001 - Penritch Arrives at Fort Reclamation

[todd]

For the better part of two months, you sat aboard The Sea Eagle, treated barely better than cargo by the sailors manning the large cog as at navigated eastward over the featureless sea.



The journey was uneventful, save for the "Crossing of the Divide", so called by the sailing men because, upon passing some invisible divisor, the sky turns strange-- some familiar stars appear to have moved positions, others vanished, while new and different stars display themselves in the night sky. Some of the sailors mutter prayers to Atum at the crossing but most go about their duties as normal, having made this crossing several times or more.



At length, a new land resolved itself against the horizon, growing day by day and hour by hour, until its length extended beyond sight: Novris at last.



In particular, the Sea Eagle angled for a bay, Azure Bay, named for the vibrant color of its shallow waters, protected mostly by a series of black rock protrusions. Upon the largest of these, the defensive settlement of Fort Reclamation could be finally be seen, flying the flag of Gulle from atop a ragged battlement.



As the cog entered the interior of the bay, some strange men could be seen lounging and diving from the rocks. These were, as the sailors called them, "Crusties"-- degenerate local natives, not much better than savages, if they were better at all. Their hair was the color of seaweed-- though whether naturally of that shade or dyed none could tell-- and they wore simple rough tunics dyed silver when they wore anything at all. They lived in the sea and in villages huddled about its shore-- fishing and diving for mollusks and shellfish.



Fort Reclamation's docks lay at the foot of the rocky outcropping upon which it sits. A wide road runs up a series of switchbacks cut into the rock itself up to the actual fortress. At the head of the docks, stand five gibbets. Three contain the bodies of some Crusties, two of Gwellan men. A painted sign beneath the gibbets reads, "Lawlessness will not be tolerated."



The cog finally smoothly glides to a stop at an empty quay and the sailors, some feigning over-courtesy, allow you to descend straightaway to land. A steady stream of men move to and fro along the docks and up the stone road. Heavy pulley cranes lift cargo onto and off of ships arriving or readying to disembark.



In your possession, you have a letter of introduction from your patron, Lord Saegrun, to the commander of the fort, Admiral Lord D'Aspray.

[Deleted]

Penritch, eager to land at the fort, feels a momentary clamminess in his hands at the sight of the gibbets, subconsciously pondering whether the trip was made in his better judgement. He never got along very well with figures of authority—having fled from creditors back home—and suddenly he feels as though he managed to escape the pot only to leap into the fire.

Standing on the quay, Penritch examines the letter of introduction, suddenly unsure of himself in this wild new world and the prospect of being sent before an admiral. Nevertheless, he musters up the bravado necessary, and begins the climb up the stone road until he reaches the fortress. To the guard he presents the letter of introductions, stating perhaps with an excess of confidence, 'I am Penritch, under patronage of Lard Saegrun. I have with me a letter of introduction to the Admiral Lord D'Aspray.'

[todd]

You move off the docks, past a cluster rude stalls at which a few Crusty fishermen sell fish, shellfish and mollusks, and other less recognizable sea creatures both raw and cooked over coals, and emerge at the head of the wide road that wends its way up the rock face to the fort proper.

It is obvious to you immediately that this road must be immensely old-- carved out of the living rock itself-- it is not only as smooth and polished as marble, you can mark where the face has been bowed in by the passage of innumerable feet and wagons that have moved along it.

Finally reaching the top of the cliff, the fort presents itself. It too must have been ancient, though ruined. It is easy to see the original old stonework and remains and where Gwellan hands have patched, bolstered, or rebuilt it with a combination of repurposed local stone and timbers.

A handful of soldiers stand at guard at the wide gate. You show them your letter and they wave you by, pointing you towards the inner citadel. Inside, you can see that the fort is more of a walled town than a fort proper. Stepping through the gate, you emerge into a wide open square, bordered on all sides by buildings of various sizes in different states of ruin or repair, small streets creep between them. At the far side of the square, another wall and gate form the entrance to the citadel.

In the middle of the square, a large number of people, both soldiers and free men kneel bowed in prayer, exhorted by a priest of the religious Order of the Golden Disc. To one side of the square, a group of soldiers stand together, noncommittally. Their livery, emblazoned with a large silver talon, sets them apart from the common men.

---

OOC: Sorry this is late. I spent the last week sick, first with fevers and then with strep throat. It was a fun time!

[Deleted]

Penritch scrunches his nose as he passes the stalls, having never cared greatly for the smell of fish. Once in the square he spends a moment watching the religious ceremony with detached interest, until the group of soldiers wearing the silver-taloned livery catch his eye.

He pats a nearby free man currently kneeling in prayer and points out the gang of soldiers. 'Well look there, what do you say to that? Who are they, and what's the livery they wear?'

[todd]

The man peers back in the direction of Penritch's gesture.

"You must be new here. Them's milord D'Aspray's personal officers and guards. Elites, he says of them, the best of the best." He shrugs. "Don't know much about their like, myself, and happy not to. I'd rather not be holding company with those poor buggers swinging down by the ships."

He stands up and stretches.

"Thank you, good sir, if only for interrupting my fervent prayers. Now I can get back to work."

With that, he ambles off out of sight.

[Deleted]

"Interesting," mutters Penritch to himself. "I suppose if anyone were to gain audience with D'Aspray, it would be through them." He loiters around for a bit until he can muster up the courage to interrupt their leisure. As he approaches he stretches tall and tries out his best nonchalant swagger. He gives a deep and officious nod of greeting when he catches the eye of one of them.

"Ho there, my pardons. I have here a letter for Lord D'Aspray, from milord Saegrun in Gulle. Where and how might I find audience with the Admiral?"

[todd]

A tall stern looking soldier separates himself from the others and steps up to you. His face is worn and hard and framed by a close-cropped square of gray hair above and a less ordered salt and pepper beard below. He looks you up and down and then squints at the letter in your hand. He grunts something and waves his hand.

Another soldier steps forward. This one is younger, his face softer and more open. His tunic bears a brown patch stitched onto the left shoulder. From time to time he tugs at it unconsciously. He smiles from beneath a mop of reddish-brown hair.

"I am Davain," he says. "I will take you to milord's offices."

He guides you around the throng of still kneeling worshippers towards the citadel gate.

"New arrival, eh?" he asks.

[Deleted]

Penritch warms up to a familiar face. "Yes, just off The Sea Eagle. The sailors weren't too keen to have me aboard, but suffered it well enough after my way was paid," he says, gesturing to the letter of introduction. He turns to the other and extends his hand. "Penritch. How long have you been in the Admiral's guard?"

[todd]

Davain clasps Penritch's hand.

"The Talon, you mean?" He plucks at the large silver talon emblazoned on his tunic. "Excuse me, the Argent Talon. Still getting used to it. I'm only recently joined. Just a recruit so far. Have not yet been through the initiation, the rites they call it. Not sure when that will be but, even as a Brown Patch, it beats being a regular. I was a regular before. I'm on my fourth month here."

He raises his head proudly. "I was with one of the very first ships."

The two of you reach the gate to the Citadel. With a nod to Davain, the sentries slide aside and you pass within. The walls of the Citadel are think and mottled with age. You pass into a courtyard where a few soldiers stand mustered. You can hear, but can't see, the familiar clink-clink of a smith's hammering. To one side of the courtyard is a stables. The smell of horses and hay wafts across the open space. On the other, you only get glimpses of rooms and chambers through open doors and slit-like windows. The smell of cooking mingles with the horse-smells as you pass.

Davain points to the far side of the Citadel where the main building stands, closed by a large set of wooden double-doors reinforced with iron. "Mi'lord's offices are there."

He leads you onwards towards the building.

[Deleted]

"Four months in, and already in the guard," says Penritch, clearly seeing himself in that position. "This really is the land of opportunity, isn't it."

He follows Davain through the courtyard and thanks him with a handshake when they reach the door to the admiral's offices. Eager to make friends, he sees in Davain a likeminded soul, a young man who knows what's what and will climb to the top, despite what those stodgy naysayers in charge say. "Thanks a heap, Davain, I'll see you around."

He starts to open the door, hesitates, then takes a step back and awkwardly knocks, trying his best to imitate the confident, in-charge posture he saw in Davain. If no one answers after a short while, he slowly opens the door and walks in, half-expecting to see the admiral sitting on the other side of the doorway.