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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:18:58 GMT -5
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:20:05 GMT -5
Introduction
There comes a time in every tortle's life, when he realizes that he has filled more scutes with writing than he ever thought possible to fill, and yet, in the same breath realizes that there are many, many more scutes left to cover before his story is through. While most tortles who live outside the beloved city of Kwa Rahl can rest in the fact that when they die, their shells will be stored for prosterity in our great library, I have no such hope. As a gifted one, I will continue to bear my shell until the end of the Retroverse, and possibly beyond. I have therefore decided to write my memoirs as such in the common tongue, for the edification of those willing to learn the little portion of history that I have observed. The desire for knowledge, one of the most overwhelming instincts of the tortle mind, seems so rare at times among the more land-bound races. It is my hope that by publishing this above the waves that the peoples of Wysoom and beyond might gain a little taste for knowledge, and learn from the struggles of the past.
~ Madrados
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:20:55 GMT -5
Shade of Dawn
I was on my way to the Flying Barnacle when I first laid eyes on her. There she was, sitting peacefully in the midst of the chaos of the harbor. Her movements were so graceful, her figure slender, yet seductively curved... I had been staring for what turned out to be only a couple of minutes before someone came up beside me and asked, "Like...my...ssship, eh?"
I turned around to find a broadly grinning tortle. He introduced himself as Franz Welzan're, a lesser member of the house of Welzan're, and briskly ushered me into the pub. As he led me to a cramped table between the catapult and the window, I began processing what had just happened: I had just found my new employer, or rather, he had found me. At the time, I had been working as a deckhand to help pay for my education at the mage guild. Franz had offered me a quartermaster position, and despite his reputation for inefficiency in the otherwise impeccable House of Welzan're, a pay raise and a chance to navigate and pilot his ship were enough for me.
I took my seat, and Welzan're began introducing the other member of the crew, despite the din of the pub. The occupants of the table themselves were too occupied in a game of dice and a stack of Zeke's famous square pizzas to notice our arrival. Welzan're pointed to a teenaged Dhampir and an apparently similarly aged Anakim at his side.
"That...isss...Ryath,...ssship'sss...sssurgeon,...and...his...betroved,...Tinge,...our...guardian...angel,...if...you...will."
Opposite from them at the table were two elven men.
"And...over...there...on...the...right,...that'sss...Lathern,...ssship'sss...cook."
The elf on the right looked up as he heard his name and gave Welzan're a look of pure poison.
"And...bessside...him,...Eillor,...massster...gunner,...with...whom...I...believe...you...are...already...acquainted....He...sssugesssted...you...when...I...mentioned...we'd...be...needing...a...pilot."
Ah, Eillor. A decent sailor, a good gunner, and an even better friend.
"My...captain...is...currently...out...inssspecting...the...boat....He'sss...a...treant,...doesssn't...have...a...name,...everyone...jussst...callsss...him...Village...Idiot." I blinked for a moment. It must have been clear what I was thinking, as Welzan're followed up, "Yeah,...long...ssstory,...that...one."
We continued on, discussing the ship, my pay, the various ports of call that he wanted us to visit, the cargos he wanted moved. He was rather excited about the ship. She was, it turned out, was of Rajian design, as I had suspected---a pet project of Abzelius, the Arcanus master ship builder. Instead of sporting the square sails of most Wysoomian ships, Welzan're's ship had three large lateen sails. On Raji, these were necessary to give the airships the maneuverability to avoid flying debris that would otherwise harm the ship. Here on Wysoom, these sails would give us speed and maneuverability other ships didn't have, though it would force us to avoid the Outer Seas and their unforgiving winds and storms. On cargo and ports, he had less to say, which even then aroused my suspicions somewhat, though he assured me that Village Idiot had the paperwork I would need for customs and a more detailed itinerary.
The rest of the night was spent chatting with my crewmates, and several anchovie pizzas and bottles of rum. I paid up my rent for the next few months to Ezekiel, and followed the rest of the crew out to the ship. She was a beaut, made of redwood apparently imported in from Dragonisle on Raji, and trimmed with a yellow-golden wood I couldn't exactly place. There was no figurehead, or other identifying marks for that matter, I had to ask Welzan're for the name of the ship. He answered with a slight grin, "I...like...a...little...irony...in...my...ssship...namesss....Abzeliusss...and...I...call...her...the...Ssshade...of...Dawn.
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:21:17 GMT -5
The next few days passed in a blur. Although I was somewhat familiar with the type of craft, The Shade was unlike any ship I had piloted in the water. It was a new experience for Village Idiot as well. The lateen sails were definitely going to be hard to manage--the yardarm was almost as long as the mast was tall, and when the wind caught it just right... We didn't have any serious incidents, but it would take us a while to really be comfortable with that sail plan. It offered speed, no denying that, but in storms we'd probably be better off reverting to square sales, which Abzelius had also fashioned for the main and aft masts.
In addition to our infamiliarity with the ship, our crew seemed more than a little green. It was rather difficult at times to communicate what I wanted them to do. For the first few days, Eillor had to practically translate my every sentence, but after that they seemed to get the hang of the basic jargon and technique. By the end of a week, VI and Welzan're felt we were probably as ready as we were going to be, and they loaded our cargo while I charted out our course as far as Tohunga, where we'd be making our first stop, mostly for supplies, I assumed. The next morning, we left port.
After about five days out of Sauronan, Eillor caught me on my way back to my cabin after my shift at piloting.
"Come see what I've been working on!"
I followed him down to the cargo hold, where we were greeted by twenty or so golems fashioned out of plate mail. In one corner was a pile of canvas bags, all printed with the word SUGAR. I checked the manifest, sure enough, our cargo was sugar. Apparently there had been plate mail hidden in the sugar. Lots of plate mail.
"SSSo...um,...what...are...all...the...golemsss...for?"
"To load and fire the cannons, when we get them," Eillor answered, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. I just stared at him.
"Heh, Welzan're didn't tell you? We're really a privateer, of sorts."
"Of...sssorts?"
"Yeah, we don't have paperwork, but we're not targetting ships of Sauronan, so it's all good, right?"
I buried my face in my claws.
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:21:47 GMT -5
To those not native to Wysoom, I would assume the concept of different nationalities on our planet would come as a bit of a suprise. To my knowledge, Sauronan is the only city foreigners ever really visit, though we sometimes invite land dwellers down to Kwa Rahl, a friend city to Sauronan. However, in its heyday, Atlantis had several colony cities scattered across the planet's surface. After it's demise, these colonies found themselves inadvertently independent. Many heard the call of the Elder, and allied with His new city Sauronan. Others did not, resenting the role the great Dragons had played in the loss of their beloved home. Thus a fractured set of increasingly nationalistic Jotun and Human kingdoms developed on the various islands scattered across the surface after the Fall. Apparently Welzan're felt vessels originating from these nations were fair game. My first impulse was to argue with this, but memories of rough receptions and chasing pirates to their sanctuaries in foreign ports made me keep my tongue.
We went ashore at Tohunga to pick up supplies and the cannons (apparently, Welzan're had decided he couldn't hide those in the sugar). To my delight, we spent a few days there. The tribal people of Tohunga have always fascinated me, a feeling I believe to be mutual. The Tohunga cover their bodies with tattoos, a practice that seems to have originated on the island, and was picked up by the Jomsvikings, who spread across Wysoom and beyond. Many Tohungan tattoos are used to give information about the owner, from position in the tribal hierarchy to marital status, while others are used in their shamanic form of magic, and one of my goals at the time was to learn to "read" them as I could Drakhen or Jotun. The Tohunga were likewise very curious about my shell carvings, and we spent the nights while we were there around the fire explaining what various patterns and symbols on our bodies meant.
During those couple of days, VI and I discussed the plans Welzan're had had in mind for our voyage, while the rest of the crew bartered with the Tohunga for fresh provisions. Welzan're wanted us to keep as low a profile as possible among Sauronan-friendly ports. We would have to "recover" the sugar that we weren't carrying from somewhere, ideally an enemy merchant ship, then sell this at a friendly port and buy some other cargo which we could sell on the next island, or back in Sauronan. Our manifest and port records had to be spotless, since Welzan're had a reputation to maintain in the Merchant Guild, his family, and with Abzelius. We would have to watch the shipping lanes in the Outer Seas to reliably find an old-colony trading ship, so we equipped the main mast with our square sail for stability.
At sundown on the second day, the rest of the crew started straggling in with their treasures. Eillor had gathered a great amount of fruit. Despite my skepticism about how viable storing fruit for the trip ahead was going to be, we took it on board. Eillor claimed he had an alchemical process called "canning" that he was going to apply to the fruit, somehow. Lathern had caught some wild game, which looked oddly gangrenous, but he assured me that it would be safe for the crew to eat. Tinge had refilled our water casks with fresh water. Ryath had gathered a very large quantity of... hemp.
I stared at him for a second, then asked, slowly, "Do...we...need...rope...that...badly?"
He just gave me a sort of dazed look for a bit, then said, almost as slowly, "Um,...rope,...yeah..."
I shrugged, and waved him on board. If he had time to make some extra rope, I wasn't going to stop him.
We departed from Tohunga at dawn. Once Tohunga was but a spot on the horizon we abandoned our original colors and adopted a more macabre display.
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:22:21 GMT -5
A few days later I woke up to the pungent smell of hashish. I quickly dressed and headed up to the main deck. Amidst a frenzy of Three Sisters' Islands Resort pizza boxes stuffed with cannabis flowers, Ryath had made a circle of chalk on the deck and was meditating in the center of it, obviously high on the drug. Around his neck was an amulet that looked vaguely familiar, a pyramid superimposed with an all-seeing eye, a motif I recognized from some of the more esoteric textbooks that covered the fringes of hermeticism that encroached upon spiritualism.
As I approached, Eillor thrust a sketchpad with a crude map of the Outer Ocean into my claws.
"There you are! We need your help finding our first victim---Ryath's going to start describing where we'll find it, you just need to help us pin it down."
"Isss...thisss...really...a...viable..." Eillor interrupted me with a loud "Shh" as Ryath started mumbling.
The first twenty minutes or so was mostly unintelligible with a few vaguely dirty comments about an anakim I could only assume was Tinge. Eventually he started describing ships, eliminating a the first few by their flags, then by the cargo they were carrying. Finally he settled on one that he sensed was carrying sugar and started describing the scene he saw. A ship sailing into the rising sun, leaving a semi-tropical island settled by Jotun farmers, lotus flowers blooming in the estuary where a fresh stream met the ocean and the bustling town's single dock.
"That'sss...got...to...be...Jarba....Any...idea...when...what...he..jussst...described...will...happen?"
"Hashish visions are almost always in real time, for some reason." Eillor replied, since Ryath had gone back to drooling over the anakim.
I nodded. "Hmm,...that'sss...doable,...me...thinksss."
I went down to my cabin and charted two courses. The first was my estimated course for our target, from Jarba to the Cicones, the next commonly visited island chain to the east. Jarba was three days away, if we continued at the pace we were going. The trip from Jarba to the Cicones generally took a week. If the weather held, and we shed the square sail for the lateen, we would be able to catch up with them easily before they reached the Cicones. I drew up our new course, and went to discuss our new plan with VillageIdiot.
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:22:53 GMT -5
To say that we struck without warning would be cliche. In all reality though, I had never seen a cleaner boarding. We came within sight of our target just as dawn began to break, five days after we changed course to intercept her. As soon as we were in range, Lathern began his work from the crow's nest, and soon billows of intoxicating gas could be seen rolling across the deck. As we got closer, the sound of drunken laughter could be heard along with the creaking of the ship as she glided through the water.
By the time we reached her, the crew was out cold in a drunken stupor. As VI maneuvered the Shade alongside our newfound treasure, Ryath and I boarded her. We carefully adjusted the yardage until her speed matched the Shade, then set up a bridge of gangplanks between the two ships. Eillor followed us with his army of golems, sending a few to keep guard over the sleeping crew, while the majority proceeded to the hold. They cleared it out, carrying bits and pieces from the one ship to the other like a line of shining ants raiding a neighboring anthill.
The experience was somewhat surreal. Ryath and Eillor were both a bit tipsy, as Lathern was careful to keep our prize saturated with gas. We goofed off a bit as we stepped around the sleeping crew, ordering golems to take or leave cargo as needed. Luckily, golems aren't susceptible to intoxication, and my own respiratory system does a lot to keep airborne toxins out of my blood stream, so some order was maintained. Even so, it took us a couple of hours to relieve them of their goods.
We left them floating in their drunken stupor, minus their cargo and a stack of pizzas I found Eillor and Ryath fighting over in the galley. They'd wake up around noon, confused as to where the day (and their cargo, and their pizza) went, while we would be far beyond the horizon by then. We would be a a mere shadow of a memory, if anyone remembered us at all.
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Post by madrados on Dec 17, 2008 2:23:35 GMT -5
We continued like that for six months before we decided it was time to return to Sauronan. Not all of our battles were quite as clean, since there are a number of races resistant to poison gases. In fact, the cause of our somewhat early return was losing our main mast to a frigate crewed by dwarves off the coast of Knossos. We ended up having to drape VillageIdiot with sails just to get home.
The day I had personally dreaded from the time I discovered we would be pirating came and went without much adieu, namely, the day I'd have to face a fellow tortle in combat. It was about three months into our voyage---she was the only crewmember still sober by the time we got to them. She had a piece on me the moment I swung on board, though as soon as she realized I was a tortle she lowered it, and conceded. She knew she'd be outnumbered, and she, like me did not enjoy the prospect of killing a fellow tortle. There is an odd solidarity among our nomadic people, the understanding that we, like the Gifted, have our own agenda in the Retroverse, and acts of violence against our own kind does not further that cause and are inherently pointless. So, instead of killing each other, we engaged in an ancient tortle tradition: cross-referencing.
"I...am...Lia,...of...the...independent...clan...of...Kaz'tch," she intoned.
I replied, "Madradosss,...which...means...motherlessssss;...I...have...neither...houssse...nor...clan."
She nodded, and we then proceeded to check each other's stories for events we had both witnessed. There weren't many. Her clan was from the North, and had mingled a bit with the colonies, though as Drakhen, they were not overly trusted. We had both fought some of the same pirates in those waters though, and it was interesting to see how those stories intermingled. I conjured up some acid for our styli (one of the perks to tortle mages and alchemists... buying acid-tipped styli can get expensive), and we began annotating our shells.
We didn't meet any more tortles on our voyage, which is probably just as well because Ryath and Lathern weren't very happy with the fact that I stood around talking to a girl all day while they had to work. And other than losing our main mast, the trip went pretty well... until we got back to Sauronan, that is...
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Post by madrados on Jan 2, 2009 5:01:52 GMT -5
We were promptly boarded by customs upon arriving in Sauronan, as was expected. Their response after seeing our papers, however, was not so expected.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Welzan're's paperwork expired three weeks ago. Since you have been out of port for nearly eight months, you will be allowed one day to get your paperwork in order. No cargo may be loaded or unloaded until proper paperwork is presented."
Two thoughts were running through my mind by this point---firstly, "This trip was supposed to be twice as long... what was Welzan're thinking?", and then the more pertenant "Where is Welzan're anyways?!"
We checked the usual places in the harbor as a group (except VI, who was a little attached to the ship by that point) without much luck, so we split up. It looked pretty bleak though by that point, as Ezekiel had told us he hadn't seen Welzan're in months.
I scoured the marketplace for a couple of hours, then decided to query the Merchant Guild. They were summarily unhelpful. After being asked to wait for what turned out to be another two hours, they came back to tell me that he hadn't been in that day, and couldn't say when he had been in last. The wait had given me time to come up with a backup plan though. Among the paperwork Welzan're had given me were documents stating that VillageIdiot and I could speak for him on our voyage. If I were also a member of the Merchant Guild, this might just be enough to get customs off our backs.
Dinner was a rather somber affair. No one had heard or seen anything of Welzan're. I explained my idea over some square pizza we'd bought at the Flying Barnacle and brought back to the ship. The only response I got was a nod from Eillor. The rest of the evening was spent in silence.
I woke up early the next morning and made my way to the Merchant Guild. They were happy to admit me... after I gave them the better portion of my split of the loot. The customs officer was also happy to let us proceed after I showed him my newly signed license. It ended up being a decent investment in the end though. Welzan're (when we finally found him) was somewhat impressed with our commitment to his ship and its cargo, and being a merchant guildmember ended up opening up other opportunities for me with other merchants seeking to buy and sell across the sea.
I spent the next few years cavorting around Wysoom with the Pizza Pirates, sometimes working for other merchants and other captains, but mostly with Welzan're, who generally made it worth our while, even if my "bonus" only amounted to working with the Shade, she was an awesome ship. I managed to pay for the rest of my mage training, and was admitted to the Lud, the tortle university in Kwa Rahl, famous the 'verse over for its Asphyxiamancy program. I had to stop sailing as a merchant when the war came, but that's for another story.
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