Truman Caine - The Legacy of Duty

[Eclipse]

((This page will serve as a loose recollection of written and spoken experiences for Truman. It's purpose is to deliver insight to the character, and also provide entertainment and a source of information as to what he's done/seen. If you've chosen to read these parts of True's tale, take a moment to send me a PM with feedback. As a writer, I'm always looking to grow and improve.))

The Sword Coast - Waters

...The smell of the sea and feel of the ocean breeze dominated Truman Caine's senses as he stood aboard The Siren's Folly. The carrack vessal had been his home for several monthes. The captain and crew had requested temple assistance out of Neverwinter, in hopes that a priest could magically assist them as they weathered the storms to deliver essential cargo to Baldur's Gate. Truman had come at the behest of his mentor, Alexander Kraven. The elder priest had hoped the experience would offer Truman valuable insight into the service of Helm and had charged the young ward with the protection of the crew itself, even at the risk of his own life. He took this duty seriously despite the fact that the course so far promised to be an uneventful one.

Truman's chainmail creaked as he walked up the wooden stairs to the forecastle deck, peering over the railing. His eyes strained to pierce the thick mist that had clung to the ship since the morning swell. The Folly's crew had halved the sails, every sailor on board was wary. The older sailors whispered of superstition as they went about their assigned tasks, word of bad omens spread through the crew like wildfire. Captain Mason stood at the helm, flanked by the usual helmsman, Vance, and his aasimar first mate, Gabriel. Captain Mason was a simple man, his tri-horn hat bleached brown by the many days of sun on the Folly, his breeches were clean and a high-collar leather shirt gave off the impression of prior naval service. His first mate wore simply clothing, a green shirt and breeches, a gentleman's rapier hung from his belt, though he clearly knew how to use the blade. Truman eyed the pair appreciatively as they both ordered the crew, men scurrying to complete their assigned task. True finally spotted Alexander on the main deck, his hands aglow with light as he incanted a prayer to his deity. Wind swept around the elder priest, a massive gust of wind clearing the mist surrounding the ship, bringing about a brief moment of scared silence...

Suddenly the ship was ablaze with activity, Cap'n Mason shouted warnings and issues orders for battlestations as Truman's eyes laid bare on what had sent the crew into a frenzy. Another vessal, less than 2 bowshots away, had managed to approach in the fog, flying colors of Luskan. A voice carried from the deck of the vessal, a staff raised from a black figure at it's deck, the mist slowly receding back into the staff. The voice rose over the sea, the figures fingers splayed as hands went out towards The Folly, fire erupting at his fingertips.

Captain Mason ripped the helm starboard. The ship audibly creaked, before a loud snap was heard. The men aboard immediately knew the harsh turn had snapped their rudder, there could be no further explanation, they were dead in the water. The ship buckled as the captain shouted. "Brace fer impact, boys! We ain't outta this yet!" Truman saw Alexander lose his footing, The elder cleric continued his chant, a spell of summoning called out over the ship. Immediately, a blue light flashed as a being of pure fire came into being, the elder cleric pointed at the travelling fireball, shouting to the elemental "Keep the blast from the ship, and your service is done!" The elemental crackled in it's own language, moving to the edge of the ship and leaping for the mage's spellfire, throwing it's body before the blast, the spell and creature disappearing in an explosion that sprayed The Folly with sea.

The crew cheered for the priest, whom couldn't help but offer a smirk as Truman looked down admirably at the seasoned follower of Helm, thankful he'd been blessed with such a teacher. Their cries were cut short by a familiar voice on the wind, incanting another arcane spell. Alexander moved to counter, incanting to Helm as a small ball of green light headed for the enemy mage, wrapping the mage in a silence spell a moment too late. 14 magical bolts flew from the caster's fingertips, each individual bolt slamming into the exposed hull of the ship. Crew and cleric like lost their footing on the deck as the ship was slammed by the bolts. The magical projectiles ripping apart the wood of the hull, tearing the ship a wide hole in the water, The Folly was going under.

Above the commotion and panic, Alexander shouted an order to Truman.
"True! There's still crew below decks! Remember your duty."

Truman's body exploded into action, diving below decks and into the cold sea. The water had already progressed up to his knees as he spotted several crew pinned beneath debris and cargo, screaming through the water for assistance. The work was slow, each piece of debris grew heavier with fatigue and the weight of the water as Truman worked to save the trapped crew. True had saved all that he could, but the water was rising faster than he could rescue his fallen copatriorts. Diving under the water, he saw the ship's cook, Delor, trapped beneath a support beam near the bottom of the hull. Truman swam with all of his might, adrenaline coursing through him as he tried to lift the beam pinned Delor to the floor. Delor's form floated unconsciously as Truman' labored, eventually freed. Truman swam hard to the stairs, placing Delor on the unsubmerged stairs when the ship gave another lurch. The mage...

Alexander's spell having worn off, the Luskan mage let loose another devastating spell on the sinking vessal. The missles splitting the ship clean in two. As Truman handed off Delor to rescue, the hall above the stairs collapsed, the heavy wooden beams slamming into the young cleric's head, throwing his unconscious body back into the cargo hold. True's thoughts swam as the sea once again dominated his senses. He tried to will his body to move, but he could not find the strength. His fingers grasped the metal binding of a barrel sealed full of spice from the hold, stopping his descent. True's last thoughts before unconsciousness were of his elder cleric, and then Helm... He lost consciousness, knowing that if he died, he would have died doing his duty.