05-17-2018, 02:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-17-2018, 05:24 PM by PepsiWhirda.)
Two days later, Whirda paused in her whirling combat routines. She placed one hand over her eyes to block the glare of the sun and made out the hazy outline of a ship cresting the horizon to the west--in the direction of Costa Del Sol. A surge of anticipation coursed through her. The promise of finding a cure for the shade’s curse filled her with hope, a hope she had not felt since first setting foot in the Pale Moors so many years ago.
No stranger to contests of swordplay and magic, Whirda had to admit the prospect of Dante’s Abyss excited her for other reasons as well. She relished the opportunity to put her skills to the test against capable opponents. On equal footing she knew she could contend with virtually any opponent, especially if she could find the balance between allowing the contagion in and keeping it from consuming her. No small task, she knew, but winning Dante’s Abyss represented perhaps her last chance at redemption. Whirda knew she would go to any lengths to ensure victory.
“Da Sea Sprite,” Tia said admiringly as the vast sails of the approaching ship came into view, billowed outward by strong winds to display a familiar crest.
“Luskan?” Whirda asked in disbelief.
Tia shrugged, unfamiliar with the name, but even from a distance Whirda knew she was right.
Her heart soared in her chest. “Its captain… what is his name?”
“Deudermont,” Tia replied.
Whirda clapped a hand to her mouth. “Impossible! Captain Deudermont is dead!”
Tia fixed her with a puzzling look. “You know of him?”
“We hail from the same city in our world,” Whirda said. “Captain Deudermont was the mayor of Luskan when I was a young woman, until he was slain in a pirate uprising. My mother saw him buried.”
“Well, he’s alive and well ‘ere,” Tia said. “In fact, he’s de one what brought you t’my door those years ago. Now go on girl, gather ya tings and be gone before I decide ta keep ya.” She offered a smile, but Whirda could see the pain and apprehension tingeing her expression. Even Jack, curled up on Tia’s shoulder, seemed to carry the burden of loss in his too-wise eyes.
“Come with me,” Whirda said for perhaps the tenth time in the past two days. “Has the heart of Tia Dalma grown so cold to the idea of adventure?”
“These old bones are tired, child,” Tia said. “I been adventurin’ since you was but a babe, and seen more’n my share of battles.”
The words fell flat on Whirda’s ears, and she suspected there was more to the story than Tia let on. She fixed the voodoo priestess with a cool stare and arced one thin eyebrow.
A flash of anger crossed Tia’s face, but it faded quickly, replaced by resignation. “You ain’t da only one wit a monsta inside ya, Whirda Windstrom,” she huffed. “When Calypso rises in me, I cannot trust I won’t lose control.”
“I have met your goddess,” Whirda replied with a crooked grin, referring to their skirmish weeks ago. “She does not seem so frightening.”
Tia could not help but chuckle at Whirda’s brazen proclamation.
“Come with me,” Whirda said again. “You and that infernal monkey.” She threw Jack a playful wink and the monkey chittered, a sound not unlike laughter. Then, her expression grew more somber. “Your presence keeps the shadows at bay. And I think I have a similar effect on you.”
For a long moment, Tia was silent. Then she turned on her heel and strode wordlessly into the shack, the door creaking shut behind her.
Whirda worried she had upset the voodoo priestess. She understood better than anyone the burden Tia Dalma carried as the vessel of Calypso, the angry goddess of the sea. Perhaps it was selfish to press her so. Perhaps it was her own fear that guided her words, rather than the perception of shared interest and common benefit.
The door banged open again and when Tia Dalma strode down the stairs, a bulging pack slung over one shoulder and a gnarled staff in one hand, Whirda knew her worry was misplaced.
“I’ll go,” Tia said, her expression caught somewhere between fear and excitement. “But don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
No stranger to contests of swordplay and magic, Whirda had to admit the prospect of Dante’s Abyss excited her for other reasons as well. She relished the opportunity to put her skills to the test against capable opponents. On equal footing she knew she could contend with virtually any opponent, especially if she could find the balance between allowing the contagion in and keeping it from consuming her. No small task, she knew, but winning Dante’s Abyss represented perhaps her last chance at redemption. Whirda knew she would go to any lengths to ensure victory.
“Da Sea Sprite,” Tia said admiringly as the vast sails of the approaching ship came into view, billowed outward by strong winds to display a familiar crest.
“Luskan?” Whirda asked in disbelief.
Tia shrugged, unfamiliar with the name, but even from a distance Whirda knew she was right.
Her heart soared in her chest. “Its captain… what is his name?”
“Deudermont,” Tia replied.
Whirda clapped a hand to her mouth. “Impossible! Captain Deudermont is dead!”
Tia fixed her with a puzzling look. “You know of him?”
“We hail from the same city in our world,” Whirda said. “Captain Deudermont was the mayor of Luskan when I was a young woman, until he was slain in a pirate uprising. My mother saw him buried.”
“Well, he’s alive and well ‘ere,” Tia said. “In fact, he’s de one what brought you t’my door those years ago. Now go on girl, gather ya tings and be gone before I decide ta keep ya.” She offered a smile, but Whirda could see the pain and apprehension tingeing her expression. Even Jack, curled up on Tia’s shoulder, seemed to carry the burden of loss in his too-wise eyes.
“Come with me,” Whirda said for perhaps the tenth time in the past two days. “Has the heart of Tia Dalma grown so cold to the idea of adventure?”
“These old bones are tired, child,” Tia said. “I been adventurin’ since you was but a babe, and seen more’n my share of battles.”
The words fell flat on Whirda’s ears, and she suspected there was more to the story than Tia let on. She fixed the voodoo priestess with a cool stare and arced one thin eyebrow.
A flash of anger crossed Tia’s face, but it faded quickly, replaced by resignation. “You ain’t da only one wit a monsta inside ya, Whirda Windstrom,” she huffed. “When Calypso rises in me, I cannot trust I won’t lose control.”
“I have met your goddess,” Whirda replied with a crooked grin, referring to their skirmish weeks ago. “She does not seem so frightening.”
Tia could not help but chuckle at Whirda’s brazen proclamation.
“Come with me,” Whirda said again. “You and that infernal monkey.” She threw Jack a playful wink and the monkey chittered, a sound not unlike laughter. Then, her expression grew more somber. “Your presence keeps the shadows at bay. And I think I have a similar effect on you.”
For a long moment, Tia was silent. Then she turned on her heel and strode wordlessly into the shack, the door creaking shut behind her.
Whirda worried she had upset the voodoo priestess. She understood better than anyone the burden Tia Dalma carried as the vessel of Calypso, the angry goddess of the sea. Perhaps it was selfish to press her so. Perhaps it was her own fear that guided her words, rather than the perception of shared interest and common benefit.
The door banged open again and when Tia Dalma strode down the stairs, a bulging pack slung over one shoulder and a gnarled staff in one hand, Whirda knew her worry was misplaced.
“I’ll go,” Tia said, her expression caught somewhere between fear and excitement. “But don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
![[Image: drink-pepsi-cola.jpg]](https://lph5i1b6c053kq7us26bdk75-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/drink-pepsi-cola.jpg)