A Fae, A Faun and a Human

[Storm Veritas]

Ugh, this boat is pretty small. Small boats and big horses are never a good time.

Attila stood firm on the thick, sturdy oak of the dock, locking his huge legs at the bulbous knees that were not to be trifled with. This horse was not much for negotiation, and in spite of the charms the wizard had over the great beast, he knew better than to force the hand. Hopping off, Storm athletically popped up to the front of the steed, gently rubbing the massive face by the nostrils to the crown, rubbing the incredible muscled mandible as well.

“Easy big fella. Little boat, short trip. I’m coming with you, and bringing plenty of sugar. LOTS of them.” A gentle smile, he opened his palm, a half dozen sugar cubes greedily devoured by the huge horse. Bobbing his head, Attila marched forward, grudgingly acquiescing to board.

Storm walked Attila under the covered deck of the boat to the bowels of the ship, which smelled an odd blend of ginger, cinnamon, and urine. It was quite clean here, however the sins of the past aboard the ship lingered long after they had been mopped with seawater and vinegar.

“Over here, big fella. Two days, max, and you get four days of lettuce, carrots, and sugar for your troubles. I’ll walk your fat ass back into shape when we hit land, I promise.” Gesturing to a cordoned stable filled with fresh hay and lots of food, Storm noticed a small “reserved” tag hung off the front door of the fencing. As Attila chuffed himself comfortable, spraying a bit of pee to mark his new quarters, Veritas took it upon himself to mark off this particular docking for his mount. Extending his finger, a small blue flame flickered to life, striking out the label on the aforementioned “reserved” tag. The name that once read “Her Majesty’s Pride” was incinerated; beneath it, a new and simple title:

ATTILA

I doubt we’ll get any complaints a few crowns can’t fix.

A minute or two later, the wizard was back up to the top deck, assured his horse was quartered fairly and seeing none in the area to question him. His eyes found a few errant shiphands; beautiful women that averted their gaze immediately as the terrible magician surveyed the ship. It didn’t take long to find a small crowd, with the little Fenn-fellow chattering up towards the staggeringly pillow-titted Philomel and all her glory.

Jackpot, we’re golden.

Before moving over, Storm approached one shiphand, a slightly haggard, waifish blond of forty or so that clearly longed to not be involved. Unfazed, Storm was the diplomat; his toothy smile and open, empty hands appearing as nonthreatening as imaginable.

“Lucky day for you, my friend! Fifty crowns bonus to keep my big fella down there happy. His name is Attila, and I recognize he’s a bit of a pain in the ass.”

As though from thin air, a handful of shining golden coins emerged in the wizards hand, widening the eyes of the sailor immediately. Without hesitation, Storm pressed all of them into the palm of the over-tanned, confused woman. They shared smiles as the wizard leaned in to speak more clearly.

”Fifty more when we land; one hundred if he’s still in good spirits. If you see someone screwing with him, stop them immediately and come to me. I can handle any hard-asses that may get upset that he’s loud on choppy water or takes a runny dump.

“If anything bad happens to him… well, shit…”

Turning his head across the boat, Storm focused on two rivets holding a dock handle to the wood. Nearby, a fishing gaffe rested against the deck, the metal handle of which caught the wizard’s attention. Storm raised a hand, twisting his fingers to manipulate the steel from thirty feet away. The handle snapped off effortlessly, the two-foot segment twisting in the air into a hemisphere. The arc was then spun forcefully into the wood beneath the rivets, forming a bizarre image of a frowning face about the wood.

”Nothing bad is going to happen…”

Standing, Storm smiled again, his sinister tone leaving altogether as he clapped the back of the ship-hand as though greeting an old friend. He left to join his friends, certain now that his steed was to be well-cared for.