Arabesu
Registered User
Episode 1a
Yens Halfulfen, boson of the Sea Wyvern, coughed, heaved, and coughed again. Head-down, hands and knees in the sand he took a deep breath. A mistake. With one final cough he painfully expunged the last of the brine from his lungs, along with a very tiny fish. He watched this tiny fish for moment still dazed from nearly drowning. Nearly drowning? It was an absurd thought really, for he was such a strong swimmer. Rolling over onto into a squat, he accepted it. He had nearly drowned.
He looked out at the remains of the Sea Wyvern reefed only a few hundred yards from the beach. The storm that had shattered the ship was even now dissipating off to the west. Still somewhat dazed he leaned onto the broken spar lying next to him. It must have been part of the mizzenmast, exploded by the first big bolt of lightning. It was still quite hot, and sizzled with every lap of the breakers. Its warmth was curiously comfortable, reassuring, and grounding.
The clouds were parting off to the east, and in the gap, he saw the half moon. A daytime moon was rare treat and a good tiding! Abruptly, he stood, and howled. It wasn’t a particularly good howl, his lungs had not yet fully recovered, but he made up for the lack of volume by emoting the heartbreak over the lost ship. The long forlorn cry, lilting over the beach and echoing off the woods, reassured him further. He had work to do.
Suddenly, he noticed a body floating slowly toward him. He focused his vision and knew it was Captain Amella. Something was amiss: she floated too much out of the water. Then she rose out of the water altogether as the warforged blacksmith Klem came stomping out. With her form suspended over his head, he made for shore. Yens helped her to the ground, while Klem watched on silently. Yens, looked up at the living construct, “You did well Klem. Its good to see you hale and healthy.” His reply was only, “As for Klem, it is good to see you alive, Mister Yens.”
Amella was barely breathing. Yens had no skill at a surgery. Where was Kira? As if on cue, a massive eagle, weighing as much as grown man, swooped in toward the three castaways. Yards above the ground it began to transform into the Sea Wyvern’s other shifter, Kira. He landed mid-stride to a jog and had a wand and a poultice readied before his second step. Stoically crouching down over Amella’s still form, he said, “Cyrus is a few hundred yards from us clinging to some flotsom. I spotted him during my descent. I will be busy here, you must retrieve him.”
Yens turned on a heel and launched himself into the water. It grated on his nerves that Kira ordered him around as much as he did. And there was that other thing: Kira’s folk, the dreamsighted, had always made Yen’s a bit uneasy. Aloof they were, aloof and cold, and wise. So terribly and frighteningly wise. Yens had little use for wisdom relying more on his bold and impetuous enthusiasm. His folk, the longstrider shifters, had always relied on constant motion to preserve them, if you can move you are still alive…
The water was too cold. In all likelihood he would drown. There again was that haste that differentiated him so from Kira. He had rushed out into the water without thinking, without considering if he was outfitted properly. Just as he thought his arms would give, he reached the fragment of the topgallant that the Azurian Cyrus Morgrave was clinging to. Yens rested, a foot away from his semi-conscious friend. “Cyrus, wake up. Cyrus. Cyrus.” Not wanting to release his handholds, he head-butted Cyrus smartly.
Instantly the “good-incarnate” was fully awake, “For all that is holy, what was that for?”
“Kira needs us back on shore. If your quite finished with your nap do you think we could retire to the beach?” was Yens’ reply.
“Or course,” and with that Cyrus stood up out of the swell, and running upon the surface of water sprinted for shore.
“Oh don’t mind me! Can I at least get a tow?” Called out Yens. But Cyrus was already out of earshot, his cerulean sandals glowing brilliantly as he hurdled each breaker.
“That’s a hero for you,” came a voice behind Yens’ head. Turning suddenly and almost losing his purchase, Yens shouted, “Tsuan, you are alive. I had expected you to be onshore by now.”
The aventi Wu-Jen grinned back at him. “Nope. I had to take the helm when Amella was thrown clear. So I suppose you could say I went down with the ship.”
Yens was quite jealous of Tsuan’s recently acquired proficiency with boat piloting. Yens, a veteran sailor, was half the pilot of Tsuan-Tse. The water-mage’s innate genius and water affinity had allowed him to learn nautical tasks ten times as fast as lesser men. The frail aquan knew of Yens’ mild jealousy, and since they were friends, changed the subject by gulping down a mouthful of seawater as enthusiastically as a sailor drinks rum. “Tastes pretty good here: rich in strontium. Too bad about the Wyvern.”
“Indeed,” added Yens, “how long do you reckon it’ll take to get her up and going, Quartermaster Tse?”
Tsuan paused, tried to lighten his tone, but he couldn’t bring himself to jest about the destroyed ship. So he replied smoothly, “Yens, I don’t know that it will ever sail again.” With that they were quiet for a long while.
The water seemed like it was warming. Either that or Yens had recovered some of his vigor. Feeling better, he started paddling his makeshift life preserver toward shore. “Race?” asked the aventi treading next to him.
“Not on your life. You live in the element. How am I supposed to out swim a fish?”
“I’ll use only one arm.”
“Yes, but I can only kick, otherwise I’ll sink. I’m tired, Tsuan.”
“Oh, don’t be such a child. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of fearsome pirate or some such?” jabbed Tsuan. “How about we make the race go all the way to the edge of the jungle to make it more fair?”
They continued paddling to shore slowly. Yens grinned. He tried to pick up the pace at first hoping that Tsuan wouldn’t notice and maybe he could get a head start. Tsuan noticed, and matched him nonchalantly, effortlessly. Then Yens let go of his raft and they swam. Tsuan kept his word: he only used one arm. He still kept ahead of Yens; Yens really was exhausted. They heard chants from shore. There were several more survivors there now: the naturalist Urol Forol, Tavey Nansk the cabin boy, and that foul nobleman, Avner Marivanchy, and his horse. His horse! How had the animal survived?
Those on shore chanted as Yens and Tsuan-Tse raced toward them. Apparently Tavey had found the ship’s spyglass, guessed their task, and goaded the rest into cheering them on. Sportingly, they were evenly favoring Yens and Tsuan. Avner stood causally by and scowled, now mounted upon his horse.
When they reached the beach, Tsuan was only about ten yards or so ahead of Yens; they sprinted for the tree line up the loose sand. Yens knew then that he had already won. In the water, Tsuan had the advantage, but on land over uneven terrain…
Thud.
Dazed, Yens looked around. He had run right into Avener’s mount, because the noble had interposed himself between Yens and the forest.
“Flush it to the bottom, Avner… What is the meaning of this? .... We were in the middle of a race…” Shouted Yens, up at Avner between gasps for breath.
“Enough folly,” coldly replied the aristocrat. “Fetch water for Thunderstrike. He is thirsty.”
“What? You self important jackass, you don’t get it. I may be the boson and thus not technically an officer, but have you paid attention? The men call me sir. No one but the captain can order me around. And certainly not some… colonist.” Rebutted Yens acidly.
He knew why Avner and himself never got along. When they had set out from Sasserine, Yens had taken the second best cabin on the ship. This space had originally been earmarked for special guests, but everyone knew from the moment that Avner rode, not walked, rode onto the ship, that he was going to be a pain in the aft. So Yens had decided to have a little fun at his expense. With a few silvered words and some eloquent arguments, he was able to convince the rest of his adventuring group and Captain Amella that Cyrus and himself should take the port cabin. This was particularly clever since Cyrus had a ring that allowed him to operate without sleep. Thus Yens had one of the finest spaces virtually all to himself while Avner, noble born and rich, had to sleep before the mast in common quarters with all the other colonists and sailors.
“You forget that my Uncle sponsored this voyage and we are no longer on the Wyvern, Mr. Halfulfen. As such I feel no compunction to obey the conventions of nautical travel. You are a base born and low…”
“ROAAAR,” Avner’s soliloquy was thankfully broken short as the Jungle parted to reveal a Huge creature pushing aside the thick palms as if they were toothpicks.
“ROAAR” Its jaws were massive, with teeth like swords. It stood taller than the Wyvern’s mast on two stout legs and swung its thick tail about clearing an area of trees as wide as a farmhouse.
The naturalist Urol shouted, “It’s a Tyranosaurus Rex!” His excitement upon seeing a dinosaur for the first time suppressed by abject terror. “It’ll kill us all!”
Indeed, the creature had interposed itself between Tsuan and the rest of the group, obviously intent on having the isolated water-mage as its lunch.
Yens wove past Thunderstrike to intercept the beast. He reached down to draw his rapier… but it was gone from its scabbard.
“Sir” shouted Tavey from behind him.
Yens turned just in time to catch the hilt of his weapon as it flew at him. Good boy, Tavey: The cabin boy must have recovered the magical rapier around the same time as the spyglass.
As Yens ducked under the dinosaur it snapped at him barely missing. The sharp crunch of the bite resonated thunderously near Yen’s skull. Turning to jab up at the dinosaur’s hip he became aware of the ineffectiveness of his strike. A similar stab would have easily skewered a man, but against the dinosaur it looked like little more than a pinprick.
Then he noticed a recovered Amella approaching. As the dinosaur swung toward Yens, she plunged her rapier in its neck just as a panther, the druid in his predator form, bit into its heel. Now noticeably injured, it took a step back to assess its three opponents.
A stream of superheated steam burned its belly while a globule of acid covered its eyes. The t-rex howled in pain. Cyrus pumped his hand in the air in jubilation; he had had trepidation at throwing the acid into the melee, but he new now that the monster was so seriously injured that it had been worth it. The water mage, on the other hand, had wasted no time on celebration, deciding to place as much distance between himself and the monster as his shaky land-legs would permit after having burnt it with his steam.
As abruptly as it had arrived, the mammoth creature fled into the forest. Yens and Amella took parting stabs with their weapons, but it was still too tough to take down with two mere inches of steel. After a moment they could hear their panting over its fleeing steps and after several seconds more there was only the lapping of the waves and the stunned silence of the nearby colonists.
Yens Halfulfen, boson of the Sea Wyvern, coughed, heaved, and coughed again. Head-down, hands and knees in the sand he took a deep breath. A mistake. With one final cough he painfully expunged the last of the brine from his lungs, along with a very tiny fish. He watched this tiny fish for moment still dazed from nearly drowning. Nearly drowning? It was an absurd thought really, for he was such a strong swimmer. Rolling over onto into a squat, he accepted it. He had nearly drowned.
He looked out at the remains of the Sea Wyvern reefed only a few hundred yards from the beach. The storm that had shattered the ship was even now dissipating off to the west. Still somewhat dazed he leaned onto the broken spar lying next to him. It must have been part of the mizzenmast, exploded by the first big bolt of lightning. It was still quite hot, and sizzled with every lap of the breakers. Its warmth was curiously comfortable, reassuring, and grounding.
The clouds were parting off to the east, and in the gap, he saw the half moon. A daytime moon was rare treat and a good tiding! Abruptly, he stood, and howled. It wasn’t a particularly good howl, his lungs had not yet fully recovered, but he made up for the lack of volume by emoting the heartbreak over the lost ship. The long forlorn cry, lilting over the beach and echoing off the woods, reassured him further. He had work to do.
Suddenly, he noticed a body floating slowly toward him. He focused his vision and knew it was Captain Amella. Something was amiss: she floated too much out of the water. Then she rose out of the water altogether as the warforged blacksmith Klem came stomping out. With her form suspended over his head, he made for shore. Yens helped her to the ground, while Klem watched on silently. Yens, looked up at the living construct, “You did well Klem. Its good to see you hale and healthy.” His reply was only, “As for Klem, it is good to see you alive, Mister Yens.”
Amella was barely breathing. Yens had no skill at a surgery. Where was Kira? As if on cue, a massive eagle, weighing as much as grown man, swooped in toward the three castaways. Yards above the ground it began to transform into the Sea Wyvern’s other shifter, Kira. He landed mid-stride to a jog and had a wand and a poultice readied before his second step. Stoically crouching down over Amella’s still form, he said, “Cyrus is a few hundred yards from us clinging to some flotsom. I spotted him during my descent. I will be busy here, you must retrieve him.”
Yens turned on a heel and launched himself into the water. It grated on his nerves that Kira ordered him around as much as he did. And there was that other thing: Kira’s folk, the dreamsighted, had always made Yen’s a bit uneasy. Aloof they were, aloof and cold, and wise. So terribly and frighteningly wise. Yens had little use for wisdom relying more on his bold and impetuous enthusiasm. His folk, the longstrider shifters, had always relied on constant motion to preserve them, if you can move you are still alive…
The water was too cold. In all likelihood he would drown. There again was that haste that differentiated him so from Kira. He had rushed out into the water without thinking, without considering if he was outfitted properly. Just as he thought his arms would give, he reached the fragment of the topgallant that the Azurian Cyrus Morgrave was clinging to. Yens rested, a foot away from his semi-conscious friend. “Cyrus, wake up. Cyrus. Cyrus.” Not wanting to release his handholds, he head-butted Cyrus smartly.
Instantly the “good-incarnate” was fully awake, “For all that is holy, what was that for?”
“Kira needs us back on shore. If your quite finished with your nap do you think we could retire to the beach?” was Yens’ reply.
“Or course,” and with that Cyrus stood up out of the swell, and running upon the surface of water sprinted for shore.
“Oh don’t mind me! Can I at least get a tow?” Called out Yens. But Cyrus was already out of earshot, his cerulean sandals glowing brilliantly as he hurdled each breaker.
“That’s a hero for you,” came a voice behind Yens’ head. Turning suddenly and almost losing his purchase, Yens shouted, “Tsuan, you are alive. I had expected you to be onshore by now.”
The aventi Wu-Jen grinned back at him. “Nope. I had to take the helm when Amella was thrown clear. So I suppose you could say I went down with the ship.”
Yens was quite jealous of Tsuan’s recently acquired proficiency with boat piloting. Yens, a veteran sailor, was half the pilot of Tsuan-Tse. The water-mage’s innate genius and water affinity had allowed him to learn nautical tasks ten times as fast as lesser men. The frail aquan knew of Yens’ mild jealousy, and since they were friends, changed the subject by gulping down a mouthful of seawater as enthusiastically as a sailor drinks rum. “Tastes pretty good here: rich in strontium. Too bad about the Wyvern.”
“Indeed,” added Yens, “how long do you reckon it’ll take to get her up and going, Quartermaster Tse?”
Tsuan paused, tried to lighten his tone, but he couldn’t bring himself to jest about the destroyed ship. So he replied smoothly, “Yens, I don’t know that it will ever sail again.” With that they were quiet for a long while.
The water seemed like it was warming. Either that or Yens had recovered some of his vigor. Feeling better, he started paddling his makeshift life preserver toward shore. “Race?” asked the aventi treading next to him.
“Not on your life. You live in the element. How am I supposed to out swim a fish?”
“I’ll use only one arm.”
“Yes, but I can only kick, otherwise I’ll sink. I’m tired, Tsuan.”
“Oh, don’t be such a child. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of fearsome pirate or some such?” jabbed Tsuan. “How about we make the race go all the way to the edge of the jungle to make it more fair?”
They continued paddling to shore slowly. Yens grinned. He tried to pick up the pace at first hoping that Tsuan wouldn’t notice and maybe he could get a head start. Tsuan noticed, and matched him nonchalantly, effortlessly. Then Yens let go of his raft and they swam. Tsuan kept his word: he only used one arm. He still kept ahead of Yens; Yens really was exhausted. They heard chants from shore. There were several more survivors there now: the naturalist Urol Forol, Tavey Nansk the cabin boy, and that foul nobleman, Avner Marivanchy, and his horse. His horse! How had the animal survived?
Those on shore chanted as Yens and Tsuan-Tse raced toward them. Apparently Tavey had found the ship’s spyglass, guessed their task, and goaded the rest into cheering them on. Sportingly, they were evenly favoring Yens and Tsuan. Avner stood causally by and scowled, now mounted upon his horse.
When they reached the beach, Tsuan was only about ten yards or so ahead of Yens; they sprinted for the tree line up the loose sand. Yens knew then that he had already won. In the water, Tsuan had the advantage, but on land over uneven terrain…
Thud.
Dazed, Yens looked around. He had run right into Avener’s mount, because the noble had interposed himself between Yens and the forest.
“Flush it to the bottom, Avner… What is the meaning of this? .... We were in the middle of a race…” Shouted Yens, up at Avner between gasps for breath.
“Enough folly,” coldly replied the aristocrat. “Fetch water for Thunderstrike. He is thirsty.”
“What? You self important jackass, you don’t get it. I may be the boson and thus not technically an officer, but have you paid attention? The men call me sir. No one but the captain can order me around. And certainly not some… colonist.” Rebutted Yens acidly.
He knew why Avner and himself never got along. When they had set out from Sasserine, Yens had taken the second best cabin on the ship. This space had originally been earmarked for special guests, but everyone knew from the moment that Avner rode, not walked, rode onto the ship, that he was going to be a pain in the aft. So Yens had decided to have a little fun at his expense. With a few silvered words and some eloquent arguments, he was able to convince the rest of his adventuring group and Captain Amella that Cyrus and himself should take the port cabin. This was particularly clever since Cyrus had a ring that allowed him to operate without sleep. Thus Yens had one of the finest spaces virtually all to himself while Avner, noble born and rich, had to sleep before the mast in common quarters with all the other colonists and sailors.
“You forget that my Uncle sponsored this voyage and we are no longer on the Wyvern, Mr. Halfulfen. As such I feel no compunction to obey the conventions of nautical travel. You are a base born and low…”
“ROAAAR,” Avner’s soliloquy was thankfully broken short as the Jungle parted to reveal a Huge creature pushing aside the thick palms as if they were toothpicks.
“ROAAR” Its jaws were massive, with teeth like swords. It stood taller than the Wyvern’s mast on two stout legs and swung its thick tail about clearing an area of trees as wide as a farmhouse.
The naturalist Urol shouted, “It’s a Tyranosaurus Rex!” His excitement upon seeing a dinosaur for the first time suppressed by abject terror. “It’ll kill us all!”
Indeed, the creature had interposed itself between Tsuan and the rest of the group, obviously intent on having the isolated water-mage as its lunch.
Yens wove past Thunderstrike to intercept the beast. He reached down to draw his rapier… but it was gone from its scabbard.
“Sir” shouted Tavey from behind him.
Yens turned just in time to catch the hilt of his weapon as it flew at him. Good boy, Tavey: The cabin boy must have recovered the magical rapier around the same time as the spyglass.
As Yens ducked under the dinosaur it snapped at him barely missing. The sharp crunch of the bite resonated thunderously near Yen’s skull. Turning to jab up at the dinosaur’s hip he became aware of the ineffectiveness of his strike. A similar stab would have easily skewered a man, but against the dinosaur it looked like little more than a pinprick.
Then he noticed a recovered Amella approaching. As the dinosaur swung toward Yens, she plunged her rapier in its neck just as a panther, the druid in his predator form, bit into its heel. Now noticeably injured, it took a step back to assess its three opponents.
A stream of superheated steam burned its belly while a globule of acid covered its eyes. The t-rex howled in pain. Cyrus pumped his hand in the air in jubilation; he had had trepidation at throwing the acid into the melee, but he new now that the monster was so seriously injured that it had been worth it. The water mage, on the other hand, had wasted no time on celebration, deciding to place as much distance between himself and the monster as his shaky land-legs would permit after having burnt it with his steam.
As abruptly as it had arrived, the mammoth creature fled into the forest. Yens and Amella took parting stabs with their weapons, but it was still too tough to take down with two mere inches of steel. After a moment they could hear their panting over its fleeing steps and after several seconds more there was only the lapping of the waves and the stunned silence of the nearby colonists.
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