Day 66 of Fall in the Year 513 AV
“Jaxon! Get to the portside! We’re listing!”
“Someone focus the currents!”
“Where is the spare timber?! We need to brace the mast!”
Shouts rang out amidst the chaos that ensued aboard the Stormbrewer. Svefra ran frantically from bow to stern, weaving around one another as each remained on task, trying to keep their beloved vessel moving forward. Exhaustion was evident on each of the sailor’s faces, their drenched forms having spent all night fighting the raging storm that threatened to tear their ship apart. Tattered sails blew in the wind. Sea creatures of all kinds wore makeshift harnesses secured around their bodies that attached to the prow of the paviler, pulling the crippled ship through the waters.
Rain fell from the sky, black clouds refusing to give peace to the fatigued crew. The Greytide pod was lucky to have survived the raging tempest. But Zulrav wasn’t done with them yet. A large gust of wind sprung up and yanked violently on the remaining sails. A loud screeching noise drowned out the voices as the cracked mast fought the strain of the wind.
“Kel!” The Lia’s voice cracked like a whip across the ship. “You’re the most agile one here! Climb to the top and cut the sails free or we’ll lose the ship!”
The Svefra jerked up, startled at the sound of Lia Christella’s voice. He grunted, cords of muscle pulled taunt as he lifted the lip of the splintered barrel he had been rolling along the deck and set it upright with a thump. He glared at the woman, their blue eyes clashing from across the deck as their electric stare built tension thick enough to be cut through.
The young man was the bane of the pod’s existence. He was nothing but a rash, arrogant, loud mouthed pain in the arse. His constant rebellion and dismissal of authority almost got him kicked out of the pod at every port. But he was Greytide. So he stayed.
One of the older Svefra, Kel's weapon trainer, passed him by muttering quietly, "Just listen to her, Kel. She's right, you are the best choice for the job." Gideon clasped the younger Svefra on the back and ran to the bow to help with the animals.
“I said NOW!”
Kel snarled but heeded his weapon trainer's words, one of the only people he respected as he finally deferred to the matriarch and ripped his eyes away from her’s, running to the side of the ship. The barebacked teen planted one foot against the deck and pushed off, landing on the railing of the Stormbrewer, arm twined around the rigging. He stood barefoot on the slick gunwale, black sash snapping in the wind, watching as the wind contorted the water around them, waves rising and falling dangerously in the sea.
The mast creaked even louder and he grabbed a hold of the netting with his other hand, pulling himself up, quickly scaling the soaked mesh. The wind grew stronger and he felt it tug at the square rigging, blowing it back and forth, making it harder for him to hold on as he climbed.
Kel reached the bottom spar, wrapping an arm around it, pulling himself off of the rigging and shimmed to the nearest line that held the main sail in place. He reached around behind him and gripped the hilt of his kukri that was held in place by the sash, pressed up against his lower back.
The black haired Svefra pulled the curved blade free and sawed at the line. He gritted his teeth as he pushed harder against the line as tendrils of the rope slowly frayed away. With a loud SNAP the blade cut through and the line whipped through the air. The corner of the sail flapped wildly in the air. Kel raised the kukri and placed it between his teeth. He wrapped both hands around the spar and slunk across the beam towards the other side. The mast swayed violently and his grip tightened. He climbed around the main mast and slid to the far end.
Kel grabbed his knife from his mouth and began sawing through another rope. After a few ticks the blade severed the line and it once again was ripped away by the storm. The bottom portion of the sail snapped through the wind. The cut rope whipped down through the air and lashed the boy across the back. Kel yelled in agony, feeling the line rip through his flesh, nerves radiating pain.
He grimaced but grit his teeth and dragged himself along the spar back towards the main mast. He could feel blood welling up from the torn skin, dripping down his back as he gripped the beam and pulled himself upright. The growing wind threatened to rip him free from the mast and throw him into the ocean. Kel placed the blade back in his mouth and seized the slick wood between his arms and wrapped his legs around it. He slowly pulled himself up towards the top where the last remaining ropes were bound.
The rain soaked lumber almost caused him to lose his hold a few times. The rough material rubbed against his chest, he could feel splinters digging into the soft flesh as he climbed. He finally reached the top and gripped the mast tightly between his thighs. The wind was even more intense fifty feet over the deck and he felt the rush of adrenaline course through him.
The pain radiated from his back, impairing his mobility. His muscles began to tire from the excessive climbing. At any moment the wind could tear him free from the mast and he would plummet to his death. A grin of exhilaration contorted his features, he lived for moments like these.
Kel grabbed his kukri again and grin twisting into a grimace as the movement pulled at the wound. He brought his arm up and slashed it down towards the line. The sharp edge dug into the hemp and he brought the blade up again. The second slash bit deeper into the line and he raised it a third time. The knife glinted in the dim light before slashing through the third line.
The rope whipped free, the frayed end lashing him across the arm. He cried out at the pain but managed to keep hold of his knife and the mast.
“Last one…last one…”
Kel switched hands, wrapping his blade wielding hand around the mast and grabbed the blade in his other hand. He sawed frantically through the rope. After a few ticks the line snapped. He breathed a sigh of relief. But it was a premature celebration.
The wind ripped the sail free. The direction of the storm blew the heavy cloth directly at Kel. His eyes widened as the sail flew back and hit him in the face. His fingers grasped wildly, trying to grip the slippery wood. But it was to no avail.
He was knocked off the main mast, falling towards the churning sea below.
“Someone focus the currents!”
“Where is the spare timber?! We need to brace the mast!”
Shouts rang out amidst the chaos that ensued aboard the Stormbrewer. Svefra ran frantically from bow to stern, weaving around one another as each remained on task, trying to keep their beloved vessel moving forward. Exhaustion was evident on each of the sailor’s faces, their drenched forms having spent all night fighting the raging storm that threatened to tear their ship apart. Tattered sails blew in the wind. Sea creatures of all kinds wore makeshift harnesses secured around their bodies that attached to the prow of the paviler, pulling the crippled ship through the waters.
Rain fell from the sky, black clouds refusing to give peace to the fatigued crew. The Greytide pod was lucky to have survived the raging tempest. But Zulrav wasn’t done with them yet. A large gust of wind sprung up and yanked violently on the remaining sails. A loud screeching noise drowned out the voices as the cracked mast fought the strain of the wind.
“Kel!” The Lia’s voice cracked like a whip across the ship. “You’re the most agile one here! Climb to the top and cut the sails free or we’ll lose the ship!”
The Svefra jerked up, startled at the sound of Lia Christella’s voice. He grunted, cords of muscle pulled taunt as he lifted the lip of the splintered barrel he had been rolling along the deck and set it upright with a thump. He glared at the woman, their blue eyes clashing from across the deck as their electric stare built tension thick enough to be cut through.
The young man was the bane of the pod’s existence. He was nothing but a rash, arrogant, loud mouthed pain in the arse. His constant rebellion and dismissal of authority almost got him kicked out of the pod at every port. But he was Greytide. So he stayed.
One of the older Svefra, Kel's weapon trainer, passed him by muttering quietly, "Just listen to her, Kel. She's right, you are the best choice for the job." Gideon clasped the younger Svefra on the back and ran to the bow to help with the animals.
“I said NOW!”
Kel snarled but heeded his weapon trainer's words, one of the only people he respected as he finally deferred to the matriarch and ripped his eyes away from her’s, running to the side of the ship. The barebacked teen planted one foot against the deck and pushed off, landing on the railing of the Stormbrewer, arm twined around the rigging. He stood barefoot on the slick gunwale, black sash snapping in the wind, watching as the wind contorted the water around them, waves rising and falling dangerously in the sea.
The mast creaked even louder and he grabbed a hold of the netting with his other hand, pulling himself up, quickly scaling the soaked mesh. The wind grew stronger and he felt it tug at the square rigging, blowing it back and forth, making it harder for him to hold on as he climbed.
Kel reached the bottom spar, wrapping an arm around it, pulling himself off of the rigging and shimmed to the nearest line that held the main sail in place. He reached around behind him and gripped the hilt of his kukri that was held in place by the sash, pressed up against his lower back.
The black haired Svefra pulled the curved blade free and sawed at the line. He gritted his teeth as he pushed harder against the line as tendrils of the rope slowly frayed away. With a loud SNAP the blade cut through and the line whipped through the air. The corner of the sail flapped wildly in the air. Kel raised the kukri and placed it between his teeth. He wrapped both hands around the spar and slunk across the beam towards the other side. The mast swayed violently and his grip tightened. He climbed around the main mast and slid to the far end.
Kel grabbed his knife from his mouth and began sawing through another rope. After a few ticks the blade severed the line and it once again was ripped away by the storm. The bottom portion of the sail snapped through the wind. The cut rope whipped down through the air and lashed the boy across the back. Kel yelled in agony, feeling the line rip through his flesh, nerves radiating pain.
He grimaced but grit his teeth and dragged himself along the spar back towards the main mast. He could feel blood welling up from the torn skin, dripping down his back as he gripped the beam and pulled himself upright. The growing wind threatened to rip him free from the mast and throw him into the ocean. Kel placed the blade back in his mouth and seized the slick wood between his arms and wrapped his legs around it. He slowly pulled himself up towards the top where the last remaining ropes were bound.
The rain soaked lumber almost caused him to lose his hold a few times. The rough material rubbed against his chest, he could feel splinters digging into the soft flesh as he climbed. He finally reached the top and gripped the mast tightly between his thighs. The wind was even more intense fifty feet over the deck and he felt the rush of adrenaline course through him.
The pain radiated from his back, impairing his mobility. His muscles began to tire from the excessive climbing. At any moment the wind could tear him free from the mast and he would plummet to his death. A grin of exhilaration contorted his features, he lived for moments like these.
Kel grabbed his kukri again and grin twisting into a grimace as the movement pulled at the wound. He brought his arm up and slashed it down towards the line. The sharp edge dug into the hemp and he brought the blade up again. The second slash bit deeper into the line and he raised it a third time. The knife glinted in the dim light before slashing through the third line.
The rope whipped free, the frayed end lashing him across the arm. He cried out at the pain but managed to keep hold of his knife and the mast.
“Last one…last one…”
Kel switched hands, wrapping his blade wielding hand around the mast and grabbed the blade in his other hand. He sawed frantically through the rope. After a few ticks the line snapped. He breathed a sigh of relief. But it was a premature celebration.
The wind ripped the sail free. The direction of the storm blew the heavy cloth directly at Kel. His eyes widened as the sail flew back and hit him in the face. His fingers grasped wildly, trying to grip the slippery wood. But it was to no avail.
He was knocked off the main mast, falling towards the churning sea below.
Legend
Fratava
Kel's Common
Kel's Thoughts
PC/NPC
Fratava
Kel's Common
Kel's Thoughts
PC/NPC
