Yenga and other Animals
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 20 min read
Weifu – Replenish Supplies, Leave by Morning – North Side
On the north-side of Weifu the horses shifted and stirred in their stables. Their plan for the evening had been simple. Eat some hay and settle down for the night. Instead, they were being manhandled by someone they didn’t know, and it was extremely confusing. Yes, everything the person was doing was the same as Tobi – even the carts and the bridles had the same smell. They wanted to resist, resorting to some stubbornness and mild intimidation, but the sugar and carrots were delicious. They figured Tobi would be along soon enough.
For his part, young Tobi was heading in the direction of the prison, where rumours were running wild – as they often do – that a full-scale battle had broken out. Things were often dull in Weifu, and he wanted bragging rights that he’d seen everything.
Streets away, it was the horses that noticed the smell of fire first. They became agitated and restless, but the smoke was distant so there was no need to panic yet. The voices of shouting could be heard like a muffled wind cascading thorough a cavern. Yenga thought this was a poetic way to think about it. He was 17 hands high, a majestic black with a coat that shone in the moonlight, and unlike most horses who think only of the need to eat, sleep and that thing with lady horses, Yenga was … different.
For instance, Yenga knew there was something off with the flame-haired woman and his eyes kept switching to the grass aside the yard. He wasn’t sure, but there may have been a snake there. There were two other men; the one who gave him carrots and sugar and a loud boisterous man who kept being shushed to whatever he said about being they’d be in Chemont by morning. “But I’m there first, Mr GTU.”
“Shhh!” Why did we ever bring him thought Fiza.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an explosion that shook the night; a distant fireball rose beyond the rooftops. At this, Yenga stood on his hind legs and craned his neck, so he could look through a gap in the roofline of the stables and down the hill towards the prison. The other horses began to panic and Yenga shot them a sideways glance. The man with the carrots tried to soothe their nerves but Yenga was more curious than nervous.
The Weifu city watch were pulling soldiers from the northern walls back towards the explosion where cheesemaker RJ Samuels & Sons, situated at the corner of Rhenwoe Street, just across from the prison garrison with a standing night guard of eight was now engulfed in a fireball. Some yelled that the latest explosion was from Endelo & Sons – makers of cheese wax: principle suppliers to RJ Samuels & Sons. Shouts of “What about the rum shoppe?” echoed in the streets as the Weifu city watch, in the in their fine, polished armour clanked through the night.
When news – and a distinctly more fragrant explosion reached the horses, they were ready to leave in haste and did so with the flame-haired lady and the carrot-man straining at the reins. Njal Ulf looked at his horse – a tall, majestically black one and said “Giddy-up!” Yenga looked back at him with disdain.
“C’mon. Follow the others,” Njal reached for the whip and rested it on Yenga’s back. “You don’t want me to do this Mr Horse.” Mr Horse didn’t either and so turned his head back as far as possible, grabbed the whip in his teeth and threw it into the bushes. Njal cursed, jumped off the cart and went to retrieve the whip. With the man distracted, Yenga left the yard; the rumble of the cartwheels caused Njal to look up and curse again as a flaming barrel of rum slammed into the stables.
Veraku – Sleep, welcome guests, travel to Chemont
“Ah we all seem to be here,” despite an evening of mulled wine, Lady Euph was in a spritely mood.
“It’s a bit early,” Lord Hok was correct in this matter. Venu Enarum had woken him at first light with an immediate summons to the Ordo Divitiarum in the matter of the Epumatara talisman. He was requested to attend with his associate, but only on the basis he had bathed recently. FFS had.
Bubbli de Brecia was also in no mood to be fussed. She’d taken Lady Euph’s advice and stayed in one of the Ordo’s guest rooms and nursed a small hangover. She clutched her Fidlyra as requested.
“Artimisia, would you mind opening the door?” She meant portal, but didn’t want to give Hok an opinion about not wishing to leave Veraku.
“I’m very close to finding Njal Ulf, your ladyship,” chimed in a hopeful FFS. She looked at him carefully as Artimisia began to wave here arms in wide circles and began chanting, and a wind erupted in the chambers. “Closer than you think!” Lady Euph called back as purple clouds formed and the ‘door’ opened.
“What’s this?” Lord Hok was confused and perturbed. He knew what a portal was, of course, and that mages were needed to open them. But he also knew they lead away from Veraku, and he had matters to attend to. And he hated leaving home, but still found himself shuffling… or being shuffled by Venu Enarum who wanted this to be over with before he had his breakfast.
Chemont – The ship and a key
To the west of the small port of Chemont on the i-Milos River strange purple clouds began to form. A wind picked up as a vortex of gas and dust whipped in the air. The mage Artimisia stepped through first, the orb on her staff glowing brightly. A purple-haired lady clutching a musical instrument followed, together with a man who appeared to be arguing with a military-looking man. Another man followed; his one with the childlike wonder and finally a woman who appeared to hate portal travel, but was nether-the-less accustomed to it.
The company took the winding path through the copse of trees which gradually gave way to small cottages and eventually the trappings of a small port village on the edge of Chemont, where 3 horses greeted them. The mage Artimisia approached the majestic black one, stroked his flank and whispered something that only Yenga could hear.
The enlarged company took seats outside a tavern and ordered a breakfast of breads, fruit and a local yogurt infused with i-Milos wines. Here they awaited the arrival of a ship. Njal Ulf sat in an unusual silence opposite a clueless FFS.
“So,” began Akac his mind absently running across calculations for the umpteenth time, “You plan to open a portal that connects with a specific time and place. I didn’t think that was possible. Portals are random, aren’t they?”
Marc Wick and Voltumna exchanged glances, shrugged and the latter place an arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Yes, they are random,” began the Lord of the Sky, “Portals can be directed to open in specific areas of the continent within the same moment of time. That’s relatively easy for any mage. Then you have mages like my friend here.” He nodded towards Mr Wick. “He can open portals that cross time. They too are random, and they connect haphazardly and often not when you want them. You, see?” Akac nodded. “But then with a little work and an artifact… which is coming… a portal can be opened that connects to a moment in time.” He paused. “We think.”
The Behemoth arrived mid-morning, where Jean Flint bade a short farewell to Lady Penelope who, at the request of the mage Artimisia planned to take a small force of well-armed assassins, Milan i-Milos: the Protector of Chemont and, at Mr Chief’s insistence, the combined force of those who flew the banner of Fedaloup, into the court of Chemont and retrieve the Darvanho Crystal. For this, Wynn volunteered to assist – in case – he reasoned that the crystal was a little harder to obtain.
After a moment’s thought, Artimisia added that the black horse should go with them giving Lady P some protection when they fled the castle. “He’s called Yenga…” she added. “Oh, and please take the Darvanho to the lord of the sky.”
Artimisia then opened another portal for Mearaithe and his newfound friends from the prison break to take up positions outside the Castille du Chemont to aid in their departure. Simmo asked whether lady garments were needed on this job and breathed a sigh of relief when told they were not.
Next came the expedition to the Menavariyam where Artimisia would approach, gasp at the place forbidden to her and then return in the briefest of moments to the Island of Mhy. The expedition comprised the company formed by Euph, Lady Bia (and her faithful manservant, who swore to be by her side and not under the banner of Fedaloup), the Loremaster Enekos, Horatio, and Jean Flint. Everyone else was tasked with protecting the ship in case forces from Weifu or Chemont poked their noses where they didn’t belong.
With Artimisia exhausted from multiple portals, the group had mostly walked, taking turns to ride on the two remaining carts until they made camp in an abandoned village in the shadow of the Menavariyam where a goose awaited them. A note was attached to its leg which simply read: MW comes.
The horses were stabled, and fresh water found from a nearby stream. Whilst the others shared a meal cooked by Njal Ulf and exchanged incredulous tales, Jean Flint studied his notes. A hastily written parchment had been stuffed into his journal. It read:
The blade of de Careno is key. No matter it’s uses since, it began with
his blood and therefore, is a key to the moment of time you seek…
On the Behemoth, Planner the Specter smiled to himself.
The evening sun had begun to slip behind the Menavariyam, and the long crate shifted a final time. Nails popped open with a satisfying sound and Vampiria took a deep breath. She lay motionless for a few moments and two thoughts struck her: she needed to find captain Jean Flint and give him a piece of her mind, and she was also bloody hungry.
Vampiria was awake now, but her strength sapped. She carefully lifted herself from the long crate and headed for the nearest stairs towards the sound of some merriment and musical squawking that came, she determined in the flickering light from a burning fire from a man dressed in green who stopped playing the moment he caught sight of the angry woman approaching him. She managed “Captain. Where?” her bloodlust rising but she was determined not to make a scene here.
Fables say that you cannot lie to a vampire and Jeremy believed those fables. He pointed to the distant mountains, mouthed the word ‘Cave’, and sat down. Vampiria looked at him and then to the distant mountains, her gaze interrupted by the view of the village and the city beyond. Good, snack first, head to the city, have a good meal, get changed and fly to the cave.
A Night in Chemont
In the Castille du Chemont things were going well for Lady Penelope. Yenga had been led to the courtyard by Tirke: the corridors and passageways of the Castille were no place for a horse. He was well-behaved and calm – despite an inkling that something involving sharp sticks was about to happen. Why not travel with Mearaithe, you ask. Well, while the Castile was relatively small, the grounds had extensive formal gardens to traverse, before reaching the main gate and the city beyond. So, Yenga needed to be as close to the Castille as possible, while Mearaithe and company ensured the portcullis remained up.
Inside the Castille itself, what little resistance existed in the form of patrols were soon sent to slumber by Shady and George Thomson-Ulysses and the company quickly reached the heart of the Castille, whereupon Lady Penelope passed a sketch to Mr Wynn, and they headed in the direction of the vault. Two oaken doors with several locks needed Wynn’s skills but they were soon a distant memory.
Mr Wynn reasoned that good tales in the ancient order of thieves don’t begin with the words: ‘We walked through a portal into the heart of the Castille du Chemont and took a crystal from the vault and ignored everything else.’ Instead, he included the phrase ‘…took a crystal and handfuls of glowstones and shimmerleaf.’ Despite Lady Penelope’s disapproval, the story now had more credence.
Of course, they didn’t have a mage to leave the Castille: which meant layers of well-armed guards to encounter. In this, the assassins cleared a path – until Milan i-Milos went off-script to cross the Great Hall and, using his knife, defaced a portrait of the Duke Karis – Lady Penelope’s cruel brother who had assumed control of Chemont upon her father’s death. While the shadows provided the company some comfort, Milan’s satisfaction was ended by the Duke Karis and his small counsel who happened upon the scene.
I will describe the following moments in brief.
Duke Karis stopped momentarily, his gaze falling from the portrait to the figure of Milan i-Milos. Recognition of the Protector took a little time to process before he screamed the words “Guards on me!” The clatter of boots was followed by the sound of swords being drawn, soldiers falling as poisoned darts hit them from the shadows and an almighty cry of “Fedaloup!!” that erupted. During the skirmish, Lady Penelope took the crystal from Wynn who did his utmost to protect the glowstones and shimmerleaf as he followed her away from the Great Hall and towards a waiting Yenga.
For his part, Yenga bolted toward a group of soldiers who were lighting fires, blowing horns, and drawing their swords as they headed toward the Great Hall. Artimisia had asked him to protect Lady Penelope at all costs and given him some sugar. Yenga intended to do this and ploughed into the unsuspecting soldiers. Tirke figured something had gone awry, drew his own sword and began looking for his companions.
At the portcullis, Mearaithe had ‘acted’ drunk to ask inane questions of the guards while Simmo, Viz and Tiara sneaked by to ensure the gate wouldn’t be closed. The call to arms shook the guards from their conversations only to be greeted with an Angry Dropbear who smashed their heads together.
Milan i-Milos broke away from the fighting to help clear the way for Lady Penelope who noticed a long streak of blood on his blade and swore she heard the cries of “He’s cut my bloody ear off!” It sounded like Karis and the smile on Milan’s face confirmed to her that it probably was.
Outside the Castille, Yenga and Tirke had put the band of soldiers to sleep – some permanently – as Lady Penelope, Wynn and Milan i-Milos emerged with a shout of, “They could do with our help inside Mr Tirke.” Yenga nodded his head towards Lady Penelope, and she reached into her tunic and pulled a lump of sugar for him. He liked these people, shook his head in joy and waited as she climbed on his back, grabbed a handful of his mane, and rode hard towards the main gate, leaving Wynn looking forlorn and alone. He quickly looked around for the stables.
Once safely through and on her way Mearaithe and company began making new friends with soldiers who came too close the main gate. It was a poetic dance between them – some witnesses called it mesmerizing and some of those witnesses were disgruntled townsfolk tired the taxes imposed by the Duke Karis. As soldiers fell, they picked up swords and spear and headed into the courtyard.
‘He’d make a good king,’ thought Yenga.
“What?” said a surprised Lady Penelope…
Destiny
Marc Wick had the tendency to arrive in the shadows and breathe words into your soul. It still unnerved Jean Flint: he found mages in general uncomfortable but sometimes necessary. The words ‘enter the cave’ were distinct and he mustered the company of pirates and visitors from the Ordo Divitiarum to follow Mr Wick.
The cave was lined with thin strands of blue light, a kind of plant that shone in dark places mused Jean Flint. The light glistened on the damp cave walls; never enough to replace the torches, but giving them more confidence than a dark and dank cave.
They climbed wide but smoothed steps: those worn into rocks from past smugglers, druids, or adventure seekers, before emerging in a chamber where two men: the Lord of the Sky and… “Akac, is that you?” Jean Flint asked, more surprised than the arrival of a mage.
A new camp was made in the chamber as Akac beckoned for Jean Flint to join him at the rim of a crater perhaps 3 men in diameter with a luminescent pool whose surface shimmered. “This will be the portal, captain,” he began. “From what I understand it will be too dangerous for anyone to pass through, so we can only observe. They told me you’ll be able to see this de Careno at the moment he dies. Hopefully you find out who killed him and maybe you find justice for him.”
The air grew cold, suddenly and without any noticeable wind as grains of rock, sands and dirt began to swirl. First as whisps and slowly building up consistent clusters. The company grew nervous as the fragments gathered intensity and form. A voice whispered in the darkness: “Now, master?”
Voltumna removed his hood and whispered back, “Yes, my friend. Join us now.”
The swirl became a vortex that whipped the hands and faces of those present so much that they shielded their eyes. Slowly a figure of a man emerged from the organised chaos of swirling rocks. The Sands of Time was amongst them. He looked briefly at the gathering and then headed for the crater before looking back at the lord of the sky. “Soon my friend,” whispered Voltumna.
There’s a moment in life when everything must come to an end. A moment where the air is still, and a clarity permeates. In that moment we are given time to reflect and remember. As Yenga gallops towards the cave, Lady Penelope grips ever harder and time for her focuses on the events of her father’s death, the rise of Duke Karis and her own exile to meet a band of assassins, thieves, and warriors. This was her family now and she clutched her pocket. The crystal hummed.
In the Castille du Chemont, Milan i-Milos and Tirke were in the heat of battle. Cries of Fedaloup erupted as each of the Chemont soldiers succumbed to their own fate. Metal clanged together and Destiny rolled another dice. It wasn’t looking good for Duke Karis.
In the courtyard, the infamous travelling circus was leading a mob of angry people towards the armoury: resistance all but melting away. A simple robbery had turned and now the future of Chemont hung by a thread. It would snap, but not before the thief Wynn found a horse and careened through the city streets: the metal shoes greeting hard stone with an echo that rippled through the night. In the distance the Behemoth and he pressed on, his horse exhausted beneath him. He would reach there, relay the tale, and hear the call to arms raised by Mr Leaf.
In the air above Chemont, a crazed and over-indulged bat flew from her last meal towards a distant cave, aware of a horse with a single female rider. A brief memory flashed in her mind.
And in the cave, I sat in my own thoughts. Charting the lore and the ebb and flow of people we came to know. How chance moments caused collisions in story lines, where Euph’s hatred of the Blind Monk created a cascade that changed the destiny of Horatio, reshaped Veraku and her place within it, connected into the world of Johnny Sacks and the voyage to Tsarinaya. And now, one more face: the purple haired Fidlyra player.
The Sands of Time caught my gaze and whispered into my soul, “Soon Enekos. Soon…”
At his side, Athanasia pulsed, and the luminescent pool began to swirl in the crater; its waters bubbled and frothed. The Sands of Time rushed backwards…
A Silver Coin
He was in the fields tending to sheep and cattle, gathering the harvest, visiting the village of Ekrinaya, and trading goods with the locals. He was popular too, greeting everyone with a warm and genuine smile and the uncanny ability to remember obscure facts about everyone.
He remembered their faces, many of their names too. He remembered Ms Vaduva, chopping fish and his neighbour who suggested he become a seller of rare maps. But he was always a farmer first. And one who loved puzzles second. That was his essence. And rare books from a “Ye Tome of Lyfe” nestled deep within Ekrinaya’s weave of alleys. Books that described the ancient past, and their secrets.
The Sands of Time swirled and moved parchments into pages and a farmer towards a shelf and Destiny rolled her dice. Soon. Soon.
The farmer kept notes and formed ideas for a device that the ancients believed could make one immortal and life was good; good enough to want to see what changes would come to the world. And he had found a watchmaker who, for the bribe of a large purse of gold coins was prepared to forsake the warnings embodied in the word. One word.
‘Αθανασία’
The Sands of Time move and the clouds surge forward as days become weeks and a silver coin falls from the air. The messenger boy smiles wide. His first task completed; a second, much darker, task would visit him later in the night. It was necessary. All life is sacred and all life in intertwined. Decisions are but a roll of the dice.
As dusk fell, Ekrinaya’s alleys were less busy, so no one really noticed the farmer as he turned left then right, right then left, passed the magistrates and into the leafy lanes and formal gardens which would eventually bring him to the home of the watchmaker. He knocked on the door, checking his pocket watch for the time. No answer. And no candle flickered in the window. Distant voices and what sounded like a can being kicked. He knocked again, but this time the door became slightly ajar. He pushed it carefully and called out for the watchmaker. No response. No, there was a noise, like someone struggling to breathe.
Too far.
The Sands of Time focused and in the distance the sound of the Fidlyra played with ferocity that echoed around a cavern. He focussed as the sound waves permeated the fabric of time itself. He left the man at the farm gates and rushed to the moment Alfonso de Careno stood at his desk with a black obsidian knife, his sigil carved within the hilt and magic coursed throughout it. He turned it in his hands and held it above him. It rippled and shimmered. “Athanasia. Athanasia. Athanasia.” He chanted. High above Jean Flint mouthed ‘obsidian?’ and felt the knife pulse by his side.
Across the desk the Magus Remvarma stared blankly at de Careno before offering, “My dear Alfonso, do you remember our visitors in Denaviim – the mage and the lord of sky? Well, they are looking upon us and an obsidian knife won’t quite fill the narrative. Let me wrap it in a skin of flint until the sands of time needs it to be revealed. Let this Athanasia be the tool to bond kinsmen, brothers, and sisters for moments in time and let their memories fuse and meld to those of the one who shall find it this evening.”
Magus Remvarma smiled, waved a hand, and heard a distant sound of a Fidlyra. It reminded him it to return home. To say one last goodbye and set his world in motion. He gazed upwards to a shimmering pool of light, drifted from face to face until he settled on one – a flame-haired woman. His face softened and he smiled at her and mouthed the words, ‘Soon Bia. Soon.’ In the cavern a solitary tear rolled down her cheek as a purple vortex opened and the Magus stepped through.
Alfonso de Careno was alone.
A Trade Completed
She was still angry at being locked in a large crate with barrels and nets cast upon her, like some forgotten remnants of past experiences and this pushed her on towards an abandoned village where a campfire flickered, and the same horse and rider now trotted. No time for another meal…
Exhausted, Yenga ambled through the abandoned village where Njal and FFS were still sharing tales over a bottle of rum, neither too concerned with the happenings of the night. Yenga continued on towards the cave and began to climb the polished stone steps carved into the rock. Thin strands of blue light glistened on the damp cave walls; and while he was afraid, he could feel the tug of destiny. With Lady Penelope still astride him, they reached the cavern to see a ring of people huddled around a crater. To her side Voltumna approached with an outstretched hand. She open the pocket of her tunic and gave him the crystal. It pulsed with a soft pink hue.
At this, the Lord of the Sky looked across at Yenga and smiled. Yenga nodded, made a satisfied snort, and began to turn just as the terrifying sound of wind roared through the cavern. Jean Flint looked towards the Sands of Time who seemed serene; lost in a mediation. No, this wind was different. It whipped and screeched with a malevolence; shards of rocks splintered, and sand particles whistled in the air and those within the cavern shielded their faces once more. Bubbli briefly stopped playing and Marc Wick rushed to where she stood, throwing open his hands, shielding her in a translucent blue-hued light, and shouted, “Keep playing!” She did with a force that rippled across the cavern.
Yenga kicked his feet in the air and landed with a thud – a fresh echo bounced from the walls and small rocks began to drop for the cave roof. Screams and gasps erupted and when Jean Flint’s name was called out in an ear-piercing shrill voice, Yenga turned and, with Lady Penelope holding on for dear life, he bolted from the cave.
The Sands of Time slowed… down…
Alfonso de Careno held up the knife one final time and remembered Remvarma’s final words. “The Athanasia must be hidden until the Sands of Time is ready.” And now he too saw the shimmering pool of light and the faces above. His eyes locked with those of the farmer, now older and wiser with the understanding to wield the Athanasia. He knew his moments here were done. The trade would be completed, as Remvarma had predicted, and he welcomed the Shadow Realm. Soon.
Soon.
The Sands of Time slowed… as a furious Vampiria flew into the cavern, her ancient, tortured features causing Fiza to recoil and lose focus. The magic of the zenuma serpents from the lake of the Menavam Temple coursed through her soul as fear and surprise led to snakes both real and imagined emerging from the rock face. They whipped, snapped at the air, and fell as Vampiria flew above them.
Jean Flint reached for his knife which hovered above the shimmering pool, flakes of flint turning to dust and revealing the obsidian beneath. Suddenly a snake bit deep into his hand. He twisted violently, slicing the serpent which now tumbled into the swirling vortex. The Sands of Time slowed as the bloodied snake passed through the threshold. The light was brief as the lifeless snake fell upon Alfonso de Careno who fell backwards in a chair, his arms folding in shock: the knife falling and slicing one moment in time. The snake evaporated in flash of energy and de Careno’s journey was now complete.
Their eyes remained locked as a young farmer rushed into the watchmaker’s home to find a dying de Careno slumped in his chair as the watchmaker whispered: “Taken… taken… Find, must… find… taken… Veraku… Ver…”
The sands of time rushed forward, and images of past friends filled Jean Flint’s mind. He knew who to remember – those who had made the Black Sails. Those he laughed with, shared moments with. Some were here now. Others long gone. And now he had his answers. Not the defined answers he wanted. Not the one person to hunt down, find and slaughter – but the answer that all things end, and all ends are connected.
Afterglow
Beyond the cave in the abandoned village, Lady Penelope had soothed Yenga enough to lead him to a stable, give him some water and let him rest. She asked Njal Ulf to keep an eye on the horses, but as rum took him to the land of sleep, he rested against a hay bale. Yenga began to calm down and at some point, of the evening he felt different. A weight was lifted from him, and he dropped into a deep sleep. Inside the cave, the Lord of the Sky kept his own promise and destroyed the crystal that had controlled Yenga for far too long.
Lady Euph sat in silence as Bubbli de Brescia slumped into a troubled sleep. Lord Hok was dumfounded, FFS asking him inane questions. I sat with Horatio, and we agreed that a fire would have made more sense.
Morning came and slowly the camp came to life. Vampiria was still seething, but was once again in human form and Fiza had regained her demeanour. The snakes had retreated, and a quietness befell the camp. It was a lot to process for Jean Flint and while each of his questions had been answered, doubts remained. If they had never happened upon the cave; if Vampiria hadn’t been locked away, if Fiza had remained on the ship, would Alfonso de Careno be alive?
He was shaken from his mood by an agitated Njal Ulf who was screaming obscenities at Yenga’s stable which included, “Who the **** are you? Why are you naked? Where’s the damn horse?” Yenga looked back at him in silence before a feeling of being very different came across him.
“Mmm,” he managed, struggling with each syllable. “Mmmmaaa, Mmmmaaa, Mmmmaaarrr, Mmmmaaarrr cuuus.”
“We don’t know any Marcus. Where the hell is the horse?”
Epilogue
The sands of time rush forward and across many moons, many things occurred. Lord Hok and FFS returned to Veraku, this time by cart across the Menavariyam. Lady Penelope detoured into Chemont where her brother Duke Karis had been placed in a dungeon. She was the heir to the throne of the land, but she politely refused and asked Milan i-Milos: Protector of Chemont to rule in her stead. Of this, Yenga had been correct.
Faces came and went, and the Black Sails evolved. Mearaithe spent less time on the ship but those who remember, remember the people who made the company an endearing friendship. Some names may show the future such as the fearless Freeddee, page to Lady Euph who remained on the Behemoth cutting some ties to the Ordo. The travelling circus moved on to new adventures only to return in 1523 making the ship their home.
The Blue Sea continued to serve up strange new folks such as Ajis, the acrobat from some frozen lands none had heard of, and each new tale brought a sense of longing and adventure beyond the known world in the mind of the Loremaster. There were tales I wanted to tell, so many new people to discover. But everything has and end and every end is connected. And it was my time to bring the lore to an end. And my time upon this wonderful vessel filled with such diverse souls. The Behemoth had docked in Ghenu where another ship awaited to take me beyond the Blue Sea. To new adventures and beginnings. And I smiled at the tremendous gift you had all given me.
And as summer befell the world, I had one last timeless question to ask my old friend Jean Flint … “Are you ever going to tell me a damn joke?”
Fedaloup!
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