Cold Nights (Exalted 2.5e) - Einarr Magnuson

[Teal]

Related Threads


Character Sheets/Set-Up - https://www.rpnation.com/topic/103396-cold-nights-exalted-25e-character-creation/


Astrid's Quest (Active) - https://www.rpnation.com/topic/103395-cold-nights-exalted-25e-astrid-mustonen/


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White Sea (Haslanti League) - 23rd Day of Resplendent Fire


Water glittered bright under off the rocky coast of the White Sea. Men and women littered the coast and shallows - most foraging. In their midst, translucent shapes would periodically form, frolicking in sea’s pale and casting small waves about. The sand and stone of the shore, in contrast, seemed far more serene – though a careful eye might notice hints of motion there too, especially where the earth and water clashed, giving birth to a gentle white foam.


Further out, sailing craft plied the waters – most were small vessels of hide or wood, made for hunting and fishing. Rarer were the trading ships – most rotund and single-masted things, bobbing low amid the pale waves – which kept a respectful distance from the shore. Naval ships were rarer still – riding high and armed with shining cannons as they patrolled the waters. Perhaps as many larger – multi-masted – trading ships made themselves known in the White Sea’s shipping lanes - often laden with exotic goods from faraway lands.


Below, in the deeps far from the shore, large shapes could be discerned in the currents of the water. Fortunately, these seemed content to remain little more than mere hints of motion.


All in all, it was a good day to be on the White Sea - the air was even warm.

 

[Overcast]

The warmth of the day was a bit more than the fair skinned Einarr desired and so he found himself lounging in the shade of the sail above him. He was staring out at the water with his striking blueish-pink eyes, but then his whole image was striking to those who could catch a glimpse of him. Most drawing was his platinum blond hair that seemed to shine a faint pink, then his almost glowing alabaster skin. Warm as it was he was shirtless, showing his lightly defined chest, cute trail of that same almost silvery blond hair running in a trail down his chest. Despite his definition he seemed somewhat frail at first glance, short for a Halsanti and not quite as thick. He almost seemed a work of art all on his own, meant to be handled with care. Cutting off that pleasing silver trail were a pair of black leather leggings and adorning his feet were a pair of black boots. Those shipside would see the drum at his side, large and round it was currently wrapped in a large white fur for safekeeping while he wasn't playing it. Those even closer could hear his pleasing hum, giving a pleasant tune for passers by as he stayed out of the bustle on the smaller trade ship, perhaps every once and again casting his eye on someone he hoped might catch him looking.

 

[Teal]

Under the evening sun, sailors moved about the compact deck of the small ship around Einarr. They usually worked in shifts - some on deck, keeping the ship functioning. The others resting - usually in the small cabin that housed the crew's bunks - doing whatever they did to pass the time. There was no denying the efficiency of ship travel in Creation - but there was also no denying how boring it was. Other than work the decks, there was little to do beyond playing cards and telling stories.


Of course, that was why bards were welcome on most of them.


"Hey, pretty boy!" One of the sailors - similarly shirtless, but with a deep tan - shouted, "Sing us a song!"

 

[Overcast]

Einarr's hum turned inquisitive as he perked up his head in response to the calling of one of the men at work around the ship.


He coyly pointed a finger at himself, despite knowing just how pretty he was and how few of them could keep a proper tune, before he smirked and kicked his drum over on its straps and pulled off its fur cover. He unsheathed his thick wooden drumsticks from his sides giving them a few testing clacks together before he slid them across the leather surface of his instrument, testing the tautness of his leather. After a few short beats to assure the tuning was right he shot his heart crumbling smile out at the men on deck,


“A song then? Any requests?”

 

[Teal]

Einarr donned his drum with a clatter and a flourish, striking a few practice notes on its taunt skin.


"A song then?" He asked, smiling radiantly in the direction of the sailor who'd called. "Any requests?"


The sailor who had called out - a youth with close-cropped blond hair - seemed taken aback a moment. It was hard to tell with his tan, but Einarr thought he might be blushing. Even so, the young man shook it off quick enough - "Sing whatever you want, sweetheart!" He laughed, turning his attention back to his work, "I'll have you playing my tone soon enough." The young man threw a confident smirk toward the bard – but it only lasted an instant.


Around the deck, a few of the other sailors chuckled - the blond was probably the youngest one there.

 

[Overcast]

Einarr ran his mallets over his drum, its light scratching squeal accentuating his lifted brow, but stood unperturbed as the young man did his best to pierce the skald's smile with his own flirtatious retort,


“Well then, I guess I should play something for the rest of the crew. I'll show you my skill with the flute later.”


The performer allowed a moment for the men to enjoy his own turn of phrase before dropping his mallets down with practiced timing, shifting into an amusing song that told the tale of a pair of braggart brothers learning a lesson in boasting more than you could back up. A lot of the fun was the boasting itself, as it allowed a lot of room to improvise bigger more ludicrous statements as he moved from one brother to the other. Plenty of time for punchlines before wrapping it up with their comeuppance at the hands of their father a true hero.


Finishing up with a few closing bangs of the drum he crossed the two together and gauged the crowd response to see if he should start running for the lower decks.

 

[Teal]

The skald's words delivered a quick dismissal to the youngster's bravado - drawing a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks and laughter from the rest of the crew. A moment later, the boy joined in - a hint awkwardly - before Einarr added an eyebrow raising own promise of his own. The youngster's next grin was fierce - though more than a little selfish conscious - as Einarr launched into his rhythmic song.


He received only polite applause at its end - mostly from the resting crew, a handful of whom had emerged from the sheltered cabin to take in his spectacle. The others - even his young fan - had grown engrossed in their tasks about the deck. The wind had picked up slightly, requiring more of their attention as the sea grew choppier.


But, it was still a nice day on the White Sea.

 

[Overcast]

A marginal success as far as Einarr was concerned, still perhaps that was best while the men were working. A great performance was best saved for when the men were free. He bowed politely in response to what recognition he got before he re-sheathed his mallets at the drum's side, covered the instrument in its fur, and hoisted the thing onto his back.


With the overall state of above-decks getting a little too rough for him to want to stay, and perhaps to see if he had a more captive audience around for his work, he migrated with his tools below decks.


The sun had never been so kind to him anyway.

 

[Teal]

Later...


The frail light of the waning moon found Einarr upon the deck of the modest trading vessel, after yet another unremarkable day on the White Sea. Without the sun, darkness and cold had settled on the ship - driving most of the sailors to their bunks below. Only a skeleton crew remained on deck - each wrapped in water-proofed furs against the chill. Torches were banned at night - such things would make the ship too obvious, and rob the watch of their night-vision - and conversation, such as it was, kept to whispers, for sound carried on the sea, and petty bandits were always a threat, even within the heart of Haslanti territory


"...what are you, boy?"


The voice - reedy and male - emanated from the figure that had invited him up to the deck at this gods-forsaken hour. Hunched over a cane and bundled head to foot in the skins of marine animals, furs and talismans, the ship's mage was a mysterious figure. Old, obviously, though he had not seen the being's face or skin enough to verify that. Male, more than likely. Dangerous? That reminded to be seen.