Feathers on the Sand [Noth, please]

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Saun 17, 717

The suns hung at their lowest point on the horizon, but it was still light out—was it twilight or was it dawn? Sand stretched in both directions, pale orange against the blue-green of the shallow sea water, and the sand bar was almost large enough to be considered a small island, though that’s all it was, really. A stretch of sand, long and narrow, with warm-colored shallow waters on one side and the deep darkness of a sudden drop into nothingness on the other like some underwater cliff that was teeming with all kinds of sea life. How far the sandbar seemed to stretch felt undefined, too far, but in the distance what looked like a mountain rose from the sea. It could have been a few mountains, somewhat reminiscent of the icy, desperate mountains Ishallr that he had no interest in revisiting, and yet to the seafaring musician, they could have been any mountains as everything looked both familiar and unknown at the same time.

No clouds. No birds. Just a bit of wind whipping white caps upon the waves and tugging loose strands of hair into Pash’s face as he stood on the sandbar, facing the hazy, distant rocks. Strewn about the sand ahead of him, for what looked like at least a break of travel, were the hulking skeletons of wrecked ships. Barnacled, sun-bleached wooden bones stuck up from the orange sand on both sides of the sandbar, as if this stretch of land was perhaps covered in high tide, making it invisible and deadly. The dead bodies of ships he knew—he’d built ones like this for most of his youth and he knew their shaped beams were etched into his very muscle memory—though none of these were familiar. Nothing was.

He blinked and then began to walk, for there was no sign of his sloop, no sign of The Muse anywhere among the shipwrecks. Carefully, his sandaled feet picked there way through the broken bits, sometimes running a calloused hand over a piece of wood curiously or peering his tide pool gaze into the gaping maw of some broken hull to see what may still be inside. Water sparkled, but nothing of value caught his eye while he wandered. A few times, he had to climb over the ribs of a hull, barnacles and splinters digging into his hands and shins as he scrambled over the sun-warmed remains toward the mountains as if he knew exactly where he was going, though he kept looking out to sea on either side in hopes of spotting his vessel moored off shore.

The distant mountains rumbled—like Faldrass, but deeper, more distant—and a flock of birds finally burst from the distant horizon, disappearing as if they were made of smoke. Pash felt somewhat naked without his lute, though he was dressed. He had his daggers. His rucksack. Where was his instrument? His sloop?

Lagoon blue eyes looked back up to the mountains as he paused, standing on the curved keel of a massive ship, not noticing that the suns had indeed begun to dip below the horizon, albeit slowly, orange light smoldering into a deepening red.

Where was he?

[Noth]

What looming and dark things swam underneath the tides, the hybrid questioned as he withdrew a talon from the water, turning to continue his walk along the sand. The water in question continued its voracious approach, lapping at the sandbar with evident hunger, slowly pulling away at the boundary that had been erected therein by the sediment. It was not surprising that people considered fire to have an appetite to it given its propensity for destruction, or the way that it absolutely consumed all that it touched until nothing was left but reminiscent ashes and glowing embers, however, it was rather odd that people typically did not associate the same sort of hunger with water. Yet, was water not just as dangerous as fire in its own regards? Did it not hold the power to tear down walls, and to lay low mountains? Did it not entrap and drown and send things down to an abyss where the only remembrance of them would be the lurking presence of bubbles, and the stories told in ill-reputed taverns? Yes, for all of its apparent benevolence, the hybrid recognized the ambitious hunger of water just as ready as that of fire, and that was probably the reason that he had avoided it so heartily… at least, until now.

Strangely, the sandbar itself seemed to hint at the dual nature of water by its mere presence. It acted as a barrier which separated the shallow and playful pool of water from what seemed to be a deep and dreadful chasm. Crimson eyes glared into that chasm for a moment, feeling the unnerving chill that accompanies staring into a void before withdrawing back to the more comforting dune of sand. It had been rumored that there were monsters which lurked in some of the deserts of Idalos as well, but at least those would still be on dry land, in an element where the hybrid had an opportunity to fight or fly; metaphorically of course.

There was a figure visible farther down the sandbar, and the twilight hybrid immediately began to trot towards him, taking keen notice of the mountainous ranges rising outwards in the distance. It was difficult to tell from his distant position which range the great mounds of stone belonged to, but it was rather clear that people would have extreme difficulty in traversing them, especially if they were visible even from where he stood.

Perhaps it was the distance, or a mere inattention to detail which prevented the hybrid from seeing the great mass of lumber strewn about the sandbar beyond the figure. Masts jutted out of the sand in awkward angles, leaving rent cloth to vibrantly flicker in the ocean’s breeze. Strange ballista-like instruments hooked heavily over the sides of some of the larger skeletons, their bolts lost since having fallen into disrepair, but still pointed with a volatile power, as though a simple touch would unleash them from their stasis.

Noth took hold of a nearby chunk of wood, hauling himself up it in order to enhance his vision of the area. His hands fell upon something slimy and rough, and he immediately unlatched them, gazing at the barnacle latched onto the wooden construct as though it were a parasite attached to some hulking beached whale. He closed and opened his hands several times in a vain attempt at removing the slickness from his palms, and eventually settled upon running them through the sandbar, though that was simply trading one issue for another; albeit, the new option was substantially drier.

The figure had apparently decided to climb up one of the behemoth battleships which littered the area, and his gaze appeared fixed upon the distant mountains, and upon a small flight of birds which had erupted out from somewhere beyond his vision. He ignored them entirely, far more focused upon finally reaching the fellow than on the presence of fellow avians. His talons were rather useful for digging into the old and warped boats, and he lurched up the side of the gargantuan construct in a matter of only a couple of bits.

“You must be the Navigator.” He called out to the lone figure, not even remotely attempting to hide his presence from the fellow, though there had been an inkling of desire to simply hurl him over the edge of his perch. Admittedly, that would accomplish little, but the hybrid would finally have a mental picture to put to all of the treatises over the nature of gravity that had been discussed throughout the academic world since he had been naught but a child.

“I believe your boat awaits you already within the waves, does it not?” He scoffed, directing a pointed finger down towards the abyssal darkness. “After all, if we are to reach the City Under The Waves, we shall require a boat which has already passed beneath them.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as though it were simple common knowledge, and not the results of deciphering some manner of apocryphal message.

He glanced down towards his hand, taking notice of the specially inscribed ring which had been planted upon his finger, observing as the etched wave upon it undulated with soft power. “You have your ring ready? The one that will allow you to breathe under? They are rather rare, I am told, but I believe yours was delivered to you without consequence, was it not?”

“If so, then let us depart at once.” He grinned, jerking a thumb back towards the darkness once more.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Navigator?” Pash’s statement became a baritone question as his tide pool gaze washed over the creature before him that had appeared like a feathered shadow and carried himself with as much threatening grace. The tall Biqaj blinked, feeling quite confident that this was, indeed, his role to fill out here near this chasm in the sea, and when he heard of his vessel from the lips of his now-companion, he immediately knew where it was,

“Aye, that’s me.” He nodded, assured, though his lingering glance was one of suspicion on the dark feathered biped. A calloused hand strayed to a pocket in his fading, well-woven pants and he indeed felt a grooved ring with his left hand, fingers tracing ridges that felt like waves on the cold exterior. While Pash couldn’t remember how he received it, since he had it now it seemed as though it indeed arrived without consequence, the only old scars on his person visible on his tanned, bare chest from behind his unbuttoned leather vest were all familiar ones to him, anyway. He rolled his broad, tattooed shoulders in a shrug and nodded in the direction of a clear spot of beach ahead of them both, indicating the general location of his vessel on the side of the sandbar that dropped into the deep blues of apparent brined nothingness,

“Are y’ sure you’ve got some form o’ permission?” The Navigator arched a sun-kissed brow, studying the creature that was at least part man before him, “What’s your name an’ purpose for visitin' th’ city—no’ everyone’s welcome there, ’s what I’ve heard. Jus’ ‘cause I know th’ way don’ mean I can get you in.”

Pash was slipping on his ring while he questioned his now-companion, but he started walking in the proper direction anyway, as if he already knew the answer, as if he was already comfortable enough with the other and had simply been more curious about his name than his purpose. Maybe he’d been less picky about his passengers before, in the past, and suffered the consequences for those choices or maybe he actually wasn’t so concerned about Noth’s intentions at all.

“No’ that it matters in th’ end. Th’ guardians can be fickle beasts.” He chuckled at that, already wading into the cold water with a hiss as if he knew exactly where he was going when there was nothing quite to be seen,

“‘M Pash, by th’ way.” The tall Biqaj added with a wave of his hand by means of introduction before he slipped beneath the salty waves. There was a short stretch of sand before the drop-off, just enough to wade to an average man’s waist, and then the sandbar simply ended in a silty edge, a limestone cliff face that disappeared into an ombre of blues. Near the surface, where the sun’s light still reached, the limestone was teeming with life in a blinding array of colors and shapes—fish and corals, anemones and seaweed of all kinds, many of them probably more fantastical in Emea than they ever could possibly have been in real life, had the dreamers even known the difference. As the surface slipped away, the Biqaj seemed to emit a faint light of his own, a warm glow that was at once reminiscent of how his race appeared under the moonlight and yet different all the same.

No longer needing to be concerned about breath, Pash simply slipped over the cliff face with a few swift kicks before he began to drift downward, his movements scattering fish from their places and causing some sea life to pull in their colorful blooms as he startled their strange senses. He was by no means a fast swimmer, but he was a steady one. It was all he could do to not be distracted by the alien beauty of the reef on his way downward, however, all of the colorful life both fascinating and strange. He reached out to toy with fish, who were always way too fast to actually allow themselves to be touched.

Just at the edge of vision was what appeared to be a small wooden vessel without a mast. It was shaped as any sloop should be, albeit unusual without rigging or sails, but instead where a mast would be was a crank of some kind and what appeared to be a tiller for steering instead of a wheel. So long as Noth followed, Pash swam as though this was a perfectly normal way to stumble upon and board a vessel, his vessel—the hull of the sloop painted a bright rust orange with a broad white stripe and a grey, barnacled keel. As they neared the sloop, the sun’s light dimming the deeper they swam and the life of the cliff face fading into barren limestone further below them before disappearing into the navy blue darkness, they could both feel a strange tug of what could only be described as gravity, perhaps magical in nature or simply the subconscious acceptance of how one properly should be standing aboard a ship.

Their feet could find the deck as one would stand on it above the waves and Pash pointed to the crank, his mouth not moving but words clearly passed between them,

“You’ll have to adjust the ballast while I steer to head us downward. Slowly at first, but let me free us from the anchor.” He turned crossed the deck in visibly slower motion than one would have moved on land, tugging a rope that shimmered much like himself from near the aft of the sloop and stretched toward the cliff face. A small, golden anchor was wrenched from the limestone in a spray of sand and rock and a few bright neon fish, and the Navigator deftly wound the rope with practiced ease before tucking it away in a special compartment. He then made his way to the tiller, glancing upward as if he could judge their position from the light that filtered from above, though there were no stars out yet and the sun’s position was so low on the horizon as to make it practically invisible from their current position several meters under the waves.

“Clockwise slowly, and keep an eye out for sharks.” Pash grinned, instructing Noth to adjust whatever the mysterious force was that was connected to the crank, the force that must have allowed them to go up and down underwater much like a fish used their air bladder to do the same.

[Noth]

There was a brief instant wherein Noth became genuinely concerned that he had managed to find the wrong person upon the wood-littered beach. It would be somewhat odd to find another person near the place of meeting, though perhaps not so terribly unusual to find someone scouring the remains of elder shipwrecks for use in more modern naval craft, or for archeological inspection and recovery; scholarly sorts were always prowling around the outskirts of ruins, hoping to find the next big discovery so that they could see their names plastered upon leather book-covers. Just as he was preparing to acknowledge his mistake and skulk away to locate the navigator, the man stated that he was, in fact, the aforementioned sailor.

The hybrid found himself curiously drawn to the presence of several person-sized holes scattered throughout the deck of the boat, and crimson eyes settled upon the nearest one, attempting to peer through the shadowy darkness beneath. Rather unfortunately, there was no light source other than the sun blazing overhead, which meant that a majority of the ship’s interior remained invisible to him, but he thought he could see the outline of a crate, and the slight etchings run across it which identified its contents, or perhaps its origin; the shadow made it too difficult to perceive properly.

The twilight Avriel found himself returning his gaze nonchalantly towards the navigator, listening to him as he questioned whether not the hybrid had received an invitation or otherwise gotten permission for his expedition. In truth, he had not received anything of the sort, but he was under the impression that once he was down in the City, he would not need much in the way of official documentation to make his allegiances and abilities known. Admittedly, the disposition of the isolationists beneath the waves was well-known to those who were aware of their presence, and he did not doubt that he would receive some semblance of conflict in meeting them, but conflict rarely worked against the interests of the warring bird, and he did not believe that it would suddenly begin to oppose him now.

Still, the Navigator need not know that he did not possess any admittance to the City, and so the hybrid calmly gave a nod and a devilish smile, reciting as if from memory,

“Of course. I am Noth, and I shall be embarking upon a journey of diplomacy with the City.” He paused, considering something for a moment before continuing, “Obviously, the City has always had issue with ships traveling its waters, but perhaps some manner of accord could be reached that mutually benefits us.”

He was lying through his teeth, naturally, but the feathered coating which covered him had helped him keep any tells that might have indicated his deception from others in the past, and he sincerely doubted that the navigator would suddenly be able to read him.

The next words of the navigator were rather more disheartening in nature. The topic had shifted to something known as a ‘guardian’, and whilst its very nature was revealed in its chosen role, Noth felt immediately anxious over the fact that he had no information about the ‘guardians’. It seemed reasonable at first to conclude that they were simply fellow sapient beings with the chosen obligation of protecting the City Under the Waves, but his second thought was that they might be some form of otherworldly monstrosity, bound to the city by some ancient force, compelled to defend it against outsiders.

Noth was seldom a fearful person. He had spent much of his life embroiled in violent conflict, and had found that he had a propensity for causing it which had somewhat alleviated any personal terror at having it inflicted back towards him. That, however, did not mean that he was not afraid of anything at all. Perhaps it was his Avriel blood which kept him wary of the watery depths, but the very idea of having some massive fish snap into his feet whilst he attempted to flounder around in the ocean as the epitome of a nightmare for the hybrid. The ocean was different than the land; on land he could run, or fight, but in the water he could only scream a gurgling shriek, and then disappear forever into the darkness, clasped in the jaws of something too large to stop properly.

His thoughts of succumbing to a watery end were disrupted when the fellow identified himself as Pash. He contemplated the name for an instant, before determining that he could not tell where it originated; he had never been on expert on the subject of regional name choices, nor professed to be one, and simply decided to ask instead. Sometimes, the easiest solution was also the most direct one.

“Ah. Pash. Where do you come from, Pash?” He questioned conversationally, gradually following after the fellow as he adjusted the ring upon his finger, ensuring that it was attached firmly to the phalange before he had waded too heartily into the ocean.

It was terribly cold within the water, and the hybrid felt his feathers cling against one another in a desperate attempt at creating heat. He was self-conscious enough to recognize that at least some of the cold he was feeling was focused less on temperature, and more upon temperament; the dreaded chill that runs up the spine when someone has to walk into a dark pit, or more accurately, the abyssal end of an ocean.

The twilight hybrid observed as the navigator plunged beneath the waves, disappearing from sight for a moment before the disheartened bird followed after him, allowing the chilling waters to sting his face for an instant before the ring’s effects allowed him some measure of normality. He could breathe almost exactly the same as when he had been upon the surface, though he did note with some amusement that his exhalations would unfailingly create a small string of bubbles which would creep upwards until they had disappeared entirely. More fascinating than that were the myriads of fish swirling and twisting underneath the waves, flashing in brilliant blues and greens and reds as they swam in their vibrant schools. It was a mental image that he doubted he would ever forget, and for a moment he wished he possessed some form of alchemical construct so that he could ingrain the image into his memory for eternity.

The ocean was not nearly as bad as it had seemed, apparently.

He followed after Pash, swimming in rather poor form after the man, the difference in skill somewhat staggering. The navigator fell off a cliff face, scattering some of the colorful fish to differing areas, and the hybrid eagerly followed, deigning it rather risky to find himself left in the darkness alone, even if he hadn’t observed anything particularly threatening thus far.

That thought was banished from his mind when he observed a colorful red and yellow fish suddenly disappear into a crater dug into the side of the cliff. Eerie eyes glistened from the pit, and the slight crunching noise of something chewing its prey were enough to warrant the hybrid speedily taking off after the navigator. The beast switched locations whilst he watched, and the Avriel found himself astounded at the nature of the animal. It was clearly predatory, with a snake-like litheness and a maw filled with teeth flaked with colorful spots where it had taken bites of fish. Upon its back, a pair of tentacles meandered in the ocean currents, fervently splashing about hither and thither as though they were prehensile in nature. It disappeared into another hole moments later, though Noth couldn’t drive the feeling that the creature was watching them from its new hiding place.

Arriving on the ship was a pleasant affair, and the hybrid listened intently to the navigator as soon as he was onboard, quickly abandoning any pretense of pride in favor of having better chances of surviving his underwater excursion. Pash directed him to a crank, and stated that he would need to adjust something called the ‘ballast’ whilst he himself took care of steering. It could be assumed that the crank itself controlled the ballast, but he still found himself glaring confusedly at the machine whilst the seasoned sailor dealt with the anchor. He groped at the device, noting that it was capable of being turned, and he observed as visible gears shifted underneath the crank whenever he began to twist it.

He had nearly halted himself from the act when Pash’s voice came to him once more, instructing him to begin turning it clockwise. The hybrid had personally never owned one of the devices, and it took him several trills to envision the nature of their movement, but after it had been visualized, the instruction became far clearer to him. He set about immediately, shifting his limb in a slow rhythm to allow for the crank to twist the gears underneath, and gradually, the hybrid saw that the sun which had lit up the sky began to fade until it was nothing more than a pinprick in an ocean of black.

“Quaint.”

He didn't mean it.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Was Pash at all suspicious of the dark creature who was mostly shaped like a man and yet hardly looked like one? Aye, just a little. The insatiably curious Biqaj was also observant of how people were, especially how they were under the surface—their feelings, their truths, their deceptions. Body language and tone of voice were important to him, and while this Noth was a person (for under those feathers, he was still somehow a man it seemed) he was unfamiliar with in many respects, he also felt like those who lied were perhaps not always as subtle as they believed themselves to be. Did it matter? No. He wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences: he was free to come and go as he pleased from the city under the sea by virtue of his heritage. They’d said so themselves: his silver blood was his right of passage, irrevocably so.

This one, though, with the feathers and the anger in his red eyes. This one, Pash was not so sure about and yet he was the type of man to give everyone their chance to prove themselves and their motives, no matter what assumptions he may have made about what he saw writhing and seething just below his pale flesh.

And yet, Pash could feel things from the creature’s tangle he had yet to See.

“Ne’Haer,” he answered conversationally with no small amount of pride once the pair had settled into their somewhat unusual roles aboard his vessel under the waves, the ship sinking with an almost aching slowness as Noth turned the gears for the mysterious ballast, “I’m from Ne’Haer: city o’ freedom an’ damn good shipwrights, of which m’ clan ‘s full ‘f ‘em, m’self included once upon an arc. I had t’ see Idalos, however—all ‘f ‘t, ‘r as much as I can—an’ so I travel now.”

Apparently, he also led people to secret cities deep in the Orm'del sea. This part seemed obvious and so he said nothing, the Navigator aware that his talents in the unseen weren’t widely known.

“An’ y’self? Y’ didn’t come from those mountains, did you? I hear they’re a lonely place o’ darkness, indeed.” The inflection of his Rakahi-accented baritone made it clear that loneliness was one of his least favorite of feelings, the tall Biqaj a social creature at his very core and far from ashamed of it should he admit to such a thing out loud, “I don’ take many visitors this a’ way these days. Th’ path’s a bit complicated t’ find—”

Glancing upward as the light of the sun disappeared, the softly glowing Biqaj signaled for his passenger to level off, that he’d done his part for now. The sea around them was full of distortion and deep hues of darkness, though behind them, over Pash’s shoulder, the cliff face was but a faint shadow of faded colors and slowly disappearing life. The deeper they went, the more it felt as though they truly had fallen into a watery void. Once there was no light from the surface, the pressure of their depth squeezing their bodies just noticeably despite their rings, the Navigator knew it was time to seek their way. He set the tiller into the brake, a cradle of sorts that kept them on their course while he was free to use his hands for a moment. He then tugged a small, curved knife from his belt, and put it to the calloused palm of his other hand, cutting into his own flesh with a wince.

He turned his wound upward, stardust-silver blood floating upwards in thin, shimmering wisps like living smoke. For a moment, nothing happened, and yet as he closed his fingers to stem the bleeding, the cloud of his life liquid shifted and changed as though it was, indeed, alive, tugged by an unseen force and shaped by a magical current into what could only be described as the most rudimentary of maps. It looked more like a star chart, faint and so very small, close to Pash’s face and apparently the Navigator understood all he saw, though he bothered not to explain to Noth, either because he couldn’t or he felt as though he shouldn’t.

With a wave of his now-wounded hand, he scattered the silver lines. Instead of disappearing into the brine around them, however, it almost appeared as if he inhaled the map like so much bloody smoke, the wisps washing against his face and his eyes shifting colors to appear a very similar metallic hue,

“A’right, make ‘bout twenty more cranks o’ that gear there while I get us on course, would you?” Pash grinned, lifting the tiller back up and leaning into it to the left, the entire vessel lurching sideways in the watery void like some lazy whale,

“An’ lets keep an eye out now that we’re on our way. Somethin’s bound t’ notice we’re here soon ‘nough.” Especially since the Navigator himself shimmered like a drowned lantern in the deep blue ravine.

[Noth]

It was strange how the boat only required the pair of them to crew properly, though he had no other sample size to compare the oddity to, and so, at least to him, it seemed that it must be that they all only required two or perhaps three persons to fully man. That was a vast contrast to the diverse and plentiful crews of the vessels above, those he had seen in the past, overflowing with persons who clung to their shaped wood as though it were a lifeline, and in many cases, that was true. The surface could quickly find itself wracked with storms, or flowing with monstrous beasts capable of swallowing men whole. He had observed the assorted pirate crews in times past as they made their way onto shores, spinning stories in exchange for cheap or free drinks and the company of their fellows, of their praise, and yet, he could not think of a single story that had ended in praise about those who traveled to the City Under the Waves.

There was only darkness this far below, the light having died away enough that it was becoming difficult even to see his own hand before his face, though there was a source of light in the Navigator who shimmered like an exotic fish, as though he had swallowed a torch and now radiated it outwards in beautiful and brilliant color. Noth found himself entranced by the glow of the Navigator, and quickly began to question where the bioluminescence was originating, but found himself floundering for a simple solution to the issue, and simply filed it away as an oddity for later consideration. He had expected there to be far more pressure having fallen as deeply as they had, but he felt a remarkable lack of change in his physiology as they gradually began to even out. Nonetheless, the deep was just as dangerous as the surface if not more so, and crimson eyes peered out into the dark, awaiting the return of the monstrous eel he had sighted earlier, or perhaps something even more horrific in nature.

The Navigator spoke of his homeland, of Ne’Haer, a place not very familiar to the hybrid. He did not believe it to be very far in terms of cities from Etzos, and he could distinctly remember talk in the taverns about traders looking to score big by heading to the city, but beyond that, everything revealed to him was something new and fascinating. Apparently, the entire place was filled to the brim with shipwrights, which also meant there would be carpenters and weavers aplenty for the sake of carving wooden frames and sewing together the sails which would allow for steady travel in the breeze. Ne’Haer was also spoken of as a city of freedom, though the concept was difficult to discuss in words, and seemed to be based mostly on one’s own personal sense of freedom. After all, Etzos was free, though it probably seemed fairly restrictive to the worshippers of Immortals. In the same way, an Avriel in Athart likely perceived themselves to be entirely free, but a human in the same city might see themselves only as a beast of labor, chained to the ground by their winged masters.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’ve never been myself, though it sounds like a pleasant place.” He uttered, not quite meaning every word, because in fact, it sounded just like every other city he had ever known of that lacked a major issue. Despite that, he was fairly certain that if he raked his talons along the surface of the political aspects of the city-state, he would discover something disreputable hiding in the murk.

“No, no. I come from Etzos.” He responded in answer to the question about his potential presence in the mountains. He considered whether or not to mention that he had technically been born in Athart, but it seemed entirely irrelevant to the conversation, and besides that, he had never for a single moment considered himself a resident of that awful place. He smirked as he continued, “It’s a city of freedom, though it’s filled with miners as opposed to shipwrights. Gems and jewels aplenty to adorn the crowns of all the wealthy.” He scoffed slightly at the last bit, displaying mild displeasure for those who wore such items, and the authority they displayed.

The Navigator spoke once more, mentioning the dangers of the path before them, and Noth suddenly felt a twinge of curiosity etch itself into his mind.

“So, do you reside upon the boat when you’re not traveling?”

It seemed somewhat reasonable to assume that he did, especially given the tendency of cities to tax their residents, but then again, living upon a boat meant being constantly exposed to the potential dangers of the sea, and even he knew that Chrien was an unkind mistress to those who braved her waters.

The twilight hybrid observed as the Navigator looked upwards towards the surface and the ever-shrinking sun, and then withdrew a knife from his side and promptly carved a light wound into his palm. Noth nearly questioned him as to why he had performed the act, but was interrupted when the blood; a peculiar silver, began to form into something reminiscent of a chart. He could not truly understand the meaning of the image, because there was no key to go along with it, but it was fairly obvious that it was a map given the nature of its markings, and he found himself attempting to draw conclusions as to their position despite his lack of knowledge.

The Navigator dispelled the map with a wave of his hand, and the blood was promptly inhaled into his body, dissipating into nothing and leaving his eyes with a similar silvery hue. He ordered that Noth crank the device he had operated earlier twenty times, and the hybrid immediately obeyed, beginning the operation for fear of somehow sinking their boat through his inaction. It was true that Noth liked to be in control of a situation, enjoyed being the leader and making the commands, but when it came to matters he was unfamiliar with, he certainly wasn’t going to endanger himself by ignoring the orders of more experienced individuals.

What he was familiar with, however, were predators. Even in the ocean, they followed rather similar thought patterns to their surface brethren, and the hybrid; always on the watch for the presence of such beasts, immediately saw the slight flicker of movement in the darkness, and felt the wash of a current of water displaced by its presence. The eel blinked its eyes a single time in the shadow, its body nearly invisible in the darkness except for the slight shimmer elicited on its scales by the glowing Navigator. For a moment, it looked as though it might ignore him, but Noth recognized the hunger in its eyes as it coiled and twisted just within vision, saw the way that it slowly opened its mouth, as if gauging how large it would need to open its jaw to properly snap one of the pair up.

“Pash. Eel.” He spoke softly, hoping not to provoke the monster with loud noises, though he did nod his head in the direction of the creature so as to better direct his only ally.

And then, the eel lashed forward, straightening in an instant, and heading directly for their ship.

Noth immediately regretted their only being two people on the boat.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

"I’ve been t’ Etzos. Once. Back in th’ arc o’ 714. Didn’t stay long—no’ m’ kinda place, n’ offense." He honestly didn’t mean any, his words conversational and almost light-hearted.

He’d not been in the best of emotional or mental states, honestly, when he stopped at the city on his return to Ne’Haer from Rharne, so his memories of his short visit were warped and twisted with inner turmoil and time. Pash didn’t like the place because he found the anti-Immortal sentiments somewhat ridiculous, incredulous even, but nowhere was perfect, not even his home. It wasn’t like he’d been there, either, in a few arcs, so who was he to judge?

Unlike most of his people, the tall Biqaj didn’t chase coin or jewels. He collected people, experiences, feelings ... not things. So he mirrored the feathered creature’s smirk at his comment about wealth, if only because it felt as though Noth had some particular opinions about those that held too much coin as opposed to those who held too little.

"This one? No." In that moment, Pash seemed to realize that the vessel he was, indeed, Navigating, was not at all his usual sloop. It was something he felt familiar with and therefore didn’t question his abilities using, but there was a flicker of understanding that The Muse was elsewhere and he did not need it, "I’ve got a nice little sloop I’ve called home for ‘bout eight arcs now. M’ da’at—m’ father—an’ I built ‘er together. This be jus’ a job, y’ could say."

He winked at that, mischievous enough, as though the two of them somehow should know what that meant. He didn’t. But, again, it felt right here in the liquid dark.

Noth did as he was asked and the vessel they were on began to sink further still, though the feeling wasn’t nearly as pronounced as it would have been had they fallen off a cliff through the air. Everything felt languid and slow, the cold brine numbing but also so dark now that depth and spacial perception beyond the immediacy of the vessel became a mystery. Distance could really only be discerned as a guesstimate in the lack of light, and Pash placed the tiller in a small cradle-looking brake for a moment, meaning to move across the deck and toward what he would have explained as a sea lantern of sorts had his strange passenger caught his attention with the quiet word:

eel.

His passenger was subtle, but there was a hint of surprise in his crimson eyes that prompted the tall Biqaj to turn, just in time to see the long creature open its mouth and charge.

"Wo chet!" Pash had a moment to hiss a fearful phrase in his native tongue, though he didn’t bother to brace for impact as one may have while above the waves. Instead, he instinctually shoved upwards from the deck to launch himself upward, looking back down to Noth who was, in fact, closer to the object he wanted to illuminate, "Th’ lantern—quick! Light it."

That was a strange order, indeed, even as the eel barreled toward the small vessel, mouth open, bright eyes drawn toward the shimmering Biqaj for a moment as he put distance between himself and the ship, swimming upward. He would soon leave his passenger in the darkness, but Noth had enough time to make his way to the lantern Pash had pointed to should he choose to do so. It appeared to have a switch, as being underwater obviously meant that no matches and no flame could light here. Flipping the switch would produce a bright, momentarily blinding yellowish flash before bathing the entire vessel in what could only be described as a bubble of warm, ruddy light. It lit up the deck completely, fading into a bright circle. The light didn’t appear to have any physical qualities like a shield or a barrier, and yet it just looked like it should.

The eel was still a little too far away to test that theory, however.

While it didn’t harm the eel, the flash was enough to startle it for a moment, and the Navigator was already drawing a weapon, still swimming within a few quick strokes of the deck of his ship, preparing himself to actually fight the large creature as if it was the sanest thing in the world to do.

"I think these ones be a bit poisonous," Pash admitted in a calm, conversational manner, "So try no’ t’ let it bite you, eh?"

He grinned, a flash of teeth and bright eyes in the dark, ready to turn on the beast.

[Noth]

“None taken. It’s certainly not meant for everyone, but I imagine it will change.” The Avriel spoke, his mind whirling to memories past of the aforementioned arc. It had been an absolutely dreadful Arc for the darkly-feathered bird, and the instant he quickly banished his sorrowful thoughts back to an abyss far deeper than the one wherein his physical form resided. He genuinely took no offense to the comment on the man’s lack of preference towards the city of his childhood, because in reality he recognized that it was simply another settlement; one of many, and that its issues and problems were myriad just as all others.

But, he meant his words dearly. It would change.

His question as to where the Biqaj resided when he wasn’t preoccupied with leading travelers to assorted places was answered by the sociable and relatively cheery fellow who made it clear that he resided upon a sloop; a form of boat, if memory recalled. The boat that they were currently upon was not his home, but instead was simply a vessel which he used for his work. That seemed logical enough, especially given the dangerous nature of the undersea. If all of the man’s possessions and pieces of livelihood were held upon a ship, then it made sense that he would make certain not to risk them for the sake of gaining a little more coin. Beyond that, it would be somewhat impractical to outfit the ship to travel both upon the surface and below it, and the renovations involved there would be remarkably costly to apply.

Sinking deeper into the water was strange. It was not nearly as weightless as the hybrid had expected it to be, but he could see the tips of several of his feathers direct themselves upward as watery currents thrashed against them. The boat echoed out a gentle creak as it adjusted to the pressure of the deep and the dark, its cords straining for an instant before loosening once more as they became resigned to the depth.

The bottom of the world was a dark place, and the hybrid recalled a thought that it was filled with monsters. Entropic nothingness seemed to swallow up every hint of existence until there was no light except for that of the Biqaj sailor, and even then the shadows seemed hungrily tempted to latch onto him until he was nothing more than a shadowy husk; whenever the man moved, the darkness would devour wherever the light no longer dared to exist.

He wondered how many of the gods had ever fallen so far into the abyss, had ever ventured so deeply into the nothing. Was it truly empty? The Avriel waved his hand in front of himself, capable of seeing it, but only just barely. Were it not for the lantern-like quality of his traveling companion he would have been completely blinded.

In the dark, there were abysmal things forgotten by gods and men, stalking and creeping abominations grown of grotesque fantasy and cruelly inspired dreams. They floated and glided about in the absence, comfortable in their ignorance of the surface, and the surface in turn comfortable without knowledge of those things which resided below. Where the godlings of the surface realms ruled with iron determination and steely disposition, the atrocities hidden beneath all of creation were of a far less authoritarian brand. All that sunk to their level was torn into with reckless abandon, and it became as they had always been, and always would be… nothing. Like a flash of lightning in the night, one such beast made its presence known, stalking the ship until it had decided to make itself known to the crew.

The creature’s tentacles were attached at it in strange and uneven places, Noth realized as he watched it. It shimmered gently with the light of the Biqaj, its scales reflecting the energy back towards them. It opened its mouth, and rows upon rows of teeth, bristling with sharp ferocity were revealed to them, stretching onwards down its throat until vision had been lost completely. Did the teeth go all the way down? He met the creature’s eyes, and shrieked in terror at the absence, for the thing did not possess pupils in the standard manner of living things, but instead reflected back its own unfathomable existence, its unjust genesis at the beginning of all things, and its dead eyes spoke of a future filled of blackness.

An accented tone struck him out of the melancholic revelation, and brought him back to the present. He had been ordered to light a lantern sitting near him, and he promptly gazed upon it, sprinting towards it an instant before everything turned to nothing. He could feel the wood paneling beneath his feet, but he had lost vision entirely. Feathered fingers stretched out, grasping at air in a desperate and vain attempt at clawing back some semblance of light, the ever-present fear that something would snatch off one of his wandering limbs replaying in his mind until finally he made contact with the source of light. He twisted the lantern, listening as an in-built mechanism struck against itself, and there was an explosion of sunlight which wreaked off of it, birthed into reality with a bright and warm detonation.

He was vaguely aware that his companion was swimming towards the giant eel, and that it had been thrown off course by the presence of the light. An idea came to mind, provoked by a desire to annihilate the thing which had decided to plague their day, and a simultaneous desire not to leave the ship for anything whatsoever. He took hold of the lantern, wrapping his feathered fingers around it, and directing its light straight forward at the creature, blinding it terribly so as to give the advantage to the Biqaj now on approach.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The tall Biqaj had his back turned to the diving vessel and to his dark-feathered companion, but when the lantern was lit, the bright wash of light would have blinded him had he been facing it. It was a true beacon in the darkness, the glow strong and possessing an almost tangible heat—the luminous remains of some godling’s too good heart crushed by the weight of the world itself until it became particles of pure, ethereal light itself. At their depth, the warm brightness illuminated a wide sphere around their ship but also, because of the nature of the lantern’s shape and design, created a very concentrated beam of light that could literally be aimed. As Both lifted it from its place and aimed it at the eel, the creature writhed. If it had vocal chords or air in its lungs like a whale, it would have hissed or whined perhaps, judging by its sudden reaction to the searing light that reflected off of its body and drown out the subtle glow of the Biqaj who still swam toward it.

By Chrien’s ire, the creature was ugly now that he found himself closer to it than he ever should have been. Terrifying. Wrong. He’d charged it without much thought, for surely they were still too far from their destination for sentries and patrols to come to their aid from somewhere in the murky darkness of the abyss. The City was probably much farther than he had considered, and if anyone else found them, found what was left of them should the eel have its way with them, then they probably were interlopers without the same kind of permission the Navigator had with his passenger.

Larger than any eel Pash had encountered in his seafaring life and with more teeth than he’d seen in all of those twenty six arcs: the sharp, pointy things literally disappeared into the darkness that was its gullet as though even its insides were lined with them to make the process of being consumed that much more of a painful, horrible death—

Well, Pash wasn’t going to be doing the dying to-trial, that much he told himself anyway, especially as Noth took action with the lantern and the eel appeared to pause for a heartbeat or two.

—Jaws snapped in anger and the large creature appeared blinded or infuriated for the moment, but more so seemed to be disoriented, as if the light actually harmed it or irritated it’s thought process in a way that was not able to be understood by the two humanoids visiting its watery domain.

Pash took that moment to kick harder, to propel himself forward, dagger in his hand ready to strike. Tentacles flailed as the Navigator attempted to swing for one of the creature’s eyes, their wild strangeness finding him before he’d finished the arc of his achingly slow motion movement, the deep water an alien form of resistance even for himself. Just as he felt himself gaining momentum with the motion of his dagger, one of the flailing tentacles struck him, touching the tanned flesh of his waist. And then another found his opposite arm, hand cupped as he swam forward. Both tentacles curled quickly and the eel’s head began to turn, maw opening again slower, stretching wider, homing in on the tall Biqaj now that it could feel him.

It didn’t need to see at all.

Why would it, living in darkness and feeding on whatever dared come too close to that mouth? The tentacles did the sensing, it seemed, perhaps far more useful in the darkness and in the tunnels that riddled the cliff they’d left behind.

"Flip th’ other switch—" Pash growled loudly through grit teeth, the tentacles tingling and making his flesh where they touched more numb than any cold could. Attempting to struggle backwards, kicking furiously to buy himself even a handful of bits, "—th’ one on th’ back!"

He adjusted his swing, dagger slashing at the tentacle that gripped his arm, hacking desperately to free himself before it was too late but unable to go into a detailed description of what his passenger could expect out of his request.

"Hurry!"

[Noth]

The beacon was immensely bright to the point that the hybrid grasping onto it was unable to look at it directly lest it burn his eyes. It had been his hope that the bright light would blind and disorient the creature which now thrashed about in the depths as though it was unaccustomed to the brightness, and that that momentary distraction would be enough for Pash to slay it. Noth was uncertain how the small man was going to compare against the relatively large eel, but he knew deep in his heart that even the most primordial and ravenous of entities could be felled with a single blow if it landed somewhere critical to its function. Even Immortals had fallen prey to the predator that was the mortal races, and they would not be the last to fall under that torrential tidal wave. Humanity would carry on.

It was a hideous beast to gaze upon, and the twilight hybrid secretly wished that he could avert his eyes away from it, but that would be unwise. To look away from danger was to invite it to steal you away without conflict, and he would certainly not allow any foe; neither beast, nor man, nor god, to slay him without some semblance of a fight. It was simply not in his nature to surrender under duress, and it seemed that a similar mentality ran through the blood of the Biqaj navigator, because he charged forward towards the monstrosity without fail, appearing for an instance like one of the brave knights of storybooks, off to slay his dragon.

It was not to be, because whilst Pash was a brave and courageous sort, he had made the foolish mistake of attacking a raging animal in the midst of its habitat, and he had been slowed substantially by the pressure and resistance of the water surrounding him; a force that the entity opposing them did not need to fight against. Noth observed with horror as the tentacle trapped the Biqaj, stopping him from escaping and drawing him ever-closer to its maw, apparently intent on swallowing him into its gullet, of dragging a thousand spear-like teeth across his flesh until he was nothing more than an undulating fleshy mass deep within its stomach, festering away in its digestive juices.

Noth was certainly not an expert on the marine flora and fauna that populated the depths of the ocean, and so the idea that it might not need its eyes to see, or the fact that it could simply sense motions in the water with its tentacles was not one that ever occurred to him. Even when it had snatched at Pash, he was uncertain as to how it had managed to spot him so expertly, and he could only assume that it was a chance accident that had paid off in its favor, and to the detriment of the crew of two; soon to be one, if he did not act.

The voice of his traveling companion barely reached him, but it was enough to incite him to action. The hybrid took hold of the nearest switch, and promptly jarred it upwards, activating it and hoping that it would somehow manage to rescue the Biqaj sailor from an otherwise atrocious fate. He felt around at his own waist, searching desperately for the weapons that commonly resided there, but it seemed that they had become somewhat lost in his plight, and so he remained upon the deck, looking for anything else that might help. He stumbled upon a slight protrusion of wood where one of the boards had not been laid properly, and he quickly snapped off the highest chunk of it, hurtling it out into the darkness towards the eel with surprising strength, the wooden debris smashing into its mouth and knocking a couple of its vicious teeth away and into the ether.

It was not enough. Only the beacon could save them both now.

It came through, lashing outwards with a blinding spear of brilliant fire which lanced directly through the belly of the great fish. Noth saw as dozens of teeth mingled with gore and spilled out of its rippled and cauterized wound, and the creature gave a quick cry of agony, shaking Pash around like a ragdoll for a few moments as it went into its death throes before immediately surrendering itself to the dark, releasing the sailor back into the water. The lantern died, having expended all of its power in the flash.

The threat was gone, and yet, it seemed quite possible that the blood now floating about the water would bring further predators to their position.

“We need to leave! Hurry!” He cried out to the sailor, suddenly quite frightened at the possibility of facing a dozen eels like the one which now gently floated before them.