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Jax Arwylde...the Tales of an Old Wharf Rat (Long)
Posted: 03 Jun 2004 02:51 AM |
This being the story of Jax Arwylde's origins, as told to me, over a few too many ales one nite in the 'Cutlass'. Any falacies or errors are mine alone, with the ales as co-defendents.
Part 1
Borne and raised in a small fishing village along the inner sea, not far from Buckshire. His mother, Karin, had died at his birth, leaving his father, Willem, to raise him. He was wetnursed and raised beside the children of Anna, the human midwife that had attended his birth. Timmy (the closest to Jax in age of Anna's children) and Jax, soon became inseperable and near as brothers as could be. All the while, his father worked for the village smithy, making all the fittings, bolts, hinges & metal pieces needed to keep the fishing boats afloat. As a craftsman, Jax father was a follower of Vasteladorian, and so taught his son the teachings of the patron of craftsman & artisans.
Now his father worked long days at the shop, then he would come home, and do the household duties that his wife used to. This left him little time for Jax, which in the end, kept them from being as close as they both would have liked. As Jax got older, this lack of supervision allowed him to grow more precocious and adventurous. He would occasionally, as do most younguns, get in trouble, usually with the aid of a friend or two. Like the time he and Timmy derailed the cart that brought the salt up to the curing house from the dockside. When the cart tipped off the tracks, the whole load of salt, landed on top of Master Jenkins while he sat at his desk writing. While it was a dangerous stunt indeed, the sight of Master Jenkins sitting at his desk with salt piled up to his neck, was laughed about for many months. Which was just about the same amount of time he and Timmy had to sweep and mop the floors of the curing house as punishment for their prank.
It was one of these little incidents that was to have a most profound effect upon the young dwarfes life. Once again it was he and Timmy playing down by the docks, climbing about the rigging of one of the smaller boats docked there. One of the deck hands scolded them for being in the rigging. He told them if they didnt get down he'd come up, get them and throw them into the 'brig' below decks. So down they came, and when no one was watching, slipped below to check out this 'brig'. They searched from stem to stern but could find no 'brig', but they did find many other interesting things. One of which was a small wheel jutting out of the floor, about the size of a dinner plate. They could see no chains or ropes attached and no clue as to what it was for. So out of their childish curiousity, they tried to turn it. It would not move until they both, with all their young strength, turned it together. Once, they got it turning it moved easily, and then they realized what it was...it was the bilge drain, used when the ship is in drydock to remove the water that accumulates below decks!
They looked at each other, eyes wide in terror, realizing what they had just done. They franticaly tried to spin the wheel back into place, but couldnt get it to move, for now it was not a bit of rust making the wheel hard to turn, but the rush of water at high pressure, they had not the strength to stop. Soon the water lapped at their ankles, and panic set in, they ran up on deck, and down the gangplank as if demons were on their tails. They didnt stop running until they reached their respective homes, and said not a word of what had taken place to anyone. The same deck hand who had scolded them earlier, saw them run off but only chuckled to himself, having not a clue to the mischief playing out below his feet.
A little while later, from the window in his room, he heard the shouts and yells from down on the docks, it sounded as if the whole village was there, but he could not bring himself to return to the scene. It was too bad Timmy didnt have that same sense, for it was when he returned to the docks to see the commotion they had caused, he was spotted and apprehended by that very same deckhand. Under the penetrating glare of the village elders he confessed his part in the sinking of the boat, and named his partner. From his window, Jax could see his father and several elders coming home and he knew he was in for rough seas.
It took a week to raise the boat, Timmy and Jax were made to help in its recovery. Oh how they were made to help....if there was a dirty or miserable job to be had during the recovery, Tim & Jax were on it. And in the evenings at home, Jax seemed to have more chores to do than he could ever remember. Between work and sleep, Jax had no more time to get in trouble.
On the fifth day after the raising of the boat, Jax and his father received a visit from the Captain of the 'Merry Raven', a small cargo hauling vessel, recently docked at their village. He was invited to stay for dinner, and while Jax cleaned up afterwards, Captain Brooks and Jax' father carried on a rather long & animated discussion, with an occasional glance or pointed finger in his direction. When the dinner chores were done, Jax joined the two in the sitting room, and learned what his future was to hold. You see, Willem & Capt Brooks had been talking before this eve, and an agreement had been come to regarding the young Dwarf. Jax was to become the Captains cabin boy aboard the 'Merry Raven' thus removing him from the temptations so available in this village. While at sea, the Captain had promised to teach the young dwarf a trade, and treat him as he would his own son, had he had one.
continued... |
After my 'tour of duty' in Vietnam, I truly learned what the following phrase means...."I'd rather be 'Lucky' than good...." |
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Re: Jax Arwylde...the Tales of an Old Wharf Rat (Long)
Posted: 03 Jun 2004 11:50 AM |
As you can see from part one, the Lad was a handful for his father. I will now resume the telling of the tale...
Part 2
After the captain went back to his boat, Jax argued long and hard with his father for a commutation of his sentence, but it was not to be. Willem helped the Lad pack a small bag with a few changes of clothes, as the captain had said little else would be needed. During this time he explained his reasons for sending Jax to sea and while they made sense to his ears, Jax' heart felt otherwise. That was the longest night of Jax' life, or so it seemed. He did not sleep easily, as the fears for what was to come in the morning, compounded themselves into a horrible fate, ending in a lonely death, in some faraway port.
Willem shook Jax out of his sleep just before dawn. The smell of salt pork and biscuits wafted thru the cabin and set Jax belly to grumbling. They ate their breakfast in silence, as it was a hard morning for the Arwyldes and Jax knew he had no arguments that would or could change his fathers decision. They cleaned up after breakfast as stoicly as they had eaten it and then it was time to leave. The walk down to the docks was as silent as the breakfast but for the barking of the dogs and the honking of the geese as they passed.
At the dockside, the crew of the 'Merry Raven' was fast preparing the ship for sailing with the morning tide, Captain Brooks stood on the fantail and waved at the two dwarves as they approached. Willem turned to his son upon reaching the gangplank, and spoke softly to him, encouraging him to look upon this coming part of his life as an opportunity and not as a punishment. Tears welled in Jax eyes and a sob escaped his lips as he looked upon his father, for what he thought would be the last time. This brought a tear to his fathers eye as he crushed the boy in his arms in a hug that startled Jax. They hugged for what seemed an eternity, and Jax did not want the hug to end, for their was love in that strength, the likes of which he had never known with his father. Then it was over, and Willem turned the young dwarf to the gangplank and with the slightest of nudges, sent him on to his fate.
At the top of the gangplank he was met by the boats first mate, Herk was his name, a gruff man of 50 or so years, who bade him welcome. In a voice strong with the air of command he directed Jax to follow him to his quarters. Jax turned to wave goodbye to his father who returned the wave then turned his back and started off for the shop. Now when I say quarters, I am using the term loosely, for Jax' quarters were actually a pantry just outside the captains cabin, used to store dry goods and supplies.
Jax bed was to be a hammock slung between the door and the bulkhead his dresser was a small box with a lid. There was a place on the wall where a lantern could be hung. Next to it was a small bell attached to a cord that disappeared into the bulkhead, Jax was instructed that when this bell rang, he was to immediately run to the captain's cabin and be of service as required. Herk explained that as the ships cabin boy it was his responsability to be at the captains beck and call, to do whatever the captain asked of him, at any time. He was advised that failure to do so would result in 'disciplinary' actions, from the tone of Herk's voice it was obvious to Jax that he did not want to learn what they were. With that Herk left the lad to sort out his belongings and instructed him to report back to him as soon as he was finished.
And so began Jax life as a sailor, one he eventually grew to love. He spent next five years as the ships cabin boy, but learned all aspects of sailing during that time. He eventually became the assistant to Mac, the ships cook and surgeon. Now Mac took a liking to Jax straight away, and kept the lad well fed & looked after. Teaching him how to read & cook, as well as tend to the injuries of the crew. Jax grew to love his shipmates as brothers and the captain as a father, but still his thoughts would often return to his home and the old dwarf sitting beside the fireplace.
They would visit Jax' village about once a year. Jax would invite Mac to his home to stay while in port. His visits with his father were loving affairs, with the two of them swapping stories of what had happened since they last saw each other. Willem had been made foreman at the shop and had a team of four working under him, as the fortunes of the village grew. Jax would still get a tear in his eye, as he waved goodbye to his father on the dock as the 'Merry Raven' slipped out to sea. Always wondering if he'd ever see the old dwarf again.
For twenty years Jax sailed aboard the 'Merry Raven', many a storm was weathered and adventure survived ,until that fateful day they anchored off the mouth of the Great River to replenished their fresh water supplies. All went well that day, the boats and their water barrels dispatched upriver to where the water ran cool and fresh with no taint of salt. They returned without incident as well, however, a heavy fog had rolled in while they unloaded the water and secured the boats. The captain decided to wait until morning before weighing anchor, rather than face the dangerous shoals and currents at night in the fog. This decision was to prove disastrous for the captain & crew of the 'Merry Raven'.
Under cover of the fog and night, a pair of longboats full of river pirates, stole up, unseen to the side of the 'Merry Raven'. In an instant the decks of the boat were awash in the blood of the night watch, and only the quick thinking of Herk saved the ship from being captured. For his last act, before an arrow pierced his heart, was to ring the ships bell in alarm, waking the crew before the pirates could throttle them in their sleep.
The battle for the 'Merry Raven' seemed to occur in a matter of moments, but actually took about a half hour to be decided. With the battle for control of the fantail being especially ferocious. It was on the fantail that Jax found himself fighting beside Captain Brooks, Mac and about ten others of the crew. During this part of the battle, Jax was struck by a blow to the head that knocked him unconcious and ended his part and awareness of the fight. However, the fates were kind to the crew of this besieged ship, and the crew fighting heroicly won the day, but the toll for their victory would be heavy.
Morning came to Jax with a slow realization that he was wounded. The right side of his head was heavily bandaged and throbbing mercilessly. His vision with the unbandaged side of his head was none to clear, but as he propped himself up a bit he could see he was not alone. There were at least ten others lying alongside him in the main hold, all upon beds made of the wheat sacks they were hauling to Port Royale. Blood was everywhere and several of his mates moaned in their bloody beds. He thought he could see Mac tending to one a little bit away and tried to call out to him, but the only sound to come from his throat was a feeble croak. He lay back down and once more slipped into a sleep, punctuated with the nightmares of the battle weary.
When he next awoke, throat parched and dry, it was to a couple of men lifting him to a litter. He was carried topside and down the gangplank to be laid once again beside his wounded comrades, a couple of which were awake and talking quietly. He once again propped himself up despite the great pain throbbing in the right side of his head. He was greeted by his shipmates and he replied as best he could. It was night and he did not recognize where they were, to his query, one of the men tending the wounded replied, Port Royale. Soon Mac came to him and checked his bandages, all the while Jax was asking questions as to the fate of the ship and crew. "The ship was saved but at great cost", said Jax friend. Fully one quarter of the crew was dead with another quarter seriously wounded, with Jax being one of the latter. Jax asked of Captain Brooks, and found his answer in the pained look upon Mac's face. The captain was one of the former. With that, Jax lay back down upon his litter, the pain in his heart surpassing that in his head, soon tears rolled down his unbandaged cheek. He cryed until a merciful sleep once more claimed his conciousness.
The wounded were carried to the infirmary run by the Seven Sisters, where they were tended and healed as best as could be. After a few days there, Jax was pronounced fit to travel. With Mac at his side, they journeyed by oxcart to his home, and the loving care of his father. It was at home with his father by his side, that Mac let Jax know that he had lost his right eye when he was wounded in the battle. While the news of the seriousness of his wound stunned him somewhat, it could not match the loss he felt at the death of Captain Brooks, his surrogate father. After a few days care at home with both Mac and his father ministering to him. Jax was able to get up and walk about a bit. He was gaining strength daily and started wandering a farther distance about the village every day. Mac soon took his leave and returned to the ship, wishing Jax a speedy recovery as he left.
continued... |
After my 'tour of duty' in Vietnam, I truly learned what the following phrase means...."I'd rather be 'Lucky' than good...." |
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Re: Jax Arwylde...the tale of an old wharf rat (Long)
Posted: 03 Jun 2004 06:00 PM |
| (( Great story so far Daah. Glad to have learned a bit about Jax. Looking forward to reading more.)) |
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Re: Jax Arwylde...the tale of an old wharf rat (Long)
Posted: 03 Jun 2004 08:12 PM |
For the first time in 20 years Jax was once again a landlubber. And the tale continues...
Part 3
Jax recovery was rapid and thorough, probably due to his stout dwarven heritage & his fathers loving care. But for the scar & loss of his eye, one would be hard pressed to notice any permanent damage from his 20 years at sea. There was one wound that he would carry in his heart to the end of his days, the loss of Capt. Brooks. No manner of care that his father applied could heal that wound.
Willem & Jax, spent the next 15 years living together in their little cabin. Willem eventually bought the smithy from Old man Withers, and lived a comfortable life keeping the village in metal parts, and 10 of its citizens employed. Jax went on to become the village medic, releiving the citizens of the necessity of traveling to Buckshire or Port Royale, for normal everyday care. He could be found occasionally, standing at the end of the docks looking mournfully out to sea, but never expressed a desire to return. Not even the ever increasingly rare visits from his old mentor & shipmate Mac, could persuade him to return to the sea.
So it was, as the years rolled by, Jax attachment to the village of his birth grew stronger. In his daily ministrations to the hard working people of the village, the craftsmen & artisans especially, he recognized a spiritual motivation, a reason for being...a purpose. And he took to investigating his own spiritual roots, much to the delight of his father. He grew ever more kowledgeable of Vasteladorian and his place of honor in the lives of the villagers. One evening, about 15 years after his return, he spoke to his father of leaving again. Only this time it would not be by sea, but by land. He was to go in search of Vasteladorian, whom he called affectionately Vast'. Now he was not going to search for the person of Vast', but the spirit of Vast', where ever it might be found.
The day finally came to leave, and the entire village turned out to wish him well on his journey. He was bombarded with gifts of food and sweets, as well as the ever plentiful, advice. With a final farewell hug from his father and the usual sniffling back of tears he turned his back on his village, never knowing if he would see it, or the old dwarf again.
So began another 20 years of wandering. He searched out all the libraries, great & small that might have tomes or parchments relating to his 'God' Vast'. He would spend a few years here then a few there, always ministering to those in need. For awhile he stayed at a monastary devoted to Vast' and was accepted as an initiate. His studious nature served him well here and in a few short years he was invited into the priesthood. He talked with the head of the order and told him he could not accept the invitation without first receiving his fathers blessing. This condition was accepted without question and the order put in abeyance his ordination. He wrote his father, telling him of the offer he had received and sought his permission to accept.
Now as is the case in these lands, the inadequacies of the primitive postal system lost many posts between he and his father. It was this system which gave him no reason to worry, when he hadn't heard from his father in near a year. He wrote again and waited for a response. When the lack of an answer to his second letter approached a year, he began to worry, and prepared to start off for home. With the hope that all was well, the master of the order told him he need only call on him to administer his ordination, and he would come to wherever Jax chose to start his ministry.
It took him almost a year to make his way back to his village and even his worst fears could not prepare him for what he found. The entire village had been razed to the ground. All that stood was the weathered hulks of burned out buildings. Both his fathers shop and their cabin were piles of debris, with nary a clue as to what had happened here. He searched from the docks of Port Royale to the edges of the Kobai, and could find no hint nor word, regarding what had become of his village and its denizens. He prayed to Vast' daily, for guidance as to what course he should now follow. He wandered the lands aimlessly, caught between his desire to serve Vast' and his need to know the answers to the mystery of his village and his father.
This part of the story ends with Jax arrival at the Four Winds Inn. A mystery as to the fate of his village and the search for the spirit of his Vast' hard on his mind. It is here that he decided to make the achievement of his Priesthood final and settle down in his ministry. But his first order of business was to establish himself in the community as a member in good standing, and find a suitable location for the temple to be built. The mystery of his village would be resolved at Vast's discretion...
Continued......with you the reader, now playing your part in the story...
and so ends my part in this story, unless I wind up in the cups with that long winded dwarf again.......Daah Poppanon |
After my 'tour of duty' in Vietnam, I truly learned what the following phrase means...."I'd rather be 'Lucky' than good...." |
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Re: Jax Arwylde...the Tales of an Old Wharf Rat (Long)
Posted: 11 Jun 2004 01:08 AM |
There I was, sitting in the 'Dragon' pub of Midor, when in walks that cyclops of a dwarf with the never ending tales. Now Im in for it I thought to myself, as he headed straight my way..."Ahoy thar mate!", he says as he approaches, while he raises two fingers to the barkeep and points to my table. "Good Day to ye Jax..." I says, as he pulls up a chair and plops down after a brief struggle to get into a chair definately not designed to accomodate the dwarven race.
We talked of our daily trials and tribulations for awhile, as well as the current state of affairs regarding the recent spate of brigand attacks in and around Midor, downing a couple of pints in the process. Sometime during this discussion, I must have forgotten who I was talking to, and asked a question that had long been on my mind, regarding his unusual hairstyle. That was all the opening this old sea dog needed, and so began the tale of Jax' unusual hair style....
Jax and the Warriors Circle..... Part 1
This tale takes place about 15 years into his life at sea. He had been working with Mac, the ships cook & surgeon, for nigh on 10 years tending, to the wounds and ills of the officers and crew of the 'Merry Raven'. They had been exploring the uncharted seas north of the Undraeth Forests. They had sailed many leagues beyond any charts they had aboard, when they came to a chain of heavily forested islands, inhabited by a primitive (by our standards) warrior culture, long lost from the written histories of the known world.
The way they came to discover these warriors was simply a matter of chance but their surviving the encounter was in no small part (no pun intended) due to Jax' quick wit and iron fists. You see, the ship had stopped to replenish its fresh water and look for fresh fruits to replenish their dwindling stocks. One longboat filled with casks for gathering water and another with baskets for the gathering of fruit, were dispatched to a most promising island that had a beautiful waterfall cascading upon a long and wide beach bordered by a dense forest. While the water crew started filling their casks from a pool at the foot of the waterfall, Jax and the fruit crew took their baskets and following what looked to be an animal trail into the forest, set off to see if there were any fruits about.
They had treked for over an hour, with no sign of any fruit to be found, when all of a sudden the trail opened up to a clearing, and a sight not soon to be forgotten by any of its witnesses. In the center of the clearing was a circle of black glass stones (like those found around volcanoes)alternating with white stones, about 15 foot across, this circle was filled in with a white sand on one half and black sand on the other. Standing in the center were two men, wearing only their loincloths, who were pacing about and speaking to each other in an agitated manner. On opposite sides of the circle, sat two groups of men dressed somewhat differently, who responded with enthusiasm to the exortations of the man on their side of the circle. Now the band on the left were wearing what looked like a cured leather breastplates, while the ones to the right wore a breastplate of woven reeds. Both groups appeared to be armed with wooden staves or intricately carved clubs. The men on both sides, all wore their hair much as Jax does today with no hair on the sides, there were a few variations, one much like a horsehair helm or another one made of braids braided together as a rope along the top of their heads. . Nowhere to be seen was a weapon of stone or metal.
The crew had instinctively backed up into the cover of the forest, but could feel the tension being generated in the center of the field to their front, and were wary of what that was to portend. After a few minutes this animated discussion in the center abruptly came to an end and both groups of men rose almost as one, while the two in the center took up a stance in front of his opposite, as if in preparation to battle. And battle they did, but it was such a battle as to be unbelievable in our world. For the two in the center were taking turns punching the other as hard as possible, sometimes knocking their opponent to the ground, much to the enjoyment of his backers. This went on for the next half an hour. As the combatants tired the punches became less accurate and carried not the force of the earlier swings, until the champion of the woven reed side finally landed a blow the other could not rise from. This sent his companions into a frenzy of celebration whose end we would never see, for at that very moment, a blood curdling scream issued from amongst our company as Tink was bitten by a serpent, at least 15 rods long, that had silently slithered amongst us.
At the sound of the scream all eyes in the clearing turned to the source of the scream, including ours but the reactions were very different. The crew took to killing the serpent and Jax to ministering to the already swelling leg of Tink, while the previous objects of the crews attention, immediately upon realizing that there were strangers about lept into action themselves. At the command of the lone standing combatant, the two groups now acting as one, circled left and right. The crew of the 'Merry Raven' now found themselves with no line of retreat and outnumbered by 20 to 1. The warriors stood about weapons drawn and at the ready. apparently awaiting further instruction. The crew formed a circle about Jax as he tended the now passed out Tink and looked about at the fierce warriors encircling them.
Soon the circle about the crew parted and the lone combatant walked within the circle and started gesturing and speaking , once again in his animated tone, much as he had done before the fight. Upon hearing this, Jax stepped out from behind the crew to face the lone man, who upon seeing the dwarf, stepped back several paces with a look of astonishment across his face and words only half spoken on his lips. His followers did likewise and soon there was a murmering amongst the natives. It was obvious they had never seen a dwarf before and Jax was not going to lose this edge.
He quickly turned to his mates and said, "Listen hyere mates, Im about to try an' pull 'em away from ye's, if'n ye gits th' chance, I wants ye's t' run fer it, take Ol' Tink wi' ye. Tella Cap'n whuts up an' he'll figger whut t' do nex'.....Stumpy yer in charge..." At that Jax turned back to the lone combatant and preceded to berate him as only a dwarven sailor can. (I won't bore ye with all the details of this part of the story, because I would nae be able to do Jax justice, so use your imagination) As he was giving the native a piece of his dwarven mind, Jax started stripping off his clothes until he was in but his knicker undies. The native was still stunned by the verbal and visual assault the dwarf was providing when Jax started walking toward the sandy circle, as he did, the natives opened a path for him, not quite sure what to make of the strange vision in front of them.
When Jax got to the middle of the circle he turned around to see all eyes upon him, but they hadn't moved an inch from where he had left them. He glared at the assemblage in the best scowl he could create, squinting his eyes (he still had two at the time) to enhance the image, and burst out into the longest, foulest set of expletives many of these sailors had ever heard all the while pointing to the lone combatant and gesturing for him to get his arse into the circle. While the natives did not understand a word that Jax spoke, they surely understood the meaning. The lone combatant finally seemed to understand what Jax was trying to impart and smiled reluctantly as he started for the circle.
Soon the two were facing each other in the middle of the circle, Jax took up his stance and indicated for the other to commence the battle. His opponent nodded and obliged Jax with a punch that sent him rolling all the way to the edge of the circle. The natives murmered at the blow. Jax got up and laughed it off, but the others could see that he was shaken by the well delivered punch. Now it was Jax turn, and his first punch doubled up his opponent and took the wind out of his sails. The crew cheered. And so the battle went for another half hour, then forty-five minutes. With the respective observers cheering their combatant on.
Now with the heat of battle flowing thru their veins, neither Jax nor Stumpy remembered the plan and the fight continued and the crews escape was forgotten. At an hour into the fight, neither opponent could get up from being knocked down very quickly and the punches were but a shadow of their former power, but the fight continued since both returned to the center for the next blow. At the hour and fifteen mark, the native caught Jax just right, with a blow to the side of the head that even this dwarf could not withstand, Jax went limp like a rag doll and dropped like a rock, and the world around him went black in an instant.
When he came to some time later, he shook the cobwebs out of his head and looked about for his mates. They were no where to be seen and any attempts at communicating with the few natives still hanging about were met with blank stares. Jax tried to stand but found he was not able to retain his balance and had to sit back down. At this the natives laughed and passed him a liquid filled skin and indicated he should drink it.
Thinking that it was hardly likely they would poison him since they could have finished him whilst unconcious, he drank a sip from the skin. It was a very tasty drink at that,, much like that of a honey wine, or mead, liking what he tasted he next took a big long swig. The two natives closest to him watched him take the long draft from the skin, looked at each other then proceeded to laugh...and that was the last thing Jax heard as he slowly drifted into a drugged stupor, followed by the slow downward drift of his eyelids as he fell asleep.
to be continued..... |
After my 'tour of duty' in Vietnam, I truly learned what the following phrase means...."I'd rather be 'Lucky' than good...." |
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Re: Jax Arwylde...the Tales of an Old Wharf Rat (Long)
Posted: 11 Jun 2004 05:54 AM |
((Excellent stuff!
- Paul)) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
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"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
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<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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