Post by En1gma on Nov 28, 2014 21:32:55 GMT -5
A Vengeance Undertaken
Chapter One:
“Old man, come to me”, spoke a man in the corner of the tavern. It was almost too quiet to hear, and the old man looked for the voice, but could not see past the light of the fire into the shadows.
“Who said that? My eyesight has faded and I cannot see you.” The man spoke again, louder, enough that the older man heard him. Upon hearing him more clearly, the old man gathered his cane and pouch, and slowly made his way into the shadow that held residence to the voice he had heard. “Who is that? It is difficult to see you, why is there no candle lit on your table,” inquired the old man.
“I am but a man who would take pity on one such as yourself. I wonder, how many times have you told that story?” Still in the shadows, the old man reached behind himself unsteadily and took the lit candle from the table behind them. As he brought it to the table, he replied to the man who had called him over.
“More times than I can count. I took a vow to find these accursed things and wipe them from the face of Laanbrakar. I spent two decades in my search on the seas, and the last two decades traveling the lands until I could find someone who would fulfill my oath for me. Many have pulled me aside, like yourself, but as I have no money to offer for the deed, none have lent their hand to my cause. I can only assume that you will do the same. That being said, stranger, I bid you goodnight.” He got up to leave, but as he did, a hand reached out and caught his arm.
“I don’t want your money, old man, now sit down.” He looked at the hand on his arm and could see dozens of scars, some fresh, others were so old it looked as if he had been born with them. “I have a ship, I have men, and I have heard rumors of you for years. Two years now I have looked for you, and here you are. They said you were a raving lunatic, addled by years of hatred and vengeance lost. I never believed a word of it and I am here to take your commission.” The old man blinked numbly, tears coming to his eyes unbidden, but unabated. He couldn’t even speak, he just sat and cried, his soul pouring onto the table beneath his face. The man took the candle the other had moved to the table and lit the small lantern between them, light slowly filling the corner of the tavern. The man came into view, but the old man couldn’t see him through his tears. “Are you hungry? I’ve been smelling the venison the cooks have been roasting all night and I can no longer help myself.” The old man looked up from his waning misery and nodded, sitting upright and making an attempt to compose himself.
“That would be lovely, stranger. Would you tell me your name? I would hate to continue calling my savior ‘stranger’ any longer than I already have.”
“My name is Armel Kgosi, captain of the War Galleon named Sorrow of Infinity. I have made my name across the ocean hunting the fell beasts known as Kraken, yet the hunting has been slow as of late. Once the rumors of Kraken sightings all but stopped, I began to hear others mentioning these Demons that sail the seas, enslaving the very souls of men. I immediately began to seek you out, but I knew not where to find you.” The old man looked at him and replied,
“It appears that you have found me, and not a year too soon, my newfound friend. My age is catching up with me, and I fear I won’t be around for much longer, and yet I feel some semblance of my old vigor returning as I see the barkeep making our plates back there. I truly cannot convey the amount of joy and vindication you have brought me tonight. I thank you, Armel Kgosi, and swear myself to whatever service I can employ to you and your crew. I am truly in your debt.” Tears once again sprang to his eyes, but he wiped them away, managing to keep himself composed.
“Old man, before we break bread as new friends, I would have your name. I find it disrespectful to refer to you only by your age and gender.” The old man eagerly picked up the obligatory mug of ale offered by the barkeep and drank deeply. A few drops dripped onto his shirt, retained by his white mustache, and he spoke.
“Maynard, Maynard Beltran. And it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Armel. A pleasure indeed.”