Dearly Departed

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An undead citadel created before the cataclysm, Sahova is devoted to all kinds of magical research. The living may visit the island, if they are willing to obey its rules. [Lore]

Dearly Departed

Postby Isikais on April 9th, 2010, 9:05 pm

Dearly Departed
4th Night of Spring 510 AV


The docks of Sahova were always quiet. Even when filled to capacity, which was an occurrence more rare than the eclipse, the three piers did not hum with activity. There was no dockside market, no haggling merchants, no jubilant exchange of news from afar. Most of the time visitors never left their ships if they could help it. The unlucky crew that had to unload more than just a few boxes would scurry about their business in silence, afraid that any noise might attract the ire of some unknown evil listening from the shadows. The merchants that arrived at Port Silence did their business with the soulless golems of Sahova and departed without desire or need of communication with the islands undead inhabitants. This was the exchange that every captain and crew expected when they arrived at Port Silence.

It was no surprise to Isikais, therefore, that the several crew members of the Zephyr stood perfectly still as he approached their vessel. Each of them, dirtier and more rugged than the next, eyed him with expressions born of suspicion and fear. None had ever seen a Nuit before that day. Nothing had ever gone wrong enough or been important enough to warrant the attention of the Masters of the Citadel.

It was not often that Isikais deigned to dress himself, but for today's business, clothing would be a necessary accessory. First he donned a fine set of trousers, a shirt and a vest. Society, he had learned when very young, assigns meaning and status to a man based on his attire. Then, as if to conjure all the fears he knew they would harbor, he wrapped himself in a fine black traveler's cloak, hood drawn up, obscuring most of his features in the dull moonlight. Isikais could easily pass for a wraith floating silently up to the men, the chill breeze of the evening sea, and the rhythmic crash of waves announcing the arrival of some long dead horror. From the shadows of the hood he spoke in even tones, to no man in particular.

"I require an audience with your captain. Bring him here." The men looked at each other, trying to determine which of them would have to deliver the unfortunate news. After several rounds of head nodding and nudging, the largest of the men voiced up.

"Cap'ns not here. He's off with one-a those things finishin up 'fore we shove off." He waited a moment for a response from the dark figure. When none came he chimed up again. "First mate's here though. I'cn go get em if ya want?"

"That will suffice." Isikais said evenly, and before he could finish the four syllables, the man had already turned and nearly sprinted up the gang-plank. The others stood unmoving, eyes locked onto the figure as though it might attack at any moment. Less than a minute passed before a taller lithe man approached the edge of the ship's side and hurried down the gang-plank. Dressed in modestly nicer clothing, he rushed between the men and approached Isikais with a slight deferential bow.

"How can I..."

"I seek passage on your ship to Zeltiva. I will pay you 20 Gold Mizas." Isikais interrupted, uninterested in the formalities of communication and trade. He extended a small pouch from within the folds of his cloak, that jingled with his motion. The First Mate blinked wild confusion at the abrupt demand. He paused for a moment before conjuring up a response.

"I'm sorry...sir?" He seemed to be searching for any way to say 'no' politely. "The Zephy isn't able to accommodate guests. Cap'ns the only one has proper quarters, the rest is crew bunks and cargo hold."

"Very well then, I will travel in your cargo hold, but I will only pay you 15 Gold Mizas for your services. I do not require food or water, and I need neither bed, nor light, nor company." Isikais opened the pouch and removed five Gold Mizas, stepping forward and presenting the pouch to the First Mate again. He paused only long enough for the mans eyes to go to the pouch and then he dropped it. Instinctively the man caught it, looking almost distraught as he did. Isikais continued toward the gangplank, without waiting for a response from the man, moving away as quietly as he approached the men.

The first mate looked to the other men, who turned alternately from the receding black figure to their leader, still holding the bag of Gold Mizas as though it were covered in poison. The first mate shook his head as the men all sighed to themselves. If it were any port other than Port Silence, they would have erupted into shouting disapproval by now. Instead the first mate simply watched as the figure made its way toward the entrance to the lower decks, and once out of sight said simply:

"Welcome aboard."

The story continues in Zeltiva - Bring Out Your Dead
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Dearly Departed

Postby Tarot on April 20th, 2010, 9:16 pm


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