Reuniting At The Docks

Leaving the inn after their meal, Denlo heads into the twilight on the street. From behind him, Sari complains. “You didn’t have to shoo her away, Den,” she says.

Denlo, masked once more in case of trouble, turns back towards his crewmate. “I did.” He let himself smile beneath the mask and held in that moment of tension, before adding, “Otherwise she would have met Ren.”

Sister Hilan looks a bit confused. “Is that not what she wanted?”

Denlo shrugs. “What people think they want, and what they actually want aren’t always the same.”

Sari, who understood better, shakes her head. “Don’t stand there spouting nonsense acting like this was because of what she would want.” Then, after a moment, she does admit, “Though it was probably a good call, I will admit.”

“What was a good call?” the pious woman presses.

Denlo decides to explain, in his own way. “People have two reactions to Ren, they like him or they hate him. If we want to make a friend, best avoid that coinflip until well after they’ve decided that they like the rest of us.”

They begin their walk down towards the docks. Hilan shakes her head. “But surely he is talented and affable enough to make friendly with anyone with whom he’d wish to be friends?”

Sari nods along. Den shrugs before offering, “Friends, enemies, doesn’t much matter to Ren. Either way, he’s remembered.” Deciding to move the conversation away from Renalt to their other wayward companion, Den adds, “What of Felazo?”

“She liked him fine,” Sister Hilan states, “Honestly, a bit better than she should like one who plays with the dead such as he.”

“Not that,” Den states, and looks at Sari, “The books.” He returns to his normal dialogue, limiting his words to those strictly necessary for conveying the idea.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she offers, “Though whether or not he got the books he was looking for is another issue entirely.”

The trio make their way back to the docks. As they arrive, the sun crosses below the city behind them, extending their already long shadows as they await their pair of crewmates’ return. It takes a minute, but soon enough, just as the shadows vanish into the dimming twilight, a massive figure approaches, dwarfing even Denlo’s own tall, wide form. From atop a bear, Renalt’s voice says, “Good eve, fellow sailors of the Ekzokia v’Icria.”

Denlo, utterly unsurprised by this new ridiculousness, corrects his travelling companion. “It’s night.”

Sister Hilan, on the other hand, has a much more normal reaction. “Are you? Where did you? How, why? A Bear?”

Sari looks deeply into the bear’s eyes, in a way that is somehow both unsettling and peaceful, as Renalt answers some of the monastic woman’s questions. “Well, I was meeting with a friend of an enemy of a competitor of mine, and I mentioned I needed to get to the dock by sundown, and he kindly did offer one of his trained bears to hasten the travel.”

Sari nods to the bear, then looks up at Ren. “So, are we all set for setting sail tomorrow noontime?”

“‘Tis all in place, all that be left is the execution,” Renalt states.

From their right, a little ways off, a voice replies to his statement. “Who’s execution? Hopefully not mine,” Felazo jokes.

Denlo shakes his head at their approaching captain, before noticing two things. One, he does not walk the docks alone, and two, he looks in truly terrible sorts. Burned, bruised, and shoddily healed before getting bruised again. So instead of making any more familiar comment that out of context might be a problem, Denlo simply asks, “Trouble?” as his hand drops to his belt. If it is actually trouble, he decided it would likely be faster to disconnect the second belt, the one acting as a holder for his blade, from the new belt entirely, rather than go through the process of drawing the blade without causing too much damage to Ren’s belts.

The dwarf woman with Felazo grins. “Trouble? Always,” she says, eager for some more action.

Felazo, on the other hand, clearly does not. “Not anymore. Just an old friend.”

From atop the bear, Renalt offers, “If thy truly be an old friend of the captain, we do welcome thee. I am not but a humble musician, those few who might recognize me call me Renalt.”

The dwarf friend of their captain looks across the four of them, and muses aloud to Felazo, “So this is the whole of your dingy’s crew?”

Felazo replies, “The Ekzokia may be small, but at least it’s seaworthy. Hard to really even consider yourself a sailor without that, right?”

“I can always change the terms to include rude statements as things that irritate me,” this new woman says to him, then to the rest of them, she adds, “Apologies for your captain, he’s being quite rude. I am Ultorolim the Squall, pirate captain extraordinaire.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sister Hilan replies immediately to the introduction with a pleasant smile, “I am a sister of the Darian Order of the Bold Flame, blessed Hilan.” She, likely out of respect, makes certain to introduce herself as formally as she can to this less than formal person.

Sari tried her own introduction slightly less formally. “I am called Sari, I’m a scout and master of nature. Why do they call you the Squall?”

“There’s one more of you left,” Ultorolim says, rather than answering the perfectly reasonable question.

Den furrows his brow beneath his mask, before introducing himself. “Den. Answer the question.” As he says this, he unhooks the belt partially.

Ultorolim smiles. “Because the storms heed my call. Did you earn that sword?”

“No such thing,” Denlo replies instead of trying to give an answer, “Things are things. You either have them or you don’t, and no one who has anything has earned it. Just like those that don’t have.”

“A dark take,” Sari replies. Behind his mask, Den smirks. Of course Alessari, the one of noble birth, would disagree.

“But an interesting one,” Ultorolim offers, “And a good way to skirt questions.” The dwarf then turns to the captain. “So, I just wanted to make sure my bet would pay off, and thank you for making me less certain than ever.”

“Hey,” Felazo protests, “The Ekzokia is not some weighty monster that needs so many crewmembers to function. And we’re perfectly capable of managing any dangers we come across.”

“What praytell gamble didst thou make, scintillator of the strengthening storm, that rely so greatly on our captain and our capability?” Ren asks, still atop the bear that he’s borrowing.

She looks up at the bard. “I didn’t kill him, in spite of everything, and even offered him a book. In return, in what I assume will be quite some time from now when next you are in this port, he has promised me some things. And you’ll need to make sure he can deliver.”

“Is it just me,” Sari muses aloud, “Or does that sound like a threat.” She readies herself.

“It is,” Ultorolim states as a roiling mist washes past her and she vanishes from view. “I just prefer to leave the ‘or else’s unstated.” After vanishing, her voice seems to echo as though it comes from the air itself.

Sari turns and looks in a random direction, as far as Denlo can tell, before saying, “Good bye, Squall. I suppose we will see you after we return.”

From that direction, Ultorolim offers, “Perhaps I am wrong and you will.” Denlo can hear genuine surprise in the pirate’s voice. She’d underestimate how much attention Sari pays to her surroundings.

Felazo shakes his head as he sits down for a moment. “You probably shouldn’t’ve done that, scion,” he says. “She isn’t one to underestimate someone twice, not after being shown the error of her ways.”

“You good to move?” Den asks his captain.

The elf man takes a moment, then replies, “Give me a moment, then certainly. That barfight did not help matters, and may have opened back up a few rough spots.”

“That is all from a bar fight?” Sister Hilan asks, “What sort of bar were you in?”

Felazo smiles at the pious woman. “No, most of this was from surprising Ultorolim when she was still grumpy with me. Though I suppose she did participate in the bar fight as well, though without intent to do real damage to the idiot sailors about. Just enough to remind them, I would guess.”

“Remind them of what?” Denlo asks.

The Elfi’ika helps his captain to his feet as the Sea Elf explains. “Ultorolim is a pirate who’s been unable to go out to sea for some time. She needs to occasionally show her strength to the sailors of the docks, so they can remember why she ought not be messed with. Remember our discussion of pirates?”

Denlo nods. But As they start to head out of the docks, Renalt asks a question. “But why is she incapable of sail? Hath she offended some element of the waters? As being one with the storm, I must assume it be not the weather that prevents her.”

“Evidently,” Felazo explains, “She went for a prize and found a well equipped gunship instead. They managed to escape, after doing enough damage to prevent pursuit, but their ship, the Istargin, was not quite as lucky, so they are dry-docked for repairs and refittings.”

On their way back through town, Sari warns the pair that were absent. “To save money for important things, we only got one room. If you don’t like it, you can pay out of pocket or head back to the ship for the night.”

“Very well,” Felazo says, “Though that does mean you will be dealing with my morning preparations for the day ahead.”

“And mine own habits in town,” Renalt adds.

“We understand,” Den states, “But survival is more important. And if we are to survive, our money has to be spent on the ability to heal ourselves and the power of our gear. Not luxuries.”

Renalt smiles at the man he’s traveled with for a few more weeks than the others. “But what is survival without luxury?”

Den stares Ren down. “Ren, you have never paid for an inn stay in your life.”

“Mean that that I do not enjoy the finer things?” Ren counters.

“No. That means that if you want a room, you can get it yourself,” Den presses.

Ren shrugs. “‘Tis no big issue. Merely an observation. Though to get mine own room at this hour would be to pay for one. To play for one after the sun falls fully beneath the horizon would require a great deal of effort and time, both in the convincing and in the performing. I do always say, ‘tis easier to simply pay then busk the following day, when one is this late in finding their place to stay.”

Sari shakes her head. “Come on,” she says as they reach the inn, “We’re just upstairs. And I would like to sleep in a bed again. It’s been ages.” Renalt gets off of the bear and hands it its own reins. The bear starts to walk itself northward.

Denlo counters, “It’s been about a week,” he reminds her.

“Doesn’t feel it. Feels like it’s been much much longer,” she replies. “What with the sailing, and the delving, and the pirates both living and dead. It’s been a long week.”

Felazo decides to chime in as they enter, “That dungeon floor you three got to nap on looked quite comfortable.”

Denlo can’t help but chuckle, though Sari and Sister Hilan both look embarrassed, remembering their failures. As they head towards the stairs, Renalt stops them. “Mind if you wait a moment?” he asks, then leaves before anyone can answer, heading to the innkeep and talking for a moment. After their conversation, whatever it held, and a few minutes of standing awkwardly by the inn’s stairs, Ren returns with some bread and meat. “Now we can venture to our room.”

“Did you skip your supper?” Sister Hilan asks.

Renalt looks at her, confused. Then, looking down at his bundle of food, smiles. “Oh this? Not to worry, it be not for me,” he states, though offers no additional explanation as they arrive at their room.