A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

Mid Season Interlude - A Murky Past

Y'all voted, and we listened! The winner goes to... Maisie! We hope you enjoy her backstory as we prepare for Deadshore on Thursday, April 25th!

***

A cool breeze wafted across the ocean, swirling about the main deck of The Ardenian Queen. Fish swam in schools, leaping above the waves as birds dove for their prey. In the distance, a whale sprayed water into the air.

Spring had arrived with fair temperatures, though the mornings remained cold—fog covered the sea late in the evening, lasting until the sun chased it away.

On the top deck, Maisie clutched the rail and swayed with the gentle motions of the sturdy vessel.

She preferred to be above deck rather than below, often visiting to enjoy the fresh breezes and wide views of the open waves.

Their quarters were pleasant, but rather small and cramped. Ben seldom left his bunk, while Tallon seemed to have made it his mission to keep the lad distracted or entertained. This, more than the tonics, kept the threat of seasickness at bay. Ben smiled at the elf's antics, and even attempted more than plain broth.This was quite sweet of him, in Maisie's opinion, and endeared her even further to the noble, but it also meant there was little privacy to be had in their berth.

Maisie didn't mind, and once the crew grew accustomed to having a female passenger on deck, they left her alone and she stayed out of their way, though she liked to watch them work.

She imagined her father among them, not hauling the anchor or up in the rigging, but standing on the deck with a sword in his belt and his officer's pips on his sleeve.

When Maisie  was young, and he was home, Papa would play 'ship' with her. It was her favorite game, pretending the wooden fence surrounding her mother's herb garden was the rail of a great vessel, shouting orders, which her father repeated in his role as her first mate.

She recalled how the sound carried all the way across the little valley below their house and startled the sheep on the opposite slope.

Lost in these reminiscences, Maisie knit her brow as she gazed over the cresting waves. She wore a wide brimmed bonnet to protect her face from the sun, and kept her hair in a simple braid. This was as much to prevent the wind turning it into a wild nest as to keep it out of sight. One of the men had made a sign of protection when she came on board, and knowing sailors to be a superstitious lot, she imagined he thought red hair might bring bad luck. It was nonsense, of course, but better to keep a low profile. In the event some misfortune should befall them, it was best not to be singled out as the cause, nonsense or not.

Her father had been less superstitious than most men of the sea, but that didn't stop him from throwing salt or knocking wood, or from embarking on a fool's quest from which he had never returned.

Now that she was grown, Maisie saw things in a different light. She understood her father hadn't been the perfect man she'd imagined him to be, and that it was entirely possible he'd had no intention of returning, that last time he left. Still, she couldn't reconcile her memories of a loving, devoted father with the harsh reality experience had taught her to suspect.

Sighing, she leaned her folded arms on the rail. This was why she hated idleness: the moment she was still, her thoughts wandered to the past, and to very unpleasant destinations, sometimes. But with nothing else to do, and her father's memory all around her in the ship and its crew, she focused on the distant pleasant days of her childhood, and let her mind roam.

~ * ~

Far to the north, where the sea was the color of iron and the hills high and green, at the base of the Red Mountains and upon the doorstep of the Dwarves, lay the little town of Silverdale.