Post by Owl on May 30, 2016 13:25:57 GMT -5
"Weather's rotten." Rodney grumbled to no one. "Just like yesterday. Just like always."
Rodney Ericcson cast a glance at the horizon as he wound the mooring line around his arm. He could always feel when the weather was going to take a turn. Although, how could one tell? It was always rotten. The clouds on the edge of sight hung in the air like grapefruit that had gone south of yellow on an even more sick tree. Thunder rolled in the distance. It reminded him of the wheat mill back over the glades, its slow churning never ceasing just as the wind that kept the old thing rolling.
Spire's Town was not a big city. Well, it was the biggest city Rodney had ever known. However, one could loose an arrow on one side and hit an apple cart on the other on a good day. Which today, was decidedly not. Rodney's family lived here, as had the family that came before him. His father, before he left him, had gifted his home and all his possessions to Rodney, just as he would his own son, David. David was a bright lad. Too bright. Destined for greater things than following in Rodney's wake of fisherman. As long as he didn't become a damned adventurer.
Rodney clasped his hands behind his back and attempted to straighten to his full height. Decades of bending had put him in a permanent stoop and several audible cracks gave way like a round of applause. Hell, standing upright was worthy of praise at his age. Finding more than ten hairs on his head in the morning was worth it's weight in gold!
Bellamina always loved that joke. He missed her. He had proposed to her on this very ship. He remembered the waves almost carried the both of them overboard before she could say yes. She promised that being soaked by sea spray and fish oils did not lessen the romantic memory. The weather was rotten that day. Just like today. As always.
Another slow, rolling gait of thunder crawled across the sky. Rodney decided he had better get out before the weather decided for him. This was his job, after all. Dozens of mouths to feed in every shape and size. I'm sure the King would open his table to Rodney had he known the daily risk he made to put fish into the belly of his subjects.
Oh, sure, mused Rodney. The Stone-One. The Mountain King. The Unmoving. Rodney was sure that old dwarf would shed many a tear should he and his little fishing boat have a chance meeting on the shallows. He had never actually spoken to his lord. He actually didn't know anyone who had spoken to him, now that he thought of it. His surly and every vigilant Kingsguard were a presence within the town, and his laws were just and fair. But a man who stays locked inside his keep day in and day out without a speck of sunlight to his name? Maybe he just has a rotten mood. Like the weather.
Rodney felt heat on his face and had to blink away a sting in his eyes. As he looked about, he saw that the storm clouds had vanished. He was greeted by the bright blue of great expanse with little sweet wisps of white markings. The temperature was rising, and Rodney could feel the humidity fill the air and blanket his skin. The sea birds were crying out their calls and the tide began kicking up the shoreline with its constant battering.
He tossed the mooring line aboard and heaved himself up onto the deck.
"Just my luck", Rodney grumbled to no one. "Rotten weather again."
Rodney Ericcson cast a glance at the horizon as he wound the mooring line around his arm. He could always feel when the weather was going to take a turn. Although, how could one tell? It was always rotten. The clouds on the edge of sight hung in the air like grapefruit that had gone south of yellow on an even more sick tree. Thunder rolled in the distance. It reminded him of the wheat mill back over the glades, its slow churning never ceasing just as the wind that kept the old thing rolling.
Spire's Town was not a big city. Well, it was the biggest city Rodney had ever known. However, one could loose an arrow on one side and hit an apple cart on the other on a good day. Which today, was decidedly not. Rodney's family lived here, as had the family that came before him. His father, before he left him, had gifted his home and all his possessions to Rodney, just as he would his own son, David. David was a bright lad. Too bright. Destined for greater things than following in Rodney's wake of fisherman. As long as he didn't become a damned adventurer.
Rodney clasped his hands behind his back and attempted to straighten to his full height. Decades of bending had put him in a permanent stoop and several audible cracks gave way like a round of applause. Hell, standing upright was worthy of praise at his age. Finding more than ten hairs on his head in the morning was worth it's weight in gold!
Bellamina always loved that joke. He missed her. He had proposed to her on this very ship. He remembered the waves almost carried the both of them overboard before she could say yes. She promised that being soaked by sea spray and fish oils did not lessen the romantic memory. The weather was rotten that day. Just like today. As always.
Another slow, rolling gait of thunder crawled across the sky. Rodney decided he had better get out before the weather decided for him. This was his job, after all. Dozens of mouths to feed in every shape and size. I'm sure the King would open his table to Rodney had he known the daily risk he made to put fish into the belly of his subjects.
Oh, sure, mused Rodney. The Stone-One. The Mountain King. The Unmoving. Rodney was sure that old dwarf would shed many a tear should he and his little fishing boat have a chance meeting on the shallows. He had never actually spoken to his lord. He actually didn't know anyone who had spoken to him, now that he thought of it. His surly and every vigilant Kingsguard were a presence within the town, and his laws were just and fair. But a man who stays locked inside his keep day in and day out without a speck of sunlight to his name? Maybe he just has a rotten mood. Like the weather.
Rodney felt heat on his face and had to blink away a sting in his eyes. As he looked about, he saw that the storm clouds had vanished. He was greeted by the bright blue of great expanse with little sweet wisps of white markings. The temperature was rising, and Rodney could feel the humidity fill the air and blanket his skin. The sea birds were crying out their calls and the tide began kicking up the shoreline with its constant battering.
He tossed the mooring line aboard and heaved himself up onto the deck.
"Just my luck", Rodney grumbled to no one. "Rotten weather again."