The easterner named himself as Joros. A merchant and scholar, whom had made his wealth through treasure seeking. He sold exotic plants and animals to lands not his own; and hired specialist on which ever part of the world he would travel. However none of his own would dare travel to the jungle island of Panter. Non would venture to the doors of the temples within the city of stone. Fear of leapord-men and stoned abominations was far too strong. So he traveled west. In search of those either ignorant or indiffrent to the tales that culminated his region of origin.
He considered himself lucky that westeners seemed far more eager then most, to die for glory and pride. Rather financhal gain. To his cause, he found a group of twelve rowdy pirates on a small ship in need of repair; to which Joros agreed to pay the cost. A boy of sixteen with a lust for heroics. A thief. And the large half-breed warrior of red hair and snow white skin.
With the man power at his disposal. He would have his prize. For which, his true purpose would be served.
"The Island is a days sail from here. So tonight we feast and rest well. For by first light; we may see the first signs of vegetatation."
Joros spoke to the men in his company. His strange accent like an exotic smell. Making the men both curious and angry.
"Bah! Speak to us when our payment is within our grasp, desert dog!"
A large tatooed pirate called Santos, called from the poop-deck. He was one of the largest men aboard the Gambit. A position he shared with the pale war-fought, albino, half-breed. A fact, he did not appreciate. Until the arrival of the dwarfling, his position of strongest was solidified. Now the pale warriors very existence threatned that title. But he would end it. Once on land. He would smite the red haired creature and bring the crew it's head. Both as a sign of strength and a warning of insubordination.
"I don't trust these men Lavantis. Especially, Joros. He is a mage after all. And all mages worship deamons of the fiery pits."
Kal the youngest of the men spoke. He was but a boy; but by twelve, he had slain a lion in singular combat. By thirteen he killed two knights of the south in defense of a rapped girl. So he was forced into seclusion. Living off mare and venison upon his capture. He was to be publicly executed. But not before being publicly beaten and humiliated. Joros paid large for his rlease. A fact that the young fighter, chalked to being selfish. For the man had only sought to use his skill; not redeem his soul.
He had fallen in with Lavantis due to him having, atleast, to Kals estimation, more nobility then the men in both their immediate surroundings. He did not see a brute, pirate, or thief. But a contemplative warrior.
"Do you believe he has our better interest at heart? We have been at sea for six days. And yet, he speaks very little of why he needs the cry. Let alone twenty."
Lavantis sharpened his sword whist the youngling, spoke his claim. Keeping silent as the lad spoke.
"Look around you warrior. What do you see? Crusty pirates, with no care for their own barge. A theif, and a man who could simply buy as many of these jewels as he wishes. Why then, most he have need of us then? Why I ask you?"
Lavantis finally spoke. A grim truth in his acts of dimness,
"I am no fool boy. I know quite well, that Joros has no two of anything. He said upon our meeting that he sought, "that which has not been claimed." And that, "the tales of the city of stone were of eastern knowlede." I listen, very carefully to every word spoken. I allow this farce to continue for one reason. The cry and these men, shall be my own. And if they do not serve my will. They shalt die in the seas."
The boy nodded at the dwarfs plan. Yes, he spoke of theft and murder; but was the culling of evil, truly an evil act in and of itself? It was the ambiguity of a warriors life, that man nor god, could properly quatify. So the boy listened. Contemplated, then agreed. For he would much rather fight for Lavantis, then the silk-covered, deamon he served under now.
That night in the mess-hall the pirates swaped tales. And like most; the elder led the charge. A man named Broth, whom could weave the human tounge, like a modern day hairsylist held the court.
"I have sailed many ports. This hellish place we aporoach on the morrow, has not one. And why? The beast that thrive upon the island. In the swamps, and jungles. And the coves and bays. Men with the head of leapords, and reptilian swamp creatures, whom soul purpose, is to naw on human bone."
"How know you this you senile goat? You perhaps, can not remember how to properly mount a woman! How can one believe your claims of magics and monsters?"
Santos asked harshly.
"Fool! I know for I have been to this isle of the east. And nearly died in it's jungles, long forsaken, by any devine god. If it is truth you require.."
The man stood from a seat he held at the center of the dining table; and roughly tore open his own shirt, revealing a road-map of scars. All present bodies, save for Lavantis, gasped at the sight.
"..Take a look boy! These scars are from Jagfai, the leapord man. I served with men whom sought the treasures of the stone city you all seek now. And the beast slew them whole. If not for a few brave and wise souls, I would have suffured the same fate."
The elder man set down after. Confident, that his words had struck home.
"Then why join this search old man? Why place yourself in this voyage to the unholy pits?"
Lavantis now questioned. His voice like the boom of thunder.
The elder answered his younger ship mate with,
"Before my death, I wish to see the beast drowned in it's own blood. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the man to do it."
The others looked to the pale giant with hair of fire, with intense sight, but it was the arrogant Santos who spoke,
"Bah! And what of the rest of us? Eh? Are we not men with capabilities worth slaying an abomination?"
"Your skills lie in rape and theft. Leave the heroics to greater men. And take no shame in your universal role."
This was Kal. The young boy with tawny hair, and fair skin and blue eyes. And a sword not quite used to war has the others.
"Insolent welp!"
Santos leaped from his place at the dining table. An ugly excuse for a sword, held firmly in the grip of his meaty right hand. The feral eyes of a killer trained on his desired quarry. Lavantis leaped from his seat and drew his axe. A weapon forged of true steel. He did not scream. Nor did he threaten. Not entirely. He simply said,
"Sit down."
The large pirate scowled and prepared to attack, but before blood could hit the wooden floors, Joros stepped into the cabin, his jewels sparkling in the candlelight that lit the dinning area. He spoke strenly, but reasonably,
"This will not be tolerated. I need all of you. If one dies here, for no reason but pride or a petty squabble. Non here shall be paid!"
That was enough to end the battle. But not the threats.
"Your guts shall be my feast dwarf!"
"Perhaps in your fantasies, pirate. Perhaps not even then."
As promised. Upon first light the sight of land came into the crews point of vision. Large mountains, reached for the heavens. Speaking of fresh fruit and water. The ship became alive with it's sight. Almost enough to cast the illusion of comradarie. For Joros of the east. The sight spoke of absolute power.
"And from the sea, rose the hands of gods new and old. Hands to give power to the belivers."
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