[imported_mpfplush]

[COLOR="White"]Caleb shifted stoically under the weight of his pack, as he stood upon the deck of the "Storm Queen". The mild autumn seasonal breeze felt cool upon his cheek, and his copper coloured hair blew slightly in the wind. It had been a pleasant crossing from Nujhelm, and at last, his destination was within eyeshot.

He had left Nujhelm (where he had spent the entirety of his youth) for the first time little more than three days ago, and was excited at the prospect of finding work in Minoc. He had always dreamt of being a blacksmith, and a Grandmaster at that. Metals were seldom found where Caleb had been raised, as much of the construction was fashioned of marble and sandstone, to keep the almost perpetual heat at bay. Expensive silks were also the norm in Nujhelm, as the weather was far too warm for aught else, and mail clad visitors were a rarity.

Caleb absently patted at a small pocket in his doublet, and was pleased to hear the rustle of his letter of introduction. Caleb's wealthy sire had arranged at no small cost to himself a position for Caleb within the Miners Guild of Minoc. Caleb now had Guild approval to become a prospector within the mountains that surrounded the rather rustic city to the north of Britannia. The town of Minoc was booming with industry, and much wealth could be had for those who dedicated themselves to hard work and trade.

Coming out of his reverie, Caleb shielded his jade green eyes with a hand. Upon the shores of the bay of lost hope, the frontier town of Minoc could be seen in the distance. Dockworkers could be observed loading crates of cargo upon the many ships at anchor, and colourful pennants and banners could be seen flapping in the breeze from where Caleb stood upon the deck of the ship. The shouts of a foreman could be heard from across the water, exhorting the common labourers to more heroic efforts.

At the bow of the ship, dolphins could be seen at play, and the glorious morning sun shone high in the cloudless skies, a fortuitous omen, Caleb mused.

As the ship sped toward the docks, a small rowboat came up alongside the larger ship, and the harbourmaster took the helm to steer the Storm Queen safely into port. Caleb noticed that the captain had seemed more than a little disgruntled, but had accepted the custom with good grace. Finally, as Caleb's excitement mounted, the captain ordered lines thrown and secured to the docks. Experienced dockmen caught the lines, and tied the ship to the cleets with practised ease, and within minutes, the ship slowed to a halt.

At last the plank was lowered, and Caleb waited for the passengers of rank to disembark. Soon enough, it was his turn, and he once again felt hard cobblestones beneath the soles of his fine leather boots. He strolled down the main path into the town proper, and he set out to find a hot meal, (a welcome change from the chowder, and salted pork, which was the main fare upon the ship) a hot bath, and a place to rest. And then the day after, rested and refreshed, he would present himself to the Guildmaster of Minoc, which, for the forseeable future, would be his surrogate home.


~ To be continued. ~[/COLOR]