Númenórean Blood Runs Black RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Arry · 01-11-2006, 01:31 PM

Curiouser and curiouser . . . Bahir’s eyes narrowed as he made his way from the rowing galley hatchway across the top-deck. He was bound for his perch on the main mast, having been given instructions by one of the mates that the tear in the topsail needed repair. What’s this? An unfamiliar set of legs and raggedy clothes was just disappearing around the corner of the captain’s quarters. And where had he glimpsed those sweat hardened clothes? Just recently, he thought.

The man on the stairs . . . yes, that was a possibility. One of the rowers had slipped his shackles off, somehow. Brave little mouse – to play so dangerous a game while the Cat was away. Bahir’s brows rose; he gave a half smile. But then who was he to condemn another’s . . . adventure? And perhaps he could turn the man’s intentions to his own use.

Bahir shouldered a small cask from one of the lashed piles on the deck. For all intents and purposes he looked the part of someone delivering something somewhere as ordered. His head was down and he trudged along . . . just Boy, on some errand, they would think.

He slipped into the shadows afforded by the overhanging eaves of the captain’s cabin and sat down the cask he carried. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, his eyes darting about for any who might be watching. Assuring himself there were none, he darted around the edge of the cabin, just in time to see the man he was following, standing before the captain’s door. The man grimaced as he gazed at the locked entry way.

And did he think that the great Corsair ship’s master would leave his door open for all to visit as they wished?

A multitude of thoughts scrambled in the young man’s head. He could turn this to his advantage and be rid of the one token of his trespass. Bahir stepped forward, making a small sound so as to draw the man’s attention. He looked carefully at the fellow and then at the door. From a fold in his turban, he pulled out the key he had so recently used. And bending down, he slid it in a quick motion toward the man.

It clattered over the wooden decking coming to stop at the man’s feet. Bahir rose up and nodded toward the door, his face breaking into a conspiratorial smile. ‘Friend . . .’ he whispered, he eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘Good hunting!’

He did not stay to see what the man had planned. He did not wish to know. Bahir hurried back to where he’d left his little barrel and carried it with him to the main mast, leaving it there as he climbed nimbly up pole and onto the riggings at the top.

dancing spawn of ungoliant · 01-11-2006, 01:40 PM

"Good hunting!"

A key laid at Jagar's feet and as he dumbfounded stooped to pick it up, the boy who had tossed it had already gone off. There might have been something behind the sudden kindness of the stranger, but Jagar decided to worry about it later when he had completed his mischief. Jagar turned the key in the lock opening the door, stepped over the threshold and entered a room that was furnished with beautiful cloths and maps. There was a dark wooden table and a bed covered with soft cushions; it was the finest room Jagar had ever seen and he closed his eyes and let his fingers slide through the long pile of a shag rug. He paced across the room to a small cabinet and opened it revealing a more or less dusty collection of bottles full of liquor. "Perfect", Jagar whispered and took two bottles out of the cabinet, arranged the remaining bottles so that his thievery wouldn't be easily noticed and turned around to return to the bare and dim slave deck while his good luck lasted.

Jagar gave a final longing look around the luxurious room and as his gaze swept over the pillows on the bed, he let out a muffled cry and one of his liquor bottles slipped out of his grasp and fell on the floor shattering into pieces. There was someone lying under the heap of cushions. It looked like a blonde boy had been slumbering holding a bottle of spirits in his hand, but there was something odd about it; the boy hadn't even moved despite all the noise Jagar had made. For a moment Jagar held his breath staring at the boy, took a few steps toward the bed and burst out laughing. He saw that the boy had a glazed look in his open eyes and a bluish streak on his neck. "You really got scared over a dead body? Dead men don't rat on you", Jagar chuckled as he tucked the bottle he had left under his rugged shirt. The plank floor was sticky with liquor, but it didn't matter. A nice little riddle for the Lords to solve. Jagar walked out of the room, locked the door behind him and returned back to the slave deck humming cheerfully.

"For the old man is awaiting to carry you to freedom if you follow the Drinking Gourd."

01-11-2006, 01:31 PM	#1
Arry Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Posts: 704	Curiouser and curiouser . . . Bahir’s eyes narrowed as he made his way from the rowing galley hatchway across the top-deck. He was bound for his perch on the main mast, having been given instructions by one of the mates that the tear in the topsail needed repair. What’s this? An unfamiliar set of legs and raggedy clothes was just disappearing around the corner of the captain’s quarters. And where had he glimpsed those sweat hardened clothes? Just recently, he thought. The man on the stairs . . . yes, that was a possibility. One of the rowers had slipped his shackles off, somehow. Brave little mouse – to play so dangerous a game while the Cat was away. Bahir’s brows rose; he gave a half smile. But then who was he to condemn another’s . . . adventure? And perhaps he could turn the man’s intentions to his own use. Bahir shouldered a small cask from one of the lashed piles on the deck. For all intents and purposes he looked the part of someone delivering something somewhere as ordered. His head was down and he trudged along . . . just Boy, on some errand, they would think. He slipped into the shadows afforded by the overhanging eaves of the captain’s cabin and sat down the cask he carried. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, his eyes darting about for any who might be watching. Assuring himself there were none, he darted around the edge of the cabin, just in time to see the man he was following, standing before the captain’s door. The man grimaced as he gazed at the locked entry way. And did he think that the great Corsair ship’s master would leave his door open for all to visit as they wished? A multitude of thoughts scrambled in the young man’s head. He could turn this to his advantage and be rid of the one token of his trespass. Bahir stepped forward, making a small sound so as to draw the man’s attention. He looked carefully at the fellow and then at the door. From a fold in his turban, he pulled out the key he had so recently used. And bending down, he slid it in a quick motion toward the man. It clattered over the wooden decking coming to stop at the man’s feet. Bahir rose up and nodded toward the door, his face breaking into a conspiratorial smile. ‘Friend . . .’ he whispered, he eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘Good hunting!’ He did not stay to see what the man had planned. He did not wish to know. Bahir hurried back to where he’d left his little barrel and carried it with him to the main mast, leaving it there as he climbed nimbly up pole and onto the riggings at the top. Last edited by Arry; 01-11-2006 at 02:51 PM.

01-11-2006, 01:40 PM	#2
dancing spawn of ungoliant Mischievous Candle Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: So near to Russia, so far from Japan, quite a long way from Cairo, lots of miles from Vietnam. Posts: 1,234	"Good hunting!" A key laid at Jagar's feet and as he dumbfounded stooped to pick it up, the boy who had tossed it had already gone off. There might have been something behind the sudden kindness of the stranger, but Jagar decided to worry about it later when he had completed his mischief. Jagar turned the key in the lock opening the door, stepped over the threshold and entered a room that was furnished with beautiful cloths and maps. There was a dark wooden table and a bed covered with soft cushions; it was the finest room Jagar had ever seen and he closed his eyes and let his fingers slide through the long pile of a shag rug. He paced across the room to a small cabinet and opened it revealing a more or less dusty collection of bottles full of liquor. "Perfect", Jagar whispered and took two bottles out of the cabinet, arranged the remaining bottles so that his thievery wouldn't be easily noticed and turned around to return to the bare and dim slave deck while his good luck lasted. Jagar gave a final longing look around the luxurious room and as his gaze swept over the pillows on the bed, he let out a muffled cry and one of his liquor bottles slipped out of his grasp and fell on the floor shattering into pieces. There was someone lying under the heap of cushions. It looked like a blonde boy had been slumbering holding a bottle of spirits in his hand, but there was something odd about it; the boy hadn't even moved despite all the noise Jagar had made. For a moment Jagar held his breath staring at the boy, took a few steps toward the bed and burst out laughing. He saw that the boy had a glazed look in his open eyes and a bluish streak on his neck. "You really got scared over a dead body? Dead men don't rat on you", Jagar chuckled as he tucked the bottle he had left under his rugged shirt. The plank floor was sticky with liquor, but it didn't matter. A nice little riddle for the Lords to solve. Jagar walked out of the room, locked the door behind him and returned back to the slave deck humming cheerfully. "For the old man is awaiting to carry you to freedom if you follow the Drinking Gourd." Last edited by dancing spawn of ungoliant; 01-12-2006 at 06:33 AM.