40th Day of Winter, 510 AV
The crew of the Shimmering Dawn were thoroughly unimpressed by the wondrous sight of Riverfall. Then again, most of them had been working the trade route from Ahnatep to Syliras for long and long again - it was the harshest route, the longest, and as such would generally only attract those sailors who could stand to be away from post for seasons at a time. Not to mention those who could keep a ship together even through some of the most dangerous shoals in Mizahar.
One of the crew, however, let the rope he was coiling fall slack as he glanced up at the cliffs and then stopped to stare longer. Not a sailor, this one, not by any natural inclination. But when a man had to get from one side of the world to the other, he tended to do what needed to be done to get there. By all rights he shouldn't have been allowed on the crew, so little did he know of sailing itself, but there was talk that the Captain had bet the passage in a game of cards, more because he knew he couldn't lose than because he was willing to let a stranger with little experience on his boat. But lose he did, and he was honorable enough to keep his word - even if it meant that his newest crewmember was stuck doing the worst sorts of duties.
A season and a half of emptying bilge buckets, setting rat traps, scrubbing floors, and any other menial, skill-less job they could find had left Murdoch Kin'rath about as dead inside as any slave's galley would have. He went through the motions every day, and every day he retreated a little further back into himself, until the crew whispered quietly to themselves that it might as well have been a golem hauling ropes around for them.
His hands and face were burned brown from the constant beating of the sun, and his skin was wind-chapped from exposure to the elements. He was still a handsome man, but more rugged now than he'd been when he simply dandied around the streets and gambling halls of Syliras. He sported a shaggy beard that was more protection against the chill bite of the wind than any attempt at hygiene or grooming, and his hair fell to his shoulders in brown-and-sun-streaked waves.
He watched as the ship pulled into the docks, staring at the shore like a thirsty man stares at a mirage in the desert. Riverfall - he'd heard it mentioned many times in Syliras. They weren't that far. He was almost home. He could stay on the ship another half-season, maybe a little longer, and look upon the shining walls of the human city again.
"Petch that," he mumbled to himself, kicking the rope aside and sprinting for the gangplank. The other crew members startled a little to see him so suddenly animated - and for the first time since they'd pulled anchor, he grinned.
"Thanks for the ride, kids," he yelled, hauling ass down to the docks and leaving the whole lot of them behind. It wasn't as if he had any belongings other than the clothes on his back, the weapons in his pockets, and the gold he still carried from Sunberth.
Within a few minutes, he disappeared into the crowd. When he was finally confronted by an Akalak guard, he stopped full-tilt and stared up at him. "Damn. Big fellow, ain't you? Look, I need an inn. Preferably something with a whole shyke-ton of booze in it." The Akalak grinned, and gave him directions to the Kulkukan, and Doc promptly took off in that direction.
The crew of the Shimmering Dawn were thoroughly unimpressed by the wondrous sight of Riverfall. Then again, most of them had been working the trade route from Ahnatep to Syliras for long and long again - it was the harshest route, the longest, and as such would generally only attract those sailors who could stand to be away from post for seasons at a time. Not to mention those who could keep a ship together even through some of the most dangerous shoals in Mizahar.
One of the crew, however, let the rope he was coiling fall slack as he glanced up at the cliffs and then stopped to stare longer. Not a sailor, this one, not by any natural inclination. But when a man had to get from one side of the world to the other, he tended to do what needed to be done to get there. By all rights he shouldn't have been allowed on the crew, so little did he know of sailing itself, but there was talk that the Captain had bet the passage in a game of cards, more because he knew he couldn't lose than because he was willing to let a stranger with little experience on his boat. But lose he did, and he was honorable enough to keep his word - even if it meant that his newest crewmember was stuck doing the worst sorts of duties.
A season and a half of emptying bilge buckets, setting rat traps, scrubbing floors, and any other menial, skill-less job they could find had left Murdoch Kin'rath about as dead inside as any slave's galley would have. He went through the motions every day, and every day he retreated a little further back into himself, until the crew whispered quietly to themselves that it might as well have been a golem hauling ropes around for them.
His hands and face were burned brown from the constant beating of the sun, and his skin was wind-chapped from exposure to the elements. He was still a handsome man, but more rugged now than he'd been when he simply dandied around the streets and gambling halls of Syliras. He sported a shaggy beard that was more protection against the chill bite of the wind than any attempt at hygiene or grooming, and his hair fell to his shoulders in brown-and-sun-streaked waves.
He watched as the ship pulled into the docks, staring at the shore like a thirsty man stares at a mirage in the desert. Riverfall - he'd heard it mentioned many times in Syliras. They weren't that far. He was almost home. He could stay on the ship another half-season, maybe a little longer, and look upon the shining walls of the human city again.
"Petch that," he mumbled to himself, kicking the rope aside and sprinting for the gangplank. The other crew members startled a little to see him so suddenly animated - and for the first time since they'd pulled anchor, he grinned.
"Thanks for the ride, kids," he yelled, hauling ass down to the docks and leaving the whole lot of them behind. It wasn't as if he had any belongings other than the clothes on his back, the weapons in his pockets, and the gold he still carried from Sunberth.
Within a few minutes, he disappeared into the crowd. When he was finally confronted by an Akalak guard, he stopped full-tilt and stared up at him. "Damn. Big fellow, ain't you? Look, I need an inn. Preferably something with a whole shyke-ton of booze in it." The Akalak grinned, and gave him directions to the Kulkukan, and Doc promptly took off in that direction.
