The not-immortal Blacksmith

Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;

15th of Arah, Second month of Snow;

2125 years since the new gods came.

The loading of my trunk and sea bag was simple, as I arrived earlier than the rest of the passengers. My hammock was indeed hung near the crew's. Passage cost me less than I had expected. About 1/3 of the crew is D'Kin, and the rest are a mixture of other races. Unsurprisingly, there are no dwarves on the crew, and only one as a passenger. He is a merchant specializing in glassware, and very eager to get the voyage over with. I think more dwarves would sail, if they didn't sink like rocks, even without their standard chain shirts.

The rest of the passengers are a mix of humans, halfbloods, gnomes, and halflings. Only one Elf. I will probable avoid him so he doesn't get into trouble with his god. Idiots. Always getting in the way of people living their lives.

*-*-*

16th of Arah, evening,

The captains table was well set with silver utensils, fine china, and seating for nine. The cabin itself was beautifully appointed with lush carpets and cream colored draperies, to the point that you could almost forget that you were on a ship. The cabin boy ushered the guests in, as the captain stood and welcomed them to his cabin.

“Welcome to my humble abode! As you all know, I am Captain Wilson, and I have invited you to a taste of the sea! Tonight we dine on wild caught baked Crob with a citrus butter sauce, seasoned tubers from Demonia, preserved greens from northern Garthia, and a rich pudding for desert.” Captain Wilson beamed. “Now please, come and sit!”

Max, and the rest of the guests, all dressed in their dinner finery, sat down, and were soon served the salad course. Polite conversation abounded until the main course; which was a truly wonderful baked fish as far as Max was concerned; and pirates entered topic of discussion.

“Captain,” the lone elf, Mr. Oakgreen, said, “What are the chances of encountering pirates on this voyage?”

“Mr. Oakgreen, I generally discourage talk of pirates on this ship, but, as I am sure they are on everyone's mind, we are well defended against the bandits of the sea.” Captain Wilson said, “We have only been attacked once in our long history of service, and that was past the far eastern coast of Deepfalsia. We sank three of their ships before the rest turned tail and fled.”

“That doesn't actually answer the question.” A gnome, Mr Turnscrew, said.

“Very well,” replied Captain Wilson, “The chances are very small. This section of ocean is well patrolled by the three nations, and pirate attacks rarely happen. We are more likely to be hit by a raising whale that attacked by pirates.”

All present looked relieved at the pronouncement. More questions followed, most concerning the arrival day, and whether there would be any wildlife to observe. Conversation was gently steered to more “proper” topics by the captain, and the meal eventually came to a close.

“Master Smithson, a word?” Captain Wilson asked.

Max stopped at the door and turned, “But of course, Captain.”

“As a fellow seaman, I assume you can keep this under your hat, there were some reports of pirates plying the waters near Cavenfore. It is however, my opinion that they will have been driven off by the navies well before we arrive, as the reports were a few weeks old.” Captain Wilson said. “I do have a slight favor to ask?”

Max nodded.

“As the only passenger with actual shipboard experience, could you take charge of the passengers, if pirates should happen across us?” Captain Wilson asked. “They would be sitting ducks on the top deck.”

“That is something I can do; and don't worry sir, I can keep things under my cap.” Max responded, before turning to leave.

“”I appreciate it, Master Smithson.” Captain Wilson said as Max departed.

*-*-*

16th of Arah,

Dinner at the captains table was a wonderful affair. I will need to ask after the recipe from the cook when I run into him again. Pirates were brought up. I have never had to deal with them when I was in the fishing fleet. We were to small to be worth the time and effort. Out here may be a different matter.

The Captain has asked me to keep an eye on the passengers should pirates be spotted. It is something I can do to help, so I will.

17th of Arah,

We have kept within sight of the coast thus far. Both for navigational purposes and to reassure the passengers. At noon we rounded Rustfose Point, a large outcropping of rock that just out from a cliff face and makes the town of Rustfose a good lookout, but not a good point for a port. There is a small light tower on the outermost island to mark the edge of the shipping lane. 75 miles in a day is a fine speed. With better wind we would be faster.

I have not been invited back to the Captains table, but that doesn't bother me as I prefer the lower decks and the crew as company. The crew seems to like me, both because I actually know my way around a ship, and because I intentionally loose at most card games. A good way to make friends.

18th of Arah,

We passed within hailing distance of The Spirit of Garthia, the flagship of the navy. No new news of pirates. We will be at Swifthtown by midnight.

19th of Arah, Morning,

We will be in port at Swifthtown for two days. It has been ages since I was here. I wonder if the cathedral I borrowed from is still in operation?

*-*-*

The wind was cold as Max strode through town, looking at the changes since his last visit some 400 years before. The cafe he had loved was gone, and replaced with a fishmonger. He followed the cobbled streets until he reached the Cathedral's Gate, thus named for the Cathedral to the goddess he had stolen the “holy chalice” from.

As he approached, he was startled to see, or not see in this case, the milky towers of the Cathedral. As he passed through the gate, he saw why: the cathedral was in ruins. The towers down, the stained glass shattered, and artwork gone. In place of the cathedral was a small, humble chapel. It was unadorned, with nothing but an outside bell tower and sign to note what it actually was. The whole place, including the large and ancient graveyard was overgrown, and surrounded by a high wrought iron fence. More disturbing was that the graveyard showed signs of recent interments having been disturbed.

Max sighed, I probably should have returned this thing 400 years ago. I should never drink angry, pr bitter for that fact. As he approached the chapel, an old man dressed in the robes of tranquility, stepped out the door and made his way to great him. “I would be cautious around here, lad. There are ghouls afoot.”

“Really? The local lord or the church hasn't done anything?” Max asked, confusion crossing his face.

“No. They have decided it is a lost cause, and every so often they put up signs to warn the tourists.” The man answered.

“Well, then this should help some.” Max reached into his bag and withdrew the goddesses chalice of tranquility, “I, found this on my travels a while back.” He held out the chalice.

The old man fell to his knees as the chalice suddenly burst into cold white light that spread like wildfire across the grounds. “The Chalice! It has been returned to us!” and he began to openly weep.

“Um, well yeah.” Max said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I'll just put it down on this rock over here, and you take care of it. Okay?” He set the chalice down, hurriedly turned, and ran.

*-*-*

“That rat-faced, cuckold bastard!” Narissa screamed, startling Maximilian awake. He looked up at the viewing crystal just in time to see Maxwell running away from an old broken down church.

“What's wrong, love?” He asked.

What's wrong? What's WRONG?!?” Narissa took a deep breath, before exploding, “That me forsaken bastard is the one who stole my chalice! It took me ages to make that thing and imbue it with power! I will kill him!”

“Hmm, you mean that trinket you gave to the annoying priest who wanted to build a cathedral in...where was it?” Maximilian asked. “That took you maybe five minutes at most.”

“Whatever. Do you know how many adventurers and Heroes I have sent after that thing? Dozens!” Narissa yelled.

“So that is why it took a man to kill off the demon generals and all their supporters?” Maximilian asked.

“You shouldn't worry your pretty little head about things like that.” Narissa responded. “Sea god Aaroness still owes me a favor. I will ask him to sink that bastards ship.” She plucked a large conch shell from her dainty sleeve and spoke into it. “Aaroness, I am calling in my favor.”

A few moments later, with a gust of extra salty sea air, a man in a sailors uniform appeared. “What do you want to waste your favor on this time?”

“I never waste anything.” Narissa retorted. “I want a man, and his entire ship drowned.”

“What ship?” Aaroness asked, removing a scroll of ship names and locations from thin air.

“Maxwell Smithson, aboard the Mercy of the Waves.” Narissa said.

“You going after the Heretic again? Well, drowning may do the trick. At least until he gets washed up on shore.” Aaroness looked at his scroll. “Sorry, no can do Narissa. The Mercy is fully paid up in the tithes. Actually, after a run in with a pirate fleet a couple dozen years ago, he has given almost double the normal amount for someone in his income bracket. I can't risk that much for a petty insult.” Aaroness disappeared in another breeze of salty air.

“Worthless sea god. Fine. I'm going to hire a pirate crew to sink that ship.” A very spiteful Narissa announced.

Maximilian, sitting next to her on the love seat, just shook his head.

*-*-*

19th or Arah, Evening,

Went and returned the chalice I borrowed. The cleric looked like he was going to have a heart attack. With the way the place looked, and with the ghoul problem it's absence caused, I almost feel bad that I took it.

TTFN