Episode 13: The Dance Below Deck

Gokrenxia    Prose    Tales of the Inner Council      Episode 13: The Dance Below Deck

Previously, on Tales of the Inner Council

In the small council chambers of Stoverj Castle, the enigmatic Elven Lord Mirza defended the honor of Vath'azen's Grand Marshall, Lord Davu Pa'lakh, for the murder of a Mahnkii noble boy who had been part of a riotous mob. The boy's mother, Lady Bolor Enebish, sought retribution for the crime. During the debate, it came to light the Enebish family had ties to the Kurzniert Freehold in the Stormbreak Mountains. Mirza suggested the murdered boy may have been in the Spice Docks that day to meet with messengers and spies from the Freehold who had just arrived on the famous Dwarven merchant ship, the Grewinruul.
However, treachery and betrayal were revealed when a trusted member of the King's Guard unsuccessfully tried to poison the ruling council members. In bringing the traitor to justice, Lady Enebish was gravely wounded but rescued by the very same Lord Pa'lakh she sought to accuse. The debate of what to do about the situation was placed on hold while she recovers. For the moment, the fox-like Vyrian still roamed the capital city as a free being.

Spice Docks District, Southeastern Stoverj

Lord Davu Pa'lakh, Vath'azen's Vyrian Grand Marshall, pulled the brim of his hooded cloak further forward in a vain effort to stop the rain from dripping on his orange and white fox snout. The gray, overcast skies matched his stereotypically somber mood as he slowly rode through the streets of Stoverj's Spice Docks district lining the harbor. His offerings to the Celestial known as Lady Tembryan had felt hollow that morning. She felt distant, as if she was dissatisfied with his focus on the affairs of the Council over honing his melee prowess.
He placed a hand over the purple and gold medallion hanging around his neck as the succulent smells of smoked meat from an array of shops and vendors hung in the air, drifting skyward out of hissing, popping fires that protested the rain. Large, covered clay jars likely containing salts and spices from far-away places stood ready for the task of flavoring and preserving the meats with each owners' unique blend.
Surprisingly busy today given the poor weather, he mused. Although with so many mouths to feed it makes sense trade goes on regardless. His trusty steed Sa‘vaad stepped cautiously through the crowds.
I wonder whether the Lords and Ladies of the court have any appreciation for these hard-working souls. The whole of commerce rests upon their shoulders. It certainly was not something he'd given much thought throughout his own privileged upbringing.
With a few coins from his purse, Davu purchased a delicious meat on a stick from an exceptionally thankful vendor. He smiled and treasured the opportunity to move anonymously amongst the people of the city.
My city, he corrected.
He reigned Sa’vaad to a stop, looking around and mentally circling back on the surprising thought while tearing a juicy morsel of charred meat from the stick. The recent words of the Lady Miahn, Aunt to the late King, echoed in the back of his mind.
You are the ruler of a nation. You cannot be who you have always been.
Sa’vaad’s hooves splashing through the gathering puddles as they began to move again. And who have I always been? A warrior willing to throw himself into the fray, to raise a sword in defense of the crown, no matter the cost? I should not be fearless? I should not strive to be the best damn swordsman in the land? What then? Should I be one of the pompous and pandered nobility, completely unable to defend themselves? He shook his head and forced a calming exhale at the pressure and heat building at the base of his neck.
No. Think objectively Davu. What do others say? Reckless? Perhaps. Rigid and uncompromising? I say confident and unwavering.
His increasingly irritated train of thought was cut short as a child burst from between two stands, right into Sa’vaad’s path. Davu’s trusty steed whinnied in surprise and reared, throwing Davu from the saddle, into the mud. The child stopped, pulling back her hood.
The blonde hair. The blue eyes. He knew this girl, having rescued her from the fire just a few days prior.
“Katrina? What’s?”
“Sir,” she smiled and curtsied with great practice. “It’s good to see you again!“ She rushed over, grabbing his arm. “Let me help you up.”
Davu stood, attempting to wipe the mud from his clothes in vain. “Thank you child. What’s the rush?”
Her response was cut short as two guardsmen rounded the corner ahead, shouting “Stop! Thief!”
With a sparkle in her eye and a not-so-innocent smirk on her face, Katrina dipped her head in farewell and took off running. The guards stopped short as they reached Davu.
“Grand Marshall,” said the first in surprise.
“Are you hurt sir?” questioned the other.
Davu made no attempt to hide his annoyance at the question. “Of course not. My… My horse staggered in the mud.” Sa’vaad, being the proud steed he was, turned his head to look at Davu and flubbered his lips in protest. ”It’s not the first time I’ve fallen from a mount, you know.”
The guard backpedaled quickly. “Of course Lord Pa'lakh. And the thief, did she take anything from you?”
Davu chuckled, rolling his eyes with a condescending glance. “As if that…”
Something in the back of his mind stopped his words short. His belt. It was lacking some of it typical heft. Sliding his hand around his waist, his coin purse was right where it was supposed to be. Yet he grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and tried to stay calm as the truth came to light. The girl whose life he’d saved but a few days prior had just made off with his swords!
"Sir?"
Eyeing the hallmark green-wood tower of the massive Dwarven ship anchored in the harbor serving as his destination, Davu sighed resolutely. "No. All is well," he lied. "Thank you men. Carry on."
The matter of the child would have to wait. He had a rough idea of where to find her, and had other issues to attend to where blades would not be needed... Or so he hoped.

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What follows is an Ironsworn RPG solo session. My notes will generally be captured in the form of: Character Initials: action

six-sider/ten-sider/ten-sider-result(Strong, Weak, Miss)

Effect

Show spoiler

DP: Swear an Iron Vow

Locate Tashkerr (Troublesome)

6/4/9-W-+1M

Progress: 0/10

Oracle: Release Idea
DP: Did he pray (Likely 80%)

28/80: Yes.

DP: Secure an Advantage (+iron)

Devotant 2

6/8/9-M-1M

DP: Face Danger (+Edge)

Horse I +1

4/5/10-M-1Su

The Inner Harbor, South of Stoverj

Keeping his cool while trying to politely negotiate with a famished, soaking wet ferryman who'd been shuttling fares back and forth through the cold rain to ships in the harbor all day had been trifling and cost Davu the rest of his unfinished meat stick, in addition to the standard coins. He'd briefly considered just ordering the man to take him, but preferred his anonymity and avoiding further unnecessary attention.
Locating the Dwarven ship Grewinruul hadn’t been difficult. He’d only needed to ask members of the court, many whose names he‘d never cared to learn, or at least didn’t care to remember. It seemed everyone knew about the ”great green vessel” from Rolighav and looked at him as if he’d been living under a rock.
The Grewinruul was apparently the pride of the Dwarves' “8th Fleet” (which begged the question of how many fleets they actually had). Eight seemed like a lot. There was no arguing the Dwarves were far more organized when it came to their ships. It struck him as odd that a people who favored mountainous caves would place such an emphasis on seafaring.
The ship was a slow floating behemoth originally used as a transport for massive numbers of troops and supplies to the front lines during the Great War. Now, it had been converted into some kind of luxury auction ship traversing ports all throughout the Upanje sea. The arrival of the Grewinruul was apparently a much celebrated event, which Davu had, until now, managed to avoid.
But the Elven Lord Mirza had mentioned the ship in the throne room. He'd implied to Lady Enebish, the mother of the Mahnkii youth Davu had killed, that the boy - Aanibus Enebish - might have actually been meeting with someone on the ship. Further, Mirza had all but accused Lady Enebish’s husband of being a traitor to the crown, working secret deals with their kin in Kurzniert. Messages and persons from Kurzniert could easily have arrived with the Grewinruul. Add to that the awaited arrival of the newest Ruling Council member, an unknown Dwarf known as Tashkerr of House Dyber, and all signs pointed to the Grewinruul being Davu's best chance for news and information about the happenings in Stormbreak.
Admittedly, Davu felt out of his depth. Diplomacy was more Yahri’s realm. Subterfuge? Jenta’s. And commerce? Chodvar’s. Davu knew he preferred a more blunt and direct approach to things, tackling problems head on. And as the emerald green wooden planks of the ship’s hull grew larger and larger in their approach, a shadow of doubt crept in. He didn’t have much of a plan: Find someone who knew something about Tashkerr's whereabouts.

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DP: Compel (+heart)

5/3/5-W

DP: Gather Information

2/2/2-M-Crit!

Tips his hand. A plot is afoot!

Weather Deck, Grewinruul

Inner Harbor, South of Stoverj

Climbing up onto the weather deck of the Grewinruul and past two salty-looking Dwarven guards with steel gazes was almost like entering another world. The sheer volume of people crammed shoulder-to-shoulder was almost overwhelming, especially given the exposure to the rain. Myndikin merchants - that is Elves, Humans, and Dwarves with their smooth skin of pinks, tans, and browns - filled semi-permanent stands, forming makeshift streets on the deck in which to peddle their overpriced foreign trinkets and trappings as the herd of people shuffled from one shop to the next. The merchants were far more interested in selling their wares than gossiping with Davu about the happenings in Stormbreak, but suggested he might find a more conducive environment for such conversations below deck.
The line to get below deck was long, but moved relatively quickly. Another pair of tattooed Dwarven guards stood watch at the entrance.
I wonder how many soldiers they actually carry on this vessel, he wondered as he stepped up to the pair.
"Invitation," said one dispassionately, extending his heavily tattooed hand.
Davu looked back over his shoulder, glaring impotently back at the vendors. And of course not one of you bothered to mention this.
"Forgive me, men," he began, "but I need to …"
"...No invitation," the guard interjected, the glare on his face leaving no room for interpretation. "No entry. Please move along."
"Wait," Davu countered. "You don't understand, I..."
The second, slightly older and larger of the two stepped deliberately into Davu's personal space bringing with him a powerful odor of sweat, his hand moving to cover the pommel of his sheathed sword.
"Are we going to have a problem, here?" His breath reeked as though something had died in his mouth. Davu's muscles tensed, itching for a fight as his awareness was suddenly heightened by the rush of adrenaline.
A soft, black-gloved hand gently squeezed Davu's shoulder, pulling him back slightly as an Arjeev woman gracefully skirted around him and inserted herself into the intervening space. Her long cloak and dress flowing between them.
"Please forgive my friend," came her melodic yet high-pitched voice. "The gentlemen is my guest." She shot Davu a mischievous smile and a raised eyebrow over her shoulder as she extended some papers.
Extending her arm for an escort, a mildly confused Davu wasted no time in joining her. Validating the invitation, the guard waved them through and moved on to the next patrons in line.

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DP: Gather Information (+wits)

6/3/9-W-+1M

DP: Compel (+heart)

5/4/6-W-+1M

Below Deck, Grewinruul

Inner Harbor, South of Stoverj

Davu's eyes were slow to adjust as the pair descended into the dimly lit bowels and low-hanging ceilings of the Grewinruul. He paused, taking in his surroundings, shocked to discover that even below the main deck there were still a surprising number of people. Instead of junky baubles from weathered stands though, here there were bonafide storefronts offering much higher quality merchandise. And the patrons? With their stunning array of colorful and expensive garb, they could have just walked out of court in the castle.
The Arjeev woman, who was roughly Davu's height, pulled back the hood of her cloak revealing a wide, oval-shaped mongoose-like head of fine gray fur with large brown eyes encircled with patches of tan that traveled down her petite snout, tipped by a black nose and long black whiskers.
"Who...? Why...? What...?" Davu fumbled embarrassingly over his words.
She smiled broadly. "Come now, sir. Drinks first. Everything else later." She shot him a playful glance. "It's the least you could do. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Why... Yes... Of course." Truly, he wasn't used to these kind of interactions. His disciplined lifestyle left little room for relationships - something his Vyrian family had never understood. "Please," he managed to spit out. "Lead on."
Happily taking Davu by the arm, she gracefully led him down through an array of stairwells and hallways (and up and down again) with a strange familiarity until he'd completely lost track of where in the massive ship they might be. She eventually came to a stop before the open double-doors of a quaint eatery. The artistically crafted sign above read: "Gennadiya's Reef."

* * * * *

The host just inside the entrance of Gennadiya's Reef, a human boy Davu estimated must be in his mid-teens, dutifully took their cloaks revealing the Arjeev mongoose woman to be a slender thing, dressed in an exceptional form-fitting shimmery, silver-blue gown with puffy sleeves and a high blue collar encircling her neck. A silver metal flower-clasp held the collar closed and from it dangled a single, large-leaf pendant of a similar silver-metal - clearly meant to draw the eyes to the deep, sweeping neckline of her dress piped with gold.
All of Davu's thoughts protested in unison. This is not a good idea. And yet, he at least owed the woman a drink for getting him below deck. Right?
The young host ushered the pair to a table situated by a round, bull's-eye window with a small view out over the gray, dreary harbor. The woman leaned forward coyly across the table, chin resting on her wrist. "And now the real question. Just what does the Grand Marshall of Vath'azen drink?"
"I... Try not to. It slows me down," a fact the Ja'nakh poisoner had clearly failed to realize.
"Then we shall be certain to keep our wits about us and have but one." She nodded to the bartender, summoning a pair of drinks with two raised fingers.
"But wait," Davu leaned back slowly, part of him wary and another part mildly embarrassed. "You... know me?"
She laughed melodically "Of course I know you," she began, leaning further in conspiratorially, speaking in hushed tones. "It's not every day a girl encounters a member of the ruling class. Congratulations, by the way."
Davu took a deep breath, trying to shake his discomfort. "You have me at a loss then, madame. You know me, but..."
"Of course you don't," she waved her hand dismissively and rolled her eyes with another alluring smile. "And I wouldn't expect you too. I'm Amina," she said, dipping her head in respect. "I'm a collector, here to participate in the auctions."
"The auctions?"
She grinned with an "oh you poor dear" look and patted his arm. "Yes. On the lower decks of the Grewinruul, rare and exotic items are auctioned to the highest bidders. The competition can get quite... fierce." She shook away some distant thought and brought her full attention back to Davu. "But now you have me wondering, my Lord, why are you here?"
The young human boy appeared at their table carrying wine glasses filled with a deep crimson liquid from the bar, placing them before the pair. Amina nodded in thanks, tapping the fingers of both her hands along the table as she awaited his departure. "Hmm," she mused aloud. "Clearly you're not here for the auctions. You didn't have an invitation to the lower decks, and you're wanting to stay incognito." Her eyes lit up. "A secret task, perhaps?"
"Not so secret," Davu chuckled, shaking his head. "Just not well planned I'm afraid." Amina shoulders sagged in mock disappointment. He chuckled again and shook his head, sipping wine while she watched and waited patiently.
"I'm looking for information," he finally said. "Specifically, news of things happening in Stormbreak and the Kurzniert Freehold."
Amina grimaced. "I'd avoid talking too much about Kurzniert here, my Lord. The Dwarves are still quite touchy on the matter. That said, it so happens I know plenty of people on the Grewinruul. In fact, I think I know just the Dwarf you need to see. I could introduce you, if you'd like?"
He considered for but a moment before nodding in agreement. "Yes. That seems far more likely to be productive than asking random strangers."
"Outstanding," she grinned, clasping her hands. "If nothing else he'll be able to point you in the right direction."
Time passed. One drink turned into two, and then into... Davu lost track at some point as the pair laughed and made small talk about different aspects of life in Vath'azen. Aside from the drinks, Amina herself was intoxicating. It was the first time since the King's passing he'd felt like he was able to simply relax and enjoy himself.
I'd almost forgotten what this felt like. Has it only been a week?
Noting yet another empty bottle on the table, the host came by once again, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. Amina was quick to cover her glass with her delicate hand and shook her head. "Oh no. I'm afraid I've had enough already." Davu nodded lazily in agreement. The boy dipped his head, collected the latest bottle, and departed.
"Come, Lord Pa'lakh," Amina grinned mischievously, standing and holding out her hand. "Let us venture out and find you some gossip."
"This friend," asked Davu, trying to mentally work out whether his current wobbliness was the movement of the ship or the flowing of the wine. "He have a name?"
"Konstantin," she smiled confidently, beckoning again with her hand. Wine won over reason and Davu took her hand as she spirited him away once more into the depths of the Grewinruul.

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DP: Face Danger (+wits)

3/3/10-M

Only 1 drink? No...

-1 to all edge and iron rolls

Meeting Quarters, Grewinruul

Inner Harbor, South of Stoverj

When they passed through the narrow cabin door into the meeting room, Davu found himself somewhat relieved to see they were above the water level. In the distance beyond the portholes framed by luxurious red curtains was his beloved Stoverj. He smiled looking out upon her. He'd never viewed the city quite like this before.
The room itself appeared to be a small place for gatherings. He imagined there were many like it scattered throughout the vessel. Heavy wooden couches with leather cushions lined the walls to either side of the room. A single rectangular wooden table with two legs and extended feet was slid against one. Next to an outer door, presumably to some sort of balcony, a weathered desk was built into the back wall. On its shelves stood a handful of books. A low bench was pulled out from it, enticing the more academically-minded to sit and indulge themselves in knowledge and learning.
The main area of the floor was covered with a worn red and black rug bearing a large symbol of a skull with two crossed javelins forming an X behind it that was unfamiliar to Davu. He and Amina engaged in more small talk, ultimately waiting a short time before the door opened, drawing both of their attention.
In filed two thick, well-armed, heavily tattooed Dwarven men followed by a smaller but menacing black and brown leather-clad Dwarf. His head was shaved on either side, with a tuft atop that came to a point on his creased forehead. Tattoos dotted his left temple and both of his cheeks. The form-fitting leather pauldrons on his shoulders bore intricate designs. Highly-detailed tattoos were exposed from the skin of neckline, down the lengths of both arms, to the backs of his hands and even across his fingers. Front and center on his chest was a single skull with something akin to a gemstone protruding from its forehead.
Everything about the man said "business." Perhaps it was the wine, but Davu almost blurted out a sarcastic remark about the whole show, but thought better of it at the last moment seeing the fearful look in Amina's eyes.
"Konstantin," started Amina with smile, the trill in her voice betraying the fact she was trying to downplay her own apprehension.
The Dwarf reached behind his back. Davu's muscles tensed, preparing for trouble. With but a glance, Konstantin locked eyes with Davu - an unspoken warning. To their credit, Konstantin's guards didn't flinch.
Professionals, thought Davu.
The Dwarf slowly drew a scroll case, tossing it to Amina who caught it in her chest with great surprise.
"Your job here is done," he began in his thick Stormbreak accent, never taking his gaze from Davu. "Your license to bid at the auctions is approved for 10 moons."
Amina fumbled to open the casing and review the document. She glanced at Davu apologetically, who sighed, shaking his head. Clearly, this was no chance meeting.
"And my artifact?" She questioned.
"...Is up for auction this evening," Konstantin responded, keeping his eyes on Davu. "...if you'd care to bid on it..."
"You bastard!" She yelled. Amina surged forward. Moving with finely-trained precision, Konstantin's guards caught her by either arm. "You promised to..."
Konstantin raised a hand, meeting her gaze with an intense stair that immediately silenced her. "You are testing my generosity, devyadchen. Take your license, and go." He turned to Davu, "Or stay here and deal with the repercussions of more poor decisions."
Amina shook loose angrily from the two guards, glancing sadly again to Davu before fleeing from the room. One of Konstantin's guards moved to the door, sliding the locking bar into place.
This isn't going to end well for someone, Davu sighed.
Konstantin motioned toward one of the leather-cushioned couches. "Please. Sit, Grand Marshall." Davu complied as Konstantin poured himself a drink from the flask on the table.
"Can I offer you a drink?"
Quite certain he'd had enough, Davu simply shook his head in response.
"Your loss," Konstantin shrugged. With a full glass of strong-smelling amber liquor in hand, the muscular Dwarf plopped back into a cushioned seat across from Davu, reclining and casually crossing his legs.
"Now," he began, sipping his drink. "What do you want here, Lord Pa'lakh?"
Davu made an exaggerated glance to the guards. "What makes you think I won't lie to save my own skin?"
Konstantin smirked. "Given your complete lack of subtlety in announcing to the members of your court you were looking for the Grewinruul?" He shrugged smugly. "Let us call it a hunch."
Need to work on that, Davu mentally chastised. He nodded, taking a deep breath, slowly scanning the room for anything he might be able to use as a weapon. "So the woman, Amina? That was all your doing? And the girl in the market, the one who stole my swords? You as well?"
Konstantin smiled proudly. "Yes. I needed to discourage that... temper... I have heard you have. I hoped we could have a civil conversation."
"You have my undivided attention," Davu replied, unable to hide the menace in his tone.
"No, please." Konstantin countered in feigned politeness. "You have gone to a great deal of trouble to get here. We are curious what Kungaroun can do for the new rulers of Vath'azen."
Davu sighed. "I assume you've heard the news of this Dwarf appointed to the Ruling Council? We need to find him. He isn't safe."
Konstantin nodded, sipping from his drink and carefully contemplating his response. "The Istoyaver lad did not board the Grewinruul," he began. "When we made port in Sanysgal we heard the news. There were rumors about some trouble involving a Dwarf travelling through the area under the protection of one of your kind - a Vyrian dog-man going by the name of Kharveg, if I remember correctly." Davu tried to hide the snarl at the derogatory term for that segment of his people. "Unfortunately I did not get the specifics."
"Then I guess we're done here," Davu answered flatly, standing.
"Not quite," Konstantin countered, motioning for Davu to sit back down. Begrudgingly, Davu complied. "You should know, Lord Pa'lakh, you have a fairly sizable list of people in your own kingdom willing to pay good money to see you, or not see you as it were, wrapped in chains and bobbing at the bottom of this harbor."
The threat was unmistakable. "Yet here we are, still talking," Davu responded, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up and assessing the layout of the room in the event things went south. "What do you want?"
Konstantin leaned forward slowly, elbows on his knees. "Kurzniert," he said, a fierce fire in his eyes. "Before you respond," he continued, "listen." Being talked to like a child sent a wave of anger reverberating through Davu's body. "House Zunoch is almost ready to retake the lands stolen from us in the Great War. We are not asking Vath'azen to aid us. We are asking you to stay out of our way."
"Not a chance," huffed Davu. "I'll not condemn those people to death, even if they aren't citizens of Vath'azen!"
Konstantin shrugged and shook his head in mock disappointment, setting his drink down on the table beside him. "It is a shame. I had hoped we could work something out. But it seems then I will need to replace you with someone more amenable to Kungaroun's goals, and," he smirked, "get paid in the process." He nodded to his two guards, who drew their swords and rushed forward.
Davu sprung up, finding himself surprisingly lightheaded, but focused enough to sidestep the stabbing point of a blade targeting his heart. Grabbing his attacker's sword arm, Davu twisted downward, shouldering the mountain of a Dwarf backward. With a sharp inhale of pain the surprised guard's grip came loose, the sword falling toward the floor. Davu dropped down, gracefully plucking it from the air. It was short, slightly curved, and unexpectedly top heavy, but it would have to do.
Lunging forward, Davu slashed diagonally down across the first guard’s shoulder. He exhaled hard, his stomach sour between the wine, the adrenaline, and the rush of movement. The second wasted no time in taking advantage of Davu’s hesitation to press his attack, bumping the table hard as he passed. The expensive liquor bottle launched over the edge, but Konstantin’s reflexes were quick enough to save it.
Davu’s mind irritatingly noted at all the things he needed to do, but his body was slow to respond. Footing’s all wrong. Sandwiched between two opponents. Sword’s too low. He spun, barely blocking the second guard’s horizontal swipe at his neck with the resounding clang of metal on metal. The Dwarf’s forward momentum pressed him back, pinning his sword arm against his chest.
Short on options, the Grand Marshall pulled back his fist and slammed it into the Dwarf’s jaw. Davu’s eyes went wide with the surprising amount of pain that shot through his hand. It was like hitting solid stone. His mouth dropped open and face scrunched in a pained expression. Konstantin sipped his drink, looking on and shaking his head disapprovingly.
The unarmed guard lurched in from Davu’s left with a solid strike to the kidney. Deceptively quick, he grimaced, left elbow flying backwards into the guard’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Keeping his attention split between his two assailants, Davu was more than prepared for the armed Dwarf’s next attack, a stabbing strike for his head. With a quick parry and spin of the wrist, Davu forcefully loosed the second sword from the guard’s hand. Sailing across the small chamber, the sword plunged itself into the wall; barely missing Konstantin’s head!
Davu vaulted over the table, dislodging the sword as a surprised Konstantin scrambled away from the melee, drink and bottle in hand. A sword in each hand, Davu was beginning to feel like himself. He unclasped his mud-stained cloak with a thumb, shrugging it to the floor with great flourish and revealing the gold and purple thistle medallion resting upon his chest.
Both guards’ eyes widened with realization. That medallion marked Davu as a chosen follower of Lady Tembryan. It meant he was exceptional in his particular art - the art of swordplay.
“Why are you standing there,” yelled Konstantin. “Kill him already!”
Swallowing their momentary fears, the two acknowledged their ward and engaged. Davu maneuvered right, putting his back to the outer door of the ship and narrowing the wide-shouldered Dwarfs' lane of attack. Several quick slashes of his swords sent the nearest guard to the floor. Davu cracked his necked to either side and raised an eyebrow to Konstantin with a taunting smirk.
But no sooner had it appeared that it fell from his face. The orange fur lining the back of his neck began to stand on end. Something’s very wrong, had barely crossed his mind when, with great fanfare, the main door to the cabin exploded inward in a flash of orange and yellow light.
Splinters rained down upon the occupants as a pale-skinned human woman with red-ringed eyes stepped through the opening. Long white braids of hair framed her angular face. She wore wrapped robes the reds and oranges of sunrise, offset with tasteful accessories of gold. Wisps of glowing, fiery energy trailed the movements of her arms. Three more Dwarves filed in behind her, weapons at the ready.
She shot a glance to the Dwarf lying on the floor, the second startled guard cowering in the corner, and an irritated Konstantin picking shards of wood from his drink. Finally locking eyes with Davu she drew back her right arm, speaking unintelligible words of power. The threads of mystical energy leapt from her fingers, spinning themselves together into a hovering ball of lightning, which she hurled straight at him.
Davu frantically dodged to one side, barely escaping the crackling energy. Missing its intended target, the lightning ball slammed into the outer wall of the ship in a thunderous explosion, leaving a gaping hole in its place.
A flabbergasted Konstantin's voice rose, betraying a healthy mix of anger and fear. "You fool! You will sink the ship!"
Knowing the odds of this fight had solidly turned against him, Davu wasted no time in climbing through the hole and diving into the harbor. His adversaries crowded to the balcony, scanning the churning waters for any sign, but it was no use. The Grand Marshall would live to see another day.

To Be Continued...

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DP: Reach a milestone

Locate Tashkerr

Progress: 3/10

DP: Secure an Advantage (+wits)

7/4/5-S+2M +1 next

DP: Enter the Fray (+iron)

Formidable 0/10

+1 advantage

-1 drunk

7/7/8-M-Bad spot

DP: Face Danger (+iron)

Disarm

-1 drunk

8/3/6-S+1M

In control

DP: Strike (+Iron)

-1 drunk

6/1/2-S

Progress: 2/10

DP: Strike (+iron)

-1 drunk

3/3/9-M

Burn Momentum 7/3/9-W

Progress: 4/10

Bad spot

DP: Face Danger (+iron)

Disarm

-1 drunk

3/2/8-W-1H

Success – Dual Wpn!

Bad spot

DP: Endure Harm

10/3/6-S+1M

DP: Secure Advantage (+edge)

Duelist

-1 drunk

3/3/9-Reroll 3/9 (duelist)

5/3/3-S-Crit!+2M+1next

Oracle: Remove religion?

In control

DP: Strike (+iron)

+2 Duelist

-1 drunk

+1 next move

10/3/7-S

Progress: 7/10

DP: Strike (+iron)

+2 Duelist

-1 Drunk

10/9/10-W

Treat as M (Duelist)

Bad spot

DP: PtP

45 – New enemy revealed

DP: Face danger (+heart)

Magic

-1 drunk

7/2/2-S-Crit!+1M

In control

DP: Face Defeat

30 – Collateral damage