The deck hands rushed about, preparing for docking. Rowan TrueMoon watched them scurry across the deck, thinking how much they reminded her of the herding animals from her forest. Most of this journey she had felt out of place, though a few moments here and there felt like home. These grounded her. She brushed a hand over her hair absently, tugging gently on the plaited braid which fell to her waist. It was a habitual action, driven from frustration.
[su_note note_color=”#921d22″ text_color=”#d6d6d6″ radius=”10″]The following is a fictionalization of “The Dominion of Essalund” adventure as told through the eyes of the character of Rowan. You can watch the full videos on our YouTube channel or live every other Sunday at the DotGeek Twitch channel. (Above image “Pirate Hideout” by Nele-Diel)[/su_note]
Finely crafted buildings the likes of which Rowan had never seen rose in the distance behind them. Statues so finely carved they seemed on the verge of drawing breath stood vigil were seen. They stood in front of many buildings, decorated their walls and roofs, and guarded their doorways. These seemed to be the only figures to linger in this wide area, as an infectious haste on the verge of hysteria encroached on all around. The whole place seemed to Rowan on the verge of stampede. What could be the cause?
“Get UP! And get out!” The Captain of the vessel had her hand wrapped in the shirtfront of the man who had been sleeping, and was pulling him up from his resting place on the rail. “You’re here, this is where you wanted to go… Now get OFF my boat.”
The man staggered forward under the momentum of the Captain’s shove. He stumbled a step before catching himself, tugging his rumpled shirt back into place.
“Thanks for the lift,” was muttered as he spun toward the plank. He turned at the top of the rail, looking over his shoulder as he descended toward shore.
“The accommodations were WONDERFUL,” he said cheerily.
“Get OUT!” Came the Captains reply, her tone laced with distaste.
“Have a good… Day…” The man drifted off, shrugging his shoulders, then continued to the dock. Other patrons on the ship’s deck followed suit, walking slowly behind the man who could be heard muttering, “I’m going to write a SCATHING review,” under his breath.
The coquettish female approached the Captain, offering her hand and looking her warmly in the eyes.
“I thank you. My lodgings were wonderful.” The Captain brought her hand to her lips.
“You are most welcome, Milady.” Obvious respect colored her words, replacing their earlier heat. The woman nodded her head at the Captain once, then turned on her heel and followed the patrons down the plank.
Rowan shook her head slowly at all this, unable to keep up with the whimsy of these humans. Having been so long in the forests of her people, she had never had the opportunity to see such conversation. Apparently she had much to learn of the interesting practices of humans.
Rowan drifted slowly down to the docks, settling her cloak around her. She touched her staff to the ground for the first time in this new land, distantly aware of the cloaked figure descending behind her. The majority of her attention was consumed by the muchness surrounding her. On the ship she was able to maintain some distance, to center herself. It seemed that here, on the docks of this vast city, she was to be wholly overwhelmed.
The smells abrading her nose were nigh overwhelming. The acrid smoke from cooking fires, the stench of crowds of unwashed bodies pressed close together in the markets, the metallic bite of swords and armor from the soldiers who patrolled the dock… The scents were myriad, each mixing together with others to provide an incomprehensible veil, clouding the elf’s keen senses. Rowan drew her cloak close, huddling in its shelter. She tried to catch some of the familiar scents of home which still lingered on her clothing.
Thankfully Rowan’s sight seemed unaffected by this new onslaught, so she took in every inch of terrain and civilization she could see. Men patrolled in intervals across the docks and harbor, eyes wary and trained, armed to the teeth, hands resting against weapons as if they expected enemies to approach at any moment. They scanned quickly across the faces of each person who crossed their paths, daring them to linger with resolute gazes. Fishermen and merchants bustled back and forth, guarding their wares, no time wasted noticing the goings on of those around them.
As Rowan came to a stop on the docks, she noticed a few others doing the same. The human male stood off to one side of the landing area, flipping a coin absently in the air as he scanned around him.
Other than the sailors who hurried about their tasks, the ship was quickly emptying of all life. An eerie calm descended. Rowan tightened her grip on the staff in her hands, drawing it close about her as she watched the last few people disappear around corners. Her other hand unconsciously drew up to her chest, pressing on her sternum and attempting to center herself. She had a feeling she was going to need calm. Something was not quite right in this place.
A heavily armed figure strode forward, an air of authority lingering over him. His splint mail shone brightly, obviously well cared for and well seasoned. Across his middle stretched a wide leather belt, which seemed full to nearly bursting with several swaths of colored fabric. Two less finely garbed figures followed promptly behind him. Across his right arm was tied one such length of fabric, an interesting brown color. Two less finely garbed figures followed promptly behind him. His armband’s ends dangled about his elbow, and fluttered as he walked briskly before stopping in front of the travelers.
“Welcome to Norrisea. My name is Registrar Delphine.” As he drew near he stopped, hands held up to halt their progress. “I hope you had a pleasant journey? Good. Pursuant to section twenty-five-point-four of the Norrisea Violence Mitigation Proclamation, may I please have your names and professions? You, Go.” He pointed a finger straight at Rowan’s chest, his demeanor broking no argument.
These humans are so brash. Have they no respect for foreigners? She thought to herself, before answering. As she thought, the Registrar pulled a heavy tome from his satchel. He opened the book and turned to a blank page, then looked expectantly up at her. He was obviously waiting for her reply.
“I am… Rowan Truemoon. I have no ‘profession’ as such…” She trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.
“Really? What are you doing here?” he asked skeptically.
“I am… wandering. I am… on a mission.” Her curt reply came forth grudgingly, and she quickly thought through the best way to relay her purpose. She knew her quest must remain her own, and could not know what pieces of information she could safely share to belie suspicions here.
“…Really? What kind of mission?” Registrar Delphine’s tone was clipped, his eyes on the book in front of him as he wrote furiously.
“I was told to leave my native land. I do not know my destination yet, but I know I must go.” Rowan’s tone was dismissive.
“Wait, you were told by who?” The Registrar seemed to pierce her with his gaze, taking in every detail of her bearing.
“That is a highly personal question,” she replied haughtily. His eyes narrowed, seeming to weigh options in his head. Finally he nodded sharply and turned. His eyes locked onto the next of the travelers, the woman with the pearl.
“Name and occupation, please.” His finger pointed directly at her.
“My name is Malibu, and I am on Vacation.” The woman inclined her head regally towards him.
“Vacation!” He brightened visibly. “That sounds OUTSTANDING. Where are you from?”
“I am from House Mattel.” The name meant nothing to Rowan, though it seemed to bear weight in her telling. It seemed she was expecting this announcement to carry some favor with their questioner, though Rowan could see no visible reaction.
“House Mattel? I see. Thank you very much,” Registrar Delphine said. “How long are you planning on staying here?”
“Oh, just a few weeks.” She waved her hand as if that amount of time were inconsequential.
“Thank you, thank you very much. And you, there? Name and profession.” He turned again, pointing to the hooded figure who had descended behind Rowan and stood close by.
“My name is Nala Drachendandion, and I am a Ranger.” The voice was distinctly feminine, though much deeper in tone than Rowan would have expected. The words had an interesting lilt to them, much different from her own or that of the humans around them.
“A Ranger?” Delphine said, somewhat disbelievingly. “Interesting Ranger… Ranger, would you be casting any spells?” The look which followed this query caused Nala to pause before answering.
“Um… No. No, I will not be casting any spells. Nope. No spells.” Registrar Delphine looked down his nose at Nala.
“You’re not a… No? NO spells? Ok. Thank you. Outstanding, good to know. Sir?” He addressed the last of the travelers, who still stood flipping his coin absently.
“Bux Dumbcough. Nice to meet ya.”
“Nice to meet you as well. Your profession, Sir?” The returning smile which greeted this question held mirth.
“Gentleman Adventurer.” Came the proud reply.
“Gentleman adventurer, eh? What is your reason here, sir?” The Registrar scribbled away in his book as he spoke.
“Oh, look at this town!” Bux gestured broadly to the city around him. “This is MY kind of town. There’s things going on, there’re people walking around… There’s surely some COIN to be had…” He drifted off as he turned in a circle, a wicked gleam in his eyes at the thought.
“There is POTENTIALLY coin to be ha-..” The Registrar interrupted his own statement and stopped, brow raised in surprised shock. “You haven’t… Heard much, have you?”
“I… I am new to the Dominion of Essalund!” Bux offered in way of explanation.
“So, what brought you to Norrisea?”
“Uh… Adventure! Excitement!” The Registrar lowered his brow again at this. His former, formal tone crept back into his voice.
“Really.”
“Excuse me, but what do you mean by your statement, Registrar?” Malibu interjected, stepping forward again. “What do you mean, we haven’t heard much? What exactly is happening here?”
“Well…” Delphine began. “I believe that is a tale for another-“ A bell tolled loudly in the distance, snaring the Registrar’s attention and ending his train of thought. He looks up in the direction of the alarm, raising an arm to silence the travelers.
“Shh!!!” He listened. Suddenly another bell chimed in on top of the first, beginning a cacophony of bells which resonated across the breadth of the city.
A scuffle came from around a nearby corner. A single guardsman rounded the bend, making a beeline straight for the Officer.
“Registrar Delphine! They’re BACK!” the soldier ran straight toward him, skidding to a hasty stop. Delphine furrowed his brow, his whole posture assuming a rigid, alert stance as he scanned the surrounding area.
“Where? Where is the breach?”
“There’s no breach! We don’t know where they are coming from!” Delphine threw his head back, expelling a frustrated breath. He turned to the other guards, pointing in the opposite direction and drawing his sword.
“North Wall, GO!” The guards drew their swords in turn, sprinting in the direction Registrar Delphine had pointed.