Where the Sky Ends - Malakai Stormwind

Character Biographies, Journals, and Stories

Moderators: Moderator, DM

Post Reply
User avatar
Whirlwind
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 14, 2020 12:18 pm
Location: England

Where the Sky Ends - Malakai Stormwind

Unread post by Whirlwind »

In his dreams...

Image


~ Transcript ~

Hidden: show
Image
In his dreams...
In his dreams he soared through an endless sky...
Even as he lacked for wings... Unbound...
Free...
All the realms spread below him...
The gleam of the endless horizon was calling...
And all around the rushing winds...
Image
~ Malakai Stormwind - Blade of the Winds ~
Androoh | GMT +0 | Retired
User avatar
Whirlwind
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 14, 2020 12:18 pm
Location: England

Re: Where the Sky Ends - Malakai Stormwind

Unread post by Whirlwind »

Maiden's Kiss...


1357 DR, Town of Greenest in the Western Heartlands, Shrine of Shaundakul:


Image




He dozed near his grandfather's seat trying to sleep off a fierce hangover.

Even as a faint whispering breeze caressed his face, the jarring brightness of the morning and distant busy din of the town worked to stir him awake, assailing his senses with the distant demands of the day to unfold. So too the cold ground greeted his back with a sore reminder that the boundless sky in his dreams was ever more beyond reach.

Too much maiden's kiss last night... he mused irritably.

The cloying sweetness of the brandy clung to the roof of his mouth and it's effects had clearly not worn off.

His head swam with the shifting faces of laughing beauties he'd met in taverns and summer fairs, coalescing, more or less into hers... No smile clung to her scarlet lips however.

As he came to his senses, the mental picture of her features faded leaving only her eyes stained into the throbbing darkness of his mind. Sad, staring eyes.

Sitting up and nursing his head, he pondered only briefly where she might be nowadays.

Waterdeep, maybe Yartar or even Everlund... he thought, sighing sadly. She was long gone though along with all her many secrets.

He tried remembering the feeling of her lips on his before their last goodbye.

In his groggy state he briefly pondered the others. Harbek the dwarf had returned to Mirabar with his clan records. Vardis was definitely back in Waterdeep in his dusty library and had likely given up on adventuring now.

Victor was there too - waiting in his tower with his duty and disapproving silences. An image of the old man's face flashed through his mind for a moment from their last meeting - He had understood but would he ever approve?

And what of the traveler? What would she say?

He could almost hear her strange voice in his mind.

"The past is an anchor tethered to your ankle. Fate is a wind swelling your sails, sa'luk."

He didn't like all this dwelling on the past and resolved not to drink for a month - a rule he knew he'd likely break at some point.

The only thing he desired more than anything in the realms right now was a hot mug of Sayushi's kaeth.
Last edited by Whirlwind on Wed Nov 24, 2021 9:30 am, edited 10 times in total.
~ Malakai Stormwind - Blade of the Winds ~
Androoh | GMT +0 | Retired
User avatar
Whirlwind
Posts: 60
Joined: Sat Nov 14, 2020 12:18 pm
Location: England

Re: Where the Sky Ends - Malakai Stormwind

Unread post by Whirlwind »

Malakai of the winds... (Part 1)


1349 DR, Outskirts of the King's Forest, south of Arabel in Cormyr:


Image


It was either during the sunrise before their wagons set off or late in the evening before they took inventory of their cargo did Alejandro teach them swordplay. They had been using a remote clearing on the borders of the King's Forest for the good part of a month and he had found himself enjoying this part of the day the most.

He knew that it was against the laws of Cormyr for commoners and merchants to wield weapons that weren't bonded with peace strings so Serrano had taken measures to carry these lessons out where the purple dragon knights or other agents of the crown were unlikely to patrol. There was always a measure of risk but the old Amnian had proven silver tongued in getting others to see his way, so the prospect of being chastised or told to refrain from such actions didn't appear to phase him one bit.

And it had yet to happen during the four years he'd been working for him. Most of these incidents were relayed to him by others in Serrano's employ though largely by his training partner and fellow caravan guard, a young man called Padrin who enjoyed embellishing details of these encounters.

Padrin was a willowy man of Chondathan stock with laughing green eyes who hailed from Deepingdale. Though older than him by three years he felt like he was swiftly catching up to him despite the extra years of training he'd received. Their sparring usually always went in Padrin's favour though due to his uncanny patience though Padrin genuinely seemed grateful for the challenge he provided.

Alejandro and his grizzled wagon driver, Franklin would observe from a small table and set of stools they'd set up by the side of the caravan, drinking spiced wine from pewter mugs and playing hands of cards, occasionally either man would stand up to provide some observation or correct some aspect of a stance or movement.

It was an evening much like any other in this regard though in recent times, Alejandro had allowed his pupils to practice drills and sparring with metal blades in the last few months, blunted however to minimise the chance of real injury.

"What is this now?" mused a voice in the refined stylings that could only belong to one of Cormyr's numerous high-born lords.

The words spoken came from beyond the entrance to the clearing they practiced the swordplay and was joined by the sound of hooves clomping in the mudded ground and whinnying on their approach. No sooner heard did the presence of this young nobleman become palpable to their gathering did the clang and clash of their blades fall silent.

So much for our quiet practice he thought to himself irritably, warily pulling the hood of his cloak over his head to obstruct something of what he was. Thanks to his strange nature, his eyesight was sharp enough for for him to clearly pick them all out in the muted light.

The man's clothing was of matching refinement to his voice, the stylings of Arabel's moneyed families and he seemed to wear them proudly. The four men to his flank on horseback were less grandiose in their appearance and looked like seasoned guardsmen wearing dark grey surcoats over chain hauberks, all older than their lord by at least a decade or two and each with the kite shaped sigil on their left breast showing a silver watch tower with the top portion wreathed in flame and beneath the tower, a brass key presented horizontally. All of the men wore half-helms and plain-looking arming swords and daggers cinched to their waists.

The young lord might have been handsome if not for his prominent aquiline nose and widows peak of ink-black hair giving him a severe aspect. His attire consisted of a brown furred mantle of wolf or bear skin fastened with a brass chain over a stylish silver-grey doublet. The doublet sported a larger, better detailed version of the emblem upon his breast, with the ensemble completed by leather jodhpur style pants and finely made knee-high doe-skin boots, fastened with polished silver buckles. His fingers bore various gem-set rings and his haughty, solid looking steed looked to be a Cormyrean destrier from the finest stock. At his waist was sheathed a slender looking blade with a box style hilt, typical of the sort used in Sembia.

The noble slaked his thirst, swigging from a wineskin whilst staring around with almost lazy disinterest. The guards to accompany him soon fell behind him, two on either side. Screwing the stopper in place, he tossed the skin toward one of his guards who caught it deftly.

Though he cared little to remember such details, he recognised the emblem they wore as belonging to the Torchtower family who had holdings in the city of Suzail. Old Franklin had drummed the details of the noble families and their heraldic sigils into his head during their expeditions, but the brass key element was unfamiliar to him and he pondered if they were members of some cadet branch.

"Commoners fighting with bare steel... Don't the bards write enough plays for you people about this... This absurd foolishness?" Enquired the lord in a lightly flustered tone.

Alejandro stood up crisply, spitting the stub of his cigar out and crushing it under heel whilst smoothing out the creases of his scarf. He turned toward him and the others, a forefinger pressed to his lips as a request for their silence before bowing his head with practiced respect to the mounted noble.

"We are honoured by your presence, my young lord... Forgive all of this, we are simple merchants and so the odd bit of quiet sword practice is but confidence for the roads should..." if he had seemed serious during his instruction for their silence, he was now all of a sudden, jovial and welcoming in his tone. The change in manner and deference to the noble was uncannily swift.

"Should what? ... You feel the purple dragon knights of Cormyr are not fit to protect them?" The voice countered, quickly cutting off Serrano with amused haughtiness. There was only the merest hint of irritation to it but no outright hostility.

Even from where he stood he could hear old Serrano draw in a long, slow breath as if to calm himself?

Doubtful... Nothing phases you, old man... he pondered silently, watching the exchange with his blade lowered by his side.

"Meaning no disrespect my gallant lord, but we seek not to divert the attentions and more pressing duties of the knights with our troubles... Forgive my saying to, but I am of Amnian blood so... So..." Serrano seemed as if he was deliberately baiting the lord into asking.

"So what... Do not ramble now, merchant" The young noble answered snappily.

"Well now..." Serrano replied. If he seemed flustered for a moment, his cool, amiable tone returned quickly as ever.

He was never impressed with the accounts of Alejandro's politeness when it came to dealing with the so-called high-born, but now seeing it firsthand he found himself baffled with the Amnian's ability to ease the tension out of the interaction so far. He knew too that old Serrano was too good a blade for his diplomacy to be a one-sided courtesy if the idiot on the horse made the mistake of trying to teaching him a lesson in swordplay.

But it had never come to that according to Padrin's tales, as much as he imagined how old Serrano might perform if the peace strings on his main blade ever became severed.

Alejandro cleared his throat, speaking up clearly as the the light of the rising sun filtering through the trees of the clearing painted his mottled bald head and kindly features in an amber tone.

"The merchants in Amn, especially those like myself from Crimmor, as a mark of extra, ah... efficiency, We... How shall I say? Well... We take measures to defend ourselves. We do not have your brave knights back in my homeland to readily protect us."

The young man idly curled his finger through a loose tuft of a brown furred mantle worn over his shoulders and exhaled whilst listening to the old merchant speak. It might seem that Alejandro's respectful manner was working but it was too early to know.

His retinue of guards were all silent, but the oldest of them had turned his gaze upon him away from Serrano, lifting the visor of his helm up to get a better look at him even with his head bowed and his hood concealing the loose bangs of his blue-ish hair.

"Forgive my interruption, lord Torchtower..." The voice of a man to the noble lord's right spoke up in a humourless yet firm tone, approaching from the flank.

To his right he caught a glimpse of Padrin's sidelong glance at him. His friend had his head lowered too and looked nervous. He nodded back to him before daring to look directly at the young lord with confident defiance. It was during moment could he feel the weight of their collective gazes upon him causing the other guards to lift their visors too to all gawk at him together.

Out of the corner of his eye he could also see the old Amnian merchant set his jaw and clench the hand hanging loosely at his side into a fist, their knuckles turning white against the brown, mottled flesh. Alejandro's jovial, calm facade seemed only to falter slightly once more, though more pronounceably than earlier.

"Again, forgive me, my lord and your fine company here... This one is..."

For once the lord and his men didn't seek to cut Alejandro off, allowing the old merchant to continue.

"The boy here is a worker in my employ... And ah, as you can see... of curious, exotic nature."

"That one is a... Genasi my lord." remarked the oldest of the guards, regarding him with a scarred and sterner countenance than his young lord who in turn seemed curious but unimpressed. The old guard spoke up in a booming, firm voice, the sort of voice used to belting out commands to soldiers across a battlefield.

"Before you is Lord Eskandar Torchtower, you are advised to lower your gaze and show respect to your betters, genasi."

Lord Eskandar raised a gentle hand to the guard instructing for his silence. The guard nodded deeply, saying no more as the lord tugged at the reins of his horse compelling it's slow advance away from the guards and toward him.


He could almost feel old Alejandro and Franklin glaring daggers at him even though he couldn't see them from where he stood. Somewhere from the canopy of the clearing a bird warbled in what felt like a mocking fashion, even as the winds were softly stirring through it's leafy branches.

The Lordling glanced back at the guard to have spoken, giving a nod of approval before turning back to face him. His voice seemed prideful as he spoke with his chin elevated high.

"My man speaks it truly, I am Lord Eskandar of the Torchtower family. Old blood of Suzail and nephew to Baron Elgard."

His horse snorted softly as Eskandar placed a hand upon it's corded, muscular neck. From where he stood the young lord was pinning him with an irritated glare, though upon drawing closer he seemed equally baffled when looking directly his way.

"Bold aren't you?" Eskandar whispered under his breath, his voice almost a hiss.

He felt his own gaze faltering slightly, opting now to avert it. He wondered too late if overstepping his bounds here was such a wise move though did not think to lower his head even whilst the notion surfaced in his mind.

To the hells with you, pompous bastard came his next thought. Growing up in Cormyr he had never cared for the highborn regardless of what Serrano, Franklin or his foster parents had said regarding their role in protecting the country and and one's expected conduct around them as a commoner.

"Lower that hood, strange one... Let me see what you are and I would hear your name too..." the young lord continued in an icy tone.

At this point he felt compelled to look back at old Serrano for direction. The merchant locked eyes with him and scowled lightly, dipping his head sharply back in the direction of the noble and his staring guardsmen. He could see now that his employer looked visibly tense for the first time during this exchange.

Upon looking back at Eskandar could he see the aggravated chagrin writ palpably across his pale, sharp features. One of the guardsmen shook his head before spitting on the ground in disgust, whilst the oldest with the scarred face exhaled sharply through clenched teeth in pure disdain.

The noble didn't so much as blink, continuing to pin him with a cold stare whilst impatiently awaiting his response.

"Come on boy, answer him!" the old guard with the scarred face barked. This time, Lord Eskandar said nothing to coerce the silence of his men and so he lowered his hood to give them all a better view of his abnormal features.

Some how he found the courage to return the young nobles gaze and replied in his own distinctive, breathy voice.

"My name is Malakai" he said all at once, adding with the faintest tone of sarcasm:

"Of the winds... My lord..."





~ Malakai Stormwind - Blade of the Winds ~
Androoh | GMT +0 | Retired
Post Reply

Return to “Character Biographies and Journals”