Masters of the Inner Sea
It’s been a time since I have been able to put pen to paper. The turmoil from the past few weeks is still raw and fresh; from the death of my pa, to leaving my home in Hell Harbor, to being pressed into service aboard a filthy pirate ship. The Mistress’s will is fickle, but I shall follow the path she has set for me.
It seems odd that a few weeks ago I was sitting my in my parents little shack, helping with chores. Pa coming in with a fish or eel, his share of the days catch, for ma to cook up for the nights dinner. How quickly things can change. From all accounts it was murder, but its funny how that can be. Pa was bringing in his catch after a calm day at sea, bringing it over to Taver’s to be counted and weighed. Apparently, some rich lordling or other decided to stop by and started harassing ol’ Widow Tavers. Now, the widow is not one to trifle with and she’s got a tongue that could make even the Mother of Monsters wince, but pa came over to help. I never really thought of my pa being a brave man, but there he was. Got a dagger in the belly for his efforts though. The bastard claimed it was self-defense and with a little bag of gold and a smug smile he gets to walk away.
I was at my Mistress’s shrine when I heard the news. Rushing over to the docks seemed to take an eternity. It didn’t seem real, but there he was. The widow had his head resting in his lap and a tear lodged in the corner of her eye. I could hear her muttering, “the damned fool…”. I rushed to him and tried calling upon the Mistress’s grace to heal his wound. His eyes fluttered open; pain and a tinge of fear shrouded his face. But then a brief smile passed his lips as he saw me. He reached down and patted my hand, like he often did when I was a scared little girl, and whispered, “Dara, my princess… don’t be scared.” His body shuddered as the life left him.
I am not sure how long I stayed there on the dock, holding my pa. It felt like I had been punched in the gut. Someone, maybe the widow’s son, brought me back to our home. Ma was there, a grim look on her face. She held me and whispered, “I knew that I would lose him someday, I always assumed it would be to the sea.” I hugged her back, brushed the last tear from my eye and vowed to bring the bastard to justice.
Two weeks later, I was standing on the deck of the Flying Sprite, a small rigger heading for Port Peril. I had been able to find out little about the bastard that had killed my father. But, slowly I was closing in on him. I’d gotten a name, Avery Henderthane, a noble’s son from Cheliax that fancies himself a pirate.