Tobias Stalt
06-05-15, 09:12 PM
Gilded sunlight painted the long sea that spanned between ship and shoreline. Indomitable Legacy glided across water like a serpent, slow and smooth; the massive galleon bore testament to the monetary might of the East. Intricately carved into the hull were images depicting the rise of navigation and the golden age of mercantilism, both of the triumphs of Keribas' Merchant Coast. Tobias sat lazily at the bow of the vessel, quietly watching the cityscape grow on the horizon.
Dehlos.
The city stood proud as the mightiest not in arms, but wealth. For a thousand years, the city of gold basked in an age of prosperity protected by bribes, trade agreements, tariffs that bled dry even the mightiest foes, and cutthroat politics. To those who sought to bring discomfort or despair to its denizens, Dehlos brought swift and stifling denial. Those who came seeking fortune or opportunity found it in abundance, however.
Beneath the sunset, Dehlos shined a brilliant gold that rivalled any majesty in Raiaera. Though not nearly as advanced, the palace of the caliphs easily cowed the tallest of Alerian spires, and even at this great distance, the mercenary smelled the overstock of spices from the bazaar. "Stalt," came a low growl from among the crew, "she's a beautiful city. Far less modest than folk like us are used to."
With a grunt, Tobias nodded. "Be easy," he reassured the collective of wide eyed tourists. "She's no different than Radasanth, once you're past the illustrious bullshit." He spun one of his long knives idly on his palm. "Trick is, don't piss no one off."
"Huh?" The sound of surprise trickled across the deck, and Tobias stood up. His fingers brushed across the rigging absently, recalling the coarseness of it. Memories of his time on the continent of Althanas played back in his mind like a lucid dream. "No disrespect, Cap," Dario, his trusted second sword, called, "but she don't seem so dangerous."
He spared a glance back over his shoulder and smiled as the salty wind blasted his face. Tobias let his amber gaze rest on Pietro, the youth transfixed on the magnificent palace ahead. "Serpents have pretty colors to hide a mouth full of fangs." Pietro snapped his eyes up from the monolithic structure and peered at Tobias.
"You ever seen something quite so grand, Mister Stalt?" the youth questioned in awe.
"Reckon so," Tobias muttered bitterly. "Hoped I'd never see it again, though." Several eyes darted to the captain as his dark musings hinged on revelation. "Ah," he added, "I was born here."
Dehlos.
The city stood proud as the mightiest not in arms, but wealth. For a thousand years, the city of gold basked in an age of prosperity protected by bribes, trade agreements, tariffs that bled dry even the mightiest foes, and cutthroat politics. To those who sought to bring discomfort or despair to its denizens, Dehlos brought swift and stifling denial. Those who came seeking fortune or opportunity found it in abundance, however.
Beneath the sunset, Dehlos shined a brilliant gold that rivalled any majesty in Raiaera. Though not nearly as advanced, the palace of the caliphs easily cowed the tallest of Alerian spires, and even at this great distance, the mercenary smelled the overstock of spices from the bazaar. "Stalt," came a low growl from among the crew, "she's a beautiful city. Far less modest than folk like us are used to."
With a grunt, Tobias nodded. "Be easy," he reassured the collective of wide eyed tourists. "She's no different than Radasanth, once you're past the illustrious bullshit." He spun one of his long knives idly on his palm. "Trick is, don't piss no one off."
"Huh?" The sound of surprise trickled across the deck, and Tobias stood up. His fingers brushed across the rigging absently, recalling the coarseness of it. Memories of his time on the continent of Althanas played back in his mind like a lucid dream. "No disrespect, Cap," Dario, his trusted second sword, called, "but she don't seem so dangerous."
He spared a glance back over his shoulder and smiled as the salty wind blasted his face. Tobias let his amber gaze rest on Pietro, the youth transfixed on the magnificent palace ahead. "Serpents have pretty colors to hide a mouth full of fangs." Pietro snapped his eyes up from the monolithic structure and peered at Tobias.
"You ever seen something quite so grand, Mister Stalt?" the youth questioned in awe.
"Reckon so," Tobias muttered bitterly. "Hoped I'd never see it again, though." Several eyes darted to the captain as his dark musings hinged on revelation. "Ah," he added, "I was born here."