Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

The Perfect Storm(inchhighfuy and Bellini)

inchhighguy

Planetoid
Joined
Nov 29, 2019
The sun hung low over Deep Water bay casting long shadows. The last couple of sunbeams would soon fade away to the darkness. In this near twilight, Pallas Morevine, made his way along the out edge of the docks. The docks of the sea side city Azolla were quite busy all day, but not now. Crews and workers both stopped working. The night watchers would be out soon to light the watch lights. Right now was the perfect time for Pallas, as the docks were mostly clear of people. Just as he planned.

Moving along the rows of stacked shipping crates, Pallas hoped that no one saw him. He had quite striking features and knew he stood out in a crowd. He was taller then most me, with a body of lean muscle. His face was clean shaven, and his blonde hair was cut short just above his neck. His skin was fair with a light tan, but had no flaws or blemishes. He had the look of much what he was, a nobleman who had never done a days hard work in his life. He was not dressed as a nobleman, far from it. His shirt, hat and pantaloons were simple gray colored garments. The same type you could by at many shops, just as Pallas did hours ago. His boots were fine leather, sturdy though not fancy and again were commoner work boots. His clothing had no buckles, buttons or other such finery. He was unarmed, save his small knife in his left boot. Though it was far more a utility blade, more for cutting an apple then a man. Lastly he had a small pouch of money, just thirty coins of gold. Enough to get him by for a bit.

The stacks of shipping crates prevented Pallas from seeing the ships on the other side, exactly as he wanted. He had not looked at the harbor log for days. He had no idea what ships were in the harbor at the time. It was all part of his plan to get on a random ship. He felt if he ran as part of a plan, he would be too easy to catch. A quick peek through a crack in a crate told him the ship next to him had just loaded chickens and pigs on to the deck. This was the ship he wanted. A ship only took on live animals right before departure. This ship would like leave the port at dawn. And that worked for Pallas.

With a burst of speed he ran across the plank to the ship and ducked down behind the ships sea wall. As he heard no shouting, he was sure enough no one saw him in the darkness. Staying low he slid over to the aft deck hatch and opened it. Below was a small hold filled with darkness. No light told him no one was in the hold, as he planned. He dropped into the hold like a seaman, though he was far from being a sailor, he had been on ships from the time he was a boy. From the small amount of fading light he could see he the hold had a wall of tools, lots of rope and several casks of water. Pallas pulled the hatch closed slowly. Then felt his way along the casks of water to the side bulkhead of the ship. Felling around he found a small space to sit in a ball. Sitting down he waited for what would come.....
 
Life on the sea... it was the only way to survive, as far as Helene was concerned. Then again, as far as most knew, Helene wasn't concerned about much; that name had been left behind years ago, what little reputation the woman had of her own had died along with her first husband, and was best left wasting away in the shallow grave she'd buried him in. One too many nights of drunken spats had led to the young woman snapping, waiting until he'd passed out face-first in his soup and not bothering to move his head from the deep bowl of liquid. Before anyone could come asking about him, she'd fled, cutting her hair to her shoulders and dressing as a man to earn her place on a pirate's sloop.

Over the years, the woman once known as Helene became a lackey named Henry, eventually becoming first-mate under the fearsome Emmett "Scurvy" Smithe. When it was discovered she was not Henry, but a woman, it hadn't slowed the old man down a bit, challenging any of his crew that took issue with it to duel the newly-dubbed "Harpy" on the top deck. Only one took him up on his offer, and he soon joined the crew of the ship they'd raided before dawn in a watery grave.

When the old man had finally passed, The Silent Assassin and her crew were all passed to Helene, and she ran the ship exactly as her mentor had: every man helped, and every man profited. It didn't matter who they were before, what they looked like, or what their abilities were; if they could work hard and stay out of legal trouble, they were welcome aboard the ship, and would have a bunk to rest their head in and a warm meal every night if nothing else.
Things were good... a little too good.

Docking in Azolla had been a last-minute decision; her first mate, an affable middle-aged man with a bushy auburn beard aptly named The Bear had begged for a taste of Azollan ale, leading them all to a well-deserved night at the local seaside tavern. They'd drank and told tales long into the evening, returning to the ship only hours before dawn. Immediately, Helene set to preparing the ship to return to the open ocean, setting course for the Isles of Tegoza in the Gulf of Glasvern. There were rumors that a gold coin from the infamous treasure of ol' Tide Turner had been sighted in the sands, and Helene intended to find out.

The next morning, Helene descended the ladder into the hold, intending to take inventory of the ship's water storage... when a stray boot, sticking out from behind the casks, caught her eye. Drawing her weapon, she snuck up on the stowaway, her blade at his throat as she kicked the sole of his boot to wake him.

"You've thirty seconds to state who you are and what you're doing aboard my ship."
 
Freedom. Pallas Morevine dreamed of freedom. The gentile rocking of the ship put him right to sleep. And his dreams were about freedom. For the first time in his life he had freedom. No worries about his life. No worries about his family. No worries about money. Freedom. This was the first day on his life on his own. All on his own. With the freedom to do whatever he wanted. He knew it would not be easy, even in his dreams. Though it was a challenge he looked forward too. He had the freedom to fail. The freedom to struggle. More freedom.

In his dreams he was on a sailing ship, standing on the bow. The sea wind and sea water both whirled around him. And he loved it. Freedom. He was master of his own ship at sea. In every way possible. Though his dream ship had no crew. His dream ship had no one at the helm. His dream ship did not even have a captain. In his dreams he was master of the ship, but even in his dreams he knew he was no captain. He was no helmsman. He was not even really much of a sailor. He could do most of the jobs on board a ship, but had little piratical experience doing so. Even in his dreams he knew this, and so his dream ship was empty. He knew a fair amount about trade and navigation, though maybe not as much as a ship navigator. As the stars came out, he stood on his ship of dreams and looked up at the sky. With the sextant that was now suddenly in his hands, he took some star readings. With the book and pen, that were both also suddenly in his hands, he marked down his readings. Looking down at his numbers, and looking up at the stars, he knew his life was now on the right course.

Morning came, though in the darkness of the hold Pallas had no way to tell time. He often awoke with the sun. That was on land, though where his sleeping body could feel that first zephyr of the morning. Where his ears could hear the first couple song birds that come out with the dawn. The dark hold of the ship had none of that. The thick wood of the hull, deck and bulkheads muffed all the sounds. And so he slept.

His dream ship traveled on his seas of dreams. Until something hit his boot in his dream. He fell off balance to the deck like a loose coil of rope. Maybe the ship hit a reef, he wondered? He slid a bit on the deck and one of the belying pins pressed up hard against his throat. And he could feel it against his skin. He felt the cold, hard and sharp metal. Confused, he wondered why wooden pin felt that way. It just did not make sense. Then, like a flash of lightning, he was no longer dreaming. He was awake, and in the hold of the ship he slipped onto yesterday. And he had a blade at his throat.

The question echoed in his ears.

"I'm Pallas Morevine. I mean no harm, no foul. I was just looking for a quick and quiet way out of the city, " he answered simply, blinking his eyes to wake them up.
 
Back
Top Bottom