Darkhand family/Darkhand Library/Captivity

What follows is a recounting of Maerk's Travels westward and Captivity and Torture

The priest Maerk had been in talks with the Justicar Alaster. He was to raise the necessary funds for his pilgrimage west from the faithful in donations. It was his task to save the western antiquities from the savageries of the fell beasts and unclean reanimated that had consumed the lands. He had also made it his personal mission to see to it that any smallfolk whom had braved the storms so far be returned to the White Plains and given new lands to homestead until they may one day return to their homes upon the western shores.

Justicar Helm had warned him that a lone travelling priest would be a ripe target for bandits, pirates, and worse that roamed the lands, specifically because of the steady jingle of coin that accompanied his every step. Maerk had just arrived at the apartments in Mimer and sought out a way in which to protect the donations of the faithful from any who may see fit to attempt to take them from him.

He deftly made his way to the quayside, where the practitioners of the deadly arts were known to haunt. One of the local priests suggested a name to him, “Hawken” he had said, “At the Two Tailed Trout ask to have a pitcher of Hawken’s Hellion Ale, you will be taken care of from there.” So that it what he had proceeded to do. Shortly after placing his order a smallish figure sat at the table bearing two cups. The man, if that’s what he truly was, spoke softly, so much so that Maerk had to strain to hear him. They briefly talked over the issue at hand, and by the night’s end Maerk had a heavy new set of robes sitting in his apartments. Hawken had done something he could not have every imagined himself, he had sown the coin into separate padded compartments all over the robes. They did not even make a sound when he tapped upon them.

The negotiated price was 40 gold pieces, however, upon inspection Maerk had counted the compartments, and not one piece was missing. Hawken’s note had explained that he was from the western shores, and as a faithful of the stars, could not accept payment for Maerk’s request, as his journey’s goal had touched him too deeply. He had also made arrangements for Maerk to receive passage upon a deft and small ferryboat from Mimer to Libidizedd, captained by a man going under the guise of “Rotgut”.

In the morning, Maerk made for the docks to seek out this man with an unfortunate name. He had no description of him, but it only took a few moments searching to find the man he was to travel with. The name was no lie, the poor man was tanned in the way that all sailors are, except for his giant belly, which was beyond swollen and more than a few shades of greens and blacks.

Rotgut gave out a hearty laugh upon seeing Maerk, “Priest! You seek to travel a path no sane man would. The lands are claimed by no Lordly person, and worse still the monsters and skeletons creep about freely.” Maerk made no remark to this, it truly was no undertaking for the weak of resolve. Rotgut began again, “A man of no words and less sense! I like that! Come let us get underway.” And at that Maerk walked the small gangway onto the Storm’s Resolve.

It had been a quiet journey thus far. Rotgut was boisterous to be sure, but none of the crew ever seemed to call back to their captain. There was a young boy, a bastard child of any of the countless wars, who ran about the ship as quickly and meekly as a mouse. He did not speak, but brought Maerk a few small dishes of fruits and cheeses, and prepared his White Tea for him. Maerk had attempted to speak to the boy about the stars, but whenever he spoke the young lad just gazed off into the distance.

“Oho! Priest come to me!” commanded Rotgut, standing at the bow of the small ship. Maerk gathered up his robes so as not to trip over them, he was still not used to the added weight of the coin he secretly travelled with, and pressed toward the man with the unforgettable belly. “There it is priest, we will make landfall momentarily. From here we will continue on to Golden Farro’, but first I have a man to see about a hoarse” and at that he gave out a hearty laugh. Maerk could only imagine that this man must pay a lord’s ransom for a night with a woman, though having never been a frequenter of the houses of night and silk, he couldn’t be certain. Being a priest did not require him to give up the pleasures of the flesh, but his all-consuming studies had quieted his desires.

They docked alongside a small town, if it could even be called that. There were some roughly thrown together shod houses, a large tavern, and a set of stables alongside the shore. It was not much, but it was all that could be expected in lands with no lordly guidance. Maerk made for the tavern to get a room for the evening, they would be leaving again at dawnbreak. Upon talking to the tavernhost he discovered that there was no bedding available there, and begun to make his way back to the ship when a young woman approached him. “Pardon sir priest,” she began “It doesn’t seem right to me to have a man of the cloth be rocked to sleep by the unforgiving arms of the seas. You can have my home if you would like, the stars would give you light to rest your mind in at least.” Maerk thanked her and followed her to her small hovel.

She told him of her life and gave him ale freely as they spoke of the stars and the light and of life in general. It had been a while since Maerk had any conversation of import with the smallfolk, and so the stars had seemed to provide him with one. The ale was bitter and left an overbearing aftertaste, but it cleared out the salt that had stained his throat from the trip. After his 4th glass he began to feel himself losing control over his body and the young woman walked him to her bed. She then disrobed, tears forming in her eyes, and disrobed the priest as well. “What is happening?” thought Maerk, he was fully aware, but had no way to move himself, at this his eyes screamed out in disbelief and the young woman began openly weeping. “I’m sorry m’lord. I have no choice here, my babies, they’ve had them for so long, you must understand. You must…” she trailed off as she began to ride upon him. “I’ll not send any priest off to the Kennels without at least one lasting memory. Though he was paralyzed and she was openly weeping, he could not help but lose himself in rapture, she was skilled beyond her years for certain, getting Maerk to climax just as he lost consciousness.

When he awoke he thought himself blind. He slowly regained his hearing and heard the rolling laughter of Rotgut in the distance. He was being moved against his will. His robes were upon him once again, but he was bound with his head covered, and judging from the sounds around him he was being taken deeper into a heavy forest. Maerk cleared his mind and sought out the influence of the stars, if this was to be their plan then so be it, but he would not go without first being balanced amongst the three.

After what seemed an eternity, the party had come to a stop. It was a deeper black here than he had ever known, and that caused Maerk great confusion, as surely by now it would be near midday. Maerk was swiftly given a strong blow to the back of his head, and once again darkness and quiet consumed him. When he finally roused he found he was unbound, and in a great semicircle cage crudely made of branches and logs of the surrounding trees. Upon hearing him rousing, a tall gaunt man stood from the nearby fire and approached the cage.

“Welcome to the Kennels Priest of bloody tidings, let’s have a talk shall we?” The man entered the cage and dragged the weary Maerk to a clearing nearby. The priest was no small man, but he was in no clear state of mind, and the ale seemed to still have most of his body numbed. “By the light of the Stars I ask for you to release me. I have to get to the western shores and bring any survivors back with me!” The gaunt man snickered at this. “Light of the stars eh? There’s a good deal many of them up there aint there? Why would your’s be any differ’nt from the rest? And I don’t know if you can see this or not, but, no stars’ light touches my grounds.”

The man signaled off to the side and a few of his companions approached with another prisoner in tow. “You’ll be wanting to watch this yeah? Just so you can tell I’m bein serious wit you.” At that the gaunt man snapped his fingers and a length of rope was attached to the frail prisoner, then dragged a short distance and attached to… one of the cursed reanimated! Maerk looked on in horror. The skeletal figure was bound by long chains to a wide oak, but it was freely able to move its arms. The men gathered round and cheered as this prisoner struggled to keep his distance from the abomination, but the skeletal figure pulled incessantly on the rope joining the two. It went on like this for hours, each time Maerk protested earned him another strike from the flat side of the gaunt man’s shortsword. Though the prisoner struggled valiantly, the reanimated never grew tired or weaker, and eventually the man’s will gave out, he was slowly dragged to his death, by dismemberment.

The gaunt man turned to Maerk, “So this will be your fate too I think, unless you tell me where that gold you be travellin with is hidden?” Maerk did not cherish the thought of dying in this way, but the coins he carried were donated by the faithful and their task was too great to surrender even one to this madman. The gaunt man was incensed by this, and for the next few days Maerk was subjected to this trial of wills between the reanimated and himself by day, and harsh grounds in the small wooden cage by night. Through it all he would not bend in the slightest, unwilling to sacrifice anything given in the name of the Stars.

On the fourth night Maerk went through feverish dreams, his wounds no doubt becoming infected by now, and the occasional touch of that unclean skeletal figure burned in the coldest way imaginable. Flights of arrows flew overhead as the screams of foul beasts, dying soldiers, and mutilated women rang out from every direction. This nightmarish battle took place upon lands that looked of his family crest, a single white rose upon a field of red, bowed in reverence to the 3 stars overhead in a sea of black. Finally he woke with a start. This was it! It was no fever dream but rather a vision for his escape.

Though it had been many moons, Maerk was well trained with the bow, and his cage had many suitable branches for a rudimentary weapon, but he lacked anything with which to string it. One of his captors had been a faithful of the BloodStars for a time, and had kept quiet conversation with him when all others were drunkenly passed. This man took Maerk’s brooch of his family crest, not much more than painted silver, and gave him a small ball of twine to “keep his mind busy”. From there Maerk set about his plan.

Bow in hand with a half dozen roughly hewn arrows, Maerk prepared to make his attempt at the break of dawn. He attached the remaining twine to his first arrow, he had but one shot, if he missed it would be death most certainly. He took calculated aim, and with a soft twang loosed the arrow, which struck his lone guard through the back of the throat, the man went down quietly, for which Maerk made a small prayer in thanks. He pulled the man’s lifeless body back to the gate of his cage with the twine cutting deeply into his hands. Raw and bleeding, the made purchase of the key upon his captor, and quietly, quickly, Maerk made off into the waxing light of day.