Wreckage: Waves of Fate (PM to Join)

by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 3rd, 2011, 7:12 pm

Season of Winter, Day 1, 511 AV

Daybreak
Outskirts of Zeltiva

A fiercely vindictive storm had finally broken free, after a night that had surely shaken those caught out of shelter. Moisture dripping from every surface, working its way back to the earth, what was left in its wake was still pressing down hard on those who sort to escape their fate. Two bodies lay motionless scattered amongst the remains of something, with too little left to identify what it was at a passing glance. Sun pushed back the clouds bit by bit as time passed, warmth waking one of those laying prone on the beach. Amongst this mess an eye opened slowly, daring to view the scene first hand. It saw a beach that was littered with debris, the last remnants of the promises hull, a ship that surely hadn’t survived.

Although the sun on his face promised a very different day than what he had faced last night, still the thunder echoed in the distance, announcing what was surely nature’s way of giving him a send off, that or the throbbing head letting him know he was still alive, but far from where he should be. Blinking twice, Kvar rubbed a palm across his face, and took some of the sand out of his eyes. Across a broken barrel he lay slumped, now sliding off its side to the floor, and crawling for some familiarity. As if the lack of the water beneath him wasn’t disturbing enough to a water born traveller, further to that he had no idea where he had arisen.

Gradually standing one foot in front of the other, edging the weight up slowly, the bedraggled Svefra turned to his side and looked at the corpse of a familiar face. At least he was rising, others had not been so lucky. Checking the body for a pulse, his eyes soon departed from the lost kin, there was nothing left there.

“Rest easy brother.” He breathed in, inhaling the sea air, if he couldn’t have the water, he’d have the smell of it. Rolling his sore neck around, he rubbed a heavy hand across the back of it; with no belongings at his side except one immovable sheathed weapon, he gave a passing glance for other survivors but none reared their head.

What a mess. So the witch was right after all.

A sparkle caught his eye from the floor beneath him, bending down Kvar picked up a small crystal container, walking to the water to fill it from the ocean. Doing so eagerly, amongst the chaos it was seemingly the first and most prominent thought on his mind. He waded through the familiar sensation of what home to him. As the sea mother’s embrace covered his boots, a smile cracked upon his face, no matter how bad things were, that familiar bond was never lost.

Moving his thick black hair out of the way, dripping wet every inch of him was, he clipped the crystal vial to a small chord of ship’s rope. With everything that had seemingly happened to the man, that keepsake being put around his neck was oddly the center of his world, acted upon before all other considerations.

“We take what we need.”

Rooting through the rubble he began salvaging what was left, deep blue eyes, pools of attentions reflecting the ocean's immovable stare, studied the wreckage. The dead were not going anywhere, there would be time for them when Kvar had what he needed.

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by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 5th, 2011, 12:15 pm

Dirt, sand, and wood thrown everywhere, the lone survivor on the beach spent a good hour digging, hunting for, or tossing wreckage out of his way. Seeking out clues of what might have been spared in the immediate area, Kvar had come across a battle axe, some basic chainmail strewn with weeds from the sea, as well as some damaged supplies. Pulling open box after box, most of the food was simply no good, and many of the more fragile items were shattered beyond repair. In all fairness he found a lot more than he was expecting, some medical supplies overturned under a rock, and critically some builder's tools floating just off the shore. The tools had belonged to an old friend of his by the name of Svaren, always fixing up the ships; well Svaren's memory wouldn’t be forgotten, Kvar would see to it in his future works.

Catching sight of a small trail and some broken wood, the Svefra began investigating any traces of crates that had washed up a distance from him, slowly he followed the all too obvious trail. Leaping eagerly over a mound of rocks he came across something he couldn’t ignore, and his eyes went wide...

A rowboat! It was damaged, and had a few scrapes but looked seaworthy!

Fate was smiling, and the curse was not without a sense of irony, or perhaps a trickster's parting gift. He had the ability to get back on the water, but never go far from where he found himself stranded. Kvar smirked, it almost seemed like someone’s sick little joke, pushing mortals around on some grand chessboard to an elaborate plan. Well to the depths with that idea, he was taking what he could get.

Digging his feet firmly into the sand, and bracing the shoulders, he heaved the rowboat to right it. The twenty three year old was not a small man but given the boat's weight, it was no small thing to try and move, Svefra didn't make cheap, light boats after all. With a huge exertion he righted the object, and sunk to his knees at its side, resting his elbows and chin atop the edge of the craft.

"No problem," he blew some hair out of his face and raised himself up.

"Lets get you back home."

Pushing the boat out across the sand was equally difficult, but something he was more used to. Putting all his weight into the legs, and his shoulder against the hull, he pushed it forward for all he was worth. After thirty steps that seemed like three hundred for the beleaguered youth, he felt the comforting feel of the ocean’s edge at his feet. Immediately tying a mooring line to a rock, the edge of the boat was placed in the sea. Taking his time to secure the line, this wasn’t rushed in the slightest; the knot was a double seaman's twist, unbreakable unless you knew what you were doing. Having the boat ready also meant Kvar could get out of here in a hurry, something that should be in the back of your mind anytime you touched down on land.

Looking out across the ocean, a roguish grin was on his face. Already he felt like he was making progress, small as it was, he was a step closer to the sea again, his domain, and that was worth a thousand gold coins. Giving a passing glance up at the weather, it seemed clear but he was far from in the clear, doubting that people would avoid this crash site for too long, it could attract anyone with the promise of loot.

So began an urgency to load up the small boat with what he had salvaged from his former life, and piecing together the holes in this new land dweller's existence.

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by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 6th, 2011, 9:58 pm

The faint sound of hooves caught Kvar’s ear, a ways off yet, but the sound was definitely there, probably men searching the area for survivors. Having come across just about everything there was to find in the immediate area, he had the choice now of bolting as his gut was telling him to, or greeting just whoever was headed his way. He chose the latter option, and decided to get right out of there, but before he left there was one last thing to do.

Walking over to the dead body, the last driftweaver he was likely to see for awhile, if at all. Kvar picked up the man, putting him on his shoulder, and placed him on a larger patch of the promise's hull that had survived. Dusting off some seaweed from the name that was stamped on the side, the promise, better the name be burned with those that went down with it. They’d all taken an oath not to part from that ship, it was fitting that Taran would keep that oath, and its secret, even in death.

“This isn’t any way to go out you know, found by some land dwellers and left to rot in the ground, or worse.” Tidying up his brother’s face, the body was a shell without its spirit, but it needed one last blazing goodbye all the same. He’d of got the same if their fates were reversed.

“Wherever you are right now, you just have a drink for me, maybe a dance, and who knows after a couple of days in this place I might be joining you, so save me a seat somewhere you hear.”

There wasn’t overwhelming sorrow in the Svefra’s eyes, only resolute understanding, and it was just a hint that perhaps this wasn’t the first body he was giving a send off to in recent memory. Piling up plenty of the drier wood Kvar started to create a pyre, and slowly just as it seemed the flimsy vessel wouldn’t take any more wood or weighting stone, he started to push the makeshift raft out into the tide. Wading out with the craft, and taking along a couple of promising looking beach stones, it was a short swim before he was satisfied the currents had hold of the craft.

Striking the stones together as he had been taught, and trying to light the wood, it began to prove more difficult than Kvar remembered. Still the sound of approaching hooves got closer but he wasn’t about to leave Taran without his sea burial, if anything they made him refocus his efforts, gritting his teeth to have some success.

Holding firm to a stoic look, a look that held back any other sense of loss for now; Taran would have given him a clip around the ear for the mist that was forming in his eyes, but the ocean was full of mist, and the eyes of a Svefra were its reflection, none more so than right now.

Finally just as it seemed the wood would never light, a spark caught it, and it began to burn. The ocean’s breeze that had brought him here last night in such fury, was now more mercifully fuelling the flame’s spread across the raft. Kvar silently bowed his head, and pushed the raft fully into the current, uttering a small prayer underneath his breath. You took him but you gave him life too, whatever our sins or trespass, grant him some kind of peace as he comes home. Treading water for just a few moments more before swimming back the short distance to shore, he knew the gods didn't owe him any favours, maybe though the dead got one more shot.

Shouts in the distance! There was no time now, the sound of horses was almost upon him. If that was bandits coming to steal, or perhaps even a disgruntled guard, explaining this might cost him his life, and he didn't trust the land dwellers to be fair in their dealings with him one bit. Darting to where he had the ship moored, Kvar started untying his escape route, whatever or whoever was coming, he had seconds if that.

by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 8th, 2011, 2:55 pm

Although most of the wood had been used for the fire, what little usable scraps that were left of the promise, on the surrounding beach, were hauled aboard. While holding onto the mooring line, Kvar cast the craft back off into the ocean. Jumping in, and picking up the secured oars, the Svefra was angry that his existence had been reduced to a rowboat, but needs must, and he was off the ground again mercifully.

He’d get it all back and in style! Tapping his first across his chest and raising a hand high into the air to give his brother a final salute, it would have been more fitting with a tankard of ale, but the thought was there.

Settling in to giving a good pull of the oars, it was taxing on the upper arms to row, so he braced his legs, and tried to use his whole body at once to make some time up, using the legs was much better form anyway. Some of the best bodybuilding exercise could be found in doing the rowing action, and it was going to give him a good work out just getting about day to day.

The activity on the beach intensified, but by that time, he was away and clear, rowing for all he was worth for Zeltiva’s docks, and to put in for some safe harbour. Maybe someone spotted him, maybe not, but he didn’t look back or give them any clues as to him or his origin. Increasingly using his legs to avoid strain to the back, the craft made some good headway and it wasn’t more than an hour until his tiny rowboat, which had been keeping close to shore to avoid any rough waters, was putting into port alongside much bigger craft.

One or two perplexed glances were cast his way, and someone made a crass comment or two. “Couldn’t you find a smaller boat, you're taking all the room!” A stranger called with a grin, Kvar shouted back that some people needed to over compensate, and others did just fine with what they had. The other man shrugged and chuckled, getting back to his own work.

Tying the small craft up at the docks, again secure but this time with a triple, whalekin threader knot, nigh impregnable from wind and weather, he paid an entry fee for mooring, and soon put on a few choice items, making his way into Zeltiva proper. Kvar's first port of call was a good boat builder, one of the chosen few that made the sea homes of his people, someone with genuine skill.

Spying a couple of street urchins by the docks, and keeping a good eye on his purse, he flicked a silver coin into one of their palms. "I don't need a good boat builder, I need the best, I need someone that puts everyone else to shame, not the biggest, the best. Where can I find them?" The Svefra was turning on the charm a bit, the urchin might know nothing at all but usually at the docks you could find what you were looking for. Kvar wasn't skilled at persuasion, but the coin hopefully swung things in his favour.

Fee Cost :

by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 10th, 2011, 2:42 pm

“Magistrate Hoisten, he’s got the biggest place. Up on the hill, huge boats, massive they are, take five thousand people at least!” The boy said confidently, exaggerating to be as big as his imagination was.

“What about old man Deller? Nobody speaks about him but my pa said he used to be some big pirate, had the longest beard ever!” A younger one of the group replied excitedly.

“Your pa is full of fish ale, Deller scares me. Grumpy old son of a...” The first boy retorted, biting at the coin in his hand to make sure it was genuine.

There it was from the mouth of babes. Both sides of the coin, illegal and legal, Kvar knew which one he fell on well enough. “Where can I find Deller?”

One of the lads piped up an offer, seeing his chance “I’ll tell you for two more silver coins!”

Kvar shook his head, a warm expression forming for the gall on display. This lad would go far for a land dweller. “It’ll be one more silver coin, and you’ll tell me where I can find a warm, safe bed for the night as well.” He wasn’t much of a negotiator, but the offer of more money, seemed to be enough to swing this enterprising new speaker his way.

After double checking his purse, getting directions and bidding goodbye to the boys, they scampered off to spend their hard earned coin. First Kvar would see to the boat, then the ale, and if the gods were not their usual bitter selves, the company of a lady, or two.

Walking for a good thirty minutes more, all this walking, this place was a maze of streets. He was keeping very careful attention on anything he was carrying to avoid pickpockets, Svefra didn't believe in ownership, but they did believe in holding on to what they were carrying.

Following the directions as a navigator might, he came across the place in a quiet corner of the city, it had a dusty old sign half hanging above it, and a run down appearance. The Svefra looked left and right to make sure this was the place, it followed the directions he had been given at least.

"Anyone there?" Kvar called out, stepping in, he kept his eyes carefully investigating the surroundings, in the case this was some kind of set up.

To his surprise, inside it looked beautiful! Nothing was where it belonged, everything seemed collected from some far off corner of the earth, sure it was mucky and untidy, but it reeked of adventures past!

"What," came the blunt response from somewhere unseen.

"I'm looking for a shipwright, I heard..."

There was no answer at all.

"That this was the place." Kvar said, starting to get a bit puzzled about the whole scene.

After a moment of silence, there was a rattling from a nearby cupboard, a door opened, and out stepped...

by **Kvar Driftweaver** on December 12th, 2011, 2:34 pm

...a human about a foot smaller than Kvar. Appearing from out behind the cupboard door, dusting off his clothes. He peered this way and that to make sure they were alone, the most noticeable thing about him was a beard that stretched to his knees, and a crook to his back as he walked. A very suspicious look was upon his face, as he considered the Svefra in his shop. It didn’t look much like a shop, just like he didn’t look much like a shopkeeper. He had more oddities about himself than any of the most colourful Svefra, piercings, tattoos, there was no clothing that look well kept, but some of it looked extremely exotic.

“We’re closed,” the old man muttered, closing the cupboard behind him and starting to dust off the shelves, in some half hearted attempt to clean up.

“I don’t want to buy, I want to build. I am after work.” Kvar remarked off hand, studying several small trinkets, picking a couple up, some intriguing looking map for starters. He was about to palm one away for later.

“Hands where I can see them Svefra.” Deller cursed under his breath, walking over and starting to put things back that were moved. he knew most Svefra’s reputation well enough. Kvar grinned and held his hands up, walking to the center of the shop.

“I can sail, I can swim, I’ve a sharp eye for customers, valuables, profits. My life is the sea, I’d be a natural.” He was throwing everything he could think of into the pot, in an attempt to sell himself, while hiding of course his biggest quality as a reimancer, that was an ace he liked to keep very close to his chest.

Sniffing disinterestedly, Deller crossed his arms. “Do you know the first thing about shipwrighting, carpentry, sailmaking, anything?”

“See this is why we’d make a great team, I don’t ask questions. I’d get the wood, do the heavy lifting, all the work, and you’d take the lion’s share of the money. All I need is someone telling me how.” Kvar clapped his hands together, using them to gesture as he spoke, could he persuade the old sea dog to take on a new hand? This place needed some fresh blood, he could tell an opportunity when he saw it, an undiscovered gem in this city, just looking for a treasure hunter willing to take it.

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