Henrik Thrane
A collection of RPs that will one day be used to create an autobiography
Henrik fell to a knee, the plump Earl of Mattan Dews breathed heavily as sweat poured from his face.
“Very good, my Lord.” Encouraged his tutor, “Remember to pivot and be aware. You must anticipate your enem….”
Henrik grunted as his raised, using his sword to take his weight. “Aye, and you best remember…” He coughed, “…who’s gold you’ve got in your purse.” He repositioned to begin again. “En garde!”
The tutor raised his blade with some hesitancy, looking to Henrik’s scribe for reassurance who nodded with a wink. Henrik thrusted into a parry; once, twice and thrice again. The now visibly frustrated Henrik swung his blade overhead and with the loud clash of steel the tutor dropped to the ground.
The elated Henrik began to laugh deeply. “Your finesse falters when met with power.” He said between more heavy breaths.
Henrik bursts into the office of Askileon’s premier shipwright as the sun begins to set with his scribe in toe. “Avast ye salty swine!” He chuckles to himself smelling of liquor with his head held high. The shipwright was unamused with such a greeting, but gave a polite, “Aye, me Lord?” after clearing his throat.
“Look here, I am in need of a ship.” Henrik fumbles for his coin purse and tosses it at the shipwright’s feet. He kneels down to pick it up and begins counting, “Aye, a ship me Lord? We may be able to acquire something for ye...” He says with a smile, rubbing a coin between his thumb and finger.
“Well of course you will…” Henrik burps and continues, “See to it that is anchored off the coast of Mattan in two days time.” The Earl began to walk around inspecting the array of tools and parchments littered through the office. “I’ll be needing it to carry thirty souls, a decent payload and cargo space…” Henrik licked his lips, “mmmm plenty of cargo space.” He seemed to become enthralled and lost at those words.
“Aye, aye…Bu…oh aye.” The shipwright would interject while making mental notes of Henrik’s requests. “That’s all well an’ good me Lord, easy ‘nuff. What be ye takin’ ta callin’ it then?”
The catatonic Henrik blinked and grinned, “Oh I’ve the perfect name…she be the Panetier’s Folly…”
