted to pull their friend from the icy waters. Mortemor was more concerned with retrieving the few pages that had landed on the dock and had not been carried into the ocean by a drifting ocean breeze. One by one she plucked the pages up, sniffing sadly as though she were mourning a fallen friend. She ignored the fact that the trio would soon be regrouped, and back on her in a few moments.

[Bob Barton]

"Foolish? Or brave." Bob wondered to himself as he was watching the girl. She was deliberately insulting the bullies and thats definitely a no-no unless you want to get trouble. Which exactly happened when her book got ripped and the girl started to get beaten up on.

Thats no way to treat a lady but there was nothing Bob could do alone. So he ran off from his spot, along the docks to see if he can find anyone to help. Either today was a slow day or this warehouse area is a quiet one because Bob was not able to find anyone. Actually he did find someone but that person was too busy to help. "A girl getting beaten up by some boys you say? I don't have time to get into a child's fight." the man he found said before going on with his work. There was nothing else he can do then so Bob started to head back and see if he could do any damage control.

Bob reached back just in time to see the end of it all when the girl shoved one of the bullies into the water. A smile and chuckle came on his face seeing that happen. That a little girl was still able to take on a bunch of bullies and...win? Was it really a victory for her when her book was destroyed? The only thing she would have accomplished is make the bullies treat her more worse the next time they meet. That was at the best result. The worst is if the boy somehow drowned in the ocean. Bob didn't want to think about that.

Slowly the torn pages of the book was being collected from the docks. Bob didn't have to worry about the boy getting drowned any longer because it looked like his friends are already pulling him out. But now the person to worry about is the little girl. Its easy to see it. The anger and humiliation on the bullies faces. If anyone thought what the bullies were doing to her earlier was bad, whatever they would think of next would be worse. Bob can't just stand watching now. He had to do something before the girl experiences the full extent of the bullies capabilities.

Ideas and reasons started forming to see what could be done to stop the bullies. "Bullies are only brave when they are bigger and more..." Bob thought to himself seeing that their victim was only one little girl. Even if he did rush over to help her now they still have one more person and all three are definitely bigger than the girl and Bob. So just having just Bob was out of the question and already the people at the docks are no help. What to do...what to do...

Best thing to do is to try and chase them off without bringing in any physical elements. Bob stepped back a little out of view and started running down the docks. Stamping his feet at he ran to bring the group's attention to himself. Running and stamping was not a good combination, the force of impact really hurt but he'd take that pain than the alternative.

"Clomp! Clomp! Clomp!" Bob went down the docks, lifting each foot as high as possible and bring it down as hard as possible to make the loudest noise. When he was sure the attention of the bullies were on him instead of the little girl, he crossed his legs to make himself trip with a loud "BOOM!" Acting panicked he moved his head side to side to make himself look bewildered before finally looking at the group of bullies. "What are you fools still doing here? Run! Rannil and his crew is coming and gods save whoever is around when they do." Rannil was one of the biggest bullies which Bob knew who prowled around the docks. Hopefully his reputation was good enough to make the rest of these small timers run off without question.

Bob took his time to get up. Making himself look weakened from the fall with his shaking limbs. Once the bullies would leave he will jump up and see if the little girl was alright. Maybe he can get some kind of reward himself as well? If she had that nice dress and books it just means she comes from a family who can really afford it.

[Mortemor Thane II]

Gathering the loose pages into a manageable stack, Mortemor suddenly heard the sound of heavy boots pounding against the wooden dock. The young girl slowly lifted her gaze, half-expecting to see a group of half wet boys rushing at her once more; but she was surprised to see the short young man from earlier, come flying out from behind a stack of boxes. His body airborne for a moment before it came crashing down onto the wooden planks, the momentum sent him sliding a few inches before he stopped and frantically looked around. With an expression of terror on his face; he shouted, “What are you fools still doing here? Run! Rannil and his crew is coming and gods save whoever is around when they do." Like a pack of omega wolves that smelt the alpha coming; the bullies didn’t even have enough time to mock Mortemor once more, before turning on heel and fleeing from the docks. Morte, herself, was smart enough to make herself scarce when the bigger ‘dogs’ were about and as quickly as the bullies had fled; had Morte stashed herself away behind a large cargo box, that had had a gray tarp pulled over it. She peeked from beneath the gruel colored covering, and watched silently, expecting to see Rannil’s hulking form come morphing into view. But after a few moments, and no one of interest breaking onto the scene, Mort began to become a bit suspicious. But besides the threat of Rannil coming to finish an already terrible day for her, the little halfling had other things on her mind too. Like how was she going to get her most precious treasure back? She knew the warehouses were locked most of the day, and only opened to the dock workers. How could she get in and out without getting spotted? And how soon? If they were to move the merchandise around in there, her heirloom, along with the book would be gone forever. She had to think and act fast. The first person, who she knew was capable of pulling off such a job, was her father; the retired master-thief. But how could she convince him? Looking up into the sky, she could tell that at this time her father would be at the pub, half-drunk by now. If only she wasn’t afraid of meeting Rannil on the way, she would have sprinted off for the tavern already. Bright beryl eyes darted over to the short gentleman that had stumbled onto the scene and she quickly noticed how his demeanor changed when the bullies raced off. Maybe he had played some type of trick? What for? She couldn’t think of anyone in Zeltiva who would help someone without expecting anything in return. She stepped out from beneath the tarp and set narrow emerald pupils on him, curious yet suspicious of what the stranger wanted from her. “Who are you?” Mortemor barked in her small commanding voice.

[Bob Barton]

Lucky! Bob's trick was effective. No surprise since bullies were a stupid breed after all. Actually it must have been super effective because even the little girl ran and hid herself. Bob who was too busy getting himself up and savoring his victory didn't notice where she went. But he knew she still should be around since they were both between the bullies from earlier and the supposed Rannil's appearance which Bob lied about. She had no where else to run. The easiest way he could draw her out is to convince her that he was a friend.

After waving goodbye to the bullies who disappeared around the corner, Bob went and collected the remainder of the papers scattered on the docks. It seemed important to the girl if she could waste time picking them up instead of escaping bullies and Bob could use it to draw her out. Even if that failed, at least Bob would have some way to spend the rest of the day when he tries to read it. The pictures were pretty enough for sure. Just to remind her that now held some of her precious belongings in his hands, he went waving them around while he walked around the docks.

Bob soon came to regret his good deed for the day when the girl came out demanding for answers with an attitude. Obviously she failed to see that he was the one who saved her. Come to think of it maybe the bullies choose to pick on her not because of her being a little girl but because of how she treated others.

Only a smile came in reply and a little surprised voice while he tried to mock the girl. "I thought I was the one who saved you? And from the stories, doesn't the princess give a kiss to the one who saved her from the wicked monsters? So my little not so princess, you can save the kiss for some other hero. But I could always have the banquet in my honour." While he said princess, Bob moved his arms to follow the shape of a sexy body. Jokingly to try and illustrate why the girl does not qualify as a princess to him. He did want a free meal though. The less he had to spend, the more money he can use in the long run.

[Mortemor Thane II]

It was true, due to Mortemor's upbringing the girl had developed an arrogant and almost entitled air about herself. Up until the age of thirteen, Mortemor would continued to be coddled and pampered by her mother, to the point of where the young girl's appearance was extremely doll-like and completely unimposing and strange to the other children. But it was how her mother liked to see her daughter, and therefore Mortemor adopted a razor like attitude simply from the way others treated her. Her bright green eyes settled onto the papers in his hand. She wanted them back. Then her attention was taken by the little man's mocking statement. "I thought I was the one who saved you? And from the stories, doesn't the princess give a kiss to the one who saved her from the wicked monsters? So my little not so princess, you can save the kiss for some other hero. But I could always have the banquet in my honour." Mortemor gasped as she watched his hands make an almost inappropriate gesture; disgusted that he would reveal his true intentions in such an insulting way. 'How dare that dirty little man!' She thought narrowing piercing malachite eyes at him. '-- he expects a banquet!' "Well my troll-in-shining-armor. This 'un-princess' wouldn't even think about kissing a toad-face like you...!" She stuck her tongue straight out and wrinkled her nose thoroughly upset with the young rogue's mockery. "But I suppose you were some what helpful... If your looking for something to fill that pot-belly of yours. Best speak to my father, I'm going to go see him now anyway..." She deflated for a moment looking almost humble as she finished her sentence. "-- Now are you going to give me back my pages?" Her rigidness died off a bit, and her sharp small tone softened to a point. But the annoyance was still there, and the ache from being kicked and punched was still there, too. It was hard for the little girl to be happy about any of this. Her book had been destroyed, she had been beaten and then rescued by a pint-sized "Annoying Avenger", and her most dearest heirloom had been lost inside a spooky-looking warehouse. She sighed sadly and heavily just imagining the trouble she would to go through to get her father to help her, if he wasn't already completely drunk by now. "Is there anything else you want to trouble me for?" She asked as she held her small hand out expectantly.

[Bob Barton]

The papers were waved back and forth in front of the girls eyes. "Aren't you forgetting something? I thought princesses have more manners than that?" Bob was expecting a please at least since to him he didn't even do much for a thank you. But even if she didn't say any of that Bob would give her back the papers after a few seconds. Long enough to have his fun and teach her a little lesson about manners. He would never force something out of this girl because then he would be no better than those bullies.

Everything. From the snarky hostile comments to the cold stares was a surprise to Bob. "Never judge a book by its cover" Uncle Marny would say. From that doll-like appearance which looks so vulnerable you want to help lies a little demonic imp waiting to get at you from inside, Bob now believes that there is some truth to it. Scary, some people are very scary.

"Alright lets get going now then." Bob said smiling about going to meet her father. Then he patted his belly a little "And I am far from pot-bellied mind you!" Bob was not feeling too keen about meeting her father to mooch off some food though. With a daughter this bad the parent must be worse. A lot more worse. But if he did not follow her those bullies might come back for her with a thirst for vengeance about the dunking. Bob might a troll but armour might qualify him as a protector of sorts like a knight. But the girl was wrong about one thing. His armour was far from shining. He doesn't mind helping a bit here and there but only as long as he does not get hurt by it.

[Mortemor Thane II]

The young man waved the papers in her face teasingly, remarking on how princesses were thought to be more polite. Mortemor pouted a bit, a sour look still claiming her tiny face. “Please!!” She barked and gripped for the pages, successfully snatching them away and quickly stashing them under her arm. She felt a bit better after having her property returned and although her expression remained stern, she offered a soft but grateful, “Thank you…”

Morte led the way, ignoring the young man’s complaint about being labeled pot-bellied. Her little legs carried her only a few feet ahead of her counterpart, and she scuttled down the docks and through crowds of people with an almost arrogant urgency to her small stride. Afternoon was slowly giving way to nighttime, and a warm orange tone claimed the sky. She’d have to hurry before the Kelp bar got too rowdy.

The little red-head glanced back a few times to insure her cohort had followed along, and once she was sure he was still there. She hurried down a dusty, and trash littered pathway toward the, already unruly looking, Kelp Bar. “Try not to get trampled…” Morty warned as she approached the swinging doors into the bar. She could at least relate to the young man when it came to size.

Crash--!!

A rickety stool came flying out of one of the front windows, just as Morte jr. pushed her way into the bar. The girl strode into the rambunctious establishment as though she were a regular here herself. In fact most of the salty sailors didn’t even give her a second glance as she clawed and pushed her way further into the quickly crowding pub. The patrons had recognized her from countless other times when she had come to collect her drunken father.

Morte Jr. reached back and tugged at Bob’s sleeve; urging him to follow her, when she had spotted one of her father’s business partners and rushed over to inquire about his whereabouts.

“Old man…” Mortemor barked at the drunken merchant; the merchant was already aware of what the young lady was after.
“O’er there…” He tossed an unconcerned thumb in the direction of a dark back table. There, asleep in a half broken chair was Mortemor Sr.

The older man had strands of gray streaking through his long black hair. His skin was tanned from working in the hot sun, and the salt from the sea had begun to weather his face. Upon his chin was a tightly braided gotee. There were still traces of roguish good-looks in the aging man.

“There he is!” Morte continued to tug Bob along. The little girl marched right up to her father and nudged him violently. “Wake-up lush!!” She hissed, and prodded at the older man, who simply shifted positions and fell right back to sleep. “Wake-up!!!” Jr. barked again, this time kicking the sleeping man in the shin sharply; which succeeded in jolting him from his sleep for about 2 seconds, before he passed out once more. “By Dira’s breath! Nothing is going to wake this man…” Mortemor regarded her father in disgust and prodded at him with a small booted leg. She turned to bob, feeling a bit embarrassed that she had wasted the young man’s time. She could take the boy home with her, and let her mother feed him as a reward. She knew her father wasn’t coming home anytime soon, and she doubted he’d be aware enough to know that his portion of dinner had been eaten. But Mortemor’s heirloom kept jabbing at the back of her mind. Even if she let a day go by, the cargo in the storage could be shifted a bout, and her possession would be lost forever.

No! She couldn’t just leave it like this! The little man, and his aching stomach would have to wait; the little red-head just had to figure out a way into the warehouse. As if the goddess Yshul had been listening to little Morty’s thoughts, the young girl spotted a leather fold peeking out of her father’s jerkin, and right away recognized it as his lock picking set. The same set he had allowed her to practice with late at night, when he had her assembling and disassembling different types of locks.

Her malachite eyes darted between bob, and her father’s coat pocket. Would nothing really wake him? Her delicate hand shot out and gripped the fold tightly, tiny green eyes settled on her father’s face watching him dream in his drunken state; would he wake?

Slowly she pulled until she felt the panel of leather come loose from the inside pocket, then quickly, she clasped the bound leather to her small frame and backed away; as though expecting her father to suddenly become aware and rise from his seat. But when no reaction came, Morte relaxed, and turned back to her ‘friend’.

“I’m sorry about your reward; I’d like to feed you…. But—” She looked back at her father and sighed. “—he’s not going to be much of a help.”

“I could take you home with me… but I need to get back to the warehouse, right away.” Mortemor thumbed at the leather fabric, and turned to head towards the exit.

OOCI left it open to give your character a chance to propose a game of chance (Ex: “If I win, I get to go to your house and eat all your food , if you win, I’ll help you break into blah blah blah!”) lol or something along those lines. Just a suggestion though!

[Bob Barton]

Please and thank you were a good start but she could still use some more work since she was so impatient and grabbed the papers before Bob could do anything to give them to her. That would be a job for her father. Something Bob might want to tell when he met him though he would prefer the mother its normally the mother which is responsible for educating their daughters on ladylike behavior. Either way it would work out for Bob as long as he got his rewards for saving their daughter and so it was not that hard to get him to follow her.

"What do you mean by getting tram-" and a "CRASH!" with a flying stool flew out to the side. "Looks like a very fun place, are you sure you belong here princess?" Who would her father be among all this burly and lively sailors? A very conflicted man maybe if he was going to be in a place like this and have a daughter like that. "Wait, is that your father?" Bob asked in surprised. The man just looked so...old...and drunk. And what kind of a child would refer to her father as old man? Ok so that was not the father. In fact, the father looked a lot more worse.

He looked kind of good if you take away the drunkedness. Right now Bob could only see him as he saw all the other drunks he has been with. Nothing. Just sleeping there without life. "We could always come back later you know..." when he was a lot more sober and able to think properly. Bob wouldn't offer any help in awakening the man. Compared to those bullies from earlier he was a lot more intimidated by this one. Let the daughter handle her father. After all, family should always look out for family and Bob did not want to get involved in the affairs of this one especially with what he was witnessing now. The daughter was stealing a leather case from her father's pocket? "Whats in that?" he asked out of curiosity. Could it be mizas? If it was and Bob just...snatched it, is it considered as stealing or was it Mortemor who stole?

Feed? Feed? She just made it sound like Bob is a..."lost puppy you found on the street? I thought you were inviting me for dinner" as a reward and not out of whatever went on in little girl's heads. Now why would Bob help someone as rude as that? No, "I'm not going to any warehouse. Why should I help you now when you already owe me?" That's right, Bob was not going to do anything else unless there was something in it for him. There might be a way for him to get more after all since Mortemor was looking pretty desperate and, this was a bar full of sailors.

"Can I have that for a chime?" Bob asked a random sailor as he reached for the dice on the table and went right in front of Mortemor. "Here's what we are going to do, I'm going to give you a chance to get my help." Don't ever say Bob was unfair, he was doing something like this for free. He was not even gaining anything unless "I win, and you have to give me something extra, that one is up to you but it better be good" since he was not a criminal like the girl and he was pretty sure breaking and entering into a warehouse was a crime. "You win and I follow you into the warehouse no question. Best out of three of who guesses correctly." Depending on how the girl played the game, she might even get Bob's help even if he won. As always it depended on his "pay".

OOCI'll let you decide how the game goes or how you want to play it. You can use a dice roller if you want