Quest How to Avoid Being Fish Food

[Chameleon]

51st Spring 518

They had warned him not to go fishing. They had warned him, but the fisherman hadn’t listened. He had mouths to feed back in Alvadas, a pregnant wife and three bundles of mischief that clamoured for food constantly. A sister, whose birthday was coming up. A roof that needed fixing before they were hit by worse weather. The foolish tales of strange sea creatures – that was a bad coincidence for the sailors which had encountered it, not something to be feared.

Besides, the sea was smooth and his fishing boat cut clean through the rose-coloured water that caught the morning sun. Above, a colony of seagulls spread their wings before sinking low to brush against the sides of the boat. One moved to sit on top of the sail, fluffing its tail before realising the food was locked up and launching back up into the air.

What was there to worry about?

Having left the port to his usual fishing grounds, the fisherman let the wind catch in his sails and drift him to nice spot of deep blue. With a whistle in his throat, he scanned the waters, watching the shadows shift beneath him and decided it was far enough. Down came the sail, out came the net and he began to search the waters.

There was a tremble and the man caught himself on the side of the boat. Just an odd wave, he decided, pulling the sail back out slightly to shift the angle the boat sat in the water. But then the boat trembled again he was certain he hadn’t seen any waves that were big enough to be noticeable beyond a gentle rocking. The fisherman dropped his whistling, glancing across the sheen of water. Something wasn’t right - the fish that he had seen before had scattered, leaving gaping holes where shoals had previously been swimming.

The boat shook again, this time much more aggressively than before. The fisherman stumbled forward, wrapped a blistered hand around one of the ropes and clung on tightly. Something hit into his boat. Somethings – he could see their shadowy figures, large shapeless masses that circled his boat. They seemed intent in knocking it into the water.

Over the shakes of his boat, the fisherman pulled himself towards the equipment at the back. As he moved, he slid across the deck, unable to find grip on the slippery surface. But at last he reached it, fingers tightening around a battered wooden handle. Lifting the harpoon upon into the air, he prepared himself to launch it.

///

The woman had one child in her arms, two more running around her feet (she had tried hissing at them to stay still, but had long given up) and one more on the way, from the looks of her bulging stomach. But despite the worry that should have been flooding her face, she watched the group with passiveness, happy to observe but not be part of the action. Running to and from her was her sister-in-law, whispering words of encouragement and support that didn’t seem to be entirely necessary.

“Wharf’s found us a boat now, don’t you worry. We’ll find your husband,” she reassured, darting away again to help load it. Chimes later she returned, this time carrying a crate that had been cracked open a tad, “The Primrose have offered this up for us, but we’ve got more than enough food, so if you want, you can take it.”

Finnuala – known to most as Finn, the pearl diver – deposited the crate near her sister-in-law’s feet and rushed back to the ship, knowing the preparations had already taken too long. Dairne Roughcurrent, the ship’s owner who had been reluctantly forced into the whole affair, was packing harpoon bolts tightly into their case. He was an older man, from the visiting Svefra pod that were avoiding the seas after all that had happened. Out of everyone in the port, he was the only one who had a boat large enough to withstand some sort of attack, with a harpoon mounted to the front and plenty of space for a crew. Plenty of space for the supplies – donated by everyone who wasn’t going – too. Having packed the bolts properly, he turned to the other weapons – a few tridents – and heaved them over his broad shoulders, throwing his dirty blonde dreadlocks over the other shoulder. The staffs rubbed against his bare shoulders, but he wouldn’t have covered the wave-like gnosis that spread across them for anything.

Beside the boat swam a young Charoda, playing the dolphin that always followed Dairne. Tenui was cerulean coloured, with rubbery skin and hair-like fins running across his head and back and bright eyes that caught the sun before he dived back out of sight. He had been bribed by the reward of glory (and a lot of money) and somehow had missed the danger that was waiting out there for them.

The port seemed to soften in their work with the approach of Aysu the Sea. Her tentacled hair and arms caught their attention, leaving preparations for a moment. Beside her, she led the two other volunteers. Both girls had heritage in the water, Avela with her race and Dovey with her father, so the Speaker had little hesitations with sending them off.

“A few fishermen have been complaining of something in the waters. Fish have become more scarce and they say the seas isn’t behaving... currents have changed, dolphin pods disappeared, waves larger than usual. And now her brother-” she gestured towards the young woman, whose dark hair was tied up in a long braid, whose tall and thin frame looked streamlined in the water but fragile as she pulled a barrel of water onto the ship, who was known as Finn by chance but it suited her, “her brother left to fish one morning and hasn’t returned. We don’t know what’s out there, but we want to find out. You’ll accompany those three and try and figure it out. I’m sure you’ll pick up sailing quick, if you don’t know already.”

At her approach, Tenui rose up out of the water and rested his chin against the side of the dock, body half in the water. “Miss Sea, reporting for duty!” he called out, miming a salute with a grin plastered to his face, “These are the landlubbers? Get them on board, we’re about to sail!”

There wasn’t much chance for them to back out or ask more question or demand something from the Speaker. Finn came to grab their things, if they had thought to bring any, and Dairne waved them onto the ship.

“Bow, stern, port, starboard” he pointed front, back, left then right, before gesturing to the sails, first the one at the front, then the one behind, “Jib and mainsail. If I say line, I mean a rope. If you want to know more, just ask. I’m sure I can help. Maybe even Finn too.” He glanced at the woman who was now sprinting around the ship, pulling everything into place and tying it down. “Tenui!” he finally called, grabbing the attention of the Charoda, “We’re off!”

With a nod, he began to hoist the sails, working quickly to untie and tie ropes and get the sails to stop flapping. “Mind the boom!” he called, before letting the support for the mainsail shift across the boat. Anyone who wasn’t ready for it would get a nice slap to their head.

And they were off. The ship was really running, the sheer power of the wind driving her forward. Waves streamed from the sides of the boat, between which the dolphin and Charoda danced, while Finn stopped for a moment in awe of the movement of the sea. For a split second there was calm, then the Svefra began shouting orders again.

“Konti, watch the edges of the sails – if they start to luff, tighten the sail sheet and let me know. Brownie, watch the telltales.” He pointed with one hand to the black ribbon tied as a wind indicator. “Is she pointed towards the mainsail? Get the jib wing-on-wing. There’s a whisker pole on the clew of the jib to help you.”

He gave a smile, planting his hand on the tiller. “Finn? Where are we headed? Hurry up with that navigation.”

The woman glanced up from where she sat like a knot with a map and dividers in hand. “In a moment. Tenui, see anything?”

The Charoda replied in the negative.

“Well, we’re nowhere yet..” the Svefra mumbled, watching the city slip into the horizon. They had plenty of sea to see what Laviku planned to throw at them. And he was not looking forward to whenever that happened.

[Avela]

Avela couldn't believe that she was doing this again. After the utter disaster of her first trip outside of the walls, and her interaction with the Seamstress at the scene of Tobin's murder, the last thing she should have wanted to do was leave Alvadas. But then Aysu the Sea had started putting on performances, trying to recruit people to search for a missing fisherman on the Suvan Sea, and Avela hadn't been able to stop thinking. The sea, the vast expanse of the Suvan Sea. She'd never been out there. She'd only been as far as small trips swimming in the Rainbow Shells.

What would it be like to be on the sea? Away from Alvadas, away from everything?

The thought kept her up at night, and when she wasn't dreaming of the sea, she was thinking about the man. The one who had gone missing, leaving behind three children and a fourth on the way. Gods, what if that had been her family? What if it had been her father who was missing? Avela would want someone to help them, wouldn't she? If Avela could do something to help him, she had to, didn't she?

It wouldn't be like the last time. She'd be at sea, and she knew she could swim if nothing else.

After agonizing on it for the rest of the night, Avela had volunteered, and the next thing she knew, she was being led by Aysu to the Patchwork Port. She hadn't been sure what to bring, so she'd brought a bag with a change of clothes. She'd also brought her shortbow, feeling like it might be a good idea to be armed even if she wasn't sure how good she would do, and her little knife. Remembering her experience with Asterope above the Rainbow Shells, she'd also dressed light, keeping her clothes to a shirt and trousers, with her hair tied back in case she had to get into the water quickly. She wore her boots, but she was prepared to shuck them off the second swimming became a real possibility.

She was scared, but also oddly excited. It would be her first time truly at sea, even if they weren't going very far. Her first time on a ship like this.

Her mother had gotten on a ship like this once, Avela thought. A ship that had taken her to the Patchwork Port. Avela had read it in her journal--she was getting better at understanding Kontinese now.

She'd been expecting the sight of the woman and her children, and so had steeled herself against that, promising that she would do whatever she could to bring the fisherman back. She hadn't been expecting the sheer amount of industry that happened as soon as they had stepped on the boat.

It was like watching artistry in motion. Everyone knew exactly where they were supposed to go and what they were supposed to do, and Avela stared, dumbfounded for a moment, as everyone sprang to their places, scrambling all over the vessel. She did manage to duck as the boom swung its way across the deck, but just barely, her heart pounding as the large structure swung overhead.

Avela jumped as Dairne addressed her, turning towards him. "M-Me?" she asked, pointing at herself. It was a stupid question to ask - there weren't any other Konti on board. Avela asked it, though, because she found herself a little - no, very overwhelmed. She felt like she understood almost none of that.

"U-Um, what does 'luff' mean?" she asked. "And how do I tighten the sail sheet?"

She'd half-expected Dairne to snap at her for asking a stupid question, so she was pleasantly surprised when the Svefra walked over to her instead, gesturing at the sails. "Luff just means they're starting to move," he said. "Flapping in the wind and all that. It means they're not tight enough. Pull on this line to tighten them."

He grabbed one of the ropes and handed it to Avela. The Konti nodded quickly, holding on to it tightly and keeping her eyes on the sails. As she saw them start to flap in the wind, she pulled on the line, trying her best to keep the line taut and the sail tight.

She couldn't help but feel a thrill as she felt the boat move beneath her, tied to the motion of the sea, but she wondered how obvious it was that she didn't know what she was doing.

OOCI hope it was okay for me to control Dairne a little in my post. I think that's what you meant when you said to use the NPCs, but if not, just let me know!

Template by Sevaan
"Common" "Kontinese"
(•̀o•́)ง

~Avela~

[Dovey]

51 Spring, 518 AV
"Speech"
"Others"

Trotting down the docks beside the tentacly Aysu the Sea, Dovey wondered why the petch she had volunteered for this.

Watching Aysu's performance a couple of days ago, it had seemed like a good idea. She supposed that was the point of the Speakers' performances; they drew you in, dazzled you with the spectacle in quintessentially Alvad fashion, and got you to agree to things you'd never have signed up for had you not been caught in the grip of this city's madness.

She had never been out to sea! Not since the first few days after her birth - and yet that had been exactly the allure which had drawn her, watching the spinning madness of Aysu's storytelling and her request. Find the lost fisherman for his family's sake, just like a fairytale. Find the lost fisherman and learn what your father never taught you, her own traitorous mind had joined in. Learn what Da meant when he spoke of his ship with a bone in her teeth, of the sea rolling alive beneath you. She had approached Aysu right then and volunteered herself, searching out the Bizarre before she went home that night and purchasing a few things she thought she'd need. New clothes, a tunic and trousers, since her usual long skirts might be caught in something shipboard and certainly weren't conducive to swimming. A scabbard and dagger, for safety. She was wearing the outfit and the dagger hung on a belt at her waist, but now she was actually here it all felt feeble. Dressing the part couldn't replace actual experience, and half-Svefra or no, she had exactly none of that.

She would have to hope some ancestral skills miraculously revealed themselves.

As they neared the water, Aysu explained the situation in more detail. Dovey nodded and was about to speak, but suddenly found herself at the center of a swarm of activity. The sister of the missing man authoritatively took Dovey's pack - it held only the things it always carried, flint and steel, comb and soap and razor, and a few candles - and carried them aboard ship. Dovey followed her, shepherded along with her fellow volunteer onto the deck.

Bow, stern, port, starboard. Dutifully she followed the captain's hand as he pointed in each direction, but her spirits rose incrementally; she knew those terms and their meanings, knew them from her father's ocean tales. Jib and mainsail she recognized too, though she hadn't known which was which - jib in front, mainsail back, she affirmed mentally - and lines she knew too. Perhaps this wouldn't be so hard after all, perhaps it would be as if she were a character in one of Da's stories...

She watched in wonder as the captain hoisted the sails, his hands working like magic to bring them up the masts, as they flapped and snapped and finally bellied out with the wind. "Mind the boom!" and she ducked, she knew booms were something you ducked, and looking up as the long pole swung overhead she learned what the infamous head-smacker actually was. Then the ship leapt forward in the waters and, stumbling a little, Dovey caught her breath in wonder at the salt wind in her face, at the bucking of the deck like a horse beneath her.

Then the captain was barking orders, and all her erstwhile trepidation crashed back into her like a wave.

He spoke to the Konti first, and already Dovey was lost, but then when he addressed her (she hardly found a moment to bristle at Brownie) she became truly bewildered. Telltales? Wing-on-wing? Whisker pole? Clew? She hardly knew what he wanted her to do, let alone how to do it.

All right, girl, focus. Calm yourself. She was here now, and she would just have to adapt, that was all. Telltales - that ribbon he had pointed at. If the ribbon pointed at the mainsail - which sail was that, yes, the one farther back - then Dovey was to get the jib, the other sail, 'wing-on-wing'. She had no way to puzzle out that meaning. And the rest of the terms were just as bad. Why couldn't sailors talk plain?

She would have to ask. The Konti was already seeking her own clarification, so at least Dovey wasn't the only clueless one aboard. Once the captain finished advising the other landlubber, Dovey spoke up. "How do I do that?" she asked. "What's wing-on-wing and a whisker pole and a clew?"

The Svefra man turned to her, good-humoredly. "Wing-on-wing means the jib and the mainsail are on opposite sides," he said, "and the clew's the bottom corner of the sail. The whisker pole is that pole you see on the clew. If you see the telltales like I said, you'll furl the jib - pull it in with this line - then you'll lift and push the aft end of the whisker pole forward, and attach the end to the mast, here. You'll get the ends of the pole at the same height as the clew, unfurl the jib and pull this line tight, and there you have it." He tapped each place around the sail he mentioned.

Dovey nodded in thanks, tight-lipped, and stared at the telltales streaming in the wind. Ah, Laviku, don't let me have to try any of that. And if I do, don't let me break anything.

Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach