07-01-2014, 07:45 AM
"Will that be everything you've got with you miss?" called a sailor rolling up the last keg up the plank.
Mittendri nodded and leaned on the side of the ship, looking over at the stone chimney of the forge that she'd called home for the past years that she'd been in Ravenna. The wagon stood next to it, still unfinished and the smelter that she had so endeavored to build hadn't seen as much use as she had expected of it. She remembered all the projects she had in mind, for the benefit of the town, or for her own enjoyment, but then she had to leave, and on such short notice as well.
The second letter had arrived a few days ago, and it had confirmed her worries and fears. She had been informed a few months ago of some news from the mainland, that the portals to the dusk realm had been reopened, and that her father was deathly ill.
The damned old man, she thought. The damned old man. It wasn't a terrible shock of course, he was well past his eighties, but then he had always looked such a giant of a man, tough as nails, and as jovial as he had been in his youth. She wondered what his last words had been, the letter had only contained her family mark, with an indication that the family head had passed on. She hoped that he had gone laughing, as he had always yelled when drunk. I'll go laughing! He had said, I'll go laughing, and you lot better be laughing as well! Then he would laugh his laugh, a steady booming laugh that reverberated like the sound of beating drums.
She shook her head; it wasn't like her to be brooding like this. She looked at the busy men working the ropes, and turned her gaze towards the dock. No one was there to see her off. Of course, she couldn't expect old Marty to be able to drag her shaking limbs over, and there was also that she had said goodbye to no one else. She hated goodbyes; there was a reason why she never said them. She looked over to the forest beyond the bridge and thought about Bandit. She was just getting to know the girl, a shame that she never got to learn about her crafts. Maybe next time. She had a sinking feeling that it would be a long long time before she got to come back to Ravenna, but she shook the thought out of her head. Hopefully the next smith will find the forge to his or her tastes.
"Weigh anchor!" shouted the captain. The ship slowly started moving, its white sails billowing in the harsh winter winds. She watched as the town grew smaller. There was no smoke rising from the forge; she had made sure to snuff the flames. She chuckled to herself, and with a last glance at the steep cliffs of the town, she left the deck.
Maybe I'll have some rum.
There we go, Mitty has officially left the setting. When she will come back, or if she will come back at all, who knows. In truth she was supposed to have left earlier, but those that have seen my miserable attempts to stay on the server for more than fleeting minutes will know why it took so long.
She will be joined by the twins and our favorite pirate family on her way back, and they'll have a gay old time dealing with funerals and new chief choosings and bunch of contracts from wary armies. Yay.
Mittendri nodded and leaned on the side of the ship, looking over at the stone chimney of the forge that she'd called home for the past years that she'd been in Ravenna. The wagon stood next to it, still unfinished and the smelter that she had so endeavored to build hadn't seen as much use as she had expected of it. She remembered all the projects she had in mind, for the benefit of the town, or for her own enjoyment, but then she had to leave, and on such short notice as well.
The second letter had arrived a few days ago, and it had confirmed her worries and fears. She had been informed a few months ago of some news from the mainland, that the portals to the dusk realm had been reopened, and that her father was deathly ill.
The damned old man, she thought. The damned old man. It wasn't a terrible shock of course, he was well past his eighties, but then he had always looked such a giant of a man, tough as nails, and as jovial as he had been in his youth. She wondered what his last words had been, the letter had only contained her family mark, with an indication that the family head had passed on. She hoped that he had gone laughing, as he had always yelled when drunk. I'll go laughing! He had said, I'll go laughing, and you lot better be laughing as well! Then he would laugh his laugh, a steady booming laugh that reverberated like the sound of beating drums.
She shook her head; it wasn't like her to be brooding like this. She looked at the busy men working the ropes, and turned her gaze towards the dock. No one was there to see her off. Of course, she couldn't expect old Marty to be able to drag her shaking limbs over, and there was also that she had said goodbye to no one else. She hated goodbyes; there was a reason why she never said them. She looked over to the forest beyond the bridge and thought about Bandit. She was just getting to know the girl, a shame that she never got to learn about her crafts. Maybe next time. She had a sinking feeling that it would be a long long time before she got to come back to Ravenna, but she shook the thought out of her head. Hopefully the next smith will find the forge to his or her tastes.
"Weigh anchor!" shouted the captain. The ship slowly started moving, its white sails billowing in the harsh winter winds. She watched as the town grew smaller. There was no smoke rising from the forge; she had made sure to snuff the flames. She chuckled to herself, and with a last glance at the steep cliffs of the town, she left the deck.
Maybe I'll have some rum.
There we go, Mitty has officially left the setting. When she will come back, or if she will come back at all, who knows. In truth she was supposed to have left earlier, but those that have seen my miserable attempts to stay on the server for more than fleeting minutes will know why it took so long.
She will be joined by the twins and our favorite pirate family on her way back, and they'll have a gay old time dealing with funerals and new chief choosings and bunch of contracts from wary armies. Yay.