Stoneweaver

Stoneweaver - Chapter 1

Stepping from the ship it took a moment to adjust to the different swaying of Melmyrn, a deeper, slower, movement, individual to each floating settlement. Kreddick barely missed a step though, as he ascended the slight slope from the dockside. The walls to the side vented a steady stream of water as the rain fell with unrelenting determination.

He offered a deepening smirk to the guards at the top of the ramp, which deepened their frowns. Guards may be a bit of a stretch, as they primarily served as enforcers for Thortus' will. The city was officially a commune, like the others, but few still remained such, most having been taken over by men like Thortus, who'd seized power from the previous tyrant. No official government existed, but he ruled by dint of his enforcers happening to anyone who disagreed with him, or didn't agree quickly enough.

Those standing guard, the bottom rung of his organization, would be here more to report anything of interest than to maintain the peace, and Kreddick didn't doubt he'd be included in such a report, so there'd be no point in trying to avoid them.

Dressed in blacks and greys which seemed somehow sharper against the array of duller, worn, colours on the dock, he stood of just above average height, but with a stocky build, and the impression of being well-muscled. His head was bald, without even a hint of hair, and his curved nose sat prominently above his frequent smirk.

The three guards had now uniform, apart from the rough livery of their role, a black armband with a crest that seemed to be of some bird he didn't recognise. They didn't appear happy with their job, and it probably wouldn't take much to set them off.

"Morning," Kreddick said in a friendly tone.

After an initial response of heavy stares, the apparent leader, with short cut brown hair, and a seemingly permanent sneer, responded in a less-than-friendly tone. "Who're you, and what're you doing here?"

"Kreddick," he replied in a cheery tone, his eyes almost mocking the man. "I've come to enjoy the hospitable atmosphere of your lovely city." He punctuated it with a wide smile. "And you are?"

"The welcoming committee," the thug said in a slow growl. "Welcome, and try not to leave too much of a mess when you get beaten to death."

"I'll do my best," Kreddick assured him cheerily. "So where can a man find a decent place to stay around here?" He glanced around the surrounding single storey buildings, a couple of likely places obvious, but he'd want somewhere nearer the centre of the city. Ensuring as he moved that the pouch at his belt gave a slight shake, the rattling within clearly identifiable as gemstones, he kept glancing around until the man's attention had returned to his face.

The thug's sneer receded a touch, a cold appraising look taking its place. "Depends what you can afford."

"Oh, I can probably manage a few irons a night."

"Then the Haunted Atoll, in the merchants district, is probably the best you can find." He turned to point along one of the streets, giving directions.

"Much obliged," Kreddick said with a grin, nodding as he moved on.

He didn't glance back, but it didn't take long to spot the 'guard' following him, and he made sure to not go too fast as he made his way towards the inn.