Topic: The Adventures Of Anson Oldfur

Anson Oldfur · Date: 2008-12-23 10:37 EST

The night was cloudless and the stars twinkled merrily against their blackly painted background like a reckless scattering of tiny diamonds on dark, jeweler's velvet. Without the cloud on a winter day, it was cold enough, but on a night like that was bitter with its touch.

Teeth clicked quietly against the stem of the simply carved pipe. Smoke lazily drifted up from its small, wooden bowl where tobacco seemed to be the only warmth for miles. The one who held it had a hand to match that pipe. His stature to look on him in all the bundling and layers of cloth, wool and leather made him seem like a child in clothes that that were a size too big of sturdy material but nothing he'd be too worried about getting a hole or stain to. Undershirt, tunic, and cloak layered the upper part of him while trousers and wool-wraps for his legs and feet. Beneath his coat, a striped sash belted his waist. He had a sheathed knife stuck into it with animals tooled into the leather of it. Beside it dangled a few pouches with various things in them, including more tobacco. Blond hair shifted with the movement of the wind.

Behind where he stood on the bow of the ship he could hear footsteps on the deck. Everyone else had abandoned any notion of being out there at that hour and the cold. The seas had been calm and bite of the wind too fierce when there was rum and lamp oil burning below.

"Dangerous to be out here, Anson." The voice that spoke it make it sound as if each of the words had been dragged over breakstone.

Anson knew the man's meaning and tapped one of his wool-bound feet against the wood of the deck of The Sea Sword; barely making a sound. "I'm used to it, Captain."

"Well, let me at least make a try at talking you into going below for a meal. Hot stew, sugarbread, and ale..." The red bearded man grinned and waited for Anson to answer.

Anson Oldfur was, at the least, two heads shorter in height than the captain of The Sea Sword so he had to tip his head back a bit when he looked up at the man. An eye squinted at him through the sweet pipe smoke. "I believe you've talked me into it, Captain." Anson eyed the older, Human male a full minute longer then turned with a hope down from the wooden built-in at the bow. "Was just starting to get hungry again, too!" Chuckling, he patted a hand against his non-existent belly as if he had bit of weight to him, though it wasn't there.

Anson Oldfur · Date: 2008-12-23 11:40 EST

When the galley was reached, the air thrummed with conversation. Some of the crew were making plans of what they would do and where they would go when they reached RhyDin's docks.

Anson chuckled to hear them talk of foods, ales, beds in the same breath and salivating way that they spoke of hoping the bar wenches were aplenty.

He had stopped off at his quarters that he shared with some of the crew to pick up the long, stick-like item wrapped in cloth. Anson scooted and turned and did so again until he made it through the crowd of men to get himself something to eat. When he had a bowl, plate, and a mug in his hands and the item pinned between his elbow and his side, he trundled off to find a place to sit. In the back, he perched himself up onto a ledge of a sturdy, inset shelf and left his half covered feet dangling.

While he listened to the men talk of a colorful array of women that had had in their lives — some more memorable than others — the laughing turned raucus after a while. Anson shook his head slowing and chuckled at them.

"Oldfur!"

Anson's had been eating and stopped midchew and brought his head up. A look about, he smiled about a bite of bread. "Hmm?"

The one that had spoken was a man twice Anson's height and build with a bald head covered with a leather and cloth hat. Thick arms were dropped against the table as Orik leaned forward to get a good look at the Halfling. "Is that your flute" Play for us! We're all in the mood for a good tune. We make port tomorrow!"

At that, the men cheered to think of all that they would be doing with the coming of the morning light.

Anson put his bread and bowl aside and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and answered Orik brightly. "That's why I brought it!" The long, silver flute was a beautiful instrument that he brought with him on his travels. It looked like a branch of a tree had been dipped into silver and then hollowed out at the ends and holes put along its length on one side.

The cloth he'd had it wrapped in was folded up quickly and tucked aside on the shelve nook where he had perched himself to sit. Then he tried out a couple of notes. "What will be tonight, m'friends?"

"Chiark Du'lan!" Came one shout, for a song the crewman was known to like about Fighting Fae.

"Laird Tirok!" Came another with as much pushy zeal as the first of the song of the drunken Lord of Tirok.

"What' Nae! O'Pembroke Dames!"

When O'Pembroke Dames was shouted out, the voices echoed it after that as the best of the ideas and clunked their mugs against the long, wooden table they were all seated about.

Anson grinned. He knew the melody well. Of three women that were not only the most beautiful in all of O'Pembroke, but they had been women of that crown, and each had had their own striking attribute: Phaett for her dancing that made all the men dream of silk and wine. Aelirahn for her intelligence that war tactitians sought with envy and respect. And Balmistra for her rutheless, cunning, and strong ways of 'manning' the seas and her ship upon it. Anson suspected it was Balmistra that they really wanted to listen to the melody for.

"And who will sing it!" Anson called it out and leaned forward with a twitch of his half-bare feet.

"Captain!" They all shouted at once with a roar of encouragement.