Happy Birthday

[Galloglasses]

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Today was not a good day for Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore.

Not a good day at all.

For you see, it was the day of his 20th birthday, and after a hearty celebration in his family abode in that thrice old port town with its thrice damnable merchant families and thrice damned feuds, he was in the midst of his drunken stupor, tricked onto a boat by friends and kin, and shipped to sea that very same night. For as his brothers, not to his knowledge mind, were wounded mortally in a three way feud with two other merchant families, the Falcionites and the Communitori, he was the last of his line and his family, sensing their imminent destruction, decided to send him away to safe havens with no more a goodbye then the half memories of his party and the gift of tearful letters of a mother who will never again see a son.

Letters he will never read because, you see, the ship itself was sabotaged. and as he lay there sprawled amidst rope and other storage detritus of a ship's hold, gently hugging a rather big stick made out of oak and palmetto, a bow in fact, but he never knew that, he was too busy have a deep dreamless, snoring sleep, the gunpowder, unfortunately, was ignited and a rather large hole was blown in the side of the ship, with the saboteurs taking flight with the only good lifeboat, having sawed perfectly circular holes in all other means of watery salvation.

Fredrich, naturally confused, hungover and generally disorientated, angry and pissed out of his mind terrified upon waking up half drowning in water, panicked, and blacked out all the quicker for it. his body clutching the big soggy,now even more soggy, stick pinned between his unconscious body and large section of the ship's hull floating aimlessly out into the choppy waters of the sea, as the sailors screamed with their last breaths for far away and long dead mothers and desperate utterances, prayers and pleas to the gods, as the saboteurs received their blood gold and their benefactors revelled long into the night in victory.

And while whether or not the gods answered the prayers of the sailers will always be up for debate, one, strange god, decided to intervene.

Now this will just not do, a strange, oddly resonant voice started in Fredrich's head. And with this the unconscious blackness of Fredrich's mind became alarmingly concious and if possible, even more black.

"Who is there? Fredrich replied into the blackness of his mind, at least he thought it was his mind, with his own disembodied voice. Show yourself! I demand this of you lest I go mad!"

No, shut up The strange voice replied And listen, Human child

"I am no mere child! Fredrich replied angrily, I am Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore! I am a man full grown and heir to my father's name!"

Again, do shut up the voice repeated, with a little irritation, Whatever you are, I am a God and I am not pleased, it stated Listen. Now. Your family is dead and you are floating at sea, also about to be equally dead and twice as wet, Now-

"My family.... is dead? Fredrich whispered disparingly, his world becoming more shattered with each passing minute."

Yes, yes! Your bloody family is dead! Would you listen you bloody worm you! By ME its no wonder I never bothered to reveal myself to the world before, I forgot all mortals were as annoying as you are... The god
replied angrily Now here's how it is, I am going to save your life, and your are going to serve me for life by ridding of the evil that is most present in the world, I really dislike evil come to think of it

"Wait a minute I never agreed to this"

Well its not as if you have choice now is it!?

"Well, what sort of evil?"

Oh bloody hell I don't know! Start with killing witches or something then move on up to bigger things. See how that works out.

"Well... Fredrich Began, What if I, what if I don't want to. Want if I want to die, drowned at sea, lost in the blackness of the waters for ever?"

Tough shit The god finished.

Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore Awoke startled, gasping for precious night air and coughing up water upon the dirty sands and the remains of his makeshift life raft, standing, clutching his big, soggy stick close to his chest, wearing and having nothing in the world but the ripped, ruined and stained slashed tunic, his tattered black cape, his equally stained light blue breeches, albeit with other liquids then sea water, and missing leather boot, claimed by the sea along with his stylish fedora as toll for letting him live. So there he stood, soaked, and worse then naked and unarmed upon the shore.

[Black Cat]

With just a deep breath and a moments rest, the priest was finally able to lift himself up from his bed of grass and dirt in order to scan the horizon. Squinting his eyes to see farther into the distance, the somber darkness allowed him to identify only the largest of figures under the moonlight.

Traveling for such great lengths of time, though something he had become accustomed to, was still able to take its toll. Unfortunate as he felt this was, Magnus understood the limits of his body, and feared to press it beyond what it should naturally go.

In an effort to avoid such dangerous exertion, he unfastened the golden sash which bound his robes and held it up to the moon's reflection.

It shone as if one of the stars, miraculously left unstained by the years of travel and conflict he'd been witness to in his lifetime. The light allowed his vision to grasp the nearer of sights, at least, and the shoreline became clearer to his eyes. It was only through a great deal of luck that the dewy hill he'd found to rest upon would provide such an excellent vantage point, and seeing the benefits of this location, he decided to take advantage of such luck for as long as he could. He adjusted and tuned his hands, still clasping the sash, and directed the reflection in every conceivable direction, until his line of sight was to finally catch hold of something.

The beam of moonlight, turned slightly golden by the color of his cloth, caught the shadow of a man upon the shore. Having not witnessed a separate soul for days, the priest was eager to see another being stranded in this peaceful no man's land.

Wrapping the golden cloth around his waist once more, he summoned the last of his strength to descend from the hill and creep onto the shore. If he were blessed tonight, his white robes, which fluttered loosely in the breeze, would not catch the attention of the stranger before he'd be given the chance to identify him. It was many silent paces, due to his cautious nature, before Magnus came within observation distance of his new found companion in the shadowed wilderness.

The stranger stood, from what the priest could gather, nearly as tall as himself, and looked but a few years younger. Unlike Magnus however, he appeared to have suffered a much more exhausting bout in the wilds and along with his torn clothing and bruised body, was clutching what could only be described as a crude weapon. The war priest was relieved though, that unless this man had been suffering from an acute madness, he was certainly no danger to approach.

Stepping into one of the few and precious moonlit areas, Magnus emerged from the shadows. Keeping his dagger hidden up his sleeve as a lethal precaution, he made his way towards the direct vision of the bloodied man, standing of course a few yards away.

Then, drawing a deep breath, he uttered the first syllables he'd spoken aloud in days...

"Well, I'm not alone anymore, it would seem. Welcome to nowhere, stranger! I'm your local madman, Magnus..." These words he prayed would intimidate the man, at least enough to ward off any chance of violence. Putting one hand around his waist, he took a cheerful bow in the stranger's direction, curious to see if his fellow wanderer might return the favor.

[Galloglasses]

Fredrich was startled at the sudden appearance of the robed man, so much so he tripped over himself backing away, his legs still numb from the cold of the water. He scrambled back to his feet and raised his wooden stick, warding off this self acclaimed 'madman' in case he was being serious.

''M-Magnus, you say?'' Fredrich muttered, barely audible, taking another step back to the ocean. 'At least he has manners enough to tell me his name' Fredrich thought to himself, remarking on the slight bow Magnus had given him.

He stood there for another ten minutes before finally deciding that the man in front of him truly meant him no harm, otherwise in his disorientated state, the man could've easily bested him in a fight, and more then likely had something more dangerous then the soggy piece of wood Fredrich now carried. Relenting, he withdrew his stick from a defensive position and bowed, awkwardly, in return.

"Fredrich..." He began as he righted himself, "My name, its Fredrich Wilhem De Grimmalditore... And I am rather lost." He admitted, allowing himself to breath heavily, but never relaxing. Not here, on this alien beach, beneath stars he did not recognise, and gods only know how far he was from his home. Or if he had a home at all.

[Black Cat]

"Oh, so Fredrich is your name? Nice stick, Fredrich." Magnus slightly chuckled to himself, unbelieving of the fact he had just been threatened by a log wielding refugee. "I am however glad to see you possess some quaint manners, though, as I don't think sticks make for good diplomacy in our 'modern' age." He continued pleasantly, attempting to mask his own exhaustion.

"So, just how lost are you, friend? I'm hoping that those waters didn't carry you too far." Magnus thought, that with any luck, this man would know a way back to civilization that Magnus had as of yet been unable to discover.

In his wait for a reply, Magnus took a few steps forward, dagger still up his sleeve, and attempted to greet Fredrich more appropriately. Recalling something he had learned in Underwood's Tavern, he stretched his free hand out in friendship. Uncertain of the next step, he could only assume he must wait for his new companion to react, lest he look more confused than 'mad'.