#gilgapaka

Khaadeehava, Lahira Marina.  It was a brisk harvest morning - not cold, mind you, but still…there was a certain extra salty sea breeze in the air that morning. I started my day like every other morning since I turned fifteen: wake up, get dressed, hit up my favorite food stand for two dosas with coconut chutney for breakfast, and head down to the docks for work.  I should have known from the start that today was going to be different though when I had to hear those six awful words: “sorry, we’re all out of coconut.”  Too lazy at that point in the morning to look elsewhere for breakfast but also too foolish to ask for my other options, I told them to surprise me – a mistake indeed, as I found out after my first bite.

Ginger chutney.  Ugh.

Already disappointed with how my day was going, I discarded my breakfast to a large flock of gulls then quickly finger-combed my hair before jogging the rest of the way to the boardwalk in an effort to warm myself up more. Ghaan may not get snow like some of the places Papa had told me about, but it still gets bitter cold late in the year: it was only one of the first few days of the month of Muu, and already the fog that would roll in with the ships would bring a settling of frost on anything it touched.

As I reached the fog-riddled Lahira Marina, my primary senses – being trained to switch over from sight to sound – focused through the blindness, taking in the rhythmic lapping of waves, plaintive crying of seabirds, muffled creaking of wet wooden boards, and occasional thumping of mooring ropes as swaying ships bumped up against them in the shipyard. From memory, I find my way through the icy mist to the old docker, Telfar.  “Is a’ you, Ka’lya?” the portly middle-aged human called out in my direction.

“As per usual, Telfar,” I replied, following the barely visible light of his hooded lantern. “By the way,” I add, slowing my jog to a walk, “you can just call me Ka’l, seriously.”

“Sure, sure,” was his mumbled response, as always.  He stood there, stroking just the right side of his brown and grey mutton chops as he peered out into the harbor. “Got some big loads comin’ in today, mostly from Dawnwilde: salt, ore, that sort of thing. Couple merchants due to arrive today from Hjarta, too – lumber shipment, I think…  Gonna be a busy day for us both, I dare say,” he ruminated aloud.

Just as he said that, the toll of a ship’s bell rang out into the chilly haze, announcing the arrival of our first customers of the day.  Without a word required, we both sprang into action, making ready for the sea vessel to come into port. Telpar bellowed questions and instructions to the ship’s deck officer while I ran out extra mooring and made ready to receive the tossed ropes from the ship itself.  I could see my breath as I heard the ship drop anchor, slowing itself as it calculated its berthing to enter the yard.

Once docked, Telfar would discuss import and export details with the ship’s captain while I would usually board the vessel and coordinate what needed loaded or unloaded with the crew, pitching in with the manual labor. It was amazing, the types of stories these sailors would share with me as we moved cargo – tales of gigantic sea creatures, dangerous sea storms, and merciless pirates. I would always listen with rapt attention and sincere awe, wondering what it would be like to sail the high seas.

The morning pressed on, and the fog eventually dissipated. More and more merchants began pulling in and out of the marina, pushing us to hustle with each new arrival.  By that point, the docks were loud with the jumbled voices of seamen talking amongst themselves or conducting business with one another: many would operate right from their own gangplanks, haggling for surplus merchandise or making trades while others could be seen negotiating passenger rates for those looking to travel.  Opportunistic food vendors would wander down from the Central Bazaar to roast meats on spits in an effort to lure hungry mouths craving the enjoyment of a hot, cooked meal.  Exotic spices and other pleasant aromas filled the air as small puffs of dried herbs and other seasonings sifted naturally from the burlap bags we tossed from the holds of large boats.  Young girls squealed as they hung off of the arms of sailors, both parties enjoying the brief reprieve ashore.  The marina was its very own little slice of the Upper Planes, and getting to experience the daily wonders was – in and of itself – a reward of its own.  Still though, a girl’s got to make a living, and to do so meant rarely getting to stop to enjoy the thrills of the bustling coast.

By noon, a lull had finally graced us with a break in action. The sun glistened and glinted off of the beautiful waves that splashed against the beach as I walked, barefoot, on the sand, staring out into the wide, cerulean expanse of the Turquoise Waves. My mind wandered for a moment or more before Telfar interrupted my contemplations – “Ka’lya! Ka’lya!  I need your swift feet!" I slipped back into my shoes, the insides now scratchy with gritty sand, as I hurried back up to him along the dock.  He was in his usual cheerful mood (he always enjoyed rubbing elbows with ship captains, always claiming that “it never hurt to have a seaman remember your name for a good reason). Standing next to him was a pair of well-dressed men, one of which looked to be of halfling or gnomish descent, the other a smarmy-looking human.

"The captain of the Humble Hermit has an ink shipment for the Painted Lady - I need you to run down to the parlor and fetch her signature: his boys will wheel her crates over straight away: they need to shove off within the hour, and we both know you'll be there and back to us before they finish pulling it off the ship, heh heh," he chortled with residual laughter from whatever had the two of them cracking up moments ago. “Also –” he commented more professionally as he handed me a sealed letter stamped with some reddish-brown wax, “– if you could drop this off to her as well, this gentleman would be most appreciative."  The shorter man made brief eye contact with me before giving me a nod and then returning to his conversation with Telfar.

Seeing this as an opportunity to grab some lunch and perhaps make a little extra coin by way of a tip, I took the letter and headed off towards the Painted Lady, our boardwalk’s popular tattoo parlor. As I sprinted along the busy walkway, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I was being watched, followed, something.  When I reached the parlor, I made small talk with Nexus, the tiefling woman who ran the shop, before explaining that her shipment was on its way and delivering the special mail. She took the letter, opened it, shook her head, and smiled weakly. “Oh, Darja…thank you for, um, dropping off the note, Ka’l…here, tell him I am fine and give him my regards.” Nexus said as she absent-mindedly signed off on the invoice parchment, drawing a quick but masterful sketch of a sailing ship at the bottom of the document before returning it to me and flipping me a copper piece. “Enjoy what’s left of the nice weather!”

I took back off into the crowd, pressing my way to a food stand to grab a bite to eat (courtesy of Nexus), then hurriedly returned to Telfar and the man who apparently wrote the letter. "Ahoy!" Telfar hollered toward me as I jogged, "I told ya, didn't I?  It’s like she’s got wings, she’s so fast." I felt myself blush at the compliment but appreciated it all the same.  "Come, come, give the captain his papers," he said as he straightened up, beaming with pride.

The man’s eyes were dancing with hope more than expectation as he asked me, “"Did she give you anything? A letter or something maybe?”  Knowing it likely wasn’t as much as he wanted, I handed him the signed document – he unrolled it with initial excitement then sniffed the spot where she had signed with bizarre reverence before giving the air a hard sniff, holding his head up high, and pocketing the parchment.  I felt my face attempt to hide a contorted look of confusion as he turned to address us: Mr. Telfar, this longshoreman of yours, I simply must have her as part of my crew – not only is she fast, but she’s a welcome sight for sore eyes such as myself and my sailors…” His eyes settled on my own as he continued, “It wouldn’t be much for starters, just a midshipman position to replace one of my former members who was recently carried off by a harp—errrr, seems to have abandoned ship…so, what say you?”

I couldn’t believe my ears: this was all I’d ever wanted, all I had ever dreamed about doing with Papa – a chance to sail? How could I turn down such an opening? Perhaps gaining some experience at sea would afford me an opportunity to go with Papa on his next voyage the next time he returned home? But what would Mama, Jida, and Jido do without me in the meantime for the much-needed income? My mind raced with indecision and – as though he read it – the merchant sweetened the pot: “Do you think you’d be up for making some coin for a ten-day tour aboard the Golden Afternoon? I’d pay you five copper a day, not a coin less.”

Quickly doing the math in my head, I calculated the profit: working with Telfar, I was making a mere two copper a day, plus a tip if I was lucky – that worked out to a modest two silver pieces by the end of a ten-day.  If I did the tour, I’d make over double that in the two weeks I’d be at sea; and I’d be living out my biggest dream as a bonus.  Still, my conscience weighed heavy. “I’m…I’m very interested, but I’d…uh…like to think about it…I mean, if that’s alright,” I said as my voice trailed off in tongue-tied gratefulness and hesitancy. While Telfar looked relieved at this, the captain looked disappointed.

I opened my mouth to break the awkward silence when a hand gently but firmly settled on my shoulder – turning my head to see who was there, I saw Vormesius, the elderly green dragonborn who owned the jeweler’s shop on the boardwalk. “What do I overhear about you going on an adventure, Miss Ka’lya?” wheezed the old man, his jaw slack between words. I again attempted to speak but felt the grip tighten on my shoulder as he continued, “you know, I bet that would really make your folks proud, them having another seafarer in the family – maybe you can try out that nice compass your father gave you?”

It was at that moment that I knew something was awry: not only was it out of character for the sweet, aged jeweler to insert himself into other people’s conversations; but I definitely had not had enough interactions with him to have ever brought up my compass. Turning my head to meet his gaze, I realized that the golden, vertical-pupiled eyes into which I stared were not Vormesius’s…these were the eyes of an acquaintance long since forgotten, only to be resurrected from the depths of my childhood memories.

I knew not what else to do – I stared, unblinking, into his eyes as I addressed the merchant, but only in words: “uh, yes, okay…let me get my things together and tell my family, if that’s okay, Captain…?” I asked, waiting for his reply (as well as his name).

“Oh, sorry, yes, that’s more than acceptable,” he responded, pleased. “And the name is Darja – pleased to officially meet you and welcome you as one of the crew.” He extended his hand to shake mine and, after doing so, looked about for a moment before absently asking, “hmm, where did that dragonborn go in such a hurry? Oh well; meet me aboard the Golden Afternoon in one hour – adventure awaits!”

I found myself running again, in a complete daze. What was I doing? How was this happening? And why did that tabaxi man show back up? Why (and how) was he disguised? It had to be him, it just had to be. Those eyes, that voice…what was his name again?  It’s been so long…

Making it back home, I sped through the house, chaotically gathering up anything I thought I might find useful while at sea. Surprised to find me home so early, Mama followed me into my room: “Ka’lya, you’re home early – what are you doing?”

Anxiety springs up from my stomach and clutches at my heart as I swallow hard, not wanting to say what I knew had to come next. “I’m leaving, Mama. I’m going to join a crew for two weeks at sea.  I’m going to sail like Papa and bring home lots of coin to help the family. Don’t…don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…I’ll be back before you know it.” The words spilled out of my mouth in a mess of stoic sadness.  Mama’s eyes met mine and she silently watched me pack, eyes glistening with tears, as she stood in my bedroom doorway holding some laundry.

Eventually finding words, she stifled a sob before saying, “I knew this day would come…I just didn’t think it would happen so soon…please look after yourself, and write to me often, and remember the stories your father has told you: do the wise thing - not the brave thing - if you want to tell the tale." I could hardly look at her without wanting to break down in tears myself. She reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear then pulling me into a tight, warm hug. “You are so loved, Ka’lya – I will miss you so much.  Come back to me, okay?”

I nodded, fighting back the hot moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes. As I released from our embrace, something clattered from my pack to the floor.  We both looked down to see what it was before I realized – “the compass…I’m bringing it with me,” I explained.  

She smiled, halfheartedly. “I hope it brings you back to me soon then.”

I rushed in to steal one more hug and a swift kiss on the cheek before bolting back out the door, at which point I allowed the tears to come streaming down my cheeks as I rushed back to the port district. Breathless, I searched for Darja’s ship – my ship.  It didn’t take long to locate what looked at first like the regular old merchant schooner; however, its name (the Golden Afternoon) was embossed in brilliant metallic-colored paint and seemed to shimmer as the sun reflected off the waters beneath it.  The furled sails appeared to have a sandy circular emblem with a gold ship's wheel inside it, advertising it to other sailors as a merchant vessel. "Are you ready to board now?" Darja asked. "Just think, in two weeks' time, you'll have made fifty copper pieces by the time we loop back around!  And I’ll tell ya what, if you feel up to the task after the first ten-day, we can make it a solid 100 so that you can bring your mum a shiny gold piece if you think you can do two more weeks. Oh, the stories you'll bring home, too!"

Darja chattered on for what felt like an eternity, trying to talk up the whole scenario. But as we raised the anchor and shoved off to sea, all I could do was lean over the stern and watch Khaadeehava – the only place I’d ever known – fade out into the distance as we sailed westward into the sunset.

 -----------------------

Hope you enjoyed this week’s (belated) installation of Ka’l’s backstory!  If you enjoyed reading this, feel free to ask to be added to the list!

This is the first installment of one of my PCs’ backstories: meet Ka’lya (”Ka’l”) Bahriin. Though she is of celestial heritage, she is unaware of her aasimar abilities and believes herself to be simply human. In this opening scene to her initial private session (prior to starting the campaign), Ka’l gets brief snippets (while in-utero) of an exchange between her mother and an otherworldly entity. A plea is made, a bargain is struck, and the mark of a creature is placed on the unborn Ka’l, sealing a deal that would include her in this creature’s collection of many more children like her to come...these children are known as “the Pactborn.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You have yet to take your first breath, see your first face, smell your first scent.

But you can hear.

Muffled as it may be deep inside your mother’s womb, you hear the gentle and steady sounds…SIFFFFF…SIFFFFF…SIFFFFF…footsteps…you hear two sets of footsteps…one man's, one woman's, walking through sand… you're traveling, but to where, you know not…

"Are you sure this is the way?" asks the woman carrying you inside her weakened and exhausted body.

"Yes, I promise, we're heading south…it's going to be a few days though…" says the man's voice, dry and scratchy.

"We're nearly out of water, Hossam - we need to find more water…"

Time passes… Eventually, you hear the crackling of what you will someday learn to be fire and a warmth against the space in which you grow.

"I'm off to look for something we can eat…wish me luck," the man says.

"Good luck - may Rakisa be with you," the woman replies.

SIFFFF…SIFFF…SIFFF…the footsteps fade… You hear whispers, too soft to make out…the woman sounds like she is crying…and praying, perhaps…? Maybe begging?

A short time passes…you hear her continued weeping with intermittent sobs…and then, that growingly familiar sound…SIFFFF…SIFFF…SIFFFFF…footsteps, approaching again…these footsteps sound different though: they're softer…padded…

Suddenly, with a gasp, the woman jerks, frightened. You feel yourself jostled about from the outside as you hear a low, smooth voice resonate from this new creature. "Good evening, my lady - allow me to come closer…what do you desire?" You hear murmurs…questions…more weeping…then, suddenly, you feel a seizing searing pain and hear a stifled scream from the woman – your mother. Shivers, the catching of breath, then steady breathing. "It is a deal then," says the mysterious voice.

"Is that all? Is that all you require?" the woman asks.