Saun 15, 717
Scalvoris Town Harbor, Some very early break
With Saun’s two suns, there was no night and no darkness, just barely a dusk where the pair of lights hung low on the horizon but never quite disappeared beneath it. In order to escape the heat and perhaps just to mark the passage of time somehow, Pash had taken to sailing out into the harbor a bit after returning from working the night at Cally’s, pulling away from the crowd of other ships at the docks and into open waters for the breeze, the cold Scalvoris sea keeping his cabin’s temperature cooler than any building in town, a welcome comfort compared to those who languished in the soaring temperatures all trial long. He’d open the porthole windows and lift the hatch to let a bit of air flow through the small space, if only to keep himself and Kali’rial from suffering too much under the weight of the season’s unrelenting heat while they slept.
They were both asleep when it all happened, whatever it was, the chaos in the harbor, at least for most of it.
It was the jolt that woke him, however—a loud thump and his entire sloop listed dangerously to one side as if he’d hit a sandbar or, worse, as if another ship had hit The Muse. Mugs and plates slid off the shelf in the galley with a crash, and the hull groaned in protest.
Pash was up with a start at the sound of smashing pottery, his stomach turning with the motion of his home. Bolting up and out of his berth, he was climbing out of his hatch in a heartbeat or two, lagoon blue eyes squinting to adjust to the brightness as his bare feet raced across his deck just as his sloop righted itself, threatening to toss him the opposite direction had he not caught himself on the halyard line.
“What th’—” The water was red. He was close enough to the docks to see that the entire stretch of sea from where he’d anchored all and the surrounding area was completely red. It wasn’t a trick of the light, either, but the cold waters appeared as though filled with so much blood instead of brine. As if to make the point, a few fish floated on the surface, eyes clouded and obviously dead. Then, a few more. And more until what looked like an entire school of decent-sized fish floated past, a few bumping uselessly against the scraped rusty orange of his hull. What he couldn’t see, however, was what moved his sloop—there were no signs of anything large having moved past and he was still very much in water deeper than his hull, even if he was close enough to the beach to see it clearly from where he bobbed in the harbor.
Then he heard the shouting.
Squinting back toward the harbor, he could see ships had been overturned. Some were out in open water like himself, and their barnacled hulls were dripping in the sun, smashed masts and sails floating everywhere in the red waters. Some of the dock had been smashed when a particularly large merchant ship had tilted probably much like his, only the massive vessel had been moored, crashing into the dock and crushing a smaller boat next to it, too.
People needed help.
“Kali,” The tall Biqaj nodded toward the anchor to imply she raise it, for the dark-haired Sev’ryn hadn’t been much more than a few footsteps behind him. He moved to the sails to raise them, keeping them luffed instead of well-tacked so that he could move slowly back toward the docks, wary of what might be swimming beneath them, if anything was at all, “I heard tell o’ somethin’ similar ‘n Havardir last season—th’ whole harbor red like blood an’ dead fish—but n’ one could figure out what happened. Looks like th’ same here. There’s some folks at th’ docks that could use a hand, though. Keep an eye out. Maybe we can see somethin’ still nearby while we head that way.”
With that, he stepped to the stern to steer at the tiller, turning the sloop back toward town once the anchor was up and his sails catching the wind.
They were both asleep when it all happened, whatever it was, the chaos in the harbor, at least for most of it.
It was the jolt that woke him, however—a loud thump and his entire sloop listed dangerously to one side as if he’d hit a sandbar or, worse, as if another ship had hit The Muse. Mugs and plates slid off the shelf in the galley with a crash, and the hull groaned in protest.
Pash was up with a start at the sound of smashing pottery, his stomach turning with the motion of his home. Bolting up and out of his berth, he was climbing out of his hatch in a heartbeat or two, lagoon blue eyes squinting to adjust to the brightness as his bare feet raced across his deck just as his sloop righted itself, threatening to toss him the opposite direction had he not caught himself on the halyard line.
“What th’—” The water was red. He was close enough to the docks to see that the entire stretch of sea from where he’d anchored all and the surrounding area was completely red. It wasn’t a trick of the light, either, but the cold waters appeared as though filled with so much blood instead of brine. As if to make the point, a few fish floated on the surface, eyes clouded and obviously dead. Then, a few more. And more until what looked like an entire school of decent-sized fish floated past, a few bumping uselessly against the scraped rusty orange of his hull. What he couldn’t see, however, was what moved his sloop—there were no signs of anything large having moved past and he was still very much in water deeper than his hull, even if he was close enough to the beach to see it clearly from where he bobbed in the harbor.
Then he heard the shouting.
Squinting back toward the harbor, he could see ships had been overturned. Some were out in open water like himself, and their barnacled hulls were dripping in the sun, smashed masts and sails floating everywhere in the red waters. Some of the dock had been smashed when a particularly large merchant ship had tilted probably much like his, only the massive vessel had been moored, crashing into the dock and crushing a smaller boat next to it, too.
People needed help.
“Kali,” The tall Biqaj nodded toward the anchor to imply she raise it, for the dark-haired Sev’ryn hadn’t been much more than a few footsteps behind him. He moved to the sails to raise them, keeping them luffed instead of well-tacked so that he could move slowly back toward the docks, wary of what might be swimming beneath them, if anything was at all, “I heard tell o’ somethin’ similar ‘n Havardir last season—th’ whole harbor red like blood an’ dead fish—but n’ one could figure out what happened. Looks like th’ same here. There’s some folks at th’ docks that could use a hand, though. Keep an eye out. Maybe we can see somethin’ still nearby while we head that way.”
With that, he stepped to the stern to steer at the tiller, turning the sloop back toward town once the anchor was up and his sails catching the wind.
Off Topic
This is another completely OPEN thread—you can be on the beach, on the dock, or in a boat at sea. I’ve been given the okay to self-mod this and I have some ideas, so I’m happy to take us all on a little monster chase if you’d like to come along. Enrick and Victor, I know you expressed interest in joining Kali and I, so just feel free to jump in however you’d like. Anyone else, don’t hesitate to participate. You can see the event description here.
