Blood of the Warkings

[Galzra]

Rowan's smile did not falter as he veered to the left, up and down the steep, untrodden path that disappeared beneath the wooden platform upon which the outpost perched. A weathered old hut stood by the side, protected by a pair of wretched gargoyles etched in emerald stone. Rowan had never had a taste for their contemptuous, white-toothed grinning or their hideous, bulging eyeballs, but they had never once felt out of sorts. Their wretchedness complemented the woebegone scenery quite successfully.

"If you think it wise, by all means," he sounded off, half-heartedly, "he might rid himself the savagery." Ardeyn looked a stark rabid beast, his fangs itching to bite into Warking flesh, or so Rowan thought. He had no desire to exchange words with the Naerale Youth and thought it not long before they part ways. Albeit Ardeyn Faw's deft swordsmanship, if one would reckon so, had come in handy, he and the woman were a burden Rowan was presently unable to afford. He would grant them an exit so far as his influence and good manners went, but afterwards, they would be on their own. "Perhaps you could instill some courtesy," he spoke in a low voice.

Up ahead, he spied three men fashioned in Poole armor unconscious and firmly tied around a wine barrel. Another one hung by a loose rope over the edge of the wharf, sea water fondling his bald pate. The old man, robbed off his spear, lay in tight ropes against a thick, wooden bollard alloyed by the tip with rusty metal. He was much aware and his charcoal eyes bore deep within Rowan's, taken aback and frightened. He was without a doubt taken aback by the young Lord's actions but he spoke not a word for fear of his life. "I wish you no harm, good man," Rowan claimed, pulling out and brandishing his dagger. "King Haimmon has had his life abruptly taken. I know not why, but rest assured, it was not by our hands. You may opt for disbelief, it matters not, but I wish for you to sail and inform your Lord of what has happened here, spare not a detail," he bowed slightly and jammed the dagger between the old man's legs. "Once we leave, you may wish to free yourselves,"

"Ye sure 'bout that, m'lord?" a young man asked with just a hint of a smile, towering above Rowan. He was twice Rowan's size, equally dreadful but he bore no ill-will. In a matter of seconds, he fell to his knee in front of his Lord, not a hint of alleged courtesy. "Would if we could shut 'em up for good," he drawled his sloppy vowels, staring straight Rowan's way. He, too, was a brute, a savage beast much alike Ardeyn but superior in strength and mockery yet no other man had ever been more loyal to Rowan. He was a pure blooded Stone Giant of the North who opted to waste away his days in this forsaken place rather than face the gallows.

"I'd rather not brave Poole wrath," Rowan retorted, walking past the old man for a better look at the berthed ship. She was small but agile with a mast carved off a special wildwood. The sails billowed in the wind like fleeting ghosts. "Where would Myles be?" A slender youth, his hair the color of gold and his eyes ocean blue gemstones, staggered into view, struggling with a crate in his arms.

"Here I am, my Lord," his speech was most refine. He was fashioned in Poole armor but his loyalties lay elsewhere. "supplies for my Lord. I have always wanted to sail. I hear that the Wolfen Islands are quite an adventure!" the young man chirped, his white-toothed smile plastered across his smooth, beaming face. He ranted on, while Rowan turned to his Naerale companions.

"I'd rather we not waste time in useless banter. Gather up supplies and board the ship. We set sails immediately," Rowan commanded.

"M'lord," the tall one, whose name rang Gared, interrupted, "wen 'v we sided with 'em beasts?" he sized up the Naerale woman as a predator slunk its prey. Rowan barely batted an eye to Gared's lascivious tendencies.

"Queer circumstances, Gared. Keep away, I have a debt to honor," spoke Rowan in a stern tone. Gared cast a long look at Ardeyn Faw, his eyes filled with no such thing as hate but amusement, temptation.

"Aye," Gared slurred, "supplies then, fellows,"

(Feel free to control these two)​

 

[CaptainObvious]

"I will try my very best, thank you My Lord." Talika bowed her head down, even though Rowan had his back to her as they ascended out of the the tunnel, it was a force of habit. She hoped convincing Ardeyn to learn some of the common tongue would be as easy and painfree as it had been convincing Rowan that it was a good idea. She wasn't optimistic as she looked over her shoulder at the tall, foreboding figure. She knew Rowan and other Warking's would look down on him, simply because he was Naerale, but he held his head high and proud always. Fortunately, the rebels hadn't been stripped of their armours, only their weapons, tossed away into cells as they were snatched up during their uprising. Unlike the plate-steel armour Warking's used, Naerale armour consisted of leathers, it was light and flexible, but nowhere near as strong. It suited the Naerale fighting style and had its own advantages, luckily for Ardeyn, Warking's often deemed that armour inadequate and useless and didn't strip it away when throwing them into dungeons. She believed he'd have held his head high even wearing tattered rags, but at least in his armour he had some shred of pride and dignity left that didn't seem utterly out of place given his powerless position.

Ardeyn noticed the suspicious glances and returned them with venomous glares, of course he was the one out of place here, not the Warkings so their suspicion was warranted. Talika kept her eyes to the ground and her hands folded respectfully in front of her. She ignored the hungry glances Gared gave her but Ardeyn didn't miss a thing.
"What does this worm say? I wish to know so I will understand the words he will choke on." Ardeyn said, even in the soft lilting tongue he spoke, there was sharpness there all the same.
"He asks when Master Rowan chose to side with beasts." she replied in a controlled tone.
"Is that all he says?" he asked, giving Gared a wary look, he'd suspected he was making lewd remarks about Tali.
"Yes. Lord Forthwind warns the strange man to keep his distance, he has a debt to honour, I suspect he means to grant us freedom for aiding his escape."
Ardeyn looked warily from Gared to Rowan and followed them up toward the modestly sized ship. "A Warking has no honour. Do not trust his false words in his cursed tongue."
Talika sighed and trailed behind them. Ardeyn analysed everyone around them though he didn't understand a word. She wondered if he would think differently of them if he understood what they were saying. Perhaps he'd hate them more,or perhaps he'd hate them less, she couldn't be sure.

Gared took a step too close to Talika. Ardeyn held out his arm to bar him taking another step closer, frozen, his gaze locked with the giants eyes. "Not one step closer."
Talika looked up at Gared, wondering if she was expected to translate, then found her voice, though it was barely a squeak. "He asks you not take a step closer, My Lord."
A smirk spread across Gared's face and he took a step back, giving his arm a gracious sweep back, he wasn't intimidated by Ardeyn, nor did he particularly care about Talika's translations, Rowan had given an order, he knew better than to defy him.
"Tell 'im thats a fine sword he 'as, he better be careful not to prick 'imself wiv it" Gared strode up onto the deck.
Talika prepared to translate but thought better of it and simply walked up onto the deck.

She wondered where best they place themselves on the ship, they couldn't sit up on the upper deck wher ethey might be seen, yet she wondered if they would get in the way or upset anyone if they snuck below deck.
"Lord Forthwind, should we wait below deck where we may not be seen."
She wondered what would happen if they were caught, would Rowan be punished or would he hand them over and betray them? He was already in a compromised position, with the murder of the king pointing in their direction, would they really be that lenient? It was unlikely, they all faced the chopping block, did any of it really matter anymore? Fraternising with Naerale "scum" was the least of Rowan's crimes for now.

 

[Galzra]

Myles skidded in the curve on the wet wooden pulpit, weighed down by the fruit crate in his arms. He huffed and puffed aloud, casting a plea Rowan's way but the stern young Lord of House Forthwind paid scant attention. Rowan was deep in thought, his thumb pressed hard on his chin. Myles had always found that incredibly diligent and gallant of Rowan, oftentimes hard at work in the attempt to mime Rowan perfectly. Alas, would Myles if he were able to stand with his back so upright and shoulders so broad and neck so proud, but aware he had always been that it was not a given.

A sigh rolled off his chapped lips, "you are unbelievably handsome," he heard himself breathe out, quite unintentionally. A lump of air stopped at his throat at the horror. Myles had always been bluntly straightforward, perhaps painfully bold at times, but he would always strike a chord of contempt with Lord Rowan, compliment-wise. He cursed under his breath, his brows drawn into two golden threads. "I know, I know," he began in a crisp tone. Rowan heard none of that, "you would rather Myles would start nitpicking at word choice and order, would I if I were not a Poole," a light chuckle bruised his lips.

"Why is your mouth hard at work when your arms and legs are in most want of precisely that?" Rowan slurred a most beautiful passage from vowels to consonants, the tips of his oblong fingers nipping to and fro at the cuffs firm 'round his wrists. He started forward and boarded the ship, feeling her sway sideways gently. Salty air filled his lungs, his mind and body at ease for a moment's chance. "Go on now, fetch the ravens." Myles bobbed his head with respect and went about his work. He had filled the ship's hold with a year's supply of food, more than they would be in need of, but such was the young Poole, ever-thoughtful.

Rowan cast the lilac sky above a quick glance, imploring the olden gods for a save journey. From the corner of his eye, he spied Gared's vicious, white-toothed grin. "Set the course for the Isle, would you, Gared?" he spoke in a manner most refined. Wolfen Islands would take some time for Lord Andrion to pick apart, Rowan wagered, but he would have an even worse a time ploughing into an uncharted piece of land. His stone-cold eyes fell upon the frail figure of the Naerale woman, himself pondering her question.

"Aye, cap'n," Gared cracked his knuckles and flashed twisted joy out of his unnerving marbles, making his way to the weather deck so he could play helmsman this time. He spied the young Naerale woman once more, staggering into her personal space, nipping at a wisp of her hair briefly before going about his way, "Ye might want to hol' on t' sumthin'. It's a rough ride." Rowan was not as indifferent this time around. A light scowl graced his face as he approached the woman.

"Should he make himself a hassle, a slap would do," he advised, running his fingers through his slick, ink-black hair. "I would rather keep an eye on the fiend. Keep him on the deck, Myles would be enough to overpower him, should he pick a fight." The Poole boy was an excellent swordsman and even better wrestler. "You are still a scribe, woman. I need use of your skills. Come with me," he beckoned her towards the captain's quarters. Myles had been quick to fetch a raven, as black as a starless night. Rowan had taken it with, leaving Myles in charge of Ardeyn.

 

[CaptainObvious]

Talika wanted to tell them it was unwise to send Ardeyn and her to separate parts of the ship, someone needed to translate for him and to him and she was the only one able to speak both their tongues. She was used to being the only one of her kind amid a sea of noble Warking Lords so the ship and its crew was not entirely beyond the company she was used to keeping, certainly a little rougher, but they were all the same blood nonetheless. But Ardeyn? These were not his people, he didn't understand their customs, their language, their gestures. He could misinterpret a gesture at the drop of a hat and kill someone, she had no doubts of his abilities. Yes, he had been captured in the uprising, but the odds had been overwhelming, he had been doublecrossed and a trap had been laid for them. An army ten times the size of the rebels infantry would have been caught, perhaps more of a struggle would have ensued but the result would have been the same.

She shuddered as Gared took his leave, he was certainly not a Lord, at least, he didn't behave as a Lord should. Even though Rowan loathed her, he managed to let her maintain some shred of dignity. Gared made her skin crawl and seemed to draw amusement from the fact that he made her uncomfortable. While she was relieved Rowan wanted to keep her close by, and seemed not to desire her getting harmed. The same could not be said for her Naerali accomplice ... no one cared if he was harmed and he seemed to care about no one related to Warkings, be it by blood or by service.

"Ardeyn, you must sheath your blade, do not spill Warking blood this day." she said carefully, already she could see his face crinkle in scorn.
"Look around you, you are outnumbered, overwhelmed and you are in their environment not yours, I do not doubt your martial prowess, but I know for a fact you will be gutted out here if you defy them" she wondered how her voice suddenly became powerful, her knees felt less weak even though they still swayed beneath her due to the gentle swell of the sea below. She knew she'd never be strong enough to even hope to overwhelm Ardeyn, or anyone on the ship for that matter, but something in her felt a little more tempered all of a sudden.
"If you wish to escape you must survive, if you wish to survive you must do as they say and then when you know your ways, you can strike and hit where they will be wounded most gravely" of course she didn't mean to give him the idea of escaping ... she just needed him to comply on the short term, perhaps once they docked in ... wherever they were going, he could escape then. She needed to keep him compliant till then.
"You are brave but your words are hollow" Ardeyn replied, deadpan, Talika felt deflated her act hadn't been convincing enough.
"What have I said that is untrue?" she dared to say, though he was violent, she didn't doubt Ardeyn could be reasonable when the situation called for it.
"It is not what you say, but what you imply. Your words are true but you speak as if you support the Naerale cause, to strike them where they will be most gravely wounded, but you serve these people."She nodded her head, he was right, but it had saved her life, and possibly his as well.
"You have saved my life Ardeyn, with your sword, and I have been able to aid you as well, with my voice. Let us work together a little longer, for our ancestors sakes. Stay your hand."Ardeyn bristled slightly at the thought of bowing and scraping to Warkings because Talika willed him to do so, but he had no other choice anyway.

"Do not lie about our ancestors, you have let them down, you have betrayed your House Words."

She shook her head, "Wisdom can rule the stars ... Knowledge has been my Houses strength, as steel was your Houses strength. I have no betrayed my words, I have learned the Warking tongue and learned my own, I know more of Warking society than any other Naerale, I have sat in their war councils and penned their letters ... That knowledge would give the rebellion a great deal of strength, but I do not believe the Naerale can defeat them, perhaps I have betrayed your cause, but I have survived where others have perished ... You may believe your death is greater than being dishonoured, but I am not a warrior, I have never been and with my weakness, I never will be." she clenched her hands into fists, "But I have never betrayed my words"

Talika turned away to join Rowan, since he still wished to use her for her scribe duties, at least she was in familiar company, even if it wasn't particularly friendly, it was more than she could say for Ardeyn who, only moments before, had witnessed his brothers-in-arms' executions. She quickly made her way to the Captains quarters under Rowan's direction and bowed respectfully once they reached their destination.


Ardeyn glared at Myles, but without a common language between them, he wouldn't bother wasting his breath. He scanned the man head to toe with a sharp purple gaze before glancing out to the sea. It wasn't a sea that belonged to his people and he doubted he'd find himself on familiar shores soon.