The Rastavere was at one time in its past, a warship. Possessed of two large masts each bearing two enormous sails, and three smaller masts each with a single triangular sail. Her four tiered top decks lead were connected by sweeping staircases and made room below themsirwinians for no less than 20 cannons per side. But many, though not all, the cannons had long since been sold. A light frame ‘viewing deck’ now extended from the back of the rearmost deck, offering a shaded viewpoint of the ocean behind the ship. Her crew, once mainly human, now consisted of most of the races of the world. As is common to almost all ships of the era, gorun sailors were plentiful upon her deck. Though not as strong as their comrades, ceratogi sailors had their use in the speed they could cross between decks, relaying commands and extended information about the ship. The remains of the crew included a mixture of humans and irwinians.
The Rastavere was at one time in its past, a warship. But the wars had fallen away, and a tentative peace had washed over its homelands. Like a tide coming in, the peace brought with it a new world of opportunities. Opportunities for exploration and trade. The ship’s cargo hold was now laiden with silks, spices, and thirteen crates of vegetables. Though these thirteen crates sat in their own pile, kept separate and even corded off from everything else. A strange icy substance had formed on the inside of the hull in the corded off section.
The vegetables were not the ship’s food provisions. The ship had launched almost twelve weeks prior, though no-one grew at all agitated at the length of the journey. In fact, the atmosphere was mostly pleasant. The route had been very carefully plotted, as all journey’s were. But something interesting had been discovered by the ship’s financier; there was little to no reports of trouble along this route. No pirates, no whirlpools or infiniterrains. In truth, the only danger often sighted, was an island that all could see quite clearly already. If a ship’s course came too close to the island, it was simply never heard of, but those who gave it a wide berth always returned to port safely. The Rastavere did not intend to pass anywhere near as close as the closest surviving ship, and yet she was partially funded by a strange group of passengers; tourists.
Given the berth upon the ship, the sailors worked in three shifts. One shift slept, one was relaxing, and the third working. Many had taken to going through the motions of fishing during their respite. Though, very few fish would be able to keep up with the ship long enough to be caught by a fisherman anyway. In truth, this strange passtime was simply a cover from which to watch and chuckle at the passengers. Many of whom spent hours every day, staring through an unenchanted spyglass. One had grown excited one day when they had apparently spied a sea monster breaching the water around the forbidden island, though none of their associates believed their descriptions.
“It was at least 80ft long and as wide as the ship.” They had claimed. “No, not a whale. It was scaly like a snake. It didn’t have fins either, it was more like a lizard frill where our arms would be, and again near its waist. I swear!”
One of the gorun sailors, apparently content with the fishing he had done, meandered away from the tourists to sit beside a quiet human man. The two hung their legs off the edge of the ship between the railings of one of the higher decks. “Not wanting to deal with them today?” The gorun chuckled, scratching at the fur on the left side of his chest. “One of them is talkin’ about some weird tutu wearing sea snake this time.”
The human didn’t look up, simply watching the water crashing at and rolling along the sides of the ship. “The Nelcatra.” he mumbled, eyes darting across the breaking of the waves as if trying to memorise the chaos of the water itself.
“The what?” The sailor’s head movement could at first have been a curious glance but was quickly disguised as the stretching of his massive neck.
“The Nelcatra” The human repeated, finally looking up somewhat but not making eye contact with the gorilla-like gorun beside him. “The only creature named in Einodian waters.” He was clearly making some effort to look in the direction of the gorun, though seemed to watch past the man’s right ear toward the ocean in front of the ship instead. “A titanic, indestructible sea serpent. One story said it can swim through ships like they were made of water. Journal of Admiral Feren, 38 years ago.” The gorun turned to face the ocean again, turning his head slightly away from the human. The human nodded slightly before hanging his head over the edge once again to watch the breaking wake beneath their feet.
“Surely a Magister can kill it though, right?” The gorun was looking in the direction of the island, though he could see nothing breeching the water.
“I am an Arcanist. Magister’s work for royal courts.”
“An Arcanist then.”
“Is that why the crew are so relaxed? I shouldn’t need to, it has a territory. Only the plotted courses that enter the area are at risk. It shouldn’t attack us.” The human’s mouth continued moving after he finished talking, as though silently repeating a sequence of numbers.
The gorun’s large hand lifted to pat the humans shoulder before instead moving to rest on the railing as he pushed himself to standing. “We know what we’re doing, arcanist. We’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry.”
As the sailor walked away, the first thought to the arcanist’s mind was the simple; ‘so always says the first to die tragically.’ Before he hung his head in his arms at the cruelty of such an idea.
The sailor moved to one of the main masts of the ship. Reaching up slightly above his own head, his right hand gripped the wood as if the it was a simple children’s climbing wall. His left foot was able to grip the post just as firmly though only a small distance above the ground. Despite not having any ropes or ladders at hand, the gorun was able to ascend the mast. He passed several others, who upon seeing his arrival began to head down the rigging toward the deck.
At the top, his arm reached out to seize the edge of the platform, climbing up its side to pull himself into the small circular ‘room’. The Rastavere’s two crows nests were both rooved, though this one sat slightly higher than the other. “My turn” the large creature grinned at the small, ratlike crewmember who appeared half asleep in the bucket-like nest.
The ceratogi nodded, standing up and peering tentatively over the edge toward the rigging. “Need a hand?” The gorun asked, offering his arm to the smaller creature. The ceratogi shook his head, clambouring out of the bucket and slowly lowering himself onto the rigging. The sailor simply smiled, sitting on the large round platform/seat the ceratogi had been falling asleep on. Hands sitting on his knees, the big man relaxed against the top of the mast while leisurely sweeping the ocean with his eyes. Such was the nature of the world, that things did not vanish behind a raising ocean in the distance. Instead, everything was visible; simply growing smaller and smaller into the distance. And so, the crows nest did not exist to elevate the viewer in order to see more, but instead to remove the distractions of the people around and the waving sails above.
The gorun grabbed the two wooden batons that sat within the bucket with him, lightly tapping them at the air in front of him as if drumming privately to himself. It took almost all his self restraint to not tap his foot to the music in his head. His little game was cut short though, as his eyes fell upon a strange collection of ships in the distance. All the islands could be seen from where he sat, the world a complicated archipelago, ‘shattered lands’ as those who had seen it from this angle called it. But for as consistently the world was filled, a wedge was missing. A massive expanse thousands upon thousands of miles across this far out; lacking any islands. At least, there shouldn’t be any islands in the wedge, and yet he could see one. It was on the smaller side of islands, but surrounded by one massive harbour, moored at which were hundreds of ships larger than even the Rastavere.
The answer to the strange riddle of this island came quickly however. He could see the waters lapping at its edges, and from just the right angle; its wake. Three ships broke dock to head in advance of this strange structure. Standing quickly, the sailor moved to the edge of the bucket closest to the ships. The three foreign vessels appeared to be moving to intercept them. And so without question, he brought the batons down as hard as he could against the side of the crows nest. The sound rippled in the room around him before echoing out like the ringing of a great bell. No matter how much it hurt his ears, he didn’t stop. After the third strike, he watched as the human in the other crows nest followed suit.
The tolling of the bells did not go unnoticed far below either. Upon the sound reaching his ears, the captain looked up before following the angle of the watchmen out to sea. “Mister Alderwood. Who are they?” He called to the lower deck in front of him. The arcanist looked up at his name being called, before following the captains gesture out to sea. He could see little more detail than the captain, but pushed himself to standing and trudged up the stairs to stand beside the man in charge.
Alderwood, upon reaching the top deck, unbuckled and removed his belt. His leggings did not seem to require assistance staying where they were. Holding the belt as a loop in his left hand, the arcanist crossed his middle finger over the pointer finger of his right hand with the two fingers at a right angle to his palm, with his index arched and smallest finger pointed straight. After finding just the right angle to sit his hand in the air, with the thumb pointed at his own face, he looked to the loop and said “Threj Rh’tlay.” At his word, the belt moved to binding a perfect circle. It was almost as if a force inside the bounds of the belt was pushing on it in all directions at once. As if dismissively, he handed the belt loop to the captain.
Through the loop, the world was orders magnified. One could see however far and to whatever detail they could imagine. Raising the loop to head height, the captain was able to more easily see the designs aboard the ships, and the creatures that crewed them. “Battle stations!” The captain roared at top volume. “Break’s over. Passengers below deck!”
The helmsman glanced over somewhat nervously. “I thought there wasn’t any pirates?”
“There aren’t. And now we know why.” The captain handed the belt back to Alderwood. “Time you finished paying your passage Magister.”
Taking the belt, the arcanist opened his mouth to retort but the captain had already turned away to begin shouting orders to the crew. The ringing of the crows nests had finally ended by the time he raised the loop to head height.
The ships were larger than any he’d seen before; immense warships armed with strangely ornamented cannons. Though the captain likely didn’t know, he could tell the devices were magically enhanced. Long, thick planks lay on deck at odd intervals, strapped to down to prevent their sliding around, but attached to the deck via a metal rod at one end. The crew however, caught his attention. Nearly 10ft tall each, the creatures bodies were more muscular than an gorun bodybuilder. Their heads had slightly elongated faces, with their foreheads giving way to a large frill that swept back. They seemed to have a smaller, but sharper, frill wrapped around their jawline and pointed downward. One of the creatures stood almost idly on deck, looking toward the Rastavere and perhaps even directly at Alderwood. It tapped beside its right eye with one finger three times while grinning.
The Rastavere was a bustle of activity. Even those who were suppose to sleep had joined in the action. The helm was turned fast, the ship lurching and groaning at the request. The captain paid no attention to the arcanist however as he glanced back toward their pursuers. The Lastragonian ships continued to gain on them, their speed likely magically enhanced. “BRACE” the human captain roared at his crew. With no ship yet in ramming distance, many of the non-human crew simply looked confused at each other. The humans that had served aboard when the ship had been at war, clutched the ship with all their might. Those among the rigging wove themsirwinians into place such that naught but the sinking of the ship could dislodge them against their desire. Thankfully, much of those that remained simply followed suit.
The captain moved to the centre of the second highest deck and pointed his arm at the two largest sails he could. As he clenched his fist, a red light swirled among the beautiful detail of his bracer before an immense rush of wind almost lifted him off his feet. The hurricane force winds were caught in the sails, though their displeasure was palpable to even those far below the decks. One of the newer human crewmembers and a couple of the ceratogis were thrown clear of the ship. Some were saved by the long arms of the goruny crew. But the captain couldn’t focus on a few lives lost just yet. Not while everyone was in danger.
Despite the captain’s best effort, despite the energy the bracer’s magic could put into the sails, the lastragonian ships continued to close the distance between them. “Alderwood!” the captain shouted, glancing off the side of the ship to see the front of one of the pursuing ships. “A little speed if you could?”
“Ask me later” the arcanist roared back, his tone almost frantic. The ship rocked violently, the wood of the deck warping slightly and the colours in the grain running as if it was merely oil being washed around.
The sailor in the tallest crows nest could not see the deck for the sails full of wind. It was only now that the ‘enemy’ ships were so close that he could see the creatures manning them. Despite all the action aboard the four ships (the Rastavere and its pursuers), the gorun could see two lastragonians sitting almost leisurely on their decks, making strange gestures with their massive hands as they spoke calmly to each other.
The water around the enemy ships behaved strangely. Instead of breaking against the hull or rolling away as it sliced through the waves, the water rose like saw teeth. Each wave gripped at the hull almost deliberately and pulled the ship forward with it. He didn’t understand how any of this worked, but the gorun had seen the magister cast a few spells; he knew what it looked like. Raising one baton, he struck at the roof of his small room only once. The human lookout in the other nest looked to him, seeing only that the gorun’s free hand was stretched out in front of him, with the baton held as if a knocked arrow.
The gorun was crazy, those were lastragonian’s. He wasn’t going to manage anything with an arrow. With a sigh, the human crawled out of his nest, scurrying down the rigging and around the continual column of wind until his voice would be heard upon the deck. “Warbow to nest 1! Warbow to nest 1!” Another gorun, glancing up toward him, nodded before lumbering across the deck. Deciding he would be of more help among the rigging or preparing the passengers for boarding, the human didn’t reascend to his post.
The lone lookout heard, in short time, a light tapping on the far side of his nest. Glancing out, he could see a ceratogi clutching to the rigging like her life depended on it. The bow half wrapped around her, tapping its tip on the wall of the nest while the covered quiver rattled on her back. With one large arm, the gorun gripped the ceratogi by the shoulder and hoisted her into the nest with him. “Thank you. You should go, it’s going to get bad up here.” He patted the small creature’s back lightly, shaking her upperhalf with each tap, as she handed him the bow. The weapon was slightly taller than the hairy sailor, and its draw was such that the ceratogi’s body didn’t seem to flex it even slightly as she slipped out of it.
“That thing makes a great anchor! Unless the wind cuts out, I’m not heading back without it!” She then handed him the quiver, before lowering herself as much as possible and flattening her body against one of the nests walls. The quiver held only nine arrows, though he didn’t blame the ceratogi, he was impressed she had carried all this that far.
Positioning himself to see the ships, the gorun scanned once again for the two spellcasters. They seemed calm and carefree where they sat. The space between them and the nest was strange, the image of things distorted and shook. Colours changed at random and it looked almost like reality itself was being ripped apart and restitching itself in places. Propping the bow up, he knocked the arrow and drew. For many species, gorun arrows could be called javelins, but it was simply because of the sheer length of their arms that they could achieve such immense pulls.
With the shot lined up as best he could, the sailor released. The arrow flew down, spinning in the air before one of the strange flickerings of reality passed through it and it seemed to simply unravel like a rope being pulled apart fibre by fibre. He drew another arrow, taking aim once again.
“It won’t help!” the little voice in the bucket with him squeaked up at him. “They have too much armour. Both clothes and hide.” But he ignored her. He didn’t need to kill it, or even injure it.
The second arrow was released.
Alderwood stood exposed on the deck of the ship, hands moving blisteringly fast. It was all he could do to interrupt or redirect or even slightly tweak the enemy spells. He was stuck on the defensive as the enemy ships closed in around them, near helpless to aid anyone but to protect them from the haphazard magic. At times his manipulations were themsirwinians manipulated. He had to track all spells both his opponents were casting, as well as every change he made and every change they added. And then it happened.
An opening. The minutest distraction broke the concentration of one, and he was able to turn the others spell upon him. The massive creature’s screech was like that of a deflating balloon as a red mist seemed to whistle out of every pore of its skin. Its muscles deflated and its body fell quickly limp as it began to shrivel up in a cloud of its own vaporous blood and tissue. Leaving only one to contend with.
The captain finally lowered his hand, his arm growing tired and it becoming apparent that the bracer’s magic wasn’t going to help them escape. Sprinting up the stairs, he watched as strange lines of light began to appear in the water around them. Green lines wrapped around the enemy ships, becoming strange cones out the front of the vessels. Orange cones seemed to stretch out of the water on either side of the Rastavere. “Alderwood?”
“They have a tactics spell among them. I opened it.” The human was still caught up in his furious ‘argument’ with the spellcaster of another ship.
“They use the same colours we would?”
“Its in your head. You create the colours, not the spell!”
The captain nodded, staring off the side of the ship as he slowly approached the helm. “So Red’s good for us then?” He grabbed a spoke of the helm, watching as the helmsman released and stepped aside to let him.
“I suppose, why?” the arcanist shouted back, unable to break eye contact with his opponent. The captain didn’t answer, turning the ship slightly toward the island. Two rings surrounded the island; red and yellow. There was an eruption of noise on the ship as the crew noticed which heading they had now adopted. The lastragonian ships turned to keep on either side of their prey, closing in to boarding range rather than simply in line with the vessel.
The ship didn’t slow. Ripples could be seen on the surface of the water within the red area and the volume of the crew rose higher and higher. As the Rastavere broke the yellow line, the ship to their port turned away, breaking off pursuit as the one to their starboard increased the pace. The ship was moving to turn in front of them. Lastragonian warriors were lined along the port side of the other ship as it moved around toward the bow. The choice was simple; turn with them, or risk ramming their pursuers and being boarded.
The captain shouted a single word, evidently understood by the enemy as they readied themsirwinians to board. “BRACE” The bow of the Rastavere slammed hard into the front end of their enemy, rocking the ship slightly as it was pushed over the red line and properly into einodian waters. Only then did the captain begin to turn the ship, grinding hull against hull as the monstrous sailors prepared to board them.
The enemy ship lurched suddenly, as if struck by an immense wave. Many of its crew sliding slightly about the deck as the ship listed away from the Rastavere. When the Rastavere itself was struck, the blow echoed throughout the ship more meatily. The merchant vessel, though once prepared for battle, was not as resilient as its adversary. The rush of people from below deck told the crew all they needed to know. But the two ships continued to move, their masts caught in the rigging of each other as they dragged themsirwinians deeper in the red territory.
Again the ships were struck, this time from behind as they seemed to grind to a halt in the water. The evidently stupid decision left the captain with the hardest choice he had had to make in years. His eyes swept over the lastragonian ship before back to the crew and passengers. Swallowing his pride and closing his eyes, he made his order. “Abandon ship! Swim to land! Abandon ship!”
He did not have a chance to watch what chaos erupted, as he was seized about the neck by a single massive hand and turned to face the frilled skull of his opponent.
The ship was rocking. There was screaming and the roaring of races both alien and familiar. But the captain could not react. He couldn’t join any fight or try to protect those abandoning the vessel. Instead, all he could do was watch as the deck grew close, feel the pain coarse through ever muscle upon the impact before watching it withdraw before coming back again. “You’ve killed my crew” the Lastragonian captain snarled, slamming the smaller creature into his own ship for the fourth time, cracking both boards and bones. “You would have lived well” again and again the smaller creature was smashed into the floor. “You would have lived. But no.” it held the small man up where it could look in his eyes. “Looks like I’m feeding you to the beast myself.”
He could not fight back. Even if he could pull himself to move despite the pain, his body was too far ruined to accept his orders. He could feel the great creature’s hand gripping his skull like one might hold a ball for sport. He was being dragged across the floor, supported only by his head. Only one eye could open enough to see the carnage, watch as strange balls of spiked legs rolled and crawled up the ships onto deck. He could see the arcanist being seized by an gorun and pulled away from attempting to interfere. Yes, flee.
With the greatest effort, the captain moved his arm, toward drawing his sword. But his broken fingers could not create the grip about it. He could feel himself be lifted over the side of the ship, seeing only the ocean spread out before him and the tiny specs of distant islands. Unceremoniously, as if he were an unwanted toy, the man was thrown from the side of the ship and into the already bloodsoaked water.