717th Arc, 5th Trial of Cylus
Etzos
Neronin waited patiently by the docks, glad to be away from the Museum. The attendance had gone up twice over by the time Cylus had set in. Everyone was bundled up and looking for something to do that kept them inside and warm. Eventually the draw of the drink pulled most away from spending all their time at the taverns around town in search of a less expensive pass-time. Neronin himself had even been drawn to the tavern on one cold night. The deep dark of the sunless season brought everyone closer together, physically that is. Neronin stood upon the docks with his dark black hood up against the stiff chill.
He was waiting for a shipment for Head Curator Tabard. The riverboats from Foster's Landing were slower now, having to navigate by torchlight and stars when they were lucky. The bargemen were not as accustomed to those methods as the traditional sailors who brought the goods to Fosters. As a result, Neronin had been waiting for nearly half a break past the arrival time as far as he could tell. The mage stood with the torch held high, sending orange light dancing across the Etzori cobbles. A few dock workers eyed the dark figure as they passed, but Neronin was more a more familiar sight than he would have liked around the docks. Tabard often sent him to receive parcels and packages, works of arty and artifacts from afar. Neronin liked to be away, especially today when the Museum was host to an especially rowdy and dense group of city officials who were determined to milk their tour for all it was worth.
Eventually the Etzori curator saw a flickering light in the distance. It appeared at precisely the same place it always did. First a faint glow, and then around the bend in the river came the bright, albeit small, dancing form of a prow torch. Neronin could tell because the obvious grate around it. He had watched a few such lights approach the docks in his service with the Museum. Neronin sighed and approached the edge of the dock where the boat would inevitably tie in. He retrieved from beneath his robes the official seal of the Museum, a token of ownership over whatever rare and expensive artifact Tabard had seen fit to acquire next.
Neronin could see that something was amiss on the barge. It moved less smoothly through the water and in the torch light those aboard seemed sluggish. The mage frowned. Usually these bargemen were the epitome of efficiency when it came to navigating the river, even in Cylus when they needed to be slower and more careful. Neronin glanced behind him. A few haggard looking dock workers were taking a lunch on a low wall nearby. He waved to get their attention, the action all but futile in the darkness of Cylus.
"You there. Does that barge seem in distress?" Neronin called to them. The barge was coming closer and Neronin could make out a few figures on the deck. He noticed that they moved in a more lurching way that most sailors. He watched as one seemed to drag a lame leg across the deck in his haste to push the barge further. Neronin knew now that something was wrong. He could hear their faint curses carried unnaturally far over the calm black water of the Southwood. The dock workers seemed to have ignored his query, opting to maximize their lunch time. Neronin squeezed the torch in frustration, moving along the dock.
"Hey! You there, are you alright?" He called after a moment, waving his torch over his head. His yell attracted not only the attention of the bargemen hard at work, but that of a few onlookers. Dock workers and Black Guards seemed to converge on the spot where he stood, all gazing out at the barge. Neronin saw the bargemen moving faster, more chaotically. They seemed to find renewed vigor in his shout. As the barge approached and slid into the light of the more numerous Etzori torches, Neronin saw the side of the barge was scorched black. The men aboard seemed to move faster now that they could see people on the dock.
"Look at their boat!"
"What could do something like that?"
