Boons of Wealth and Spirit
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
It is rather fortunate that the fey have a far higher tolerance for strong drink than their often delicate frames would have it, otherwise you never would have gotten a chance to speak to Moonsong with all the drinking she has been doing in between other celebratory activities. By contrast the Greyjoy siblings are more reserved in your presence, but then unlike Moonsong they have at last some understanding of the gravity usually reserved for royal audiences.
Of course whatever bruises might have been inflicted upon your pride are quickly soothed by the sound of a heavy chest filled with clinking gold striking the stone floor. "Here's the boring stuff," Moonsong airily introduces a great lord's ransom in plunder. "The
I'qor don't have much use for shinny things." The strange word is low and guttural most unlike her usual tones. "They even blackened all the weapons I handed them as their share."
Gained 5890 Gold
"Who?" you ask, not that the fey captain needs much encouragement.
"Most here call them the Brindled Men, don't know why myself, you have just as many hairs as they do, yours are just shorter," she replies. Seeing that she is not about to get any sort of interesting reaction beyond a raised eyebrow she continues with the tale of how she searched the Basilisk Isles for an anchorage... that is an anchorage with a port already built to conquer.
That is about when you realized that sending Moonsong to do anything covert is much like sending a fire-ship at the fore of a surprise night attack. There is not really much point in being upset with her over it, but you still explain your reasoning for wishing a secret base. At the very least the two Greyjoys should be able to learn from the failings of even the most successful of raids which this had undoubtedly been. Using primitive allies she could barely talk to and sailors wholly unprepared for the task to take a fort by storm is no small feat, even considering the simple magics at her disposal.
"I think there may be some sort of sorcerer down there, though," she adds. "Maybe one of the other pirate lords, or maybe something in the jungle that just wants to be left alone... old things get cranky like that."
Theon seems to have had enough of the meandering of his captain, or perhaps he wants his own sliver of attention. "There was a storm on the way back, came out of nowhere or near enough. The waves almost rolled right over the ship a dozen times or more. We lost more men to that than the pirates, but we pulled through in the end and even got something out of it, besides our lives that is..."
"There were things in the water and the air... things
of water and air," Asha picks up the tale. "Don't rightly know what that means, but you could cut them with an axe right enough so we fought 'em off. Then as the rains were clearing they started getting smaller weaker. Felt almost unfair to kill 'em, really."
"Don't make it sound like it was your idea," her brother interrupts.
"What idea?" you ask, though you already have an inkling.
"I called for them to cast themselves upon my mercy," Moonsong says grandly. "For surely their last lord had used them ill." With a flourish like a street conjurer she produces her rapier, the blade hissing with faint power of enchantment that had not been there before, then to your surprise a spiritling draws itself from the blade: a lizard, no a
salamander whose body is living water hovers in the center of the room and burbles something in the primal tongue of that element.
An ephemeral sort of thing it seems to you, a creature that needs an anchor to endure upon this world. Fortunate, perhaps, that it had found itself facing one of the fey who so love to strike deals. "How many of these creatures did you bargain with and what were the terms?" you ask.
"Seven years of service to those who most distinguished themselves in the fighting, including myself," the sprite replied. "It seemed a fitting thing for they were seven in all."
Curiously you look to Theron and Asha. The latter smirks: "I got one, Theon didn't."
"You try shooting a bow through pouring rain and gusting wind with the ship swaying like a sailor three days ashore," the boy grumbles.
What do you do?
[] Ask Moonsong more questions
-[] Write in
[] Speak privately with Asha
-[] Write in
[] Speak privately with Theon
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: I wanted to make the fight against the storm an interlude, but there was simply no time, with all the other stuff.
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