Curn Bounder | July 14, 2010
The Arch of Aroden bridged the expanse of blue water that divided Avistan from Garund. The colossal structure also stood as the gateway from the Arcadian Ocean into the Inner Sea. Though navies often clashed on the disputed waters of the Inner Sea, mariners still expressed feelings of comfort and security once they passed under the Arch, returning from the vast, unknown expanse of the Arcadian Ocean. In that regard, it served as both a bridge for two continents and a border between the known and the unknown.
It was the wonder of the massive monument and the sight of the vast ocean that lay beyond that caused the deck hand to cease polishing the rail and stare out at the wondrous vista. Sailors in Oppara’s taverns often spoke of this marvel, but seeing its beauty for himself nearly brought tears to his eyes. (more…)
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Curn Bounder | June 6, 2010
Caison stood on the bluff overlooking the burnt skeleton of the ship below. Through the darkness he could see embers smoldering in its belly and could smell the smoke that wafted up from the wreck. Amed and Nadilia slept, while Jun kept the watch. Caison should have been sleeping as well. His body ached, and the sling in which Amed had restrained his wounded arm refused to hang just right. The glass he had smashed on his way out of the ship had cut a considerable gash into his arm, and the abrupt stop after a twenty-five-foot fall had battered him. Though Amed had mended the wounds using the divine powers bestowed upon him by Sarenrae, Caison still needed rest to fully heal. Still, he could not sleep. Though the others were all convinced that the zombies who had chased him off the ship had been consumed by the blaze, he felt compelled to watch anyway. (more…)
Category: Serial Novel and Novella, Spit and Polish |
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Curn Bounder | May 2, 2010
Though beached, the ship’s hull remained intact. Somehow it had avoided the rocks at the bay’s mouth. Outside the sun beat down on the white sandy beach, but inside the hold, it was totally dark. Caison slowed his breathing and sat as still as he could in the blackness. He felt certain he had heard something else moving upon his entrance. His journey into the hold hadn’t been exactly stealthy. Inadvertently he had loosed some rigging on the upper deck, causing quite a commotion. He had then found a couple of loose boards on his way across the lower deck and down the stairs. Now, he heard nothing.
Initially the stench of the bilge water, oil, and rot in the hold nearly gagged him, but the longer he lingered the more he became accustomed to it. He waited, unmoving, silent, listening to the emptiness. After what seemed like an eternity of quiet darkness, he heard the scurrying of tiny feet. Confident that no threat awaited him, he rose from his crouching position and withdrew a small torch and tinder twig. Striking the tinder twig, he touched the resulting flame to the torch. Dull, orange light bathed the hold. (more…)
Category: Serial Novel and Novella, Spit and Polish |
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Curn Bounder | April 11, 2010
Caison crinkled his nose against the cleaning solution’s caustic fumes. He thought he’d gotten used to the tear-generating vapors over the past two-and-a-half years, but as he rubbed the cloth over the plaque beneath an enormous Azlanti vase, he felt as if he were smelling it for the first time all over again. Dolan probably made Persh mix the solution stronger than ever to enhance the punishment.
Dolan always had Caison pay off his demerits in Sky Reach’s Grand Hall, so everyone could witness him doing the same chore nearly once a month. They would pass by and openly chortle or snicker while putting on the appearance of disinterested aloofness. He’d done it so often since his arrival to the Grand Lodge that he’d earned the nickname “Buff.” Assistant Sword Master Dolan had a personal grudge against Caison. To be sure, the Initiate often defied his instructors when he deemed their deeds feeble, demands petty, or lessons lacking, and he struggled to form lasting bonds with his classmates. However, Dolan’s punishments exceeded Caison’s offenses. The man took unwarranted pleasure in each sentence he could impose. Caison resigned himself to accepting any punishments the petulant instructor doled out to him. At least the extra chores kept his idle hands from practicing his skills on his classmates.
(more…)
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