All the men went about their business as Pulren had commanded. Their calls and shuffling slowly retreated to the background of Pulren's hearing, however. The singing was what he was listening to. While he had no mind to leap into the sea as the myths had directed, he did find himself entranced in a way. Not because of the singing, but because of presence. Looking up briefly at his Zeltivan companion, his hand raised in comprehension as clear waves were reported. His vision also passed along the forms of the great eagles and their riders. As he looked to port and starboard, Pulren's very center and being seemed to quiet in the building storm of tension.
He knew his Father had heard his call.
When the ship leaned with the force of an unseen blow, Pulren took a knee. His trident was still in hand, his shield in hand as well. Unlike the others, he was neither panicking nor fearful. He only awaited judgment. It was clear that the sailors were right. Laviku was angered and sent his cult. Only Pulren felt himself a part of this cult. He felt more alive thean he had ever felt any other day of his life. He slid backward toward the side of the ship as it raised into the air. His head bowed as he thought only of his Father, praying to Him to accept Pulren into His fold. When the ship slammed back into the water and broke into pieces, he smirked a little at the sight of the great blue creature. Only the instinct of survival kept him from reaching out to the harbinger. Praise Be His Name.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Water left Pulren's lungs and they burned with the brine of the Bay. He could feel the warmth of fire, the first thing that came into his vision was his hands as the y were spread before him on the cool rock. Falling back to his knees, he rubbed the saltwater from his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He could make out his tridents, shield and helmet near the wall. What was much more interesting to him, however, was the clear realization of his being observed by a group of Charoda from a pool nearby in the same rocky place that he found himself. He had seen a few of the sea dwelling race, the one he had seen in the bar on that misty day in Zeltiva had come to mind. This group, however, was completely different.
He sensed the peace of their natures and felt no fear. He had been spared by his Father. That was the miracle of the day. He watched as the pair of male Charoda looked at his gear and then approached him. He rose to his feet, his hands open to his sides to show no aggression. He listened and nodded as the one chosen as speaker spoke to him. "I understand. Father Laviku has spared me and now He wishes me to prove my salt. Tell me how I can help you, brothers." Was it strange that Pulren didn't care about Holland and Ry, the Endals or the crew? His mind was free of such trappings, of his home and of the mizas he needed to buy a ship. Nothing was of any importance but this moment and the air that passed through his lungs. Father Laviku had chosen him to survive. He had chosen Pulren to step forward and prove himself. He would not disappoint his Father.
He knew his Father had heard his call.
When the ship leaned with the force of an unseen blow, Pulren took a knee. His trident was still in hand, his shield in hand as well. Unlike the others, he was neither panicking nor fearful. He only awaited judgment. It was clear that the sailors were right. Laviku was angered and sent his cult. Only Pulren felt himself a part of this cult. He felt more alive thean he had ever felt any other day of his life. He slid backward toward the side of the ship as it raised into the air. His head bowed as he thought only of his Father, praying to Him to accept Pulren into His fold. When the ship slammed back into the water and broke into pieces, he smirked a little at the sight of the great blue creature. Only the instinct of survival kept him from reaching out to the harbinger. Praise Be His Name.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Water left Pulren's lungs and they burned with the brine of the Bay. He could feel the warmth of fire, the first thing that came into his vision was his hands as the y were spread before him on the cool rock. Falling back to his knees, he rubbed the saltwater from his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He could make out his tridents, shield and helmet near the wall. What was much more interesting to him, however, was the clear realization of his being observed by a group of Charoda from a pool nearby in the same rocky place that he found himself. He had seen a few of the sea dwelling race, the one he had seen in the bar on that misty day in Zeltiva had come to mind. This group, however, was completely different.
He sensed the peace of their natures and felt no fear. He had been spared by his Father. That was the miracle of the day. He watched as the pair of male Charoda looked at his gear and then approached him. He rose to his feet, his hands open to his sides to show no aggression. He listened and nodded as the one chosen as speaker spoke to him. "I understand. Father Laviku has spared me and now He wishes me to prove my salt. Tell me how I can help you, brothers." Was it strange that Pulren didn't care about Holland and Ry, the Endals or the crew? His mind was free of such trappings, of his home and of the mizas he needed to buy a ship. Nothing was of any importance but this moment and the air that passed through his lungs. Father Laviku had chosen him to survive. He had chosen Pulren to step forward and prove himself. He would not disappoint his Father.
A Gossamer Template