Upheavals of Mind, Body, and Water (Pash'nar)

[Norae]

Timestamp: Early Spring 510 AV
Location: A bright island off the coast of Falyndar

The Oasis was anchored on a long line and Norae was certain that's what saved her ship when the earth shook beneath her feet and the water on the beach pulled itself well out leaving almost 50 yards of sea floor exposed briefly to the air. She'd never seen such a thing and rose to her feet as the shaking stopped and her camp settled around her. The Oasis, tethered off shore, was resting on a patch of rock covered with barnacles and a whole host of other life. It was the strangest thing.

"What in Syna's name....?" She said, rising slowly and staring at the water receding. The day was peaceful, uneventful before the shaking, and Norae had thought nothing was wrong. it was too beautiful of a day to be worried for sure, and it was definitely a place where there were no threats to her.

Except this.

Primordial fear filled her unexpectedly. It was like a memory that had no place in her mind yet was still there dredged up from someone deep and dark. Run. Instinct told her to run but she couldn't. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground and her eyes locked to what she was seeing. Where did the water go?

And then she saw it, in the distance, a huge rolling wave coming up and ... that's where the water went. The wave coming had stolen it, robbed its energy, and grown monstrous. Her first thought was for The Oasis, but the line was long... it would weather. But her? She'd be swept away.

Norae turned and ran into the jungle that was so prominent on the Island. And deep down she knew she ran for her life.

[Pash'nar]

Pash'nar was never too comfortable about drifting too close to the coast of Fylandar unless he had good reason to be there. While he didn't mind running into the charodae on occasion, it wasn't like he could visit their city. Not unless he wished such an underwater trip to be some dramatic close to his fistful of decades existing. Luckily, he wasn't really too close to the mainland itself, though it loomed far on the undulating horizon. It was far enough to feel safe, but close enough for the sea to be shallow and a lovely azure shade. He knew that some pretty decent fishing could be found in the warm, clear waters surrounding the outlying islands if one bothered to take some time and look for it. It was a great way to have some food variety stocked before heading back up toward the inland parts of the Suvan. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be at the moment but tossing a few lines off the stern and waiting for a bite, dozing in the shade under his mast with the lush scenery of a few small jungle-coated islands within view. Nope. Nothing at all. No complaints about that, either. The tattooed sailor was more than just half-asleep when he heard the noise. It was a strange, disturbing sound from somewhere deep underwater, a rumble that was too low to belong to some sea creature but too loud to be harmless. It lasted quite some time, and it was enough to convince Pash to stagger to his feet and peer around. The water looked the same … well, for a moment. Birds flew away from the faint hints of jungle on the closest island in clouds, fleeing something unseen. He peered over the bilge rail of his old casinor, tide pool gaze squinting into the water. The lush green sea weed undulated to what seemed like their normal rhythm for a few chimes, but as he watched, they all bowed over as if pushed by a sudden current. Then, his ship lurched, tugged by the same rushing motion of the water. He cursed in surprise, a string of sea-worthy words as he was dragged in the swell despite his anchor. This was not a good sign. He had nowhere to go. The sea seemed to swell with a rushing sound, and Pash debated holing up belowdecks as his casinor rose in the water. The swell grew and he heard old wood groan in protest in the now-sandy sea water as it slowed in it's outward motion. The dark-haired navigator staggered nervously across his deck, gripping the boom and mainsail line before slipping into his hatch. Choosing to stay in the stairwell, he simply closed the door behind him and sat down, attempting to figure out the best way to hunker down for whatever the petch was going on. It felt like some storm, but Syna's brightness still beat down overhead. The rumbling must have been something. Something terrible enough to make Laviku's realm shift as well. The casinor lurched again, this time in the opposite direction, water rushing against worn wood. He could tell the surge was moving quickly, feeling his stomach catch in his chest as he found a grip on the rail of his stairs with inked hands, bare feet attempting to press firmly against the steps below. Everything tilted at an impossible angle and he soon heard the scrape of shells and sand against wood. Some thumps, too. Something snapped topside, and he could only hope it wasn't a mast. Maybe a line or two. One glass square that served as a skylight for his cabin squealed and cracked, thankfully not shattering, but angry seawater still rushed in a bit. The casinor tilted a bit more, smashing Pash against one side of his stairwell, sharp pain blossoming across the side of his head and shoulder as he hit is own ceiling and his cabin door. The Timeless groaned some more, shuddering as the surge tossed it against the beach and dragged it up the shore, though the tattooed sailor had no petching clue what was going on. It could have been a new Valterran for all he knew, curled at an angle he'd never experienced in his stairwell and seeing stars. Eventually, with a rumbling jolt and the hiss of rushing water, the casinor came to a stop. Somewhere. Pash'nar thought it best to just lay in his stairwell for a while, his boat apparently caught on its side. Hopefully on a beach. Hopefully not beyond repair. His charts were scattered across his cabin and a bit of food had tumbled from its proper place in his little kitchen. Water dripped from his cracked window. His hull seemed intact, and for that he muttered one of his more impressive prayers of thanks to Laviku—it was more than one sentence at least—before sliding from his precarious position and attempting to open his cabin door. It swung open quite willingly, too willingly in fact, and the dark-haired navigator found himself tossed ungracefully out of his stairwell, past his deck, and straight onto the debris-laden, wet beach with a crunch and a moan. He decided laying in the sand for a while, painfully considering his predicament, seemed like a good plan for the moment. So he did. Maybe staying conscious would be a bonus. He watched a fish flop on the sand out of the corner of his eye, helpless. Hopefully he wasn't run aground out of the reach of the tide.