The winter wind whipped the Sea of Swords into a frenzy of white spray, obscuring all sight beyond a few paces from Malcer Angalstrand’s vantage point. He was slouched in a nook off of a small alley near the docks of Luskan. How many years ago was it that he as a child of no more than ten winters had stood in this very spot ? How long since waiting with the other urchins, awaiting an easy mark for pickpocket or perhaps the rare generous traveler from the Southlands who might show compassion to the street children and quickly throw a half loaf of old bread as he made his way by?
Malcer was suddenly awash in the memories of his unpleasant youth. Despite his heavy cloak, gloves, and a minor enchantment to guard him from the bitter chill, he could not stifle the shiver that took hold of him as his thoughts drifted back to a day some twenty years past …………
The boy wakened with a chill before the dawn alongside the woman who had cared for him since the death of his mother so long ago that Malcer could not picture her face. The single room next to the blacksmith was decrepit and cold. Being only middle autumn, his autn Kulsa had not yet felt it prudent purchase any coal for the tiny stove that heated the place. It would be a long winter and coal was expensive. Heat in the fall was a luxury the two could not afford.
Aunt Kulsa would soon rise as well and start her long day as a servant for master Ingorty, the smith. Malcer had his own work to do though. Rail thin and dirty, the boy donned his ragged cloak and hurried off in the predawn gray down to the docks. Some of the urchins were already gathered in their usual spot as Malcer walked along the dirty pier to the small twisting alley. The docks would be seing the last of the season’s ships disembark at the City of Sails. Soon the ice would floe on the Sea of Swords and there would be few more easy opportunites for picking a pocket or begging a coin from travelers arriving by ship.
Malcer was the first to notice the man coming off the gangway. A strange sight it was, this foppish, dandy noble dressed all in purple trying not to soil his soft leather boots as he walked the thin planks onto the pier. Malcer Angalstrand was not the only child to know that this man would make a prime, but he was the first to rush forward out of the alley to be sure to be close to the dainty fellow. A small pack of urchins followed not far behind, each with similar intent.
He was within two paces of the noble when he heard the man chuckle dismissively and mutter something about rats while reaching into his pocket. From it the noble pulled a small gem and tossed it behind him into the oncoming group of children, the glint of red catching some light making Malcer’s eyes go wide…… It came right toward him. Even as his hands reached out his mind raced with possibilities. The coin from this stone could feed himself and his aunt for most of the winter. Perhaps they might even afford some extra coal for the stove …….
He caught the crimson gem, tightly closing his small hands around it. He ran to the end of the pier with the plan of immediately heading for home, trying to make distance between himself and the pack of children.
Malcer was quick, and within a few moments had broken free from sight of the other urchins, turning quicly down one of the narrow, winding alleys of dockside Luskan. The boy crossed a small street and turned into another alley that many of the urchin children used to avoid being seen as they made their way though town.
Suddenly, into his path stepped Fulin Chelsea, a stocky, pock faced orphan who at age 13 was already the leader of a small group of young thugs. Two other boys stood behind Fulin. The youth must have witnessed the events on the pier because the older boy fell upon Malcer immediately, striking him with a piece or hefty wooden plank. After a few moments, one of the blows landed on hard on his face, drawing a flow of blood and knocking young Malcer to the ground.
As Malcer fell, his grip on the gem failed. He could hear the coarse chuckle of Fulin Chelsea as the thick child reached down next to Malcer and picked up the red stone. Malcer’s eyes were tearing but filled with hate as one more blow landed across his back, pushing the wind from his lungs and landing him face down in a mix of garbage and slush. Malcer Angalstrand struggled to rise to his feat, but could not summon the strength to do so. All the boy could do was watch helplessly as the other young thug strode away chuckling coarsely.
Fulin Chelsea was laughing as he tucked the gem into his pocket. He had the broad smile that only came with a perceived great victory………..he could never have known that he was about to live the last day of his life ………..
______________________________________
As night fell over the Sword Coast port city, Malcer Angalstrand returned home, bruised and bloodied and reeking of filth of the sewer. Wordlessly he entered Master Ingorty’s blacksmith shop and sneaked up to his work bench. The boy picked up a heavy mallet hammer from the table and quickly left back outside. He spent that night out in the windswept alleyway, the cold wind biting through his thin coat, though Malcer felt it little. He was still and silent, dried blood now frozen on his face. Just as dawn arrived, as Malcer had hoped, Fulin walked into the alley on his way to the docks.
As the stocky boy passed by Malcer Angalstrand, much younger and smaller than Fulin, stepped up from behind and landed a blow with the hammer squarely onto his head. There was a sickening crack of bone as the larger boy fell to the ground. He was likely dead from the first blow, but some twenty more strikes beat Fulin Chelsea’s face into an unrecognizable mess of blood and fragmented bone.
Malcer looked at boy for the just a moment before rifling his pockets and retrieving the red gem. It took all the strength he had to drag the dead lad unnoticed to the end of the pier and toss him into the violent waters never to be seen again……....
Remembrances from the City of Sails
-
dergon darkhelm
- Fionn In Disguise
- Posts: 4258
- Joined: Fri Jul 08, 2005 1:21 pm
- Location: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
Remembrances from the City of Sails
PCs: NWN1: Trailyn "Wayfarer" Krast, Nashkel hayseed
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1
Re: Remembrances from the City of Sails
Nice.
But don't be hasty...dergon darkhelm wrote:...never to be seen again...
-
dergon darkhelm
- Fionn In Disguise
- Posts: 4258
- Joined: Fri Jul 08, 2005 1:21 pm
- Location: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
4 years later..........DR 1357, Midwinter Holiday.......Luskan
The last few winters had been better........not great by any reckoning of folk born to families accustomed to food in their bellies and warmth of home. But for the young urchin, now in his teens, a residence not rat infested and a small shack that helped at least to keep out the worst of the winter wind, seemed a noble's life.
The lanterns brought a warm glow to the room, matched by the heat coming from the stove. The Midwinter meal infront of the teenage boy and older woman was a feast nearly fit for a merchant and his family.
Aunt Kulsa looked at the young lad, still smaller than most boys his age, as she cut the meat off of the bones of the side of venison that Malcer had purchased for their Holiday meal. She wondered, as she had many times afore, where the gold had come from to pay for such a luxury. She wondered........ but knew better than to ask. The hardened look the boy's face had taken over the last seasons was telling enough.
They both knew that such coin could never come from working on the docks as the youth claimed. Even if he could have found employment competing against men who were members of the guilds and much stronger, he could never have afforded the new iron stove with plenty of coal, the whale oil for the waterdavian lanterns that brought the warm glow to the house, nor the heavy wool blankets that now hung on the walls and padded their beds on a dockworkers wages. Malcer had taken another path.
_____________________________
Most of the boys from the street had come to fear and respect young Malcer. Though not physically strong, his patience, hard determination, and intense will for revenge against even the smallest slight made him one to avoid if possible, and certainly not to anger if he could not be avoided.
While isolating the boy, this provided Malcer the opportunity to work alone and unseen in the tight alleyways of Luskan. The lad had learned quickly to prey only upon foreigners. The travellers arriving by ship were likely to be transients without family in the area, and the Luskan guard showed little interest in investigating disappearances of unimportant non-citizen of The City of Sails.
The young Angalstrand learned to watch and wait for an easy mark. A drunk and fattened merchant from Baldur's Gate leaving the brothel in the midnight hours, a braggart pirate who spoke too openly of the gold he had plundered just before passing out from drink in the gutter near The Cutlass, even a young half-elven travelling minstrel who took too little care making her way through the city after dusk and made her final small mistake by turning the wrong direction into a darkened and empty narrow alley as Malcer followed.
As of these folk were fools who deserved their fate. And, with Aunt Kulsa seeming to be pleased with their upward move in life, Malcer felt little more than a twinge of guilt as his victims fell to a quick dagger through the liver or a garrotte around the neck.
_____________________________
Finishing their dinner, Aunt Kulsa tossed the carcass of the cooked deer well away from their door and into the snowcovered street . Stray dogs and rats quickly descended on the bones raising a cacaphonous din that blended into the cold howling wind outside.
Aunt Kulsa turned and saw that Malcer had donned his heavy black, hooded cloak and laced his padded woolen boots.
"Going to work this night?" she asked casually, as if the docks were somehow unloading ships at midnight on midwinter.
Malcer Angalstrand simply nodded and brushed by his aunt as he slipped away into the dark of the Luskan streets.
The last few winters had been better........not great by any reckoning of folk born to families accustomed to food in their bellies and warmth of home. But for the young urchin, now in his teens, a residence not rat infested and a small shack that helped at least to keep out the worst of the winter wind, seemed a noble's life.
The lanterns brought a warm glow to the room, matched by the heat coming from the stove. The Midwinter meal infront of the teenage boy and older woman was a feast nearly fit for a merchant and his family.
Aunt Kulsa looked at the young lad, still smaller than most boys his age, as she cut the meat off of the bones of the side of venison that Malcer had purchased for their Holiday meal. She wondered, as she had many times afore, where the gold had come from to pay for such a luxury. She wondered........ but knew better than to ask. The hardened look the boy's face had taken over the last seasons was telling enough.
They both knew that such coin could never come from working on the docks as the youth claimed. Even if he could have found employment competing against men who were members of the guilds and much stronger, he could never have afforded the new iron stove with plenty of coal, the whale oil for the waterdavian lanterns that brought the warm glow to the house, nor the heavy wool blankets that now hung on the walls and padded their beds on a dockworkers wages. Malcer had taken another path.
_____________________________
Most of the boys from the street had come to fear and respect young Malcer. Though not physically strong, his patience, hard determination, and intense will for revenge against even the smallest slight made him one to avoid if possible, and certainly not to anger if he could not be avoided.
While isolating the boy, this provided Malcer the opportunity to work alone and unseen in the tight alleyways of Luskan. The lad had learned quickly to prey only upon foreigners. The travellers arriving by ship were likely to be transients without family in the area, and the Luskan guard showed little interest in investigating disappearances of unimportant non-citizen of The City of Sails.
The young Angalstrand learned to watch and wait for an easy mark. A drunk and fattened merchant from Baldur's Gate leaving the brothel in the midnight hours, a braggart pirate who spoke too openly of the gold he had plundered just before passing out from drink in the gutter near The Cutlass, even a young half-elven travelling minstrel who took too little care making her way through the city after dusk and made her final small mistake by turning the wrong direction into a darkened and empty narrow alley as Malcer followed.
As of these folk were fools who deserved their fate. And, with Aunt Kulsa seeming to be pleased with their upward move in life, Malcer felt little more than a twinge of guilt as his victims fell to a quick dagger through the liver or a garrotte around the neck.
_____________________________
Finishing their dinner, Aunt Kulsa tossed the carcass of the cooked deer well away from their door and into the snowcovered street . Stray dogs and rats quickly descended on the bones raising a cacaphonous din that blended into the cold howling wind outside.
Aunt Kulsa turned and saw that Malcer had donned his heavy black, hooded cloak and laced his padded woolen boots.
"Going to work this night?" she asked casually, as if the docks were somehow unloading ships at midnight on midwinter.
Malcer Angalstrand simply nodded and brushed by his aunt as he slipped away into the dark of the Luskan streets.
PCs: NWN1: Trailyn "Wayfarer" Krast, Nashkel hayseed
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1
-
dergon darkhelm
- Fionn In Disguise
- Posts: 4258
- Joined: Fri Jul 08, 2005 1:21 pm
- Location: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
Autumn DR 1362
Pakin Harriter was fat......although no one in his crew of underlings and henchmen would ever have dared speak it so above a mutter well away from prying ears. The men knew that to voice such a sentiment would be perhaps the last utterance they made against the powerful boss of the notorius Grey Axes guild of Luskan.
Harriter sat in his usual seat at the Seven Sails Inn, the one with a good view of the doorway through the one window near the front of the building, eating a huge venison steak drenched in gravy. He and his four men drank and ate and talked, as the boss watched the cold rain come down hard on the cobbled street outside.
The rotund man had just finished his meal and setting into a full pipe when he noticed a commotion growing on the street outside. Raising his bulk to move toward the window for a better vantage, Pakin noticed a small, dark robed young man surrounded by three others all larger in size and older.
“Give us the pouch, Angalstrand” the biggest of the men said in a tone knowing that diplomacy was not going to take hold. The smaller youth spat out toward the man and raised a small dagger menacingly.
“Come on now. There are three of us. It’s only 20 crown, Malcer. You don’t wish to lose your life for 20 crown, do you?” Malcer spit again, this time splattering the face of the man with foamy spittle…………..diplomacy was definitely no longer an option.
The men set in cautiously for Malcer, each raising crude clubs crafted of nailed docking planks. The young rogue struck first, opening a large gash in the forearm of one of the thugs. As a reward for his successful blow, a plank landed hard on his neck from behind, sending the wind from his lungs and forcing him to stagger forward. Recovering his footing, Malcer laid open another thug’s face with a long gash from his dagger. This time two blows fell from the clubs in return.
Pakin Harriter watched with some fascination from inside the Seven Sails as the fight progressed. The bout went poorly for young Malcer in the end, the three men eventually winning out, the decisive blow being one that brought full contact to the left side of Malcer’s cheek that would leave him partially paralyzed and with a scar he carries to this day. Two of the thugs were wounded grievously as well and generous amounts of fresh blood washed away with the heavy rain.
The crime boss simply made a slight smile and gestured to one of his men. “Run off those three………….and bring the young one back to the house after he’s cleaned and bandaged.” The henchman simply nodded, not even thinking to question what Pakin Harriter would want with some half dead street urchin.
Malcer had fallen into unconsciousness by the time the men came out from the tavern and chased off his attackers. Had he been awake he might have had a chance to notice the fiendish, plotting look that crossed the eyes of his soon-to-be mentor as the boss silently fidgeted with an amulet worn deep beneath his tunic as he was carried away into the Luskan night.
Pakin Harriter was fat......although no one in his crew of underlings and henchmen would ever have dared speak it so above a mutter well away from prying ears. The men knew that to voice such a sentiment would be perhaps the last utterance they made against the powerful boss of the notorius Grey Axes guild of Luskan.
Harriter sat in his usual seat at the Seven Sails Inn, the one with a good view of the doorway through the one window near the front of the building, eating a huge venison steak drenched in gravy. He and his four men drank and ate and talked, as the boss watched the cold rain come down hard on the cobbled street outside.
The rotund man had just finished his meal and setting into a full pipe when he noticed a commotion growing on the street outside. Raising his bulk to move toward the window for a better vantage, Pakin noticed a small, dark robed young man surrounded by three others all larger in size and older.
“Give us the pouch, Angalstrand” the biggest of the men said in a tone knowing that diplomacy was not going to take hold. The smaller youth spat out toward the man and raised a small dagger menacingly.
“Come on now. There are three of us. It’s only 20 crown, Malcer. You don’t wish to lose your life for 20 crown, do you?” Malcer spit again, this time splattering the face of the man with foamy spittle…………..diplomacy was definitely no longer an option.
The men set in cautiously for Malcer, each raising crude clubs crafted of nailed docking planks. The young rogue struck first, opening a large gash in the forearm of one of the thugs. As a reward for his successful blow, a plank landed hard on his neck from behind, sending the wind from his lungs and forcing him to stagger forward. Recovering his footing, Malcer laid open another thug’s face with a long gash from his dagger. This time two blows fell from the clubs in return.
Pakin Harriter watched with some fascination from inside the Seven Sails as the fight progressed. The bout went poorly for young Malcer in the end, the three men eventually winning out, the decisive blow being one that brought full contact to the left side of Malcer’s cheek that would leave him partially paralyzed and with a scar he carries to this day. Two of the thugs were wounded grievously as well and generous amounts of fresh blood washed away with the heavy rain.
The crime boss simply made a slight smile and gestured to one of his men. “Run off those three………….and bring the young one back to the house after he’s cleaned and bandaged.” The henchman simply nodded, not even thinking to question what Pakin Harriter would want with some half dead street urchin.
Malcer had fallen into unconsciousness by the time the men came out from the tavern and chased off his attackers. Had he been awake he might have had a chance to notice the fiendish, plotting look that crossed the eyes of his soon-to-be mentor as the boss silently fidgeted with an amulet worn deep beneath his tunic as he was carried away into the Luskan night.
PCs: NWN1: Trailyn "Wayfarer" Krast, Nashkel hayseed
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1
NWN2: ??
gsid: merado_1