Tales from a drunken sailor

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Nevirmore
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Tales from a drunken sailor

Post by Nevirmore » Tue May 02, 2023 11:31 am

The Beginning

As you share a glass with the tall sailor sitting across the table from you at the pub, he recants his tail and history to you
"Trevor Highdale, that'd be me. Iffin you want to know my story, you must know my Kin, and of the place I used to call home. Scardale, A port city on the Sea of Fallin Stars. We were one known for the trades that filled our streets, and flowed through our ports. Was a time, where all manner of men traveled through with their goods to bring to and fro Faerun. Nowadays… we are known more fer our excellent fishers and bastard children of drunkard fathers."
After taking a long pull from tankard, he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his coat before continuing.
"I, meself was born into the Highdale bloodline, once a grand and powerful clan with deep roots scattered throughout the dales. My father, head of our Kin. Marcus Highdale, and leader of our once thriving city, worked hard all his days to maintain order and pride, even as the walls and streets crumble around us from salt an fire. My mother Luna, the gem of my life. Made our hearth a home with everything she did. She made sure I had everythin a Lad needed in life. And kept me sheltered from the sting of hunger, and the pain of the cold in the world."
A look of fondness at the memories in him mind shifts to sorrow as his gaze drifts elsewhere. Before turning back to his drink then meeting your gaze.
"A young age life was grand in Scarsdale… it twas the finest port on the Sea of Fallen Stars. Lived a fine life growin in town, Coin were plenty. eatin everyday, the things ya only take fer granted when ya have'em…."
He takes another long drink before continuing his tale.
"Aye… Scardale was a grand place... Till I became a young man, strong. Still daft as ever. I remember running around the market causin whatever trouble and mischief we could muster. A young lad full of vigor an no place to put it, caused many problems in such a well mannered town. That was the day I first saw it. The first time the plague came ta town."
He shakes his glass around on the table as if he's trying to make it more appealing to his sickened stomach.
"A scream broke that day. A scream that would boil into a nightmare that cast its shadow over our city for the rest of its days… One of our vessels had returned to port. Not in the normal way.. it jes sat there at harbor, no signs of any of the men aboard. After tryin to hail them, they sent a row boat to investigate. The horrors those men musta seen…"
A dark and serious look takes over his expression
"They had brought her to harbor when the chaos started. Every soul on the boat had been stricken by a disease. One the whole village would grow to fear. The first brought off the docks were the few survivors. That's where the screams came from. Lars, when they saw the state of him. He was the captain of the Vessel and a mountain of a man. With eight sailors tryin to carry him thrashing around as if the devils themselves were trying to take him. Beating and battering those trying to help, and himself at the same time. Till luck ran its course and he fell head first to the stones below with a thunderous crash still thrashing and kicking with his face…"
He stops for a long pause regaining his composure before continuing his tale
"The other survivors brought to the church, they had to be bound. but even the strongest of ropes with the tighter knots could do little against their violent shaking. Shortly after seeing what the chaos was my father had everyone give distance bein the smart man he was, he saw what was comin the moment he laid eyes on the dead, little good it was, as it was already too late. The sickness had dug its claws in our lands and we found ourselves at its mercy, and mercy it refused to give. And so the Shakin Plague descended on our city. Leaving a Scar in Scarsdale."
Shifting awkwardly in his chair for a moment his posture switches from the bearish bold man before you to that of the timid young boy he was
"It…Dinna take much time at all over half the town had been stricken dead. My father workin with those who had strength to set funeral piers to burn the dead. Any out on the streets wore clothes over the faces in a daft attempt to save themselves. Of all the deaths in our village there was one, that changed my life forever."
"My mother was trying her best to aid those stricken with the illness spending most her days at the church Aidin the sick, helping them eat an drink as they could not hold still long enuff to to do it themselves. thrashing hard enough to break bones."
He stifles for a moment in his words before looking down at his glass. After a deep breath he continues his story.
"Never saw her face, just her smashing herself against the walls and floor. I awoke to find chaos in my home. People runnin My father hollerin, when he saw me had me ushered away to the neighbors. that….was the last I had seen of her."
"When the plague had finally come and gone. Leaving behind a trail of death, and misery. Gone was the brightness on the smiles of the townsfolk that remained. Replaced by a fear of every cough or difference around them. Gone are the enchanting trade goods and caravans, replaced by widows and bastard children. Gone was the once carefree boy, replaced by a man who had seen his world crumble before him."
A tear comes to his eye, as he chugs the rest of his drink before slamming his tankard to the table
"Shared enough for one evening, mayhaps I'll share the rest anutter time."
With a nod and a stumble the sailor takes his leave for the evening.*

Trevor Highdale


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