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Writer: Tiberius
Date Fri Sep 18 20:53:12 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Road West pt. 3
The following morning, Tiberius and Corren left the holding yard in a larger
wagon with four strangers. The dwarf was gone. So was the boy. Among the
newcomers was a half-elf who sat with his back against the boards and offered
neither name nor conversation. Tiber didn't ask.
The country changed as they traveled west. Barren earth gave way to scrub,
then scattered fields and stretches of low grass. Their captors grew more
cautious as the roads became busier. Twice, the wagon left the track entirely
while other travelers passed. Another time, a guard threw a rough canvas over
the prisoners and left them beneath it until the sound of horses had faded.
Tiber remembered each occasion.
By then, familiar sounds had begun to stand out whenever their captors spoke.
Some had acquired meaning through repetition. Others remained guesses. Corren
caught one before Tiber did.
"That one again."
Tiber looked toward him.
"They say it before we move."
"Maybe."
Corren frowned. "You've heard it too."
"I've heard the same sound."
"That's what I said."
"You decided what it means."
Corren gave him a long look, then returned his attention to the guards.
"Fine."
They heard it again before the next departure. Corren glanced sideways. Tiber
waited until the wagon began moving. "Now you can say it."
The faintest satisfaction touched Corren's face. Neither understood much.
Together, they understood more.
Their next stop came at an old mill beside a sluggish stream. Sacks were
unloaded from one wagon and transferred to another while two men argued
beside the wheelhouse. The prisoners remained shackled in the cart.
Corren counted beneath his breath. "Eight."
"Nine."
His brow furrowed. Tiber nodded toward a sack already resting beneath the
driver's bench. Corren found it, then gave him a sour look. "Show-off."
A quiet breath escaped Tiber's nose, nearly a laugh.
That night they were chained beneath yet another wagon. The others settled
around them, exhausted enough that conversation died quickly. Corren waited
until the guards had withdrawn toward their fire.
"You said you weren't looking for a way out."
"I wasn't."
"Still aren't?"
Tiber considered the question. "...Not yet."
Corren turned his head. "Then why All this? The guards, the carts, their words. Who carries what. You watch everything."
Tiber rested his head against the wheel. "I've worn chains before."
Corren was quiet for several seconds. "Where?"
"Tropica."
"You escaped?"
"Eventually."
"How?"
Tiber's eyes remained on the guards beyond the wagon. "Someone else found the opportunity first."
Corren seemed to consider that. "And this time?"
"This time, I'm waiting to learn where they're taking us."
"And then?"
"Then I'll know where they took us."
Corren stared at him through the darkness. "You always answer questions like that?"
Tiber's hand shifted unconsciously toward the empty place along his sash.
"Recently."
Corren didn't understand the answer. That was probably for the best.
The next morning brought cooler air. By afternoon, gulls had replaced the
desert birds, their pale forms riding the coastal drafts far inland.
Tiberius followed one until it disappeared toward the west. When he
looked back, Corren was watching them too.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Sun Sep 20 12:11:05 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: Passage pt. 1
By evening, Tiberius could smell the sea.
Salt carried inland on the wind, mingling with damp earth and the lingering
dust of the road. The gulls had multiplied as the day wore on, and the land
itself had begun to change. Low hills broke the country ahead, their seaward
faces thick with scrub bent beneath years of coastal weather.
Corren noticed him testing the air. "Close?"
"Getting closer."
"You've done this before."
Tiber glanced toward him. "Smelled the sea?"
"You know what I mean."
A faint trace of amusement crossed Tiber's features. "I've sailed."
Corren seemed about to ask more, but the wagon turned sharply and gave him
something else to consider.
The road ahead had widened over the past several miles. Stone walls divided
cultivated fields, carts appeared with greater frequency, and smoke rose
beyond a cluster of distant roofs. For the first time in days, they were
approaching country where travelers might reasonably notice a wagon full of
chained prisoners.
Their captors wanted none of it.
At the next fork they abandoned the road entirely, taking a narrow track
between two low hills. One rider went ahead while another remained behind,
repeatedly checking the way they'd come. Conversation diminished. Even the
driver seemed reluctant to let the wheels make more noise than necessary.
Tiber watched the precautions with growing interest. They weren't merely
avoiding a town - they were avoiding being seen anywhere even near it.
Close to sunset, the wagon stopped beneath a stand of wind-bent trees. The
prisoners were ordered down, given water, then linked together by a longer
chain. Their ankle shackles remained.
After that, they waited. Darkness had fully settled before the guards moved
them again.
The path descended toward the coast on foot. Loose stone shifted beneath
their boots, and the steady break of waves grew louder with every turn.
Tiber could occasionally glimpse moonlight upon the water through gaps in
the hills, but his attention remained on the path ahead and the men leading
them.
When the descent finally opened onto the shore, he understood the secrecy:
There was no harbor.
No lantern-lined quay, customs house, or cluster of warehouses stood along
the water. Instead, a narrow inlet cut between arms of dark rock, sheltered
from the open ocean and largely concealed from the surrounding country.
Several low buildings huddled beneath the cliff beside a rough timber
landing. Hooded lamps provided just enough light for the men waiting there
to work.
A longboat rocked alongside the pilings. Tiberius looked beyond it.
Farther out, a larger vessel rode at anchor. Its hull was difficult to
distinguish against the night, but its masts caught the moonlight as they
rose and fell gently with the swell.
Corren stopped beside him. "That's ours, then."
Tiber studied the men at the landing. One was already checking the longboat
while another spoke with the lead guard.
"Looks that way."
"You sound disappointed."
"I was hoping for a tavern."
Corren stared at him for a moment before something very nearly resembling a
smile appeared.
The chain pulled them onward.
As they descended the last stretch, Tiber counted the men waiting below and
noted where their weapons hung. He studied the longboat next: its size, the
number of oars, how many prisoners could be carried at once. Then his
attention returned to the ship offshore.
Whatever destination awaited them, this wasn't it.
Days of carts, ledgers, exchanges, and hidden roads had only delivered them
to another kind of road.
This one crossed the sea.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Sun Sep 20 12:15:10 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: Passage pt. 2
The prisoners were divided into two groups.
Tiberius and Corren went first, along with the silent half-elf and three
others. At the landing, the longer chain joining them was removed, though
the shackles remained at their wrists and ankles. One by one they were sent
down into the waiting longboat.
Tiber stepped carefully. A chained man could drown just as easily between a
boat and the pilings as he could in open water.
Corren lowered himself beside him. "Anything useful?"
Tiber tested the reach of his shackles. "Plenty. None of it helpful."
"That's becoming a habit."
"So is captivity."
The boatman called from the stern. Oars dipped, and the landing began to
recede.
The ship resolved itself from the darkness as they approached. She was broad
through the hull and sat low enough in the water to be carrying considerable
weight. Her sails had been furled for the night, and the few lanterns burning
above were positioned more for the crew than anyone watching from shore.
No colors flew from the mast.
The longboat came alongside and a rope ladder dropped from above.
Corren stared at it, then at his shackled ankles. "Thoughtful."
A sailor leaning over the rail laughed, though whether he'd understood or
merely appreciated Corren's expression was impossible to tell.
They went up one at a time. Tiber waited for the rise of the swell before
climbing. He had nearly cleared the rail when a hand closed around his
forearm.
It was large enough to nearly encircle it.
The half-ogre attached to it hauled Tiber the remaining distance aboard with
considerably less effort than he would have expected. The ogrekin stood a
head above most of the crew, with enough breadth through his shoulders to
make the difference seem greater. A heavy lash hung coiled from his belt.
"Much obliged."
The half-ogre looked down at him. "Move."
Corren came over the rail next, landing awkwardly enough that one knee struck
the deck. A nearby sailor caught him by the collar and gave him a shove
before he could regain his feet.
The half-ogre's arm intercepted the sailor. "He was already moving."
The sailor muttered something and withdrew his hand. No kindness followed.
The half-ogre caught Corren by the arm, hauled him upright, and directed him
away from the rail with a firm shove.
Someone farther aft called, "Branik!"
The half-ogre turned immediately.
A sailor gestured toward the longboat. "More coming."
Branik looked over the prisoners already aboard, counting them with a
practiced sweep of his eyes. "Get them forward."
Writer: Tiberius
Date Sun Sep 20 12:18:50 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: Passage pt. 3
Tiber and Corren were driven toward the mainmast while the others came aboard
behind them. Tiberius used the movement to study the ship. Humans made up
most of the crew, but not All of it. Their dress varied, as did their weapons.
Lines and tackle had been kept in good order, the deck worn by long use
rather than neglect.
Whatever else this vessel carried, she was no improvised slaver.
Corren settled beside him. "Friendly."
Tiber glanced toward Branik, who had already returned to the rail to receive
the next prisoner.
"Efficient."
"That's what I said."
Before Tiber could answer, something changed among the crew. Voices lowered.
A sailor stepped away from the passage leading beneath the sterncastle, while
another stopped what he was doing and straightened. Branik turned toward the
passage as well.
A dark elf emerged onto the deck.
No announcement accompanied him. None was necessary. Men who had barely
spared the prisoners a glance now watched him without appearing to do so.
Branik made room near the rail, though there was no deference in the gesture
beyond what rank required.
The dark elf surveyed the new arrivals before speaking briefly with one of
the sailors. Tiber couldn't make out the words - he didn't need them to
recognize command when he saw it:
This was the man who owned the deck beneath their feet.
His attention passed over the prisoners without lingering, then he turned
toward the men who had accompanied them from shore.
One carried a wooden case beneath his arm. He set it near the rail, while
another handed the dark elf a folded slip of parchment. A few quiet words
passed between them before the case was opened.
From beside the mainmast, Tiberius studied the contents. Coins, jewelry,
weapons, and other valuables lay within. Among them was something familiar:
his axe.
It had followed him west.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Sun Sep 20 12:29:28 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: Passage pt. 4
The wooden case was carried to a table beneath one of the sterncastle
lanterns. Another man joined the dark elf there with a ledger while the
prisoners were arranged along the mainmast.
Corren noticed where Tiber's attention had gone. "Found it?"
"Found some of it."
The dark elf worked through the contents without hurry. He lifted Tiber's
axe, tested its balance once, then laid it aside. Several smaller objects
followed, some familiar from the exchange on the road and many not.
Then came the dagger.
Only when the dark hilt emerged beneath the lantern did Tiberius realize how
intently he'd been watching for it. His hand shifted against the shackle.
Nothing.
The dark elf examined the weapon without drawing it. His thumb passed across
the fittings before he turned it over and studied the gem inlaid in the
pommel.
Tiber waited. Still nothing.
"That?" Corren murmured.
Tiber kept his focus on the table. "Yes."
"It's a dagger."
"Very observant."
Corren gave him a sideways look. "I'm learning."
That nearly earned a smile.
The dark elf said something to the man beside him. The ledger opened. After
a brief exchange, the other man nodded and returned the remaining possessions
to the case.
The dagger stayed on the table. Tiber's jaw tightened.
A commotion near the rail drew his attention. One of the newly arrived
prisoners had balked at being moved forward. A sailor seized the man's chain
and jerked him hard enough to bring him to his knees.
Branik crossed the deck. The prisoner swung first.
It was a poor decision.
Branik caught the man's wrist, twisted it behind his back, and drove him
facedown against the planks. When the prisoner continued struggling, the
half-ogre drew the lash from his belt. The first stroke silenced the
surrounding captives. The second ended the prisoner's resistance. Branik
raised his arm again.
"Enough."
The command wasn't loud. Branik stopped immediately.
The dark elf hadn't moved from the table. He regarded the prisoner for
another moment before turning to Branik. "Can he walk?"
Branik looked down. "Yes."
"Then I said enough."
The lash returned to Branik's belt. He hauled the prisoner upright and
shoved him toward the others. No apology followed, nor did anyone appear to
expect one.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Sun Sep 20 12:36:23 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: Passage pt. 5
Corren watched the exchange. "Efficient."
Tiber glanced at him. Corren's face remained perfectly serious. A faint huff
of amusement escaped Tiber before his gaze returned to the dark elf.
The man's clothing bore no insignia Tiber recognized, though its cut and
condition retained traces of something more formal. The same was true of the
ship. Orders were answered quickly, lines were kept properly, and men stepped
where they were expected before being told twice.
Whatever trade occupied the vessel now, its captain had learned command
somewhere else.
Corren leaned closer. "Captain?"
"I'd wager on it."
As though summoned by the word, Branik approached the dark elf.
"Captain Sarn."
The name settled another piece into place.
Branik made a quiet report, too low for Tiber to make out. Sarn listened
without interrupting, asked a single question, then nodded. Whatever answer
Branik gave was apparently sufficient. There was an ease to the exchange
that suggested neither man needed to establish his place with the other.
Branik departed to oversee the remaining prisoners while Sarn reached for
the dagger.
This time he drew it. Steel caught the lantern light as he inspected the
blade from hilt to point - nothing in his features betrayed recognition.
After a moment, he sheathed it again.
Instead of returning it to the case, Sarn slipped the dagger beneath his
belt.
Tiberius watched it disappear against Sarn's coat. Corren followed his eyes.
"Problem?"
"...Not yet."
Writer: Justian
Date Sun Sep 20 17:24:32 2026
Subject The Tree Made of Horn: Those Who Would Come
Justian had given the first blood alone. Guiding others to gather what
came next required a measured approach.
Waaaghs declaration carried the authority of a Chaos Lord. Justian could
repeat the command, name a place, and wait for hunters to gather. Such a
call might bring them to the Tree, but it would reveal little about why they
had come.
Chaos had not freed them from the order of the gods merely to place a
different chain around their throats.
Those who joined the hunt should do so knowingly. They did not need to
share Justians understanding of the Tree or speak the Verities as he did.
Malachives favor, Waaaghs command, the promise of violence, or curiosity
about what might awaken could each draw a willing hand. Justian did not
require one reason from them all. He required only that the reason truly
belonged to them.
The blood they gathered would belong to the work.
Justian prepared a message for those within Chaos and the Warp:
Waaagh has called upon us to feed the tree made of horn with blood carrying
potent energies. I have given what was mine to give. Now I intend to seek
more among the creatures dwelling within the wound left by the Red Moon.
Soon, I will travel to the ruins near Fort Ironclad. There we will hunt
what the Moon changed, gather the blood that remains, and carry it back to
the Warp. Come because Waaagh has called. Come for Malachive, for Chaos,
for the Tree, or for reasons you keep as your own. I ask only that you
understand the purpose before taking up the task. The blood is not the End.
It is strength gathered for the road toward it. Those who would come should
make themselves known.
He read the words once more before placing the message where those within
the Warp would find it.
There was no promise of reward within it. No claim that the Tree would
answer. Justian offered no blessing to those who joined and threatened no
judgment against those who did not.
He had refused to call another to bleed before accepting the wound himself.
Now he called.
The choice of who would come belonged to Chaos.
Writer: Serket
Date Mon Sep 21 23:45:22 2026
Subject Tribe is Tribe: The Found-ling.
As she smashed her tail into a blood-fall of liquid, she coated herself
into a blanket. What was white scale, turned red. She fumed.. Angry and
lost in emotion not of anyone's making. So, she would turn to a book. It
was a journal, if there ever was one. She took this knowledge back to the
start..
'I walked from aft deck to fore, keeping watch of our ship. Twas a glorious
ship, though I will never see it again. As with All guard shifts, I decided
it was time to take rest, and do what lively people do- which is to do very
little and get paid. '
'So I drifted down, below deck. There was hammocks of sleeping compatriots,
and people whom I cared little for. I crept deeper down, into the hold.
Down into the bilges even, I went, until it was but myself and a lute! Who
would question Michael, a deckhand aloof that played their lute on a double
duty? I had figured no one. Until... '
'Until I beheld something, as I was tuning my lute upon a barrel! From the
shadows.. There came a hooded visage. Serpentine, if there ever was a
face. I was quickly dumbfounded on this new stowaway, what was Michael to
do! I watched with blank face, as this serpent wrapped shortened tail about
my person and lute! '
'I shall tell of our fateful meeting now, in earnest. She could have
crushed ribs easily, or snapped my neck clean. It is not of a worry as I
write this, for I am well alive as I do. Instead, she spoke a word that I
dare think was the only word she knew that time.. '
'Play. '
'What was I to do, dare I ask? I never did ask, I was caught within a
coil-vice! Yet I stared on, with many questions, many for how they ended up
on the ship I was sworn to serve, but as to how this thing knew common! I
gulp, dare I write, and point to the lute now within scale-clutch and my own
frame! It had already begun to lose it's tune as she squeezed with her
figure. '
'PLAY! NOW. '
'I quickly did my best to free my instrument, after all- it was in a mortal
coil, as was I! Thankfully this lute of mine suffered no injury. I decided
to play a quick song of longing. One that I have felt matters more to my
soul instead of the hat I leave outside taverns and pubs that I frequent.
Perhaps she would like this? Dare we wonder.. I shall pen the lyrics
regardless. This is after all, a journal of mine, and I do what I want. '
'What a Gods-damned shame, I thought I had a pulse again.. It was where you
call my name- but I was upon dying breath! The skin wore off my bones... I
felt my soul at peace.. Can I just be alone again- a few more minutes
please? '
'I played this song quietly into the hold of my beloved home, wondering if
the scales about my figure would clench tight. She did not even hear the
chorus! But, alas.. I was to live. Live, and know the one known as
Serket, whom I named, a stowaway of the world. '
She read these words quietly, know knowing what they meant. She stills her
frame for a long moment, wrapped within her own safe coil-fort. This
journal was safe in her grasp. She would keep this to her heart always. A
token thing, to be sure. But Her Lord knew she would rid herself of all
things if asked.
'Imagine.. Dear readersss.. If they will.. What came next for mysself and
the one called Serket, ssstow-waway of the world. '
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:19:01 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 1
They sailed before dawn.
Tiberius knew it first by sound. Orders passed overhead, followed by boots
crossing the deck and the groan of timber under shifting weight. Somewhere
above, canvas snapped once, twice, then filled. The motion beneath him
changed soon after: no longer the gentle rise of a ship at anchor, but the
longer roll of a hull underway.
Nearly forty prisoners occupied the compartment with him. They had been
brought below in groups throughout the night, searched again, and chained
along two heavy beams fitted with iron rings. Some slept despite the cramped
quarters. Others had discovered that darkness provided little comfort when
shared with that many strangers. A child whimpered somewhere beyond Tiber's
sight until a woman quieted him.
Corren sat beside him with his back against the hull. "Still want the tavern?"
"More than before."
"Good. I was worried captivity had damaged your judgment."
Tiber shifted as the ship rolled beneath them. "Give it time."
Footsteps descended the companionway, and conversation diminished before
Branik appeared. The half-ogre carried a lantern in one hand while two
sailors followed with water and a basket of hard bread. He hooked the
lantern overhead, surveyed the rows, and pointed toward the prisoners
nearest him.
"First six. On your feet."
They exchanged uncertain looks. Branik uncoiled the lash just far enough
for its end to fall from his hand.
"Up."
That settled it. The six rose and shuffled forward as far as their chains
allowed to receive their rations.
Water was measured into cups, one prisoner at a time. Each drank beneath
Branik's supervision before surrendering the cup for the next. The portions
were meager, but measured evenly. When one man tried to drink twice, Branik
caught his wrist before the cup reached his mouth.
"You had yours."
The man released it. No blow followed.
Tiber watched the procedure until Branik noticed. "What?"
"Nothing."
Branik's expression suggested otherwise. "Then stop staring."
Tiber looked toward the water instead. "How often?"
Branik's brow lowered.
"Water."
"Twice."
"A day?"
Branik regarded him another moment. "Unless you make me regret answering."
"Understood."
Branik moved on. Corren waited until the half-ogre had reached the opposite
row. "You make friends everywhere you go?"
"Eventually."
"I'd hate to meet your enemies."
Tiber accepted the bread passed toward him. "Some of them were more pleasant."
Above them, the ship changed course. The hull leaned gradually before
settling onto its new heading, and loose chains slid across the boards.
The routine established itself quickly. Water came twice each day, food
with it. Prisoners were taken above in small groups to relieve themselves
and, when weather permitted, remain beneath the open sky for a short while.
Branik supervised most of these movements, assisted occasionally by other
sailors.
His rules were simple enough to learn. Move when ordered. Don't fight.
Don't steal another prisoner's ration. Don't touch the crew. Don't make him
repeat himself. Breaking those rules brought the lash. Following them
generally brought nothing at all.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:20:55 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 2
Tiber learned something else during those first days: there were far more
prisoners aboard than the ones chained beside him.
He heard them before he saw any. Voices carried through the timbers from
another compartment, accompanied at times by the scrape and clatter of
chains. During his second trip above, Tiber saw another group emerging from
a hatch farther forward. On the third, he counted more being returned below
as his own group waited.
He stopped trying to estimate the vessel's population from the forty around
him.
By the fourth morning, Tiber had learned the rhythm of the watches overhead,
which sailors regularly entered his compartment, and how long Branik
remained below during each inspection. He knew where the water was kept and
which hatches remained barred even when prisoners were brought above. He
listened to crewmen speak and continued collecting words where he could.
Corren did the same.
Neither spoke of escape.
That morning their group was brought onto the deck beneath a pale sky. Tiber
filled his lungs with cold salt air and surveyed the vessel properly.
Sailors moved through their duties with little wasted motion. Even with
scores of captives confined below, there was none of the disorder he might
have expected from men engaged in such a trade.
Corren followed his attention. "You've got that look again."
"What look?"
"The one where everyone becomes a number."
Tiber considered denying it, then glanced toward the quarterdeck. Sarn stood
there speaking with one of his officers. Branik waited near the prisoners
while the crew worked around them with the practiced indifference of men
accustomed to carrying human cargo.
"Not everyone."
The dagger remained at Sarn's belt. At least one thing aboard the ship
remained easy to keep track of.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:25:16 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 3
A sharp command from the quarterdeck made Tiber look up. One sailor
answered, then hurried toward the bow. Others followed without waiting to
be called.
Corren leaned closer. "What happened?"
"Don't know."
That, apparently, was unacceptable. "You're supposed to know everything."
"Give me another week."
A sailor climbed into the rigging while two more hauled upon a line below.
Tiber followed the captain's sightline and eventually found what had drawn
his attention: a dark bank of cloud lying low against the horizon.
It didn't look remarkable. Sarn evidently disagreed.
Another order carried across the deck. Men moved to the lines, and the easy
rhythm of their work quickened. Sail was shortened overhead before Branik
strode toward the quarterdeck.
"You want them below?"
Sarn glanced toward the prisoners. "Yes. All of them. Secure anything loose while you're there."
Branik nodded once and returned. "Up. We're going below."
One prisoner groaned. Branik ignored him and began unlocking the chain
securing them to the deck ring.
Tiber looked once more toward the clouds. "Storm?"
Branik glanced at him. "Weather."
"That bad?"
"Bad enough the captain doesn't want you rolling overboard."
Corren rose beside Tiber. "I'm touched by his concern."
Branik gave him a flat look. "You're expensive."
They were being led toward the hatch when the wind changed. The breeze
returned colder against Tiber's face, followed a moment later by the crack
of canvas overhead.
The crew was already prepared.
Tiber looked back toward the quarterdeck. Sarn had moved to the rail,
watching the approaching weather as the officer beside him said something
Tiber couldn't hear. Sarn answered without looking away from the sea, and
the man nodded and departed. No argument, no repeated command.
Branik tugged the prisoners' chain. "Move."
The weather reached them before the last group had been brought below. Rain
hammered the deck overhead. Boots pounded back and forth above them, with
shouted orders occasionally carrying through the timbers. The ship rolled
hard enough to throw several prisoners against their restraints.
Corren braced a foot against the beam. "Still want another week?"
Tiber grabbed the timber beside him when the hull rolled again.
"Ask me when we're alive."
The storm was gone within the hour. By the time Tiber was brought above
again, rainwater still covered the deck and the air felt noticeably cooler.
One sail had been reefed differently, but nothing appeared damaged. Sailors
were already returning ropes and equipment to their proper places.
Sarn stood at the quarterdeck rail, speaking quietly with the same officer
as before. Tiber had served beneath enough commanders - and sailed with
enough men - to recognize the difference between authority granted by title
and that maintained by competence.
Whatever else could be said of Captain Sarn, his men had reason to listen
when he spoke.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:30:15 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 4
Over the next few days, Tiberius began putting names to some of the faces
aboard.
Marek Talven was the officer he most often saw with Sarn. Grey had begun to
show at the weathered man's temples, and whenever he stopped to think, his
thumb tended to rub across one knuckle. Tiber finally caught his name when
someone in the rigging called down for him. When Sarn wasn't on deck, men
brought their questions to Talven and followed his answers.
Another was Pell, a young sailor whose duties seemed to carry him everywhere.
He hauled lines, carried messages, helped distribute rations, and complained
about each assignment with sufficient enthusiasm that Tiber began
recognizing his voice before his face.
"Pell hates buckets," Corren observed one afternoon. They sat with eight
other prisoners near the mainmast while the crew worked around them.
"I've noticed."
"And rope."
"Apparently."
"And someone named Derren."
Tiber glanced toward him. "Who is Derren?"
"No idea. But Pell hates him."
Tiber watched the young sailor struggle past with a coil of rope over one
shoulder. "Useful."
"I'm learning."
By the end of the first week, Corren had collected nearly as many names as
Tiber.
Branik had learned theirs, too.
"Caine."
Tiber looked up. The half-ogre stood over him with a length of chain in one
hand. "On your feet."
Tiber rose. "What did I do?"
"Nothing yet." Branik unlocked his ankle restraint, then Corren's.
"You two are carrying water."
Corren stared at the buckets waiting beside the hatch. "We've been promoted."
Branik handed him one. "Keep talking and I'll double your wages."
Under guard, they carried buckets from the cask to the compartments below
while Branik distributed the ration. The work continued until every row had
received its share, after which Branik sent them back up with the empty
buckets.
They emerged onto the deck near sunset. Talven stood near the bow supervising
a change of watch. Pell was arguing with another sailor over a coil of line,
lending considerable support to Corren's earlier assessment. Branik took the
buckets and dismissed the two prisoners with a jerk of his head toward the
others.
Tiber turned to go. Movement near the stern drew his eye.
Sarn stood alone beneath the quarterdeck, sheltered from the wind by the
rise of the sterncastle. The dagger was in his hand. He wasn't inspecting
the blade this time.
It remained sheathed, held loosely across one palm while the captain's
attention rested upon the gem set into its hilt. After several seconds, his
lips moved. The distance and wind carried away whatever he said.
Tiber slowed.
Sarn remained there a moment longer before slipping the dagger beneath his
belt and climbing the steps toward the quarterdeck.
"Caine."
Tiber looked around. Branik was waiting beside the hatch.
"Unless you've learned to sleep standing up, get below."
Tiber glanced once more toward Sarn. "Coming."
He followed the others down.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:34:41 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 5
Tiber saw nothing unusual from Sarn the following day.
The dagger remained at the captain's belt, and whatever had occupied him
beneath the quarterdeck went unexplained. Tiber watched when opportunity
allowed, but Sarn gave him nothing else to consider.
Life aboard continued.
By the second week, carrying water had become a regular duty for Tiber and
Corren. Branik didn't summon them every day, but often enough that other
prisoners had begun shifting aside when the pair were released from their
ankle restraints.
The work gave Tiber more of the ship than he had been permitted to see
before. He learned which passages connected the captive compartments, where
provisions were stored, and which doors remained locked even when Branik
passed through them. He also learned that carrying a full bucket down a
narrow companionway while the deck rolled beneath one's feet required
considerably more concentration than carrying one up empty.
Corren learned this somewhat later when a sudden roll sent him shoulder-first
into the bulkhead. Water sloshed over the rim and down the front of his
clothes. He stared at the bucket. Tiber kept walking.
"Not a word."
"I said nothing."
"You were going to."
"Then you've interrupted me unnecessarily."
Corren offered a few quiet words concerning Tiber's ancestry and followed.
Their guard that afternoon was Pell, who complained about the assignment
from the first bucket until Branik finally looked up.
"Pell."
The sailor stopped talking. Branik returned to measuring water. Tiber caught
Corren's glance and kept his expression neutral.
Later, on their way back toward the main compartment, shouting sounded from
above. Pell abandoned his complaints and hurried up the companionway. Branik
followed, taking Tiber and Corren with him rather than leave them unattended
below.
They emerged into the aftermath of an accident. A sailor lay near the
mainmast clutching his forearm, blood running between his fingers while two
others gathered around him. A block hung loose overhead, one length of
tackle trailing across the deck.
Talven arrived moments later. He looked first at the injured man, then
upward. "What happened?"
"The pin slipped."
Talven's eyes moved to the sailor who answered. "Slipped?"
The man hesitated. Talven crouched beside the fallen block and picked
something from the deck. A bent iron pin rested across his palm.
"It was cracked."
No one answered. Talven looked toward the rigging. "Who checked it?"
Pell had gone very still. Talven noticed. "Pell."
The young sailor swallowed. "Yesterday."
"And?"
"I thought it would hold."
Talven rose - his voice did not. "You thought."
Pell lowered his eyes.
"Get Harl to see to Joren's arm. Then replace every pin on that tackle and inspect the rest before supper."
"Yes, sir."
Talven handed him the bent iron. "Bring me anything you wouldn't trust with your own weight."
Pell nodded and helped the injured sailor to his feet. Branik started the
prisoners toward the hatch. Tiber looked back once - Talven was already
beneath the rigging, examining the next fitting himself.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Tue Sep 22 18:40:19 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: The Order of Things pt. 6
By the twelfth day, Tiberius no longer needed to count the bells to know when
water would come. He could tell by the footsteps overhead, by the changing
noise of the watches, and by Branik's habit of appearing shortly before the
prisoners began asking for him. Even Corren had stopped asking what Tiber was
listening to.
Their turn above came late that afternoon. The sea had settled since morning,
and a steady wind carried them beneath broken clouds. Every so often the sun
came through, leaving the deck warm beneath them. Tiber settled near the
mainmast while Corren stretched his legs beside him.
Pell passed carrying a wooden case beneath one arm. Corren watched him go.
"No complaints."
"Concerning?"
"Deeply."
Pell stopped without turning. "Still hear you."
Corren looked at Tiber and lowered his voice a notch. "They're All doing that now."
This time Tiber smiled.
Near the quarterdeck, Branik was speaking with Talven over an open ledger.
Tiber couldn't hear much of the exchange until Sarn descended the steps and
joined them.
"Problem?"
Talven tapped the page. "Three casks missing from the tally."
"Not from the prisoners," Branik stated. "I've counted what's opened myself."
Sarn looked toward him. "Enough until the next provisioning?"
"If I keep the ration where it is."
Talven glanced toward Branik. "I'd cut it until we know where the discrepancy came from."
"No need."
There was no challenge in it. Talven considered the answer, then nodded.
Sarn did the same. "Keep it where it is. Talven, check the cargo lists again."
"Already planned to."
Sarn's eyes settled on Branik. The half-ogre waited. "Then why did I bother coming down here?"
Something shifted at one corner of Branik's mouth. "You looked bored."
Talven suddenly found the ledger deserving of his full attention.
Sarn regarded Branik for another moment. "Find my missing water."
"Yes, Captain."
Branik departed without further ceremony.
Tiber had known officers to speak freely with commanders before, but Branik
wore no rank he could identify. Even so, Sarn had accepted his judgment
without demanding an explanation, and Branik had answered him with an ease
that spoke of long familiarity.
Corren leaned slightly toward him. "There... You've got the look again."
Tiber's eyes remained on Branik.
"I'm beginning to think you spend too much time watching me."
"There's very little else to do."
A bell sounded forward and men began changing places across the deck. Talven
closed his ledger and climbed toward the quarterdeck, while Sarn remained
below long enough to exchange a few words with Pell. Whatever he said sent
the young sailor hurrying toward the hold.
Soon afterward, Branik came for the prisoners.
That evening, Tiber realized how little aboard still required his attention
to understand. He knew when water would come and when the watches changed.
He recognized Pell's voice through two decks of timber, the scrape of
Branik's key before the half-ogre appeared, and which doors would open at
which hours. Corren slept beside him with his shoulder against the hull, no
longer the hollow-eyed stranger who had warned him into silence on a
Thalosian cart.
The ship had not become less of a prison. It had simply ceased to be unfamiliar.
Writer: Thasgerd
Date Wed Sep 23 18:42:48 2026
Subject Peace of Cake III
The feeling of being out his plate and wearing comfortable clothes and
boots was relaxing, or maybe it was because he washed whatever filth, blood,
someone or some thing's remains off him, or maybe it was both the bath and
fresh change of clothes? It didn't matter, Thasgerd just felt a little
better, and what really helped was the cup of coffee he had, being careful
not to spill any while he walked the outside wall of the Keep, strolling
slowly with a look of intense thought. He rounded the corner and was
heading towards the Observatory. Thas didn't look up as his arm and hand
reached out and grabbed a page who was about to test how badly they really
needed to practice their flight spell, "Nupe. " That's All Thasgerd said,
letting the page's collar gently go and continued the memorized path to the
classroom.
Three sips of coffee and a few passed knights and squires on night watch
later, Thasgerd was in the Observatory. He came to a large table where all
the books, scrolls, and writings that were available on Kadiya that he'd
brought up earlier were mingling from the rubbings of plaques and
inscriptions he'd taken from temples and gardens. He sat his coffee down
and pulled a chair out from the table. A squire in some light armor turned
around quickly from a shadowed bookcase in the classroom, clanking loudly
and looking startled. He screamed, Thas screamed, then the General caught
his breath and startled to laugh softly.
Thasgerd saluted the squire back before he noticed the half-smile that was
given after the squire's salute. He knew that kind of smile. He'd seen it
often, and even given it a time or two. "Wha's on ya's min'? "
The squire who still had some growing up to do looked a bit surprised at the
question coming from a general. He was pensive, he wasn't sure how to
answer that. He didn't want to answer wrong. Thasgerd gave him a warm
kindly smile, "Ya's nah gettin's in anaey trouble. Wha's goin' on? "
"Can I speak freely, Sir? " The squire asked, straightening up some.
Thasgerd nodded, encouraging him to continue. "It is my sister's birthday
and I am not there for it. " The look of real disappointment was trying to
stay hidden.
Thasgerd kept the conversation going, asking who was older, and finding out
the squire was, learning the siblings were close, that he told his sister he
wouldn't be there for her fourteenth birthday. All these inquiries were
genuine and Thasgerd took a sip of his coffee.
"Ta'e tha res' o' tha nigh' off, an' t'morrah. I cin finish ya's roun'. "
A couple blues were pulled out and given to the squire, "Ge' 'er so'ethin'
o' a cake, o' ge' 'er so'ethin' an' cake. " He paused in thought then added
to the list, "An' ice craem. Ya's 'ave t' 'ave ice craem wit' birt'day
cake. I's a law o' so'ethin'. "
The squire looked at the blue and nodded but seemed unsure. Thasgerd gave
him a look then subtly motioned to the door with his eyes and head and the
squire saluted and waited for Thasgerd's then he took off quickly, leaving
Thasgerd in quiet peace.
That was until the sounds of the men and women and squires could be cheering
in the distance. Sometimes Thasgerd heard Buttercup! They were cheering
for Buttercup. Thasgerd rubbed at his brow then chuckled softly seeing his
warhorse gently clopping into the classroom with a giant bag hanging from
her mouth. "[gOh 'eys! Ya's go's tha stuff. " He pulled out some various
food items, a few large cups of coffee, and a few plates of bacon. "Wha'
ya's ge's? " He asked while they both looked in the bag, and Thas saw a
couple giant muffins and a chocolate milkshake. He nodded and she nodded in
return, both seeming happy with what was gotten. Then a scream was heard.
One of those screams that is loud and gets quieter real quick.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Thu Sep 24 18:46:51 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: An Ordinary Illness pt. 1
The sick man attracted little attention.
Tiberius didn't know his name. He was chained along the opposite row, three
places beyond Corren and, until that morning, had distinguished himself only
by snoring loudly enough to earn complaints from both sides.
On the thirteenth morning, he passed his bread to the woman beside him.
Branik noticed. "Eat."
The man shook his head. "Not hungry."
"Wasn't asking."
The man stared at the bread for several seconds before tearing off a piece.
Corren watched him chew. "Compassionate."
Tiber looked more closely. The man's face appeared pale beneath several days
of grime, and sweat had gathered along his forehead though he'd barely moved.
"...He's sick."
Corren glanced across the compartment. "We're on a ship."
It was a fair point.
The man vomited before noon.
He managed to turn aside before most of it reached the prisoner beside him.
Branik arrived shortly afterward, swore at the mess, and ordered two sailors
to clean it while he crouched near the sick man.
"Fever?"
The man shrugged weakly - no answer. Branik pressed the back of one hand
against his forehead. "How long?"
"Since last night."
"Stomach?"
The man nodded.
"Anything else?"
"No."
Branik stood. "Drink when the water comes."
The man vomited again before it did.
This time Branik sent one of the sailors above. "Get Harl."
Tiber recognized the name. He'd heard Talven use it after Joren's accident.
Harl arrived carrying a worn leather case and the expression of a man whose
afternoon had just become less pleasant. Despite appearances, he examined
the prisoner with considerable patience, asking several questions while
Branik stood nearby.
"Keep water in him. If he starts bringing that back up too, find me."
Branik glanced toward the bread still sitting beside the man. "Food?"
"If he'll take it."
"I'm sure he will."
Harl looked at him. Branik's expression didn't change. "...I'm sure he will."
By evening, the man had kept down water and half his ration. Branik moved him
to the end of the row where there was slightly more room and left a bucket
nearby.
Tiber thought little of it. He'd seen men become sick aboard ships before.
Bad food, bad water, rough weather, too much drink - there were more ways for
a sailor's stomach to betray him than Tiber cared to count.
Most recovered.
Such things happened at sea. Men became sick.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Thu Sep 24 18:57:37 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: An Ordinary Illness pt. 2
The man was better in the morning.
Not well. He still looked pale and moved with the careful economy of someone
uncertain what his stomach might tolerate, but he ate without Branik's
encouragement and kept the food down.
Corren noticed. "Disappointing."
Tiber looked at him.
"I had him dead by breakfast."
"Remind me not to fall ill around you."
Corren chuckled. "You'd complain too much."
Branik arrived before Tiber could retort.
The morning ration proceeded normally until he reached a woman several
places down the opposite row. She accepted her water but pushed the bread
aside.
Branik looked at it, then at her. "Eat."
"Can't."
"Why?"
The woman pressed a hand against her stomach. "I feel sick."
Branik studied her for a moment before looking toward the man from the
previous day. "You talk to him?"
The woman shook her head.
"Sit near him?"
Another shake. Branik crouched and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Fever?"
"A little cold."
"Vomited?"
"No."
"Drink."
She lifted the cup, but didn't immediately obey. Branik waited.
Eventually, she drank.
Corren leaned closer after Branik moved on. "Two."
"One sick man and one woman with an upset stomach."
"That's two."
"That's arithmetic."
Corren gave him a sour look and settled against the hull. Tiber sat beside
him.
Their turn above came shortly before noon.
The weather had cleared, leaving the deck bright beneath a pale sun. Tiber
and Corren were given buckets and sent below with Branik, while Pell followed
carrying the cups.
On their second trip, they emerged to find Talven standing near the mainmast
speaking with Harl - whatever they were discussing didn't appear urgent.
Talven listened with his arms folded while Harl gestured once toward the
forward hatch.
"Two more with bad stomachs. One of ours, one below."
Talven's gaze shifted toward the hatch. "The same?"
"Looks it."
"How long?"
"Since morning."
"They eat anything different?"
Harl shook his head. "Nothing the rest of us didn't."
Talven rubbed his thumb across one knuckle. "Keep an eye on it."
"Already am."
Branik handed Tiber another bucket. "Move."
Tiber obeyed.
Corren waited until they were halfway down the companionway. "Four."
"Three."
"You heard him."
"One of them is crew. You were counting prisoners."
"I'm expanding the study."
Tiber shifted the bucket as the ship rolled beneath them. "Very scholarly."
When they returned to the compartment, the woman had curled onto her side
with her knees drawn slightly toward her chest.
Corren nodded across the row. "There. He's better too."
Tiber followed his gaze to the first man. He was sitting upright and eating
the remainder of his bread. "Apparently."
"Still four."
"You seem disappointed."
"I've started counting. I may as well see it through."
By evening, the woman had taken her water.
Writer: Tiberius
Date Thu Sep 24 19:08:10 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: An Ordinary Illness pt. 3
The following morning brought two more.
One was a young man chained near the forward end of Tiber's compartment. He
woke shivering despite the close air below deck and refused breakfast without
waiting for Branik to insist. The other, Tiberius never saw. He learned of her
when Harl came down shortly after the morning ration.
Harl stopped first beside the man who had fallen ill two days earlier.
"How's your stomach?"
"Better."
"Fever?"
The man shook his head.
Harl pressed a hand to his forehead anyway, asked whether he'd slept, then
moved to the woman from the previous day. Her stomach had settled. She'd kept
down her water. The chill had passed sometime during the night.
Corren watched him move on. "Good news."
"Seems so."
Harl stopped beside the shivering man.
The man described waking tired, then cold, then nauseated. Harl checked his
forehead and eyes. "Vomited?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Before dawn."
"Any pain?"
The man indicated his stomach.
Nothing about the examination appeared remarkable. Harl told him to drink,
eat what he could, and call for someone if the vomiting worsened.
Then he remained crouched there. "Anyone beside you feeling poorly?"
The prisoners on either side shook their heads. Harl stood.
Corren's shoulder shifted against Tiber's. "Six."
Tiber kept his eyes on Harl. "At least."
Harl worked his way through the compartment: Had anyone vomited during the
night? Fever? Chills? Had anyone stopped eating? Most answered no. One woman
admitted to a headache. Another man said he'd felt sick the previous evening
but was fine now. Harl lingered with each before continuing.
When he reached the end of the row, Branik was waiting near the companionway.
"Anything?"
"Maybe."
Branik glanced toward the shivering prisoner. "Yesterday you said stomachs."
"Yesterday I had stomachs."
"And today?"
Harl looked back across the compartment. "Today I have questions."
"Useful ones?"
"I'll tell you when I have answers."
He climbed the companionway. Branik watched him disappear, then returned to
the morning routine.
The ship did the same.
Sails shifted overhead. Bells marked the watches. Pell complained loudly
enough about some new injustice that his voice carried through the deck.
Water came when Tiber expected it.
Only Harl behaved differently.
Tiber saw him twice more before evening: once crossing the deck toward the
crew quarters, and later descending through the forward hatch. The second
time, Branik went with him.
They returned nearly half an hour later. Harl stopped at the foot of the
companionway. "Anyone sick in the other hold?"
Branik shook his head. "Don't know."
Harl looked toward the hatch. "Find out."
Writer: Tiberius
Date Fri Sep 25 17:25:55 2026
Subject The Long Road Home: More Than One pt. 1
By morning, Branik had his answer.
Tiber and Corren were among the prisoners brought above after the morning
ration. They sat near the mainmast while Branik joined Harl and Talven a
short distance away.
"Six more."
"Where?"
"Two in the other hold. One in the smaller compartment aft. Three crew."
"That makes eleven."
"Two of yours are better."
""Better" isn't "well.""
Talven rubbed his thumb across one knuckle. "Same symptoms?"
"Mostly. Fever in eight. Stomach trouble in seven. Chills in five. A few
headaches. Nothing I haven't seen aboard a ship before."
"Except?"
Harl looked toward the forward hatch. "I'm seeing it in three compartments
and among the crew at the same time."
Talven's hand stopped.
A sailor appeared from the companionway and caught Harl's attention. After a
brief exchange, Harl looked back toward the others. "Make that twelve."
Corren leaned his head against the mast. "I preferred three."
Tiber couldn't disagree.
Talven sent for Sarn. The captain arrived several minutes later, the dagger
still beneath his belt. His gaze passed from Talven to Harl, then Branik.
"What have we got?"
Harl gave him the numbers and symptoms.
Sarn listened without interrupting. "Food?"
"Unlikely. They're not All eating from the same stores."
"Water?"
Branik answered. "Everyone drinks from the same casks."
"Any spoiled?"
"Not that I've found."
Sarn's gaze settled on him. "And the missing three?"
Branik met his gaze and set his jaw. "Still missing."
Harl looked between them. "Missing what?"
"Water," Talven answered. "Three casks absent from the tally."
"Since when?"
"We're still working that out."
Harl was quiet for a moment. "Then keep track of every cask you open. I |
