The Prophet of Zane
01-21-07, 11:44 PM
<closed to Dirge>
"Mommy, is that man a skellington?" a child asked in an elfin voice behind Zane. Even though her mother hushed her quickly as the man peered over his shoulder at them, he saw knowledge in the girl's eyes. He supposed that he did look grotesque. His face was sunken, his body down to the bare bones and sinew. Dark brown hair had taken to falling out, and he'd began to keep it short to prevent it all from blowing away with every gust and breeze that touched it. When the mother and child walked away, Zane turned once again to the sea before him. Strange large fish jumped and squealed near to the boat as he stared, enthralled.
"Dolphins," a voice said next to his ear, making him jump. "They bring good luck, doncha know?" The voice belonged to an older man in sailor's wear who sat down on the deck beside the amnesiac. He held out a small wooden cup, filled with water. A slice of lemon floated on the top of it. "Let the fruit juice soak in first," the sailor advised. "It keeps ya from gettin' sick out here."
With a nod, Zane thanked him and began to sip the water, noting how the lemon changed the taste away from the mineral tange he'd grown used to in Corone to something far more exotic. As the ship moved on, the dolphins soon dissappeared beneath the waves, and the old man let out a small sigh.
"Don't take care of yerself much, do ya?" the man asked Zane. "Not that it be any of mah business, I know that, but you make the women worry. You, eh, cursed or anything?"
"Been like this as long as I can remember," Zane said with a small shrug, lifting the cup up to his dry lips again for a moment. He let the water lap at them, the small sting as the lemon juice settled into the chapped wounds, and then set it down again. The man at his side was nodding, and clapped a hand gently on his back.
"Well, while you be with us, you'll be cared fer. S'all I can promise right now, anyway. You sure you wanna head down to Istraloth?" There was a tinge of worry that touched the sailor's face, but Zane discarded it.
"The answers are there," he merely said, handing back the half empty cup to the man. He felt sick at having drunk so much at once, but he knew that as long as he didn't move, he'd be fine. The man frowned into the cup, but said nothing about how much water was still left in there.
"Well, if ye be seeking answers, ye'll wanna keep an eye out for an amber amulet. Thar's this group that's beena looking fer it for a while. Say it brings knowledge. They sent out these copies of some funny writin, and some papers that they say are what the writin means. Now, I don't meant to be dismissin' any of it as horseshit just yet, cuz the papers this group sent say that they don't know where in the world it could be. But you know, we're a merchant barge. We trade between Corone and Istraloth alot. One day, them sailin' folk saw the picture and they got real excited, chattering away and pointin. I think they know what it is, and I think they know where it is." He finally stood, spitting over the side of the ship and turning to take the cup and precious lemon slice back to the kitchens. "They might tell you where it is," he added. "Out o' pity fer ya."
Alone with his thoughts, Zane sat back and watched the clouds drift over the sea towards the shore. An amulet that brought great knowledge might just tell him what he needed to know. Everything, really. Where he'd come from, who he was. He knew his own name, yes, but did he really know himself? His deeds so far had been less than honorable, he thought with a wince as he remembered the freshly dug grave next to the small Coronian cottage. Somehow thinking he might have once been a good man was a relief to him. As he lay on the deck, his eyes closed against the sun that peeked through the clouds, one thing was certain.
He'd kill for that amulet, good man or not.
"Mommy, is that man a skellington?" a child asked in an elfin voice behind Zane. Even though her mother hushed her quickly as the man peered over his shoulder at them, he saw knowledge in the girl's eyes. He supposed that he did look grotesque. His face was sunken, his body down to the bare bones and sinew. Dark brown hair had taken to falling out, and he'd began to keep it short to prevent it all from blowing away with every gust and breeze that touched it. When the mother and child walked away, Zane turned once again to the sea before him. Strange large fish jumped and squealed near to the boat as he stared, enthralled.
"Dolphins," a voice said next to his ear, making him jump. "They bring good luck, doncha know?" The voice belonged to an older man in sailor's wear who sat down on the deck beside the amnesiac. He held out a small wooden cup, filled with water. A slice of lemon floated on the top of it. "Let the fruit juice soak in first," the sailor advised. "It keeps ya from gettin' sick out here."
With a nod, Zane thanked him and began to sip the water, noting how the lemon changed the taste away from the mineral tange he'd grown used to in Corone to something far more exotic. As the ship moved on, the dolphins soon dissappeared beneath the waves, and the old man let out a small sigh.
"Don't take care of yerself much, do ya?" the man asked Zane. "Not that it be any of mah business, I know that, but you make the women worry. You, eh, cursed or anything?"
"Been like this as long as I can remember," Zane said with a small shrug, lifting the cup up to his dry lips again for a moment. He let the water lap at them, the small sting as the lemon juice settled into the chapped wounds, and then set it down again. The man at his side was nodding, and clapped a hand gently on his back.
"Well, while you be with us, you'll be cared fer. S'all I can promise right now, anyway. You sure you wanna head down to Istraloth?" There was a tinge of worry that touched the sailor's face, but Zane discarded it.
"The answers are there," he merely said, handing back the half empty cup to the man. He felt sick at having drunk so much at once, but he knew that as long as he didn't move, he'd be fine. The man frowned into the cup, but said nothing about how much water was still left in there.
"Well, if ye be seeking answers, ye'll wanna keep an eye out for an amber amulet. Thar's this group that's beena looking fer it for a while. Say it brings knowledge. They sent out these copies of some funny writin, and some papers that they say are what the writin means. Now, I don't meant to be dismissin' any of it as horseshit just yet, cuz the papers this group sent say that they don't know where in the world it could be. But you know, we're a merchant barge. We trade between Corone and Istraloth alot. One day, them sailin' folk saw the picture and they got real excited, chattering away and pointin. I think they know what it is, and I think they know where it is." He finally stood, spitting over the side of the ship and turning to take the cup and precious lemon slice back to the kitchens. "They might tell you where it is," he added. "Out o' pity fer ya."
Alone with his thoughts, Zane sat back and watched the clouds drift over the sea towards the shore. An amulet that brought great knowledge might just tell him what he needed to know. Everything, really. Where he'd come from, who he was. He knew his own name, yes, but did he really know himself? His deeds so far had been less than honorable, he thought with a wince as he remembered the freshly dug grave next to the small Coronian cottage. Somehow thinking he might have once been a good man was a relief to him. As he lay on the deck, his eyes closed against the sun that peeked through the clouds, one thing was certain.
He'd kill for that amulet, good man or not.