The Third Age: The Icronian Wars

As far as taverns went, the Frisky Crow was by far the dirtiest, the raunchiest, and always seemed to have a smell about it that was halfway between homely and nauseating. The glasses were almost as scummy as the people, the barkeep was missing two fingers, and flies hovered around the back room where the "Meat of the Day" was prepared. In wedged in between the floorboards was an assortment of broken glass, termites, and a few missing teeth.

The main room was scattered with half rotted tables where men drank away their problems, along with their weekly wage. The walls were lit by the flicker of half melted candles and a small hearth, the flames flicking haphazard shadows all about the room. The chairs were mismatched and falling apart, some of the glasses were chipped and stained with blood from the occasional brawl that would break out among the drunks.

The men themselves were a shaggy, beaten sort. The kind you would expect to either find on the street or at a barstool. Matted hair, unkempt beards, and stained clothes were the norm. The nature of the stains was often best left unknown. Their breath smelled of rotted teeth and alcohol, putrid enough to dizzy any man unaccustomed to the odor, and their gaze was usually between a state of sleep and stupor.

However, the Crow served the tallest mugs of rum in the small port-town of Gilden, and that was enough for Mira Theo'lith.

As she slammed down another mug against the bar, Mira twirled her finger in the air, the signal to the barkeep for another round. The man gave her a look out of his one good eye, as if to imply she may have had enough. Raising her eyes to meet the man's she shook the coin purse at her side. Rolling his eyes, the batman began to pour yet another glass.

Mira was no longer sure how many mugs that had passed her lips. She'd lost count around the fourth pint. What she was clear on was the inescapable fact that she was now horribly drunk. Her cheeks had reddened nearly to the shade of her flowing scarlet hair. Her tail, of an equal hue, wagged lazily back and forth, brushing against the barstool. A large pair of wolf ears twitched every which way, catching the small noises throughout the tavern. By this point, her liver was most certainly having a tiff, but the Fey woman had stopped paying attention to its tantrums long ago.

As another mug slid in front of her, Mira sneered greedily and took a long draught of the rum. By the time she'd finished half the glass and been drained and the bar in front of her was just that much more blurred. As she leaned in for another go, she felt a something press tightly against her right shoulder.

Looking over to inspect the problem, she found a large, meaty, scarred hand to be the culprit. Her eyes dragged their way up the hand, then the arm, and then the shoulder until they met with those of a bearded hulk of a man. Mira didn't recognize him. She then looked over her other shoulder. Another man. A dwarf, actually. He was a mean looking fellow with an ugly scar running across his huge nose. This one she knew. She also knew the voice that ringed like rusted steel behind her head.

"Mira, darling. Has anyone ever told you you're a hard girl to find?"

Mira swung herself recklessly around the barstool, coming face to face with a tall, lanky wood elf. His sickly yellow eyes sank far back into his head, giving him a hollow, ghostly look, and his chin harbored what seemed to be a perpetual fuzz. He was grinning widely.

Slurring, Mira spoke. "Welden. What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know this place had a roach problem."

Welden faked a chuckle and leaned in closer to Mira. His breath smelled of rotten elderberries. "Oh Mira, you're such a kidder..." She felt the other man's grip on her shoulder tighten. Welden slid onto the barstool next to her and grinned.

"Darling, lets get to the point, shall we?"

Mira locked eyes with the elf. "Only if you stop calling me "darling", you slick sack of shit."

The grin vanished from Walden's face, replaced by a scowl. "Fine then, you mutt. Where in Saulen is my shipment?"

"Oh.." She snorted in laughter. "That... I suspect it's wreck is sitting along the bottom of Old Man Icron right about now." Their eyes locked again. Walden seemed neither pleased nor surprised.

"I suspected as much, you bitch. Do you have any idea how much you've cost me?" Miah jabbed a finger out at Walden's face, swaying a bit and taking another sip of her rum.

"Not me... Not me, mate! Blame Captian Jirus for that one."

"Captain Jirus is dead."

"Along with about half his crew, don't forget them," Mira slurred. "Damned fine bit of luck I got away... Helris ship got the wind on us. We took her down, but your ship took its share of leaks. I managed to keep her up long enough to catch a ride with some merchant out of Carthis. Quite skillful on my part."

"Well Mira, with Jirus dead, someone has to compensate me for my loss. Any guesses on who that might be?"

The first mate put her finger to her chin and feigned deep thought. "Hmm.... Nope. No help for you there Welly! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a drink to attend to." She swung back around and got a firm hold on the handle of her mug. From behind her the large man started to say something.

"Listen you bitc-" Mira swung her arm around, smashing the mug into the man's skull. The glass shattered and rum flew across the room. The large man screamed and clutched at his face as the blood ran into his eyes. She was able to crush her boots into the man's stomach before both Walden and his other friend tackled her off the barstool.

Mira crashed to the floor and felt her breath rush out of her as she collided with the hard wooden planks. Dazed and drunk, she attempted to get to her feet. A fist slammed into her face, smacking her head against the ground once again. She saw stars as her vision faded in and out. Seconds later, she became vaguely aware she was being dragged across the floor. Then, before she could react, she felt her shoulder ram into the tavern's side door and she was outside in the alley besides the Crow.

As she rolled through the dirt, the smell of musky beer and stale piss began to give way to rotten garbage and staler piss. Above her, the stars that weren't blocked by the clouds shimmered brightly. For a moment, she thought it looked almost serene. Then the dwarf's ugly nose got in the way and the next thing she felt was his foot in her gut.

Soon Walden joined in on the beating, not above doing his own dirty work. Before long, Mira started to wait for the blow that would knock her unconscious. It dawned on her between impacts that after she passed out, they may continue to beat her to death. Maybe it was just the rum talking, but part of her seemed to be just fine with that. Just let it all be done. If she was going to die, at least she was going to be too drunk to care.

As her vision began to fade, she thought she heard some type of pop in her ears. Then everything just stopped. They had stopped hitting her for some reason. Why had they stopped? Why now? They were so close. Why didn't they just help her to slip away? What was going on?

She opened her eyes and rolled on her side. Pain. More stars. They had broken at least two ribs. To her side, she saw Walden lying next to her. He was missing most of his head. What was left was staring back at her like a lifeless doll. It was disgusting, but to Mira was nothing new. Mira smiled. Serves him right. He hardly used that bit of his brain anyway.

Through the ringing in her ears she thought she heard something. A voice calling her name. She slowly rolled onto her back to see who her rescuer was. When she saw Korbius Denson standing over her, she considered turning back over.

A tall, broad shouldered human, Korb wore an expensive, creme colored wool coat. Perched on his nose was a pair of large, round glasses which seemed slightly odd on his square, blocky face. Now in his fifties, his wavy black hair was beginning to grey and his goatee had acquired a peppery color. In his hand was a flintlock, the smoke from the barrel swirling in front of the moon.

His lips were moving and as the ringing started to fade from her ears, Mira began to make out what he was saying.

"...er me...? I said... Me.... You alri... Hello? Mira? Can you hear me?"

She groaned, "Yes Korb, I hear you damnit! Now will you stop running your mouth for a second?" Pushing herself up to a sitting position, Mira gasped as her ribs seemed to explode. "Gah! Help me up will you?"

She offered her other hand and with Korb's help got to her feet. Standing at about 6'1" Mira was much taller than Korb who came in at around 5'8". She looked down at Welden's corpse and spat. Then she looked at Korb and asked, "What do you want?"

Korb grinned. "That's a funny way of saying thank you."

"You consider us even now for that job three years ago."

"Are you still hung up on that? How was I supposed to know those crates were filled with contraband? Further more, I am in no way responsible for those port officials going for a hanging sentence!" As always, the words seemed to slide off his tongue, as slick as silk.

Mira knew him better. "Whatever Korb. What the in Saulen are you even doing here?"

"What?" He shrugged, an innocent look on his face. "I just happened to be passing by when I saw a good friend of mine in need. I did what anyone would do."

"Bullshit. You don't just, 'pass by' Korb. Spill it."

Korbius sighed. "You really are a pain sometimes you know that?"

"Korb..." Despite the pain in her side, she still managed to state the man down.

"Fine, fine... I have a job you may-"

"Forget it!" Mira turned on her heels, still grasping her sides and began to head back into the bar to gather her things.

"I'll buy you a drink and we can talk it over." Mira stopped. After a moment she growled without looking back, "Beormian Whisky. Five bottles of it."

"Whatever you desire, m'lady." With that they headed inside. Mira was looking forward to the numb that would come. The ache in her ribs was starting to get to her.

----------

Half a bottle later, Mira still wasn't sure about Krob's plan. He'd lied to her before.

"So," she began with a heavy slurr, "let me get this straight. You want me to captain this ship of yours?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"And we're working for Falroth?"

"As mercenaries, yes. Falroth is hurting right now and they are paying an arm and a leg to any competent teams they can find."

Mira scoffed. "But I don't have a 'team'!"

"I've already taken care of that, my dear. I've already hired your crew and I've posted advertisements across Urasis for the more... Specialized positions."

Mira stared at Korb. It sounded almost too good. "I want to check all the crew myself."

"Of course."

"I'll inspect the ship before we leave."

"I've payed top dollar to retrofit a merchant galleon. You won't find a faster ship, I promise you."

"Payment?"

"We split any income 30%/70%. Of course, part of that 70% will have to be dispersed among your team."

"Of course..." Mira growled.

Korb sighed, sensing the hostility. "Listen Mira, you're as good a potential captian as I can find. You know every corner of the Icronian and I know you know your way around a ship. This is a prime opportunity. Where else are you going to get your own ship and crew?"

"Korb... I swear, if you screw me..."

"Mira, darling. Please. Have a little faith in me!" His smile was about as slimy as an eel. For a moment, Mira considered walking out right there. She'd already made five bottles of Whisky out of this deal. Still, she was tempted.

Before the night was over, she found herself shaking hands with Korb. Within a week, she was in Falroth, the trip courtesy of Korbius and his money. A few days later, she was looking out over an assembly of men and women hand picked by who other than Korb. From atop a platform, she frowned. The crew seemed fresh and green from her first glance. Among them, she was sure were these so called 'specialists' Korb had been looking for. They would each have to be reviewed before they stepped foot on ship.

As she contemplated just what she had gotten into, she tightened the bandana around her head. She lifted up her shit and jacket to check the bandages around her ribs. They still ached a bit, but she would be able to work with the pain. She began to saunter towards the men and women milling about on the docks with all the confidence and swagger she could muster, her boots stepping loudly on the wooden planks.