Tides are a changing - a story of Abbots heritage return to the south

[Nosferatus]

Walk the plank

The salty waters of the cobalt gulf splash against the bow of the Madinan merchant ship, the sun is out and a chilly northern wind strikes the large canvas sails of Barbarossas ship as he takes a deep breath after which he shudders.
"Aye! the winds 'r a changin!"
He leans over the wooden frame at the front starboard as if to inspect the waters.
Normally tucked away in his cabinet, counting his coins, Captain Barbarossa atracted the attention of several of his crew members who inquired his unusual intrest in the very winds he so loathed. For the last years they spend with Barabrossa traveling the inner seas forced to hear him endlessly cursin the cold northern climate. But this time that same very wind brought them quickly and smoothly over the waters.
"Lads! good news! 'r last trip the cursid norths this shall be! 'er big blue mercy 'as shown me in 'er depths the changes to come! as the stargazers march south, so shall we, our work here has shed off it's fruits 'n now we shall reap 'em!"
Somewhat puzzled and confused, several crew members start to cheer and soon the others followed. As far as they could, they understood, that there endless sailing up and down the inner sea was over. But where these 'new winds' shall take them this time, was for them still a mystery. Yet Barbarossa seem to knew very well what it meant and never before have they seen there captain this excited before.
"Ye can't hide ny longer father, it's time 'or yer head to come out of yer miserable hole for me to cut it off and threw it in the depths of the fissoan straight..." He mumbled softly before he looked out over the endless blue waters and preached. "'n by 'er mercy shall we prevail, by 'er mercy 'er wrath shall once more be feared, 'n the ol treachiours royalist wenchh be jousted with er kin from yer blessed lands..."
Two sailors close by look each other in the eyes trying to control there laugh. "Kook kook!" the black haired young northern lad said to his pal as he implies insanity with his gestures. The other lads eyes opened wide as he spots Barbarossa's attention for there conversation. His pal, faced with his back to the captain continued with his impressions. "Ay! 'R 'R 'r mhgumple 'R!" he said while depicting him self as the captain, with a belly and a long beard, skiping from one leg to the other. His scared companion shook his head widley implying him to stop, but the northerner continued, now even more fanatic then before, almost screaming, jumping now from left to right putting up is funniest voice impression of his captain. "Ay! me's not fat! 'em 'r di 'R big bones! 'er mercy for me belly! 'R 'R....." Yet before he could finish his little comedy show, he felt the coldness of sharp stell on his troath.
"Yer one funny lad arn't ye? lets see how funny yer to the Kraken! WALK THE PLANK YE SCUM!" His furosious eyes now turned on the poor lads pal who was still shaking his head wildly from left to right with its eyes wide open. " Prepare the plank! or do ye feel like a swim?" The lad didn't hesitate for a second and ran to the other side of the deck where he cleared the plank of fishin crew members as per a fell one swoop. "'here ye go!" The captain burst out in a tremblin laughter as alike his father as his men take the poor northern lad to the feared plank of captain Barbarossa. "Now THIS 'her is one comedy show!" He spurtles from under his shatering laughter.
"Aye me lads, where goin to 'ave loads o fun, we can see that! whahaha!" He continues while the northern lad is painfuly balancing on the top end of the plank just before a large wave strikes the port of the ship...


Upon Fissoan shores.... again?

A Familiar ship boards the Fissoan harbor.
It takes awhile before you come up with the name, but anybody around these parts for some time remember its sight as soon as you see it.
The old 'Joly Roger' sails into the harbor with a probably just as old, ragish Madinan flag hoisted high up its highest mast.
As if a historic reenactment, its equally ragish captain proudly has is right boot on the board of the ship soaking up the fresh Fissoan air threw its dirty nostrils .
The whole sight attracts the port master, a fat middle aged local who comes running, all-though it looks more like a sort of 'hoping', towards the ship.

Once it reaches the end of the pier, completely out of breath it attempts to scream, yet all that came out of his trout sounded more like a pigs squeel.

"Halt....! Stop...!! Wha... What... What is this?! Is this another joke? Who sent you! who... who are you?!"

As soon as the port master stuttered his last words, the ship reached the pier and its captain jumped off in one subtle movement.
The features of the captain came more visible and it appeared to be a young, healthy ginger haired man with an enormous beard, dressed in simple cloth.
He wore a saber to his side which he drew and softly pierced in the piers wooden planks, as to lean on it with both hands.

"Ay!  Me name is Sir Barbarossa, son of father Abbot of Madina, 'n this.... is me ship! 'er joly roger!"

The port master was somewhat baffled but quickly geared his mind back into his daily routine.

"I don't care who you are, its a gold piece a day for a ship like that!"

Barbarossa laughed loudly and grabbed a few coins from his pouch and roughly placed them with one hand into that of the port masters.

"Now yer port masterness, tell me 'here me self may find 'is grace Lord Loathin, we're in search of an estate to suit 'r needs."

As the port master swiftly counts the coins his eyes widens a bit after which he replied.
He was somewhat surprised by the size of Barbarossas pouch and the fact that he was actually a noblemen.
'in them cloth? i sweared it was a lunar, well coins never lie' he thought

"There now estates to find here... Sir..., there all full, you must look elsewhere, his grace is around you will find it not that hard to find him."

The port master opens his hand again and show the 7 coins to the captain.

"You got 7 days, or your 'joly roger' is mine, ye hear? You better cough more up if you don't want to lose her!"

Barbarossa looks the man in the eye, and laughs in reply as he walks off the pier straight into the city of Fissoa, without even the slightest attempt to dodge the fat man nearly knocking him off of his feet. "