On a bench along the coast.

Drache is the present-day capital of the Kingdom of Arangoth and lies at the mouth of the River Darian, surrounded by the city docks all along the waterfront. Click here for information on the various suburbs and areas of Drache. You can also click here to view a sketched map of the city.
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DahG
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Joined: Sat Oct 20, 2012 3:58 am

On a bench along the coast.

Post by DahG »

Major William Ka`ana`ana was a man of the sun. Though he had long since adapted to climates and seasons, to cold snaps and heat waves, he still was a man of the islands. Warmth was in his bones. There was very little he found more pleasurable in this world than to relax in the sun, and stretch out his lazy bones. He took up the vast majority of the bench he had taken up residence, spreading his lanky form across the entire seat like some hedonist while he strummed poorly at a guitar he had acquired from somewhere since his arrival here in Drache.

Ka`ana`ana was not a good guitar player, though he always had a dream of being a famous musician one day, perhaps after he retired from the service. It was good to get the practice in now, just in case he made it big one day. He wrinkled his big broad nose as an angry sound came from the instrument. First things first, he was going to have to learn what those chords were bards kept talking about. One day.

Between false notes, he set down the guitar and lifted an eyeglass up. The bench he had chosen, down at the lip of the coastline some place south of the Black Dragon, was not accidental. For one, it afforded an excellent view of the fading sunset as it bled out in rolling waves of yellow and red on its way to ultimate destination, black. Second, it allowed him an excellent view of Pier 3, and The Last Place You Look. A name he considered a bit of a misnomer, seeing as how obvious it was sitting there on the horizon.

While the Major might not be a man of many talents, the talents he did have were highly refined. Naturally, his first objective upon arrival to Drache was to orient himself. The second was to have a bit of chat with the locals. More for his sake, than anyone elses'-- he was just human, after all.

It was a matter of course that his third was to have the various magistrates of Drache tailed.

That was best practices and, frankly, good business. No battle was ever won due to lack of information, after all. Not all battles involved swords and sorcery.

He lowered the eyeglass and collapsed it, setting it delicately on the grassy turf beneath the bench. Out of sight, out of mind, though he wasn't foolish enough to be caught gawking while random passerbys were near. It had been hours spend on that bench, playing that tune that sounded like a cat being strangled from his fingertips. He didn't mind the wait, any more than he minded his abject failure at playing. Major Ka`ana`ana was a patient man.

Long after the sun had lost it's battle with the moon, retreating beneath the specter of Castle Black, he heard the soft hiss of feet padding through grass behind him. Ka`ana`ana turned, a smile writ large on his face to greet a man he knew very well. He had kept a very detailed list of people he knew to be good and true, well maintained from his years spend on this world. Most of them had been lost, going other ways since his return. He treasured the ones who remained.

This one was a laborer, in tar-stained canvas that passed for an outfit. A simple builder, with a simple face, and a complicated mind. One in a million. How delighted he was to hear that the man was hired to help build the air docks. Ka`ana`ana didn't believe in luck, but he did know opportunity when it presented itself.

The laborer shifted his feet beneath Ka`ana`ana's cheshire grin, and suddenly grew furtive, turning away from Ka`ana`ana and displaying an intense interest in the sea before them. "Nightingales," the laborer said in a clunky Reshalian.

"Wood finch," Ka`ana`ana said, completing the simple sign-countersign. It was an amateur's mistake to rely on hard-to-remember phrases and exotic shibboleths. "And how does our little bird fly?"

"Straight into the nest," the laborer said, and pulled a few sunflower seeds out of his vest's pocket to chew on, as if talking wasn't enough activity to satisfy his mouth. "To sing a little song to the albatross."

"Oh? A very serious song?" Ka`ana`ana twanged his guitar, and climbed up the register of his instrument note by note. At least he could do that much. "A ballad, or a jig?"

"A simple song. A social song."

"I've heard birds sing for many reasons. For mating, sometimes. To call to their friends. To warn others. I wonder."

"You'll wonder twice." The laborer spit out a sunflower shell out of the side of his mouth with a grimace. "I chatted up some of the other blokes. Not the first time she's come singing."

"Is that so? Interesting," Ka`ana`ana said, from somewhere deep within his rumbling chest. "I trust you know the songs."

The laborer patted the other pocket in his vest. "By heart. What could be heard."

"I've decided, my friend. I just don't have the ear for music. No, no, don't protest. You know it to be true." Ka`ana`ana curled his toes and stretched, sending nearly every joint in his body popping and cracking. Then he rose to his feet, guitar in hand, and held it out to the laborer. "It would be a waste to let this fine guitar rot in a dusty closet, though. Perhaps it was better meant for you."

The laborer took the guitar with a wicked grin, and in the same motion fished out the parchment hidden in his breast pocket and handed it off. "I'm tone-deaf."

"How unfortunate," Ka`ana`ana said as he palmed the report up his tan sleeve. "Give it a shot anyways, I insist. If you find it's not to your liking, well, I'm quite certain the guitar will fetch a princely sum on the market."

"Good to know. Given up your dreams of being a bard, then?"

"Oh, yes. Today I realized I've always wanted to be a birdwatcher."
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