flashback | sea dragon, Myr • Dawson
Naelys Targaryen
 Posted: Dec 13 2017, 02:40 PM

Waves crashed against the docks, bringing with them ships from Westeros and the Free Cities. Rough and cheeky sailors flagged down some dock workers with a chiseled complexion. As they talked, their accents merged in a strange melody. A lullaby that soothed a bunch of drunkards who slept off rum or ale. Traces of a hectic night, several bottles took center stage on a large box. Those guys were quick at playing with their knife, and Naelys pulled away, towards a quieter area. After one year in Myr and wandering almost every morning in the port, he had slowly learned the best paths to enjoy his walks without ending in a fight.

Naelys took a deep breath. A fresh and salty scent filled up his lungs. He didn't miss home. He wasn't even sure what 'home' really meant to him these past months. A place? People? A scenery? So far, he enjoyed his days under the apprenticeship of an artisan. His main business was building houses for the well-off society. With him, Naelys strengthened his basic knowledge. His name had raised some eyebrows during his first day of work. There was some curiosity, a lot of incomprehension.

Nobody cared now.

Thoughts full of the blueprint on which he was working, Naelys rushed into a peaceful quay. Walks were great for inspiration sometimes. His mind wandered, and he felt as if he was coming up with a solution effortlessly.

Drifting amidst the moored ships, he noted the various names. Some women's names. Others had chosen some names to impress, to make their enemies quiver. With times, he could recognize some of them. As he encountered an unknown name, Naelys slowed down. The Flighty Duchess. Had he seen it before? He wasn't sure.

While he headed towards the ship, several boxes caught his attention. One of them was still open.

After looking around, Naelys peeked inside. Surprise painted on his face, he took one of the lenses stacked.

Dawson Greyjoy
 Posted: Dec 17 2017, 12:00 PM

There wasn't a cloud in the sky and yet it was a sunny, salt-tinged day aboard the Flighty Duchess as she moored into the quay. Suffice it to say, they were all beaten, tired, and hungover after a night of drinking and lusting like no other. All save for the captain however who didn't even show the slightest in pains when it came to alcohol. The men, ever eager to spread rumors about their captain, chalked it up to many years spent going to extremes when it came to drink.

And so Dawson went about his daily business below deck, counting down coins and measuring up each man's share of whatever income they took in. Each had performed well and the sailing had been smooth so each would take the upper end of what he had promised. On his desk, he meticulously took stock of it in the ledger while placing the coin in leather pockets allotted to each.

Once he was finished, his next task would be to inspect the merchandise as it was being unloaded aboard the quay. If all went according to plan, he would be making a tidy bundle this afternoon. Placing the pen down, he locked up the documents with a key he had cleverly hidden on-board before sighing and dressing up in a brown coat.

Upon emerging from the captain's quarters, he briskly walked the edge of the ship while admiring the bay. It was a beautiful sight and he never tired of it. He also noticed that most of the merchandise had been unloaded off the ship. Only problem was that, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his guards who was supposed to be keeping a lookout was lying fast asleep by a barrel on the quay.

Wearing a blank expression, the captain walked over calmly and masked the thoughts running through his mind for the moment. He inspected the barrels and the kegs that were sitting on the docks. He had taken inventory just the night before and none of it looked like it had been touched. All save for one however. A pretty box he had managed to procure was left open and inside, the expensive lenses he had procured were nowhere to be found.

Now, the first instinct he had was to check his crew and have them turn out their pockets. But these cases did happen and so he had taken out a little bit of insurance in case. One guard falling asleep was hardly anything new so he asked a personal friend to keep an eye open in case he needed it. There were other ships on this quay for a couple reasons and he had an arrangement with one of them.

'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' as the old saying goes and he happened to walk over after seeing Dawson appear. "You see any of my crew grab something from this stack?"

"Heh, fortunately wasn't one of your lot. Thin man with whitened locks came by and saw the open box. Made a run for it after. I couldn't catch'im but I had a couple of my boys follow him. Shouldn't have the legs to outrun ol'Dae, but I told'em to rough'im up a little and bring'im back here."

Pulling out his purse, the smuggler nonchalantly flipped his confidant several gold coins. "Makes my life a whole lot easier. I owe you a drink with that as well. Oh, and if you need a favor for your cargo next time, I'll take it me'self personally."

He waited for a time, munching on his deck with a breakfast of salted crackers and water to wash it down once the crew had finished their rounds, and the thief had been captured, he would have them and the guard from this morning lined up aside each other before him. He was fair when it suited him, but he could also be a harsh disciplinarian when it came down to it.
Naelys Targaryen
 Posted: Jan 9 2018, 05:06 AM

Suspicious. As Naelys took one of the lenses to examine it, he forgot this adjective could apply to him as well. However, his questioning grew when he came to the conclusion the lenses weren't some perfect imitation. How did they end up here? He didn't think he had heard something about a recent theft, and the artisans tended to talk a lot when these incidents happened. And seemed they were real… A thought crossed his mind. He looked around and tried to slip the lenses under his shirt while walking away slowly. A voice called him, and his pace changed all of sudden.

From suspicious to guilty, that was how he was looking like. Still, Naelys didn't plan to stop running. Following his instincts, not his reason, he wandered around, hiding at every spot he could find. His legs didn't leave him so much. But it wasn't the time to regret his lack of stamina.

Hidden behind a pile of boxes, Naelys waited for the voices to calm down to sneak out. Pretty sure he had managed to shake his pursuers off, he left his hideout. His confidence crumbled while one sturdy sailor and an older one with a nasty expression surrounded him.

He didn't stand a chance against them.

Spending more time to protect himself than trying to fight back, Naelys barely managed to stand up. A metallic taste filled his mouth. The pain was spreading in his body. But the men grabbed his arms and forced him to follow them. From the path they were taking, he got a bad feeling. It increased at the sight of the quay where the box was previously.

"There," A deep voice said. A hand pressed against his back pushed him towards the boat gangway. Naelys moved forward, stopped midway then reached the deck. He glanced at the man standing there sensing his importance. Who was he? Naelys felt he could partially reply to this question.

"It turned into a rough stroll…" He touched the corner of lips and grimaced. So much for a lens.

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