Darkness in a White City (SG Chosen RP: Open)

The winds and oars of the cargo ship Blue Breaker were both needed to force the ship upstream from Cairhien. As men swore and labored under the hot sun, a simple gleeman sat in the bow of the ship, his eyes closed, his fingers dancing across the strings of the harp in his hands. Occasionally, the voices of the crew would go quiet for a few moments as the strains of music reached them, their eyes shifting to the strange man in the bow. The silence was never long, but the yelling never returned to its full volume, either. As engaged in the music as he was, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he played on. Absently, the man wondered what the men thought of it; there was no doubt in his mind that it was unlike anything that they'd heard before. The composer had died nearly thirty-five hundred years ago. The gleeman had only known him from the histories that he had studied in his youth.

The gleeman opened his eyes and glanced at the men laboring below, and another small smile crossed his face. Though busy, they were still an attentive audience; he felt the need to reward them in some minor way. His eyes flicked up to the one large sail, its canvas loose and almost undisturbed by the gentle breeze. His talents did not include working the weather, but it would be a simple matter to fill the sails with air... The Oneness came almost of its own volition, and the gleeman reached out to tainted saidin. Drawing it into himself, the gleeman smiled again as the taint fell away from saidin as it poured into him, filling him with the struggle for life that he had long ago mastered. A simple weave of Air filled the sail, pushed the ship forward. Quickly making certain that his disguise was in place and that the weave masking his ability to channel was holding, the gleeman released the Source. With a smile, Asmodean strummed his harp once, then began plucking "March of Death." Another melody that these primitives wouldn't know.

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Asmodean stood on the bow of Blue Breaker as the captain shouted orders to his crew. Men on the nearby docks in Southharbor stood waiting to catch mooring lines that the muscular deckhands threw to them, towing the ship nearer to the stone pier and tying it in place with speed that spoke of practiced action. Gathering his things, Asmodean looked again at Dragonmount. So... the mighty Dragon met his fate there, eh? The bastard always did like to be overdramatic. I wish I could have seen him in his last moments of despair. His features, though disguised, were still quite handsome, and the smile that was on his face would have been dazzling, had it not been directed at the mountain.

A tug at his sleeve pulled Asmodean's attention from the smoking volcano and to the captain of the ship. "Its been a pleasure having you onboard, Master Nameros. Are you sure that you will not travel back downstream to Tear with us?"

Asmodean smiled at the man. "Please, just Jaros. I thank you for the offer, Captain, but I'm afraid that I must refuse. I must replenish my purse before I go anywhere else. I do thank you for the speedy journey, though." With a final nod, Asmodean pulled his patch-riddled cloak about him and stepped off the boarding ramp and onto the docks. The finer establishments would be near the White Tower, and Asmodean had no intention of staying in a loft somewhere.