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<blockquote data-quote="rgoodbb" data-source="post: 7208738" data-attributes="member: 6801229"><p><span style="color: #008080">The Storm was furious. It had gotten all the way across the Romantic Ocean to meet up with Hurricane Hermione and it had forgotten to bring flowers. It was livid. It was now belching all of its ire and anger upon the leaf. Rain and sleet spewed and hurled down from all compass directions. Waves rumbled and rolled raggedly fifty feet high and the leaf desperately skittered and skimmed the surface skating and skirting disaster every few seconds. As it crested the cream before the crashing crescendo as it troffed and tossled and jostled and it was struggling and it was staggering sideways and leeward and windward. </span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080">The deafening roar of the wind and thunder. The crackle of light and lightning. The darkness of the deep blue below and the ever increasing walls of savage saline above. The Leaf was a river craft. <em>A Leaf on the Wind</em>. Not designed as a <em>tree in a typhoon</em>. It spaffed and it spleaned and it sagged, and submitted to the storm until eventually it succumbed with great sadness and groaning, resigning itself to its sinking submerged solitude.....</span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"><em>Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee, Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee, Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee</em></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080">.....The Sea-Stirges were out in numbers today. The bright sunny morn and the gentle crash-flumph of the waves behind and the shreeeeeeee of the receding water taking the sand back with it, all fused into a meditative rhythm. A finger moved. Then a hand. It gripped a fistfull of sand and relaxed again. As if it had taken a lungful of air and exhaled it all out. The hand was curious colour. An azure hue that was slightly more blue than green with the mildest tickle of purple veins at the wrist. </span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080">Tasha arose, loosening kelp and sand as she did. The turquoise tank turned and took stock of the shore and the land around. There was naught else in sight. The beach did not even provide any prizes of debris from the Leaf. Nothing. She was alone. She wandered and waned astride and aside the shoreline. With each step another firm affirmation of her solo survival. She was half orc she said in her mind. She was tough. She did not need friends who would easily perish. The half orc side of her told her to calm down and not be so angry, but the other side of her; the half orc was miserable, drenched in sorrow and down to the ground sad. She would prevail. She was a fighter. She would go on, alone.</span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080">...."WOOOOOHWOOOO! Hand me another piece of roast dumb-bird will you. And some of that lemon sauce. This grog is fantastic" said Albert, dancing in the cove to the music of Footnote, and wiping gravy from his chin in a haze of alcoholic buzzing bliss.</span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p><p><span style="color: #008080"></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="rgoodbb, post: 7208738, member: 6801229"] [COLOR=#008080]The Storm was furious. It had gotten all the way across the Romantic Ocean to meet up with Hurricane Hermione and it had forgotten to bring flowers. It was livid. It was now belching all of its ire and anger upon the leaf. Rain and sleet spewed and hurled down from all compass directions. Waves rumbled and rolled raggedly fifty feet high and the leaf desperately skittered and skimmed the surface skating and skirting disaster every few seconds. As it crested the cream before the crashing crescendo as it troffed and tossled and jostled and it was struggling and it was staggering sideways and leeward and windward. The deafening roar of the wind and thunder. The crackle of light and lightning. The darkness of the deep blue below and the ever increasing walls of savage saline above. The Leaf was a river craft. [I]A Leaf on the Wind[/I]. Not designed as a [I]tree in a typhoon[/I]. It spaffed and it spleaned and it sagged, and submitted to the storm until eventually it succumbed with great sadness and groaning, resigning itself to its sinking submerged solitude..... [I] Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee, Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee, Crash-Flumph-Shreeeeeeeee[/I] .....The Sea-Stirges were out in numbers today. The bright sunny morn and the gentle crash-flumph of the waves behind and the shreeeeeeee of the receding water taking the sand back with it, all fused into a meditative rhythm. A finger moved. Then a hand. It gripped a fistfull of sand and relaxed again. As if it had taken a lungful of air and exhaled it all out. The hand was curious colour. An azure hue that was slightly more blue than green with the mildest tickle of purple veins at the wrist. Tasha arose, loosening kelp and sand as she did. The turquoise tank turned and took stock of the shore and the land around. There was naught else in sight. The beach did not even provide any prizes of debris from the Leaf. Nothing. She was alone. She wandered and waned astride and aside the shoreline. With each step another firm affirmation of her solo survival. She was half orc she said in her mind. She was tough. She did not need friends who would easily perish. The half orc side of her told her to calm down and not be so angry, but the other side of her; the half orc was miserable, drenched in sorrow and down to the ground sad. She would prevail. She was a fighter. She would go on, alone. ...."WOOOOOHWOOOO! Hand me another piece of roast dumb-bird will you. And some of that lemon sauce. This grog is fantastic" said Albert, dancing in the cove to the music of Footnote, and wiping gravy from his chin in a haze of alcoholic buzzing bliss. [/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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