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[Avalyon Marem]

513 AV, Fall, 8th
Castle Commons, morning

Avalyon’s summer had been fruitless. He had spent almost forty days talking with fellow pirates and captains, trying to gather a crew, but who would want to join a pirate without a ship? He was becoming more frustrated with each passing day, until Father Manowar tipped him off trying to manage a crew. "Instead of that, you should join one. Give up your pride, boy.”

No, that would not do. I would become the laughing stock of the seas… It was unusual for a seasoned captain to become a sailor again, and certainly not the Sea Bastard. He gave the orders and it had been years since he had obeyed another person.

Suddenly, a woman’s stretching arms snapped his attention from his inner thoughts. She was a long-legged, pale wench, with a plain face and firm breasts. She could not be over twenty and had only his beds coverlets on her. Rising slowly and groggy from the bed, she glanced sideways and realized he was staring at her. ”Already awake, love? I thought you enjoyed sleeping cuddled with me…” The whore giggled lustily and dressed a roughspun tunic. Avalyon was already fully dressed, sitting in a nearby chair with a piece of bread on his hand, which he offered to the girl. “I’m an early riser. Now, now, I think I owe you 2 silver mizas, right?” He took the coins from his pockets and put one in her hand, holding the other, smiling wickedly at her. “But first, a goodbye kiss, unless you want to wound my heart...”

Half an hour later, Avalyon went down the stairs and into the colder streets. With summer gone, the weather was becoming colder and more bearable. However, Avalyon’s hopes of returning to his piracy activities were becoming likewise colder. He would have to find a job or maybe venture into the underworld, since his mizas would run out within time.

Whatever he chose, he wanted to arm himself. His cutlass was sharpened, but would it be enough for Sunberth? The city was unforgiving. Perhaps he could try using two swords at a time. The idea amused him, now that he thought about it. Avalyon was a skilled swordsman who would hardly become impressed with another person's skills, until an akalak who dual wielded scimitars during a mummer’s play in the docks caught his attention, on the last week of summer. True, the yellow man was not fighting for real, but his skills still impressed Avalyon.

The fallen pirate strolled through Baroque Bay, crossed the Seaside Market until he reached Castle Commons, the centre of Sunberth. He was getting used with the city’s disorderly layout and knew where to find the Knight’s Armory, by the directions Father Manowar had given him the day before. ”You’ll want the Knight’s Armory”, said Manowar, “It’s more expensive than the Seaside Market, but you’ll get a better deal, boy. The Market is full of junk which may get you killed.”.

As he approached the Knight's Armory, Avalyon realized that the building was almost as big as the Drunken Fish, with few windows. Four large chimneys cornered it and Avalyon deduced that there were no more than four hearths within. Not as small as I thought… Avalyon expected a smaller place, tended by no more than one blacksmith. Instead, he found four smiths running about, shouting orders to their apprentices and dealing with potential customers. It took no more than a minute for one to realize the pirate at the doorsteps. "Come in, come in! You seem like a warrior, who knows a knight!", his voice made a high pitch as he said knight in a mocking tone, "May I help you with a fine longsword? Or perhaps a shield?"

A bloody knight. How flattering. The fallen pirate could only smile to that absurd and mocking notion. He never heard tales of knights wearing eyepatches or smelling of sea. The Sea Bastard has no knightly honors, even though he abides to his particular moral code. Don’t enslave children. Don’t turn against your employers. Don’t back out of a deal. After all, one had to keep a good reputation to be hired…

The smith who talked to him was a balding trunk of a man, with broad shoulders and the strong arms every other smith on the world had. He grew graying whiskers and was sweating. Avalyon nodded towards him. “See this cutlass?”, he said, “Do you have a similar sword on your stocks? I want a friend for her, or a lover.” The man briefly looked at the sword, examining it. ”May I?”, he said, gesturing towards it. The pirate unsheathed the cutlass and gave it to the smith.

The balding man shouted for an apprentice and sent the young man to fetch him a cutlass. It took the boy quarter an hour to return with a polished steel sword, slightly curved at its end. It’s pommel was simply decorated, with some runes engraved on it, certainly naming its previous owner and the hilt was basket-shaped guard. Avalyon took his own cutlass from the smith and held both, one in each hand. They were light, small swords as they were, and could be easily wielded. However, it felt quite awkward using his left hand, which moved with a delay and without the grace of his right hand sword. ”You’ll get the grip with practice. It may take some time, but you may soon find yourself mastering both hands! Now, for the price, it is not really expensive. You may have it for 14 gold mizas”.

“How much? Did I hear 14? It is too much, don’t you think? I wonder, how much does a similar sword cost? Maybe 11, 12 gold mizas? I won’t have it for more than 12 gold mizas.”, said Avalyon as he moved to deliver the sword to the smith, who clapped his hand and said, ”Forgive me, my good man. I forgot that our standard price for swords as small as this are 12 gold mizas. There are so many prices, so many wares, one loses himself amongst numbers. You may have it for 12 gold mizas, done!”

LedgerNight with prostitute - 2 sm
1 Cutlass -12 gm

[Avalyon Marem]

Avalyon sheated both swords on their leather scabbards, tugged at his belt and left the Knight’s Armory feeling satisfied with himself. His hand slid to the back of his head and he scratched it. His scalp was itchy and he realized he hadn’t bathed for three days. I should go to the sea, it’s been weeks since I last felt the waves caressing me. He wasn’t used to being so far away from the sea and that made him feel landsick. Before Laviku’s Bastard sunk, he wouldn’t stay for more than a week in a city, before heading to the open ocean. It was there, with the wind messing his hair, the gulls shitting on his ship’s hull, the thrill of an approaching vessel… it was there that he felt truly alive. And where he had made his life.

Now he was walking in a strange city, with strangers everywhere. There was a stranger offering wares in a nearby stall, trying to catch his attention. Another stranger kissed a stranger in the corner of an alley, while three strangers ran past him chasing after another stranger, who carried a small bag. The buildings were torn, rugged and old, painted by time and poverty in a yellowish color. One out of four had newer or painted facades, with balconies overlooking the streets, but they were rare and in a sea of gray and yellow dust, an oasis of colors. The larger street in Castle Commons crossed it entirely, stretching from the Seaside Market to the outer limits of civilization. It was full of stalls, confusing screams, offers and strangers. Their faces seemed blurred figures to Avalyon, as they vanished through doors and the mazelike alleys. It was a wonder that an anarchist city like Sunberth could thrive. However, he was starting to feel suffocated with so many strangers around him and the loss of air forced him to the nearest uncrowded place he could find.

Suddenly, the fallen pirate realized he had taken a wrong turn and found himself in an unknown passageway. All the torn yellowish houses had their windows shut down and doors barred. Some seemed abandoned and Avalyon had a bad feeling about it. He had lost himself in the sea of strangers, faces he had never met, after panicking. He had never felt this way before and could not explain that. Rubbing his forehead with his right hand, he tried to concentrate.

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Steps.

[Avalyon Marem]

The footsteps made him turn his attention to the approaching stranger. Better, there were two. Great. Two idiots to make my day perfect. He watched them warily and put his hands in the pockets of his coat, ready to take them out and wield his cutlasses if the men tried anything.

”Looks like someone lost his way, Lue”, said the bigger man, “Or he is too brave or too stupid to come into the Alley. No one comes to the Stumble Alley, you know. Think we can escort him to safety for a nice bag of golds, dontcha agree, eh Lue?”. He was an ordinary man, bulky and hairy, slow and clumsy, but he had a cleaver on his hand. A shiny, big and sharp cleaver, by the looks of it. The other man was smaller and seemed quicker as well, despite his rickety figure. His cheekbones were hollow from hunger, it seemed. And his eyes looked wolfish, analyzing a potential prey. He produced a rusted mace from his waist. "Don’t be stupid. We kill him, here, now. We’re two and he’s one. Count the numbers, you stupid oaf.”

Avalyon reached for his scabbards and produced his own shortswords. His blood was almost boiling with anxiety and his inner beast was stirring for adrenaline, roaring for death. He gazed at them, his pupils dilating. His usual calm, cynical demeanor gave way to a harsh, brutal look. His voice was raspy and fast, his heart pounding fast and hard. ”If I were you, well, I’d leave even my clothes and run now!”, the fallen pirate answered. ”Otherwise, my little ‘lasses have been thirsty, you know? I think we could share a drink with them.” He stretched one leg and positioned it forward, moving his arms slowly as he adjusted his grip on his left hand, which still felt awkward. He was certainly not used to the weight and the movements seemed out of order. However, a blade could still cut and its pointy end could thrust through skin. Meanwhile, he observed his surroundings, trying to find something he could make use of. There was a broken table to his left, with a broken jug on a open window of an abandoned house. To his right, there were ten small barrels, organized in two colums above a terrain slope.

Both thugs exchanged a fast look and nodded. Then they started running towards Avalyon, mace and cleaver raised above their heads. So we shall dance! None of the dancers wore mail or any protection apart from their own clothes. Avalyon waited for them and soon the smaller one arrived, descending his old mace on the pirate’s head, while the bigger one was still behind. The Sea Bastard raised his best hand to catch the mace on the air with a cutlass, while he tried to slash the man’s belly with his left hand. However, his clumsy attempt only tickled his foe. The man tried to hit him again, which was easily parred by Avalyon as he crossed both swords on top of his head. By then the oaf had joined their dance and both men tried to encircle the pirate. If they get me.. I can’t let it! His reasoning was fast. If they encircled him, he would have his back exposed and would die. He had to act now.

Before the slowest could hamper him, the Sea Bastard ran to his right and kicked the barrels. Fortunately, they were half empty and their vertical columns collapsed towards his chasers. The “oaf” lost his balance and fell to the ground, while Lue managed to swiftly dodge from them. As kick as a cat, Avalyon jumped on the oaf, thrusting his left hand cutlass on his belly, before he removed it. The oaf made a ghastly face as he put his hand on his wound and tried to reach for his cleaver. Before he could grab it, One-Eyed Avalyon kicked it away. Then, he kicked his face hard on the nose, breaking it with a crack which was soon followed by a scream.

But the scream was Avalyon’s. He glanced sideways and realized Lue had hit his right forearm with his mace. It seemed he had reached for Avalyon’s head, but lost the momentum when the Sea Bastard turned to kick the oaf’s nose. Luckily, it had not been strong enough to break his bone, but the pain was almost unbearable and should he live, it would leave a horrible bruise.

He lost his grip on his right hand cutlass. Fuck. He walked backwards, with only one sword, his left (and worst) arm holding it, that same hand covering the skin where he had been hit as a futile way to mitigate the pain. Meanwhile, Lue advanced, swinging his mace. Avalyon would have made him bloody if they were alone, but there had been two against one. They resumed their dance, Lue trying for the head and the fallen pirate dodging or parrying each attack. Everything would be so much easier if I wielded a spear…

Lue was becoming tired. He was not used to duels, it seemed. He was a rickety little thing and as Avalyon expected, he opened his defense, exposing his head. The pirate furiously descended his sword, as fast as he could with his left arm, and caught his foe’s ear, ripping it from his head. The man dropped to his knees almost immediately. ”I told you to run, didn’t I?”, said the one-eyed pirate, as he kicked Lue in the ribs. Meanwhile, he could still hear the oaf agonizing from his wound.

”But oh, you had to be bold. You had to come and try to fight me, you little fucker. I used to sail a ship, you know? I was, or better, I am a pirate. You’re probably some sweeper gone hungry, but I have no pity for you.”, with that he started kicking the man’s head until he could be certain of his death. Avalyon couldn’t control his emotions in dangerous situations. He just embraced his inner beast and it had always been like that. It had been exactly like that when he lost his left eye and earned an horrendous scar on his face.

“Grro…aaargh…”, groaned the bigger man who would not die. Avalyon stopped his vicious attack against dead Lue’s body and was starting to recover from his fit of rage by the time he walked towards the oaf. He kneeled and grabbed his fallen sword from the ground and then stood above the man, shadowing him with death’s cloak. He figured he should let him agonize to death. Yet.. the man’s horrified eyes rolled towards him, pleading. ”I’ll give you the gift of mercy. The gods know why, because I’m not a forgiving man.”, said the pirate as he poised his left hand sword to strike at the man’s jugulars. A swift stroke ended his life and somehow Avalyon felt relieved, as the pain in his injured right arm became almost bearable.

[Avalyon Marem]

Avalyon could not truly understand from where those fits of rage came. He was usually as calm as sea breeze, able to control all of his movements with the grace of an actor. But whenever he felt himself under pressure or threatened, the beast woke. His bloodlust had earned him a blind eye, a scar and a broken tooth in the past. Now, he could proudly wear a bruise in his skin, just another one. He brought his coat’s sleeve up to check it and wasn’t happy. The mace had left a mark and by the looks of it, he wondered if the bone had been shattered. His hands balled into fists, but he could sense no crack or abnormal pain from what he was already feeling. It was plain lucky the mace had missed his head.


I need to control myself… If I had control of the situation, I’d have made short work of them so easily. They weren’t even proper outlaws, armed with an old, decaying mace and a cleaver…, he thought, as he shook his head, trying to clarify his thoughts. To begin with, how had he come to that “Stumble Alley”? Avalyon didn’t remember anything since he felt the suffocating panic. It was a weird sensation, as if his head was spiraling out of control and all those strangers’s faces became one blurred painting amongst a background of distorted grey and yellowish old houses. One-eyed had never felt that way before… the building anxiety, the need for a secluded, isolated place. It seemed as if he was praddling a small boat in the Suvan Sea, only to be dragged into the eye of a storm, only to be plummeted into the deep of the sea.

The fallen pirate’s pounding heart was calming down and he sheated his ‘lasses into their leather scabbards. Inclining his back against the decrepit wall, he looked upon his foes’s bodies and then turned away in disgust. Breathing deeply, he left their silent company and went back from where he came, looking for that main avenue where he had his sudden panic. By instinct, he turned right and then left into some streets. There were some children playing with a black street dog under the watchful eyes of an elder woman on the parapet of a window. Avalyon gestured towards them, ”Oye! Where is the centre…”, but before he could ask them where was the centre of Castle Commons, they rushed into the house, while the woman shut her windows.”Goddamit! I’m no outlaw, only…, he tried to say, but there was no sense in arguing. He looked like a robber. And he should know already, sunberthans are quite suspicious, or at least they ought to be. Hell, I was a pirate. That kinda qualifies me for an outlaw… I must be looking stupid standing here, in the middle of this damned place.

Realizing that he was almost lost, surrounded by possible hostiles and in an unknown environment, Avalyon grabbed his injured forearm with his left hand and darted through a random corridor.

”Here! Here, fresh apples with me!”, called a woman’s voice from the other side of the alley. He rushed towards the place and walked backwards for an instant, as the rising sun blinded his eye for a while. Rising his hand to cover his brow, he came forward into that busy and crowded street. The stalls were still there, as well as the strangers. Breathing deeply, Avalyon rubbed his forehead and resumed his flaneaur.

I need something to put on my injury, otherwise it will grow worse…, he thought. Avalyon knew he should visit a doctor, but he couldn’t trust them with their exotic recipes and solutions and potions. And besides they are just too expensive for their mummer’s farce of healing. He should try to find something to ease the pain.

The stranger faces were giving way to faces he had not met yet, or probably would never meet. There were a few thousands in this city, he had heard Father Manowar boast, but he couldn’t estimate the exact number… a hell lotta of people. And thinking about it, there was something of beautiful in the city, despite its decadence, violence and insecurity. The old streets full of bricks, the old buildings which seemed come from a child’s books, the Market and its stalls, Baroque Bay at the sunset… it was weird to think of such confusion and decadence , but the city had it’s charm. Which Stumble Alley certainly lacked, especially after that assault.

A big stall, flanked by two sellswords, caught his attention with its flasks and herbs. A fine dressed man tended to it and once he realized Avalyon was looking at it, gestured for him to come. He was a bit older than Avalyon, with a full brown beard which was going white. He had a bulbous nose and amiable eyes. ”Come here, my good brother. Are you interested in some walnuts? We have plenty, as well as tobacco and coffee. Coconut or other exotics, from far away cities and lands? Or medicine?” , said the man, pointing to different commodities

”Tobacco. Tobacco would be good… and…”, Avalyon mistrusted the man. He would not show him his injury, but it was plain in the pirate’s face that something was not well. He pointed towards the man, in an inquisitive way. ”What do you have for bruises? I mean, something fast and easy… enough to hamper the pain and its worsening.”

Sensing an opportunity, the man immediately took a flask and showed it to Avallyon. ”There is nothing better for bruises than Rugberry Tea! It’s made from dried-up berries and will speed up your recovery. You have no need to worry about its quality. I guarantee it. It’s just 2 gold mizas for you and don’t drink everything in a hurry! You should drink two doses per day, otherwise the effect will be slower, understand?”, he replied, smiling. ”However, you may also find that it’s not enough. You should try Pulp, it works wonders. Burn it, inhale and experience what life has to offer… but that will come more expensive, it’s harder to come by. Say, 1 gold miza the pound?”

The fallen pirate considered the offer. Tobacco, Rugberry Tea and Pulp. The man seemed honest and his immediate reaction indicating the tea for bruises earned Avalyon’s trust. Either he’s honest or he’s a goddamit good merchant. ”I will want a pound of tobacco, a pipe for it, a pound of this… Pulp and, finally, three flasks of this… what’s it? Ragberry? Rugberry Tea! Yes, that. How much? Does it really work?” One-eyed knew it would be expensive, so he wanted to be certain of it… If it doesn’t work, he’ll just lie. He hardly paid any attention to the flanking guards, who just looked uninterested, but he should – because if the merchant was lying, he’d come back after him.

The trader made his sums. ”Certainly it works! I want the best for my clients, otherwise they won’t return, eh? It’ll be… 2 gold mizas for each flask, totaling 6 golds, plus 5 silver mizas and the Pulp at 1 gold miza the pound… am I forgetting anything? Hmmprf… ah, yes, the pipe for 5 gold mizas. It’ll be 12 gold and 5 silver mizas.”, said the man, extending his hand.

receipt3 flasks of Rugberry Tea,- 6 gold mizas
1 smoking pipe, - 5 gold mizas
1 pound of tobacco, - 5 silver mizas
1 pound of Pulp, - 1 gold miza
Total = - 12 gold and 5 silver mizas