Episode I: The Throne of Turmish
The wind howled across the deck with a vigorous determination. The rain pelted down with a force great enough to deter even the mightiest sailor. Seamen were shouting, the waves were breaking hard against the hull, and there was no hope in sight.
In the dimly lit cabin, a man in a simple brown robe attending to wounds on a ragged sailor laying in a cot. His leg wound is well cared for, but it is doubtful he will be able to walk much in the future.
Sailor: "Priest, how be you so calm? I be hearin' the waves trying to break us apart, we be not near port, and our supplies is almost out."
Priest: "The sea will not claim me, for I have a different purpose in life. Rest easy, we will see port by morning."
Sailor: "Aye, you be a good soul sir."
The sailor closes his eyes. The priest turns his attention to the lantern swinging back and forth near the door. He prayed hard, the light of day would come.
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As Lathander does every morning he blessed the land with the light of day. Cheers awoke the priest, who hurried to the top deck. The light temporarily blinded him as he blasted through the hatch. As his vision returned, he noticed land as far as the eye could see. Directly ahead lay a large sprawling city set against the coast. They had arrived.
Alaghôn
The priest walks through the crowded streets, dragging behind him a casket. Many looked on with curiosity, but never questioned the man. After a long trek through blanketing city he comes to a tavern, The Screaming Cat. Dragging the coffin in, he props it against the wall next to a back corner table before sitting down. The whole tavern watches him, as the barmaid approaches cautiously.
Barmaid:
hesitantly "Wha- What can aye get ye?"
The priest looks up to meet her gaze.
Priest: "Do not be alarmed, it is not for you nor anyone here. I am quite thirsty lass, so how about your best pint of water."
She gets a shocked look on her face.
Barmaid: "Water? Ye jus want water?"
Priest: "Yes, it has been many days since I have had some to drink."
She wheels away to fetch a mug. Two men dressed in leather armor, armed with swords approach him and sit down across the the priest.
Man #1: Who ye be buryin'?
Man #2: Or what be ye hidin' in thar?
The priest smiles
Priest: "I hope to fill it with someone who resides here. You sirs should not get involved."
The men were already up heading for the casket. The first man reached for the latch, but the priest placed a firm hand on his wrist stopping him.
Man #1: Ye best be lettin' go of me arm less you want to end up in this her."
No sooner did the man finish his sentence, the priest pulled his arm down with frightening speed. The man's face slammed into the tables edge, knocking him out cold. The other man stood stunned for a moment. As he reached for his blade, the priest produced a dagger, was already up and at his throat.
Priest: "Take your friend here,"
produces a pouch of coins and tosses it at the man. "Find him some help, or maybe another tavern."
The man stood unmoving for many moments before grabbing his comrade, the pouch and dragging both out of the tavern. As the priest tucked his dagger away he notices the barmaid, standing wide-eyed with his pint. He smiles and takes it, dropping a few coins into her hand.
A well dressed dwarf approached the priest. He brought a large smile, easily visible through his flowing beard.
Dwarf: "Oi lad, that was a good fight. What ye be here fer?"
The priest remains silent.
Dwarf: "Where be me manners? Aye, I be Fundin Ironfaar, merchant and bard of legends!"
The priest nods.
Priest: "I am Veretius, priest and nothing more."
Fundin: "Ah, then ye be a priest, thas what I thought. Impressive fer a priest."
Veretius: "You say you are a merchant? Tell me, are you familiar with the ones here?"
Fundin: "Aye, but why ye be carin' fer merchants. I don' think they be lookin' fer bodies lad."
Veretius: "I do not seek a merchant for trade, just for talk. One in particular."
Fundin: "Oh, an' who might that be?"
Veretius: "He is a baron, Jabir Fadil."
Fundin: "The Fadil's?"
He pauses a second, looking around the tavern to see who is in earshot. "Who be in the casket lad? Or who it be waitin' fer?"
Veretius grins, then he slides another pouch of coins towards the dwarf. He nods to the door. In response the dwarf grabs the purse and heads for the door, motioning for Veretius to follow him.
Next episode: Death at a funeral
There is nothing funny about this one