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Post by mcian on May 10, 2023 0:12:20 GMT -5
The Lady Concordia slipped into the empty berth at Papua’s docks and dropped anchor. Moments later a tall, thin, hooded man with flaming red hair, mustache and eyebrows to match, stepped off onto the pier. The harbor master greeted him with a respectful bow.
“Greetings to you! Welcome to Papua! I am the harbor master – at your service… uh?” “Lord Thraxas. I hail from Moonglow. I have come by accident as my vessel was attacked by pirates and we successfully eluded them through the portal to here. The ship incurred a bit of damage but soon enough it can be fixed. Might you show me around, please?” “Aye, sir! I would but I must remain here. If you venture along the road you’ll get to know it; tis not a big place… just stay to the roads or you’ll get your shoes all muddy. Lots of swamp around here.” Throwing him a disdainful, unappreciative glance, which he quickly erased with a charming smile, Thraxas nodded. “Thank you for your aid. My mates aboard the ship will inquire about materials for repairs. Assist them as you may, please?” “Sure, sure! Be glad to!” the harbor master smiled, then took a few moments to survey the vessel. “A gargy! Nice,” he commented. Thraxas ignored him and went ahead into the town, making his way to the Inn, where he found the proprietor. The two struck up a friendly conversation, sat and spoke of a business proposition, and then proceeded to unload the ship’s cargo of crated wine which did not take long. He made sure it was carried safely to the Inn and locked securely. Then, buying the best room at the Inn, Thraxas undressed and lay down on the hard bed, staring up at the ceiling. Already the sun was setting but the heat was still oppressive. “The easy part is done,” he murmured. “Now the hard part.”
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Post by mcian on May 10, 2023 9:13:26 GMT -5
The Master takes a Holiday "Kelvearn, I have been looking everywhere for you. Where is the master, the Elder? I cannot find him anywhere and the guards, dolts that they are, seem quite nonchalant to the point of cluelessness!" Malikai inquired upon entering the reading room at the palace of the Elder. The thin, dark-robed but white-haired scholar sat in a cramped study cubicle pouring over an old, musty, book, comparing it to others which lay piled in front of him on a cold, ebony, stone table. A single candle fused upon a yellowing human skull provided the dim illumination, but was all he required, being drow. He did not turn around nor in any way alter what he had been doing. In fact, he turned a page. "I do not know where he is. Leave me alone. I have work to do," he commented, abjectly unconcerned. "You must know where he is! He tells you everything! I cannot find the mistress or I would talk to her! I have to report to him. He will be very upset if I fail to do this. You must give me some idea or help me locate him," he persisted. Kelvearn sighed and turned around, leaning his slim arm on the back of the stone chair upon which he sat. "He told me he was going to take a small holiday; that he has some business to attend, all his own. He did not leave a forwarding address because he does not wish to be disturbed. Can he not get away from this gleaming prison long enough to enjoy life for himself on occasion?!" he glared. "Holiday?! That's preposterous! When has he ever done that?" "The point precisely!" the drow responded, turning around and re-engaging his attention upon the book. "Tell whomever you wish. He does not want anyone following him or searching for him. He plans to be back within a fortnight. Now, will you please just go away." Malikai peered over his shoulder. "What is it you are studying?" Without a pause, Kelvearn explained, "I am researching the correlation between interdimensional time rifts and the disappearance of people, as it relates to the space-time continuum disrupted deliberately by the acquisition, alteration, and utilization of certain relics, words, and spells by historical persons and groups. It is a fascinating study." Malikai nodded. "I'm... sure," he remarked. "I will leave it to you then," he whispered as he exited the room. "And none too soon," the drow muttered.
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Post by mcian on May 10, 2023 13:58:58 GMT -5
Not Quite the Holiday The darkness was absolute; even his drow eyes, enhanced by his vampirism, could not penetrate it to see what lay inches in front of his face. The smell of moisture and water-saturated wood assailed his nostrils. His keen ears could hear the rushing of deep water just outside his containment. His containment was his coffin. The moisture was the water flowing freely within it as it entered through cracks and small apertures created by the hinges. He could not move. His thoughts raced as he tried all he could to speak, but no words came forth, drowned as they would have been by the all-pervading liquid anyway. He was helpless. Damian Racsen, the Elder, focused on the last thing he remembered: he had entered his coffin after an enjoyable liaison with his consort, Virani, to sleep through the day as was his custom, that he might be re-energized and ready for the business of the night, and his usual feeding. He remembered nothing else. Somehow, someone, had moved him in his coffin to some kind of stream or river, making sure he would be unable to escape. They did not kill me, and could have. What is their purpose?
Patience was his virtue, having lived, or existed, for centuries in one form or another. Anger would only add to his frustration. There had to be a cause for this situation beyond mere torment; he clung to that hope. They will find me. Between the two of them, they will. All I have to do is wait. But when I get out...
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