Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 25, 2016 23:07:00 GMT
The fine hairs on the back of Thrakazog's neck went up, the way they did whenever a thunderstorm was looming. He used to think it was a 'sixth sense' or some other premonition-like power, but the more he learned about machines, the more he understood what static electricity was. The trouble though, was that there was no 'storm' coming on the horizon. As 'Shelly' had pointed out earlier that day, it was an uncommonly sunny day, and given the weather around Lodan, that was saying something because it was usually rainy. So the only rational reason Thrakazog had for those fine hairs to go up, was that he must have been nervous or excited about the Sveden.
He couldn't even imagine that the charged air might be coming from 'Shelly'.
'Shells' was certainly alert, but seemed to remain calm. He wasn't suggesting they hide, or flee, even though they could have done exactly that - they could have left the rowboat and made tracks inland, eventually finding their way back to Lodan by following the coastline back. But Lasair seemed confident that the Svedes would only talk to them - questioning them. Thrakazog... wasn't so sure.
Sailors were notorious for their tall tales and gossip. It helped to pass the time, both on the docks and at sea. And the crews of Caitlin's various vessels - piratical or otherwise - were no strangers to telling them or hearing them. Many nights since the very first attack, they spoke of the Sveden as if they were monsters or demons who sacrificed humans and did even worse to Anders. There was one such Ander on Caitlin's crew - a young man with wings - and even though Thrakazog wasn't close to him, he'd heard stories about how if the Sveden ever captured him, they'd pluck his wings right off and stuff their pillows with them. Thrakazog shuddered at the memory of that story. He had no love for Anders, but no hate either - he simply didn't know them, or know enough of them. He didn't even know that his beloved Captain was one... or the man he'd brought out here for shells.
He swallowed hard and half-whispered, even though there was no reason to. "Me iz less concerned 'bout dem leavin', den me iz about dem comin'."
Thrakazog was no warrior, but he did feel a certain duty to protect the man he'd brought along if matters turned sour. So he picked up an oar from the rowboat, handling it like it was a twig - though it was far heavier than that. And he watched with Lasair as the Sveden drew closer, eventually entering the rocky cove, and pulling their boat up alongside Thrakazog's rowboat. They could see the two men were unarmed - or appeared to be, aside from the oar. They, on the other hand, were equipped with short knives and clubs. The one in the bow hailed them as he flung a rope at Thrakazog, "Hail, thar! Be a mate an tie us off, aye?"
Thrakazog looked at the rope, then at Lasair, then back again, unsure what to do.
He couldn't even imagine that the charged air might be coming from 'Shelly'.
'Shells' was certainly alert, but seemed to remain calm. He wasn't suggesting they hide, or flee, even though they could have done exactly that - they could have left the rowboat and made tracks inland, eventually finding their way back to Lodan by following the coastline back. But Lasair seemed confident that the Svedes would only talk to them - questioning them. Thrakazog... wasn't so sure.
Sailors were notorious for their tall tales and gossip. It helped to pass the time, both on the docks and at sea. And the crews of Caitlin's various vessels - piratical or otherwise - were no strangers to telling them or hearing them. Many nights since the very first attack, they spoke of the Sveden as if they were monsters or demons who sacrificed humans and did even worse to Anders. There was one such Ander on Caitlin's crew - a young man with wings - and even though Thrakazog wasn't close to him, he'd heard stories about how if the Sveden ever captured him, they'd pluck his wings right off and stuff their pillows with them. Thrakazog shuddered at the memory of that story. He had no love for Anders, but no hate either - he simply didn't know them, or know enough of them. He didn't even know that his beloved Captain was one... or the man he'd brought out here for shells.
He swallowed hard and half-whispered, even though there was no reason to. "Me iz less concerned 'bout dem leavin', den me iz about dem comin'."
Thrakazog was no warrior, but he did feel a certain duty to protect the man he'd brought along if matters turned sour. So he picked up an oar from the rowboat, handling it like it was a twig - though it was far heavier than that. And he watched with Lasair as the Sveden drew closer, eventually entering the rocky cove, and pulling their boat up alongside Thrakazog's rowboat. They could see the two men were unarmed - or appeared to be, aside from the oar. They, on the other hand, were equipped with short knives and clubs. The one in the bow hailed them as he flung a rope at Thrakazog, "Hail, thar! Be a mate an tie us off, aye?"
Thrakazog looked at the rope, then at Lasair, then back again, unsure what to do.