It had been quite a hazardous couple of weeks. As if stealing aboard a ship was not enough, it turned out to be the more dangerous of the two docked in the Taras harbor. He had seen senior citizens boarding, but it was a cunning deception. Sure, the entire crew had been in retirement for several years, but they seemed to have all turned to piracy.
Drinking grog and throwing knives at each other, they never seemed to noticed the half-Avariel flying around the hull of the ship and finding a perch on the mermaid figurehead. That is, until they docked in a small village near the Debon Plains to take on supplies.
A dock worker noticed the white, feathery wings of the stowaway fluttering around the bow and singaled trouble to the captain. As Zesziel was flying around, he was looking down into the water and not ahead of himself as the captain ordered the cannons be readied.
As they crept out their windows, the cannons were prepped for fire. With extreme amounts of luck, Zesziel missed the first cannon and was clipped by the second one, flying headlong into the third, which jostled it so much that it turned to the fourth and was set off at force of the body hitting the barrel.
The cannonball launched straight through the barrel of the fourth cannon, causing an explosion as the shrapnel of the barrel struck the resting ball, covered with gunpowder, at the base, and lodged itself in the barrel of the fifth cannon. The explosion of the fourth cannon sent shrapnel through the lower deck of the ship. They say that everyone has a bullet with their name on it, but shrapnel is addressed as "To Whom It May Concern."
Shrapnel flew everywhere, striking bodies, posts, support beams and the most dreaded target: barrels of gun powder. Just as a rather large, particularly grusome metal shard tore through the first available powder keg, the semi-dazed half-Drow, laying on the third cannon after knockng the wind out of himself, stared in fear, eyes wide.
The resulting explosion sent him flying through the air, tumbling head over feet, skimming over the water. Not much later, he landed in the water with a rather large splash, but no one noticed him, as everyone was staring at the ship that had spontaneously combusted.
Only one person, the dockworker, saw the flying man around the hull of the ship, but he had misstepped off the pier and fell into the water, hitting his head on a rock and dying instantly.
Several hours later, Zesziel was hiding by a copse of trees that could allow him to see the still burning ship. Every so often, within the past few hours, there was a new explosion. However, everyone was sure now that nothing else was left for the ship to do but sink in flames. The half-Drow knew that if anyone noticed his appearance and dampness, they would immediately pin the so-called disaster on him, so he ran down back streets until he got to the other edge of town.
The half-Avariel ran and flew as fast as his body would allow, as far away from that village as he could get. Every so often, he would think on his accident and laugh.
The further he went, the flatter and less interesting his surroundings became. Soon it seemed as though he were losing his sanity due solely to the boredom his mind was experiencing, looking at the same scenery for ages. He felt as though he were as close to the middle of the Plains as ever, as the same scenery stretched out to the horizon all around him.
One morning, Zesziel awoke earlier than usual, having felt as though he were being watched by someone for the past few days and looked around. There were nothing but plains in all directions, but one could never be too careful. Especially if their eyes are weaker in sunlight than usual.
"I actu'ly kind o' wish some'un would show up. It's kinda lonely out 'ere, anyway."
(( OOC: Okay, just so you know. He spelt out his name and then signed Who're you? I put the letters before each description so you know what the spelling was. ))
Images streamed by in nothing other than mere blurs as he rushed through the city streets. Leaving all of those around him to wonder what the deal had been, but the second they witnessed the pursuit they would come to an understanding as to what had been happening. Countless men trailed in pursuit of the child, hoping to bring the thieving child to justice and teach him his just desserts. Although, it would quickly come to no avail, because the further on the pursuit had gone, the more the child seemed to pull away from them. At least until they broke out into the wide spanning plains of Debon, where the child had eventually broke the pursuit as they all seemed to stop to catch their breath.
Continuing on throughout the plains, his lavender eyes flickered across his surroundings, finding them rather bland. A tree here and a tree there, followed by some rolling hills and some brushes of grass. It was no where near something of beauty or even interest. On top of that, there was nowhere he could really hide should they decide to pick up the pursuit again. It sucked, but he would have to deal with it by finding a place he could rest for the time being until they would come. From there, he would have to run again until he lost them, but at least he would be rested for when that time came.
Again his eyes flittered across his surroundings, this time spotting something out of the ordinary in the distance. Curious by nature, he decided to check it out against his better judgment. Slowing to a slow trot and then to an upbeat walk, he would begin to approach the now apparent figure resting off a short distance from him. It was certainly an odd looking creature with skin as black as night, hair and wings of ivory like white appearance. Unsure whether to continue or not, his steps would falter just short of it. Settling a cautious hand upon the short sword at his side, his slender digits would coil around the leather working of the hilt just in case. Using his free hand, he would point his index finger at himself, before proceeding into a few hand movements. F, both his index and thumb would connect at the tips in an O like fashion, while the other digits would lift upwards and spread themselves. A, a fist would form with the thumb placed just against the side of his index finger. R, both his index and middle finger would extend themselves and would cross themselves, almost as if he were crossing his fingers. A, the same fashion of hand movement would take place just like the prior A fashion. N, keeping his hand in the fist like position, his thumb would slip inside of the fist and tuck itself between the middle and ring finger so just the tip of the thumb exposed itself between them. T, moving the thumb from its current position, it would slip between his index and middle finger, so just the tip of the thumb would remain visible.
Nodding his head slightly at the creature, his hand would bring itself up to his face only to place the tip of his extended thumb against his chin. All the while his index finger would lift in a slightly curled fashion and would move up and down repeatedly, before his hand would part from his visage and out in front of him. Pointing at the creature now, he would simply await some form of response. The most likely response he expected was nothing other than, ‘The heck are you trying to do…?’ While his favorite was, ‘I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, but dwarves like you shouldn’t be trying to put hexes on people.’ However this creature decided to respond bothered him very little. He knew no one knew sign language, but that was mainly because people were too stupid to comprehend it to begin with and thus were afraid to try and learn it.
Sighing, the half-Drow decided to keep on going. He had already wasted most of the day and realized that he might want to get a move on if he wanted to eat sometime soon. Standing up, he finished tuning his lute and saw a figure approach. He cocked his head to the side and watched it come closer, with no difference in speed. This person was not speeding up to attack or slowing down to avoid.
It turned out to be a child. Oh, jeez. Where are this kid's parents? thought Zesziel. Then he noticed the short sword on the child's hip. Maybe 'e 'asn't got any parents, if'n he knows 'ow to defend 'imself wiv that. Then the child started making hand gestures.
"Farant, eh? I s'pose that means yer deaf, 'aving to sign like that. I do know a bit o' sign language, bein' a Drow an' all. Admittedly not very much, though. It's a bit dif'rent, but there are some basic sim'larities," he said, using the complicated signs as he spoke in his odd accent.
"My name is Zesziel. For sake o' ease, you can jest call me "Z". The few that I 'ave actually been close to, that's what they called me. What's a child like yerself doin' out 'ere all by your onesies, huh?"