Prelude: Tavern Tales from the Bottom of the Sea

[Rorom]

94th of Vhalar 722

Preamble

Rorom was in Hopetoun by happenstance, having decided to sail for Scalvoris waters for a less stuffy and regimented existence than he was used to under the laws and yoke of the Videnese. Not to mention warmer weather for the wintering. While he enjoyed the Videnese for various aspects of their culture and society, he had to admit there was something about the freedom of life on the Hollow Sea, and the islands it was set upon that called to Rorom's sense as a fisher and a mariner. And also, part of him was dreading the prospect of a Videnese winter, trapped in a fortress.

Anyway, he was at Hopetoun docks, having known by reputation that the place was run by Darius Baer. Things had changed since last Rorom met the young pup. No longer a pup he'd say, but an important person in Scalvoris society. A Baron, and a settlement governor. Rorom wasn't sure if when he met with him, he ought to call him 'Excellency' or 'Your Grace' or some such. But Rorom was hardly one to stand on ceremony, so he'd just talk to him the same way he did with everyone he met in the open.

Rorom and his crew put his Onyx Cascade the black-painted sloop to dock near the harbor of Hopetoun. From there, he made his way to a place of hospitality, the Inn that was recommended by all of the people there. He had a silver nel in hand, which he slipped to a younger lad, if he'd fetch Darius to him.

Letting him to off to find the Mayor, Governor… whatever, Rorom and his mate Mastrel sat down to a pint each of Baron’s Brew at the tavern and inn. There, they’d wait to see Darius, and introductions would be made.

Rorom wasn't much of one to stand on ceremony where reunions were concerned. As a seafarer, and one from Ne'haer, where trips out to sea could take seasons at a time, and sometimes arcs, there was little point in sweet partings. Either they came back or they didn't. Anyone who knew or cared for another that rode the waves would know it hardened the heart, and those who didn't have the fortitude to withstand the long absences were smashed like sea mist on the shoals at low tide. Their affections were forgotten or turned sour as briny foam.

That wasn't to say that Rorom hadn't pined in his time, but this latest expedition, from Scalvoris, to Rharne, back to Viden and then Scalvoris again had seen him through some strange happenings. Tales that were notable enough to deserve retelling. And there was but one in Hopetoun that Rorom was sure would appreciate them. Perhaps more, but Rorom was not yet acquainted with them. Mastrel led the way to the tavern, having himself something of a sixth sense about the location of the nearest watering hole. Sure enough, they found their way to the Inn, the name to which Rorom couldn't quite place, but he was knackered enough not to worry about it.

Plus there was the weird feeling, of returning to the shores of Scalvoris. A place that had swept him up like a Tempest, barely prepared for the secrets and dangers that it had to offer, and then landing him flat on the ocean floor, or so it felt. The Sea Witch was out there, he could just about sense her, smell the stench of her magic even from Faldrass.

He rubbed his nose as he entered the Inn, determined more or less not to let her proximity ruin the occasion, but taking in the sweet smells of Baron's Brew, and fresh food.

Mastrel bellowed his arrival, shouting for a round of drinks on Rorom. The one-legged sailor was generous with his captain's coin, but then Rorom allowed the old salt those discretionary spendings. Mastrel wasn't the most frugal, but he knew how to keep the spirits of sailors up, so gave him that much slack.

Rorom and Mastrel settled down at a table in the middle of the Tavern, against Rorom's inclination. He'd prefer something in the corner, but it appeared occupied. Thus, they waited for the lad from before to fetch the Mayor of Hopetoun. Or founder, or whatever they'd call him. Rorom called him a good friend, at least, even through his somber mood.

[Darius Baer]

Arc 722, 94th of Vhalar

There had been a time, several arcs earlier, when the young lad who had eagerly accepted a nel and run from the docks to fetch someone was Darius himself. His little legs had carried him to different parts of Scalvoris Town, ducking around other pedestrians and squeezing through gaps that no adult would have any business trying to fit through.

That wasn't to say the young Scalvorian had no issues while running across town. Occasionally, other boys would chase him, sensing that he had a nel that they could easily pry from his hand, but he knew the maze of back streets and alleys and was usually able to evade them. On one particular errand, he bumped into a merchant at the Scalvoris Open Air Market, knocking some of the man's wares into the street. He gave up his coin that time, in an effort to make amends, but he completed his errand all the same - the regulars at the docks wouldn't let visitors pay him if he developed a reputation for not following through.

He liked being able to fetch whoever it was that was wanted. Even as a youngster, it made him feel important. But he never imagined that one trial, he might be important enough that someone would pay a boy a coin to fetch him...

Darius was doing something very adult and important when the boy came to fetch him: he was having a kick about with a small group of young settlers. They had fashioned a ball out of leather and stuffed it with pieces of cloth, and were passing it to one another with their feet. It was not a common sight for a baron and a leader of people to be seen kicking a ball with youths in a small clearing within Hopetoun's palisade wall, but Darius Baer was not a typical baron or leader of people.

Much of his childhood beliefs remained; he still didn't consider himself to be particularly important, notwithstanding the duties of the positions he held. If he could spend a break or two getting to know some of the younger Hopetounians and build some trust in doing so, then he would happily oblige.

"Cap'n Rorom from the Onyx Cascade is here to see you, milord," the young boy announced as he caught up with the bearded leader. "Says he wants to talk to you. He and another fella are in the Hopeful Rest."

Having delivered the message, the boy held out an open palm, and Darius grinned. He had done the same thing as a lad, and he thanked the young messenger with a coin that matched Rorom's.

Within bits, he was humming a familiar tune to himself as he made his way to the Hopeful Rest Inn...

...which was already in full song. Rorom might have reasonably expected to go unnoticed in most taverns across Scalvoris - save for any in Havardr, perhaps - but when your companion shouts everyone a drink, people tend to want to identify who their kind benefactor is. As it happened, a pair of sailors from the Libertalia were already at the Hopeful Rest Inn, and they knew who the tall biqaj man was almost immediately. Before long, they were leading many of the other patrons in a couple of choruses of their favourite sea shanty.

Darius entered the building just in time for a tankard of Baron's Brew to be pressed into his hand by Serena.

"Welcome, Darius," she smiled politely. "Courtesy of the man who caught Breachfang."

Darius chuckled as he arrived at Rorom's table, drink in hand.

"Clearly, your reputation precedes you," he grinned. "It's good to see you again."

Darius extended a hand to his fellow captain, then did the same for Mastrel, to whom he introduced himself.

Assuming he was invited to sit down, he would oblige.

A slow sip of beer was then taken as he savoured the taste.

"So," he eventually spoke again, placing the tankard on the table, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

[Rorom]

It took a few moments as Rorom got accustomed to the ambience within the Hopeful Rest. But trill after trill it dawned on him the words of the chanty being sung. Mastrel's brows quirked when Rorom's name was mentioned in passing. Not used to having a reputation of any kind, Rorom didn't know how he felt. But then, he'd traveled far and wide, and left traces of his influence in ports from Melrath to Athart and everywhere besides. Rorom was hard pressed to remember a port he hadn't visited, come to think of it.

Yet, he wasn't a captain for all those visits, and there were some arcs before he even managed to get his first ship, the Crag Dodger, when he'd been a ship hand on his old clan's brig. Looking back now, he thought some of the happiest days had been when he'd been a simple hand on another person's ship.

The song went on and on, continuing into the bits as Rorom and Mastrel were seated, and the round of drinks began circulating through the tavern. When Rorom heard Darius' voice, he remembered it well. Yet there was a certain air of authority to it now, and when he looked at the captain of the Libertalia, and the Founder of Hopetoun, he could see that the pup had exceeded the old dog in many ways. He was a community pillar, and arguably a hero of his nation. Rorom didn't have any regrets for the way he lived his wandering life, but he sometimes wondered what it's like to be more 'landed'.

He smiled in greeting to Darius, and shook his free hand, as he gestured with the other for the Baron to take a seat. "Please!"

Darius asked him what his business was in a polite manner, Rorom looked at Mastrel. "I were chasing a big black whale from Zynyx Delta, in Rharne. It sank one of me ships. It's a long story, but I'll tell it if yer keen."

Waiting for Darius to relax, he told the whole tale of how the storm had come suddenly, and inflicted the misfortune of a great whale which scuppered his sloop. Yet there was more to it, the story of how he'd saved himself. He left out that he had magic, as he hated to admit it, it was a point of shame to consider that he was still bewitched by a devilish influence.

"Cap'n here," Mastrel interjected, "Has all the swimmin' speed of a dolphin. To have fought agains the pull of a big old sinking ship. When I heard his story of survival and desire to hunt the great beast, I knew I had to join up."

Rorom nodded to Mastrel, "This is Mastrel, my Quartermaster." And he was certainly a prize to have landed as a lieutenant.

"But then..." Rorom told the story about how he'd been snatched from the flotsam, even as he suffered from wounds. By luck he'd been found by his crew, who'd been searching for him by the grace of his old apprentice, Eairok.

"So I was left with this nasty splintering wound." Rorom said, nodding to Mastrel. "He'll tell you it stank to high heaven. But you wouldn't believe who I met. THE Faith Augustin. Now this isn't the first run in I've had with the good doctor. I'd donated a few ships to her organization in the past, when I was looking to scale down my fleet."

Mastrel grunted when he heard that part. "Didn't know you had a bigger fleet, Cap'n. What kinder ships?"

Rorom shook his head at Mastrel. "Anyway, she fixed me right up. Lucky I didn't lose an arm."

"So as fer my business in your little island... I've tracked the black beast that wrecked my ship, and nearly took me with it. To this place. I were wondering, since I'm in the area, if I can ask the famous Darius Baer if he'd go on another fishin' expedition with me." Rorom grinned, "You can have the wealth of the whale's fat and meat, and bone into the bargain. I'd only ask for a bit of its baleen and ivory, that's all."

"And I'd ask that I stand in as a hand on your ship. We'll use the Onyx Cascade, but Mastrel will captain it for this purpose, if'n you're up for a hunt."

But then, Rorom realized he'd been terribly rude in cutting to the chase. "But now, surely it's been two arcs since I seen ya. You must have a story or two to tell?"

[Darius Baer]

The warm froth from Darius' drink clung to his beard when he lowered the tankard to the table. The follicled foam looked like a second smile as its wearer grinned at the start of Rorom's tale.

The experience of sailing tended to present itself as long periods of inactivity, punctuated by moments of great peril and excitement. Those adrenaline-filled moments - or, indeed, exaggerated or embellished recollections of them - made for brilliant stories to exchange during the quieter periods. And though Darius didn't consider himself as much a sailor as his father, or of Rorom, he still recognised the currency that his guest was trading in.

Licking away the foam from his beard, and with the singing around them slowly fading away, Darius became an avid listener. He consciously choose not to question how close to reality the story might have been, and allowed himself to be taken in by the wonder of what was being told.

It quickly became clear to Darius that sailing was not the only thing Josef Baer and Rorom shared in common; both men were also quite capable of weaving a tale that would enrapture anyone fortunate enough to listen.

Rorom's story - complete with Mastrel's eager interjections - was so engrossing that Darius almost missed the man's proposal.

Almost.

But he decided to answer the question put to him first.

"I've spent a lot less time on the water than you have these past two arcs, I'd wager," Darius grinned, before leaning forward and dropping his voice in the way his father would in an attempt to draw a listener in, as if he had a secret to share. "But did I tell you about the time Chrien herself attempted to sink the Libertalia?"

And so he told the tale of how, just a pair of seasons before he met Rorom, Darius and the crew of the Libertalia were on the Orm'del Sea, en route to the siege at Storm's Edge. They encountered what they believed to be the survivor of a shipwreck, and despite the misgivings of a couple of crew members, they rescued the man. Then misfortune befell them, with Chrien unleashing her wrath upon the Libertalia and all who sailed her.

Somehow, Darius and the crew had managed to repel her attack, but they were left to lick their wounds as they continued their journey.

With their exchange of tales completed, Darius swallowed another draught of ale before turning his attention back to Rorom's purpose for visiting Hopetoun.

"So...this whale has been sighted near here?"

Darius spoke with a tone of genuine concern. If the beast had almost sent a sloop to the bottom of the ocean, the settlement's fishing boats would stand little chance of avoiding a similar fate. And as settlement leader, he had a responsibility to protect those who called Hopetoun home.

"I will ensure the Libertalia is ready to sail at the right time, and you are welcome to share the deck. Where and when was it last seen?"

They would need a plan, of course. The whale might have a routine, surfacing at similar times each trial. But knowing that, and knowing how to stop it, were two entirely different things.