There was certain places that the chosen of the Celestial bodies were expected not to be found. Mainly these involved being found near areas of Realm interest or presence. Relentless are the Waves was especially expected to remain beyond these areas as his identity was so well known amongst the hunters. Yet where the Realm existed so did the jade flow. Not even the Guild with all its merchants and promises could display such stability and wealth. The Realm Empire may be slipping but it still had enough of a hold on true power to be regarded with care. So it was here, in Wavecrest, that he was forced to sit while lugging around an item that would easily cost his life.
Curled inside sailing rags and cloth was a weapon whose ancestory was older than him. Carved of black jade so fine it looked like ice, whose blade nearly cut his hand simply stealing it from the ship, it was a magnificent item. Only the spirits knew when the sword was made or by whose hand, yet many Outcastes would pay handsomely for their own. The Realm commanded ownership over such artifacts, so it was quite a find to have one for sale. Yet the markings also dictated this weapon to a dynastic line. While the blade was ancient, the hilt was not so and its symbols bore it to the V’neef family. Tendrils of grape vines and old glyphs would make that ownership easy enough to spot. So a close wrap had to be held to keep it safe and the newly established owner safe as well.
An alert had already been raised for the weapon and the thief who had taken it from the ship. Other charges such as arson and damaging a Realm vessel were also scrawled to the bottom of the posters. Oddly enough, the sword commanded the greatest penalties over even a proud vessel. So Relentless are the Waves could only imagine what the punishment would be for both charges on his head. Getting through the ports would be near impossible now without his own ship and using the potential profits of the weapon for bargaining would likely find him turned over for the reward. No, his last chance for the quick riches was a fence here and disappearance into the shadows. Problem was finding a fence with the stomach for such a job.
So he found himself seated on a chair that could barely hold his weight. Judging from the people gathered here, the chair was likely broken a few times over someone’s backside. The place smelled of stale ale, rotted food and urine spread liberally in places he might not want to consider. Already he knew the smell would take a week to exit his clothes, but few patrons here really cared. Most were either leaving for the ocean or had just come in from the salty waves. That smell would overpower anything found here. Women far past their primes or who never had much of a prime to speak of moved about the tables. Some with liquor and others offering their services for a modest coin. Many avoided Relentless are the Waves for the same reason that most gave him berth on the street, a presence that came with the calling.
One woman seemed persistent though as she leered over his shoulder. Hands that were surprisingly strong touched his shoulder while she leaned over the other. Hair that might once had smelled of flowers among the sand slapped his face with the harshness of paper. He could only smell the bar now and see sadness in her sunken eyes. Yet she smiled warmly, except for the black and yellow of her stained teeth. Knotted fingers coming down to touch his hand and her voice just strong enough to break the boisterous noise around him.
“Aye well there sailor would a night of your company be a welcome bless’n. I’d be willing to bet you got coin’uff for the trip ya do. Your part’na upstairs ‘dough picked up the bill for this message when you’re ready to get on wit the deal. “ She gave another smile and swung into his lap. A bony bottom pushed into his groin. “He did say tim was short lad.â€
Curled inside sailing rags and cloth was a weapon whose ancestory was older than him. Carved of black jade so fine it looked like ice, whose blade nearly cut his hand simply stealing it from the ship, it was a magnificent item. Only the spirits knew when the sword was made or by whose hand, yet many Outcastes would pay handsomely for their own. The Realm commanded ownership over such artifacts, so it was quite a find to have one for sale. Yet the markings also dictated this weapon to a dynastic line. While the blade was ancient, the hilt was not so and its symbols bore it to the V’neef family. Tendrils of grape vines and old glyphs would make that ownership easy enough to spot. So a close wrap had to be held to keep it safe and the newly established owner safe as well.
An alert had already been raised for the weapon and the thief who had taken it from the ship. Other charges such as arson and damaging a Realm vessel were also scrawled to the bottom of the posters. Oddly enough, the sword commanded the greatest penalties over even a proud vessel. So Relentless are the Waves could only imagine what the punishment would be for both charges on his head. Getting through the ports would be near impossible now without his own ship and using the potential profits of the weapon for bargaining would likely find him turned over for the reward. No, his last chance for the quick riches was a fence here and disappearance into the shadows. Problem was finding a fence with the stomach for such a job.
So he found himself seated on a chair that could barely hold his weight. Judging from the people gathered here, the chair was likely broken a few times over someone’s backside. The place smelled of stale ale, rotted food and urine spread liberally in places he might not want to consider. Already he knew the smell would take a week to exit his clothes, but few patrons here really cared. Most were either leaving for the ocean or had just come in from the salty waves. That smell would overpower anything found here. Women far past their primes or who never had much of a prime to speak of moved about the tables. Some with liquor and others offering their services for a modest coin. Many avoided Relentless are the Waves for the same reason that most gave him berth on the street, a presence that came with the calling.
One woman seemed persistent though as she leered over his shoulder. Hands that were surprisingly strong touched his shoulder while she leaned over the other. Hair that might once had smelled of flowers among the sand slapped his face with the harshness of paper. He could only smell the bar now and see sadness in her sunken eyes. Yet she smiled warmly, except for the black and yellow of her stained teeth. Knotted fingers coming down to touch his hand and her voice just strong enough to break the boisterous noise around him.
“Aye well there sailor would a night of your company be a welcome bless’n. I’d be willing to bet you got coin’uff for the trip ya do. Your part’na upstairs ‘dough picked up the bill for this message when you’re ready to get on wit the deal. “ She gave another smile and swung into his lap. A bony bottom pushed into his groin. “He did say tim was short lad.â€
