Aidan ~ Always the Boatswain never the Shipwright

[Necrotic Shadows]

Storms and Sardines


The day had been marked with a slow drizzle, most of the docked companies weren't moving crates because off in the distance, the sky over where the ocean would be was dark with streaks of lightning. Below it the grey of thick rain was a sign that the streets and sewers were going to be flushed. Thatcher Shipwright Co. had closed down earlier in the day with a brig in their yard; they were waiting on one of the ships that would come in by the morrow. Where Aidan knew his men would be at the tavern drinking, dancing, and making complete fools of themselves, he was here on the docks. Standing there with one foot up on a dock post and leaning over it, much like he would near campfires. He wasn't alone, though. Captain Peter Oakland had been paying a visit while his ship weathered the storm at port.



On a day like this one, ships would be brought away from the docks and anchored in the harbor somewhere, with a distance between ships. This was the only way to prevent damage to the docks and the ships themselves if the wind picked up enough. Baldur's Gate had a natural harbor up the river, so the concern about dangerous waves and ocean tides wasn't a threat, but wind was. The men were quiet for a time as they watched the men moving about the ships. The dark depths of the water were struck on the surface by each raindrop, causing ripples to clash with ripples. The rain was questioning the sovereignty of the pooling liquid.



"You miss it, don't you, Aidan?" He didn't even have to say what it was, Aidan took a slow moment to take a deep breath, "How could I not, Pete. People on the shores often wonder why men who sail treat it like it's some place they are in a hurry to get to, but Pete, it's a place we never leave. It follows us. We see the white caps when the waves kick up, we hear the water that even on somewhat calm days talks so much you can't escape its communication. Where that might bother some, it's a message we hear in a language we know. I miss the swells, riding up over one wave just to slide down the other side. I miss the feel of crashing headlong into a wave and having the water spray over the side of the ship. The feel of the ropes in your hands when there aren't enough men to hold steady the sails. I miss calling out orders and feeling like the master, not over the people, but over the ship. Though, call me shipmaster and I'll drown you in pickled sardines. It almost feels like an insult knowing you're somehow less than a naval captain on a fighting vessel."

Peter laughed,"Attempt to drown me in sardines? Remember, you're the one who hates fish. Before I leave port, I'll make sure my mother gets a note asking her to bring cooked halibut to your house every two days. Make sure you're good and fed." His smile faded a little, "I get it, though, you find dry land and it feels so foreign as if you weren't meant to be here. You can carry a blade and go battle creatures, travel dungeons.... but something remains missing. You wield a blade, but it is the ship that wields you."



Aidan was busy looking at the other man as the rain came in heavily. Both gentlemen were wearing hats and long coats meant for this very sort of occasion. No water dripping down from their brow and into their eyes, no rain soaking through the coats. They continued their conversation, which no one would really hear outside them. Aidan nodded, "Aye, perhaps someday I'll find a way to be commissioned by the Dukes, still maintain my business here under House Portyr. That or I suppose I'll live out my days as a Shipwright. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd love to sail a ship and command it. Doing my best to take out ships that harm the shipping lanes. Maybe even become famous for the number of ships the crew and I were able to take out. The pirates, the privateers on the verge of turning. They all hurt our economy. More than anything, I want to prove to the Dukes that just because I was from Amn doesn't mean I won't give the enemies of the Gate something to fear when they see our sails."

Peter looked at his friend in a light he'd never seen him in, "A bit ambitious for the Shipwright, but you're dead serious. Aren't you?" Aidan nodded his head, but with that half smirk where one side of his mouth turned up, he added, "About as serious as I am that you will come home to find rotting halibut in your belongings left behind. I don't care if I have to climb to a window and let myself in." Peter laughed and hunched over as he half yelled with the rain coming in extremely hard, "Careful, old man, the cobble will break more than your fall if you slip." The two smiled and took themselves inside for a bit of hot tea. Somewhere out on the ocean, a ship full of the materials needed for the shipyard would not survive the storm.

[Necrotic Shadows]

The Wreck


The supplies never made it. It was late evening the following night when the truth came forward that parts of the cargo, rigging, and sails were drifting around in the ocean. At least two ships had confirmed the findings. Aidan took his time talking with the dock workers, the warehouses, and the company representatives. His hopes had died away, but it wasn't cargo that concerned him. He could always purchase more, and shipments could be insured for a small fee. It was that somewhere out there, Umberlee had claimed the lives of more sailors. There would be families that suffered because of this. He couldn't sit idle. As night drew in, he was helping House Portyr dock workers and carrying cargo aboard their vessels.

The shipyard crew was sent home, Hogge refused and helped right along with Aidan. The man had known his own share of these disappointments. He had a son who never returned from work as a sailhand. They might have been different circumstances with pirates, but the loss was certainly the same. Both men seemed to find it hard to really speak on the matter. But it was expected during these mourning periods. The docks were often quiet on days like this. Sure, crates still moved, animals still made their sounds; however, voices were dulled, and speaking only came as necessity required. The families would be notified shortly and reassured that ships are out looking for the men and women. It felt all too often like false hope. Few and far between were the sailors who were ever recovered.

Aidan was one of those lucky few on one trip. It had the same feel as war, except you were fighting something natural and didn't know you would be fighting. Waves, winds, storms, they weren't as easy to accept as angry neighboring armies hungry for land to grab or fighting over short resources. Umberlee, it felt, rarely showed favoritism, even to those who prayed and left coin out of fear she would make short work of the ships or their lives. It was the same with Tymora, luck was hit or miss, if you were lucky all the time and everything fell into your lap, wouldn't everyone worship Lady Luck? The difference, Umberlee loved a good chance to show her power and chaos. Her priestesses loved to wear a smile and pretend as if she were a good god that would bring sailors luck at sea, of course, not without holding out the offering plate.

There were many sailors who paid her no heed. It wasn't uncommon to find Selunites, followers of Valkur, Waukeen, and a list of others among the sailing profession. All that mattered little at the moment. Hogge lifted up one end of a large crate, and Aidan carried the other. Their eyes had met for a moment, and Hogge simply nodded his understanding. Aidan returned it. They were some of the last men working by morning. Neither able to sleep, they went from ship to ship of House Portyr. Aidan even asked to see a few manifests. He was becoming familiar with the captains and found the harbormaster a good conversationalist, except this very early morning. Aidan inspected the ships for anything that might have been missed. Making sure to let the captains know if he saw anything structurally out of order. Though it seemed most of the ships were fine. One or two would need a careening and a complete scrape down soon enough.

As the mists formed over the cool waters and the grey, wet cobble streets were visible to the human eye, the two men walked off together, and with little more than a wave, they'd return to their homes. Aidan felt the weight mentally, physically, and emotionally. He wondered then on some words Cyrah spoke to him the day prior, a conversation between the two men about the natural state of beings being apathetic, and that empathy didn't come as a natural part of the races. Aidan couldn't buy that, but he certainly wished right now it was that easy for him. He got home to the fire going lazily in it's place, his sister would be asleep in one room, likely soon to wake up, Wisp might be there in her reveries, but Aidan sat down in a chair in front of the fireplace and his eyes were closed before he had room for any further thoughts.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Careening and cooking


The supplies lost in the storm would be replaced in the coming days. However, for the time being, there would be plenty of work. Especially on a day when the sun was high and the weather was hot. Gwyn had brought along her siblings today. Her brother Alexio was a man, even if a young one. Though he was quiet and seemed. Their young sister, Farhana, was outgoing with bold childhood curiosity. At eight, here she was, walking about and asking different workers questions. Things like, "What are you doing?" and again "What are you doing?" and "What's that for?". Regardless of some of her repetitive questions, she brought smiles, chuckles, and friendly comments from the staff. Even Samtis' woman, who'd stay on to cook for the men, took an immediate shine to the young one.



Farhana had no place to be or to stay in relative safety, while Gwyn and hopefully Alexio worked. But that was alright, Tess, Sam's woman, was happy to have a little one about. Someone she could teach things to, even to read, cook, and knit. Gwyn looked at Aidan with a great deal of admiration; she knew she had to speak to him about a matter before the day wore on. She asked Aidan for a word; he said, “obstinate.” Which only caused her to roll her eyes, give a grin, and huff. As much as he had a tendency to be serious, he was also commonly a man of good-natured humor. She shook her head, “No, you muttonhead, I mean regarding my brother.” She’d become comfortable enough with his mannerisms that she was certain even calling him some form of idiot would be taken lightly. “When he was younger, he came down with an extreme fever. We weren’t sure he’d survive, but it’s why he says nothing or little. But he’s very intelligent.” Aidan nodded and touched her shoulder, “I won’t shove him aside, there will be work for him with whatever he can manage.” She was happy for that, Aidan treated friends like family, and she should have expected no different.



The day was likely to be boring and brutal work doing one of the most common tasks of any shipyard, careening a ship. This would take two days, sometimes up to three or four in more serious situations. They would bring the ship into port by leads, the ropes wrapped around the new metal supports and through blocks, most folks of the land would know as a pulley. The company would work to drag the ship up the slope of their dry dock on large dowels and onto a platform. When it was in place and secured to the braces on either side of the ship, they would begin the real work. Unfortunately, to pull in larger ships, it would require the help of the other shipyards that were on good terms with the company. It took a lot of men, block and tackle to get a large ship settled, and just as many to put it back out to port.



Most often, these forms of repairs were done in bays, open beaches, or what are known as careening wharfs. Thatcher Shipwright Co. under House Portyr had places to do such within the port and not with a need to travel somewhere else to risk a ship. Here, with the Fist nearby, the city's ships were safer. There were many ways to clean the ocean life from a hull, but some of the methods were not as effective as others. For this company, they would use thin scrape blades, mallets, and most importantly, gloves, to remove the crustaceans.



With prolonged use in water, fresh or salt, the build-up of wildlife was always going to be a concern to a captain or company. Besides permanent damage to the ship, the most problematic part of not having a properly careened ship was that you lost knots from the ship being weighed down. Causing sometimes up to days to be lost on a trip. Barnacles, mussels of all sorts, sea worms, even sea grass and weed were the cause. If a ship went too long without its regular cleaning, it would cost more to repair, or worse. If the keel had been infested or rotted, the whole ship would be scuttled. It would be dragged to the boneyard where carpenters and sometimes ship companies would gather components they would need to fix other ships and buildings.

The shelled crustaceans were dangerous because, in the process of cleaning, every bit of surface could be as sharp as glass once broken. The shells themselves were built of calcium, easy to crack or chip. Aidan brought Alexio down to show him how it was done and explained to him how the task was performed. Even let him try a bit at the working of the blade. Teaching him when to stop and back up if any bit of wood was shaved. Aidan would keep the young man under his wing and make sure he was offered the same respect and chance as anyone else.



They were fortunate that the task went without injury, as it often did cause such. There was a reason a death sentence on a ship was to drag a man under the keel or “keel haul”. Even prior to work like this, the shells were sharp and hard. It was like dragging a body over rigid stones and broken glass; a bleeding man brought other attention as well. In a shipyard like this, however, most wounds were often caused by men who weren’t paying attention and too busy talking about some lass they took a fancy to. At Thatcher's, it always came down to Gwyn admitting they wouldn’t know how to catch a woman’s interest. Reminding them that they should all just try to fish instead. Cuts and wounded pride were frequent incidents in this workforce.

With most of the shell-life broken or gone from the ship, and underfoot, they would pump in water to clean both the side of the ship and the ground below them. They would walk along and pull out any seaweed that remained, or chip off any spots missed. The first steps of the process were complete. Sandstone was the next tool of the trade. Each of the crew, one and all, would take large chunks of sandstone and begin to grind away at what shell and other particles remained. The objective wasn't just to remove the leftover of the sea life, it was to use the sandstone to remove the prior pitch and tar protection. When one side of the ship dried, they would reapply pitch and tar to the hull and let it dry overnight.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Wisp and Wood pt. 1


Aidan woke to light just peaking over the bottom of his window. He sat up and immediately looked over to the candle settled in its brass holder, the wax had melted far beyond the marker. For a moment, this could have been a dream, till he saw the thick metal peg on the floor that had completely missed its pan. Looking around, he saw that Wisp wasn't there. He was certain she wouldn't have made him late for work, anyway. He wasted no time preparing himself for the harbor. Leaving his finer outfits on the forms in the bedroom. Looking back at the candle clock, he was a little over a candle mark late. Slipping into his boots, he crossed the room to his work desk and realized that several of the small wooden boats on his coastal map had been moved. "Damn her," he let slip by his teeth. Taking time to put them back in their place on the correct corresponding routes for House Portyr's trade vessels. He'd get on her case later. She knew, gods did she, she found the most mischievous ways to get under his skin. To be fair, it was a trait they both shared, and though he laughed, he didn't have time to pay back the favor. On his way to the door, he found a note, "Your sister and I regret to inform you that we're moving out........side to the market to gather some food. I might stop in with a basket." At least she left that to explain the quiet house, for a moment he thought it was better like this.



It was a short walk to the shipyard. Aidan had his home in the Steeps so that he could be near work. This morning, probably for the first time since Hogge got drunk and found himself in lock up, all the workers were there before Aidan. He got a look from plenty of the men, and most said nothing. Packet looked at his unkempt state, "Your butcher knows you were at a tavern getting drunk and visiting with the ladies last night?" Gwyn had to draw her lips between her teeth to keep from chuckling. Samtis, missing the joke, turned from a figurehead he was working on to tell the others, "Aidan's not like that, you all know". Hobbe broke in with, "Barber." A few of the workers looked at him with confusion, so he added, "His barber, she's not a butcher. He just told me a while back that he had a woman who always shaved him, and he thought she was attractive, but they were friends." Gwyn returned to her work and mumbled with a silly grin as she looked to Aidan, "Don't think they're friends anymore Hobbe." She'd gone back to her work; she was teaching her brother Alexio the art of caulking. Tomlan shook his head, "As if we all haven't met the delightful woman already"



Aidan blew out a breath. "You were all made quite aware she and I were more than friends the last time she came by." Packet's mallet and wedge made the clank of metal on metal, followed by the cracking of the wood, "Yeah, alright, just didn't think you were so serious about this one. We've seen women come and go, time and again." Aidan raked his hand back through his hair, not wanting those memories resurfacing. Packet continued, "Actually, there's one woman he hasn't brought by, his sister." It was met with some chuckles, men further in the shipyard were even laughing at that crack, it made Aidan wish Packet was more focused on the wood. However, the owner couldn't help himself, "You know, you bring up my sister more than anyone, did you forget that you're married, Packet? Or she run off with a real man?" There was a bit of mumbling before Packet gave a cheeky smile, "Arse". Though it brought some joyful laughter, even Gwyn laughed hard enough that she had to wipe at the corner of her eye. Tess came storming out, "Watch it with that mouth, Daniel Packet, we have a child here, remember?" Packet quietly nodded yes and returned to his work. He looked at Aidan with a smirk.

"Addy, Addy!", came the young one's voice. Farhana was all lights and glow. She ran over towards him, "I'm learning how to make stew!" He couldn't hide his excitement as he crouched, "Promise I can have some when it's done?" She gave her nod and went back to work on the masterpiece with Tess. When Aidan stood, his eyes were on Hobbe. Hobbes shrugged, "She could have learned it anywhere." Aidan's brow lifted, and disbelief was set in stone on his expression. Samtis leaned over and looked back, "She really could have." But he couldn't help grinning. Tomlan came out from behind a desk. "I mean, I call you Addy anytime you're not here." He was shocked, almost impressed. Tomlan wasn't known to be the comical sort; his life story and upbringing didn't afford him time to be anything but serious. It seemed that his work here was changing that. "Alright, crew, we've plenty to do today. The owner of this ship wanted a bit of rework, and of course, the new figurehead. Tomorrow we will likely see our shipments of resources come in, so we can get back to our normal work. Act lively." There was one hushed, "yes, Addy," as Gwyn hid her face around the side of the ship and tried to sound like a man. He clearly didn't pick up on who had called him. Alexio was grinning with his sister.

The day was a typical repair, board here, pitch there, new sets of rope from their stockpile. The figurehead was the hardest part, but Samtis was always the man capable of impressing, so Aidan wasn't concerned. By midday, Aidan got a taste of the stew, and he especially thanked Hana for her amazing stew, a wink to Tess for her brilliance in the kitchen. Though he knew to leave some room. Just in case Wisp showed up, as she suggested she would. He made the right choice as she stepped into the shipyard with a basket and blanket in her hands. She slowly waved to the lot and looked at Aidan, "I made you some food." The corner of his mouth turned up, that lazy grin of his coming to play as he offered, "You mean my sister made some food and you thought you'd bring me some." She, of course, would neither confirm nor deny the statements' validity. He smiled as the two found a good spot to settle, and she put the blanket down while he rested the basket on it. From across the yard, he could see the others looking their way and murmuring amongst themselves. "Rotten, the lot of them," he jested.



She looked from him, through some of the basket, and then to the group. "Those people care for you, give them some rope", she said in a tone of wisdom. Aidan smirked, "Had I given them rope, half of them would have accidentally strangled years back." Not even hearing the words, Hobbe made a face at him. Soft footfall came towards them, and a young girl sat on the blanket as well. She looked up at Wisp, " Are you Addy's butchn, burber, barber.. that's it, are you his barber?" That only caused Aidan to narrow his eyes at Hobbe. The whole crew sitting around the cooking pot was laughing, turning red, and sputtering out a bit. Though the couple's conversation was low enough to keep their ears from hearing, until, Farhana was loud enough, people couldn't miss it. Wisp nodded to the girl, "I shave his face sometimes so he doesn't look like the big fellow." She pointed to Hobbe. "Though Addy grows hair really fast. So I stay around often so he doesn't become a dwarf." She said in a teasing manner, one of his closest friends turned into a lover, who still took every shot she could at him. "He's also very old, so when the others ask about Addy or Aidan, tell them Wisp is looking after the old man." Farhana nodded, looked at the food basket as she stood up. Wisp smiled and handed her some grapes, which the young girl seemed very excited about, and walked off, popping a couple into her mouth.



He draped his arms over his knees as he watched Wisp. She admitted, "Alright so, your sister cooked the roast, it's not a big deal. I made the cheese, the tomatoes, and the bread." His grin was infectious, and soon she was grinning when he said, "You terrible liar." But he didn't care if the others were watching or might catch a glimpse, he held her close and rested his forehead against hers. Lunch could wait just a short bit longer.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Intermission

It was after the picnic, and Hogge, Packet, and Samtis were entertaining Wisp. They each wanted to show her what their most notable work is. For Hogge, that was easy; he told people what to do if Aidan had to step out for business. Packet had shown her how he broke down logs and formed boards, and created them to the right dimensions. He'd hand it off to someone sanding the wood, which would later be steam warped to fit properly to a hull. Hogge would pick up on that work as well when Aidan was around. As a foreman, his duty covered many areas, much like the shipwright himself. He, however, wasn't like Aidan and Tomlan, both of whom were practiced in the drafts, the measurements, and the knowledge of what a ship could and could not do.

Samtis was the last and a more modest man; he didn't appreciate his own capabilities. He always second-guessed his own work, and no matter how much his talent shone through every time, he just saw it as people being kind about his attempts. The truth was he worked wonders when it came to carving his figureheads. The man was never short on work as other shipyards would send business privately to him, of course paying both Samtis and Aidan for the use of the carpenter. Wisp wasn't simply impressed; her interest was built in sincerity. She'd asked about different aspects of the mermaid he was working on, awed by the shells that cupped the curves of the woman's bosom. They weren't just shells; he formed both the deep grooves between each part of the shell and the ridge lines going across them. These were details no one would notice unless they were up close, and yet it drew the attention of captains who'd never likely see them up close again. Samtis actually seemed pleased by her sentiments and acknowledgement, his only confidence ever being in his ability to brawl, he felt outside his element even for the natural talent.

Meanwhile, outside, standing on the dock, Aidan was looking at ships coming in and leaving port. He knew most of the local ships by name, figurehead, style of ship, and personal flags flown below the Baldurian standard. He knew quite a few of those from other territories who visited Baldur's Gate monthly. Aidan's life was the sea, even if he was rarely given the space to venture out upon it. He envisioned himself as a captain, as he had once been before. Commissioned in a position on a sloop of war meant to travel with and protect the cargo fleet of House Portyr. If his life had to be invested in port, however, perhaps some day the Harbor Master of House Portyr. He thought it too unlikely he would have been given the position over the whole of the gray water harbor.

"You know", she started and gave it a moment as she sauntered up, "first, the water isn't going to change colors just because you stare at it." He looked back with a smirk, but he did turn back to the water, his hand resting under his chin, thumb and index along his jawline. "Don't be so sure of it." He chuckled. Gwyn looked over the waters with him, "A bit disrespectful, however, the men are taking bets on how long this lasts for you. You don't really have the greatest history of keeping a girl. Let me see if I can remember their names." He stopped her, "Too many to count, Gwyn. Not quite a history I want to relive. As for the men, they've always done that. I don't let it get to me. Besides, what's the bet, one year or less? Fifty to one odds? I could just pitch in my coin now and be rich enough to retire as a trade lord. Wisp and I go way back. We've always been there for each other when things were hard for either one of us. She may be the only woman along this coast who truly sees who I am. Not some rake moving from woman to woman, but one met with misfortunes."

"Well, if it matters, Master Shipwright, you got another woman who isn't going anywhere." She patted his arm, "No, I'm not competing for her spot, I'm saying you're a good man. One to stick by through hard times, she's right to see that in you. Even if you are -terrible- with women." She laughed, even a slight snort. When she calmed down, "Thank you for giving Alexio the same chances you gave me. It means a lot. I can understand why most of these men have been with you for nearly a decade or more. Anyway, I'll let you get back to staring at the water, just don't forget you got a beauty in there with the curiosity of a cat that doesn't seem to consider getting bit by a snake as enough of a warning not to get close to it again." He laughed it off, "How else could she manage being around me?"

Aidan took one more look at the waters, wishing this view wasn't of dark river waters, but the sea itself. Then his mind stirred to the thought of that very lovely woman waiting at the shipyard for him. He couldn't help but smile.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Wisp and Wood pt. 2


One could hardly fault the man for watching on with both worry and amusement. He wasn't the only one who'd taken in the theatrics. Elves were natural climbers, but Wisp could climb with a hand and foot tied behind her back and juggle at the same time. She seemed to be a woman afraid of the very word "sailing," and here she was climbing the ropes, walking the crossbeams, and out onto spars. She'd take risks and jumps he'd never seen most sailors willing to attempt. But then, those ships were moving, and she was on a ship positioned with supports. No ocean waves to set you off balance, no storm or warfare to challenge your footing.



Footsteps amidst the cheers came up behind Aidan, who could have turned and looked when he heard it decided his eyes were on exactly who he wanted them to be. A voice came from over his shoulder, "Looks like you traded up." It caused him to smirk. "Peter, you've known none of my former lovers." Gwyn looked between the two men and laughed. Peter's smile widened as he stepped up next to Aidan, "And...now you know the rat that has told me the long details of your love life." He gave an odd expression as he looked off and added, "Can we call it a love life? It's more like a family tree that each limb includes you and ends with no leaves."
Captain Oakland squeezed his friend's arm, "Forgive me, I don't count Linela in that tree, she's a golden lasting branch. But from what Gwyn tells me, as she's heard from some of the men, who've heard from docksmen around the town, who heard from their wives and mistresses.... your list of lovers made you look like a madman. So yes, you've traded up."

Aidan thought of Linela. She had told him to find happiness, to find love again. That last memory amidst her pale skin was a love-filled smile and eyes that searched the creases of a worried husband's face for the last time. She died peacefully in his arms. He'd finally come to not grieve as often a few years ago. He withdrew from those memories like fleeing a door and locking it behind him. He just nodded and laughed it off, "Yes, a madman indeed." He gathered himself and tried to focus on the moment. It was a short time of simple replies and listening to the others talk before he was returned to himself. When he was finally up to it he smirked at Gwyn, "Sell out." It only caused her to laugh and shake her head. But Aidan smiled longer; she knew why. She could see he wasn't a man who missed much and she didn't feel uncomfortable with her friend knowing that there was something brewing in her for Peter.

Aidan stole the opportunity, "Peter, Gwyn.." Gwyn's eyes grew large at him like she would be strangling him soon. "I need you two to talk to Farhana. A captain, a sister... the way she's watching Wisp and pointing, none of us want her attempting this. Maybe tell her she can try these things only when she's old enough to like boys, the way Wisp likes Aidan." Gwyn looked relieved, but eyed him dangerously, even if it was replaced with a smile as the two went off to find Farhana to make sure the girl would have further lecturing than what Tess had probably already given her. While Hogge, Tomlan, Sam, and the rest were watching Wisp's displays of smug confidence, Aidan saw Alexio looking at him with a broad grin. Aidan's brows creased together and saw the young man look towards his sister and Peter walking along. Aidan went closer to Alexio, "Yes, I think if he takes the same joy in her company, there may come a match of the two."

Alexio nodded and forced out, "Tanki yov". Aidan looked confused, "For what? This is of their own choosing." But Alexio shook his head and waved his hammer about at the shipyard, the work, the people. It put a smile on Aidan's face. "You're part of this Alexio, and you will continue to be. This shipyard is a family. You find a job here that you feel you are best at and we will work out the rest." Alexio smiled partly and pointed up at Wisp. Aidan chuckled, "She really is something. A ship crew could use someone like that. Just too bad I think she's as afraid of water as cats are." He patted Alexio's back and let the man return to his enjoyment. Finding a place for himself to sit down and enjoy the fact that there was an elf floating about the ropes like a moth trying to decide which magic light was better.



It felt nice to be alone, just he and his thoughts. Though part of it touched on the prior matter of Linela, Wisp was as opposite from his wife as one could get. Linela was always relaxed, always writing little sweet notes to remind him of how much she cared, speaking to him about his day at work, and cooking meals for the two of them when he'd come home late. Wisp would toss playful insults back and forth, lie near quiet on a log for just long enough to suggest it was relaxing and then be up and around doing anything/everything she could, show up at his work, and borrow cooked meals from Aidan's own sister to make sure Aidan ate. She also chose his facial hairstyle. Where their friend Sirion would lament the loss of Aidan's mustache, and Aidan wasn't sure what he wanted his facial hair to be like, Wisp was the devil in the room, making sure Sirion never got the satisfaction of seeing the mustache return.

She was a curiosity monster. One moment she's saying last words to you before you fall asleep, the next you know she's got you bagged up in a sheet while you're trying to skirt your way around the room for a door handle, and she's on your back with her arms around the sheet keeping you from escape. Knows where all your prized possessions are, so she's knocked them down or moved them, and eats food off your plate when you step out of the room. "A cat...damn it... a cat". Wisp was just that: take your pet one moment, bite your hand the next, claw at you because it was fun, and then chase after a stray bug. But he couldn't deny he was in love with her, at least not to himself. They'd been friends for what felt like a lifetime; he knew who she was when he told her he wanted to be her man. She ultimately made him feel more alive. She wasn't just some crutch to get past melancholy. She was established in his life for years and they both took turns lifting the other out of poor spirits.

Right now, she was lifting everyone's spirits with the lively rope tricks. People never believed him when he told them she used to work in a traveling show.

[Necrotic Shadows]

The Gray Harbor, in its way, was like so many ports one might find along the Sword Coast. Aidan had been to every major anchorage along the stretch. From Neverwinter to his furthest north, and it's Dock District, Waterdeeps Dock Ward, Calimports Dock Ward, and of course Athkatla's Docks in the poor River District, where Aidan grew up. The same could be said for the many major ports and most of the lesser ones along the stretch. They're dangerous, dirty, and stink. Aidan had talked about it with Wisp when she'd asked about the foul smell one day. When he mentioned the three common complaints of any port, she had informed him he was two of the three. In true Wisp form, she got a curve of a smile as her insult hit.

It didn't leave him questioning which of the three he was not, with her, it would be whichever of the three was the lesser evil. She was proud of her playful snark, and he was proud to keep his mouth shut instead of warning her that in her distraction, she was stepping into a pile of fish entrails, mollusks, and worms that the fishers had ground up into chum to draw in their catch later in the day. She played dirty; she definitely smelled it, dangerous as a butterfly... with fangs. He was just glad she was too busy wiping her foot and leg off on every dock post and crate she came across. He'd steal her key back when she wasn't looking. Aidan wanted a clean-smelling home.

She'd told him she was going to go clean up, and he nodded to her as he looked out over the ships and smaller vessels, a devilish smirk on his face. It was gone in a flash, of course; she'd walked off with her key and she wasn't walking in the direction of the bathhouse. He gripped the rail of a staircase in the docks leading up to a platform from which he could get a better view over the water. His jaw set in its hard tone, best known when he was annoyed or angered. He was the only one to blame in this case. There was something here that always felt more calming than Waterdeep or Athkatla. Calimport was exotic and new no matter how many times you've visited, you still don't really get used to the culture. But here, even on a crowded day, there was something that seemed more appealing.

He was glad to make the Gate his home, even if things were not to last. He did, however, question one thing after a long list of events recently in the harbor. spice smuggling, uprising, a ship came to port with pirates pouring out to kill people, another ship carrying artifacts and some form of miasma before it broke apart and sank in the dark waters. With all these events, he thought back to the war against the undead. He was happy they could hardly think for themselves, or the obvious point of attack would have been to come through the channel and under the port in the lower city. Their odds of destroying half the town at the least were higher there. More, without a port, supplies would run short.

He would speak with the Harbormaster regarding what provisions have been considered for such events, the gears of engineering turning in his head, the constructive and fortifying nature getting the better of him. He would search for a way to see that the port was safer. Perhaps not against corruption, but at least against invasion. Or ships being allowed in that just should not be. His first order of business, having not seen one himself, was to ask the Harbormaster or the Fist if a Boom Chain had been installed. Having a thick strand of chain that could cross the port opening, left under water but lifted by geared wenching to keep questionable ships out till they could be looked over would save citizens' lives. It would save the city in a profitable way in the long run, as well.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Blade and Baldness


It was another day of work, and some of the company were helping waterproof a ship that had come in for repairs. They had little today beyond this, where Sam and Tomlan were busy with matters of carving and crafting a model of a ship together, the odd man out of the twenty-three workers was Alexio. It was hard to work the line with others if you couldn't shout out that you were ready for more material and pitch for stuffing the cracks between boards. Alexio was handed odd jobs till there really was little else he could do. Aidan heard him outside at one point hammering on something. The sound stopped for a bit, then picked back up. At that time, the shipwright was going over a list of ways he felt the port could be helped and benefit. It took all sorts to make a harbour bring in decent profit and high-quality trade goods. He'd already figured the Boom Chain into his ideas; regardless, he had a list of suggestions to figure out for the efficiency of the city's Gray Harbor.

He left the parchment half finished for the moment. Reaching into a side pouch, he sprinkled sawdust over the ink to draw away any moisture still within the writing. He walked around the building and into the drydocks. Looking among the ships that were kept till either the company needed them or private investors decided to buy one of the older ships he didn't build, even if the company repaired them. He didn't hear the hammer of nails, searching this way and that, he finally saw Alexio striking a post that he had bound in leather to dull the sound and protect the wood. It was enough for the older man to travel off for the time being. When he got back to his work station, Aidan flipped the parchment upside down to make sure the sawdust was removed without smudging the writing. When he was sufficiently satisfied, the scroll was rolled up and tucked away.

He picked up an old sword that lay with a stack in the corner. These non-magical blades and armor that people would sell for a bit of coin were often bought by the shipyards. This was metal that was already mined up, already smelted, and purified. It was easier to get than waiting for a shipment in times of need. It had the added bonus of being a quick melt as it wasn't thick chunks but flatter portions. Walking about the skywalk surrounding the shipyard, he found the dwarf smith who had been working with them on projects. Aidan was entirely excited at the pay rate asked of him, but they don't lie when they suggest dwarves and elves make high-quality metal products. "Biligrat, I need you to polish this up, clear the rust, dull the edges, and shave the point so it'd make a good training blade."

The dwarf gazed up at him with no response; the bald portion of the top of his head was the only thing the sunlight seemed to like at the moment. Aidan thought to make some joke about using him to help the caulkers see. In the end, it was determined to be better not to poke at such a subject. The dwarf was always good with humor, but that might have gone too far. The dwarf, after several moments, finally spoke up, "Oi ana bet ye wan' a wee bit o' pork, sum por' wine ana 'orse ta ride when ye done. Should oi get on da' ta Aidan?" The dwarf gave a flat look. "I'm so glad you brought that up, indeed. Thank you. I'll just drag a chair over here and watc-", Biligrat cut him off, "Bugger off ye.. id'll be readah soon 'nough. surly bastard." Aidan walked off, chuckling, "And this is why I like you." It was met with little more than a grunt of annoyance. Not that Biligrat had anything to do; he was even allowed to drink on the job as long as he wasn't passing it out to the lightweights.

Aidan watched the candlemark slowly lower from his desk. It felt like time couldn't move fast enough. He got a bit of false hope when Biligrat walked in, ignored Aidan's presence, and searched for another long sword. On his way out, Aidan tried to talk, but the dwarf grumbled and said, "Damn thin' was magical, bit o' trash dough." He tossed the other one on the floor in his departure, away from the stack of metal. Aidan looked at it. There were black spots where it looked like the metal had melted right through, and even explosive marks. The man took off his hat and put his head down on the desk. He must have dozed off because before long, he felt a fat finger rubbing at the center of his ear, "Oi Aidan ye so attrah'ive.. take meh home."

He had no problem waking up and sitting up stiff, looking at the dwarf who looked over his shoulder like someone had just left. He held out the blade for the shipwright's inspection. Aidan gave his nod of approval as he looked along the blade, felt its edge and tip. "Da' wha ye wantin?" The man looked at him funny, "Well, sort of. I was promised pork and port." Biligrat waved it off dismissively as he left to go do his other work, "Eat yerself, yeh got enough o' both in ye".

The Shipwright made his way out to the drydock and bone yard. When he found Alexio, he was sitting down, resting, and wiping his arm across his brow. He stood up as Aidan approached, "Su..su...sir". Aidan held up a hand, "You don't need to address me. I know it's hard, Lex". He pulled the blade from behind his back to show the younger man, "You've already crafted a training dummy. What say you to a bit of training? We will test your skills, I'll teach you my native fighting style, and as you progress, we can duel to help you hone the training even more." It didn't take a second asking, no time to think about it, Alexio jumped at the chance with his enthusiastic nod.



The latter half of the day was spent learning the fighting style of Athkatlan Triparite. Turning your blade defense into an unexpected offense. He helped the young man with his stance, his footwork when attacking, and which way to best flick and angle the blade to strike where it wasn't expected. "Practice can never be overstated. The warriors and adventurers found dead within dungeons are there for two reasons. They didn't train enough, and they underestimated their opponents. You can do neither of these, Alexio. If you want to be well-versed in combat, you must earn it." He was showing his trainee a few more maneuvers, handed the blade off, and then felt his arm jerked hard to the side.

Alexio looked at his sister as she had a hold of Aidan's arm. He shook his head no to her, but she gave him a death stare. He went back to practicing while Gwyn dragged him out of earshot. "He's a kid, Aidan, he thinks he wants this, but he doesn't. You're not his father, please don't put him in this position and get him excited about some military duty." When she let go of Aidan, he gently rubbed her arms and then hugged her momentarily, "Gwyn, I'm not putting him in harm's way, I'm not convincing him to go off to war the next time the gate has one. But at some point, I may not be around. Samtis is good with his fists, but the majority of the people who work here are piss-poor fighters. I don't want it to come to a situation where I put Tomlan in charge and I just remain a silent partner to the business I settle in his hands, only to find there is little protection. You and I both know he can do a deal of the work here, which is a boon, but have you seen him truly happy doing any of it?"

She had to think on it and shook her head, "No, and he's not himself much, not like he used to be. I thought I brought him out publicly when he wasn't ready. I know it isn't true, I had hoped, though, you know? Hoped that was all it was." He nodded, "Alex isn't a child, as much as you still see him that way. Your little sister and you may both need looking after, unless you're eager to learn a blade as well." She shook her head no to that. She watched her brother for a bit, seeing his attempts at the art form Aidan was teaching him. "Don't get him killed, Aidan. I can't lose him," Her eyes welled up a bit, and he gently swatted her shoulder. "Tears from the woman who puts every man in this shipyard to shame with retorts?" She laughed softly at that and rubbed her eyes; she nodded some. "I've trusted you, you know I have. I can't hate you for wanting to prepare him for a harsh world. Just do your best to make sure he is ready for anything that may come."

[Necrotic Shadows]

Test and Talent

The ship was finished with its repairs, taking up two whole days to dry. Work was going to begin anew with a fresh ship coming in. Before it could, however, the previous captain wanted to be certain this shipwright and dockyard was trustworthy. "Yeh intend for me to sail this, let me see yeh and your lads take it out. I'll check the inside of the hull when you return. Last wright that touched it, just south of the river to Daggerford, charged me for a botched job. didn't know till we'd left. Of course, he blamed it on our sailing." Hogge grumbled, "Was it your fault?" Some of the men chuckled, though Sam and Aidan both gave him a look that said all that needed to be heard.

The shipwright gave it a nod. "Yeah, I'll take it out with some of my workers. Monitor it in the hard waves to make sure the caulking stays. You're welcome to send some men out ahead of me to the coast and watch." He glanced about the shipyard, "I'll grab some more men, as well as some dock loaders, and have them go with me. This isn't a service we perform to every ship that comes through; your crew doesn't belong to House Portyr, so it will be half a bag paid to the treasurer." The man seemed a bit annoyed and nodded. He handed off the coin at least for that part in advance. The normal habit was to pay at work completion, if the ships were not House Portyr's and if the work for Shipwrights was slow with Portyr work.

Aidan handed the coin off to Tomlan, "Tommy, you know Miss Sordrin. Get this to her." He looked further about, "Lex, you go with him with your blade. You'll look the part of a hired sword, and we won't be dealing with pickpockets thinking Tommy is an easy mark." Alexio nodded to this, and he grinned. His first assignment looking like a swordsman, even if the blade would be sheathed and dulled. Meanwhile, Gwyn considered the irony. Aidan met her when she thought he was an easy mark. "Packet, you, Tiss, and Farhana will stay here to make sure people know we're open. The company needs to get a stock of boards ready. We'll return shortly. ehh Biligrat, stay here and try to look sober." The dwarf gave a half-assed salute and drank from a tankard. A portion of it was dripping down his beard.

Hana laughed in her childlike voice and pointed to the dwarf. "he's funny. He splashes more of his drink than horses do." The dwarf closed one eye and stared at her with the other, the tankard lowered, this was serious, and the dwarf knew he had to defend himself. "Oi drink like this ta wash moh beard, all dwarfs do. It makes us stronger, fas' and hairier." The whole company decided it was best not to mention his balding head. Tiss offered, "And now we know another fun fact, uh... dearie, let's go draw some letters on parchment." She hurried Farhana off before this became something more, even when the dwarf was jesting, he looked angry at the world. To be fair, angry at everything in the world but his stout.

"I'll be going with." The voice came from the gates into the shipyard, standing at the dry entry of the building. There was Wisp, dressed in her black attire and trying to look confident. Aidan shook his head, "I didn't think you were stopping in today lo-" He stopped himself, "Wisp, I didn't think you'd be by". She smiled, and a bit of her nervousness showed, "An old man told me the next time he heads out to sail, I get to go." Though her voice cracked at what she was suggesting, and her eyes darted to the water, when she looked at Aidan, he saw that defiance he absolutely loved in her. A woman who doesn't let you push her aside without her finding equal measure. It had become something vital to him. She continued, "Besides, Addy, would you rather I tell our friends about the time you tr-" He shook his head no, "That's dirty and underhanded. We'll be avoiding that." She beamed as she got her way, again.

It was settled, she'd be on the voyage. When the crew had rounded up men from House Portyr who likewise were having slow days, Aidan paid them himself for the extra help. With the ship floating in the docks, the crew and Wisp climbed the gangplank. With a moment alone, Gwyn approached Wisp. "You'll have to teach me how to drive a man crazy for me without driving him away. I see the way Aidan looks at you. I have a guy I want to... well, I hope he.. I hope he eventually asks me to court him." Wisp smiled softly and looked for Aidan, "Aidan and I have been friends for some years, nearing a decade. I'm not saying wait that long, yet, when you've given it some time, you begin to understand who they are and what matters to them. It's no different than the key to a lock. Except don't leave that key in the house, lock yourself out, and decide to break into the house your man owns. I'm not saying anyone here has done that. Oh look, we're going to sail!"

Aidan held the helm, some men pushed off from the docks, and it was easy for almost anyone to tell that some part of Wisp was leaping out of her skin. She was beyond her comfort. She told Gwyn, "We'll talk about it sometime." With little else, she went to find Aidan. Eventually, when she was standing with him at the helm, she put her hand on the railing. As the boat began to rock, she was reminded of his words. He had told her the night before that standing aboard the deck of a ship is about like climbing a thin tree. It sways back and forth; it does so harder when the wind blows more. There may come a time when you have to hold on to something tightly. This only gets harder during storms and crashing waves.

She was here; she would experience that soon enough. "This isn't so bad", she muttered before they were even down the River Chionthar. "mm so you done calling them 'Addy's large canoes'?" Wisp shook her head to his words, "nope". He should have expected no different. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Remember what I told you, if the trip becomes too frightening before we get to the ocean, I can get you safely to land." She only shook her head no. However, she crept out from under his arm. Never fully one for public displays of affection, she was a different person at home. The trip to the ocean was short as always. The captain's men didn't need to wait on the shore; two of them went along. Aidan didn't call out commands on this voyage; Hogge had a large voice and intimidating gruffness. It helped that all of Aidan's workers were well-versed in the company's sailing rituals.

He found himself at the helm alone as Wisp disappeared. Before long, she was overhead in the ropes, climbing higher. Hogge stuck his fingers between his lips and whistled for her, then clapped as he watched the elf do the very thing Aidan was sure she could. She'd grown to understand what it meant to be on a ship, rocking with the ocean. She was fierce and competent. You would have sworn the woman was a spider in her past life, the way she treated the ropes like her own personal web. He just was glad he hadn't mentioned that aloud; he didn't need to get punched.



It was later, after the men, both the ship's own crew and the shipyard, looked it over and agreed it was waterproofed, that the ship started to turn back to port. Those climbing up to the main deck would hear Wisp laughing, a laugh that even Aidan couldn't help smiling about. But she had made her way out on the bowsprit, standing past the front of the ship, balancing on the ever-narrowing fourteen-foot wood pole that held the jib sails by rope. She was riding each wave as the ship turned, crashing down with each wave that rolled against the ship while the vessel cut through them. She was splashed, but she didn't care. She laughed at the circumstance. That smile on her face was one that the Shipwright would never forget.

She called back at him behind the helm. "Aidan!!! This ship has a wolf thingy down here!" Her finger was dangling and pointed below the front of the bow where the figurehead of a ship could be found. He smiled a moment, and when Sam walked by him, all Aidan could say, with a nod, was, "She's going to get herself killed." Sam half smiled and blinked at Aidan's lack of emotional attachment to the words. "You two have the most bizarre relationship I've ever witnessed. I don't even want to try to figure it out." Aidan grinned at that, "Don't worry, I think she'd live. Who else is going to torment me? Moreover, she'll be angry if there aren't towels to dry off when she gets back, live or dead."

At least at the end of the day, the Captain paid what was owed; the other option had he not paid was that the ship would be held till payment was made, or it would become a company ship. This captain took no issue with paying his bill and seemed pleased to have the help, both with repairs and test sailing it. Aidan didn't have his girl drown, and somehow Biligrat didn't burn down their company. He knew somehow, though, he'd never hear the end of how much fun she had sailing. If she were to ask again, he'd have to teach her proper knots, how things worked aboard the ship, and help her learn the skills to sail.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Madmen and Mimics

It had been eating at him for the better part of the day. There were actual instructions for this, and they still didn't help. He'd even trained a portion of his life for this very purpose. Even to the point of being told the talent would bring him a promising reward in his work. It did, of course. However, for the particular purpose he wanted to use it for, it was really annoying him. Every attempt had fallen flat. The words were clear on the parchment: "Takes you to a place you have marked; it could bring things with you." His eyes flashed over a few words, but mostly he just skimmed the page. Some bit about other people, but he did not need or want those. He got tired of reading already and skipped directly to the end of the mage's letter and the verbal words to say to use the spell. He wasn't properly trained in a school for wizards; this talent came to him naturally, and definitely a gift from the mines.

He gave himself a good nod for confidence, looked across at his table and floor, where over a dozen tankards had fallen over, fallen off, or were broken. "Alrigh' den. Dis time." He got his hands all ready, reached out through the open air with one hand held towards the tankard, another towards his stool near the kiln. He closed his eyes and imagined where he wanted to be and what he wanted. "Delutaqullo tolarin." He felt the flash, knew his body was moving, the excitement flashed upon his face, he blinked and ended up crashing down on the table. "oi!! flea riddin son of a 'hores second uncle!!!" He glared at the tankard in front of him. "Look oi marked yeh! Oi marked da damn table! Oi marked da ground ah moh stool!!" He pointed at the tankard, "All yeh ad ta do was ge' in moh hand as oi sat down!!!"



He got off the table and tried his spell again, "Dulukinabwah tinlardin." Again, he saw the flash; this time it would work for sure. He felt himself being brought somewhere else, and that was to his chair, well, past it at least, and missing it. Thrown against the wall of the stone and wood structure that was built for the safety of a forge fire. He cried out in aggravation. Followed by some swear words, as ash from the forge wood and coals traveled up this side of the room and out the chimney. He was getting nowhere with his magic, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why. Aidan happened by and, hearing the sound, just shook his head. He mumbled to himself, "Whatever woman crawled into his arms must be desperate. I'll have to thank her later if his work actually improves." He walked into the dockyard to deal with the current ship they were constructing, this one a sloop meant to travel with convoys of merchant goods.

Meanwhile, back at the forge, out of breath and feeling his age, Biligrat stared at his tankard from across the room like it was the Mother of Demons herself. He eyed it, no, this wasn't eying.. this was a staring contest and he wasn't going to blink before his tankard did. To most, that might seem to be an odd thing to witness, but in the past, Biligrat swore up and down that this particular tankard was a minaturized mimic. Not that you could really tell that was what he was saying. But after he would point at a chest, say some more nonsense no one would understand. He'd walk over to the chest, opening and closing the lid, while snapping his own teeth. Eventually, they understood, Biligrat was senile. What's worse is that at present he blinked. Then he growled, "Fine din! be da't way. but yeh donnoh bite meh and oi wont smash ye inta sawdus' or worse." He thumbed over his shoulder. "Tos yeh into da fire".

"Dis is easier den da spell, anyway." He got on his feet and crossed the room, filled up the special tankard from a Keg. He took a drink out of the tankard right there in front of the keg. He pulled a hammer off his toolbelt and waited. He took yet another drink and eyed the keg suspiciously. Someone had to be sure the keg wasn't the mother of the tankard. After a bit, he wobbled back to his seat and set the tankard down just close enough for it to feel the warmth. A little warning for the wicked thing. Laying out some forms, he, with bare hands, picked the stone pot out of the kiln and poured enough metal into each form that would be part of the new ship. He'd have more to do, but this would take a slow process, and he wasn't going to stay overnight just because he managed to say the incantation for Energy Immunity. Few knew if he'd be able to on a given day.

He moved a few pots and pans around, took some old chainmail and put it back into the stone pot, returning it to the kiln. He moved several pieces of metal around, between drinks. He'd only opened two kegs today, so he was certain he could still handle his work. He tossed all the metals into different places, based on types, on the floor to sort them out. Then boredom crept in while he waited. This behavior might have gone on for several candlemarks throughout the day since. He was now at the point where Tanky and he were both well drunk. "Oh 'e beh known as dah boa' guy...buh yeh better say ship... or 'e loses 'is witts." Biligrat picked up a wooden ladle he didn't remember having; he was tapping at different pots and thought he sounded great.

"weeeeeelllll 'e smells like a girl anah when he turns it'sa twirl. 'e puts 'is foot upon stumps.. cause 'e dinks it looks manlay!!! Buh 'e's a crier needin a nanny! 'e fi-" Damn, cut short. Aidan stood in the doorway now. Tankards everywhere, metal everywhere, a grumpy-looking dwarf over a kiln burning holes through him with his eyes. Aidan gave an odd look, "The hells happened here, Billy-boy? What were you just saying?" The response came in stiff, "Nothin." A moment passed of Biligrat staring at the shipwright, his arms circling the kiln and his chin on it's ledge, "wha' yeh say?" Aidan grumbled, "nothing". Things were tensely awkward, so Aidan backed out and around the corner, heading off as he heard pots being tapped on again.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Memorial and Minstrel

It had been a long time in the making, Samtis found scraps ot time here or there between his other work. Aidan knew well in advance of this side project and was even asked if he would have some words engraved. This was to be a monument meant for the sailors who went down in the storm some weeks back. But between the two men, they decided to make it a monument to all sailors, no matter their deeds. This was a call of recognition, a feeling all sailors owned. It was always hard to explain those things to those who only walked the land or had been on a ship once or twice. Something about it always captured a part of you when enough time was spent upon the waves. It owned a piece of you, and you a place in it. When the work was finally complete, even with Aidan's poem and year added to the back of the sign, it would serve as a reminder of a way of life.

Though many families already had memorials for their loved ones, the open invitation went out to them as well as to any sailor in the port. Samtis and Aidan wanted to be sure they understood this was as much for them as those who were gone. When the time came and they stood upon the beach, they allowed a minstrel from one of the sailing ships to sing a lulling and haunting shanty. One that few sailors ever forgot. Wrote upon their gathered rumors of what caused the Elfsong to become the Elfsong. The idea of a lone feminine elf forever looking out from shore for her true love's return, only met with the realization that it would not be this day, it may never be any day. Sailors lived their lives knowing the dangers and risked it all the same. Only a woman who truly understood that part of a man they love belongs with the sea, would ever marry a sailor. When the song came to an end, there was no applause, nor expected. It was as it was.

A list of names of those more recently lost was read off, to some causing renewed tears and heartbreak, while some others were only known well by their crewmates who went down with them. Kind words about some of these men and a couple of women were said by friends and family alike.
Nearing the end, Aidan and Samtis hung the sign from some chain and bar they took while Biligrat was about town. He wouldn't mind, Samtis kept telling Aidan. The thing is, Samtis was the only man in their workforce that Biligrat didn't get grumpy with. Not because Samtis was capable of a good fight, but because Samtis was kind-hearted and visited the dwarf often enough to bring him drinks. This was probably going to cost Samtis "Tha Good Stuff".

The ceremony ended with the sign hung, writing on the front and back.

Upon the back read the following:

The sails we lift each given day
a monument to those raised before
We tack as we chart upon our way
to far and foreign distant shore

We live in bold, the sailors' lot
The Sword Coast waters beckon, "roam"
A ceaseless mistress, running knot
tide deep within our every bone

To those lost, both friend and foe
may memory keep you upon the mind
Loved ones take you where they go
so weeps the sea, until the sun has shined.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Swords and Squirrels


Candles burn slowly when you watch them, but just like time itself, the less you focus on them, the faster they burn.
Days of candlemakers were stretching into weeks. Tomlan was becoming less dependent on his mentor, nearly a prodigy of his own making. He, above all in the company, was a quick learner. But he came from a life where it was necessary to be a step ahead. With Aidan taking him under his wing out of love for both Elizabeth and Tomlan, Tom had been granted access to Aidan's library on the building art of ships. It helped that he was a proficient reader before Aidan met him. Both Beth and Tom had good parents, parents who put every effort into the structure of their children's education. Before the war between Baldur's Gate and Amn, which left them homeless and fleeing north for sanctuary. Though their mother passed of an ailment along the way, and before the Wyvern Crossing, their father was killed by rogues.

Aidan, at some point would leave the company in the management of Tomlan Beckhart's name. With an agreement that a handful of his superior workers were to have a share of its value and revenue, and a smaller amount to the rest of the men and women. This wasn't just a place of success; it was family. Aidan himself wasn't close to retiring; he just had other things he wished to do in this life. A Shipwright would always be in his blood, an engineer at his core. But he had many talents that went beyond this small scope. He was a man of many traits, but high among them was honor and looking after others. Which is why he was devoting time to other matters. With Gwyn's approval, he moved forward in teaching Lex fighting techniques with the longsword. They'd come to a point now that leather armor was worn while they practiced man against man. Both with blades dulled.

Biligrat wasn't pleased with having to polish up and fix a second sword. When he came out of his shop with that annoyed look on his face, Aidan knew the job was done. The dwarf flung it at Aidan's feet and walked off mumbling, "Tomus ak 'rh our'h azhtha." Aidan had no desire to shove things there, but when the dwarf was halfway back to his shop, Aidan picked up an acorn and flung it the dwarves way, before both hands were on the blade and he was staring at Alexio. The Acorn found a patch of Biligrat's hair. The dwarf immediately looked at Aidan but caught the man showing moves. It only made the dwarf look around suspiciously at the few trees there were, "damn squirrels."

But that had been almost two weeks ago. Alexio and Aidan went back and forth. The older man was teaching the finer points of engineering based on weaponry. He would drill him time and again on how to let an opponent's blade land on the outside of his, wait till it's slid down with his aid of moving into the inside of his opponent's attack and using the fulcrum of his crosshilt to push the opponent's weapon upward, while his own jabbed straight in. Performed properly and close enough to an opponent, there was plenty of blade to slide through. He taught feint attacks. Aidan would stomp down hard with one leg leaning in low, and in the chance the opponent took the bait, instead of swinging at the man's legs, he would swing his sword up, aiming for his opponent's head. This could be effective on both a blade or a shield; it's all a matter of causing the other to lower his guard position.

These drills were done slowly to show effect, but they would practice a portion of the day on learning to get a proper understanding with two hands before they would eventually switch to a shield in time. Aidan would often remind Lex of the one rule that remained high above others: understand your foe through their eyes. Know when you're witnessing fear, witnessing confidence, witnessing a bluff in the movement of the eyes. The two men would battle, and often, some of the workers done with their projects would come to watch. These were men who didn't know Aidan to be handy with a blade. Some even joked that they thought his scabbard and real blade were just props. Sure, they knew he was trained in a war college, but to see it taking place and realizing his logic in attacks was sound, it was another thing.

Alexio was getting better with each day, and it showed both in his footwork, his blocking and offensive positioning, and even his strikes. One out of every twenty, he would tag Aidan. Which might have embarrassed another man, but Aidan had confidence. He also wasn't geared as he normally would be in a fight. Eventually, Hogge and Packet were mumbling back and forth. Hogge spoke up, "Yer a damn good trainer, Aidan, the hells keep you from pulling your sword in a tavern brawl?" Aidan laughed it off between assaults. "There are two lessons here besides the one Alexio is learning. The first is drawing a sword in town and harming someone is a great way to stay locked up for a long while: someone has to look after you children." Packet called out, "What's the second?" Aidan didn't answer; he focused just long enough to get struck with Lex's blade. He patted the young man on the shoulder, "Doing very well. We'll keep at it." Gwyn looked to Aidan with worry; he knew she always would over this.

Aidan took a short moment of breath and drank some water out of a skin, offering it to Alexio. "The second is something you all should hear and know.", Aidan said as his gaze fell on the many people standing there. "The more open you are about your capabilities, the less likely a foe is to underestimat you. The more you brag, the more you speak of what you can do, the more someone can look for weaknesses. Samtis, as an example, could best any man here in a fist fight. But he's known to be a kind man who would never raise his fists against a woman. That's honorable, but he would hesitate even if that came to an enemy, a true enemy who was female. We learn by listening and watching, we gain strength through knowledge, and we should be slow to show our other strengths. So that we maintain the upper hand on anyone who doesn't truly know us." Hogge snorted, "See I told you they teach you important shite in them war colleges."

Aidan, after his long day, would find himself sitting at the harbour writing changes he would make, for the townfolks' safety. Wisp came and settled, leaning up against him, "I heard you, you know? hiding strengths. avoiding letting people see what you are and aren't capable of. I should remind you I only take Reveries, so one of your weaknesses is that all night while you're trying to sleep, I can shake your shoulders at every half a candlemark and tell you you're late for work." He smirked and rested his face in her hair, "You are my happiness and my curse. One of these days, I'm just going to lock you in my vault."

[Necrotic Shadows]

Wisdom and Steel

The training sessions took up no small part of the day as he leaned more into making certain that Alexio understood the tactics of battle. "We can always train and prepare ourselves, yet we must imagine that each enemy is our equal or superior until their own ability comes to task. There's no graver mistake than underestimating one's enemy. No darker stain than arrogance. Knowing the difference between confidence in your training and overconfidence is a grey line that becomes clearer with time." Today's session was held within the edgy outcrop of the Cloakwood, some distance from the creatures lurking further within.



The sound of metal clashing with metal might have been enough to draw out a creature or two; however, Aidan used other means to send them fleeing. By now, they would be prey to some other being. They traded positions on the field as master and apprentice tried different tactics upon each other. Alexio lunged, barely missing Aidan's side; however, Aidan took two quick steps forward at the same time he used his arm to trap the blade between his side and arm itself. He wasted no time. Aidan, understanding the threat of such a situation, darted forward. Alexio tried to back away to keep his range. However, his opponent stepped on his closest foot at the same time he shoved his own sword arm sideways, dislodging Alexio's grip on the blade. Aidan let the blade fall, and slowly to show the situation Alexio would find himself in, Aidan moved the blade at an upward arc to tap the farside of his student's head.

There was a look of defeat in his eyes as he gathered himself and picked up his blade, "That would be what you meant by underestimate." Aidan softly patted the young man's back. Alexio had picked up his speech when it came to Aidan. Something Gwyn took to note, he wasn't even that clear with his family. It caused her to wonder if it was impairment or reluctance that kept him quiet and unable to speak. She found it beneficial to let the two men train without prying eyes and gave the boys at the shipyard a stern rebuke if they thought of leaving the shop to watch the swordplay. She had Tomlan there to back up her every word. The friendship, almost a partnership between the two, made it easier not to worry over Peter when he was out to sea.

Days later, what training had started out of town eventually came to the boneyard of Thatcher's Shipwright Co. The afternoon brought rain and with it a new form of instruction, "Lex, all forms of terrain can be an advantage or disadvantage to one warrior or both." They stepped about in the mud, Alex seeing just how dangerous the situation could be. Aidan continued, "You must now be mindful of your steps, stance, and objects around you, as you are your enemy, and eye contact. Do not let it overwhelm your senses; calmness is your guide; if you are calm, you can make more collected decisions in battles such as these." Their long coats caught most of the dampness that didn't flood their boots.



Aidan's words hardly meant anything as both he and Alex shifted, slipped about, and eventually, with a lucky swing, Aidan was struck in the ribs, the leather armor and padding only allowed it to cause slight pain. But Alexio was thrilled, till they both were lying in the mud with no way back to their feet. The laughter could be heard from a distance, even in the hard rain. Regaining their feet once again, the men made their daily practice a priority, though both also worked the yard.

In the night, a still figure watched them from the shadows. A plot brewing in a mind keen and deadly.

[Necrotic Shadows]

Relic and Reports

Like every early morning before the sun was high, Aidan would practice with his student. The fighting grew faster, steadier, and was becoming a dance of war. Aidan hummed as they fought, teaching Alexio the importance of using the song inside his head as the motivation that drives him to take every step, decide every swing, and block. For Aidan, it was just easier to show him by setting the tune outside of himself so that Alex could pick up on how each note represented a different projection of the tactics. These were the base fighting styles attributed to Aidan's sword art. But there were times when the notes ended, when the master had to change forms based on how the student attacked. The tune would stop only long enough for Aidan to use new tactics. Alexio was winning half the fights.

"Just remember Lex, though I'm fighting with vigor, I am holding back. There's no way I can train you to outfight me. That takes experience abroad and years. Some day you will be a better swordsman than many, but that part is for you to find. But it has to be sought humbly; you can't be haughty, boast of ability, because everyone will want to prove they are better. It's better an enemy does not know your capabilities. Short of the people you can truly trust, anyone can end up an enemy." The training continued, and after a time, Aidan would stop making the sound allowed. He wasn't trying to teach his student to be a bard.

Aidan had been working out more with his own attempts to build himself up at home, between these fights. He had hopes higher than ending old as a Shipwright. He loved the days when he could be of use to the Gate in a few of the wars and many of the major troubles that came through the city. Though such a day may never come again, he felt he at least should be prepared, even if all he was going to do was fight off people attacking his shipyard. He loved that his girl teased him about being old, but he was young enough that he was fit and capable.

He could hear his sister in the other room, "We've run out of berries". It was met with a laugh. "Sorry, Myla, that was me. Is my old pirate around here somewhere?", Wisp had asked. He was holding himself in place to train his core, wanting more strength in his stomach. "You know I can hear you. Again... it's Shipwright, not a pirate.... and they're Ships... not b-" He strained under the pressure in his body "not big canoes. I mean I could start calling you Solaris. she says I'm a Shipwright because I right ships. She also loves to say boat more than ships." He let himself down and relaxed, lying on the drawing room floor. "Myla, dear, would you please take the elf with you to the market? I could use some time without her tormenting me." It didn't stop him from smiling nonetheless; both women knew he enjoyed the behavior.

He found himself at work later. There hadn't been a ship in for repairs for a few days, and the docks needed day laborers. So the Shipwright lent out his workers who could handle the heavier labor. Tomlan was left to oversee the shipyard. Gwyn and Samtis stayed as an old relic, a ship that hadn't been used in at least a decade, was pulled into the bay. It would be dismantled for any usable parts. Hardly a fun process, but one that needed doing all the same. Wisp stopped in close to the time the crew would be taking lunch. However, finding just the two workers, the apprentice shipwright, the cook, and Farhana left things feeling empty. So she sat there talking about the amazing pastry she bought at the market. She had shown the people on site. Farhana stepped up "We made a roast, will you have some?"

The sweet girl was always a pleasing sight to see at the shop; all of the workers felt so. "Smell it and let me know, I can dish you up some." Wisp walked towards the kitchen. It took her a few moments to realize no little girl was following. She looked about to make sure she didn't fall in the work pit, then realized her pastry was gone from the table. She gasped out and went in search of the sly thief who took her blueberry tart. By the time she found the girl who was giggling, half the pastry was gone. Wisp snatched her up and brought her back. Taking the rest of her tart and eating it, talking mid-chewing, "You know the next time you do that, do it when I bring Aidan something and leave it for him. But wait till after he gets excited about it."

After everyone had returned and eaten the roast that really was made, the workers finished off the day taking apart the ship, Aidan spent it writing reports for House Portyr, letting them know which cargo his crew had stored in the warehouse. He made a list of other information, including the wood on hand, rope, and metal stock. It was an important part of the day-to-day process of running a shipyard under a company that owned many such facilities. This gave House Portyr and its head noble, or the one responsible for the distribution of materials, be able to move to locations where it's most needed. They would be carried by the Shipwright just before dusk, and just before he returned home hoping there was pie, not a woman standing over an empty pan.

[Necrotic Shadows]

What we are born to do or be. I admit it feels like some days I wake and wonder at the personage. A man walking the street selling milk, was he born to it or was it the scraps that life allowed him? I'm a Shipwright, and why? Because my father was, and his father before him. Each generation passes down the torch and demands the next keep it lit. It's how most work becomes a family trade. I, in my temerity, thought I would further what our family was by removing myself from the trade craft I had spent my entire youth learning. My endeavors soared to heights my father likely would hate. personage, just a form we wear till we know who we are. Most wear the life they were born into and believe that this is all they will be. I was never one to settle. I paid for entry to the War College of Athkatla, between what I had hidden from a father's drunken binge, and paid labor down at the docks.

However, I was a young man then. One who was arrogant, optimistic that he'd meet some lovely women, and far too vain about having any charm. With my head held high, I took to the uniform, bunked in the house with the other students, and dreamed about glory. College would be some days ahead; they were still taking information and learning who they'd be working with among the students. With leave for the time to travel within the city, I found myself at a tavern with a few new friends. Drinks were bought by one of the lads born into opulence, the sort whose family was granted lordship or ladyship for their large, profitable trade businesses. When I turned my drink away, the others laughed and spoke their insults, while I tried to pretend the words didn't have teeth.
Something I would learn later in life to completely overcome, numb to insults of all forms.

It wasn't against better judgment; I knew what I would be walking in on when I chose to go home and inform my father of my decision. The water had fallen from the sky, a complete downpour, and cold, very cold. I remember the last moments with my father. When I told him what I had chosen to do. Everything ugly in him came to light at once, a bolt of lightning in the storm of his morose nature, his drunken impertinence, and his screamed words of anger. I yelled back, hells did I. Till I realized it wasn't the drink alone that would make me like him. I stopped, I let him carry on till he was half out of breath, then nothing, silence. That last memory, walking off and thankful my sister Myla was in the care of others. Knowing in the midst of that rain, in the mud of a small shipyard, stood a man too broken to help. I had learned by then that you can't fix everyone.

At the College of War, I would see training as a soldier, most definitely. However, they learned of my family name and enough to know my previous work. So my studies were directed towards crafting and engineering, as well as the history behind both. Looking back, I could have been more prudent and found another way to go. I was taught to build a list of war implements. It wasn't just constructing ships. I learned to build siege towers, battering rams, trebuchets, ballistas, Catapults, and the devastating porcupine. Defensive structures like archer pavise carts, spiked trenches, and breakaway bridges
Those of us in the engineering department were also trained in laying down traps for the enemy and how to be sappers for enemy walls.

Eventually, yes, we did see that training I so craved to have under my belt. In my second year, though the prior studies continued, we were taught military form. How to fight as a unit, how to fight when you are outnumbered, how to fight one-on-one. However, by this time, I was also quite accomplished at taking women more seriously, not just as some fun casual flings, but instead listening, helping, and caring. I had a love at the time, as I know someday this will be read, I want to keep her memory to myself. There was a point behind bringing up this maturing; I grew to love writing poetry, singing, and taking on the bardic arts in my free time. It became not just an escape from reality, it became a tool as potent as war implements. Though our instructor often punished me with lashings for using the song when we worked as a unit. I understood instead to speak my words in a way that inspired. I could have been a commander, an inspiration on a battlefield.

In my third year, even though I had done exceedingly well, my willingness to motivate those around me had an adverse effect. I was sent to the naval yards. Finishing out my final two years sailing the very vessels I'd grown up building, learning to repair them on the water, seeing every aspect we made of them being used in action. Sure, my father's shipyard didn't create these, but the concepts were the same. Here, my songs were saved for boredom and slow winds. My true use was nothing greater than a boatswain, until my final year, when I was given a raised position. Sadly, war came, and I had nothing in Athkatla to fight for. I'd already had notice of passing for the few people I cared for there. My sister was the exception as she moved with our aunt north before the war, when it was just rumors.

I need not go into the rest of the story to tell you I ended up a Shipwright again, better at it than I ever dreamed. But it wasn't the path I'd hoped to live, it was the path my life was set upon. We would call this vocation, except I will not let my years ahead come down to being a Shipwright. It is not my vocation. I have spent years honing other talents, some very useful. I suppose I write all of this for the men and women who only see the road put before them, and miss the side trails covered in weeds, left forgotten, and a chance that is only there till you've passed it. Dictate your life, do not let your limited life be decided unless it makes you happy. As for my drinking these days, I do it in rare moments. I have rarely been drunk, even while owning two taverns at once. But the hidden gem behind it is that my first drink is taken in remembrance that it tore a family apart, and that I got away from the country those other lads call home. Amnian no more, and not since the war.


Aidan James Thatcher, Shipwright for House Portyr