Adventures of Malric 04

03/25/872 - 04/01/872

Return to the Sundancer

As the sun crested the mist-cloaked Umbra Quay, Malric returned to the Sundancer; his footing uncertain, both from the mead still humming through his blood and the weight of recent events under the Echo Tree at the Lowweb Market of Port Arlith. At his side strode Naelira Tyne, half-elf ranger with dust on her armor and secrets in her smile. She bore the scars of the ambush in the Lowweb as if they were medals, her sly confidence barely masking the fatigue and buzz of mead muddling her head. Ahead marched Dazhra, the stalwart half-orc whose silence spoke more than most men's oaths. The ship was alive with motion: sailors shouting in various tongues, ropes groaning against sail and timber. Upon the deck, Tharivol Dalanthanis, the second mate, a rakish elf with a silver eye and a sharper wit, awaited their return, teasing with the ease of a man who’d faced death and debt alike. Though wary of Naelira’s sudden presence, he relented with theatrical grace, welcoming her aboard with laughter, challenge, and the unspoken trust earned only by those who’ve fought and bled together.

The Sundancer cast off its final moorings to the laughter of her crew and the chant of her charismatic captain, Solaris, whose voice carried like a ritual, binding the ship and her people to a new journey. As arcane wind filled her sails, the galleon surged forward into the silver dawn, her enchanted timbers humming with energy. Behind her, Arlith’s Crown faded into mist and memory, the looming city swallowed by horizon. For Malric, the deck beneath his boots was familiar, but the company around him had shifted. There was camaraderie now; cautious, budding, but real. Dazhra’s quiet wisdom, Naelira’s sarcasm and fire hiding long buried grief, Tharivol’s insufferable charm - all began to shape the tide of this voyage, pulling Malric deeper into currents of fate he had not foreseen.

Two nights later, Captain Solaris called Malric to his quarters. The sea stretched endlessly ahead, and the wind whispered secrets through the rigging. Solaris, a man carved from sea salt and old scars, spoke plainly - he knew the ambush in Port Arlith was no mere coincidence. He'd smelled danger clinging to Malric like smoke in a storm. Yet, rather than accuse, the captain offered a pact: trust for trust. Malric, Grevin Thalorindel's ward and no ordinary passenger, gave his word - Whatever hunted him would not endanger the Sundancer or her crew. Solaris nodded solemnly, revealing their next port: Vuudrav's Landing, jewel of the Whitedawn Lagoon. A place of strange elegance and harder edges, where draconblood, ravenites, and merchants brushed shoulders, and where fortunes could be made - or lost - in the blink of an eye.

The voyage passed in sun-drenched labor and growing kinship. Malric, Dazhra, Tharivol, and Naelira found rhythm in the sea’s song, working and resting in unison. By night, dice rolled in the mess hall and tales were spun. One night, Malric joined Naelira in a game of “Whispers and Wagers,” a drunken dance of chance and confessions. Each roll peeled back layers - grief over loss, guarded truths behind crooked smiles. And yet, even as they drank deeper, some truths Naelira kept buried. Her burden was heavier than words, her laughter a mask more practiced than most. The trust between them deepened not through the things said - but in the silences that followed. However Malric could not shake the feeling that there is more to Naelira than meets the eye, and it may not be all good.

Arrival in Vuudrav's Landing

On the seventh day, as the Sundancer cut through mist and salt, Vuudrav’s Landing rose before them. A city of contrasts - Ravenite towers hewn from volcanic stone beside Clovis Concord opulence. Magic gondolas drifted like fireflies between levels, and arcane defenses shimmered at the harbor’s edge. As with any port, the harbor buzzed with ritual and regulation. Dazhra, ever wary, noted the overabundance of guards at the dock. Hooked spears glinted beneath the morning sun, and the crocodilian forms of Vuudrav’s Ravenite soldiers watched the ship’s arrival with reptilian stillness. Even amid the beauty of the city, danger lingered in the corners. Solaris gave strict orders: shore leave was earned, time limited. Tharivol was first off the ship, coins jangling at his side, dreams of dice and drink already on his breath, followed by Randy, the goblin cook.

But soon came the blow. Just as their shift ended, and Malric, Naelira, and Dazhra left the ship, Randy the goblin cook came tearing through the crowds, panic in every frantic step. Tharivol had been arrested. Dragged in chains from the gambling den called The Sultry Coin by guards under the command of Ulrath Draz'Valorr, a noble Dragonborn with the power to turn rumor into prison. The charge? Cheating at cards. But Randy swore that Tharivol was innocent. Naelira’s blood was already up, her short swords nearly dancing at her sides. “We need to tell the captain,” Dazhra growled, ever the voice of caution. But Naelira’s answer cut through: “What we need to do is break that silver-eyed fool out.”

The wooden planks of Vuudrav’s docks creaked beneath their boots as market cries and sea wind whipped around them. Above them, brumestone gondolas whispered across the sky. The day was no longer one of rest or exploration - it was one of rescue. Somewhere in the heart of this glittering city, Tharivol sat chained, a pawn in a noble’s game. And whether through gold, steel, or guile, Malric knew the Sundancer’s crew would not leave him behind.