The Expedition Returns

[Stevie 1598]

It was a misty morning. The cog that sailed smoothly along the coastline was barely in sight, but its emblazoned red sails with a magnificent white rose could be seen cutting through the mist. Although misty and cold, the morning was surprisingly calm, and most of the ship's crew were beginning to meander about the upper deck; their duties calling them. At one side of the boat stood a man, hunched over and allowing the railing to support him as he lay his elbows on the wood, peering over at the soft rolling waves. His large, rough brown beard was sprayed and wetted from the mist, and a hand resting on his stomach revealed the large man to be discontent. It was even more evident when his face turned sour and hurled his head over the railing. A brief gag and a spit into the water sounded soon after. Another approached from behind the seasick man, one of a similar build and beard, only his was a blonde-grey and his height was clearly taller. He strode up to him easily, clearly accustomed to the lulls of a ship’s rocky deck. The brown-bearded man turned his head as he wiped spit from his lips and grunted a greeting to him; the blonde-bearded one did the same. He rested his elbows on the railing much like his companion and let out a deep sigh, focusing on the barely visible coastline before them.

“Finally back, eh, Thomas?”

 

“Mng... took much longer then when we first set out... an’ this sickness nevah wants to leave me, it seems.”

 

“Nevah undahstood why ye nevah got yer sealegs like I did.”

“I nevah bothered to learn, or really ‘ad the opportunity as one such as the former sea Captain an’ current Commodore Peter Chivay ‘ad.”

The blonde-grey bearded Peter chuckled in agreement and conceded the point. With a deep inhale he took in the salty sea air before turning to look at his brother.

“Quite ah time we ‘ad in Nave, aye?”

“Mmm... can’t say I expected ‘alf the fings we ‘ad there.”

“Aye, aye... quite the journey, an’ quite the people we met.”

“I’ll nevah forget that bastard Lord Smegma. Runnin’ about like some ‘airy bear an’ mountin’ wild ‘orses like it was as easy as eatin’ wiff yer ‘ands.”

“Quite the land...”

“Quite the expedition...”

Chapter One

 

Kaijin snorted and narrowed his eyes at the two bearded men before him. At first glance, you could tell they were foreigners. Foreign to Kaijin, the empire, and to Nave itself. Even in such a vast empire as Tindrem, these two bearded men in their white rose tabards stuck out like a sore thumb. Kaijin’s snorts were met with audible, gurgled grunts from the two Chivay brothers as a reply, and the smaller of the two brothers spoke up once again.

“I said... do ye know the way to Tindrem? We were told to ‘ead there by the dockmaster.”

Kaijin stood firm, crossing his arms as he stared to Thomas. His sneer showed nothing short of a warm greeting to the two, and neither did his overall appearance. Everything about Kaijin didn’t seem friendly, but the Chivays, as arrogant as they are, saw nothing to deter them from inquiry or conversation with this grizzled Khurite horse lord. Finally, after several moments of silence(although the bustling of the village market was as loud as ever), the Khurite spoke.

 

“Tindrem, is northeast of here. Along the coast. But you’ll not get there on foot, let alone by yourselves. Foreigners as ignorant as yourselves will easily fall to the charge of an approaching Reddin.”

 

“An’ who’s to say we’re so foreign? By the looks of it, we look more like these fisherman then you or yer lad ovah there will evah be.”

It was true. The Chivays, although different in action and culture, were not as noticably different as the small Khurite band that had arrived into the village. In fact, if the Chivays had not their heavy Lyrian accents and perhaps a more refined nature, they would have even blended in nicely with the motley crew of fishermen and villagers that inhabited the port town of Meduli. Another snort came from Kaijin as he turned about, muttering his native Khurite tongue to his companion, who had just finished adjusting the saddle on the two stumpy steppe horses in which the two had arrived on. Thomas grunted once again in reply and made a half-step forward, resting a hand on the pommel of his bastard sword. A wave from Peter eased his advance, as the older brother had noticed the newest man(although you could argue he was more like a stunted bear) approaching, pulling along a large mongrel horse by the reins, clearly bigger than him and the shorter, sleeker steppe horses the Khurites rode. He stopped before the two and looked up, his height was clearly lacking, even in the eyes of a Khurite’s standard, and his face was riddled with wrinkles, specks of dried dirt, and all the other things a truly ugly thing could possess, all topped with a salt and pepper beard that was untrimmed and disheveled.

“And who have we here, Kaijin? Some newcomers to the village?” He spoke in a clear and neutral accent and showed the Chivays a warm smile, countered to the Khurite’s now expected snarl.

 

“Some newcomers to the land, Smegma” the Khurite grumbled and adjusting his crossed arms, flexing and unflexing to allow some leeway for the lamellar greaves to move with ease. Smegma simply grinned wider and turned to the Chivays, letting out a short chuckle in the meantime, “Well, no need to be so hostile to them. I’m sure they’re just as confused as you were when your first horse was lost, Kaijin.” The comment from Smegma made the Khurite curse in anger. He turned away and walked off to the horses and hissed to his Khurite brother in their native tongue. A grunt from both the Chivays concluded their judgement of Kaijin, and Smegma spoke once more.

 

“I am Smegma, the Horse Lord.” He grinned widely at his self-proclaimed title.

 

“A pleasure to meet ye, Lord Smegma. Duke Petah Chivay, ‘ead of ‘ouse Chivay. An’ this is my brother, Lord Thomas Chivay.”

 

“A simple pleasure it is to see foreign lords enter the shores of Nave. What brings you here? And where do you hail from?”

 

It was Thomas who spoke this time, easily warming up to the more polite and respectful Lord Smegma, “The land of Anthos. From wot I know it’s norf of ‘ere. We’ve come on an expedition on be’alf of the Holy Oren Empire an’ the Order of the White Rose.”

 

Smegma nodded a few times in thought, rubbing his beard in interest as he hums a crescendo, “Mmmm.......well! I welcome you two to the land of Nave, and the humble village of Meduli.”

The Chivays nodded their thanks and Peter took control of the conversation once more, turning his hips to face Smegma fully, craning his head down to allow eye contact with the cobalt eyes before him.

“We’re lookin’ to get to the citeh of Tindrem. The dockmaster told us that is where we should first seek out. A village such as this would not grant us the ‘knowledge’ we require in this new land.”

Smegma smirked and nodded a few times, waving his free hand out in an exaggerated gesture, “Well, it just so happens our company is setting out to Tindrem as well. You’re welcome to come along, and I suggest it. As I’m sure my Khurite companion has said, the way is not easily marked, and the danger is always apparent. We’d welcome such extra fighting hands on our journey.”

Peter nodded and grinned in return, “Ye ‘ave our fanks fer that. We’ll wait fer the rest of the goods to unload from the ship an’ we’ll ‘ead out wiff you.”

“In the meantime, let’s introduce you two to the rest of the company. It’ll be good to know who you’ll be travelling with.”

A nod from the Chivays acknowledged their acceptance and Smegma grinned, handing off the reins of the large mongrel horse to the silent, more reserved Khurite and spinning on a heel, heading off down the gravel of the road, the Chivay brothers just behind him. Thomas perked his head up as he questioned Smegma.

 

“Wot’s wiff that short one an’ ‘is attitude?”

Smegma smirked and remarked back, “ ‘e’s a Khurite. The attitude comes with the horse they’re born on.”

[DelaneyG 1279]

Arthal grunts, wondering. "When are they returning....?"

[Solaba 144]

Ingar attacks skeletons in a Graveyard.

[3andD 1722]

Gwenael sad face =((

[Servant of St. Owyn 384]

Unek makes everyone shields.