| On Route to Seagard |
| Summary: | Aboard the Riptide, Theodane is curious about their journey. |
| Date: | 3/3/2013 |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
  |
| Ironman's Bay, the Sea |
| April 290 AL. |
Theodane pressed his chest against the wooden edge of the ship’s bow where deep blue waters were parted below by their wind carried movement. Matching eyes stared in wonder at the mysteries held beneath the depths, her secrets only known to dead and those that dwell naturally in the deep. To gain a closer look the young blond haired boy raised onto tips of his toes. And that was when an unsuspecting hand laid unto his shoulder, ripping his gaze towards the intruder. “Father!” Once recognition set in his eyes returned to absorbing the distant waters ahead.
Bryon took a stand beside his son, embracing the lad with one hand laid to rest on the right shoulder protectively. “What do you see boy?” He asked as the salted sea mist dampened his cheeks and lips.
“Jelly fish. And land, is that the home of the Reavers?” The boy asked curiously, pointing a dirty finger towards the distant blurred formation appearing more like a creature’s fin then any structure of worth.
“Not on our course.” The father stroked the back of his son’s head, answering in a gruff reply where many years of shouting commands over the sounds of hasty movement upon the deck to carry out over the resonance of waves crashing against the hull. “It lies there.” Bryon corrected his son’s field of vision, pointing due north and further west, closer to where the sun was setting. “Where the cowards underestimated our forces. And their home, an isolated pile of shit.” There was no hiding the hint of pride in his voice.
Theodane followed the direction of his father’s gesture, squinting then raised a hand to shield back the threat of a setting sun. “But they’re not all dead are they?”
Behind them one of the men from Bryon’s crew was rolling a barrel below deck with aid of another. They grunted while trying to work with the ships rocking motion. Above a small group of seagulls cried for food. “No, a damn shame and they give thanks to their pitiful god for it.”
Theodane lowered his hand, now folding both arms across the wooden ledge to lean all his weight upon it. “Won’t they attack again?”
Bryon gave his son’s shoulder an assuring pat before responding in his haggard voice, “If we’re lucky they will and maybe, by that time, you’ll be of age to captain a ship and send all those fucking squids back to their sea god.”
No doubt the prospect of being his own captain made the young Wyncliff’s brighten, his smile deepened against his chubby freckled cheeks. “Is that why uncle makes you patrol these waters? For when they attack?”
It was not the reason however a boy so young in years held no grasp in understanding the politics of nobility and worst of all the politics of siblings. Bryon did not answer at first, only withdrawing his hand from his son’s shoulder to shortly after fold both arms beneath his chest. “Yeah… that’s it.” He lied but the boy wouldn’t know any better. “Keeping the pretty folk safe in their keeps.”
