“Piss off Sandi, you yellow-haired shite!” A large shadowy form came up the road, and into the torchlight.
Upon a old black mare, sat a great stack of bulbous black armor. Black plate led to black greaves, black chausses, a kettle of a black breastplate, gauntlets, pauldrons, vambraces, gorget, and a smokestack of a great black helm.
Bowstrings went limp, crossbows lowered, and more than a few curses and smirks circled the battleground.
“Damn you, and that thick skull of yours,” An armored hand raised the visor on the helm revealing a red face, on its way to purple, half covered with a bushy grey mustache and a pair of bulbous blue eyes.
“You think you’re wise-cracks wouldn’t hit home with Dinny or Derry before one o’ them hit me with an arrow?”
The twins still had knocked arrows in their bows, Dinny actually with two on his longbow Lela's bowstring.
“Aye, but would you have felt it without seeing it stickin’ out of your thick coiting hide Stewpot?” Asked Derry, who elbowed his brother and spit on the road at the rotund horseman.
The Kol’kuun twins were nearly indistinguishable. Same black leathers, same smile, same sneer, same dark eyed ferrety faces, same rusty red hair shaved near to the skull on the sides, and topped with a tight braid that ended mid back.
Only difference was Derry was missing his index finger and thumb on his right hand, a leather glove with a slightly hooked metal finger replacing the index spot allowed him to still draw a bowstring. Dinny, on the other hand, was missing his throat, or at least some of it. Enough of it, anyway, that a bear took with him after a tussle that left the man on his back in a bed for a month. Afterwards he was a little less inclined to speak, and even less inclined to meet another bear.
Dinny spoke a raspy whisper back to his brother and the two had a good laugh before receiving a quieting look, not only from the big man, but also from Beldan.
“Jodfrey, what news? Does our cargo ‘ave a port o’ call?” Beldan inclined his head towards the wagon behind him. He wound up his weapon and resecured the bladed hilt back on the handle before harnessing it to his hip.
The man hopped off his mare gracefully, despite his size, and removed his helm. The bald head was all that was left to make this man a close relative of a walrus. He motioned for Beldan to step away from the prison cart.
His waddle was, in fact, a limp from an old injury. Jodfey was, in another life, Captian Jodfrey Banon, Lord of the Ebondowns. A name that he was given after his heroic feats during the Battle of the Bloody Flats. Truth be told, he was not really a Lord, though you wouldn’t be able to tell by talking to him, and had suffered no heroic deeds to speak of. Unless steering your horse into a spearhead and being too stubborn to die when it rolled you deserved a bard’s tale. But Jodfrey was far cleverer than he looked, and he had quite a talent for tall tales. After a few carefully worded stories he found himself in the courtliest of companies. Unfortunately, his silver tongue only took him so far and after he got chased out of all his fancy parties, the only real memento of high society he escaped with was the higher price tag for his all too powerful love of drink.
Jodfrey took a small flask from his helm and unstopped the cork. A viscous umber liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he took a quick swig.
“I have much to tell, and little of it good.” He said as he took another drink, “First the girl. Not a noble, I’m sorry to report.”
You don’t say, Beldan rolled his eyes, and waved for him to continue.
“If all the tittering from the merchant’s guild holds any weight, then she is Alina do’rr Davaean, daughter of Lucc Davaean, who looks to be a banker, of sorts. At least that’s what the sign swinging above his door in Port Lairdcrest says. Whispers says his real wealth comes from a bit of shady trading down aways in White Wind. Trading with…Southerners.”
Ah. Beldan thought, and there it was. This chap was doing something that, up until a score of years ago, had too much competition to allow one to effectively shift his social standing. After the King used his navy to establish a trade blockade, official channels got tight and expensive. Now a shrewd merchant with a fast vessel and an indifference for the rule of law could move any desirables down into the neighboring nation of Salsarr and earn more than a few gold drachin to rub together.


“Wonder if she knows of Daddy’s night shift?” Beldan scratched at his stubble and looked towards the bundle in the wagon.
“I suppose that remains to be seen. But she’s working for him, none the less. Best I can figure, she was on route with her wagon load southward to meet up with her father in White Wind. So, if you’re still looking to haggle, it looks like that’s our destination. But the plot gets thicker from here” The walrus said quietly.
“Lairdcrest was near empty as I rode through its muddy streets. Shops abandoned. Blacksmiths and their wares are gone. The town guard running a skeleton crew. Damn near every ship in the harbor is missing. Mostly just desperate merchants who can’t lose their next cart full of goods.”

“Gone where?”

“Looks to be anywhere but south!” He said, throwing his hands in the air, “Signal gulls flew in from the Salsarri border at Southgate baring warning of ships coming up along the coastline. A lot of ships. If the gulls made it all the way up from Southgate, boats can’t be more than a few days sail away from White Wind.” The old knight arched his eyebrows high, “I don’t think they mean to barter.”
“Raiders come up from Salsarr, you reckon?”
Jodfrey placed the stopper back in the bottle, and shook his head, “Not likely. Come from the wrong side of the blockade. Can’t imagine a bundle of cutthroats punching through the royal navy with their numbers intact. Besides, word among what’s left of the knock-kneed town guards’ that a fair number of the ships are Steamers.”
“Mjardi Holdfast? What are they playing at?” Beldan gazed into the flames of a nearby torch, searching for answers. The holdfast started as an impromptu military fortification that paralleled Southgate on the west bank of the Sea of Swells. By some mixture of location and circumstance it became host to all manner of alchemists and mechanical sorcerers plying their curious trade. Now a year doesn’t go by without some curious steam spouting contraption sputtering its way into the wider world. As clever as they may be, the Mjardi have never been known to make overt plays like this.
Jodfrey shook his head, his jowels shaking in time, “Regardless, We have to make a play and make it fast. What are we to care of who is killing who?” He waved his gauntleted hand dismissively, “Way I see it, we have two choices, East or South.”
Beldan blew out a heavy breath, “East to the Sogs, where we fence, wait, and drink to the coitin’ rains…” He smiled weakly.
The round man nodded, “Or we head South and ride hard for White Wind. We have a day’s lead, if the weather is with us—"
“—and daddy will pay double for his daughter’s safe return with his back against the barrel.” Beldan smirked.


“Aye,” Jodfrey grumbled, “assuming he isn’t the sort to leave his daughter spinning in the wind.”
They paused and the older man waited for some hint from the leader of their little band. The men around them had been inching closer and closer to the two as they spoke, curious as to what was to come.
Beldan turned back towards the wagon and saw Red staring at him through her prison bars. Her eyes glittering in the dancing fire light. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but he swears he saw her smile. He grinned and baulked at the darkness.
The walrus blew out his whiskers and nodded agreement.
“Aye, South.”


[more to come in part 4. please leave feedback . thanks!!]
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