Chapter 3 - Abelard Pre-Story 3

Fjordheim – 2 Years. Feeling as if the hunting presence was closing in once again, and having nowhere left in Fjordheim he felt safe hiding, Abelard fled to the docks and tried to bluff his way onto a departing Shroudship’s crew.

Unfortunately, as Abelard quickly learned, actual knowledge of how a ship operates was necessary to talk your way onto a crew, not just a glib tongue and the right outfit. The young Half Elf's first attempts to talk himself aboard a ship were laughed down as he could not name more than one or two knots, and hardly new the difference between a belaying pin and a rolling pin!

So Abelard, beginning to feel a bit panicked and cornered, found the cheapest cost for berth on any ship leaving that day, not caring where it was going next or when it would get there. (A lapse in judgement he would come to regret later, as he was pushed off the craft in the lovely, desolate, frozen rock of Skai.)

The young runaway then began his short, furious, run as a thief and con artist to gather the coinage necessary, taking full advantage of his ability to look like just about anyone roughly his own size, and his newfound ability to create sound or visual distractions to aid his cause.

Abelard would choose a shop selling food or produce, and watch for buyers. After the purchase was complete and the customer had left, Abelard would change himself to look like the buyer and return, demanding his money back for what was 'Obviously' rotten produce or a horrible meal. "How DARE you sell this... this… Offal to me and expect me to stomach it. I demand you give me my money back this Instant, or I shall be forced to call the authorities! What? Return the produce? Why, I tossed it in the gutter where it belongs! I've half a mind to..."

More often than not, to Abelard’s surprise, and dismay, the ploy would work. And the louder and more demanding he sounded, the better the odds the vendor would pay him off to go away quickly. Abelard was certain there was a moral lesson there he should be learning, but counting coin was more important that dusting off high road morals, and so he continued about town, collecting moneys when it worked, and running and changing disguises when it did not.

And so, mere hours later, and a pocket filled would low coinage heavier, Abelard purchased a shared berth aboard the ‘Last Round’ under the command of Human Captain Tuvil Dagon, and said farewell to anything and everything he had ever known.

The travel between Fjordheim and Skai was brisk, a mere few weeks, but filled with new information as Abelard, determined to learn enough to talk himself aboard the next crew successfully, began an incessant stream of questions about ship life and sailor skills to any who came within hearing, dawn to dusk. (This may, or may not, have had anything to do with the crew’s quickness to ‘assist’ Abelard in departing the ship the very moment they docked at Skai.)

But, short though the trip was, and annoying as he may or may not have been, it did provide Abelard with a foundation of terms and knowledge that would come in handy during the later legs of his circle of the Great Whorl. He could now both look AND sound the part of a low wage sailor of no particular skill, even if he was hardly as handy as a crew might hope once hired on.

His nights were spent coming to the realization that the whispers from the shadows WAS in fact a voice trying to reach him. Trying from a great distance, but getting stronger with every shared story of emotion. So Abelard took to his new amateur profession… Therapist. Sailor by Sailor, Abelard began dining with the crew, and persuading them to share their stories of love and loss with him. Deep into the nights he would gather stories, yet he often woke feeling more refreshed after a long night of stories than he did a full night of sleep. Almost as if the stories of loss themselves sustained him in part!

And so, bag over his shoulder, a heart full of new stories, a few coins in his pocket, and a new penchant for Dice discovered, Abelard found himself in seemingly the only place on the Whorl less hospitable than the steppes of Fjordheim in Winter….. the Frozen ‘Cold Bank’ of Skai!

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Skai – 2 Months … What can one say about the Cold Bank of Skai? For a City-state famed for its precious metals and wealth, nearly every traveler to speak of their time in Skai would use one of two words… Dirty, and/or Cold. A world of rock and ice, and people determined to dig through every square inch of it to find what they wanted.

Abelard would never say he enjoyed his short time in Skai, but, as one might expect of a hostile border climate mining town, stories of loss abounded. So Abelard bid his time in town, dicing for coin, listening to stories, and learning more about this strange entity and it’s connection to him.

He tried his hand at mining as well. Who wouldn’t with tale after tale of a man starting the day poor and ending it richer than any had a right to be. But mining was hard, cruel work. And Abelard ended his first, and only, day as a miner no richer than he started, other than a deep abiding wish to never try that again and two hands full of new blisters!

Two months of collecting heart wrenchingly tragic stories of lost love later, the feeling of that hunting presence looming close grew too strong, and the young Warlock gathered his things and, without saying any goodbyes, headed back to the dock to check his escape options.

Assuming an image of a slightly older and more ‘seasoned’ image of himself, and availing himself of his silver tongue and newfound basic sailing knowledge, Abelard talked himself into a free berth aboard a cargo Shroudship bound for Ak’Atu in exchange for some deck labor. And, within the hour, they are away onboard the Cargo ship ‘Sailing a Weigh’ captained by its Dwarven Captain, Balgon Stonekeeper.

Cargo Holds full, and not a craft built for speed, the journey to Ak’Atu was a full month of travel before the High Desert slopes of Ak’Atu Province came into sight. It was a month of sad stories and tall tales. Trying to keep sailors of a larger crew ship to truthful stories proved more challenging than one might think, as where one sailor might tell a story, but two or more sailors together inevitably will attempt to outdo each other with tall tales.

Yet stories were told, and with each tale of love lost, Abelard feels the connection deepen with his unknown Patron. Eventually, he even begins to have short single sentence conversations. But each such attempt to learn and understand more simply left young Abelard with more questions than when he had begun. But he did learn a few things about the mysterious voice of shadow. She is a She. She could only reach him within the deepest shadows, but the connection was growing stronger with time. The stories sustained her. They strengthened her. They kept her sane. And she was true. She would never, ever, lie to him!

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Ak’Atu – 3 Months. Beautiful, pastoral Ak’Atu. A land of Peace. A land of healing and harmony. A land disavowed of violence…

Abelard Hated it! How could they not fight back? How could a people simply accept such loss as a part of life? (Much of Abelard's tendencies to try to tackle things head on stem as much from his time here in Ak’Atu as they do his childhood loss.)

But, oh, what loss. Everywhere was loss. Passive people, with so much loss! When attacked, they would turn and hide, leaving possessions, and anyone too slow, behind to die. Abelard might not have enjoyed his time in Ak’Atu, but his Patron basked in it.

Months passed, peacefully and oh so boringly, in Ak’Atu. But after a season of listening to stories and arguing, fruitlessly, that standing and fighting was superior to running and hiding, (And fully unaware of the irony of being the one making this argument), the hunting presence reared it’s head again and, ignoring his own vehement arguments to the contrary, he gathered his things and ran away.

At the docks, it took Abelard a few tries to talk himself onto a new ship, the ‘Balefyre’, and Blustering Half Orc Captain Tuus, headed for Estandia.

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Estandia – 3 Months Ah, Estandia. Abelard’s time in Estandia was fascinating. Ruins, Undercity, Libraries… Abelard spent time in them all trying, and for the most part failing, to learn what he could about Giants, and their counterparts, the Dragons.

Barren Ruins, empty Undercity, more dead ends than he could count. (And he had a horrible attempt at a hand drawn map to prove it!), the time searching Estandia was not entirely for naught. For it was here in Estandia that Abelard’s remembering of the fated night, the harsh emotions now dulled, allowing him to focus on the details with more acumen, that Abelard begins to realize that the gravelly voice from the raid, was that of a Giant. It was to a Giant that Abelard owed vengeance.

Estandia, and it’s people, was…. Soothing. Almost Relaxing. For the first time since leaving Fjordheim, Abelard was actually upset at the prospect of leaving when the feeling of being pursued resumed. But, Flight bested Fight once again, and Abelard again found himself dockbound, eyes over his shoulder swearing he should be able to See what he could Feel watching, and looking for passage.

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