The eleventh bell of the day sounded, signaling what should have been the half way point of a productive work day. But this town was Riverfall, the skilled Akalak woke to practice, worked in discipline, and retired to their beds after hours of refining their skills. The work day was far from over.However it was turning out to be a wonderfully sun drenched afternoon as well, with nary a looming cloud in sight. A cool ocean breeze, along with the faint misting of the great fall kept the town from baking in the summer’s heat. Many of Riverfall’s inhabitants found a way to take their work outside, and into the warm glow of Syna. Several merchant vessels were already unloading there imported goods onto the docks, creating a virtual swarm of activity. It wasn’t until half a bell later that Basil, captain of one of the few foreign manned ships, stumped his way up to the second tier. Basil was a grimy old sea dog, hell bent on wearing his rain parka in all occasions. A perpetually red bulbous nose protruded from his great beard, where slight yellow caking of grime ringed the tips of his whiskers. Short in height but wide in girth, Basil teetered dangerously every time he swung his left pegged leg forward. One of the Akalak who kept an eye on all wandering seafarers politely stopped the rotund captain. “Pleasant morning sir, can I help you?” The neatly braided hair gave the Akalak a crisp, respectable look but it was clear his pleasantries were only such as his job required. “Yes, you bloody well can. My last map copy, and my sea charts are ruined thanks to your foggy port, they’ve bled all over themselves. I need to have them replaced or I won’t be leaving.” Basil wasn’t known for pleasantries, or keeping a respectful tone in conversation. The intimidating Akalak kept a stony eye on the human until Basil began to fidget under scrutiny, finally uttering guttural sounds that could best be described as an attempted apology. This mumbling of words, far from satisfactory, was sufficient enough to entice the native man into a reply. “Your maps could be replaced at the ship travel agency, or perhaps a copy could be found in the library. Both locations would aid you for as little as three mizas, to be sure.” “Three?!” Basil had lost his manners again. “Three whole gold pieces? I bet they would help for that much, anybody would. Three mizas…go on.” “You are the owner of the red sloop I believe, you could spare that much.” Basil cast a terrible scowl at the Akalak and grumbled that he would be going to the library. “Three gold,” the captain’s gripping continued up towards his destination, “Three! A one legged ape could scribe maps for less.” Beautiful day or not, Basil seemed determined to carry around his own personal rain cloud for the duration of his trip. |