An Old Man's Quest: Part 3

Marcus Biscay · 08-23-2010, 04:51 PM

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This needs to be post dated to July 31st. It shall be the last of these pre-dated threads (finally!). I need to know (roughly) how this will end, as it will impact my next thread with Ghita. So... Marcus wants to move his ship up into Rabbit Lake, and anchor on the coastline. Shall he succeed :-)? Also, for this next post, I don't know if you want anybody else to be around in the Manor, but it might make sense. Your choice.

An odd tide was coming in. It was unusually rougher than normal. Of course, normal was a ridiculous term to use, seeing as how Marcus had only arrived on the shores of Crimson Dreams three days prior. Perhaps this sort of tide was normal in these parts. It only woke Marcus because he had grown somehow accustomed to the playful waves he had experienced the days before. A stem of memory was struck. In the Summer of 2006, Marcus was sent on assignment to Egypt, to reclaim Alexandria, and recover an artifact from the library. By the time The Musketeer and his platoon had arrived, most of the mercenaries defending the city had deserted their employer, and so the siege was fairly simple. What was not simple was the journey home. An unusual wind picked up just as the Congregatio ships passed by Crete. The winds soon turned to storm, and the storm soon turned to disaster. Out of the three ships Marcus had with him, only one survived, and out of the 50 men in his platoon, only three survived. After the storm, Marcus took a two week leave from duty. He had seen what he had thought was the end of the world. White lightning, vivid and strong, crashing down, throwing masts violently from their homes. Rain the size of golf balls slamming onto the ship decks, almost piercing the hull, and giving sailors massive head trauma. But worst of all was the water spouts. Marcus had never seen them before. He did not have a name to describe them, and so he coined them 'Drinking Gyros'. He called them so because of their terrible tendency to gyrate wildly into anything in their path, and drink them clear out of the water. They were some of the most terrifying things he had seen in his entire life, and he would never forget what they had done to his men.

The loud sound of crashing waves woke Marcus at an early time. He wished to stay sleeping, but figured that the sooner he got moving, the sooner he would reach Haven Manor. As per his routine, he rose from his bunk, wound his watch, and made his way to the galley. The walking he had been doing had payed off. His ankles remained pleasantly neutral as he walked about his ship. Perhaps they were pleased that their story had been shared, or perhaps they simply needed a good lap of exercise. Marcus started a fire in his stove, and collected the ingredients he had scavenged the day before. More eggs, and a collection of small fish. He took his time cooking, and ate a pleasant breakfast while reflecting on his encounters with both Ghita and Ehno. If Savina shared any of the traits similar to both siblings, Marcus would have no trouble enjoying a pleasant conversation with her. The old man's jowls formed a smile, and he chuckled to himself. Many things were to be 'pleasant' today, weren't they?

Marcus dressed himself in his quarters, taking particular care in handling his detailed burgundy vest. He had been through quite a lot with that vest. Perhaps should it be said that the vest had been through quite a lot with Marcus. He could still recall the day his mother gave it to him. She was so filled with pride, the smile on her face could have cured a dying man. Unfortunately, to her bad luck, she was a dying woman. At her cremation, Marcus had thought of giving her the vest which had made her so happy. Glad was he now, that he had not. He had nothing else to keep as a token of her love. He thought of the people he had left behind. He had nothing to show for them but a few trinkets and toys. But Marcus would not dwell on the past any longer. He checked his right watch... Eight o' clock. Time to set out.

Grabbing his cane and equipment, Marcus walked out from his ship and down the boarding plank. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and began to walk North, towards the Mersey river. As he approached the river, he looked to the sky. It was cloudy, and looked as if it might rain. This didn't bother Marcus. A cool rain would be nice to combat the hot weather. After a long walk up the river, Marcus came to the lake once again, and took out his spyglass. Before he could use it, however, he noticed that the fog settling on the lake was too thick to see through. This sort of weather reminded his of England. It felt like home. The old man trudged through the fog, and passed by the landmarks he had known before. The great windmill at which he had met Ehno, and the goat filled cottage where he and Ghita had shared the stories of their accidents. A smile was brought to Marcus' face as he remembered his encounters with the two Marinos. An excitement flared up in his stomach. He was getting close. He took out his compass from his satchel, and gave it a quick look. Once he found North, he scanned his surroundings, and headed out in the direction which he felt would hold Haven Manor.

After a short walk, the fog began to lift, and Marcus could make out the figure of a structure in the near horizon. It was large, and rectangular, with a steeped roof. As he drew closer, he recognized the building, and sighed deep with relieved happiness. He had finally reached his destination. Inside, who knows what he would find. Perhaps he would meet a few new pack members, with whom he could converse? Perhaps. Perhaps he would gaze upon a few familiar faces? Anu, Ehno, Ghita; all would be a welcome sight. But his goal remained the same: he would meet Savina Marino today.

The old man walked up to the front of the mammoth building, and faced the front door. He was reminded of the Colosseum, and it's sheer immensity. Even in it's war-torn and weathered state, it was still a wonder to behold. The arches in particular gave Marcus chills. An old arm raised a cane up to the centre of the door in front of it, and rapped the wood a total of five times. Just enough to get attention without being obnoxious. Marcus stepped back from the door, placed his cane between his legs, and used it for support as he waited for somebody to open before him, the portal to which he could only hope would be an agreeable encounter. His old eyes wandered around to his satchel, and grew silent upon the small lump of faded parchment, resting in the middle of his equipment. His mind soon returned to the present, and commanded his eyes forward. The future would soon be at hand.

wc = 1,197

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