Bosworth Family/Henry/Voyage to Beluaterra

Henry's journey from Atamara to Beluaterra did not happen exactly as planned. It is documented in the following role plays as shared with the realm of Riombara.

Posted August 12, 2012

Calis, Atamara. One week ago.

“If I may be so bold, why are we doing this again, Sir Henry?” Garr was a pragmatic young man. Not much younger than Henry, and the wiser of the two. But he knew his station – usually.

“It is too bold, Garr, but as you’ve been with me since I was 11, I shall overlook the affront.” Henry gave Garr a half smile. His valet was truly his best friend, perhaps his only friend, and Henry knew it. “It is not like last time.”

Garr raised his eyebrows. “Six years ago, you had an awful row with your uncle. Afterward, we packed all the gold we could and set off for Calis to sail for the Far East. Last week, you had another fight with his lordship, we have all your gold in cash, and we have just purchased passage at Calis.”

“I must admit, there are similarities.” Henry’s smirk widened just a bit. “But six years ago, the gold was Uncle Norvel’s, and he caught us before we reached the Taran border.” He paused for a moment, scowling. “This is different. I’m doing this with a cool head. I’ve always dreamt of the Far East, you know that. I need to see it for myself, but I simply couldn’t make Uncle understand.”

“I suppose dreams are important.” Garr grimaced. “On the other hand, I’ve always dreamt of living at least 25 years, and with the stories I’ve heard of sea travel, neither of us may get what we want.”

“You’re a nagging old woman, Garr. Stop grousing and load the baggage.”

Posted August 13, 2012

Onboard ship. Seven days ago.

Finally asleep, Henry was still queasy even in his dreams – sea travel was not the romantic adventure he’d hoped for. In his dream, he was falling from the ship’s rigging down toward the sea. Nothing to hold on to, no way to break his fall, just waves growing ever higher, and ever-worsening sickness inside. Down and down – here came the splash …

THUD!

Jarred awake, Henry had fallen out of bed onto the floor of his cabin. His stomach was reeling, but more alarmingly, the ship was reeling. Creaking and groaning all around, it swung wildly to and fro beneath him. Henry was sick then and there on the rug.

With great effort, he crawled out the door toward the deck. Just inside the hatch, Garr cowered, looking as ill and afraid as Henry felt. “We’re to stay below, sire. The storm is too violent. Captain asked the passengers to pray their gods will keep the ship together. Maybe someone’s god will hear.”

Henry’s frown deepened. “I’ve never been much good at praying. It seems you have a knack for prophecy, though.”

Garr shook his head at Henry’s grim humor. “I’m sorry I ever said anything, sir.” And with a shudder, he threw up on the stairs.

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This story is still in progress and will be finished over the coming days.