Part 1
A Waisted Foil
Voices lulled from a murmuring cacophony to a dull prattle. A stagnate serenity washed over the Knight’s Cap Tappery as the Storyteller nestled into their seat on the stage. They took a slow deliberate sip of their Anataran Amber. The stuff goes down like wet chalk, but they stifled the grimace and twirled the empty glass from their left hand to the right.
“On with it, Teller! We’ve been waiting all night for this blood-hexed story o’ yours!” An impatient regular blurted out from the bar. “Shit’s better be good…” He grumbled before burying his beard into the pint in his hand.
Teller gave a wry smirk before gesturing towards the bar. “Sailors and Sellswords, we have ourselves a Legend in our keep.”
The impatient regular looked up with a cocked brow and looked about. “M-me?”
“Stars, no. Not you Wallard. I’m speaking of course of the great Bellamy Dusk.” They gestured an upturned hand and pointed two fingers at an unassuming man nursing a bottle of Asrian Brandy. The man raised two fingers from the bottle in a haphazard wave and gave an awkward smile that turned his cheeks up, squinting his steely gray eyes. He pulled his rain hood off revealing short black hair and a scar cutting from his left brow and stretching over his hairline.
“He’s returned from a voyage to Eiyulenierr,” Teller gestured upwards with both hands, “the great ringed planet of living storms! And I had the pleasure of accompanying him on this journey. Now sitback drunkards, and be beguiled by my Tale of Captain Bellamy and the Eiyulinite Gems…”
A sky’s passing later and nearly the whole tappery was entranced in Teller’s narrative. It had all the makings of a grand epic. Action, drama, suspense, and most important, it was completely full of shag shit. Bellamy teetered in his chair feeling 3 quarters of a bottle of Asrian Brandy trying to climb its way back up. “I worked hard slogging y- hic- ou down. You’re not com-” Bellamy’s eyes bulged as he pushed himself to his feet and staggered away from the bar.
“Oi, Bell, you alright, there?” Called Cap, the tappery’s owner. A broad Dvergr with emerald tinted adamant growing from their forearms and cheekbones. Their bald head was adorned with the same shimmery adamant as well as their chin. Though, the adamant on their chin was mostly hidden by a long white beard.
“Aye Cap,” Bellamy said with a wink and a thumbs up. “I’ll be right back to pay off that tab, don’t you…” Bellamy trailed off as he stumbled out the front door.
Burrs of city street whizzed by as Bellamy searched for a secluded place to free the churning Brandy making war in his stomach. Illuminated by the looming Aurora lantern, Bellamy stood swaying side to side like a confused pendulum. Dazzling Aurora pulsed through the night sky, guiding Bellamy’s gaze upwards towards the colossal planet floating in perfect view. Eiyulenierr, the twisting hellscape that Bellamy had just returned from. He swayed there for an endless second, fixed on Eiyulenierr until the sail from a passing voyager vessel riding the current of the Aurora Stream obstructed his view of the great celestial body.
Broken from his drunken reverie, Bellamy scanned the street signs. “Delz’s Hells, Where am I?” He stumbled backwards before colliding with a young man, knocking him off balance. Before the other man could fall, Bellamy caught him by the coat collar and eased him back up. He started, “Sorry mate, I-”
“You drunken cunt! Your filthy hands wrinkled my new coat!” The man spoke with the arrogance and poise of a young nobleman. His Ashen Blond hair was tousled into a longer twist in the front and a tight shave in the back.
Embroidered on the youngmans chest lepel was a familiar house sigel and the characters for “Second Son”. So he was of nobility. To his left was a shorter woman with soft chestnut skin wearing an elegant layered dress cut with the modern Aparthan fashion, Shorter in the front and longer in the back. Her deep red lips and violet eyes reflected brilliantly in the pulsing Aurora Light. A tall figure loomed behind the pair, striking an ominous silhouette. Both the nobleman and the tall figure were armed with longswords at one hip and a flintlock at the other.
Bellamy, disregarding the potential danger of the situation, learned past the nobleman and whispered to the girl, “This kids a bothersome little -hic prick, isn't he?” Bellamy turned his palm out to the woman and grinned. “My name is Captain Bellamy Dusk.”
With a face growing gradually redder, the Noble slid between the two and fixed a hateful glare at Bellamy. “You’ve accosted me, insulted by honor, and now you attempt to court my betrothed? This is an insult I cannot let slide. By my name as Estlin Coventry. I challenge you to a duel to first blood!”
The figure behind them stepped forward and placed a hand on Estlin’s shoulder. “Sir?” A cutting glare from Estlin made the guard step back and resume his place looming behind them.
Bellamy cocked a lazy half smile. “To what reward and loss?” Feeling the uneasy effects of inebriation, he tottered into the aurora lamp and then leaned onto it for balance.
Estlin sneered, “If I win , I want that captain's jacket of yours…”
“...and if I win, I want to take your betrothed out on my ship. She looks like she could use some time away from your crooked mug.” Bellamy said pointing with a swaying finger.
Estlin flared his nostrils and drew his longsword from its scabbard. The blade had a foggy glean to it with a beautiful etching carved to resemble tumbling waves. A handguard, ornamented with silver ribbons spiraled around the blue banded hilt. Estlin adjusted his form and footing, entering into a combat stance. “Draw your blade, cur, so I can end this quickly and be off with your coat.”
Bellamy hung his head down and looked to the blade at his hip. Even looking upon it made his soul thrum with a synchronized rhythm. If he used this against this sword, Estlin would surely die. “Hmm. I think I’ll just kick your ass with these.” Bellamy raised one hand, centered it to it was level with his jaw then curled it into a fist. He left the other further forward with his open palm facing downward. “Alright prick, come on.”
Estlin took one long step forward and lunged with his longsword. The metal blade scraped against the iron pole of the aurora lamp where Bellamy once was. With his open palm, Bellamy pinned the flat of the blade against the aurora lamp. He then brought his other fist back over his opposite shoulder and spun out ward. Bellamy’s fist collided with Estlins face with a heavy crack. The built up momentum from the spin caused Estlin’s body to leave the ground and twist in the air before slamming back into the ground. Bellamy looked to his left where he still had the blade pinned against the lamp pole. He released it and caught it by the hilt with his other hand.
“Is it too late to change my reward?” Bellamy said as he flourished the blade. “This beautiful foil is wasted on you as well.”
Estlin’s betrothed scowled at the still swaying Bellamy. “I don’t court with men who treat women as trophies to be rewarded for a good show of brutality.” She strode over the Estlin and kneeled down beside him.
Bellamy raised his brow and frowned. “Hmm.. so the sword then?”
From the ground, through painted groans, Estlin says, “I’m to be a captain soon. I can't be losing duels to drunkards in the streets. What would father say?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Bellamy and said coldly, “Esper Coventry won’t hear of you losing any duels. Because you didn't lose any duels, dear. You were jumped by a drunk thug. Assaulted in the street.”
Bellamy’s teeth grinded together as a wave of anger washed over him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He began to march towards them before noticing a looming shadow cast over him. He wheeled around just in time to catch the heavy blow of the guard’s sword with Estlin’s blade. With a tight two handed grip, Bellamy held to the borrowed sword. The two blades clashed together with a metallic din. The large guard lifted his blade and brought it back down against Bellamy’s guarded stance with such crushing force Bellamy’s knees buckled. Blow after concussive blow, Bellamy found himself losing footing and felt his stance slipping. His hands began to go numb against the repeated impact. As the guard lifted his sword once more, Bellamy flung himself into a tumble to the side as his adversary slammed his blade into the cobblestone. With a twirling flourish, Bellamy wheeled around and brought the sword up then snapped it back down again.
Panting with the crashing sound of his heartbeat pounding away in his ears, Bellamy restructured his footing and braced himself for another volley. The guard didn’t rush him though. He just fell to his knees. His heavy shape sagging down. Suddenly, sound seeped back into Bellamy’s ears. The guard was wailing, blood pooling from both his wrists. At his feet lay both his hands and a discarded sword. Bellamy turned away from his downed foe to see Estlin standing 20 paces away with a flintlock pointed at him.
“Oh, Fu-” Bang!
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