Historia Infinitum

This Document contains the history of Navum Stellarum, written from the point of view of the Guild Leader, Tru Veld.

Introduction

Year 1023

Tru Veld takes his ship, the Akai Neko, to the Sea of Irendille to recover from wounds both physical and mental from the war in the Empire. He brings with him many merchants from his trading company, who were brave enough to chance unfamiliar waters. They sail for days, using the stars to navigate, until finally making landfall. Exhausted, they clamber to the nearest inn, and are surprised by the fine food and fare there. The humans amongst them are watched carefully, though not with discourtesy, and once they have all rested, Veld requests an audience with his good friend Lord Colson to negotiate a longer term stay and a possible trade allowance, as much of their goods will expire if not sold quickly. The Fae Lord graciously agrees, so long as they stay within a certain quarter and don’t enter the nearby forests for any reason, citing danger and the local laws.

They are assigned Guides, Fae who have resided in these lands who can direct the ill informed travelers as they learn of their new homestead. Each night, Veld and the others watch spectacular sunsets on the waterfront, as well as doubly impressive displays from the starscape, painting colors and patterns rarely seen by mortal eyes. Slowly over time, each member of this small crew feels a personal change take hold in them; a slight but ever-present reminder of the nature of the lands in which they now reside. How this will affect them remains to be seen, however, one may be more affected than others- only time will tell.

Winter. 1023

It is early in the morning, and the sun is just barely cresting the horizon, it’s fair light promising warmth and illumination for those poor souls far far away from it’s powerful emanations.Cold snaps at the flexible fabric of the Akai Neko’s  rugged main sails, the red cloth making soft crackling noises as frost fragments, then reforms quickly, the surrounding weather well below freezing. There is silence there, her normally active decks uncharacteristically empty, moored tightly to one of the human friendly docks in the region of Taluskan.

The water surrounding her is still as a frozen corpse, only rippling slightly as the odd chill breeze trails frigid fingertips across its surface. Her Captain, Tru Veld stands braced on his hands at one of the side rails, wrapped tightly in his large cold weather sailor’s jacket, the heavy embroidered fabric proving significant protection against the environment. He stares quietly into the distance, observing the first light beginning to climb the walls of various businesses and homes visible around the city. He reaches into one of the oversized pockets, his skin gently rubbing against the fine golden velvet lining the opening, and pulls out a small book containing various information relating to the daily trading and goings on of his crew and finances. He flips through the crisp, textured pages until he arrives on one particular order form, which his eyes slowly scan through. “Lumber, check. Tar and pitch, sourced. Craftspeople and protection for the submission of funds has been sourced, and the slot in dry dock has been ordered.” He sighs audibly; the moisture from his breath clouding the air obstinately, giving him the slight appearance of being closer to a dragon, than a man temporarily. Too little time had passed since their escape from the war, evidenced unavoidably by the continued trips to the Fae healers he and a not insignificant portion of his crew had been taking. Why was it, he mused, that wherever he, and his people went, trouble always seemed to follow?

There were positives resulting from their move; the prevention of further injuries, successful sale of the majority of the goods they had brought with them, lessons for those of the crew that had begun to feel strange changes within them on how to manage those changes, and likely a million other good things that he hadn’t even heard about yet, given the smiles everyone seemed to be wearing lately despite the cold. The biggest event had likely been the securing of an elite and very exclusive construction deal that would result in the first ship of Navum’s fleet to be built by the steady hands of the elves of Irendille. He knew that, yes, technically it was going to cost them a pretty penny, but when he had seen the initial design documents and cost estimates generated by one Wren Devlin, he had approved the project immediately, and been feeling exceptionally optimistic about their future prospects. 

So what was it bothering him so much?

He knew that the role and responsibilities of being a group with a fleet meant always being conscious and supportive of your homeland’s needs and hopes, especially for the purposes of naval security, but there was something more there. Elusive.

 Was it the financial cost? The lack of familiarity with the allied forces and captains? The battle fatigue from months of heavy fighting?

No. 

It was far more likely that he was concerned for the safety of his family he decided. Their constant care and grace under strained and dangerous circumstances has proven to be the difference between life and death. They finally had a place to rest, to recover, and to heal. They DESERVED to be safe.

It was when all had seemed to be settled then , that he had heard whispers through his trade contacts that several regions outside of the Empire were currently going through heavy internal strife considering the ruling members. More individuals wishing to exert their wills on others, he supposed although somehow this time seemed different. Heavy.

 Andor, one of the bordering nations with Irendille, had  visibly exploded, with one of their fleets declaring dominance over Irendille’s territorial waters. He didn’t know if it was ignorance or malice that guided THAT particular decision, but he DID know that it had made itself their problem now when they had released a “treaty” detailing how they should and should not operate while at sea.

He spit into the water, his face openly twisted with disgust before settling into a stone mask of grim determination. He straightened up, patted his coat down, and proceeded into his cabin, where large quantities of charts, records and plans were being developed.  

They had been given a job to do. 

It was time to get to work.

Purple Bal 1024

The smell of piss and sweat ran heavy through the air as the small group of fae disembarked the Akai Neko into the slime riddled ports of the TDS. At the call of the council of Irendille, the forces of Navum Stellarum had been ordered to sorty to the city of Gotweild, to provide security and conduct business in their grubby streets. Tru Veld had disliked this idea heavily, but at the assurances of the Mournival, and under the support of his squire Maeve, he had relented, requiring at a minimum, one of their group to be armed. Maeve had eagerly volunteered as honor guard, and had taken great care to conceal her methods of defense so as not to alert any of the more aggressive individuals in the streets.

They had eluded a few instances of danger, deviants and vagabonds running freely through the streets, the alleys giving way to a raucous feast of some unholy variety. Even Veld himself, known widely for his hedonistic ways, avoided the seeking hands of the grubby prostitutes and dealers seeking the warmth of his purse. Eventually though, they made it to the Irendille embassy, where a warm host of familiar faces awaited them, a welcome respite from their entry to the city.

After a time spent together, during which the delegation from the province of Taluskan warmly greeted them, welcoming them formally and beginning their process of entry as full citizens, the party had felt warm, and more relaxed. 

The business of the night had begun upon nightfall, when the group had spilt into teams, each with an individual mission to complete. For Tru, he was to assist Nolwë Tarband, and Turco Iosson in the negotiation and acquisition of additional naval resources.

For Del Carmine, it was the continued development of Kaffian/Irendillian relations, and the management of ongoing diplomatic ties with prospective allies. His shrewd diplomacy providing key viewpoints on the ongoing global situation.

For Wren Devlin, it was the assistance of the Manwë Runa, in her efforts, and gifts given of Fae-soil That called for her,  the warm light of their joined spirits providing guidance and peace for all.

For Rosie and Maeve, the continued monitoring of the leadership to ensure their wellbeing took precedence, though none could say their efforts were outshone by any of the nights deeds, as each of the Mournival are notorious in their inability to self-regulate in the face of business.

For Charlie, there was intelligence collection, people-watching and pattern recognition, her quick eye making easy work of the attempts of agent of the Sud to counteract the team’s interests.

The night proceeded smoothly, large profits being piled up and major fistfuls of coin spent in the name of progress. The fleet of Irendille was bolstered, the coffers of the guild equalized, and all missions the team had been given were completed, as if conducted in a choreographed dance.

Tru Veld had a touching reunion with the Emperor himself, and in his ecstasy at seeing his lord returned to health, downed a glass of wine filled with poison, before his stalwart guardians could stop him, and fell seriously ill. His planned campaign to the north waylaid as he was pulled by cart on the roads too ill to stand.

GB 1024

A balmy gale blows, the rain falling heavily down as the crews of the Fleets of Irendille haul lines and dress sail to prevent further damage to their ships. 

Their captains hold fast at the wheel as massive forty foot waves crash upon their vessel’s sturdy hulls, soaking all hands with freezing cold seawater, first mates calling heartily over the wind to motivate each and every sailor to pull through the day.

The storm had been unexpected, setting into the Littoral with a fierceness not seen in generations. Their initial plan of marshaling in Yula had fallen apart as heavy mists and sorcery pulled them off course, the waters proving to be a fearsome opponent.

Tru Veld, sturdy hands guiding the Akai Neko through the squall, squints, his normally fancy hat soaked through, his hair slick with the rain, squinted as the salty spray nearly blinded him. His beard was soggy and his face haggard, his mind set to the sole purpose of getting their fleet out of this nightmare.

“All hands trim sail and hold fast! We’re going to ride out the worst of it! Stow all nonessential lines and heave to!” The call from the Akai Neko’s crew went up, muffled by the winds, a flare shot into the sky, signaling the intentions of the lead ships, and soon the entire fleet was buckled down to weather the storm.

Days passed, some better than others, before finally they returned back to the temporary berthing they had been given in Andor previously. 

After some time, a notice was given that all hands were to prepare themselves for an official swearing in ceremony. The new Seekers, as well as the founding members of the Guild all came together and swore to each other and to themselves in service to the fleet. Much festivities were to be had that night, and the rum ran aplenty through mug and horn alike.

Hard battles were fought, and many victories were had for the guild, and for their friends the Fae, whom above all others had proven their quality. 

Captain Devlin, through research and study discovered strange connections to each of the crew, and implemented a formal ceremony rite to take hold of the inner strength granted to each Member via starfall. The Ravenstag appeared, and assisted in the transition, resulting in the completion of the Crew’s fae Transformation.

Winter 1025

How could this have happened?

Dust billows thickly through the air in the Captain’s cabin aboard the Akai Neko, The usual sounds of tramping feet above conspicuously absent. 

Tru Veld sits at his desk, the normal chaotic order of his desk somehow more chaotic than normal, charts, orders and instructions lie dormant, not having been touched for months.

He takes a stiff pull from a lit cigar, relishing the comforting profile of the fine tobacco leaf rolled within, and exhales with defeated purpose. 

The Mirage Court has decided to go their seperate ways, along with a large portion of his crew. 

He knows that in the long run, this will be just another bump in the road to success, but for now permits himself to mourn the loss of so many friends and allies. 

Unexpectedly, as he delves deeper into his own musings there comes a sharp knock at the door. He had not been expecting any visitors, and most of his remaining crewmates had left for the evening to enjoy well earned liberty.

“Enter” he croaks, his voice cracking from lack of use.

A tall hooded figure enters, weather stained cloak darkened with use and splotched with age. The door closes softly behind him with a “click!” And for a moment neither individual speaks. Tru raises an eyebrow, expecting some form of verbal communication, but instead the figure simply pulls a glass bottle from his cloak, a silver deer emblazoned on the front, and for a moment he can almost hear the sounds of a forest, long since forgotten, filling the room.

The figure finally speaks, his voice deep and strong, “I heard you could use a friend, if you have some time” and pulls his hood back to reveal the smiling face of Tru’s old comrade Peter York.

“Peter? I thought you had business with the emperor? Last I heard you were thousands of miles away, settling down within the Imperial household!” Tru exclaims, dumbfounded. “My business there is handled, Admiral.” Peter replied, “my business now is the care of a man who shouldn’t be sulking in his dusty old cabin. Have a drink with me, and let us plan your recovery together.” 

So the process began, with the support of his friends and allies, Navum’s new course was charted. Though there were many uncertainties, as the days went on, Veld began to feel more and more confident about their outlook. Time will tell what exciting journeys await!