Númenórean Blood Runs Black RPG

[Folwren]

Captain Hereric, his arm wrapped about the sturdy wood of the foremast, shaded his eyes against the rising sun. He, too, had seen the plume of smoke as he had come on deck and, as the king had, mistook it at first to be a normal, small cloud. Almost at once, Winmar, his left tennant, had approached him and told him that the look out had spotted what appeared to be smoke, and the captain had run aloft.

Now from this new vantage point, he could see more clearly and understood the look out’s uncomfortable feeling. It was smoke after all. An uncomfortable amount of it. With a sigh, he leaned against the mast and dropped his hand from his eyes. Really, he could do nothing about it, except make more sail. That much he would do.

His hand swung out instinctively to grasp a hanging rope and he gently let himself slide down to the deck. Landing squarely on his feet, he released the rope and hurried up to the quarter deck.

“Good morning, my lord,” he said, seeing the king on the deck. “Excuse me for a moment, sir. Winmar, have the topgallants set. Make full sail.” The left tenant gave the correct answer of ‘Yes, sir’ before turning to the rail and giving the orders. Hereric turned to the king. “I apologize, sir. You had a good night, I trust? You’ve risen early. I hope it wasn’t due to an uncomfortable sleep.”