Red Sky In Morning

by **Prophet** on April 20th, 2016, 2:04 am

80th of Spring, 516 AV
The Docks, Nyka
10th Bell

It was a pleasant morning in Nyka. The weather was mildly cool but warming in Syna’s light. Her rays bounced off of the moisture that splashed against the rocks and cast a red glow, soft and inviting across the sky. The fishermen had already set out for the day but there were still plenty of ships coming and going with other goods for trade. All present, however, were occupied by a commotion taking place on the south end of the marina. The crowd gathered so quickly that it was difficult to see what was taking place. There was shoving and jostling for position amongst men and women while children climbed on top of crates and crawled between the legs of adults to gain some perspective. After several chimes of nonsense and the occasional contretemps, monks showed up and began to force everyone to disperse back to their duties. It didn’t take them long and then those who had hung back for the sake of safety and reason were finally allowed to understand the ruckus.

On the end of a long pier typically reserved for larger ships sat three wind eagles. These magnificent creatures fluttered their wings and flexed the tips of feathers for both warmth and the awe aspect that often came when the great beasts were in places where they weren’t commonly seen. It was always the animals that received the attention. Outside of Wind Reach, Endals didn’t enjoy the type of status that their homeland provided. Those who traveled and traded learned this very quickly and also learned how to take advantage of it. Being inconspicuous was always an advantage so while the birds preened themselves and snapped at anyone who decided to feign bravery two of the riders slipped up the docks and into the crowd. The third rider stayed back to tend the massive birds and make nice with the monks by filling their coin purses and flasks. Being part of the only global trade guild had its perks.

The two Endals had permeated some smaller circles of discussion and gossip. They were in Nyka to trade but also to round up some extra hands for a lucrative job. Halfway across the world was a derelict vessel full of precious metals, magecrafting items and a few very private documents just waiting to be plundered. Its location is tricky, however. The eagle riders were excellent at many things but sailing and navigating the sea was not one of them. They needed sailors and Nyka was the first port on the way. After a few chimes, each man would move on to a different group.

The taller ginger warrior trickled his path away from the docks and headed towards what looked like a group of sellswords. The rough group of men were all armed, one with a trident which made the Inarta tilt his head. “Mornin’ gentlemen!” He strode up on his thin legs but the power in his chest and arms was not subtle and neither was the tamo shaft hooked to his waist. “My co’pany is need o’ some sailors, yah?” He took a few more steps closer to the bunch of ruffians and made the very subtle and very effective motion of jangling his coin purse so that the weight of it could be heard. “Word ‘round tha skies is that Nykan seafolk are a heart bunch.” With two gold teeth shining in his smile and a twinkle in his eyes, the rider looked directly at the man with the trident. “Ya up fer an adventure, mate?”

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

by **Pulren Marsh** on April 20th, 2016, 12:42 pm

The season of Spring had been like most others. Adventures, meetings, battle. This was the life Pulren was leading due to his own choices and his love of money. He found himself still trying to live up to the image of Tyler Johnson and everything that the man entailed. It was a big pair of boots to fill and Pulren had been doing his best to do just that. Nyka brought him a sense of timing that he had missed in other places. Maybe it was more that his senses had been greatly sharpened since his little visit to the Aperture and the mystical horror therein.

Whatever the case, there was now a very clear tempo in Pulren's head, moving in and out of him like the tides. Life had purpose. The tides had rolled out when he had disappeared into the holy Aperture, his sense of place and being as scattered as a school of stripers when a predator neared. This season they had rolled back in, a home being purchased and various luxuries, new clothes and gear. Harvest had come and he had been living in comfort for the most part. Training and preparation for the next tide had been a normal part of the process, a living and breathing entity in his method.

So when the great eagles had cast their long shadows over the port of Nyka, to some it was a wondrous occasion. To Pulren Marsh, it meant that the tide was going out again. This time he would go with it. That was the thing about the timing of the tides. Fishermen and sailors charted their lives around it. If one could time their own life with the same kind of natural pulse, they might find that many things that would normally seem incredible and wondrous might retain their wonder but be completely expected. There were no more tragedies or emergencies. Everything came and moved in its natural order.

He had been speaking with two mercenaries from Zeltiva. Brothers of the Martial Society, Pulren had lamented to them of how he had missed the Society and to please pass on to Tyler his best wishes. All was well among the trio and Pulren felt as natural as he could, though he did miss his home city a good deal. He spoke about the local events and the fish. The group's murmuring, though, was soon drowned out by that of the populace of the city as they all clamored to get closer to the great eagles. Magnificent creatures, he had heard tales of them, though their actual appearance didn't do the stories justice. Their fire headed riders were moving among the crowd, speaking to various men of the sea.

When the taller warrior approached them, Pulren stood up straight, smiling and greeting the man as if he was an old friend that he had not seen in a long time. He nodded in response to the greeting of morning and while the jingle jangle of the man's coin purse and his two golden teeth were the focus of the two Martial brothers, Pulren looked the man directly back into his own eyes, the cacophony of sound and talking going quite silent as he spoke back to the man. "The Nykan seafolk are hardy, that's for sure, but you really lucked out today, brother. We all happen to be Zeltivans, sons of Laviku's city. I'd be happy to pledge my trident to your cause, Sir." The true fact was that he had no choice but to follow. His eyes told the man that the contract had been offered and agreed upon.

"When do we depart?"

by **Prophet** on April 25th, 2016, 12:44 am

The Inarta man blinked as the smile left his face. He took a moment to think on the development and realized it was in the best interest of their party. He looked over the three men and nodded. “A’right, lads, we’ll leave at the sixteeth bell.” He turned and pointed a muscular arm at the pier where the birds were preening and sunning. “Have yer thangs along and be ready to fly. Ye get paid when we get done but the journey could be twenty days.” He turned his eyes to each man in turn gauging the reaction to such an undertaking. Having been satisfied, the Endal moved on and talked with a few more groups of men leaving the Zeltivans to contemplate what they had just committed to and how they should prepare.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

16th Bell
The Docks

The Inarta were loading up the wind eagles with supplies for the journey and also for trade later in their travels. There were several rough and tumble sailors with go bags and travel sacks lined up. Some looked excited and others looked nervous. Sailors were notorious for being fearless but the concept of being in the air on a bird, regardless of the proven stability of the creatures, was turning out to be overwhelming for some. A few of the salty men had already changed their minds, grabbed their gear and were walking back towards the city. Several of the Endals conferred on this and decided that it was for the better.

Once all interested parties had arrived, the Inarta who had been the one to recruit the Zeltivan men stepped forward. The eight sailors that remained closed rank in a semi-circle around the short but muscular fellow. The mischievous smile was gone from earlier and in its place rested a straight lipped expression that seemed to set the tone for his speech. “Gents and lady,” the ginger inclined his head to the lone woman in the group, “we’re about to depart for our destination. Before we do, ye need ta be aware of a few thangs.” He turned his body and used his thick arm to direct everyone’s attention to a giant mesh bag or cargo net on the back of each eagle. “First, our saddles tweren’t made to hold more than one person so ye’ll all be trav’lin’ with the gear.” Some of the men didn’t like the sound of this and two more turned on booted heels and left the dock. The Inarta’s lips curled up at left corner. Once the two defectors had well and cleared eavesdropping distance, the Endal continued. His face had a big ole grin on it now. “I’m jes jerkin’ wiff yas!” He and his compatriots let out a chuckle that exploded into belly laughter which ended up running for a few chimes. “We ‘ave special saddles that allow two o’ ye to sit behind us.”

The Inarta motioned for everyone to follow him and paired off the group two by two. Each duo had an Endal who would stow their gear and then help them climb up onto the saddle. The process for the riders was easy. They simply leapt and swung up but the eagles were leery of the new passengers and became stubborn. One even snapped at a sailor. The Inarta men were forced to soothe the creatures while the foreigners climbed up from behind the wing, along the gear and then into the saddle’s bench seat. Pulren was pushed towards the last eagle away from his Zeltivan friends. His rider was the one who had stayed behind that morning to tend the birds and his riding buddy was the woman. The Endal made sure that his load was secure, then he checked on his fellow travelers before setting himself down and strapping in. His voice was gruff and quiet compared to the more social leader. “Make sure yer straps are tight, children…”. With a word of his native tongue, the giant bird squatted down and tucked up its wings. There was a tick or two of stillness and then the powerful hind legs rocketed them into the air with incredible force aided by down thrusts from the massive wings. They were airborne and ripping through the skies in formation with the world disappearing below.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

10th of Summer, 516 AV
6th Bell
Somewhere in the Southeast corner of Cyphrus

After many days of flying, the carefree demeanor of the Endals disappeared. Camp was struck quickly without any harassment of one another as the riders were stern in their glances of anyone talking about topics that weren’t productive. It was like something in the night had spooked them and they were trying everything in their power to leave as soon as possible. The truth of the matter was much simpler. It was time to go to work. They were helpful with their passengers making sure that no one forgot any gear but helpful didn’t mean they spoke. Once everything was loaded, straps were checked and a final look was shared between the three riders. Each boarded his bird and they walked them in a line that overlooked the coast of Zindal Bay. Far off in the distance and still untouched by Syna’s light was a dark shape. The man with the gold teeth spoke so all could hear him.

“Tha’ spot on the water off yonder…tis our goal.” He ran his tongue over his teeth for a moment and sucked in some of the salty air that was blowing in with the tide. “Our last report said some unsavory types ‘ave holed up inside. We’re gonna ‘ave ta fight fer our goods.” He levels his gave to each man and woman turning slowly to make sure they each understood the implications. When his gaze fell upon Pulren, it was almost as if to say that he was counting on him and his friends to handle his problem. Once the awkward pauses and glances were finished, the man looked back ahead. “Before ya ask about plans…we’ll figure that out once we see wha’s what.” At that moment, the wind eagles ran forth and spread out to make space for their magnificent wings. A few flaps and a couple hops and the animals running start had all of them soaring upward at great speeds. The higher they flew the more they could see Syna cresting over the distant waves. The sky was once again red as it had been on the day when the eagles landed in Nyka all those miles ago. If one cared to look around, he’d see wonderful things below but it was hard to look at anything but the serious expressions of the Inarta and the slowly growing black spot far off in the waves.

NoteFeel free to take control of any and all NPCs during your camping/traveling thread. I would also recommend linking it back to this at some point. I know I'm looking forward to reading it. As always, let me know if you have any questions.

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

by **Pulren Marsh** on May 16th, 2016, 6:09 am

Just like that, Pulren's life was about to completely change. He had six bells to prepare for a twenty day journey. Parts unknown on the wings of giant eagles. His grin couldn't be weighed down with a mountain. The two mercenaries he had made acquaintance with, Holland and Ry, shared the look of urgency that Pulren passed to them, though they had no house and life to tie up. Without another word, he turned on his heel and made his way up the path to his home.

Dust swirled in the light of day as the door swung open, his eyes flashing about as he gathered what things he had and placed them all out on his bed to inventory and pack. He had a backpack, which was all well and good, but he knew he would most likely need to wear his armor and carry his trident and shield. That meant for an uncomfortable ride, but it beat being unprepared. It was still slowly trickling into his mind that soon he would be in the sky, high above Nyka and everything else. Clothing, toiletries, his journal and inks. The kukri for show, his swim gear. Each item slowly rolled and organized, packed for efficiency and to make a solid pack. He saw that the gear would be on nets on the back of the birds, so not having his stuff jostling around was probably a good idea. It occurred to him as well that he would need to change his money over and possibly make a few purchases before leaving.

With his pack hefty and full, he stood in the doorway of his Nyka home. It had barely been broken in, but that was part of the life of Pulren Marsh. Maybe one day he would find that place that would always be home. At least for now, he knew that this home would remain a shelter from the world when he wished to retire from it. A final course through the house with a few items being picked up or left accordingly and he was locking the door and heading back to the docks. Trusting the eagle riders and showing his trust, Pulren dropped off his pack before heading back into the city. His gear could be stowed with them and show his interest and it would lighten his load for his final chores. The determined gait became a slight jog once his shoulders were free of the load, his motions taking him to the money house to change from Laat back to Mizas.

He felt that the mission was important enough to gather things that he thought would not only be vital but would also provide some amount of comfort on the long journey. Two new tridents and a new wooden shield were purchased first, his existing weapons and shield very worse for wear from many seasons. The shield itself had seen so much battle in Sunberth alone that there were a few visible holes in it. He left it for kindling with the shop owner. The new tridents would be for fishing and throwing practice.He also felt it was a fine idea to purchase an odd helmet he spied. It had a leather strap to keep it on the head, though it was otherwise unassuming and covering the head and back of the head with no real adornment. His ears would still be free for hearing. Just something about being on a giant bird made him want to wear a helmet.

Without knowing a great deal about the wilds and how to survive in them, a few things did seem to strike Pulren as necessary. He would learn the rest along the way, he imagined. First, a rucksack was purchased to carry the extra items if they had to abandon the birds for some reason. A small one person tent, a bedroll, a fishing kit, an assortment of traveler's stock and rations in case fishing wasn't an option. He was finally left with two purchases he wasn't sure about but he took along anyway. He felt as if the shopkeeper was having a go at him, but he seemed sincere. A vial of water additive for brackish water and a small container of antifungal ointment finished the shopping off, though Pulren did negotiate the display of how to pack all of the purchased items into the rucksack as the man had promised. Sure enough, it did all fit snugly. He hoped he could remember the order.

He had an easy bell to spare when he returned, his additional items packed in with the rest of the gear. Stupid looking or not, he added the helmet before they departed, his lined cape covering him up as he found he would be riding with Tara, a rough and tumble kind of woman who he ended up with. She wasn't much to look at, but she was surely worth her salt as a sailor which really made her more important than Pulren as things went. Tara insisted on riding behind Pulren, which made him suspect she didn't trust his hands. No worries at all, he thought. His hands would be firmly on the straps that held him to the bird. A bit of jostling and light argument from the eagle and they were all seated. The rider looked back and smirked at Pulren. "Nice helmet, lad."

Pulren wanted to say something in return but he chose instead to grab tightly to the straps beneath him as the powerful wings pushed and lifted him from the Nykan docks. A great rush of cold wind came as the beasts hurtled up and into the air, creating a formation in the air. Pulren tried to get his bearings , looking around at the other birds and their frightened passengers. Then he looked down and saw the great ocean and the Aperture. It was truly massive from the sky and he felt a kind of ease as it grew smaller in the distance. His tearing eyes looked forward into the horizon, where they would remain.

Ledger :

by **Pulren Marsh** on June 6th, 2016, 5:14 am

10th of Summer, AV 516

At last, the long trip was finished. A new one would be beginning shortly, Pulren surmised from the terrain and the people. There was a quiet among the group from days of rigorous duties without much levity. He was standing on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the Bay and his Father. His eyes were closed as he took a great breath in through his nostrils, exhaling proudly as the sweet scent of salt moved through his body. While he longed to bathe in the ocean, he knew that he had little time to linger. The Endals were clearly over the excursion and ready to get to work, so Pulren would prepare like a good mercenary.

All his nonessential gear was finally and neatly packed into his backpack, the passing of days having depleted a little of it and making some room for efficiency. His studded leather armor went on first, followed soon by his new steel chin strap helmet and his new wooden shield. He chose only one trident, though the dark spot out on the water told him to bring his rucksack. In it he put his swim fins, his swimming goggles and his breath bag. His razor folded and slid into his boot and the kukri, as nearly useless as it was, was strapped by the scabbard to his right thigh by his leather belt. He wouldn't make a fool of himself with the short bow. A sea of grass would give him plenty of time to hone that skill. He eyed the quiver, however, thinking about how he should modify one or make a larger one for tridents. The sounds of the eagles shook him back from his martial daydreams, the long finger of the gold toothed man bringing the edge to Pulren once more.

Unsavory types. Spot on the water. Fight for our goods. Probably your lives, Pulren thought to himself. There was no mistaking the feeling of anxiety that ran through his body. Anyone who wasn't afraid was a fool. The similarity for him to The Maiden's Voyage was no mistake at all. The memories of Wave Guardsmen littering the deck and the waters surrounding it, the fire headed bitch being nearly pinned to the deck by Marsh's trident. A day of horror and a day that forged the man who sat on the back of a giant eagle on that day. Soon they were aloft and heading out over the water. Pulren prayed for an island. A ship would leave them all as easy targets if they were Reimancers, hard but not impossible ones for skilled archers. He turned his rucksack around to the front until they got wherever they were going. He wanted his sim gear easy to grab should their air travel abruptly become of the seafaring variety.

by **Prophet** on June 9th, 2016, 2:40 am

As the eagles soared over the water, it became very clear that the ship had taken a beating. It was adrift but barely. Listing to port with a busted main sail mast and several gaping holes in the bow, from the current distance one might assume the vessel had been abandoned or worse; already picked clean. The man with the gold teeth looked over his shoulder and gave Pulren a strained glance before focusing back on their objective. He guided his bird higher on the updrafts and then began a wide and slow spiral over the vessel that lowered them with each turn. The way the dire eagle tilted during his descent gave Pulren an excellent view of the ship beneath them. After many turns it still seemed that there was no one on board. The other eagles had been criss-crossing in a formation that covered many angles simultaneously so if any surprises occurred, it would be noticed.

After many chimes of watching and waiting, nothing had happened. The Endals seemed leery but one by one they all landed on the exposed deck. Men and women fanned out with watchful eyes and one of the Endals took back off on his bird to keep watch. The Endals split up taking sailors and mercenaries as they began a systematic search of the ship. The gold-toothed man rider drew a set of Tamo daggers and tapped one against Pul’s shield. “You’re with me, chief.” He winked. “Might need ya to spear us some dinner with yer fork!” He chuckled a bit and gathered three more bodies to his cause and they headed towards the stern of the ship where a half-hung door appeared to lead below deck. The chuckle and grin had vanished as he got closer to the door.

With great caution they entered the cabin. Sweat beaded up on the man’s forehead then ran in small drops along the bridge of his nose. Once inside he motioned with daggers for everyone to spread out and search the room. A fistful of chimes would pass and some of the sailors would eyeball loot for later but none was taken at this moment for there was another door which must certainly lead down below. The present cabin was littered with normal items for a three-masted galley. If one knew enough, he might suspect they were in the quartermaster’s chambers. Still, onward they marched into the lower hold.

Aside from the damage that wasn’t seen from above, nothing appeared to be out of place. In fact, most of the main cargo was intact; herbs in crates, alcohol, silks, dried meat, seasonings by the jar and even a few heavy boxes of some kind of ore that was probably used for smelting. The party wound its way back up to the main deck where they rejoined the others. The third eagle had returned and was explaining that he hadn’t seen sign of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. The three red-heads agreed that they needed to proceed as planned. The biggest turned to the men and women who were filed in an arc around them awaiting instructions.

“Gather up all of the hold and bring it to the deck. We load it on the birds and we’ll be off.” He finished speaking and raised his eyebrows when no one moved. One of the older sailors scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.

“No such luck, boy.” He cleared his throat, the sound of phlegm heavy in the noise. “We do that and ya’ll jes’ leave us here.” He looked at some of his comrades who began to nod and understand where the train of thought was headed. “We steer this boat to port for ye, take our cut and then we load the rest up as it pleases ya.” Shouts and cheers followed the speech.

In Wind Reach, Endals were the highest members of society. The man was not used to insubordination. The three men were heavily outnumbered and they didn’t wish to risk their eagles against this lot. The gold-toothed man sneered and licked his canine while he stared at the group. The large man stepped forth. “Very well, Claridon is north due northeast.” He narrowed his gaze at the old man. “We agree to your terms.” More shouts and cheers from the crew but they were quickly silenced by a loud call from one of the eagles. The Endals went to their birds and mounted up. “Let’s go! Get this ptchin’ boat to shore!” In truth, it shouldn’t be too hard of they could turn the vessel. The shoreline was in sight and Claridon was probably no more than half a day’s sail if they could fill the jib sails with a strong gust or two.

NoteFeel free to take your liberties with exploration and what you find. Just make sure you end up getting the ship headed in the right direction.

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

by **Pulren Marsh** on June 9th, 2016, 10:55 pm

As they flew over the ship, Pulren and the other mercenaries set their battle trained eyes on the ship. It had been through something, for sure. The look of the gold toothed Endal confirmed the mutual concern that the goods were already taken. A few things concerned Marsh, however, though he kept his comments to himself until they landed. What on Mizahar could damage a ship so? Where were the crew or any of the previous occupants? No dead bodies. It didn't bode well, regardless.

He appreciated the long and steady descent. The Endals no doubt treasured their feathered friends and wished no ill to come upon them. Eventually they all landed on the deck, however. Pulren smirked at the Endal's comment, his shield up and trident at the ready. Sweat didn't drop from his face, as he was happy to be on the ground. He was fully aware that they were in a dangerous situation, though. He just didn't know how dangerous yet.

Holland and Ry already knew the score, so Pulren didn't watch them too closely. The sailors had greedy eyes, as most do, always ready to provide themselves with a bonus of pilfered goods.The Zeltivan felt that was one step above banditry. An entire circuit showed some damage but the goods of the ship were still intact and ready to travel. While this was a blessing for their pay, it only made the questions come in droves now. Pulren couldn't get it to fit in his mind. Why wouldn't they take the goods? Where were the bodies? Looking at the other two mercs, it was clear they had the same feelings that he did. He made a single finger of pause to them until the grand tour was over.

Once back on deck, the petty squabbles of the sailors didn't surprise Pulren. Why would they fly off and abandon everyone? There was no way that ore would be able to be lifted by the birds anyway. Once it was all decided, Pulren set about to getting everyone in line. While he had less sailing experience than the Endals, he didn't have to let anyone know it. He had plenty of experience in getting people in line from his Wave Guard days. "Listen up!" His booming voice commanded the attention of a few, but the folded arm man seemed to scoff and spit just as he had with the Endals.

Pulren pointed at him. "Old timer, I can see you have the most deck time on ye, aye?"The man puffed his chest out and nodded. "Good. You put everyone to assignments and you have the deck. Me and the other MArtial Society brothers will be down below bailin water and tryin to patch holes. We'll stay out of yer way but hear me once. There will be no lootin of this vessel. Any lootin seen by myself or my brothers will be seen as piracy and dealt with accordingly. When we get to port, I seriously doubt the Endals want every little thing, so you can work that out there. Til then, we are all sailin level. Got me?!"

A greener lad actually hollered, "Yes Sir!", which soon got him laughed at, but the rest seemed to examine the weapons and the sureness in the eyes of the three mercenaries and get the drift. As they descended below deck, he could hear the orders being called out to drop sails and bring her about. Holland and Ry looked at Pulren. "Are you truly under Tyler Johnson's command?" Pulren looked back at them. "I was a dues paying member until I left the city. When I return , I assume I will be back in the employ of the Society. Until then, I Will abide by your rules." This seemed to relax the pair. Holland raised his chin and asked, "what did ye want to tell us before?"

They went one deck deeper, the water ankle deep. Passing some buckets out to them so they could set to bailing, Pulren asked what had been burning in his brain. "Where are the bodies? What bandits would wreck a ship, not steal any goods and not leave one drop of blood? None of this makes a lick of sense, men." They started passing the buckets and dumping them up above, Pulren in the water, Holland mid deck and Ry on top. It kept them busy, watchful and observant of any changes on the ship. Pulren was very wary.

by **Prophet** on June 12th, 2016, 9:26 pm

Pulren’s method of handling the men worked flawlessly. Everyone went to work and progress was almost instant. As the vessel came about and headed back towards the mainland, the Zeltivans with the clever tactician couldn’t answer his questions for they had the same ones running through their mind. Holland looked to Ry and then to Pulren as they continued to remove what water they could. “It seems that some men are too blinded by greed to see the snake sitting in the fountain.” He offered it as an agreement more than anything else. The old salties on deck didn’t seem to bat an eye at the odd circumstances surrounding the vessel. Things were quiet aside from the barking of orders for nearly a bell. Pulren and his partners had managed to bail a substantial amount of water from the bowels of the ship and were preparing to take a break when a whistle sounded from somewhere in the remaining sails. It was a call of general quarters and any man worth his salt knew it well.

Holland and Ry scampered up the rickety steps to the aft gunwhale where many-a man were gathered and looking overboard. There was no cursing or yelling but it had been replaced by whispers, hushed warnings and the occasional hat being placed over the heart. In the water below was a strange and eerie sight that lit fears and childhood stories with blazing pyres of reality. Men’s clothes, most in the fashion of sailors and Svefra floated along the water in a frothy line of foam that glimmered pink when Syna’s light kissed it just right. There was a young lad who couldn’t stomach the thoughts in his mind and ran to the other side of the ship to wretch and purge himself of breakfast.

Ry was about to say something when Holland stopped him. The man was staring intently at a cluster of four men near the entrance to the quartermaster’s chambers. Holland tapped Pulren to get his attention as well. With unspoken communication, the Zeltivans shot looks back and forth to one another asking and answering questions. Ry and Holland seemed firm in the resolve to act as hands went to weapons with Ry edging closer to the shadow of the sails. It seemed that the group of men conversing had given them the idea that the crew was going to go their own way with the goods and deal with the Inarta. There was no way to know for sure but one man kept making motions akin to archery and pointing towards the cabin where several heavy harpoons were stashed. Holland looked to Pulren with a look asking very clearly if he was in or out. The time to act had come.

Yet, as life always does, something else occurred. The whispers and small congregations of sailors were interrupted by a light, sweet voice bouncing over the waves. The singing was melodic, inviting and absolutely wonderful. Chills ran up men’s spines and some began to drift with the rhythm. The song grew louder and clearer as the ship moved clumsily over the small waves. When the lapping of crests against the hull joined in on the chorus, it seemed to fill the morning with the music. If one listened closely, there were three voices and all in perfect tune with one another filling every note with the promise of love, warmth and home. Ry looked terrified and Holland as well as many other sailors. It seemed that as many felt touched by the majestic symphony just as many felt a horrid sense of dread. All sea-going cultures had stories of beasts that sang beautiful serenades to lure men to their deaths. A splash from the far side of the deck made everyone turn. The young man who had gotten ill was no longer there. A choked cry from behind the largest group sent everyone sprawling away from the edge of the ship. A second lad had been pulled overboard but no one saw a thing. A call rang out from the old seadog. “To arms!”

Swords and harpoons were drawn but no one was brave enough to go near the gunwhales. It seemed that each was waiting for someone else to go first. Holland caught Ry sneaking back towards the steps. They whispered back and forth for a moment and then looked to Pulren. “C’mon! I bet we can see it through one of the holes…” if asked what ‘it’ referred to, Holland’s face would light up. “The monster!”

Are you ready to learn your fate?

A Firenze Template

by **Pulren Marsh** on June 13th, 2016, 5:39 am

Chimes passed with little to speak of between the three mercenaries, the effort of slinging a full bucket up without spilling much of the contents keeping the majority of their concentration, not to mention the situation they were all surmising in a way that only men who faced death could. With a smile. The analogy used by Holland was perfect and Pulren committed it to memory so that he could remember it and share it with others. Oh, the people he had seen die of snakebites. The three men let the monotony of the bailing of water and the sounds above take their minds to wherever they went, the physical actions allowing automatic thought to go to the wayside. Sweat was pouring as the water in the buckets when the whistle came.

Exchanging bucket for shield and trident, Pulren drew himself up on the deck with the others, surveying the scene. Something was wrong in the air. It was the same kind of air that had blown in off of the tides that washed Sahova's dark beaches when everything went bottoms up there. Being surrounded by Laviku on all sides, Pulren suspected that his Father was warning him and urging him to be wary. Only the tap of his mate brought him back from his musings. It seemed that there could be a mutinous movement going on among the sailors. This made the situation very clear in Pulren's mind. Some kind of madness was loose on deck and it was going to consume the lot of them.

Nodding at the other mercs, he lifted his trident and began to move toward the conspirators when the song came lilting over the waves. They all turned to look off into the direction of the sweetest voices. Uncle Pal had told him several times about voices such as these that welcomed sailors to volunteer to drown. Pulren had waved it off as drunken rambling. He apologized to his dead uncle just as the splash came and the boy went with it. When the call to arms came, Pulren's mind went directly into battle mode.His least concern was the sea beneath the boat, though it was the prominent fear for the others. Laviku was his God and he had done Him no wrong. Pulren had been faithful for his whole life to the Sea Father and today would be no different. When it appeared, however, that no man would take a stand, Pulren again let the Uncle speak for him, commanding actions in a booming and sure voice.

"Ry, get up in the rigging with your bow and spot it. Holland, help the others pass out the harpoons. Everyone who won't fight, lash yourself to your station and continue to sail to land. We aren't that far out and we needn't lose what winds Zulrav has blessed us with. For those who will take up bow or harpoon, get yourselves up in the rigging. No one go near the edge of the deck!" As footfalls began thumping across deck and coils of rope came out, he looked to the Endals. "For the sakes of your lives and the Gods above, get off of this ship and provide air support! Ye have all of our gear and the only rescue we may still have!" That only left Pulren to do the only thing that made any sense to him.Dropping to one knee with trident in hand and shield on the deck, he bowed his head, his words loud and clear.

"Father Laviku! I am your eternal servant, Pulren Marsh! Father, I know not how we have wronged you but I pray that those you have taken will suffice as a sacrifice! I pray to You that we may leave in peace and make landfall, so as not to trespass against You further!If it is in Your wisdom that we must face the gauntlet to prove our salt, so be it! I trust in You, Great Sea Father! Ye who have brone me up and kept me from setting adrift. Ye who have lifted me in high tides and provided passage with low. I pray to ye now, Father! Spare us!"

With that said, he then rose to his feet and raised his arms and armor.

by **Prophet** on June 20th, 2016, 12:18 am

Sailors and fighters did as they were told. As Pulren barked orders, he found his logic echoed by the old sea dog who was corralling men near a box on the starboard side. Harpoons were being dispersed and lines were being set. Ry was halfway down the steps but ran up and to the poopdeck and began scaling the Mizzenmast. The main mast was gone but this made the Mizzen an even better choice for observation. While the rigging was a mess, it made for an easy climb and it wasn’t long before Ry called back down to his comrade. “Clear waves, mate!” Several younger sailors noticed Pulren’s posture of prayer and began to say their own in hopes that the great god of the seas would show them mercy.

The singing only grew louder as time wore on and the men were strung out across the main deck with eyes outward. Whatever was waiting for them seemed to be invisible but was always present. If one had the right kind of ear, he might notice the hiss and occasional snarl that floated underneath the beautiful melody. The sky remained clear as the Endals circled on their eagles. Several times they signaled down to the ship below that all was well. Any man worth his salt knew that this was not the case. If all was well, there’d be no holes in the ship, a full set of masts and kelp beer would be flowing from the pitchers of gorgeous women with no real morals. It had been over twenty chimes since the singing had first been heard and the two men taken overboard. The question on everyone’s mind was certainly ‘what was the singing?’ but a few more observant types would be asking ‘where had all the birds gone?’ There wasn’t a gull or pelican for miles and being this close to shore, a ship should be half swamped with the talkative avians.

Suddenly, the ship pitched to the port side and let out a deep groan like it had run aground of a reef. The slight sound of splintering beams pierced the silence. The singing had stopped almost at the same moment that the ship went dead in the water. The burly old seadog and his right hand looked at each other with great confusion. “There’s no reefs here!”

“I know that, ya fool!” The second whispered gruffly. He was shaking so badly that his harpoon fell to the deck. The tanned and weathered skin looked as pale as a winter sky. “We’ve angered the Father of Blue and now he’s sent his cult after us!” The man was about to start a rant when his companion busted him upside the back of his head with the stock of a harpoon. The blow dropped the man to the deck with bruise and some blood but little worse for wear.

“Too much grog for that man…” The old sailor eyed several upstarts looking as if to run and the gaze seemed to freeze them in their tracks. He then nodded to Pulren as if acknowledging a need for orders. Sadly, there was not to be time for such things. The ship rose straight up with a strange sucking sound as water poured from the damaged hull back into the bay. The last thing anyone heard was the shouting of an Endal. It sounded like… “Ruuuuunnnn!!!”

The ship was slammed back against the waves on its starboard side rending the rickety vessel into driftwood in an instant. Men screamed, masts and sails went flying and only the rich smell of salty water and a heavy fish smell managed to permeate the chaos. The bulk of the wreck was turned back towards the port gunwhale and in the change of momentum, a massive blue creature passed beneath the ship. It was so big that its beginning and end could not be seen before a huge tail, wide and marked by opalescent barbs along the tip smashed through the main deck. This sent every single one of the remaining sailors into the air or into the waves. The entire incident was over in a chime and the last thing any of them would see would be the fading light on the surface as the hunks of wreckage and a strange current sucked them down…down…down into the cold murky depths.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pulren would wake up coughing up water from his lungs; his tissue burning in a desperate search for air. Instead of drowning in the bay with the bits and pieces of a derelict ship and a ragtag crew, he was sitting on a large flat rock that was being warmed by a small fire nearby. His helmet, shield and two tridents were propped up against the wall of a cave some fifteen feet from his body. It was hard to say how large the room was because the light from the fire provided very little visibility beyond his little corner. One thing that was plainly visible was the congregation of eyes that looked up from a distance. The cave had a pool to Pulren’s right where over a dozen Charboda were lingering and watching him while whispering in their own language.

A pair of larger, possible male member of the species stood near Pulren’s weapons and a handful of packs from the sailing crew. One was a deep shade of blue and the other more of a grey green but both seemed to be more aged than the rest and calm in the presence of the human. After a few exchanges with each other and the rest of the merfolk, the greener of the two made several small steps towards the smooth rock where Pulren lied. His Common was rough but easy to understand even though the soft voice reverberated against the stone walls and the soft lapping waves. “Peace, human. We save you. Mean you no harm.” He held his webbed hands up to show that he was unarmed and spoke again. “Safe here but danger swims.” The creature’s face seemed to fall under a wicked shadow as he said this second part. A hush fell over the group as well. Could they be maligned to the thing that sunk the ship? Or was this all a ruse? Pulren was soon to find out.

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A Firenze Template

Quest Red Sky In Morning