The Voyage

Member created stories, poems, & other creative work.
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Mikayla
Valsharess of ALFA
Posts: 3707
Joined: Sat Jan 03, 2004 5:37 pm
Location: Qu'ellar Faen Tlabbar, Noble Room 7, Menzoberranzan, NorthUnderdark

The Voyage

Post by Mikayla »

Author's Note: Layla's last journal was lost at sea, much like her first journal which was lost in the River Rauvin. She currently does not have a journal and is not likely to be keeping one without quill, ink or parchment, so, here then instead is just the tale of her voyage.

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The Voyage

Chapter 1: The Lively Pup


Layla felt a tentacle wrap around her leg. It was impossibly strong, and it quickly pulled her beneath the sea. She had barely been keeping her head above water as it was. The sea was roiling with the 15’ waves that had capsized The Lively Pup. A bolt of lightning had struck the main-mast splitting it down the middle. With the sails down, the Pup turned broadside in a trough, and when the next wave struck amidships, the Pup rolled over. Layla had scrambled over the side of the doomed vessel, dropped into the churning sea, and struggled to get clear of the wreck. Just breathing was hard; the rain and the spray blurred the line between the surface and the air. And now, a tentacle had wrapped around her leg and was pulling her down into the depths. Layla bent at the waist and looked down at the monster beneath the waves. Darkness and debris obscured all detail, but Layla could see that it was huge. She drew her remaining long-knife from its sheath and screamed at Umberlee in her mind; Let go of me you fucking bitch!

Several Days Earlier...

The journey to Calimport had been long but uneventful. In Waterdeep, Layla had found a fat merchant-man to crew on and made her way down to the city of Memnon. From Memnon, she sold her skills as a scout and archer to join a caravan travelling across the peninsula to Calimport. She walked through the dusty north-gate and traversed from the trade-road to the city-proper. Domed palaces and minarets spread out before her, bedecked in mosaics of thousands of colors, separated and yet connected by the walls and walkways of the drudachs, sabbans and wards. The City of Glory was unlike any other city to the eye, at least as far was Layla was concerned. There was nothing like it anywhere else, and it was just as vibrant, loud and pungent, as she remembered. She felt the hot southern sun on her face and smiled. This heat, though, was stifling. Had it always been this hot? She must have spent too many years in the cold northern lands. Still, it was good to be back.

She wandered through the streets, occasionally sampling long-since forgotten delicacies not found in the cold savage lands of the north. She could not help but smile. Gone was the fear and the anger that had gripped her when last her feet trod these paths. Now, she was no one, and no one has no one to fear.

There was no rush to her business. She found a non-descript room near the docks and treated herself to wine, lamb, rice and dates, and then a bath. As the night drew dark, she sat on a roof a listened to the music rising up from the streets and she pondered memories of family and childhood made warmer by the long passage of years.

On her second day she sought out her grand-father’s contact. She found him in a bar near the port, plying his trade as a hemmer of robes.

“Might you be Taqi ud-Din?” Layla asked the plain looking man.

“I am indeed,” he answered, “how might I serve you this day?”

“I am told you can hem a garment?” She held her elven-cloak out for inspection. It needed no hemming of course, that was but a ruse.

“The finest work in all of Calimport,” the man said, “and the finest prices as well.”

“I saw a goose today, lay down with a fox.” Layla replied, lowering her cloak.

“Come,” he said, gesturing to a table, “let us sit and discuss the work.” She followed and they sat.

“You understand of course that I do not compromise on quality.” He said, his eyes sharp and observant.

“Naturally.” Layla replied with a nod. “I suspect it is why you were recommended.” Her grand-father would not employ assassins who were not the best available.

“Good, very good,” Taqi answered. “Is it just the one garment you need taken care of?”

And here is where we start pushing things. Layla thought to herself.

“There is a long term need.” Layla said slowly. “I would learn to hem myself actually. I believe the idea was that I might apprentice in your skills.”

“You must meet the one who taught me then,” Taqi explained, “and petition him directly. It will require travel.”

And so on the morrow, Layla yr Ibrahim yn Dawoud Al-Taorahl, now traveling by the name Amira Al-Bahr, boarded a dhow called The Lively Pup on a voyage to meet the Grandmaster of Assassins. Layla's goal was simple; she wished to free her family. The path to that goal was a bit more complicated, but her grand-father still had his knowledge of connections and resources. Taqi was one of those connections. Now, Layla intended to study with the Hashashim, the assassins, learn what she could, and then use that knowledge to undo what the usurper Hisham had done to her family. Layla’s conversation with the bedine sorceress Layali in the Moonshae Isles had convinced Layla that a direct confrontation with Hisham was likely suicide. A more subtle, finessed approach was needed. So, Layla would train and observe. Eventually, she would seek an opportunity to obtain Hisham’s brass-lantern, and hopefully use it to undo what Hisham had done thus freeing her family. This was Layla’s plan.

Unfortunately, it seemed Umberlee and fate had other plans entirely …

To be continued.
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha
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