Landfall

[Mike]

The ship cast off from the shore of their island at night, and the gnarly seadog that they had hired as a captain guided the vessed safely from the rocky shores and out towards the rolling waves of the ocean. The sails caught wind, and under a starlit sky their vessel gained momentum. The captain said few words save a curse now and then, spitting contemptously overboard when ever a wave sent cold water and foam over the railing. His passengers were a quiet trio. Titus occupied a bench in the bow of the ship. The flesh of Alus Vitellus had started to change as his spirit dwelled within. His complexion had grown lighter and his features took on a more noble appearence. The nose and eyebrows had straigtened, undergoing transformation little by little. The effect was unintended, but day by day he came closer to resembling Titus Albinus as he had looked before he had been cast down and imprisoned, alive in his grave. Behind him, two of Kaloc’s slaves rested in sullen silence. The massive ape-like negroes of Shaboolie origin had been wasting away under a degenerate profiteer until Kaloc had taken them for himself, through means Albinus did not care to find out. They stood head and shoulders taller than him and though burnt and bruised, were heavily muscular after strict training. Their savagery was noticeable in their dull stare and evil appearance, as well as the misshapen bronze bracers and leather loincloths they wore. Albinus suspected they praticed cannibalism as their attitude towards the ship’s crew seemed unnaturally foul. They snarled and branished their sharpened teeth when ever something caught their attention, which fortunatly was a rare occurance as they prefer to direct their dull stare straight ahead and take notice of little. They each held on to a short blade with great determination, and Kaloc had assured him they were adequate guards.

The vessel came upon the docks of Serpent’s Hold, and Albinus forced his cold fingers to bend around the bars of the wooden ladder lowered onto the deck of the ship. He pulled his cold body up the ladder, and let hear a sigh of relief when he reached the top as the planks under his feet were not moved back and forth by an immesurable mass of water. Moments later the slaves followed in silence. The moon was given little aid from human effort in providing light; most torch brackets were empty and hardly a lantern was lit. The streets were populated chiefly by rats scurrying across the cobblestones. Disrepair was evident by the cracked stones, overgrown in places by weeds. Serpent’s Hold was stagnant, which did not bother Albinus. The group eventually found themselves at the seaside tavern on the opposite site of the island settlement. It seemed the liveliest part of town, with warm light spilling out on the streets from several windows, and music and voices heard from within. Albinus entered the tavern, and his two guards pressed themselves in through the door behind him. The patrons were deep in their cups, and the bard who had been heard seemed uninspired, plucking a lute idly. Several pairs of eyes watched the newcomers, but no words were offered. Albinus made his way to the barkeep and ordered drink. Vitellus had enjoyed wine, but Albinus were more for spirits. The barkeep poured him a small glass of clear liquid.

”One for yourself too, good man. I depsise the thought of a sober man in a tavern.”

The barkeep poured himself a glass and downed the liquid with a grimace. Albinus did the same, and then started to talk. The barkeep, who considered himself a good listener, soon forgot his ability to speak alltogether.

”You see, I have come to this sordid place for several reasons. Sources tell me this rock stands like a sentinel watching several major trade routes, including the controversial trade of flesh. The number of ships in harbor and the idle hands drinking their sorrows away to the early hours of morning tell me that trade has been sorely mismanaged. You would of course accept the notion that things are not as good as they have been – your tired expression as you hear this make it evident that you reminisce back to days when trade was plentiful and there was more life to this island. The room reeks of suspicion and paranoia, and I would reckon that half of your patrons are slave merchants, ever watchful for those who oppose their profession. The sense of community has suffered, and many families have been uprooted by criminal acticity – and the countermeasures by the flippant authorities. Not far from the truth, no? I thought so as well. This island is so full of potential and yet it is wasting away. Yes, I noticed you lowering your brows at my approach, and you are used to seeing all manners of grotesque slaves around here, so my guards were not the cause of concern. This black robe is an obvious sign I suppose. The Cult of Tekstone has taken an interest in your property and your lives. Do not be afraid now! The world will end regardless of my actions here and I have no hostile intentions. That is not to say I could not turn you and your patrons into puddles of ooze if I wished it so, but why would I? It is neither rational nor kind to proceed in such a manner. Ah, that is better. Get another round for us, it will calm the shakes. Now, I would assume you trade in flesh yourself? Good. I would be delighted to sample your wares, for a fair compensation. Nothing to exotic, a northerner if you have one. I find the simplicity and strength of a northern woman more alluring than a tigress of the south. This gold should leave you well satisfied. Your cooperation is much appreciated, and the Cult will expect more of it in the near future.”

The barkeep scratched his head and he watched the priest head up the stairs with one of his whores, while the two apeish guards lurked in a corner of the tavern, watching the front door intently. His profit was twice that of a regular night already, and the priest had done no harm. He carefully weighed the consequences of working with the Cult against the profit to be made in future dealings.

Albinus wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The woman still in the bed asked him if he was done with her, but he denied her request to leave. Washing his face with the cold water from a bucket, he watched his features in the dirty mirror. They were still mixed, still undergoing change, slow but certain as the death of their age. Soon the features of Alus Vitellus would be no more. He turned to explain to the whore.

”I have leased you for an hour and an hour I shall have. I take it you are not perfectly happy with your situation? I have no illusions that you take pleasure in your work, though I will say I found it pleasurable. I can offer you something beyond the confines of this tavern and your master, free from the conditions he dictates. I need information, and I will pay you handsomely. When you have earned enough gold from our arrangement you can afford Telborean citizenship, and their soldiers will execute anyone who lays hand on their people. That will raise you from slavery, but such things are still in the future. I need to know the names of the major slave captains that frequent Serpent’s Hold. I need to know how many ships they have, the conditions of their crews, their safe harbors and their allegiances. I have no doubt that beyond the dull facade this settlement is a pit of vipers ready to betray and kill for profit.”

The offer intrigued the wench, and the two were soon in conversation. Albinus filled out his documents as the whore spoke, and left her a bag of gold on his way back to his own ship.