Fisherman's Curse... (Emmz)

[Elanzaros]

Elaniver closed his eyes against the spray of seawater that flung itself against his large and muscled profile as though determined to try and carve his figure into the ground. He stood against it, the very slight and occasional spray of water making him slightly damp, but not for too long as he thawed in the sun. Steam radiating from him and his war hammer which hung loosely from his belt, glinting in the sun as he briefly did when the spray made yet another half hearted attempt to try and drown him. He stared out across the wide expanse of water before him. Curiosity flooding him as he wondered exactly what lay across the unpredictable blue mass and amazement at how there was so much of it. His gaze followed a lone fishing boat that trawled lazily across the sun-scattered water, squinting slightly at the reflected light as the smell of fresh fish and salt filled his nostrils. He had never really fancied life as a sailor, he remember people from his youth dreaming of travelling across the sea and discovering new lands. He didn’t like the idea however as he had yet to see someone step off the boat after on of these voyages without looking green and with wobbly legs.

He stretched his arms out to the sides and yawned in a relaxed way. There was something about staring out across the vast blueness of the ocean that made him truly relax. As though they weren’t being ruled by a madman and they weren’t fighting the war of freedom. That nothing really mattered at all. He was jolted out of his reverie however when he was shouted at by a fisherman. The man threw him a rope and gestured to a large stump of wood sticking out of the ground next to him. He looked back at the fisherman with a confused look; he had no idea how to tie up fisherman’s knots. He compromised by wrapping the rope around the stump and pulling on it wondering exactly what he was being expected to do.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

The night is always darkest just before the dawn, so if you're going to steal your neighbour’s newspaper, that's the time to do it. On the other hand, it's also a fantastic time for ditching the snippy idiots you’ve been sailing with for the past three days.

I didn’t go about doing it with any sort of grace, though. I’d lost my sea legs almost entirely, which became obvious when I crashed out of bed rather than slipped when the boat suddenly rocked. It was quickly followed by a massive cut on one leg and a steady stream of curses. The Imperial louts in the other room had just kept on snoring, though. I’d had the best of luck in meeting them while sneaking onto this ship, hoping it could take me to Aroughs or Kuasta or some other southern Imperial city instead of having to walk all the way to Surda from Teirm. They’d caught me, and I’d spun an on-the-spot faerie tale about being on their side, that I was actually working for good ol’ Galbatorix. I’d introduced myself as Nemo, the messenger boy, presented a false pass, and had managed to hitch a ride.

I was rather surprised, though, when the ship didn’t even stop once. It had gone straight past Kuasta, Feinster, Aroughs, and then had turned east to land here in Reavstone. The Kellen was an ordinary fishing vessel, so it didn’t carry any Imperial insignias, so it had managed to easily enter Surda. Once we had docked at Reavstone, the captain had started to unpack an alarming amount of explosives. It was then that it struck me that this was some kind of anti-Varden mission being set up by the Imperials. When the crew started tying the explosives to both themselves and the ship, and then insisted I do so as well, it struck me that this particular mission happened to be suicidal.

Of course, only I would happen to board the ship full of suicidal maniacs. On the bright side, they were working on their own demented initiative instead of being contracted by the Empire. However, if I didn’t escape now, I would be sorely screwed. Especially since I didn’t know how to get the explosives off me without making myself go splodey.

After picking myself up, dragging on my boots, and falling up the stairs as I clambered towards the deck, the idiots in the other room just kept on sleeping. They had indulged in enough rum to kill a horse that particular night, which I had managed to avoid by passing off as too young to drink. It wasn’t my smashing up onto deck that woke them, though, and it wasn’t my dragging my warhammer along with me. It was, in fact, the small explosion from below deck that reminded me just how unstable most bombs happened to be.

It was pretty much needless to say that I ended up diving off deck with a pack of angry Imperials right behind me.

Luckily, I’d made it into Reavstone with all my limbs still attached, and I was currently pressed up against a tiny hut, catching my breath. All right, then. Now I just had to get the bombs off of me while dodging the Imperials, find Goldbrand, a certain bloke that forged letters for the Varden, and then head north to Aberon for a break. Delivering messages wasn’t half as easy as most people thought it would be.

I glanced up at the sky and noted that it was now a very pale blue. In the east, the sun’s pre-glow was very clear. If I didn’t find Goldbrand today, I was going to be late, and King Orrin never appreciated it when his messengers were late. I reached into my pack and dragged out my puny map of Reavstone, which had been drawn by a particularly illiterate slave. I turned my head to follow the line that led from the northern road to a large square near the dock, not-so-skillfully labelled as ‘hiz hoosus iz heer’. Well, if I was going to find hiz hoosus, I would have to go now.

I trotted through the tiny streets that led between the houses, occasionally running into any peasants who did work at such an ungodly hour. However, several unpleasant run-ins with the Imperials and getting lost at least fifteen times had me running around until the sun had broken free of the horizon. The fact that I was having a heart attack from wondering if the bombs were going to go off every time I bumped into something didn’t help in the slightest.

After some time, I managed to find my way back to the dock. The sea was calming, and I relaxed when I saw the mass of blue water. The sun was already climbing into the sky, and I was late for Aberon. I glanced around, but couldn’t see any Imperials. I decided to step out into the open, and began to move towards the docks, constantly looking around.

A nearby shout almost made me jump out of my skin, and I turned to see one of the Imperials dragging the boat towards the dock. He was yelling at a man that hadn’t been on the boat, some over-muscled bloke built like a brick shìt house. Confused, the man tied the rope unskillfully around a peg, provoking the Imperial to storm towards him.

“No, no, no!” He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear, although I caught the word ‘Surdans’ on his lips. Then he yelled, “Don’t you know how to do a loop…?” He broke off when he saw me standing there. He clenched his jaw and turned towards me. Underneath his soggy, filthy coat, I could see his own set of bombs.

“You!” he exploded, and tore a knife out of a sheath at his belt. I barely had time to get my head down before he flung it at me. There was nothing that I would have loved more than taking out my hammer and smashing his skull to pieces, but I was a little nervous about the bombs. When the knife thudded into the sand a couple of metres behind me, he rushed at me, and I hurriedly backed up, snatching the knife in my hand when I passed it. I struggled to aim- it had been a long time since I had lost gone knife-throwing- and decided to go for his throat. I hurled the blade at him, and missed by a couple of centimetres. It thumped into his shoulder, and he fell to the ground with a strangled squawk. I staggered to keep my balance, and then approached him as he struggled to get up. Quickly, I tore the blade out of his shoulder and shoved it into the back of his neck, wincing with disgust as I was assailed by a stream of blood.

I glanced up, and remembered the brick-shìt-house bloke was still standing there.

“Ehh, sorry yeh had to see that, mate,” I said, hurriedly glancing around. Few people were around, though, and no screams of ‘MURDER!’ were assailing my ears, so all I had to worry about was the bloke. I stepped back, peering at him carefully. “Unfinished business and all that. The bludger had it comin’. I’d reckon a bloke o’ yer stature’d understand, though. We’re just apples, right?” I beamed at him, hoping he wouldn’t take it into his head to scream for the guards.

Words;; 1249
Muse;; GEWD
Thoughts;; Still rusty, but it's decent. Lol.[/size]

[Elanzaros]

Elaniver heard an angry shout from down by the boat. The man who had thrown him the line was running up to him, shouting something about not knowing how to tie a proper knot. Elaniver scowled at the man as he took over momentarily, letting the rope fall with an irritated expression on his face at this fisherman coming in and assuming that he was a man used to such things as sailing. He glanced the man up and down as he continued to tie up a proper knot and noticed something beneath his jacket. Curious now, Elaniver took a closer look. Surely not! Bombs? A suicide bomber or a bog standard saboteur, either way it was fairly evident that he was here to do harm to the Varden. Why else would you pull into Rinestone with so much firepower strapped to your torso? He crossed his arms, as he knew that he could easily get the man from here and spoke with a raised brow. “What do you plan on blowing up with that lot?” The man abruptly stopped his knot tying and seemed to be about to answer the big man before him, licking his lips nervously as the cogs turned in his brain.

He was saved the hassle of trying to make up a story however as his face suddenly went a blotchy red and he glared angrily at a point some way away from Elaniver’s shoulder. “You!” He shouted, Elaniver looked to where he was glaring and saw a loan woman standing in the middle of the road next to the port that was deserted. He frowned slightly as he was clearly un-informed in what was going on, his reverie was interrupted however as the man flew into his vision. Charging towards the girl with knife in hand. He watched as the girl killed the man and walked over to her, noticing that she also seemed to have bombs strapped to her.

He raised an eyebrow as she spoke and smiled slightly at her beam. It was as though she thought that he would suddenly attack her or shout for the guards to execute her on sight. Elaniver had no intention of doing either of those things as she had just killed a suicide bomber; the fact that she also had bombs was probably easily explainable. Just hard to explain when sober, maybe. “I think you had better explain why you have bombs strapped to you when you’re so close to the Varden.” He said with a raised eyebrow, his arms still crossed in front of his body as he surveyed the girl. The answer wouldn’t have been heard however as a group of very loud and particularly violent looking men rounded a corner behind her and stormed towards them. Elaniver quickly flicked up his war hammer from his belt and stepped around her and in front of her threateningly. “Well I’d take you over them any day,” he muttered before readying himself. He didn’t bother to count how many of them there were. That was irrelevant to him; all that mattered was exactly where he hit them. “They met the two people by the docks with shouts of fury and one of them in particular met Elanivers war hammer jaw first. The hammer jutted out to meet the mans jaw then simply kept on going, snapping the mans neck as it tried to carry on moving. Elaniver then swung his hammer across the floor in a wide ark across the floor. Most of them jumped but two weren’t quick enough, their shins giving way easily to the Dwarven lump of metal that smashed into them.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

The huge brick-shìt-house bloke, I had noticed, was so large that I was practically only up to his waist. He even wore his warhammer, which I glanced at with interest, on a strap at his belt rather than heaving it around on his back like I did with mine. I supposed he could have easily started a battle with me if he’d wanted to, and it definitely would be interesting to fight him. However, he didn’t exclaim or go wide-eyed or go mad as a cut snake, but instead just raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. It struck me that someone so big would probably have himself a nice position in the Varden ranks, or at least the Surdan ones. His next words only increased my suspicions that he was some kind of general.

“I think you had better explain why you have bombs strapped to you when you’re so close to the Varden,” he said calmly.
I rubbed my forehead with my hand before answering, but when I brought it down again I noticed that the fingerless glove on that hand was covered with blood. It was probably all over my face, too. Sticking my hands behind my back, I kept up my smile and just said, “Bit of a long story, mate. I'd reckon you’ve ain’t got the…”

I was forced to break off when a group of Imperial pigs suddenly came rushing around one of the buildings. I recognized their faces, all seven of them. They recognized me, as well- the poor little black boy who had wandered onto their ship.

“So, boy,” one of them growled at me, “you’re a Varden sympathizer after all.”
I smiled and adjusted my felt hat, careful that my orange braid wouldn’t flop out. It would ruin all the fun. “Well, what can I say, mate? It ain’t my fault yeh whackers spit a dummy at yer own idiocy. Lettin’ me in yer lil’ cult just ‘cuz I showed yous a pass?” Their faces turned a blotchy red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, yeh yobbos…” I broke off when the brick-shìt-house bloke said something. “What?” I asked, but he charged at the Imperials before I could get an answer. The seven of them immediately leapt into action, screeching loud curses as they started unsheathing their swords.

Two leapt at me, and I quickly backed up, grabbing the haft of my hammer with both hands and swinging it up out of its strap. I kept the swing going, and hit one in the side of the skull, smashing it to bits and covering my hammer with bits of brain and bone. As he fell, I swung it again, this time up toward the second one’s chin, but he dodged by backing up, and then jumped forward again, thinking I would swing too slowly for him to get hit. With a grunt, I swung the hammer around and jumped at the same time I brought it down, smashing it onto the Imperial’s head. He stayed standing, though, oddly, for about three seconds, his eyes blank, and his mouth hanging open. Then he fell with a crash.

I glanced at the brick-shìt-house bloke, who I was really getting tired of just calling the brick-shìt-house bloke, who had locked that beaut of a warhammer right into one’s jaw, cracking his neck, while two more got their knees busted by a wide swing. That left two still on their feet. One charged at the BSH bloke while the other went for me, raising his hand-and-a-half sword to bring it down onto my head. I waited for the blow to come. When the sword came down, I brought up my hammer to meet it, deflecting it off the steel head. Then I jabbed straight at the Imperial’s chest, smashing ribs and internal organs and, eventually, his heart. He dropped just like the rest of them had.

I peered at the two who’d gotten their knees ruined, one lying on the ground in excruciating pain and the other vainly trying to get up. I almost felt bad for them. The knees were definitely the worst place to get hit. Seeing that neither of them posed any real danger, I looked over at the BSH bloke again, wondering how he was doing with his own Imp toy.

Words;; 719
Muse;; Bad.
Thoughts;; Ugh. Not in a good mood. XP[/size]

[Elanzaros]

Elaniver saw the last man charge towards him and belted his war hammer back in its original place. He glared at the man and as he swung his sword downwards he simply moved side ways watching the blades path as it swung into the floor. He didn’t bother performing anything fancy he simply jabbed his thumb into the mans eye. The man howled in pain and his hand flew up to his face, before one of them swiped at the air trying to find and hit Elaniver back. Elaniver drew back a fist, knowing full well that the man was pretty much defenceless now. He let the punch fly and scowled as it connected squarely with the mans mouth. His head flew back and a tooth flew further before he collapsed backwards onto the floor. Elaniver looked down at his fist and blew across the top as one would with a smoking gun, a satisfied expression on his face.

“Oh that’s why.” He said as he had heard the girl’s words before engaging with the men. He looked around at them and noticed that they all seemed to have bombs strapped to them. Elaniver didn’t like the idea of trying to remove them for fear of accidentally setting one off. He therefore compromised by picking them all up, two by two and unceremoniously dumping them over the side of the harbour and into the water. Watching each time to make sure that they stared to move with the water. On one occasion one of them failed to drift along with the water and so Elaniver dropped down and grabbed the man by the belt and the hair to sling him further into the water. Watching his trajectory until he splashed into the water and flowed down with the current.

He walked back over to the girl with a satisfied expression on his face as he let a small smile escape from one corner of his mouth. “Do you have a name then?” He asked curiously, wondering who he had just possibly saved from being cut to ribbons and aimed to find out how to remove her bombs. “There will be someone in Aberon who can deal with that.” He said vaguely waving a hand at the bombs strapped to her torso. “In the meantime however if you start ticking please do me a favour and run away.” He made a point of saying this as he had no intentions of being blown to pieces, he had never really envisioned his death as being death by random girl with bombs strapped to her.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

I watched with interest as the last man, howling, ran right at the BSH bloke. Instead of letting him run himself into the back of the hammer’s head, like I would have done with my own, the bloke just slipped it back into his belt and knocked the bludger out with an eye poke and then a powerful punch that would have made even Skaleel think twice about getting into a fight with him. I watched the Imperial drop to the floor with a sickening crunch, his head lolling at an unnatural angle. I nudged it with my boot, not sure if he was dead or just in a coma. Then, the BSH bloke proceeded to get rid of the bodies by dumping them into the water, much as one would do with the weekly garbage. He even jumped into the water to make sure they drifted off properly. When he got out, soaked through, I looked at his handiwork critically.

“Ripper job, mate,” I said when the last of the bodies disappeared underwater. “Reckon they’ll be back when the tide rolls in, though. We’d best not be within cooee of it when it does.”

The bloke walked back toward me, seeming satisfied with himself. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be too big a danger to me, I let myself get a better look at him. He was probably my age, although it was hard to tell by his enormous size. And from the looks of him, he’d been in more fights than most people saw in their whole lives, although I wanted to test it out in a mock battle with him myself before I decided on that. Most of those muscled types usually turned out to be paper tigers, after all. And, from the looks he was giving the bombs, he wasn’t too willing on getting too close to me right now. After a moment, I realized he’d spoken to me while I’d been scrutinizing him. I blinked, registering what he’d just said, and frowned deeply when he mentioned the bombs, not pleased at his poking fun at them.

“Now look, sunshine, it ain’t my fault I got tied up with this bull!” I yanked at one end of the strap and waved it at him. “If I do go off, I’ll blow up wherever I please.” I prepared to flip my hammer back into the strap on my back, but then noticed the large amount of blood on it, including brains and fragments of skull. I glanced down at the sand and noticed that it, too, was peppered with bits of human. “But first, let’s shoot. Don’t wanna be around when the guard shows up.”

I turned on my heel and trotted back towards the buildings, not bothering to wait for the BSH bloke. And after a moment, I heard the scuff of his boots on sand, and then stone as he followed. He was clearly interested in socializing, or maybe just curious as to what I was doing. Either way, I doubted I would be able to shake him off. Hopefully, Goldbrand wouldn’t mind me dragging along another Varden warrior. At least, I hoped he was, or at least Surdan. I glanced back at him suspiciously as he strode after me, and then remembered he’d asked me my name.

“Oh, and it’s Ramsey, mate. Nemo Ramsey.”

I didn’t worry about giving people my last name anymore, which was a relief, since I was more used to being called ‘Mr. Ramsey’ rather than Nemo. I didn’t even know if he knew I was a woman, since he hadn’t done anything to indicate it. Anyway, I had passed from infamy long ago when the news of my feared crew’s death had spread throughout Alagaësia. So, I seriously doubted his eyes would light up at my name, followed by him screaming, “PIRATE!” I really didn’t need that, especially since he hardly had any reason to trust me yet.

I casually brushed at the gore on the head of my hammer, and after a moment called back, “What’s yours?”

Words;; 688
Muse;; YUCKYYYYYYYYY
Thoughts;; Stress... killing... muse...[/size]

[Elanzaros]

Elaniver simply raised an eyebrow at this kids response. This was a bloke who seemed to give off the impression of not really caring too much about what happened to other people so long as he was ok. If he couldn’t be ok, well then he might as well take a few people with him. “If you try and blow up near me then I’ll make sure you don’t have a jaw before you try and leap in several directions at once.” He said in a matter of fact tone. He would make sure of that too. He had no intentions of being blown up by some selfish bloke who didn’t have the grace to leap 200ft into the air somewhere other than where Elaniver was standing. If he had to however, he would make sure that the part that could be distinguished as a jawbone flew further than the rest of the boy.

He watched the boy turn and walk away from him and sighed. He supposed that he had better make sure that this guy wasn’t about to blow up the Varden. He didn’t seem as though he would. But then you couldn’t be too careful after all. He started to walk after him, trusting that his sheer size would compensate for not bothering to jog as he was. It was paying off rather well as he wasn’t catching up with him, just maintaining the distance. Which he supposed was a good thing. He didn’t mind being within the distance of catching an organ in the face, but he did mind his organs joining in the shower of his. He heard the boys name and smiled. This kid seemed intent on at least getting along with Elaniver. Fine that suited Elaniver. He would much rather be blown up by a friend than an enemy. He wasn’t so sure about smashing the face of a friend however.

“Elaniver Addrodoc.” He replied to his question with a smile as he reflected on his attitude towards names sometimes. During battles for example. He merely called people whatever popped into his head. If their name was memorable then he would use it. If he had to try and remember what the hell his companion’s names were however he would simply rename then before the battle. Some of them seemed rather indignant of their new names. Of course the names did vary. Most seemed to want macho names such as ‘Reaper’ or ‘Death’. When Elaniver informed them that he would be calling them by names such as ‘tree’ and on one occasion ’TP’ (an abbreviation to make it simpler, some indication as to what the second word may be can be found in the first word being ‘Total’), it didn’t seem to go down well. However they had all survived those battles. Simply because Elaniver didn’t have to pause to remember the people’s names.

Luckily this kids name was fairly easy. ‘Nemo’, nice and to the point. No chance of forgetting it due to the uniqueness of it. That was what he liked about his own name. You wouldn’t forget such a name as ‘Elaniver’ now would you? The name Nemo did however stir something in Elaniver’s memory. Someone named Nemo had been part of a rather infamous crew of pirates. All of who’d had been supposedly slaughtered. “I thought all you lot were dead.” He said simply. To him pirates were fairly harmless. Just focused on stealing as far as he could tell. With the mentality that if there was something in their way then they might as well kill it as that would simply be quicker than threatening the obstacle and having to offer it counselling for the experience. “I should tell you as a warrior of the Varden that if you’re planning on nicking anything from us then I have every duty to bury my fist in your skull, kid.” He said with an almost pleasant look on his face as he spoke in a good-natured tone.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

The bloke, I’d noticed, kept calling me ‘kid’. That was probably due to my voice- it was deep for a woman, but not high enough that I sounded like a grown man. And my face, which could be described as handsome rather than pretty, just made me seem even more boyish. So, he did think I was a boy. I always found it amusing. Before, it had been necessary to disguise myself- both Imperial and Varden soldiers had always been on the lookout for the infamous crew of Queen’s Avarice. Now, it was just a hobby.

The brick-shiŧ-house bloke then finally gave me his name, so I wouldn’t have to keep referring to him as a brick-shiŧ-house bloke anymore. Elaniver Addrodoc. I rolled the name around in my mouth. It was a long name. I would just stick with calling him Elan. When I’d first been dragged onto a pirate ship as a little girl, nobody had been able to pronounce Mnemosyne Cecilia Ramsey. And so I’d been christened with ‘Nemo’ instead, and I liked it much better, anyway. I didn’t answer Elan, though, because I was too busy trying to scratch some brains out of a dent in my hammer. I was going to have to bang out all the breaks in the head when I got back to Aberon. It was going to break if I didn’t. However, the next thing that Elan said made me freeze in my tracks.

“I thought all you lot were dead.”

It could have meant anything, really. He could have mistaken me for another Ramsey, in another group. It was a rather popular last name. But something in the way he said it made a rare chill creep down my back. Dead. Yes, a whole bunch of us were dead, and I only knew of a few who had survived besides me- Benoit from the south, where they spoke a funny language called français, and Fatoush and Braheem from the far eastern deserts. Everyone else, including Cap’n McCarthy, though, were sleeping with the fishes. The sudden memory of it jarred me. I’d been so bent on my work for the Varden in trying to forget about that awful day that I hadn’t thought about it for some time. It made me feel strange. Weak. I hated feeling weak. The next thing he said made me round on him, my fury mounting when I saw the smug expression on my face.

“Now look here, yeh whinging bastard! Pirates ain’t thieves! We’re just tryin’ to make a fecking living, just like you! Just because you’re a bloody digger and built like a brick shiŧ house doesn’t mean you can carry yerself around like a goddam king!” I started to turn away, but then decided to add, “And for your fecking information, I’m the Varden’s delivery boy. So let me do my goddam job!”

Then I turned on my heel and stomped off down the alley, quite intent on leaving him far behind. The nerve of him! Had I been back on the ship, with the authority of first mate, over-muscled bastard or not, I would have given him the bashing of a lifetime. Not for the first time, I really missed being in a position of authority. Unfortunately, the fact that my pirates had pillaged the Varden and Surda just as much as we had the Empire, had put me in an awkward position. I was supposed to consider it a gift that they had finally decided to put me in the oh-so-holy position as one the Varden’s messengers. Truthfully, I would have better enjoyed a job collecting cow turds for fertilizer. Dragging my arse across the Empire like this was going to kill me sooner than later.

I left the alley and found myself one on of the large dirt roads that were comically passed off as streets in this godforsaken little village, right around where Goldbrand’s house was supposed to be. If I didn’t get the letter to him, I was likely going to get demoted to trash sweeper. I yanked the map out of my pocket and looked at it again. A badly drawn line looped down the very road I was standing on, to end at a tiny square about thirty feet from where I was. I slid my hammer back into the strap on my back, and tried to brush the gore off my front as best as I could as I walked up to the shack. It was a squallid little thing, made entirely out of straw and driftwood and squatting awkwardly in the mud. For a master forager, the guy sure knew how to live humbly. I went up the steps leading to the door and knocked sharply. An elderly woman answered, dressed in a dirty lavender peasant skirt, a lavender tunic, lavender stockings, and a lavender sun hat. She even smelled like lavender. Glaring at me through her white eyelashes and turning up her nose, she eyed the bombs strapped around my body and at the gore on my face. She folded her arms, apparently waiting for an explanation.

“Morning, ma’am,” I said hurriedly, not really in a conversational mood. I tried to bite back snapping at her. “I need to speak to Goldbrand.”
She scowled through her massive forehead wrinkles, and stuck up her nose even higher, if that was possible. Then she said in an amusingly high voice, “Rather early to be paying visits, isn’t it? That moron lives in the house across, not here. Good day to you, sir.”

I barely got my nose out of the way in time when she slammed the door in my face, and doing so nearly made me fall backwards off the steps. I grabbed my nose, feeling like yelling after her, but the letter was more important. Still, the crabby old lady was awfully snobby for someone who lived in a puny fishing town. I looked at the map in my hands again. It said that Goldbrand lived here. When I got my hands on that slave, I was going to strangle the hell out of him, Surdan human rights or not. I crumpled up the map and threw it into the mud with a disgusted grunt, then glanced behind me when someone called my name. It was Elaniver. I turned to face him, squaring my shoulders. He was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at me with that smug look still on his face.

“What do ya want now?” I snapped.

Words;; 1089
Muse;; YEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Thoughts;; IT ACTUALLY SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRBLAH

[Elanzaros]

Elaniver raised his eyebrows in amusement as the kid laid into him, admittedly she was making all the difference of a nat after a particularly hard day, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. Her determination to state that pirates didn’t steal things was rather incredible, there was of course the obvious fact that they did. That was how they made their living and Elaniver didn’t have anything against that what so ever provided that they didn’t nick anything that was his. So he continued to look rather amused at her as she let loose a diatribe of insults at him. The sort of thing that you would see between a married couple when the woman is angry and the husband is far too busy thinking to be bothered to listen. It was a sad but frequent sight.

He interrupted slightly after she spoke about just trying to earn a living, “by stealing things and sometimes kidnapping people.” He listened for a while after that, he wasn’t all that sure about carrying himself like a king. He had always thought that being a king would be a rather dull job, the idea of having to set an example all the time was simply dreadful to Elaniver. He would much rather do whatever the hell he wanted than have to run a whole country or whatever. He was about to state this still with an amused expression on his face but he was cut off as the kid turned on his heel and left.

He followed the boy with a slightly incredulous smile on his face, watching him from behind as he knocked on the door of someone who definitely didn’t look like they were in league with anyone. In fact they had the distinct look of someone who had lived there for yeas and was going to remain there for years no matter who happened to waltz in and take over. This looked like a woman who had definitely lived through several wars in her time and had correctly predicted the outcome of each one like someone shouting at the TV when a quiz show is on.

As the door swung back unceremoniously into Nemo’s nose and he turned around to have another small go at Elaniver. He quietly looked up at the angry kid who still remained up the stairs to the front door of the aged woman. “For a Varden messenger I would have expected the ability to tell which side of the bloody street your contact is on would be rather high up on the qualification list.” He raised an eyebrow slightly and started to walk up towards the kid, his eyes darkening slightly as his full bulk cast a large shadow over the boy as he approached him. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that. Your right I’m probably not much better than you, but I do happen to be better at my job, fighting. Its something ive sort of grown up doing. I don’t carry myself like a king and despite being built like a brick shit house that does have the advantage of being able to snap you.” He said in a slight growl as he got right up close to the boy, “so for your information I am gonna make your job easier, I’m gonna deliver you to your contact.” With that he grabbed the boy with surprising speed and effortlessly hauled him over his shoulder, carrying him back down the stairs and over the road.

Now in Elaniver’s view you should always leave people on a good note, this is why he kept to that motto. He pulled the kid off of his shoulder and dangled him in front of him by the scruff of his shirt. “I hope we can be friends in the very near future.” With that he knocked twice on the door of the contact and shouted, “Here’s your bloody delivery!” Throwing the boy straight through the door with the arm holding him by the scruff.