"Gods . . . Captain, please tell me that you have erred, and that this wretched place is not my destination." Rhian was holding on to one of the ropes that ran up to the ship's mast, staring ahead at the frontier town that lay ahead of the vessel.

"Oi, that's Reedharbine, right as rain," Captain Bellflower chortled.

"I have ne'er before laid eyes on such haphazard, mismatched hodge-podge of miserable hovels situated in such a stinking mire . . . " Rhian sputtered, "well, leastways not since I took a wrong turn and unintentionally ventured into the slums of ______________(Capital City)."

"Well, yer lordship . . . leastways, she's got a good harbor -- once ye make it past the reefs, that is," the mariner added in what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice. The last thing that Bellflower wanted was this annoying young whelp to become so discouraged at the sight of Erskine that he decided to book passage for a return trip.

As it was, Bellflower already had to intercede during the outgoing voyage to prevent one of his seamen who was enraged by the dismissive jibes of the young noble from knifing the insensitive sod one foggy eve and tossing his body overboard -- and he certainly did not want more of that sort of trouble on the voyage home.

Rhian pinched the bridge of his nose, shut his eyes, and sighed heavily. "Captain Bellflower . . . please do not address me as 'lordship' -- I hold no such title, and to hear it spoken thusly annoys me to no end."

In point of fact, due to an unfortunate accident of birth, Rhian was two persons away from such a title: namely his father, Borogove Marketh, (reputed to be quite mimsy) -- who currently held it -- and his boorish lout of an older brother.

The title had originally come as a boon to his grandfather, Borsalas Marketh, in return for that worthy agreeing to cancel a very substantial royal debt owed to Borsalas' trading coster by the king of that time. It seemed that His Royal Highness had developed an insatiable taste for the spices brought from far-flung lands by Borsalas' caravans and ships -- spices that were very rare . . . and very expensive.

~~I suppose that I have no one but myself to blame,~~Rhian thought glumly, ~~since I requested to come to this place.~~

In point of fact, Rhian had grown weary of watching his older brother, Borsop, piss away the family fortune whilst Rhian stood idly by, powerless to intervene. The young cleric had devoted himself to the teachings of Kelemvor, and he had decided that in addition to taking him as far away as possible from _____________ (Capital City), traveling to Reedharbine would afford him the opportunity to observe the interaction between the unavoidable Chaos of a frontier settlement and the immutable, rock-solid Laws of the Lord of the Dead, as well as to obey Kelemvor's tenet to ease the transition of the dying into the afterlife -- after all, in such a place, surely Death would walk shoulder to shoulder with the living.

Bellflower shrugged and answered "As you wish, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to issue some orders so that these poor excuses for seamen do not smash the Sea Dancer up hard against yon dock."

Rhian dismissively waved the captain away so that Bellflower could attend to the duties that he was being well-paid to perform, and turned his gaze back to the miserable vista before him.

"What a shit-hole," he muttered under his breath.

---

Rhian (pronounced "Ryan") Marketh stands a couple of inches under six feet, and weighs some 185 pounds. He wears his dark hair long, and is freshly clean-shaven without fail.

When in Reedharbine he generally wears a comfortable set of traveler's clothes, with both his holy symbol (of Kelemvor) and his family signet ring in evidence.

When equipped for battle, he wears chain mail, carries a shield and warhammer, and has a light crossbow and javelins available as ranged weapons.

Any who watch Rhian closely will note that he tends to tire easily, and he suffers from a hacking cough that sometimes causes him to daub at his lips with an expensive handkerchief that is embroidered with his initials and family crest.

One senses that he can be quite cordial when he is so inclined (although you is ill-advised to hold your breath in anticipation of that occurring) -- after all, he comes from a long line of merchants who have made their living (and a sizeable family fortune) through wheedling, bargaining, and deal-making.

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OOC: This a work in progress, and will be amended and edited along and along. I wanted to get something up on the board, however, to afford anyone the opportunity to riff of of Rhian's background. :)