Gathering Trinkets [March 3010] (Kyleria)
Apr 9, 2018 19:41:39 GMT -5
Post by Firiel on Apr 9, 2018 19:41:39 GMT -5
The trip back down south east to Minas Morgul wasn’t a difficult one. The dark lord had called for an influx of slaves and the corsairs had answered the call. Fíriel had taken the ship farther north than the other captains had dared to go thus far. Several small villages and ports marked the coast as they arrived in North Lindon. Few in those parts had even seen an Umbar raiding vessel. Lack of knowledge had certainly proved them with the means to fulfill the dark lord’s request. Soon their haul had been jam packed with living cargo.
Disembarking the lot of them only took a matter of moments. The goblins at the port didn’t take kindly to those that lingered about. Their new lives would be harsh, but Fíriel wasn’t bothered in the slightest as some of them begged for mercy or even death. This was the way live was in these times. The weak served the strong, and the Lord of Mordor was growing ever stronger. Even Fíriel knew that getting on the Lord’s good graces was a good thing. Orcs and goblins had the benefit of being his mindless soldiers, she on the other hand had a brain between her eyes. Fíriel wanted to rule the seas, perhaps serving the dark one would help that dream come possible.
Her mother had come to Minas Morgul some number of years ago. She’d left their village in search of Sauron’s other servants. Eyja had always been more of a witch than a raider. She’d tried to teach her daughter the ways of magic, but Fíriel always had an eye for swords and daggers. Part of her wanted to see the old woman, but another wanted nothing to do with the old crow. Fíriel knew she longed for the return of her sons, probably wished that she’d died place of one of them. Feelings like that weren’t the way her father taught her.
The pale city seemed to hang in the distance as they marched the forty souls closer to their new living destination. If what they could be going towards was considered living, at least they could be glad they weren’t slaughtered for meat for the foul orcs and other dark kin. The chains that connected them rattled as they marched ever closer. This was just a first steps towards Nurn. Fíriel never ventured past Minas Morgul, that would put her away from the ship for far too long and she did so miss the open waters. “They’re all yours.” She said to a hunched over goblin with longer white hair. The mess that was coming out of his mouth made her hate his kind just a little more. It was true that she didn’t bath all the time, but the black liquid that seem to just ooze out from between his lips as he chewed something was beyond disgusting. The sound he made from her statement seemed to please him greatly.
Her crew was safe in these parts, the banner of her ship was well known. They wouldn’t harass them too much, at least they shouldn’t as allies of the lord. The chain would of course be kept by the goblins, that was all well and fine. In the end she could just stop at another port and pick up some more. Mordor didn’t pay, but it was more an investment in the future.
Disembarking the lot of them only took a matter of moments. The goblins at the port didn’t take kindly to those that lingered about. Their new lives would be harsh, but Fíriel wasn’t bothered in the slightest as some of them begged for mercy or even death. This was the way live was in these times. The weak served the strong, and the Lord of Mordor was growing ever stronger. Even Fíriel knew that getting on the Lord’s good graces was a good thing. Orcs and goblins had the benefit of being his mindless soldiers, she on the other hand had a brain between her eyes. Fíriel wanted to rule the seas, perhaps serving the dark one would help that dream come possible.
Her mother had come to Minas Morgul some number of years ago. She’d left their village in search of Sauron’s other servants. Eyja had always been more of a witch than a raider. She’d tried to teach her daughter the ways of magic, but Fíriel always had an eye for swords and daggers. Part of her wanted to see the old woman, but another wanted nothing to do with the old crow. Fíriel knew she longed for the return of her sons, probably wished that she’d died place of one of them. Feelings like that weren’t the way her father taught her.
The pale city seemed to hang in the distance as they marched the forty souls closer to their new living destination. If what they could be going towards was considered living, at least they could be glad they weren’t slaughtered for meat for the foul orcs and other dark kin. The chains that connected them rattled as they marched ever closer. This was just a first steps towards Nurn. Fíriel never ventured past Minas Morgul, that would put her away from the ship for far too long and she did so miss the open waters. “They’re all yours.” She said to a hunched over goblin with longer white hair. The mess that was coming out of his mouth made her hate his kind just a little more. It was true that she didn’t bath all the time, but the black liquid that seem to just ooze out from between his lips as he chewed something was beyond disgusting. The sound he made from her statement seemed to please him greatly.
Her crew was safe in these parts, the banner of her ship was well known. They wouldn’t harass them too much, at least they shouldn’t as allies of the lord. The chain would of course be kept by the goblins, that was all well and fine. In the end she could just stop at another port and pick up some more. Mordor didn’t pay, but it was more an investment in the future.
