Closed Troubled Waters

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

92nd of Winter, 512AV Aa the sun reached it's zenith in the sky on that day of Winter, the Anchorage Flotilla reached a peak in its activity. The usual trading and bartering was going on around the edges of the Flotilla, vendors trading for fish to sell later and fishermen and women looking to cast off their catch for some good deals while merchants of all sorts traded for a variety of interesting wares and trinkets. What caused the extra commotion however was a small beaten casinor that arrived a bell before, with a qurter-torn sail and some crossbow bolts sticking out of its cabin. Manning it were two bloodied Svefra with scratches and cuts crisscrossing their body. They were all that were left of the Riprunners, a small but lively pod that until recently had been carrying merriment wherever they went. Now, they were dead. Word had spread like wildfire across the island of decks and masts, word of the pod's encounter with an infamous pirate and their ultimate perish at that pirate's hands. A non-Svefra, one who dared blaspheme against the Sea Father and whose name had been a blight upon the North Suvan Svefra for almost six years now. He had managed to evade the Svefra for the most part somehow, almost as if he knew they were coming, but now they knew that wasn't entirely true. With the last two Riprunners' recounting of their terrible encounter with the brute and his savage crew, a horrible thought crossed the minds of those on the Anchorage: what if there had been those who found him, but simply didn't live to tell the tale? ----- Kirvan yanked the tiller to the side and his casinor lurched to the side, performing a sharp turn upwind as he drew up alongside the Anchorage. As the wind began breaking over the bow of the boat, his recently full sail began luffing as the headwind snapped it back and forth in the boom. This was traditionally called the irons for its restriction of movement in a sailboat, but that was precisely what Kirvan wanted as he dashed to the bow and grabbed a line, hopping over onto the adjacent deck before his ship drifted too far away and securing the line around the mast. That done, he quickly vaulted over the side of the boat back onto his own. He loosened the hakyard and lowered the sail so it would not block the wind, saving everyone from the really annoying noise that keeping it in would have made. Then, as a final measure, he heaved his anchor into the ocean, completing the ritual he repeated each time he visited the Anchorage. "Well," he said to his Drykas companion at long last, "here we are. The Anchorage Flotilla in all its glory and mischief. Nothing else quite like it, unless you've been to the south, they have something similar down there, but it only lasts a short while anyway. Quite a sight to see with all the various ships and vessels tied up in one place, ain't it? You're bound to find someone headed somewhere interesting in this place." Looking around at the busy boats and the people on them, he picked up on the slight increase in activity. It was to be expected - after all, the new year was just around the corner. "Seems like people here are readying up for our festival," Kirvan mused aloud, wondering if Crypt knew of it. "Wonder what people are planning this year. Hope it's something to do with food, food is always good."

[Gabrielle Seawind]

Gabrielle had heard about the nasty tale of the survivors of the Riprunners. She hadn’t heard it from their lips, but word was carried out between the Svefra quickly. Every person who passed by deck had their own version, and it was funny, for it had only been an hour earlier when the original story had been told. The survivors were on the other side of the Flotilla, and as much as she wished to go and see them for herself, she doubted she would be able to push through the crowd.

Each time she heard the story, she felt like it was becoming worse, like her kin were adding to it to make the story even more terrible. However, Gabrielle didn’t need that. She had already formulated a simple conclusion in her mind: that petching person who thought that he was even close to being a pirate needed to be hung; and he needed to be hung soon.

The Flotilla was busy, no doubt preparing for the upcoming festival. The loved this annual festival and it was terrible that news of what had happened to the Riprunners had to come in such a time.

As per usual, Gabrielle’s casinor was tied to the other ring of the Flotilla. She was chewing on some roasted fish when she saw a familiar face in the distance. Just a few boats between her casinor and his, she could see that Kirvan Deepseeker had arrived and had brought a foreigner with him.

Taking the last bite from her meal, she licked her fingers and savored the leftover saltiness. She wrapped her arm around her mast for balance and pulled herself up.

“Hey! Deepseeker!” she yelled out from the top of her lungs, waving her hand in the air. “Where are you headed? You headed to the Riprunners?”

[Crypt]

"Truly a wondrous sight to behold, friend Kirvan. O! The smells! The sights! And the Sea!" The sea air was perfect for bolstering a weak constitution - not to mention pleasantly bracing. Svefra were scattered everywhere, each doing his own tasks and talking cheerily with their neighbours, laughing loudly as if they were without a care in their lives. Vessels, strange and ordinary, littered the waters around them. Fish in baskets were thrown off-deck to Svefra waiting below. Water barrels were taken onboard. Exotic spices from some far-away place left their scent everywhere they had been. "Food would be excellent. A festival, you say! Gods, the Svefra certainly know how to have a bit of fun!" He quirked his head as a female Svefra greeted Kirvan and spoke about what seemed to be another clan.

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

As Crypt remarked at the wonder of the place, the Svefra smiled brightly, happy that his friend thought so highly of the oceans and the Flotilla. "Isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, sweeping his gaze across the anchorage of boats, packed so tightly that there was hardly any space between the vessels. People were talking excitedly, much more so than the previous times Kirvan had been visiting. Something was causing a ruckus, though it was likely just the approaching festival. "Yes, a festival," Kirvan answered, eager to explain about his culture's tradition. "The Ansayia happens the first of every year, the anniversary of the day the Valterrian occurred and we children of Laviku were given a new home. We give thanks to the god for letting us live here, and we often buy new good luck charms to celebrate and keep the festivities with us all year." Kirvan's brow furrowed in thought for a tick while he tried to think of a translation. "It means "festival of colors" in Common I think. Or something like that. Anyway, it's a big thing, particularly because my people believe that if you're happy on the new year's then you will have a good year, and likewise if you are unhappy then the rest of the year will reflect that." Then the Svefra head his name called, and as he turned around to scan the sea of faces one popped out at him, a familiar one popped out, waving at him from her mast. Recognizing her, Kirvan smiled and raised his hand to return the greeting. "Gabrielle!" he called over, deciding to use her first name rather than risk bringing up her pod. "Was just taking my friend Crypt here to one of the food stands deeper in, I can smell them from here!" Then a frown creased his forehead again as she brought up the Riprunners. He'd heard the name, but couldn't recall from where or for what reason, or who was of that family. "Why? Did something happen to them?" he called out to Gabrielle.

[Perplexity]

Riddled With Rewards Crypt Experience Skill XP Earned Rhetoric + 1 EXP Observation + 1 EXP Lores • Lore Earned • Fun is in the Air! Notes : PM me with questions regarding your grade. Ms. Gabrielle update your ledger to reflect seasonal expenses. PM me once that is done.