Book of Tides (Full Version)

All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Legends and Lore] >> Writers of Lore >> [The Bookshelves] >> Collaborations



Message

Eukara Vox -> Book of Tides (7/1/2010 1:27:36)

Prologue
by Eukara Vox and Alexander Shiveran

The library's stillness and quiet left Eukara Vox wrapped in a cocoon of perfection as she read the books she had Master Samak pull for her a few days ago. Books piled up on her table—books on water, books on the seas of various worlds and books on the elemental creatures that inhabit the water plane—and she was lost in the wonders and details conveyed to her through perfectly written words.

The Pearl, Moby Dick, Book of the Seas... Terran books that had made their way onto her shelves gave her worlds to explore. She found the Book of the Seas most interesting, filled with colorful pictures, scientific details and wonderful narratives on discovery. She touched the pictures, wishing to be there.

A small gray form slipped silently into the room, amber eyes contemplating the reader silently. The feline moved forwards towards the woman slowly, strangely intelligent eyes for a cat taking in the stacks of books piled around the room. Slash purred, twining between the legs of the chair Eukara was sitting in, and rubbed up against the librarian's leg before hopping into her lap lightly. "Lady Vox, I do believe that you have a visitor." The familiar conveyed the psychic impression of a soft laugh and a smile as she nuzzled against Eukara gently.

"Slash!" Eukara set her book down and wrapped her arms around the cat familiar. She scritched Slash vigorously, smiling. "I am so glad to see you. This place was getting too quiet!"

Eukara laid her head on Slash, listening to the deep resonating purr the familiar emitted. She sighed. "I have to say that purring is the most wonderful sound in the universe. You say that I have a visitor?"

The familiar purred again, laughing and rubbing her head against Eukara's face gently. "I am glad you are happy to see me." Her eyes sparkled mischievously and she glanced toward the door she had entered from. "And yes, I did. In fact, I believe that he will be here momentarily. Though, as usual, he is late. I cannot say I know why that is, but I was always told men were supposed to wait on women."

"It is nice to be waited on by a good man." Eukara giggled. "You brought Alex with you? I finally get to meet him in person! I can't wait; I have been looking forward to this ever since the first time he sent a story to me. Rarely does a letter accompany a story."

"I do believe that a wise man once said that a mage was never late." Alex entered the room, smiling as he looked around, taking in the sights. Turning towards Eukara, he gave a short, formal bow, eyes twinkling as he straightened. "I must presume that you are Lady Vox. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you."

Standing, Eukara smiled at Alex and nodded. "Indeed, a mage is never late, but arrives precisely when he means to." She inclined her head. "I am Eukara Vox."

Alex grinned. "Alexander Shiveran."

"I am so glad that you were able to finally make it here in person. What brings you here? Hopefully, it is not in regards to Commander Gorse?" She raised an eyebrow, prepared for the worst.

He looked around the room and laughed softly. "I'm glad that I made it, and as for Gorse, well, let's just say that he is... in good hands." Slash purred contentedly in agreement, and Alex glanced at the feline for a moment before continuing with a wry smile. "You see, the good Commander, as Slash informed me, seemed to doubt the power of children's hopes and dreams. I found a nice place known as a daycare on a little out-of-the-way plane and I plan to leave him under the care of some friends there. I imagine he'll be a changed man in a few months."

"Daycare... why does that sound familiar?" Eukara slowly sat down as she pondered the word. She scrunched her nose, deep in thought. "Oh.. OH! I know what that is. I read a children's book once from Terra that spoke of a daycare where toys get moved and then played with." She looked up at Alex and laughed. "That is the most brilliant idea!"

Alex chuckled, waving off the comment. "Thank you. I have, on occasion, had a few of those. Slash, of course, will insist that she put them there for me to find."

"Only because it is the truth."

"You know Slash, that's a very rude thing to say." Alex grinned, going down to one knee and gathering the familiar into his arms as he stood again. "It's good to see you again, Slash. I trust you behaved yourself?" He looked towards Eukara, smiling lightly.

"Oh, Slash was a delight. She has such a great sense of humor. I was very grateful for her company." Eukara reached out, scratching Slash's ears.

"I'm glad to hear that." Alex stroked Slash gently, the familiar closing her eyes and purring in the mage's arms.

"I was just going through my books. There has been a surging influx of stories and articles on water: everything from the perfect taste of drinking water to tales of the high seas. I am trying to prepare my library for binding these stories together. What have you been up to?"

He smiled softly at Slash for a moment before looking back to Eukara. "Ah, well, as I said in my last letter, I had some business that I needed to attend to. It would seem, though, that there is little rest for the wicked. I only just returned when I received a letter from an old friend asking me for a favor. Have you heard of the Elemental Championship?"

Eukara sat back in her chair and indicated that Alex should take a seat. "Elemental Championship... it sounds intriguing, but no, I am not aware of it. Is it in any books?"

Alex sat, adjusting Slash gently on his lap, the feline curling up into a ball and to all appearances dropping off into a nap. "I should think they are, but then, I can certainly forgive you for not having ready any book about them. After all, you do seem to have quite the collection on hand." He smiled, waving towards the stacks of books. "The Elemental Championship is a tournament held each year in the city of Bren. It is a trial by combat for the entrants, who pit themselves against one another to earn the favor of the Elemental Lords. It is said that the Champion may have her heart's desire granted to her upon her victory."

"Intense! And these entrants? From where do they hail? Do they have magic? Are they favored by some spiritual being or other?" Eukara sat forward, her curiosity now fully awake.

The mage laughed softly, petting the quietly purring Slash. "Ah, but that is the wonder of it, really. They come from all over, mages, warriors, rogues. All types, all races, all beliefs, it is truly an amazing thing to behold." He shook his head, continuing. "And the power. It is amazing, simply standing at the gate of one of the Arenas, feeling the power of the crowd, the sheer noise alone enough to vibrate the rocks beneath your feet. It's like hearing the rumble of the surf coming in, simply indescribable."

"It sounds wonderful." She looked off, trying to imagine such a thing. In all her travels, this was something very new. Yes, several worlds held things like gladiator contests and things called Olympiads, but this seemed to be above and beyond what those civilizations pictured. "I envy you, Alex."

Alex's smile faded slightly, and he looked down at Slash, ruffling the fur around her ears lightly. "It was not all beauty and glory, Eukara. Death is an ugly thing, and the Elemental Championship may be held in the honor of the Elemental Lords, but people die."

Silence hung for a while after Alex spoke. Eukara's face fell, her more romanticised thoughts of the championships shattered. "I had no idea. I... guess I had hoped that they were above that. Still, the sheer power displayed must be awe-inspiring."

She sighed, as her dwindling vision of the championships escaped her imagination. "Is there an Arena for water?"

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, there is, and they call it the Fountain Arena." Alex suddenly laughed, scratching behind Slash's ears. "Unfortunately, I would be hard pressed to tell you exactly what it looks like. You see, while the Arenas are largely the same from year to year, the Fountain Arena is the exception. It has been quite different every year that I have seen it, or heard about it for that matter."

"That makes sense, actually. The seas are ever changing, ever moving. To have a water arena that is static would seem almost a sin against the element." Eukara looked around, then rested her eyes on the table. A scroll appeared on top of a book, which sat on a papyrus document. "Just like my reality, apparently."

Alex eyed the scroll as it appeared, and laughed. "Ah, it seems that you are just as busy as I expected. I imagine that Gorse's little escapade set you behind as well." He chuckled, stroking Slash one last time. "I should likely be on my way, in any case. It is a long journey to Bren." The mage smiled. "And Slash will never let me hear the end of it if I'm late for the tournament."

"I am sure she wouldn't, but I would expect no less from her." Eukara looked out of the window briefly, the illusory picture of trees and flowers covering the actual amalgamation of all worlds outside her door. "I suppose you must go. You are welcome to stop by any time you want... as is Slash. And, well, if I find time..." She glanced around as a book popped out of nothing, landing on the floor next to the table. "Maybe I could find these Elemental Championships and watch? Even if there is death, I should still like to see it."

Alex smiled, standing and lifting Slash gently. "Perhaps, perhaps." He looked around slowly, his smile taking on a sad quality. "This is a good place, Eukara. In a way I envy you, though surely not all the work it must bring. Still," the mage shook his head, smiling, "there is something peaceful about this place. I'll do my best to stop by again some time."

He turned to go, chuckling lightly. "Oh, and I do apologize, but I'll have to add to the burden." He shifted Slash into one arm and waved, the gesture a combination farewell and a spell, causing another scroll to materialize on the already overburdened desk. "Enjoy your reading, Eukara."

Eukara smiled, laughing lightly. "I was hoping that you would have something for me. I cannot wait to see what you have gathered concerning the sea. Your findings are always intriguing." She picked up the scroll reverently. "Farewell, Alex. May your work bring you pride and your time well spent."

Sighing as he disappeared from her library, Eukara Vox picked up the Book of the Seas and headed into a little known part of the library—her private quarters. She dropped onto her bed as lazy embroidered dragonflies flew across the coverlet's surface, book and scroll still in her hands. "How did Archanius do this all alone?"

She rolled onto her stomach and opened the book to a picture of Terran coral reefs. Ominous sharks sailed through the water as tiny colorful fish guarded the coral heads. She stared at the picture, then waved her hand over the display. When she removed her hand, everything in the picture moved.

She sighed heavily. "I want to go there."

Suddenly, the room was empty. Only an open book with moving pictures and a scroll lay on the bed.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/12/2010 14:35:47)

Forgot the Sunscreen
By: Jadugarr



Day One

The good thing about being on a boat is that every single tourist around you is expendable. Kate Smith, the pale one—well, sort of a mix between some pearly foot cream and Homer Simpson—she’s expendable. In fact, she’s going to be dead.

At least, she’s probably going to be dead. She hasn’t actually been offed yet, but give it a few moments. We got someone on the job. I mean, don’t hold your breath, `cause we’re still only a couple of miles offshore—honestly, could you imagine if we did it now? That’s just sloppy work, that is. Tossing a broad overboard from here; it’d wash up in half a day! Next thing you know, all of us are convicted and hung. In all likelihood some of us would probably end up chopped and grilled, served in some diner; some fancy guy calls over the waiter, complains about the taste of his discolored “steak.” Man files a lawsuit—wins. That restaurant then goes out of business, and the chef is pulled in a cell. Give him twenty years, they’ll probably let him go free, but it turns out there’ll be some pissed wife, father, son, or daughter who’s still holding a nasty one for the fellow and chops the chap up for just trying to make a little penny way back when. So, yeah, but no, that Kate in 216B is probably going to be bloating in water in a good eight hours or so.

Basically, that’s what our boat is. You got a grudge on whatever, you buy them a special ticket, and we mark them as soon as they board. Hits hidden among all the other expendables. What? Some folks happen to cross paths with you while they’re carrying their daughter to the toilet and you’re dragging some bloody pillowcases down the hallway? That’s a practical problem. And we’ve got the smartest men aboard for when it comes to practical problems. Bullet for the Pappy, chloroform bedsheets for the Misses, and antifreeze pops for the kiddy.

Woah. That was grim. Wasn’t really as “haha” as I thought. ‘Course we don’t kill kids. What are we, monsters? We drop them off at an orphanage, using the buddy system at that. Each one's got a buddy. They stick to their buddy, they’ll be all good and well. Unless they’re thirteen. That’s the cut-off age. Then they get the antifreeze pops—that’s just business.

Day Two

And business is looking… well, it’s looking fair. People like to kill people, so the hits are out there. I mean, the whole thing is under tight wraps, so, like, we’re not too viral. Overall, I feel like we may actually be making more of a profit just sailing people from point “A” to point “B.” Honestly? This whole killing ordeal kind of restricts us from spreading our popularity. And then there’s the money we have to pay over to some workers for the psychological evaluations, support groups, and sociopaths anonymous, which really started off as no more than a little joke on my behalf, but turns out there’s actually some pretty messed up pals when it comes to killing folks for cash. Analogy-wise, I thought we were like some snappy Italian mob offing people above the law; however it’s starting to appear that we’re more like hobos shanking other hobos for liquor, to be honest.

So, yeah, business is happening. Well, no, it was happening. Now some broad marched into my bedroom—well, office. Yeah, it’s got a bed, but I’ve got a picture of some oily stud stretched out over a slab of bear fur and a few sharpened pencils, so it’s more like an office—and says to me she’s “out.” She’s out? Yeah, right. Apparently her son is on board and some twisted little chap sent him as a hit. Neither of us is that into the little basket of sunshine; she would’ve enjoyed emptying a clip into him behind sealed doors. Turns out, as she walked into his room, she found him between a noose and a chair. Apparently it lead to some late motherly bonding.

What’s a businessman to do? A boat full of recyclable trash and the one thing I need to throw away is going to pollute my waters. Kill a part of the crew and rumor will spread back like wildfire. The respectful man would have given the mother what she had wanted—but that would've meant me double-crossing a client. The smart guy probably would have—well, I honestly ain’t got the faintest clue what the smart man would have done, know do I? Would’ve fancied that leap in rationale.

Didn’t take too long to work out all the measures, though. I managed a discussion with some of the smarter crew members, then took a short trip down the halls to review a few kiddies on the buddy system learning the art of using an oar whilst at sea. Had to toss a few waking moms out into the water with a new pair shoes too; it sort of became fun after the second one, and at least we know we’re not dealing with witches, eh?

Anyhow, I’m now sailing into the morning—sort of wondering if twelve-year-olds know how to manage a compass—drifting my lone way. Something’s poetic about this little, yellow raft. As the sun peaks fully from the waves I hear the taste of some Composition C washing away some years of bad memories.

I solve practical problems, I do.

…Aw, dammit.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/14/2010 19:53:45)

A Life of the Sea
By: Shreder

I came from the sea…

A mixture of debris washes up upon the sandy beach, where locals scavenge what they can from the wreckage. They do not see it as stealing the property of others, for it was the sea that brought it to them. Suddenly, amidst the flotsam, the piercing cry of a child is heard—my cry. And, like the sea’s other gifts, I too am accepted…

I was raised upon the sea…

Ten years have passed. I stand now in a small fishing skiff, helping the men of the village where I can. They do not let me help them bring in the fish yet, but the supply of chores to be done to keep the boat and nets in working order seems never-ending. They are kind to me, however, and I only occasionally wonder why my skin is of a color unlike their own…

I lived upon the sea…

Twenty more years have passed. The village in which I grew up has now been made a colony of men with skin like my own, who came in large ships unlike any I had ever seen, gliding elegantly over the azure sea. I myself am now the captain of one of these, a merchant shipping vessel, stopping on land only to drop off cargo and pick up new supplies. I have neither wife nor children; my love is only for the sea…

I grew old upon the sea…

Another twenty years have come and gone, twenty more years in which my life has been intricately intertwined with the sea. My mercantile business has been exceedingly successful. I could have settled down on land long ago, had I so desired. But the sea continues to call, and I, unfailing, continue to answer...

I died upon the sea…

The storm was sudden, unexpected. It arose out of nowhere, and my ship slipped beneath the foamy peaks of the storm-whipped waves. The sea has called me home…

I sleep beneath the sea…

The years pass unheeded now, slipping by like sand through a sieve. Perhaps the sea knew I could never leave her, and so granted me a resting place within herself. I loved her all my life, and now have been given the chance to spend eternity with her…



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/16/2010 18:52:42)

Aquatic thoughts
by balubamboto

The time has come once again to venture out to sea.
A crew of five with one small ship, on high tides need to be;
They must depart and go in search for treasures that give life,
Must fish and catch a lot this time, bring home to kids and wife!

Everything is ready and they will set sail now;
Prepared for working hard, the sailors make a vow,
To not come home empty-handed, like they did last year,
For this would mean sheer hunger... it is abundantly clear!

Some time must pass to reach the grounds where all their hopes lie
The sea means very much to them, they think of her and sigh.
She’s full of life, and seems one being; she can be calm or mad.
At times her face shines in the sun, or tears up when she's sad.

So many times her beauty has left them enchanted,
This can be good or bad, 'cause if you get planted
And don’t see her dark side, you can lose it all:
Family, friends, your life, can all be struck by her call.

When she feels giving and luck comes by, a sailor can get lots,
It’s still not easy, the work is hard, one has to search many knots,
If she feels tired of all the scabs, she sets the winds on them,
From all the calm, great storms can form; can blow you off the stem!

They have arrived! The special place! It’s here they "set up shop";
The sun is warm, the sea is calm, overboard, the gear, they drop.
Soon they start catching fish, and even better, crab!
The crew has reached its goal. Sailing towards home, they gab.

But all is not well around, the wind picks up, storm clouds appear,
A violent storm has now unleashed, the sailors' hearts feel fear,
They fight the danger and show their skill, and barely make it through,
The sea’s in charge and lets them know. She’s pleased, though, with this crew!

The crew of five and their small ship have finally come to town,
Bringing food for their families, they managed not to drown.
In five or so months from now, they’ll have to set sail again,
They can’t wait to touch the sea, and meet her in her den!



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/20/2010 20:46:36)

Water Dancer
by Red Blizzard


You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." - Mahatma Gandhi

She woke up with a pain in her head so strong she wanted to scream. But when she opened her mouth, water rushed in: torrents of cold, thick, salty water that flooded her lungs, setting her entire body on fire. She snapped her mouth shut instantly, but the damage was done. Her muscles lurched involuntarily, jerking her about as she struggled to breathe, finding no air to sustain herself. Consciousness ebbed and flowed, bringing a faint ringing to her ears, and images rushed through her mind as, with eyes squeezed tight and mouth closed against the deluge, she waited for death. So this was drowning…

“You can breathe now, child.”

Her eyes flew open in shock as a thousand things materialized before her. She was in some sort of underwater grotto, covered with sea stars and anemones that danced with the current. At the far end of the grotto was an entrance, opening up into a vast kelp forest that stretched out as far as the eye could see in the clear blue water. She could tell they weren’t too far from the surface, for the sun was still barely visible through the pulsing waves on the surface. Light streamed down in rivulets, scattering among the kelp leaves in little strings that highlighted the deep, olive green color of life here. Fish could be seen darting in and out between kelp branches, scales flashing with color. For a moment, she merely lay where she was, blissfully watching the scenery through the grotto entrance. Then it hit her: she was underwater. The realization drove her into a panic, and she began to struggle as the fire returned to her lungs.

“Stop thinking about that; you’re safe here.”

She paused, letting the pulse of life return to her. Looking around, she saw a beautiful woman floating in one corner of the grotto, a serene look on her face. Dark hair floated about her face, and as sunlight rippled over her through the grotto entrance, she caught a tint of vivid red. Just like her own… She froze, and held a strand of her own hair up to the light. The familiar crimson red was gone, replaced by an electric blue. The hair itself was longer, and would have stretched past her waist on land. This wasn’t her hair! She kicked off the bed of kelp leaves she had been lying on, banging her head against the ceiling; she ignored the pain as she looked around. The woman in the corner held up a hand-mirror for her benefit, and she gingerly picked it up, afraid of what she was about to see.

“I had to regrow everything. When I found you along the shore, your hair was gone and your skull was showing through your face. I thought you were dead at first.”

She cringed as memory was restored to her. The man with the black wings… the chains and the mask… he had doused her with acid during their encounter on the desert beach. The last thing she could recall was collapsing on top of his dead remains, her spear still quivering where it had stuck into his head. She vaguely remembered someone telling her about this man, and her chances of survival against him. Given the odds, she should have been dead.

“In a way, you were dead when I reached you. The young man with you managed to bind your soul to your bones so that you wouldn’t leave this world so easily. It was all I could manage to reconstruct a body around your soul.”

She smiled as she remembered her companion. So he made it after all, even if he couldn’t keep his promise to be there to fight along side with her. She would have to thank him for that the next time she saw him… if he still recognized her. She jumped back into the moment, eyes focusing on the image before her. Out of the mirror stared a face that might have been hers had she been born to a different mother, in a different place. Her nose was different, her ears more angular, her eyes a different shade of blue. She raised a hand to feel her features, almost wanting to cry at the stranger she had become.

“I modeled you after your father, with a little bit thrown in from myself. The hair I couldn’t do anything about, the seawater kept altering the red dye, so I had to settle with blue. Come now, your face may not be your own, but at least you aren’t dead, child. Your father didn’t give his life away fighting the Empire so that you could meet the same fate.”

Her father… She turned to face the woman in the corner once more. If she knew her father, then she must be her grandmother…

“What, your father never told you about me?”

She shook her head, but when she opened her mouth to explain, no words and a stream of bubbles issued from her mouth. The woman clicked her tongue.

“Never learned how to speak underwater, did you? Just let the water pour into your soul. Your body and the ocean around you share the same heart, surely you share the same voice as well?”

She opened her mouth once more, stretching out her arms like she had done so many times on land, feeling for the tendrils of power that had brought the current of magic to her fingertips so many times before. Only this time, the power came too readily, bursting forth too soon, and a whirlpool of water was stirred up inside the grotto, whipping her hair sideways. The other woman frowned and calmed the current down with a flick of her wrist.

“You clearly have some ways to go with control, and your method is a bit clumsy, but you have the power alright. Too much power. I doubt even my grandmother was as strong as you are now. But enough on that. Try speaking now.”

“Ummm…”

“Yes, very good…”

“You’re…my grandmother?”

“Yes, yes I am. How come Eric never spoke about me?”

“My father? He died before I was born.”

“Oh. I didn’t know he went so early. And your mother, Mae?”

“She didn’t tell me much about my family.”

“My dear child, you don’t even know your own family? Then again, I don’t blame you too much. With all the hardship your mother went through, she could hardly be expected to instruct you in your family tree. Well, to set things straight, I am a sea nymph.”

“Wait, so…”

“Yes, we are at my home, out in this part of the ocean we nymphs call Eira. We have come a long way from the shores of the Southern Desert where I found you. But I brought you here so that I can instruct you properly in the ways of water, of which I must admit you have been rather slovenly taught so far.”

“Well, I’ve been improvising most of the magic on my own to protect myself…”

“And that, my child, is a very very dangerous thing to attempt. Water magic without proper control can lead to disaster, but in the right hands, it is the most potent of all forms of magic!”

“But the elders said…”

“Those elders were fools. They only comprehended the power of human ice mages, and because they see water as but another form of ice, they wrongly assume that water magic is the same as ice magic, and weaker. That was the same mistake your father made when he went with my husband to study ice magic on land. He didn’t have the patience to spend a year studying the ways of water, so he spent three months with a mediocre ice mage and considered himself done.”

“A year?”

“Yes, child, I intend to teach you the magic your father should have learned, and after a year’s worth of instruction, you should be ready to go back to the land you came from and face down the dangers in motion there. Now, come with me, I have to show you something.”

The woman floated over to the grotto entrance and sailed out into the kelp forest. The girl tried to follow, swimming through the water, but a current pushed her back into the grotto. Her grandmother turned.

“Use magic and propel yourself forward, you should at least know that much, yes?”

She concentrated, using magic to shift the water around her. An instant later, she blasted out of the grotto, swimming loops around stalks of kelp, the raw energy of magic coursing through her veins, exhilarating and endless. Her grandmother quickly caught up with her and motioned for her to follow. Together, they threaded their way through the kelp forest at breakneck speeds, heading deeper into the ocean. As they went, the girl spotted faces in the water, watching her with eyes that glinted with amusement. But her grandmother led her past these faces, and they disappeared altogether the deeper they went. At one point, dancing lines of sunlight no longer reached the seabed. Then, the sunlight ceased to dance altogether, becoming still and somber as the seabed fell away into the darkness and the kelp forest ended, revealing the yawning expanse of open ocean that stretched forever onwards, immense and endless. Here, her grandmother pointed to the surface, and they both rose upwards, breaking the surface. The girl looked around, unable to see any sign of land in any direction save one: a single, dark dot on the horizon to the east.

“That is one of the last pieces of land untouched by mankind.”

She jumped, unable to recognize the wizened voice beside her. Turning, she was suddenly confronted by an old woman treading water, snowy white hair streaming down her back. The woman smiled at her discomfiture and submerged. When she went back under, she found her grandmother to be the beautiful, crimson-haired woman from before.

“The sea is rejuvenating, all-giving. Life sprang up from its depths, and life flourished within it long before the first creatures began to crawl on land. When humans first began learning to control magic, the ways of the sea were the ways they understood the least, and thus were least able to control. Even now, while humans live and die on land, struggling to prolong their miserable lifespan with magic, the ocean holds life that has lived forever, long beyond the knowledge of magic and the light of the moon. Coral lives on in the great reefs of the world, while the mighty whales, lords of the ocean, live on beyond their deaths, keeping others alive with their bodies when their souls have joined the stars in the sky. You must learn to understand this before you are ready to control the magic in the palm of your hand. Follow me.” The grandmother dove straight downwards into the depths of the ocean, the girl following at a slightly slower pace, uncertain. She had entered the depths of a lake before, only to find horror and death down where the light never reached.

They swam for some time in silence, the ocean never still, but rarely speaking, calmly slumbering out in the concealed open under the rippling blue surface. Clear light became murky the deeper they went, then vanished altogether. In the dark, with only a helping hand to guide her, she felt a shudder run through her body. Then, far below, she saw twinkling lights, scattering here and there like sparks of fire on a dark night. But these sparks were a cold, ghostly blue, arranged in little lines that scurried through the darkness. The hand guided her towards the lights, which flared up as they approached, revealing the tiny, darting forms of lanternfish. By their glow, grandmother pointed out to her the seafloor. Embedded in the sand, hulking and skeletal, were the rotting remains of an entire fleet of ships. Here and there, masts stuck up like thunderstruck trees, crusted with barnacles. Below, the girl could see rotting timbers and more. Here and there, a boot or worse, an arm, surrounded by the wriggling bodies of eels searching for scraps of flesh.

“Remember that island?” The girl nodded in reply, too horrified to speak. “This is all that’s left of an armada sent by the Empire to capture the island. What they seek there, be it land or resources, I cannot say. What I can say is that an invisible hand is at work, and what they seek is not what the Empire seeks. Someone wants to secure that island and release the fifth seal.” The girl suddenly turned to her grandmother, alarmed. Someone before had told her that the five seals had been created as safeguards against another realm, the realm of…

“Father Time is behind those seals. Humans, in their quest for power and immortality, have grown foolhardy. Fortunately, a sudden storm destroyed these ships, but should another fleet come, the sea nymphs are likely to destroy it before the island is taken. Four seals have already been destroyed, and should the last one be broken, all life will be imperiled. Of course humans are too ignorant to understand what that implies, but look here!” She pointed to a half-eaten skeleton, fish swarming about it. “Even in death, there is life! Humans can only understand one arc of a greater cycle involving all living things. In trying to break out of that cycle, they threaten everything else that forms it. The day humans attain immortality, the rest of the world will be granted certain death. Of course, I did not bring you all the way here to lecture you on human nature. No, there is someone here I want you to meet, who should be here any moment now…”

Suddenly, a tentacle lazily rose out of the darkness, stretching towards them. Thicker than the trunk of a tree, and twice the length of one, it towered over the both of them in the watery depths. The girl recoiled in shock, suddenly human again. Uncontrollable fear seemed to seize her by the limbs, guiding her actions. A sudden blast of magic erupted from the palm of one hand, sending a pulse of water crashing into the tentacle. It reacted instantly, curling about her, then coiling up in a steely grip. Suction cups stuck to her body, and the tentacle began to squeeze the life out of her. Almost instinctively, the girl closed her eyes, wanting desperately for the tentacles to let go. Water went to work, prying the tentacle off her, ripping it to shreds. A tattered stump retreated back into the darkness, only to be rejoined a moment later by nine others, each as massive as the first one, two of them tipped in giant, oar-like paddles. They converged on the girl in a fury, attacking what they perceived to be a threat, ramming into her from all possible directions. The girl cushioned the first few blows, but one paddle wrapped around her head, suction cups clinging to her ear, to her face. She tried to resist, but was completely enclosed before she could so much as twitch. Then, the tentacles began crushing her from all sides, compacting her to the breaking point. Reaching out with the last strands of magic she had, she tried to find water…and found it inside the tentacles.

There! Grasping hold of anything that offered hope, even the ghost of hope, she reached out with her mind into the tentacles themselves, finding the water willing and ready. With a burst of magic driven by desperation, the tentacles swelled up, then burst, falling away dead and limp from her body. Looking around, the girl saw a bloated, squidlike body half-emerged from the wreckage of a ship, the stumps of its tentacles flailing. Then, the magic consumed it, and water burst out of its body in a messy explosion. The girl sighed with relief as she witnessed the monster’s destruction, but was suddenly jolted to her senses by a wail of dismay. Turning, she found her grandmother a short distance away, a look of mingled disbelief and despair etched into her face.

“You killed him!!”

“What!?”

“You killed him, the one I was taking you to meet! He represented the life in Eira, the life of the ocean itself! How could you kill him?”

“He was attacking me…that tentacle…”

“That was his way of greeting, the way he always greets people!”

“How was I supposed to know? The giant squid in the lake did that to me, and he almost ate me…”

“Just because one animal does it doesn’t mean that all animals will do it! That’s the kind of human fallacy that makes humans treat each other the way they do, and the reason behind the Empire’s purge of magic! The reason your father died!” The girl’s heart was still thundering in the rush of the moment, her head still swirling with recent events. She couldn’t grasp the enormity of her actions, couldn’t realize the meaning of her grandmother taking her out into the deep ocean to visit a giant squid. “You…you’re just like all other humans: selfish, greedy, ignorant, impulsive…oh…” The grandmother stopped in the middle of her rant, arrested by the look on her granddaughter’s face. “What am I going to do with you…?”

They floated there for a moment, with nothing but the sounds of the creature’s remains as it landed among the shipwrecks, water churning. A few fish darted past them, alerted by the smell to the fresh meal awaiting them. In under a minute, the shipwrecks were a hive of activity as fish and other creatures swarmed in.

“In death, there is life…” The girl wanted to smile at the irony, but the sense of guilt, and her grandmother’s words, still weighed heavily upon her mind.

“Memorized that part of the lesson already, have you? The temporary life gained here doesn’t justify the death of the creature you have just caused.”

“But all life is equal, isn’t it?”

“Just like the life of your father is equal to the lives of the maggots that feasted on his body?”

“No, I didn’t mean that…”

“Of course you didn’t. And that is why you have so much to learn. The creature you killed lived for thousands of years, and even learned to communicate with others, like us. I was so sure it would have something to teach you…”

Silence. Life feasted on death. The cycle continued.

“Come now. There is much for you to learn, and we only have a year ahead of us to accomplish everything. Follow me.” The two of them swam off, following the tides.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/21/2010 17:50:10)

Weeping of the Sea
by Tajna Vox

Too many steps, too many bricks upon this road I have passed in my tiresome journey to the edge of the world as I know it. I have known hunger some days, thirst others, yet I continue to beat this worn and weary path that thousands have taken before me. In my more lax moments I wonder why any of them did. Then I snap out of the delusion that other people actually matter.

Yes, I chose this.

My journey actually started here, near the sea in a small part of a soulless king's land which my father ruled and loved. I sat by his side when his people came for help and hope, watching him dispense both with steadfast courage and optimism. I watched him gaze into my mother's eyes when he thought no one else saw. But the people saw... I saw... and it made a difference. For if a man can love his wife, his daughter, as my father loved us, then surely that man can lead a people with the same love.

They loved him. And he loved them. He loved them more than any ruler before, or dare I say, ever to come. He walked among them, his pride in his people nearly bursting him at the seams. Sometimes I wondered just how his clothing kept all of him inside when he beamed at his people.

He walked the docks. The tired, creaking, splintering docks. The docks that had seen generation after generation of men and women pull in the heavy-laden nets of a good day's catch. Wood that had been soaked in the blood of the great predators of the sea... those maws of razor sharp teeth that could have taken the largest man in town and sliced him clean through in one bite.

I played on those docks. Silly games that small children play while adults work in the burning sun. They watched over me as if they were my father and mother. Many a times I was rescued at the last moment by a hand as I nearly plunged over the side in my daydreaming walks. But they never admonished me. The fishermen and women said that such dreams of the sea, near the sea, were the dreams that made life grand.

I remember once, my father in his official dress, helping a family pull in a net that was near bursting while one of the king's men looked on in horror. Imagine, touching one of the people that broke their backs for the kingdom. Nay, they broke no back for the king...they broke their backs for my father.

That night, the fisherman's wife cooked a feast for my family and the king's official. Fried, baked, grilled...smoked...ah, smoked fish. That, if anything, was the feast for a king. My father heartily dug in, sampling everything. He drank the ale poured for him, he sung the seafarer songs... And smiled every moment. That family, that fisherman's family stood proud that night. It was as if we had been welcomed home. But the king's man... He sat off to the side, picking at his food. He snubbed the ale and watched my father disdainfully.

Arrogant, pompous fool. He had no idea what he was missing. He had no idea what life was like on the outer reaches of the king's land. This was life, sir. This was how life should be. Not like that stuffed-up palace in the highlands where laughter is lost as soon as the eyes lay on the outer grey walls. Life was not a rigid, choreographed dance that slips through time unannounced. Life was not what your king presumes upon the people.

Life is what my king, my father, lives.

Lived. I hate reminding myself that the word is now representative of the past. Has it been that long? Has lived been in my vocabulary for so many years? Has it been the representative of a life that was cut short by a man's greed and self-preservation for this long? I hate him. My father told me that hatred fuels energy best left to the currents of the sea. That way, it is carried out beyond our reach so that we can live lives of grace.

My grace was stolen in a fit of cowardice and sacrifice.

But my father is not here anymore. His smile is not reflected in the waves that crash upon our shores. His laughter is not heard above the tumultuous pounding of the water on the rocks near the bay. His worn and rough hands no longer pull at nets too heavy to bring in. And his eyes... His eyes will never see the sun rise over the horizon, the light's trail, newly revealed, sparkling towards his bay, his kingdom, his family.

No, they won't.

He stood fast in the end. He paid, out of the king's ransom, for the supplies to fortify the ships and repair the firmament. "To hell with the king and his greed," I heard my mother tell him one night. His silence confirmed that he, too, held that belief. The king had done nothing... Why did he deserve anything from them?

He didn't.

I remember my father taking a ship out to sea to clear his thoughts. We all went with him, the gentle rocking of the waves tempting me to sleep. My father, though, could not sleep. No, he sailed out there to get away long enough to feel the solitude of the world that had given all of us life. He knew what I did not. The sea would never be ours again.

He penned letters out there. Letters that begged the king to help. He implored the king to send reinforcements when darkness pressed inward, threatening our shores and forests. He sent estimates to the king, showing him just how large the force was that threatened our borders. But he, in all his splendor and glory, did not respond.

The most powerful man in the known world could not muster enough energy in one finger to point his commanders in our direction to save us.

No.

I always wondered... Had he seen the shores of milky white sands, would he have cared more? What about the hot springs in the cove west of town, where the ache of a day's hard work is taken from you... Would he have cared? He never laid upon the beach in the evening as the water lapped lazily at the sand. He never hauled in a catch at the end of the day, felt the pride for doing a honest day's work. He never...

And he sacrificed us because of it.

I remember the frenzy of fisher boats, now disguised as warships. But I knew that was not what they were. We all did. But we still reinforced the wood and pitch anyway. It was odd to see our once tranquil docks swarming with townspeople. What should have been a frenzy of joy was a cacophony of panic. You could see it in their faces, hear it in their voices.

My father's voice was the loudest and it was steadfast and strong. He would be the people's strength. He would be their refuge. He would not abandon them to the waves and swords of the oncoming blackness, the consuming darkness that gnawed at the soul. He was not a pampered prince. He was a man... A real man who knew how to rule. The king...is a king by name. My father is a king by love.

The sea was hurting that day. I felt it in my very inner being. The waves crashed as if trying to break everything apart. It blasted the coastal caves, roaring through the passages, lamenting what was to come. I heard it cry that day. Most would have described the sea as angry, but I knew it was grieving. Pray to whatever you consider holy that you never hear the sea weep. It will haunt your soul until you die.

They came in hoards, bearing down on us as if we were a small animal in the way of the marching insects of the forest. Their ships tore through our humble fisher boats. Men, my father's men, fell before the marauders, their swords cleaving skulls and rending limbs. The sea tried to fight for us that day. I know it did, but there is only so much the moon allowed it to do before coaxing the tide out.

Our people fought bravely. The sea called to them, as if sending its strength to the people it loved so dearly. I heard its pain as if it was torn from the men and women who had taken care of the foaming waves and wine dark depths all these years. The gulls joined in its song of grief and I knew in that instant...

I wouldn't see my beloved sea, nor my beloved family, again.

My father stashed me in a secret tunnel just off his and my mother's chambers. He told me to flee, to tell the king. But I stayed. I stayed and watched as the vampire warlord ripped my mother apart, forcing my father to watch. And then, with eyes as brilliant as lush grass, I watched the warlord descend upon my father and snuff out his life while fortifying his own.

I wanted to scream. I now understood the sea's grief, the sea's pain. I understood why it so violently cried for my family and people. It knew exactly what was coming to our shores, more so than we ever imagined. The vampire warlord knew I was there, yet could not find me. And as I trembled in that dark tunnel, his eyes seeking me out, I heard the cries of my people in the streets weakly call to me.

I am so sorry... So very sorry I was not strong enough, my people.

It was then that I ran, when I knew I was not strong enough. I ran through the darkness, taking in every cry, every painful sob that followed me. I will keep you safe, I will hold onto you until you will be avenged. I ran until I could run no more and then, on my eight-year-old knees, crawled until fresh air assaulted my nose.

I collapsed on the outskirts of a small army of the King's fighters in camp. They were right there... Right there! And just a half day's run by my tired, grieving feet was a place of wonder being destroyed for all eternity. Finally able to get their attention, I told them our story. Most listened halfheartedly, others not at all. Only one man spoke, and his words... Such haughty words were not wasted on me.

"We know, child. We are here to make sure no one gets into the king's forest. Though, the vampires don't generally venture this far inland."

Those words were seared into my mind and heart that day. The cries and pain that I carried from my home and city wrapped around the soldier's words and ripped them to shreds. The king had sent men to secure the royal forest, but not to save us. I left in a trance, my innocence finally obliterated. The king was no king.

A real king does not let his people suffer and die while he sits on his backside, his gluttony outweighing his conscience.

I pause, yanked out of my memories as the smell of salt tingles my nose. I run as fast as I can, my now twenty-four-year-old legs much faster and stronger than my six-year-old ones were. I come upon a rise and look down at the once proud bay of Songrereigh. The shells of homes still stand, though the sea has been trying to reclaim them. I don't blame it at all. It's where our hearts lie, why not our bodies and livelihoods?

The sea stills, and I swear it is for me. The glass-smooth surface shines, reflecting the moon's rays. And then, suddenly the water laps at the sands, calling me home.

Yes, my beloved sea. I am home. I am here to make things right. And you, you will fight beside me.

The tumultuous sound of waves pounding on the rocks near the bay echoes up to me as I descend the path. You will have your vengeance, great water, and I will have mine. And together, they will all be vindicated. He will pay one hundred times over for his crimes.

And once again, Songrereigh will be free.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (7/21/2010 17:59:40)

Nopris Isle
By Torn

“You have a lot of explaining to do, pal,” Orvis snarled. Torn grinned and moved the scythe blade away from his throat.

“Bonehead!” Torn yelled, hugging Orvis. Orvis shoved Torn off of him and pointed his scythe at him.

“You traitorous sleaze ball! You killed me! Do you know how painful that is? You’re going to pay for that!” Orvis hefted his scythe above his head.

“Orvis, stop!” Teré yelled. Orvis stiffened and lowered his scythe. He turned his head and stared at Teré in shock.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.” He turned toward Torn.

“What have you been doing?” Torn explained what had accrued after Orvis’ death. Orvis’ red eyes flashed in anger when he learned that Naros tricked Torn into killing him. “RRRRAAAAHHHH!!!! That old geezer is going to pay for this! Torn, Teré, let's go kill him!”

“Orvis! Calm down,” Torn said. Orvis growled but became quiet. “We know that you’re upset, but we need to save Elano; she is going to die at midnight unless we save her.” Teré nodded.

“Why should I help you? You killed me!” Orvis spat.

“Because I have this,” Torn, said raising a blood red crystal. Orvis’ eyes widened.

“You stole my Blood Crystal?!” Orvis asked. Torn nodded. Orvis glared at Torn hatefully, but nodded.

“Alright, so we’re agreed. Now, does anybody have any idea where they have taken her?” Torn said. Orvis rolled his eyes in annoyance and Teré placed a hand on her face.

“Wait, you said that Naros showed you Elano. What did her cell look like exactly?” Teré asked.

“I saw a windowless, stone cell. The cell was dark and smelled of mildew and dead, rotting things. There was a straw mat they probably gave her as a bed. She was chained to the wall.” Teré closed her eyes and nodded.

“That sounds like a cell in Nopris Isle,” Teré said.

“Nopris Isle? Where’s that?” Orvis asked.

“It’s a small island used by the Loreằsions as a prison for their worst prisoners. If Elano is there, it’s a miracle she has lasted this long,” Teré explained. “Do either of you have a map?”

“Why would you need that?” Orvis asked as Torn handed her his map. Teré spread the map out and studied it. She pointed at a vacant spot on the outskirts of the Akroxin kingdom.

“Rekar should be around here, right?” Torn and Orvis nodded. Teré moved her hand to a nearby port village. “If we go to Optran, and steal a ship…” Teré traced a path from Optran, through the Narrow Straights, and past the Loreằsion capital city, Olằsa, toward a small island in the Gulf of Akrox. “Then we should be able to reach Nopris Isle before midnight. But we need to hurry.” Teré folded the map and handed it back to Torn.

“Not trying to sound pessimistic, but how are we supposed to steal a ship, sail through some of the most dangerous waters on the planet, and past the Loreằsion Imperial Armada, like it’s a walk on the beach? And on top of that, we have to infiltrate the most secure prison and save Torn’s sister before they execute her at midnight,” Orvis said as Torn and Teré walked out of the clearing and into the tree line.

“Just another day at the office,” Torn joked. Orvis sighed and followed after the duo.

The trio hiked through the forest. They managed to reach Optran by the afternoon. The buildings in the city were clumped together, most being between two to three stories tall. Spanish moss hung on the many trees, making the place seem even more cramped. Three ships were docked at the city port. The first ship was a large Carrack; it was dull brown and had a large crew on board, moving supplies and goods below deck. The second ship was a Galleon. Her crew was nowhere to be seen, but a man with a blue jacket was standing next to the ship talking to a merchant. A row of cannons could be seen on both sides of the ship. Its hull was dark chestnut brown. The last ship was a small Caravel, probably only large enough to hold eight people, there was no crew to be seen and most of the merchants and sailors ignored it. The sails were raised and the ship looked ready to sail.

“Alright, which one are we taking?” Torn asked, peering over the side of the wall they were hiding behind.

“Probably the small one that is ready to sail,” Orvis said sarcastically.

Torn nodded and led the other two to the Caravel. Torn got on board and searched it for a crew. He found none. He signaled for Orvis and Teré to get on board. Orvis hefted up the anchor as Teré cut the rope tethering them to the dock. With the wind blowing, the ship took off, leaving the port before anybody noticed. Torn was at the helm, steering the ship. Teré was in the crow’s nest, Torn’s map spread out and a compass in hand. Orvis was below deck; taking a nap. With the wind on their side, the ship, which they had named the S.S. Savoir, easily made it to the Narrow Straights by dusk.

When they arrived, the wind suddenly died down The Narrow Straights was a large rock valley. The two walls were as smooth as marble: there wasn’t a single foothold or cut to be seen. There were jagged rocks which were the graveyard for any ship that tried to sail through. The faceless walls prevented any wind from entering the Straight.

“Careful, Torn, I don’t want to end up like those ships,” Teré called.

Torn nodded and steered around a large jagged rock, where a large Galleon had crashed. The hull was a maroon red and the railing a golden yellow. Cannons were hanging out of the windows designed for them. A woman with a look of terror was featured at the mast of the ship. A Jolly Roger flag was hoisted. The ship appeared to be in good condition. The Savoir shook and Torn fell to the floor as Teré grabbed the rims of the crow’s nest to keep from falling out. Torn steadied himself and returned to the wheel.

Teré glared at Torn in anger. “I thought I told you to be careful!”

“I was! We must have hit a reef or something,” Torn said.

“There are no reefs in this place,” Orvis said, walking onto the deck. “I just hope we didn’t hit what I think we did,” he added cryptically.

“And that would be…?”

Orvis remained quiet. They sailed silently at an uneasy peace. An explosion rocked the port side of the ship. Torn swore and turned his head to see that the wrecked Galleon he had spotted earlier was following them, a cannon protruding from the woman’s mouth.

“We’re under attack!” Teré shouted, climbing out of the crow’s nest.

Torn snarled in anger and ordered Teré and Orvis below deck. They grudgingly obeyed as another explosion rocked the ship. Torn gritted his teeth and struggled to keep control of the ship. The S.S. Savoir hit something in the water and got stuck. Torn swore and desperately attempted to move the ship, but it did not move. The Galleon caught up to the ship and Torn could see the ship’s crew: many of them wore ragged pants and were shirtless. Some had wooden legs and eye patches and many held either cutlass or boarding axe. The crew threw grappling hooks onto the Savoir and rode down them. Torn released the wheel and went to the deck.

“Do you… gentlemen, need anything? Possibly some soap?” Torn asked with a stern face.

The only crew member wearing a shirt stepped forward, pointing his cutlass’ blade at Torn’s throat. “Aye, we’re ‘ere for somethin’. Give us all your valuables and whatnots. And what’s this ‘soap’ ye speak of?”

Torn grinned and tried to move the blade away from his throat, but to no avail. The pirate grinned and motioned for the other crew members to search the ship. Torn gnashed his teeth but remained still.

“Sir! He on’t have ‘ny treasure, but he does have ‘ome stowaways,” one of the pirates said dragging a kicking and screaming Teré and a quiet but obviously angry Orvis.

“Let’s take them to the ‘aptain,” the shirt-wearing pirate said, bringing Torn, Teré, and Orvis onto their ship.

The pirates bound Teré and Orvis’ wrists with a rope, and kept Torn at sword point. The captain entered the deck and all chatter stopped completely. The captain had greasy dread-locked black hair and a carelessly trimmed beard. He wore a blood red coat with gold lace and pair of black trousers. He wore leather boots and his left hand was a hand instead of a hook. A blunderbuss was at his waist. The captain stopped in front of Teré.

“Hello there, aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He grinned, his teeth surprisingly white. Teré spat on him and kicked him in his stomach. “You got a little fight in you; I like that in a woman,” the captain snarled.

“Captain, sir, would you like to talk to their leader?” the pirate wearing the shirt asked, managing to get the captain's attention away from Teré.

“Of course, where are my manners?” the captain said mockingly. He stepped in front of Torn and began to observe him. “Hhmm, a decent sword, we might be able to get something from that. Or we can make him and the necromancer a part of the crew in exchange for the lass. What do you say lad? Do you want to be a part of Captain Zaron’s crew on the S.S. Leviathan?”

“Never,” Torn said. The captain seemed saddened by his answer, but before he could say another thing, a giant crab rose out of the water beside the Leviathan. The crab had razor sharp spines on its back. The top of the creature was a blackish green, while the bottom was a sandy yellow. The creature's right claw was large than the left. Its black, glassy eyes showed intelligence. The monster opened its mouth and roared in anger.

“The Carcini! Hoist the anchor! Raise the sails! Get us out of here!” Captain Zaron shouted in terror. The Carcini hissed and lifted the ship into the air, shaking it furiously. In the midst of the chaos caused by the creature, Torn managed to free Teré and Orvis and ran to the railing of the ship.

“How are we going to get out of here?!” Teré screamed. Torn looked over the railing and saw the S.S. Savoir stuck between the spines on the Carcini's back. An idea popped into Torn’s head. He grabbed Teré and Orvis’ arms and when the boat was closer, jumped over the railing and into the boat. The trio landed, with Teré and Orvis complaining about the fall while Torn jumped out of the boat and began to push the boat out of its place. As soon as the vessel began to plummet off of the creature's back, Torn climbed back in and grinned.

“Hold on,” Torn laughed as the ship hit the water. Torn and Orvis raised the sail, while Teré was ill over the side of the boat. Torn looked back at the S.S. Leviathan and saw the creature snap the boat in two. The Carcini roared in triumph and submerged itself into the water. A huge wave from the creature hit the Savoir, launching it forward through the other side of the Narrow Straights. Torn and Orvis looked at each other, before breaking into grins and laughing hysterically.

“You’re bloody insane!” Orvis laughed. Teré raised herself from the railing and walked over to Torn. Teré slapped Torn’s face before kissing him.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Teré said. Torn smiled apologetically and embraced Teré in a hug. Torn broke the hug before they got back to manning the ship. Orvis climbed the crow’s nest and shouted directions as Torn steered the ship, and Teré rested below deck. It was night now, almost midnight. Torn sailed through the open waters and spotted a small island with a large fortress on it.

“Nopris Isle,” Torn whispered. He docked the ship as Teré came on deck. Torn climbed out of the ship, telling Orvis and Teré to stay on board. He clung to the blackened wall avoiding the light from the guard’s lights.

Torn entered the prison, walking past cells full of prisoners who begged gods for forgiveness, moaned in pain, or were dead. He heard men approaching and ducked behind a large crate. The footsteps grew closer and Torn heard the guards' voices.

“…I already told you, they’re not going to execute Prisoner 528X; Emperor Mavas told the Warden that he wants her taken to Olằsa, so she can be taken to the Genetic Research Facility: Carcinigen for some kind of experiments,” the first guard said.

“I’m just saying, it would be much nicer and less expensive just to kill her,” the second guard argued. The first guard chuckled coldly.

“Since when does Emperor Mavas care about kindness? His name, Malach ha Mavas, even means ‘Angel of Death.’” There was a moment of awkward silence as the guards passed by Torn’s hiding spot.

“Where is the prisoner’s cell, anyway?” the second guard asked.

The first guard sighed and explained that it was the first cell on the right side of the corner. Torn snuck out of his hiding spot and bashed the guards' heads together, knocking them out cold. He took the first guard's keys and turned the corner finding the first cell. He opened the cell door and stepped inside. There he found the person he had sacrificed almost everything for, and had endangered his life to find, sleeping on a straw mat.

“Elano,” Torn whispered. He walked to Elano, and gently shook her awake. Elano’s sky blue eyes popped open and she began to scream. Torn placed a hand on Elano’s mouth to silence her. Her eyes widened when she realized who she was looking at. Torn smiled and moved his hand.

“Torn…? What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice hoarse from dehydration.

“Saving you,” Torn whispered back. Torn tried to help Elano stand, but found her too weak and chained to the wall. He drew his sword and cut the chains binding Elano. Torn lifted Elano into his arms and carried her out of her cell and out of the hellhole that was the Nopris Prison. Torn helped Elano into the ship and pulled out of the prison's port. They began to sail towards open waters when an alarm and a bonfire came from Nopris Isle. A second alarm sounded from the port of Olằsa. Torn and the others stared in horror as the largest ship in the Imperial Armada sailed toward them, explosions rocking each side.

“Abandon ship!” Orvis said, diving over the side of the boat. Teré glared at Orvis with hate as Elano looked at Torn in desperation.

“Teré, Elano, you might have a chance. Follow Orvis,” Torn said, surprisingly calm.

“What about you?” Elano asked.

“I’ll catch up. Just trust me,” Torn said.

Teré obeyed, and jumped overboard, pulling Elano with her. Torn sighed contently, glad that his friends managed to escape. He glared at the ship as multiple explosions hit the deck, hull, and helm of the ship. He was flung off the ship and into the freezing water as the ship exploded after the Imperial boat bombarded it with cannonballs. Torn closed his eyes and let his body go limp as he began to sink below the waves.



superjars -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 2:31:51)

Where in the universe...
by Hallie Slidepath and Eukara Vox

Eukara awoke, the grit of sand stinging her face and arms. Apparently, falling face first into a beach created discomforts later on. Sitting up, slowly, for she was very sore, Eukara looked around to study her new surroundings. The sands were nearly blinding, they were so white. She blinked several times, her eyes having trouble focusing over the glare of the beach's beauty. She looked left, then right, and was astounded at how vast the beach seemed. It was as if there was no end to the expanse.

Before her, the water lapped against the sand, which was now interspersed with the blackest of rocks. The water swirled around and through the rocks, constantly shifting and reshifting the sands around them. The contrast was so dramatic that Eukara rose from her spot on the beach and walked towards them, if only to see this mixture of oddities. Stepping carefully, she walked into the waters, the cold liquid tugging at her feet. Once she got far enough out that wading would be difficult, she climbed up onto one of the jutting rocks and examined the waters below.

A short ways out, it seemed the beach dropped off into a deeper, darker water. Tall stalks of a seaweed-type plant swayed in the current, almost hypnotically. As she watched, small schools of fish darted in and out of the underwater forest. The silvery ones reflected the sunlight, tiny blinding flashes in the water. Blue and green fish swam circles around each other as they zipped near the surface. Deeper down, the hazy silhouettes of grey and white fish swam slowly around the base of the seaweed stalks.

* * *

She had spent the past two days wandering the dark forests of the coastline, but it was time to return now; she knew that she couldn't stay away for much longer. Walking the paths only she knew, climbing the cliffs and reaching higher than anyone had done before would usually help her with finding answers, but this time she had none. The main reason that she couldn't find an answer was probably because she couldn't see the problem to begin with. However, the parents of the young man had asked for her guidance, and she felt she could do nothing but at least try to help.

Hallie stared down at her feet; her boots were covered with mud and torn by the unfriendly vines of the forest. She decided to climb down the cliffs to the shore and walk the last miles to the town from there. No matter how much she disliked sand, the thought of trading the struggle through the thorn-covered branches and thick shrubberies for an easy walk on the beach lightened her mood significantly. The wind swept through the dark-green crowns above her, making the leaves rustle in the wind. Listening to the sounds the breeze carried with it, she heard the sound of waves come crashing down on the shore, and that was all she needed. Quickly, she changed her direction and started walking towards the sound of the sea, longing to see its ever-changing depths again.

It did not take long for her to reach the point where the forest abruptly came to a halt, allowing the cliffs to take its place. These majestically reached up from the sea down below, up towards the sky and the stars. The cliffs were bright where they faced the dark waves below, and the stone, still being young, was sharp and porous beneath the hardened blackberry-vines that fell towards the wild waters below. Hallie reached down, looking closely at the stone, and smiled as she noticed the small, purple orchids that peeked through the cracks of the stone; blooming with bright colours no matter how much the storms have raged by.

Careful not to step on the flowers, she made sure that she had a good grip with her hands before starting to climb down the steep walls. She knew that she'd not only have to climb down, but also sideways for several meters before reaching the beach, but having done this more times than she could possibly remember, it was no challenge to her.

Once she reached the familiar, and disliked, feeling of sand beneath her feet, she took a deep breath before welcoming the view of the vast beach. She noticed at once that something was different, though. Far ahead, barely more than a shadow, sitting on a rock a few feet away from the shore, was another human. Hallie sighed to calm herself; it wouldn't be impossible for other humans to be out here as quite a few lived on the island. However, at this time of the year, and this far away from the village, it was definitely a rarity. She took a few steps in the direction of the person, knowing that whether she wanted to or not, would have to walk past them in order to get back to town. After she had walked for a minute or so at a steady pace, she paused again; this was definitely a stranger. She knew the townspeople and the other inhabitants of the island well enough to recognize most of them by now, but this person had nothing familiar about them.

She tried to think through her options quickly: she could go back and climb the cliffs again, taking the paths of the forest back to town. It was likely that the person would spot her though and in case it was in need of help, it would feel wrong to walk the other way.

Hesitantly, she started walking in the direction of the stranger again, remembering her manners and duties; she hoped that whoever this was, they wouldn't be too rude or hostile.

* * *

Eukara watched the jellyfish float lazily across the surface. The whole time she sat there, it was quiet. Her thoughts undisturbed, she tried to figure out why it was she landed here in the first place... and just where was "here." She hadn't activated the portal... so just how did she get on a white sands beach in the middle of nowhere? All she remembered was reading about Terran seas and wanting to be there.

No... She hadn't wanted to be there, she had wished it! She wished it... but this kind of thing had never happened before. So, why did it happen now? As she turned this over in her mind, the sound of someone approaching, though subtle, tickled her ears. She sat very still, not wanting to pose as anything but an innocent, lost bystander. She slowly turned around, keeping her balance on the rock. Last thing she needed was to fall off of it and into the water below.

She focused on the young woman walking towards her. She was quite beautiful, and obviously a native here. She walked with a certain grace, an assuredness that Eukara recognised immediately. This woman wasn't just some lady on the island, she was someone special here. Calmly, Eukara raised her hand and waved, hoping this was a sign of friendliness wherever she was.

* * *

Hallie saw the stranger turning towards her; as the act was slow and gentle, the movement didn't scare her. The person out on the rock was a woman, and as Hallie looked at her, she felt both confused and relieved. The woman didn't seem hurt, nor were her clothes very wet, so a shipwreck seemed unlikely. The woman's clothes however, were covered in sand, as if she'd slept on the ground or taken a fall recently. Her eyes were intense, but not without confusion in them. The more she looked at the woman, the more it was obvious to Hallie that she was not from anywhere near the islands. She did her best to hide away her own shyness, and after years of training it was quite easy by now. She took a few more steps, not letting her eyes off the stranger, raised her hand and waved back.

"Well met," Hallie said, noticing her voice sounding quite hoarse after two days of complete silence. She coughed once and then smiled again. "My name is Hallie Slidepath. I can't help but notice that you don't seem to be from around here... and I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you hurt?"

Eukara smiled and laughed quietly. "You are very correct, Hallie, I am not from around here... I am not even sure where 'here' is." She turned around completely, so that she was facing Hallie. She looked down and dusted herself off more. "I am not hurt, though I guess confused is more appropriate. I am Eukara Vox. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Hallie sighed a little; as she was now convinced the stranger was not an enemy of any kind, she felt a little more relaxed. Not that it was very likely to meet someone who would wish to harm her, but with strangers, you could never be certain. She looked at Eukara, really seeing her now for the first time. She was quite beautiful, and quite perplexing as Hallie has never seen someone on these islands like her before; her strawberry-blonde hair was waving in the wind, and her green eyes were curiously studying both the surroundings and Hallie. She was wearing clothes of a kind Hallie has never seen before; her shirt was dark green with a large dragonfly across the chest, the creature sparkling in silver. Around the large dragonfly several others, smaller, were spread out on the shirt. The pattern of dragonflies continued down on the pants; being in a dark brown color, the winged creatures contrasted even more with this background. It took almost all her willpower when she noticed it; when looking at them for enough time, it looked as if the dragonflies were constantly moving, slowly, on the fabric, which made her want to do nothing but shy away.

Eukara, however, seemed to be trustworthy, and Hallie stayed where she was, deciding that this was a person she could trust.

"This is the Island of Sannleikur," Hallie said, making a gesture with her left arm towards the vast beach stretching out on both sides of them, and the cliffs and forest behind. "It's part of a group of seven islands; the group is called Stiernpasset. We're quite far up north, and this time of the year, it's very rare to find strangers here... especially far out of town. The few we have here at the moment are all staying at the inn. I hope you don't think it's rude of me to ask, but how did you get here, if you're not even aware of where you are?"

She felt herself blushing a little when asking the question, as it somehow seemed like a personal question. It had to be asked nonetheless, she knew that, so she tried to ignore the feeling of her face getting a little warmer.

* * *

Sighing quite audibly, Eukara hopped off the rock and walked towards Hallie.

As she got a better look at the young woman, she saw that her dark beauty was a strange contrast to the beach. Dark hair, almost unruly, blew in the wind, the colors shifting. That intrigued Eukara. Her dark eyes, yet pale skin were a perfect contrast. The clothing style reminded her of another time period on a planet not too far from the one she was born to. It was a very fitting lineup. Thick leggings, white shirt with a dark red jacket... and her boots. Eukara wasn't a shoe person, per se, but she found those boots quite attractive.

"Well, as to how I got here to... Sannleikur; well, that is a funny story, perhaps?" Her smile was unsure, as if she herself was still trying to figure things out. "I wished to be in a picture, quite absentmindedly, and I woke up face-first on your lovely white beach."

Hallie could do nothing but stare now; she once again glanced at the moving dragonflies on the fabric of Eukara's clothes and then back at her face. "That sounds like..." she cleared her throat once before being able to continue, "magic?" The last word was faint, as a statement of both caution and disbelief.

"Well, my magic hasn't been the strongest in my group, but recent events have made it a bit stronger. I have never, though, been able to manipulate reality to do this." Her eyes betrayed nothing but consternation, as if what she spoke of would be frustrating to anyone.

Hallie cleared her throat once again, and then nodded once, as if agreeing to something quite unknown to the world outside of her thoughts. "I see," she said slowly, glancing across the beach. "Well, I can't remain here; even though I wish they could do without me, they'll be missing me at the town by now. I'd hate leaving you out here; if you don't have any valid currency with you, I could gladly talk to the inn-keeper on your behalf. I'm quite sure he wouldn't refuse. He's a kind old man, and he still believes in the old ways; he wouldn't refuse anything if I asked him."

She sighed quietly and could feel the helpless smile play on her lips as she blinked towards the wind before continuing. "Once you have a room, I'd be delighted to invite you for dinner. I think there might be many stories for us to tell each other. Besides, even if there isn't, I can assure you that my cooking skills are bad enough for us to make conversation about; my guests usually think it's quite entertaining trying to figure out what the burned, unidentifiable items at the bottom of the soup bowl are."

Eukara nodded, still smiling. "That sounds wonderful. I have no idea how long I will be here. In my experience, when I appear somewhere... not expected, there is a reason for it. So, if history continues, this should be a wonderful time here." Respectfully, she moved to step beside Hallie. "Lead on!"

Hallie nodded once again, and the smile didn't leave her lips entirely as she started walking. "The walk to town usually takes three hours or so, but I suspect that we have a storm, or at least rain coming towards us. The wind keeps getting stronger, and the dark clouds in the horizon doesn't seem entirely friendly to me. I have equipment to handle it, but I suspect that you don't, so I suggest that we hurry a little."

Looking at the sky, Eukara realised that Hallie spoke the truth. "I must have been really sidetracked watching the ocean to not notice that! I am all for moving fast. I was an athlete once upon a time, so this won't be a bother. I just may not be dressed for it, but I will deal with that later." Watching Hallie for any indication on how fast to move, Eukara attempted to stay next to her.

"Good, then let's go." After speaking the words, Hallie quickly picked up her usual pace, glancing at Eukara now and then to make sure that she was able to keep up and after each glance, she wondered why she was even bothering, as it was pretty obvious that keeping up wasn't going to be a problem for her.

* * *

Wandering the beach and wandering the forest are two very different things. At the beach, you'll always have the sea by your side, the waves rolling in or crashing down against the shore, the sounds of the sea never leaving, and the wind more or less constantly coming at you from one side or the other. In the forest, there will be new things at all sides, all the time. Most people consider the forest more interesting than the sea... Hallie found herself almost being annoyed at her own thoughts. Admittedly, the beach could, to an untrained eye, seem vast, dull and quite empty. Well, it was quite vast, but it was just as alive as the forest, maybe even more, and it was just as beautiful. She sighed peacefully when looking at the banks of sand stretching out ahead of them; once attached to the sea, you can never, ever leave it.

Suddenly the familiar shape appeared in the horizon, nothing more than a silhouette; the sea, already raging in the first caress of the storm, was throwing itself against the scrawny shape. The dock has been here, at the outskirts of the town for centuries; all the townspeople knew that once you've spotted it, you're not far from home. As they got closer to the dock, Hallie noticed what she had feared might be there: he's still nothing but a faint shadow, but even from this distance she could tell who he was. Standing with water up to his waist, he could easily be mistaken for one of the rocks.

For a second, she stopped short in her tracks and stared at the young man ahead of them. She then shook her head and couldn't help but to whisper a curse under her breath, before once again picking up the steady pace. "We're very close to town now; this dock is just outside of it. It seems like we're very likely to be indoors before the storm breaks loose." She turned a little towards Eukara while speaking, hoping to distract her a little from her behavior.

Eukara blinked, but Hallie's question turned her thoughts. "Indoors will be just fine, Hallie, really. Your island has a lot of charm. The forests are beautiful, though the sea holds my attention the most. I saw some crazy looking fish in there... or maybe that was just water distortion. Anyway, we can have dinner while the rain comes down."

She looked at the dock as they passed it, smiling at its simple beauty. One could go fishing there and feel at peace. She turned her attention back to Hallie as they traveled towards town. Something told her that this will be one intriguing day.

* * *

"The grey one, to the left here, that's my house."

Hallie pulled her coat tighter around her as they walked through the town; most streets had been emptied by now, the citizens preparing for the storm ahead. Once at the door of the inn, both laughter and singing were possible to hear from inside, as well as the rank smell of day-old ale. Hallie took a few steps forward, opening the doors, and strode into the chaotic jolliness inside, walking straight to the counter. She stood silent there for a short while, not to take notice of her surroundings but to make sure Eukara was by her side before she turned to face the counter, which currently was empty.

"Mr Rodr?" she called, glancing at the steep stairs to the left of the counter. After almost a minute of waiting, she could hear the sound of steps rushing down the stairs.

"Smae, you don't have to rush like that for me," she added when the old man reached the counter, as she felt a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Anything for you, Princess!" Smae's answer was very formal, though there was a twinkle in his eyes, and on his lips, a smile was not far away.

Eukara blinked, then looked at Hallie. Princess... royalty?!

"How many times do I have to..." Hallie stopped short in the middle of her sentence, glancing at Eukara, then cleared her throat before continuing. "I have a guest today, Mr Rodr; she's from far away, and I would very much appreciate if you could arrange a room for her."

"But of course." It barely took a second for him to disappear down to the floor, searching the bottom drawers for - judging from the sound of it - keys. "I have a lovely room available. It's quite small, but it has a very nice view of the sea; if you're from far away, I'm sure you will appreciate it."

He reached across the counter, holding out the key toward Eukara. He then turned to Hallie, still smiling.

"Don't worry about payment, Princess; anything for you, that's the code." His smile seemed almost victorious as Hallie sighed in a tired manner.

"I am most thankful, Mr Rodr," she said though, nodding approvingly towards him, before glancing at Eukara.

Bowing slightly to Rodr, Eukara smiled. "My thanks for your consideration. The room sounds wonderful." Straightening up, she looked at Hallie.

"In other circumstances I'd encourage taking a walk to see the town, but due to the current weather I doubt that's the best thing to do right now. I have a few errands to run, and I think they wouldn't be of much interest to you; however, I'll be cooking dinner as soon as I'm done... I'd say dinner would be ready in about three hours. Do you think that you can find your way to my house by yourself?"

"Oh, yes, I am sure I can. In my profession, details are extremely important. Paying attention to everything is extremely essential." Eukara nodded, encouragingly.

Hallie nodded once again. "Good, then I'll be expecting you", she raised her hand to wave, and then started turning towards the door. "Well met Eukara, I'll see you soon."

With those words she turned fully, and disappeared out through the door and into the rain.

"Hmmm, well, I guess I better get crackin' on why I am here." Eukara took a table near the corner and ordered a fruit drink before settling in for an hour of observation. Then, rain or not, she would have a look around.



superjars -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 2:33:21)

The Pool of Dreams
by Alexander Shiveran

He had heard many things concerning the Pool of Dreams, high up in the Mountains of Skart beyond the river Lethe. Lethe, whose winding course rolled slow and tired through the green vales of Hobern and past the quiet city of Nurn near the sea; it was as if the river was exhausted from all the memories it carried, for legend held that those who bathed in the waters of the river would emerge different than when they entered, and the tiny naiads who lived within the waters would steal into the minds of bathers and pilfer their memories for new sights and sounds such as the river had never before seen. The people of Nurn never washed within the river, but from time to time drew water from it, and the old priest at the Temple of Senna would peer into the water and then tell tales of the memories he saw within it.

So the seeker set out, tracing the windings of the slow-flowing Lethe, following them back against their current as he walked, passing through the forests of Kathen. And when he was tired, and the sun was setting, he unrolled his pack and spread his bed beneath a great elm, whose boughs sighed softly in the wind. That night he saw again, as he had many nights before, the Pool of Dreams: a great silver pond, stiller than any other water should be. He saw himself standing before the waters, a silent reflection of himself cast back perfectly by the full moon overhead. The dream-seeker knelt, and cupped the water of the Pool of Dreams between his hands, and raised it to his lips to drink.

Each night, as every night before when he had the dream, he awoke before he could sip the cool waters. The seeker had been told that to drink from the Pool of Dreams would show the drinker what the true desire of his dreams was, that the magical waters would show the way to the desire of the drinker’s heart. Birds flitted from tree to tree overhead, and the seeker smiled as he rose, gathering his belongings and once more treading the riverbanks, tracing back towards the source high in the Skart Mountains.

He followed the river Lethe as it wandered through the vale of Hobern. Farmers worked in green fields as the seeker walked by silently, nodding to the workers as he passed them. By noon he had reached the city of Nurn, pacing through quiet, cobbled streets in search of the Temple of Senna, and the old priest there. The seeker found the priest amongst the blossoming trees of the temple’s courtyard, and sat silently next to the man, peering out with him over the vale towards the river.

Quietly the holy man greeted the seeker and asked him his purpose. The seeker merely pointed towards the distant mountains, telling the priest of the Pool of Dreams. Following the gesture of the seeker, the old man looked off towards the mountains as well and shook his head. He told the seeker that none could reach the fabled Pool of Dreams, for to do so, one had to scale the rocky sides of the Skart Mountains: cold, flinty peaks that were home to terrible, ravenous ghouls. Even then, should he succeed, he would only come to a worse fate, for through the passes of the Skart Mountains was nothing but an empty wasteland. Rumor said that the desert plateau beyond the passes was the result of the fell magic of an elder sphynx named Darkul, and none had ever returned from seeking the Pool of Dreams before.

The seeker merely smiled, shaking his head. He would find the Pool of Dreams and drink from its cool waters. Mountains could be scaled, ghouls avoided, desert plateaus endured, and sphynxes defeated. If none before had returned from the Pool of Dreams, then they had lacked the will or skill to make it there, or, having found the mythical Pool, and drank of it, and left by another way. After all, the Pool led the drinker to the desire of their dreams; perhaps it simply led them on a path away from Nurn.

He left the marbled pillars and granite walkways of the Temple, setting out for the distant mountains rearing their peaked heads into the clouds. Day passed into night as the seeker traveled onward and he rested again beneath the boughs of a great spreading elm near the banks of the Lethe, whose quiet murmur lulled him into dreams. As always, the crystal Pool was there before him, but this time there was something different, as though a shadow was cast over the clear waters, some dimly seen shape that was impossible to recognize.

Troubled, the seeker woke before dawn and set off again, unsure of the meaning of this change in his dream. By noon he had reached the foothills of the mountains and wound his way up switchbacking trails towards the high pass above, where one could look out and see the whole vale of Hobern and the city of Nurn with the silver line of the River Lethe winding sinuously towards the distant sea.

It was when night fell that the seeker first realized that his course was being tracked. Furtive, stealthy steps pattered after him, another set hushed as well along a parallel course to his own. He stopped and looked about him, resting one hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. The steps ceased moments after he stopped, and he waited in silence for a moment until he heard again the approaching pair, who moved boldly now, knowing they had been discovered.

From the shadowy night emerged two ghouls, strange rubbery creatures not good to behold. Their slick grey skin was unwholesome to see, and the dog-headed bipeds had a strange air of pseudo-humanity to them, just enough to cause one to wonder at their origin, and be disgusted at the possible explanations. The seeker knew, but he repressed the shudder of revulsion that knowledge carried with it, for it would be no good for the ghouls to think him scared or weak and thus easy prey. The ghouls hissed and gibbered to each other in their strange language, eyeing the seeker hungrily as they drew closer; their clawed hands flexing eagerly for the feast to come.

Slowly the seeker drew forth his blade, the steel glittering in the soft moonlight as he faced the approaching creatures. One hesitated, but the other, having never before seen such a thing, being a young ghoul, lunged forward, intent on rending the seeker to pieces. Faster than lighting the seeker struck, his blade humming through the air as it separated first arm, next head from the foolish ghoul’s body; he then leveled the blade, slick with the blackish ichors of the dead ghoul, at the other. The remaining ghoul fell to its knees meeping frantically before begging in broken sentences of the common tongue that it be spared.

The seeker cleaned his sword and returned it to its scabbard, having had enough bloodshed for the night, and thought that perhaps this ghoul could aid him in his quest. And in exchange for its life, the ghoul gladly glibbered its promise that the seeker would be conducted safely through the mountain pass, unhindered by the ghouls, and delivered to the desert plateau beyond. Yet, past that point, no ghoul would venture, for the great sphynx Darkul was an old creature, and it was whispered among the ghouls that in her old age Darkul had grown fell and angry, and at times no longer respected the old ways as she should. The ghoul explained brokenly that Darkul forbade all travelers from her lands, and that those who dared try to pass were devoured by the sphynx or her offspring.

Still, the seeker would not be dissuaded from his course, for he was wise, and knew that Darkul, like all sphynxes, much accept the challenge of a riddle, and if he could defeat the sphynx, she must let him have a boon of hers in accordance with the old ways. Thus, he would be able to pass through her lands unharmed. Though doubtful, the ghoul agreed that this was the best course of action, but then, how else could it respond, when it saw in the seeker’s eyes the quiet determination to carry on, and knowing what it did of how terrible a foe the man could be?

Onward the ghoul led the seeker, taking him by secret ways known only to the ghouls, so that with much scrabbling and climbing, the pair reached the end of the pass far sooner than the seeker would have had he been traveling alone and without his ghoulish guide. Still, once they reached the end of the pass, where the mountains gave access to the plateau beyond, his guide would go no farther, and no inducement from the seeker could stir it one step more. He continued on alone then and was not too sad to be free of his sickly guide, knowing as he did what ghouls are and what they do and, more disturbingly, what they once were.

He ascended into the windswept desert of the plateau beyond the mountains of Skart, wrapping about his face and neck a long scarf from his pack to protect his eyes from the blowing grit. About him the strange, empty landscape spread, dull and monotonous as he trudged through it, seemingly without life. Yet the seeker persevered, marching boldly into the odd, unchanging twilight of that desert plateau, soon swallowed up by the alien landscape that undulated unchangingly for as far as he could see. The desert was neither hot nor cold, but caught somewhere in between, just as time seemed caught between the end of night and dawn, for the light there never increased nor decreased, and the ceaseless wind blew ever on, obscuring the seeker’s tracks moments after they were made.

Onward, unguided by visible landmarks, the seeker trudged, and slowly his supplies dwindled until all that remained was but a skin of water and a small piece of bread. He wondered if he should ever find his way through the desert land, for surely he was lost now, with no landmark to navigate by and no friendly glimpse of sun or moon or stars to guide him. And then the seeker stopped, for there before him, huddled in the sand, was a small forlorn shape.

The seeker knelt and reached out gently with one hand, cleaning the sand from atop the curled figure to find a small black cat, exhausted and lost, just as he. Carefully, the seeker opened his waterskin and, with a gentle hand, used the water to clean the sand from the cat’s nostrils, ears, and eyes, before pouring some slowly into its mouth. The tiny cat opened her golden eyes slowly and meowed a soft thanks to the seeker, rubbing her head against his hand as he slowly gave her more water to drink and let her eat the last of his food.

He spoke with her, knowing the language of cats, for he had spent many years in his travels and found that cats made good companions and better informants. She told him that she had been sent to speak with the great sphynx elder Darkul, for rumor had reached her pride of Darkul’s deeds, and being akin to the sphynxes, the cats were troubled by what they had heard. The seeker told her of his quest, and the cat told him that if he sought the Pool of Dreams, he would have to face Darkul, for she had found the elder sphynx’s lair, but the creature had set her dark minions on the messenger and drove her out into the desert to die before she could see the sphynx. The seeker and feline resolved to aid one another then; the messenger would guide the seeker to the creature’s lair, and the seeker would protect the cat so that she could speak with Darkul.

Resolved, the pair continued onward and, with the directions of the messenger, soon found themselves outside the cavern lair of the elder sphynx. Perhaps by luck, the minions of Darkul were nowhere to be seen, and seeker and messenger entered the sphynx’s lair, the cat pacing slowly through the darkness and whispering soft directions to the seeker, who held aloft a burning torch as they sought the sphynx.

Darkul waited in her chamber, riches and gold piled around her in magnificent heaps, resting in stately silence such as few creatures can attain. Her great dark eyes locked with the seeker’s, and he halted, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. He spoke, telling her his quest and asking that he might have leave to pass through her lair to the Pool of Dreams beyond. Yet Darkul was an old sphynx, and in her age she was cunning, and in her cunning she had grown evil, coveting the power of the Pool of Dreams for her own. She leapt to her feet and roared, intent on devouring the seeker before she would consent to let another come nigh the magical Pool of Dreams.

The seeker called out the words of the challenge, counting on the old ways to protect him, for a sphynx must answer a challenge of wits, and no sphynx he had ever encountered could resist the lure of a riddle match. But Darkul was too far gone, corrupt with wealth and the lust for power greater than herself, and she came on in ravenous rage, until the small black cat stepped into the torchlight and yowled a sharp command.

Despite her greater size, the great sphynx froze in place, her eyes wide in terror, for cats are of a species older by far than sphynxes, and cats have long memories and know many hidden things that the sphynxes have forgotten. This was the reason that Darkul had sent her minions to drive off the messenger of the cats, and why even now they were still out in the desert searching for the little feline, for Darkul feared the wisdom of the cats and knew that all her schemes were undone, for she could not disobey the little messenger nor the words of power that the small cat spoke. The seeker watched in wonder as the black cat stalked forward, uttering words of power in the first language, a tongue that none but the wisest of creatures remembered, and Darkul cringed at the pronouncements of the messenger, unable to understand them, and yet, at the same time feeling the meaning of the rebuke reverberating through her entire being.

Subdued, the once proud sphynx fled before the messenger of the cats, seeking shelter within her deepest chambers where she trembled in fear at what had been spoken. The seeker stroked the lithe black cat with a smile and a nod of thanks and then walked forward, intent on leaving behind the lair of Darkul, and entering into the grotto of the Pool of Dreams beyond. The messenger purred in response, twining herself betwixt the legs of the man and saying she would go with him, for she herself desired to see the fabled Pool of Dreams. And so the pair left behind the dark caves of the elder sphynx and emerged at last into the silent, shaded grotto.

There they found the Pool of Dreams, cool and still beneath the stars overhead, casting back perfect silent reflections in the light of the full moon above. Kneeling at last before the objective for which he had so long quested, the seeker cupped his hands, and raised from the Pool a handful of cool water, watching ripples spread from where he had broken the surface of the water. He smiled bringing the liquid to his lips, and drinking the cool, sweet water, watching as the messenger of the cats did so as well. Both sat, closing their eyes as they felt the magic of the Pool of Dreams course through them, and when they opened them, their eyes met, and both smiled.

The seeker stood, then stooped down and gathered the small black cat into his arms, the messenger purring softly as the man carried her, walking back through the dark lair of the elder sphynx Darkul, and then towards the slowly setting moon, which glowed in the west like a beacon to guide their way.



superjars -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 2:34:05)

Requiem at sea
by balubamboto

The never-ending sound of the waves hitting the shoreline, the powerful, almost deafening voice of the sea when a storm is at full force, the relaxing noises of the water when all is calm and the only things present are gentle gusts of wind stroking the surface. All these were known, experienced, and loved by her. As the daughter of a boat captain, the ocean was like a second home to her after spending more time in its presence than anywhere else.

Perhaps that would be the reason she did what she did...

I believe Sarah was three-years-old when her father took her for the first time to the beach. "Never too young to get acquainted with the sea!" the captain always said. She was so young, but in no time flat learned to swim! They both had so much fun when they spent hours and hours basking in the sun, letting the waves hit their bare feet. By the age of six, that small child could name almost all the creatures tied with the ocean, from small crustaceans to the fish and the birds. By the time she was eleven she could swim so fast, faster than kids much older than her. It was such a joy to watch. You could tell there was a special bond between Sarah and the sea, a bond so great that sometimes, when one was angry or calm, so was the other.

Maybe that was the reason she did what she did...

As time passed, that little girl grew up and became a lifeguard. What better way to be near her friend and to guide others on how to develop a special relationship with the ocean, than this job? I remember one time when cries for help were heard a long ways from the shore: a boy had ventured out too far. Overwhelmed by the power of the waves and the blue vastness all around him, he had almost drowned. Luckily, Sarah was on duty and, I swear, I don't know how she got to the lad so fast. She pierced the waves with such grace and speed that it was like the sea felt her and lent her aid.

But why Sarah, why did you do what you did???

The job as a lifeguard was great and suited her, but as soon as it was possible, the once scrawny little girl was on her way to fulfill her true dream: becoming a marine biologist. Knowing so much about all the creatures that shared that life-bond with the ocean, Sarah wanted to play a more active and important part in all. And after years of studying, she made her dream come true. The captain was a bit disappointed with her career choice, for he had dreamed of seeing his daughter a boat captain like himself.

But when he saw her love and with how much dedication she worked for the benefit of all aquatic life, he was bursting with pride and happiness!

As time passed, however, all things sadly took a turn for the worse. Poisons started affecting and destroying everything, and at an alarming rate. Everything was hit by it: the plants, the birds, the fish, the animals, everything. And Sarah...how I watched her fight this "plague," day after day, year after year, becoming so exhausted in the process.

Everything got messed up: life, the vital bonds between all creatures, the ocean. Then came the time for the captain to leave. His death was such a great blow to his little girl, who now only had one thing left: the sea. After this loss, Sarah continued to fight the battle against everything and everyone who was hurting her friend and all the aquatic life, but soon she couldn't do it anymore. There was only one thing left...

I have never seen and felt such sorrow like that day when she did what she did!

I watched her get into the small boat with nothing except two oars and I did all I could to stop her. I blew my winds towards the shore, but her determination was too great. The sea, perhaps, also tried to stop her with so many heavy tears dropping from the clouds and wave after wave hitting the small boat. But Sarah had just enough strength to row and row until she was surrounded by nothing but water. I could see and feel her determination, so I ceased the heavy winds. The sea also became calm like it never had been before. And then, Sarah rested. She wanted quiet and peace, and it was so. Only a little melody played, a small gust of wind stroking the water surface. A requiem.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 15:27:58)

The Sea's Whisper
By Eukara Vox

The moon's gentle face is turned to the world below. Savren must be watching over the night again. Makes one wonder if Thracia is on the prowl since Savren is watching. That does not bode well, I am afraid. It means something bad will happen tonight. If the goddess of destruction is walking the world, then someone will end up crying by the daystar's ascension.

I come here every year. I come, hoping to hear the sea talk to me one more time. But its sorrow runs too deep and I am always left hurting. I miss the silence of the depths, just as I miss the cry of the waves and the song of the lapping water upon the sands. I miss the songs of the evening when the fishermen are returning to shore. Most of all, I miss my father's voice as he sings them back home.

Life never returned to Songrereigh once the Vampire Warlord laid waste to it. He took what he wanted, ate his fill and then left it, broken and dying. It was a loud message to the man who crowned himself king up north. The Warlord told him that day his time was coming to an end. That one day, he was next. Oddly, the king still hasn't believed that message even though the entire southern coastal border is dead because of that vile man's bloodthirst.

I remember the sea turning red with the blood of the people my father loved. They never stood a chance. The small garrisons my father trained could have fended off most creatures, even the Dretkna. But the Warlord's...

The weeks leading up to the attack, my father drew me aside and told me the truth. Everything. Not one thing did he leave out, and that was hard for a twelve-year-old girl to take in. In that moment, I was no longer a child, no longer innocent. I was forced to grow up right then and there. And I saw his face as he realised it. He was broken. He was broken because my childhood was about to be stolen and there was nothing he could do about it.

I don't hate him for it. How can I? He was nothing but a shining example of how to lead a kingdom, a city-state or a section of the land in need of guidance. I had studied under him long into the night, learning how to govern a people, how to dispense justice without malice or anger, how to love even those who refused to earn that love.

The more I learned, the more I loved my father.

Every night, after he and Mother put Tajna to bed, he would take me down to the shore. There was a small cove, set off from the main part of the bay where the sands were crystalline. We would walk together, sometimes in silence, sometimes in deep discussion. He feared nothing, hid nothing from me. He wanted to teach me, to prove that only an open mind and heart can rule a people.

After we spoke of business, my father would walk me to the water's edge and tell me to go out there, into the black water. As a child of a sea town, you are told to never, ever go out into the sea at night. But I trusted my father and obediently went. Every night, he would tell me to walk further, eventually telling me to swim further. And then, in a matter of moments, he would find me and bring me back to the shore.

He was teaching me. He was always teaching me. And in those nights, he was teaching me that no matter how far I stray, or no matter how deep the darkness around me, he will always be there to bring me home. And that one day, I would have to be in his place, bringing others back home.

Home... There is no rescue now.

I can still hear their war cry. I can still hear the horns of darkness that called into the night. I often wake up shivering, thinking that they are just outside my door. The baying of their hellhounds rattles my bones, haunting my dreams. I can still see them pour through our gates like the scarabs of the south running over the corpse of an animal long dead. Their blades flashed in the light of Savren's light. Did Savren weep that night? Did he feel the pain of loss as his most devoted followers were slaughtered like food-beasts? Did he watch the innocence of the Sea People ruined by the blood of the savages?

From that night forward, Savren's face did not turn to look down upon Songrereigh. I have come every year and each time, he was looking away. Maybe that is why now, for the first time, his face has finally turned to look at our town. I felt it, every time I traveled upon the sea. It was as if the sea was telling me it was time. As if this night, Savren will be able to look at his town without remorse.

I walk the streets, the buildings decayed, rotted. The sea had tried desperately to claim everything, drag it all into the depths, hoping that by hugging the trappings of our lives, it would be able to have peace. But, the sea was not successful.

As I stand in the city's center, I can see the window that I sat in. It was there that my childhood was destroyed. My nurse tried to pry me from the window, but that year I had grown stronger than she. I sat there, steadfast, eyes wide as each member of the Warlord's army cut down my people. I watched them hunt the women for sport, torture the children and cut down the men.

I watched...as they fed upon my people, discarding their bodies as rags into the street. You could see the madness in their eyes, even from up there. Their screams permeated the air and battle cries rattled the windows. And the souls of my people whispered goodbye.

Have you ever felt the soul of someone pass you by, touch your skin, whisper your name? I have. Every one of those townspeople... Each one passed by me, caressing my face, trying to turn my eyes from the destruction below. I would do them an injustice if I turned away a coward.

No, I would not cheapen their deaths by hiding my eyes.

It was when I had felt the touch of the last fisherman's soul that I saw them. I saw my parents and Tajna chased into our home. I screamed warnings, tried to tell them: I did, I swear I did! But they couldn't hear me from way up there. As the beasts chased them inside, I saw him. The Warlord himself walked through the center of this very street where I currently stand.

Drevlin.

He followed them inside. I bolted from my seat, running to the door, but my nurse tackled me, pinning me to the floor. I screamed at her, bit her, tried everything to get her off of me. But she held her ground. I don't know how long I lay there, pinned to the floor. But it was long enough.

I saw the souls of my parents pass by me, my father's silent voice apologising for not being able to do his job. It wasn't his fault. How does one man, who ruled a small province, fight a Warlord like Drevlin without the king's help? I told him that it wasn't his fault; my nurse thought me mad talking to the air.

She didn't see them... and I didn't see my sister's soul.

That night, I resolved that I would save one of us. Tajna was all I had left, my only family. Once Drevlin had destroyed every inch of my beloved city, my nurse smuggled me past his guards somehow. She continued my education as I continued to try and find my sister. It took years, and the sea tried to help. All I knew was that Tajna had stuck close to the shores, no matter how distant they were from home. They whispered her name constantly.

As I grew in age and knowledge, I was shunted off here or there for my education. I had power that no one in our family professed. Magic. Once it was under control, I found Tajna.

I remember the first time I saw Tajna face to face. I had come back from one of Master Archanius' retreats. I couldn't have been more than sixteen at the time. I had traced her to a small docking town called Wystera. I approached her, smile on my face. Finally, my sister! But she didn't know who I was. I told her that it was me. She told me she had no sister, that she was an only child. It was as if I had never been born.

I came away broken that day. She didn't know who I was. Had I neglected her too long? I couldn't help her until my own powers were manageable; even if they aren't very strong, they are wild. I could have hurt her. I made it a point to find reason to run into her after that, but nothing sparked a memory. And...every time I ran into her it was as if that was the first time I had run into her. She never remembered me from the last time.

Master Archanius told me that grief can do mightily bad things to the mind, warping it and changing it. What did my sister see that did this to her?

She nearly killed me when I was twenty. By then, she had learned tricks of the trade regarding street life. I tried to talk to her and she did not find it amusing. Her blades were sharper than most... I didn't want to know what she had become.

I tried harder to release her of that life.

I failed.

And now I wait. I know she is on her way here. I know she comes with fury, grief, pain and anger. I know what she intends on doing, for I know that just beyond the horizon of the sea, a ship sits there, dark and menacing.

That's what the sea whispered to me.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 15:35:14)

Wax and Wane, Rise and Fall
by superjars

Wax.

And Rise.

Staring down at all the world
From high upon her throne,
The queen of lights looks around
For those she calls her own.

She searches near; she searches far
But friends, she cannot find,
With ev'ry moment that passes by
She hopes to meet her kind,
She knows not where or why or how
But has made up her mind.

So with a flourish and with a bow,
She comes to join the dance.
Left foot, right foot, twirling and spinning,
Right now, it is her chance.
To get caught up in the dance and turn,
To move around, to prance
To and fro, she weaves about the dance floor
Striking a graceful stance.

The night trails on; the whole world is full and bright
And she is full of joy.
Her sons and daughters come to join her there;
All the girls and ev’ry boy.
All gathered with her to support her cause
And stop her sister’s ploy.
The music stops; she is all filled with pain.
Her partner’s look is coy
And something’s going on with all of this,
Her world is not a toy.

The Moon; she’s Queen of the Sparkling Sky
The Stars; her children all
The Sea; her sister, her greatest foe
The Tides are at her call.
For years they’ve fought while the whole world slept;
To see the other fall.
Each dawn between the ocean and the sky
Their battle is forced to stall.

The tide comes in, the tide goes out
On each and every day.
Her sister has won another fight.
And now the sea must pay.
She groans and complains to the sun
But he has naught to say.
“You will just fight again tonight,”
He says in golden ray.

Staring up into the sky
From deep beneath her waves
The Water’s Queen looks upon
The kingdom that she craves.

Fall and

Wane.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/1/2010 16:11:19)

White Washed
by Sheriff Duncan

Torrents fall from the great Source, crashing into tremendous waves as they descend.
The force of the impact causes ripples from the epicenter, reaching my position before turning back.
Even the enormous birds are affected by the tides.

I hold onto the red surface of my craft, seeking shelter in its ability to withstand the constant rocking.
A blue mast protrudes from the center, reaching towards the walls of this cavern;
Cavern, this cavern which holds us hostage and forces us back under the Source.

White surfaces reflect across the water's surface, breaking and reassembling as the waves disperse.
As the water rises so do I, and I see the safety of the walls fall closer into reach.
Bending down, I reach into the water to push my way towards them.

It's not enough: never enough.

Again my hopes fall as the water rises;
The rage of this sea begins to calm as the body of water grows much larger than the force behind its motion.
As the reservoir dries, the great Source trickles;
The sea stops growing, still too short to reach the protection above.

I wade alone on my bulwark from the water;
The birds flock together, seeking safety in numbers from the great supporting predator.
Their yellow feathers sending the liquid arms back to the body.

They have seen this intermittent storm many more times than I have.
The birds have become used to it; nearly unphased by the rising of the tides.
Envy seeps into me as I desire nothing more than their stone will in this deranged cataclysm.

When it seems the storm has subsided, the true horror shows his face.

A colossal beast descends into the sea, dwarfing my great tormentor;
Its foot descends into the deep sea, making it appear to be a shallow stream.
Its body rests on the ocean floor, breaching the water's surface and ascending past both the great walls and the Source.

A shower of glowing orbs descends as a balm is poured onto the giant's flowing hair.
The orbs coat the water, concealing my whereabouts.
I stare in awe at this creature with golden hair flowing down to the water, where it reaches out like tentacles.

As the enormous one ran its fingers through its hair, more of these strange orbs are produced and so my veil grows.

I stare in awe at the creature who makes slight of the prison I find myself in,
The creature whose skin, unlike mine, glosses and welcomes the water.
The light reflects from this surface, gleaming as more of the orbs race down its back.

After some time, the creature begins to stand.
The glass orbs have long since disappeared, replaced by a greasy residue along the water's surface.
Water drips from the beast; the water level recedes. I did not recognize that the surface had risen with the addition of the creature's body, though it had tremendously.

The tide lowered, the giant did that which I had been attempting for some time now; it escaped.
Unphased by the torment of my punisher, the creature left the abyss.

Was my pain without relief?

The creature's hand shot into the deep fathoms, sending small ripples towards me and my ship.
From the depths, a chain is brought;
With a quick tug, the chain yields to the force of the giant's hand.

With that, a roar belts out across the chasm;
A great whirlpool opens up from whence the chain was pulled.
This great creature was no savior, just another demon here to torture.

The whirlpool continues, swallowing up the entire body of water;
Its size seems to increase as the the great spout twists and turns.

I begin to feel the tug, the current beneath me.
It reels me in, sucking me ever closer to my doom.

As I reach the end to my descent, I look deep into this sea, my destructor.
I can see the floor;
This whirlpool, it gluttonously devours the entire area, sucking all into its depths.

The flock of birds circle the whirlpool;
They are pulled under but seem to inevitably return to the air.
This is my one shot at survival, and I must take it.

Mounting the great beasts, I clutch with all my might.
These feathered saviors, my only hope for the future.
I cling for dear life; this creature is indifferent towards my presence on his body.

Minutes pass as I await this certain doom.
In and out, my ride flows from underwater to back above the surface.
Now, the final drops of water descend into the source of this whirlpool;
A hole in the floor surrounded by shining silver.

I dismount and collect my wits;
I remember now, I have done this before.
I am a fisherman, though I have yet to catch a fish.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/7/2010 0:27:33)

A Letter To Ms. Vox
By Goldstein

Dear Ms. Vox, or however you wish to be addressed…

Hail and well-met. I have recently heard of your coming into a large library or sorts. I have also heard of your deep love of oceans. I sorely hope you'll accept the humble letter I am about to impart to you, despite it being disappointing in nature. I am sincerely sorry to “burst your bubble” of expectations, pardoning the pun.

I am sad to inform you that not all planets and worlds share your deep love for the oceans and all the creatures inside them, even though I wish they did. One place in particular is my own home; you call it Terra, I call it… Earth. One incident, one truly horrible incident…what was it, fifty years ago? If memory serves—I wasn’t alive when it happened—a company, intentionally or not, dealt a heavy blow to a body of water known on Earth as the Gulf of Mexico…

April 20th, 2010. It was a Tuesday. That’s when an oil rig exploded in the Gulf of Mexico. It killed eleven and seriously injured seventeen others. The fire was so hot and intense that it melted paint off of the boat. It sank two days later. The resulting gush of oil is still considered the worst spill in U.S. history.

I’m sorry, I assume too much. U.S. stands for United States. The United States is…well, maybe, the most powerful country on Earth. However, by the time of the oil explosion, the U.S. was suffering an economic slump and declining in social values. If you already know this, please excuse my ignorance.

The company that owned the rig, BP, set out to right their wrong. A clean-up effort ensued. It was not enough. By May 9th, tar balls (small, solid balls of oil) had appeared on Dauphin Island in Alabama, which was alarming. Several attempts were made to plug the hole, including a cap of cement and one attempt to clog the hole with, and I do not jest…golf balls and old tires. Yes, you must admit that BP looked at the long-term solutions, eh? But I digress.

Last I heard it was July 10th, 2010, eighty-one days after the initial explosion. Who knows how many millions of gallons of oil had spilt out by then. BP was trying to cap it with another cap. Another attempt. I don’t know if it worked, by then I had given up and isolated myself so I could write. Alone. From what I can figure, there are about three possible scenarios about this oil spill.

Best-case scenario, Ms. Vox: The new cap works. The spill finally stops, BP and the government work together to clean up the mess. The ecosystem begins to heal after all oil is skimmed off the surface. In maybe fifty years, things start to look up. Plus, the world sees the horrors of oil and how illogical and dangerous it is to use, so they stop using it. The environment in general improves and new forms of energy, such as solar and wind, emerge. The oil spill is terrible, but it has a silver lining.

The middle path. The new cap fails, and it takes more attempts to eventually close it. By then, the damage to the ecosystem is very severe. It may take somewhere up to three hundred years for the environment to recover. BP has also declared bankruptcy, the cost of cleaning up being too expensive for them to handle. So when funds for the clean-up effort are needed, the government turns to the taxpayers. The raise in taxes worsens an already painful economy. The U.S. loses its number one position in the world, and it has no influence to change the world and its use of oil. The new superpower instead continues to use oil, and this scenario will eventually happen to them too. The ecosystem is damaged, the U.S. in economic ruin, and oil consumption is continued. Not the best scenario, but it could be worse…

The all-time worst case scenario. The cap is never fixed. BP gives up and, despite repeated tries by the government, the gush is never stemmed. The oil gushes until the entire deposit is exhausted. The entire ecosystem is destroyed for thousands of years, maybe forever. The dolphins, the whales, the birds, the pelicans, the plants, all dead…forever. Everyone living on the coasts that is affected by the spill leaves, abandoning the area. However, like the first scenario, oil is never used again. Who knows? Remember, this is all speculation on my part. Lord knows if I’m right or not.

Well, thus concludes my letter. I hope it reaches you quickly, Ms. Vox. I must say I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. I should say that you’ll receive more, if that strikes your fancy. Eh?

Your New Correspondent,
Nikolai Orwell


Dearest Nikolai,

My thanks for this report. I was moved by this plight, seeing that such has taken place. Unfortunately, your situation is not isolated. I have visited many worlds, seen many things. Quite frequently, when a society is dependent on this organic fuel, this oil, things happen, no matter what precautions are taken. To read this first hand though, was different from my previous experiences.

I did some research and found out that this incident indeed was rectified, though the journey there was arduous. But hope remained in enough Terrans, that the Gulf recovered, as did those who lived off of it.

I look forward to your next report.

Eukara Vox



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/7/2010 0:36:13)

Feline Fancy
by Alexander Shiveran

Storm-cloud furred with amber eyes,
slit-pupiled feline gaze.
A steady step under her thunderous growl
liquid smooth, one paw, the next,
placed with graceful poise.

She halts. A tail switch the only tell,
to forecast the coming storm.

Her haunches tense as she rises,
a thunderhead amassing,
that strikes! A lightning bolt dive,
to assail the ball with a wind-swift bite,
prey lifted and battered away,
a branch in the tornado.

Again the pause, between her gusts of wind
amber orbs tracking slow.
Upward to her feet
then further still, her back arching
into the sky, to stretch,
and hold, rumbles of tension
and exertion run tip to tail
as she yawns,
her arc, a living rainbow, quivers.

Then slowly sinks, dripping down,
back to the floor, the ball forgotten;
She forms a puddle,
as she drizzles down,
broken only
by the ripples of her breath.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/7/2010 0:55:59)

Send Me a Song
by Master Samak

Startled awake by winds now wild and strong,
a young lady fair cries out against the crashing waves,
her tears lost among the salty air.
As the room swims together her hands search for a book,
useless to her love now, too sodden to hold the songs she hears,
too lifeless to hold tight or let go.

Through the windows and door shines full moonlight,
illuminating the sand to its pristine white
and darkening the seas beyond.
This lady fair, dressed in petticoats dyed red,
presses back a sob and stumbles out onto the shore,
wishing for the sun to come set the waters afire.

At each trembling step, the mists of night grow,
swirling between her and the tumultuous waves,
shielding their last from the void beyond.
But her approach never falters as she nears the water's edge,
the sands no longer moving while the wind pulls her back,
all falling silent before the seas without life.

The words trickle from her lips so faint and so clear,
different from the many times before
but necessary to find her roving love again.
With the last sound but a breath caught upon the wind,
she steps into the water and feels it surge around her, over her,
turning its back on the land so she may follow.

From her there is no struggle against the whirling rush
as it goes throughout the leagues of the deep
and chills her soul with those of the lost.
As the crushing torrent about her slows
and lays her down in the fading light
she touches his hand and opens her eyes.

The young lady fair does not see the burned and cracked hulls of ships
in the decaying graveyard of darkness and silence and death,
entombed evermore by the shifting sands of the tide.
She instead walks by the new shore and hears his song,
calm like the birds on the wind, and she turns and smiles
and waves to him and sends him her song.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/10/2010 23:17:30)

My Only Solace
by Sirlinias Maarlan

Breath.

This was all the remaining man had left as he pulled himself slowly over the red sands of the beach. Everything else had been taken from him.

Breath and waiting to die.

I should have gone down there, helped him in some way, but the two large guards standing on either side would easily have held me back from doing anything. They told me there was nothing I could do but watch and wait for his death to come. I knew there were several things that I could do for those who were suffering, but they weren't about to let me down there to find out; I knew that all too well. I have lost count of how many battlefields I have witnessed. The injured and dying crying out for help, pain drifting like a palpable entity over the entire place, all of this is very familiar, almost too familiar.

My thoughts wandered from the present to peruse the events that had led to this moment in time; this particular sequence had seemed like it was preordained by the gods themselves. In the beginning, I would have counted this kind of predetermined course a good thing, foreshadowing an assured victory, but looking back on it now I can only feel grief and sorrow at the fact that these events comprise the worst tragedy I've yet faced. At times like these, my eidetic memory feels much more like a curse than the blessing it typically is in my line of work. If you can clearly remember everything that takes place around you, it is much simpler to write unbiased history, to pass on the events exactly as they occurred. But some happenings, the worst ones, you wish you could just erase from your mind completely.

Today was one of those memories. I had crouched behind a rather smelly barrel as the ship sailed into the docks. And I was not alone in this: several hundred men hid upon the ship as well, crouched and cramped behind barrels and boxes, hidden below deck or in one of the many cabins that lined the deck. I remember being surprised that such a full vessel did not sink from the tremendous weight of gear and fighters who found places aboard it. And yet, there we were, sailing into what we thought was an unsuspecting city, warriors all, ready to leap over the railings and fight for their country.

But somehow the enemy had known. Even now, as I watched this comrade crawling back towards the sea, I have no idea who betrayed us to her. I have suspicions, of course, but nothing to back them up: no concrete facts whatsoever. And it is unlikely that she will tell me who it was; she always did love keeping her little secrets from me, especially since she knows how much it bothers me when she does. This particular secret, though? She can keep it. I'd rather not know which poor soul she corrupted with promises of power or riches. Staring out on the bloodied beach, I was aware that whoever it was would likely be lying out there somewhere on the beach, dead or dying.

And then a thought crossed my mind; it brought a bitter laugh of irony to my lips. What if it had been the very man I now watched make his way to the edge of the water who betrayed us? I could see him out there clearly, inching his way to the lapping water, moving like a distraught captain trying desperately to get back to his ship, a ship I could clearly see, burning on the horizon. And yet, the man still carried on towards the water's edge, inch by agonizing inch. Almost as if he had something to prove, some wrong that could only be righted by saving the ships. Or maybe that's just what I saw in him.

These men had fought bravely, even with the odds stacked against them. Our intelligence had been misled and there were five times the warriors waiting for us than we had expected when we jumped over the edge and onto the docks. And they were not surprised at all by our assault. But even through all of this misfortune, I have nothing but praise to give to the soldiers, for they never wavered in their resolve. In fact, despite being outnumbered by such a large amount, they still managed to do quite a bit of damage and kill many more soldiers than were lost from our side in the assault. I, at least, can take solace in this: we have greatly depleted the enemy's forces. Only time will tell if it will be enough to make any real shift in the tides of battle, but I pray I will be there to see her face if it finally does. That will be a glorious day, when she is finally defeated and forced to flee before a triumphant army.

But that day isn't today. My gaze shifted again to the man's struggle. He reached the water and came to his feet, staring out at the burning ships. Slowly, he turned away and looked in my direction, pain, anguish and guilt all evident on his face. He opened his mouth wide and let loose a carnal roar of fury mixed with deep sadness. I watched him, mesmerized by the realization of his own betrayal; if it is the man, he now knows there are no riches or power coming his way. Then, the cry was cut short, an arrow suddenly sprouting from the man's chest, quickly joined by two others. He stood there a moment, mouth agape, staring out towards me. For a second, our eyes met and, in that moment, each of us can see into the other's soul. I can't tell you what the other man saw, but I know that what flashed before my eyes, the story of this man's life, is something I'll never forget.

I am looking out onto a quiet lake, the smell of a new rain filling my senses. I can hear the water gently lapping against the dock and the sounds of the night echoing from all around. I get the distinct sense that this is a place I frequent, a place that holds great meaning for me. I look down onto the surface of that clear lake and see the reflection of that man staring back at me. And I am not alone; with me is a family: wife, twin daughters, our parents. We are all standing there, laughing and smiling down at the water, happy and content. It is a feeling I have not experienced before now, even in all the years that I have been around. And to be honest, I kind of like it. It feels right somehow, as if this is the way my life should be. I have thought many times about starting a family, but the same problems always stop me from doing so: I do not change, but almost everyone else does. But for these few final breaths, I know what it is like to have a family. I can feel the love that I have for each of them, the pride in their accomplishments, the joy in their happiness.

But then the moment is gone. I am back in the present and the man is teetering backwards, falling dead into the water.

A lone tear traces its way down my cheek as the guards take hold of me violently, pulling me away from the beach and towards a meeting I am not looking forward to. She will be waiting for me in her palace, wanting to gloat about her victory. It won't be the first time we've done this little dance, and as we march through the halls, I know it won't be the last either. But through it all, I will hold on to the gift that man has given to me, the pictures that are now permanent residents in my mind: standing by a lake with a family gathered around me, peaceful and content with not a care in the world. This will be my only solace, in a world that increasingly looks more and more bleak.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/11/2010 0:01:21)

Promises Given, Promises Broken
by Tiriel

The beach was deserted, the surf rumbling in with the tide in the unchanging, ceaseless rhythm of the ocean. Pristine sands stretched out in either direction as far as the eye could see: a little slice of paradise accessible only by a small, overgrown track that was miles off the main road through the area. Unseen birds called one to the next in the trees near the beach until a sudden silence fell upon them, a silence followed by a raucous explosion of noise as the birds fled the trees, darting off their perches and winging their way inland with crass cries of alarm.

Emerging onto the beach, the man seemed to be little cause for the alarm displayed by distantly receding specks which were the birds, and yet, there was about him an almost palpable aura of anger and sadness, mixed through with the distant rumbling of an incoming storm. He swept forward, uncaring for the beauty around him, and stopped inches from the high point of the incoming waves, his voice loud and angry as he shouted, apparently to no one.

“I did what you asked of me! Everything and more! You promised me, you promised to bring her back to me!” There was no reply to the man’s rage, only the unceasing susurration of the waves and the wash of the surf against the sand. “I know you’re there, Auroras. You can’t hide from me! You promised me!”

Amidst the sound of the waves, one could, had they known what it was they were listening for, just faintly catch the hint of a sound, as of a voice deep as the ocean itself speaking in time with the rumbling of the waves. “No.”

Incensed, the man took a step forward. “You promised me! Don’t deny it! You said that if I did what was asked of me you would reunite me with her. I did everything, everything you asked of me, without question, without hesitation. You owe this to me; you can’t go back on your word now!”

The voice in the surf rumbled, somehow gently, as though instructing a wayward child. “There is no remedy for death. Even by the power of the gods, this thing is impossible. I said I would reunite you and I will, if that is what you desire.” From the surf emerged a sleek, scaled head, followed by a long, lithe neck, until a great Leviathan towered over the man from its position in the water.

Blue eyes shifted, blazing storm-grey and anger. “You lied, Auroras, you lied to me!”

“No, you merely misinterpreted my meaning; the fault lies with you, not me.”

“Don’t give me that! You are the Lord of Water, of Magic, of Prophecy. You foresaw what was coming and you chose me for it. I did what you wanted, I renewed the Stream and I revitalized the Tree. You promised me this. This was my reward for the hardships I endured!”

“Sacrifices, necessary sacrifices, for the good of all.”

The man’s voice fell, taking on a deadly soft edge. “What did you just say?”

The Leviathan shook its head, the voice of the god emerging from its mouth. “Sacrifices had to be made to ensure the proper results would come to pass. Prophecy is a delicate art. The path I chose to follow was the one that offered the greatest chance of success.”

“You… You’re saying that, that you did this to me? That all of this is because of your actions?”

The surf rumbled, grumbling in an almost affronted manner. “No, the Elder Shadow did this to you. Were it not for his actions—“

“Enough! I don’t want excuses, Auroras. Did you, or did you not intervene and aid in what happened?”

The Leviathan twisted its head to one side slightly, and then shook itself, spraying crystal droplets of water about in agitation as Auroras answered. “If you insist, then yes. Prophecy is delicate, involving probability, chance. I acted to keep events on the path that would lead to the highest probability of success. Her death was a necessary sacrifice.”

The man dropped to his knees in the surf, water washing up and around him as he shook his head. “No, no, that can’t… You, you did this to me? You caused her death so that, so that I would…” He looked up, eyes burning in rage as he screamed, “What about Imla? What about my family? Did you cause that as well? More sacrifices for the good of the gods? Answer me!”

“Yes, I worked to see that events came to pass as they must.”

“This, this is your fault… My family, my home, my love…” The man stood slowly, the tide pressing against him, up to his knees now. He pointed at the Leviathan, his voice deadly soft. “I learned a great deal when I destroyed the Elder Shadow: about myself and about the gods. Mark my words, Auroras, mark them well. I was the one who renewed the Stream, I was the one who revitalized the Tree, and for that I have been cheated of my reward. This is not over. I will find you, and I will rain down such destruction and horror on you and all that you hold dear that reality itself will tremble in fear.”

“Would you raise your hand against a god, mortal? The gods cannot be unseated by so lowly a force. You are nothing but an insect railing against the heavens.”

The surf pounded against the man, slamming against his waist as he stood, defiant. “Then I will bring down the heavens themselves! You feared the Elder Shadow. Rightfully so, I saw what it was that he could do, and I know what he was. I swear it, Auroras, I swear it on the smoldering wrack of Imla and the grave of the woman that I love: I will kill you, and when you lie dead at my feet I will bring her back and nothing, nothing, will stop me! I keep my promises, Auroras; I am coming for you!”

Without a backward glance at the Leviathan, the man turned and strode away, uncaring for his sodden clothing. In the distance, far out to sea, the thunderstorm grumbled, the ocean churning with the emotions of the god of waters.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/11/2010 1:25:56)

A Reaper Treasure Hunt!
By Ultrapowerpie

“Grim, I swear, if this treasure hunt of yours is a red herring…”

“I don’t know WHAT you’re talking about, Necro!” the Grim Reaper said to his comrade/underling robed in a black robe similar to his own. “There’s no fish inside treasure chests! It makes things stink.” He nodded sagely, poised heroically on the bow of his own ship.

“You know what I mean: a wild goose chase!”

“No, no, I assure you; there's no animal in this treasure chest that was magically found thanks to this convenient treasure map left right outside of our giant hole in the ground to the entrance to our super-secret underground base.” Grim nodded sagely again.

“If it's super-secret, HOW did it get there, hmmmm?” Necro sighed, still not believing that Grim was the leader of the Reapers.

“That’s not important! What IS important is the spirit of ADVENTURE!” Grim declared boldly.

“I swear, if this treasure is a fake, I’m going to level a city or something…” Necro growled.

“Calm down, Necro; you seem agitated today,” Necro’s wife, Jenna, said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t help it. Ever since that freak cat/human hybrid incident, when this entire… lifestyle began, I’ve hated water. I managed to get over most forms of water, but the ocean… it’s so vast… and wet…” Necro shuddered.

“You DO realize you’re married to the Reaper of Water, right?”

“That’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten over most of it, but even with you by my side, I’m still somewhat nervous… especially since we’re on a Spanish Galleon of sorts instead of one of our sci-fi spaceships that can easily get us there within five minutes or less…”

“When we have an old fashioned treasure map, Necro, we just HAVE to have a pirate theme of sorts!” Grim added.

“But we’re not wearing pirate clothes… or talking like them at all…” Necro noted.

“I can’t help it if it’s not Talk Like a Pirate Day! Besides, pirates dressed all funnily and whatnot.”

“Funnily? Really, Grim? Really? You’re trying to butcher my language now, are you?”

“Yes, yes I am. NOW, LET’S ALL SING!”

“What pirate songs do you possibly know? You’re a skeleton who’s spent the better part of his life holed up inside a secret underground base that’s not a secret anymore…”

“Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me…”

“GRIM!” Necro yelled, completely mortified. “That song is copyrighted! You’ll have the omnifictional lawyers on our tails!”

“I thought that song was in the public domain!!”

“Are you mad??! It’s owned by Disney! They’ll NEVER let their copyrights go! They already own 1/10000000th of the Fictional Omniverse!”

“They are growing, aren’t they… trying for complete domination…” Grim growled.

“Hello, weren’t we on a nautical adventure or something?” Jenna asked.

“Oh please, nautical adventures are SO overrated in fictional pieces. Treasure Island was like, totally boring and overdone,” Necro complained.

“Oh, stop being such a fuddy-duddy,” Jenna teased.

“But there’s nothing good at sea! There’s scurvy, cabin fever, lack of females… I mean honestly, I don’t know how the heck those pirates stood it on those ships. And instead of spending the gold, they bury it. Why? It makes no sense! It’s not like the gold is going to appreciate over time or something… well I guess it DOES, but not within the pirate’s lifetime. And then you have all these treasure maps all over the place with their treasure! I swear, pirates are like squirrels and acorns with their treasure!”

“We’re here!!!!” Grim suddenly called out.

“When did you suddenly change over into a Blackbeard pirate costume?” Necro asked, mildly surprised.

“We’re shapeshifters, remember?

“Then explain how I am in a pirate costume?” Necro asked.

“I shapeshifted you,” Jenna said, shrugging, also in a stereotypical pirate costume.

“What… that’s clearly godmodding!!!!!”

“Godmodding? What is this, an RP?”

“It might as WELL be a RolePlay with the amount of stuff we do here,” Necro growled. “That’s still godmodding.”

“Look, if it will get this story moving, I’M the one who forced you to change,” a booming voice from the sky… boomed.

“The Narrator/Author!!” all three of the pirates gasped together.

“Yes, it is I, the almighty Narrator/Author who essentially controls everything that goes on but somehow gives everyone limited free will at the same time. I’m not quite sure how this arrangement works out, but I'll get back to you as soon as I do,” the voice boomed again.

“That’s still god…”

“Dood, in this planet, I AM the god here. I am the Dungeon Master to your RPG. To me, everything goes how I want, no matter what the players want. If I want to make things unfair, I make them unfair. That’s my job, really. Heck, I personally view the author as the ultimate antagonist to the poor protagonists…”

“Umm, while I hate to interrupt this lovely conversation, don’t we have a treasure to find?” Jenna asked.

“Excellent point, Jenna! I always did like you,” the voice boomed. “Carry on with your little adventure for the amusement of the readers!”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the group, now in pirate costumes, continued on their epic adventure to find whatever treasure was there, which was still suspicious as previously mentioned with the finding of the map and whatnot. This adventure throughout the island was so epic it can not possibly be described in words, and thus it is once again left to the imagination of the user to imagine just exactly what happened on this small desolate island with a few palm trees.

At the spot of the treasure chest…

“There it is! The treasure chest! Now let’s open…” Grim began.

“WAIT!!!!” Necro roared, scaring Grim and Jenna with this sudden outburst.

“What??!!” they said in unison.

“It could be… A TRAP!!!”

“WHAT???!!!” they said louder in unison.

“My very first video game... was Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time… I think… or was it… never mind. The point is, from that game, I learned that Treasure Chests are your friends! Everything good is in treasure chests! I had this mentality for a while… until… until…”

“Until what?” they asked in unison yet again.

“THE TREASURE CHESTS BETRAYED ME!!!” Necro cried.

“HOW??!” they asked.

“It was… a MIMIC!!!”

“What’s a mimic?” Jenna asked.

“A HORRIBLE creature that disguises itself as a treasure chest! You walk up to it, thinking you’re getting a nice reward… and then BAM! It attacks you!!!”

“That is sick and wrong!!” Grim exclaimed. “But I didn’t know that we had Mimics here in Tipa…”

“They infiltrate where you least expect it! There is only ONE way to make sure that this vile thing is not a Mimic!!!!!”

“What are you going to…”

“CLEAR!!” Necro yelled, pressing a button on a remote that no one had seen previously. Suddenly, six small lines of blue light started swirling around the area of the treasure chest, until the Orbital Ion Cannon obtained a lock on the treasure chest, and then the giant beam of ionic blue shot down from the satellite and obliterated everything within the blast radius.

A few seconds later, after everyone had regained their hearing and sight, all that was left of the treasure chest was a giant hole in the ground.

“You… NOW WE’LL NEVER KNOW WHAT WAS IN THERE!!!” Grim screamed.

“But now we’ll never be attacked by a Mimic, or worse, a treasure chest with poison mist! They have those too! You should thank me for saving you!!”

“I’ll thank you..” Jenna growled, summoning a giant tidal wave from the edge of the island, ready to practically drown the entire island in a massive tsunami.

“I have one thing to say before you attempt to drown me,” Necro requested.

“And that would be?” Jenna asked.

“Time to 'wave' goodbye!”

And thus the treasure hunt of the Reapers ended in a soggy mess, and one less island visible to the naked eye on the planet of Tipa.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/12/2010 0:04:31)

A Singular Red Line
By Fleur Du Mal and Kristallo

The moon slept heavily under the muted canopy of the still skies. Only the reflections of the stars bounded to and fro on the ripples as slaves to the fancy of that blackest of seas. The wind swooshed liberally over its glistening surface, stopping only for a mere heartbeat to kiss Judith’s long chestnut locks before it carried onwards to ruffle the fine sand on the shore. Unearthly laughter trailed the wild wind, ringing from the watery depths as the woman stepped into the sea and fell on her knees, her face hidden behind trembling hands. A white whirl surrounded her waist, as if to hold her still. The sea waited for her to stop her silent quivering before asking,

“What brings you here, Woman of the Dunes?”

Judith wiped her swollen eyes and looked down at her left ring finger beneath the surface. “I am here to drown my grief, to give myself to you, as my Love is destined to marry another woman in nine months, when she comes of age.”

Two big tears fell into the sea in front of her and the induced ripples hid her unadorned hand from her.

The sea murmured and purred around her as an amused cat. “You humans bewilder me. You have legs to carry you wherever you want to go, yet you cannot love freely?” Splashes of saltwater converged upon Judith’s face as the sea giggled at such an absurd thought.

The woman inched herself further in, until her chest was under the surface and the power of the current began to rock her body. “We did love freely,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “We did, until the priests came down to our town and announced that the Lady of the Moon had finally chosen a husband for her daughter… my dear Evan.” She sighed and glanced around her with a bitter smile on her lips. “Against the will of Gods, the desires of humans do not count for much, do they, Sea Lady?“

Judith took one more step. The small ripples splashed against her lips with little kisses of death as she wailed, “If I touch him again, I’ll die. If I can’t have him, I’ll die. He had no other choice but to give his word to them, and I'd rather drown than see him marry another.”

With those words, she lunged forward, but the currents pushed her back on the shore. Determinedly, she bit her lips together so tightly that her mouth became a singular red line as she tried to run into the waters again, but the sea withdrew herself from her, leaving behind only small waves to lick her ankles.

Murmuring, the deep voice surrounded her, caressing her ears. “Do not despair. I see a solution to your problem… I can give you your Love. However, my assistance does not come without a price. If I ask it of you, will you offer me the most valuable of your possessions?”

“Wasn’t I just ready to give you my life?” Judith exhaled the last words out of her mouth in one splutter, “I’d give anything.”

Full of laughter, the waters gathered back around the woman, algae and seaweed hugging her body and tickling her skin. High above, pitch-black clouds crept over the firmament, hiding the stars, stealing the last sources of light. The rumbling of currents grew louder under the approaching thunder.

Judith shivered in the darkness, yet forced the question out of her mouth, “What do you want for your help?”

Too afraid to scream, she felt a wet hand land on her hips, another on her cheek. Lightning split the sky above, illuminating the beautiful Lady of the Sea standing in front of her, her piercing green eyes sweeping over Judith’s countenance as if measuring her honesty and her tangled amethyst hair flowing to the rising wind.

“I want a human child, free to roam all realms. I cannot give birth to one, for everything I create is bound to live in me,” she bubbled while cold shivers ran through the human she held. “If you bring your Love here before the moon sets tomorrow night, and step into the waves together, I’ll bless you with two children and with my protection. This will nullify his vow to marry. The Moon Lady will not harm your children, as they are the anointed to another God. In return for my blessing, you will have to choose between the two and give either of them to me before their first birthday. “

Silence engulfed Judith. A child I would not see to grow old enough to really know, a child that wouldn’t really be mine to begin with, a child to be given away at an age when children are still suspect to suffer illnesses and sudden deaths, and mothers are better off not to have grown attached to them. Yet… for my Love… surely I can do that…

She nodded.


Sea Lady’s blessing bore fruit and Judith gave birth to twin girls. During their first few weeks, Evan held them both in his arms with pride, fascination and unconditional love, but Judith could not look at them without the choice before her weighing on her mind. She was ever observing the girls, ever counting the days. On some days, she tried to deny the existence of her obligation to the sea, but on other days, she shied away from touching the girls lest she would feel her heart grow fonder of them.

Then came an evening when the sun bled a crimson shimmer through mist over the dunes and painted their bedroom walls with it, and Judith stood by the girls as usual after tucking them in. Evan had already fallen into the happy slumber of a new parent, but Judith couldn’t tear herself away from the crib. Completely mesmerized by their frailty, she caressed the tiny arms of her younger daughter with her index finger.

She had just stroked the palm of her daughter when she suddenly gasped. The girl’s brown eyes had flickered open while she grabbed on to her mother’s finger.

Judith blinked. Pressing her other hand tightly against her chest she closed her eyes. Her heart pounded furiously. She breathed fast, mouth open, until the daylight had completely faltered. When she finally reopened her eyes, the girl still gazed straight at her direction. She shook her head and gently pulled her finger away, but even as she retired to bed, her daughter’s eyes followed her.

That night proved restless for Judith: a recurrent dream plagued her for the scant hours she slept.

In the dream she stood lost at a forsaken crossroads in the middle of barren land, the deadly sun blazing above her head. Her clothing hung on her in shreds; the remaining patches revealed her burning skin. Only panic reigned in her stronger than pain.

With her right hand she dragged an eagle and with her left hand a hawk. Only either of them could carry her home, but their wings lay covered in dust and their beaks scraped the cracked, dry earth.

In front of her she saw a bottle of water, just enough to revive one of the magnificent birds, but not both. She bit her lips and refused to choose. At that moment, she felt something scraping her legs. She looked down and saw Evan, bleeding to death.

I have to choose.

Judith woke up frantic, her eyes swollen and red. She clung to Evan beside her, who gently rocked her and stroked her back.

“It was only a bad dream, Love,” he whispered between soothing kisses on her forehead and temples.

Judith squeezed him tighter. Still sobbing, she finally lifted her face and asked, “If you could save only one of our daughters, which one would you choose?”

Evan’s body stiffened in her arms. “I couldn’t. I’d give my life, trying to save them both. Only monsters and Gods can throw away the life of one child for the life of the other. Monsters can, because they do not care, and Gods can, because… because nothing is final for those who play with life and death as it pleases them. Why would you even ask such a thing?”

She did not reply.

Later that day, Evan brought Judith a sunflower, her favourite. She pressed it against the doughy palms of the twins. The younger one grabbed the flower. Half-heartedly, the firstborn merely twitched her fingers and turned away from it.

By Judith’s decision, they named the younger twin Joselyn, and the older Anna.


Months flew past like drifts of dirt on the dunes. Joselyn’s uncontrollable fits of laughter filled the house with joy; even Anna smiled the first time to that sound. Otherwise, the firstborn preferred to keep her silence. Judith poured out the love in her heart to Joselyn, trying to suffocate her guilt every time she thought of the twins’ approaching first birthday.

Evan saw the growing distance between Judith and Anna. His efforts to talk about it were repeatedly shrugged off, yet he didn’t give up. Each day he shared the time, love, and patience he had equally between the twins. But the closer their birthday came, the more restless he grew.

Not only had the Sea Lady granted her protection to Evan on the night the high tide had washed over him and Judith, but she had also infused him with the desire to return and feel the waves against his skin again. Judith had never told Evan about the bargain she had made, thus he felt nothing but pure gratitude for the sea. For him, the lives of their daughters had pulsated into existence in the rushing waters of the tides. He thought it would be an appropriate homage to their past to celebrate the birthday on the shores, only a two-day-journey from where they lived.

Judith refused. Never before had such a tempest pillaged and raked through their house as they fought over it. The twins cried through the first day and turned silent the second. Their mother was adamant. Their father thought their mother had gone mad, but in the end she got her will. They would keep away from the shores.

The days ticked on, to the bleak birthday and then beyond—to wrath. For the betrayed Lady of the Sea waited on the shallow waters the whole day for nothing and as soon as the midnight had tripped over, she released her cold ire. She withdrew her protection from Evan. She whispered stories of horror to the fishermen about the woman who sold her baby to be drowned for a man who belonged to another. She sang to Moon Lady, reminding her of the insolence of Evan. And all this time she stayed calm: waiting, calling…


Brooding silence drowned the house. Happiness hid itself into Joselyn’s heart from Anna; hunger for love turned her eldest daughter into a thin shadow with sunken eyes. Even with Judith’s quiet decision to not take her to the sea, Anna received no affection. Her mother feared to give that to her, afraid that the Gods would swoop her away any given day. Evan, who had nurtured her before, now spent his nights dreaming in the moonlight and sleeping in the days. A faint spark flashed in his eyes at the sight of his dear daughters, but he could not tear himself from the moon. The puddles of silver on the midnight floor tied him inside while his heart tugged him towards the sea.

On the second birthday of the twins, Judith woke up to find him gone without a note. Salt currents streaking her face, she tied Anna to her back, swooped Joselyn into her arms, and started running for the shores. After a quarter of an hour, her legs gave away underneath her and she rolled down a dune. The twins cried, but she was deaf to them. She swiped sand and sweat away from her forehead and got up to run along the next dune until she would collapse again.

With the twins as her weight, trudging against the wind, it took Judith three days to reach the end of the undulating dunes and the edges of the shores. There, she sat down to watch the foaming waters, exhausted and resigned. She saw sandy footprints on a long, wooden pier, leading into the open waters and her heart told her she had lost Evan.

Her eyes dry and hurting, she grabbed Anna by the hand and led her a few steps into the water, then pushed her forward. The girl tried to fight against the strength of her mother, but she was too weak to escape. So, she was left to wriggle in the water, spitting out the saltwater that washed her features while her mother screamed,

“Please take her and return Evan to me! Please, I beg of you. I’m sorry that I broke my promise, but I am fulfilling it now. Give him back to me, please, please!”

Gusts of violent wind flew past the mother and the daughter. In the rising tide, Anna fought and coughed out the saltwater she inhaled into her lungs. She pinched her eyes shut against the churning currents and splashing water. Judith kept on pleading.

Nothing. The wind died.

Then, suddenly, the tide turned and swooped Joselyn, laughing, past the duo, far out into the sea. They heard her giggles turn into bubbles in the distance before she vanished.

“How could you?”

Judith turned to Evan, standing behind her and watching her holding the profusely coughing, other child in the water. Judith’s hands flopped down on her sides, totally limp. Anna stumbled and crawled away from her mother’s reach. Her father saw his daughter fall under the surface, dead-like.

“All the fishermen here know what kind of bargains you make, Judith.” He spat her name like it was poison.

“But, Evan, I did it for…”

“Spare it. The moon tortures me each night, peeling my eyes open with its devilish light. My daughters are dead. I’ve been living with a snake for two years, a snake that lives on expense of her own daughters. My Love died long ago… you are not her. Only monsters and Gods, only monsters and Gods…”

Each of Evan’s words struck Judith as a blow to her face. Her body bent and curled, as if to protect her inner wounds. She heard him walk past her and into the sea. From the corner of her eye she saw a small figure crawl out of the waters but didn’t recognize her own daughter. When the night fell, she tried to drown herself, but the waves carried her back to land time and time again.

Anna turned her back to the shores. The moon rose behind her and cast a thin shadow on the sand, pointing like an arrow to a lady clad in silver, standing right before her.

She nodded.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/12/2010 0:20:36)

A Summer Day
by jiggibidy

I sat on the rocks with my bare feet hanging over so that they just broke the surface of the water. I leaned back and sighed as I felt the warm sun on my chest and the cool water on my feet. I lifted my feet out of the water to stand on the rock and unbuttoned my shirt, dropping it behind me.

The rocks were deep purple, with seaweed clinging to a lot of the lower ones, where the huge boulders gradually became grains of sand. I could hear the sea lapping at the rocks and the babble of noises from the nearby town.

I inhaled deeply, and could taste the salty tang of the sea on my tongue. I unzipped my jeans to reveal the shorts I was wearing underneath. Stepping out of my jeans, I walked along the line of rocks that bordered this lagoon.

I looked down into the crystal water at the beautiful ruins of ships that lay below the surface. Well, they were beautiful to me. Everybody thought of this place as a graveyard, but to me, it was home.

Not literally, of course. Sadly, I’m only human, and I can’t live in these beautiful ruins. Still, I could hold my breath for a full five minutes before I needed to make my ascent, and even then it wasn’t a desperate need.

Not all the ships here were submerged, though; there was one that was still mostly above water. It used to be a large ferry, the sort that would take a few hundred people to an island overnight. It had gotten old and, eventually, replaced by bigger, faster and more ecological ships. So this ship was just left here to rust and sink.

I walked further down the rocks, turning my head to see a group of women watching me curiously. I smiled at them and beckoned them to follow me. I wondered if I could get them to swim with me, or if they could swim as well as I could. I doubted it; I was pretty good.

The women were all very pretty, clearly dressed for the summer. They looked at each other for a moment, and then started walking alongside me, keeping to the pavement on the other side of the small wall that separated the town from the lagoon.

I reached a small outcrop of rock, which was where I was headed. It was about a foot above the water level at high tide, almost perfectly flat, and jumping off of it took you straight to the sand, so you could avoid walking on stones.

I turned towards the women, who looked about my age, perhaps a year or two older, and asked them if they cared to join me for a swim. They conferred amongst themselves for a while. Then one of them, a tall woman with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail that fell below her shoulder blades, wearing a black and white striped bikini top, a pair of jean shorts and a pair of black flip-flops, said, “Sure, we’d love to.”

The group of women climbed over the short wall, and precariously made their way over the rocks to me, standing at the start of the small peninsula. “I’m John, by the way. And you are?” I gestured towards them.

“Melanie,” answered the woman in the bikini top and jean shorts.

“Sophie.”

“Amy.”

“Julianna.”

I smiled, “Pleased to meet you. Shall we?” I held my hand out to the lagoon.

“Let’s,” Melanie replied, smiling.

It was a short walk to the end of the peninsula, and when we got there I stood on the edge and turned to face the women. “I wouldn’t recommend swimming in those clothes. Do you not have anything more suitable for swimming?”

It turns out they did. They were all wearing swimwear of some form under their clothes. After a minute or two, and a little persuasion after Amy got cold feet, I was standing before four stunning women, and I couldn’t help but show off to them.

“Well, aren’t you going in the water, John?” Sophie asked, stepping towards me. The sun glistened off of her brown hair that brushed her shoulders in slight curls.

“Ladies first.” I held my arms out, inviting them to jump in.

“But you invited us to swim. You go in first.” Sophie walked towards me and playfully pushed my shoulder. I intentionally fell backwards into a dive, and cleanly broke the surface of the water. I flipped upright and burst out of the water, spraying the women, much to their dismay.

There was only a small amount of salt in the lagoon; most of the salt you could taste in the air was blown in from the sea beyond the rocks that bordered the lagoon. Either way, I could feel the slight sting in my eyes, but I was mostly used to it, having swum here almost every day since I moved here, over three years ago.

“Hey!” Sophie exclaimed, “I’m all wet now!”

"You shouldn't stand so close to the shore, then." I returned her smile and splashed some more water at the women. This time they all complained, and then jumped into the water with me. Amy and Julianna pencil jumped, whereas Melanie and Sophie dived in, almost in unison.

Now that we were all in the water, I thought it was time for a little more showing off. I dived under the water again and swam further into the lagoon, until the four women were just rippling blurs in the crystal clear water. I swam close to the sand, so my shadow wouldn’t give me away, although the bright green shorts or dark brown hair may have. I swam in an arc, far from what I imagined to be the women’s view, and swam to the base of the peninsula, pulling myself onto the flat rock.

The women were looking out to where they’d seen me swim and were starting to seem worried. I walked as quietly as I could to the end of the peninsula, hoping the sound of the water dripping from me wouldn’t alert them to me.

I crouched down onto the balls of my feet and said, “Looking for me?”

The four women turned to look at me, startled, “How did you do that?” Julianna exclaimed. Julianna was about six inches shorter than Melanie, who stood at around six feet. She was wearing a matching red bikini top and bottom and her wet, brown hair fell to her neck, where it clung. The sun glistened off of her dazzling green eyes.

I dived into the water again, flipping upright and emerging with my back to the peninsula, “I do apologize if I worried you. I can assure you it probably won’t happen again,” I smiled, and the women seemed to relax. “Would you care to see the ship wreckage with me?”

All four women obliged, and so we swam out into the lagoon. The slight breeze made tiny ripples in the water, and it was cool on my face in contrast to the warm sun. It was comfortably hot today, which was nice. Some days could be far too hot, especially when I spent most of my time out in the sun.

Soon enough, we were swimming above the wreckage, and the only way was down, “Can you dive, ladies?”

They all nodded, and Amy muttered, “Yup.”

I smiled at her, then said, “Alright. On three?” They all nodded again. “One. Two. Three!” I ducked my head and kicked, propelling straight down into the water. I turned around to see the women all dive in at different angles. When they were all underwater, and awaiting the next move, I beckoned them to follow me and swam towards the wreckage of a rather large yacht.

The yacht had been here a while, apparently long before I moved here. There were some flakes of white paint left, and if you swam a little closer, you could see the name that was engraved on the side in bold, cursive letters: The Temptress.

I could certainly understand where the ship got its name from. It was simply stunning, or it would have been before it was left here and sunk. Now it had a certain majesty about it, as if it had aged with dignity. The varnished wooden deck was largely intact, a sign that this yacht was well made.

I swam towards the boom of the ship and sat on it, leaning against the mast. I’d taken the sail off soon after I moved here, with the consent of the council, of course. Surprisingly, I was one of the few people that swam in the lagoon, despite it being one of the most beautiful parts of the town. I suppose most people just didn’t like the reputation it carried as a boat graveyard. Most people preferred the beach that was a half-mile walk from the peninsula.

I waved over the four women to try and join me to sit on the mast. We’d only been down a minute, but the women were already swimming for the surface. I reluctantly swam up, too, kicking off of the boom for a little extra speed.

I broke the surface of the water a couple of seconds after the women did and flicked my hair back out of my face, sending a streak of glistening water into the air. I turned to face the four women, who all seemed a little out of breath, “I do apologize, I usually swim on my own, so I forget that some people can’t hold their breath as long as I can.”

Sophie tilted her head slightly to the side as she asked, “So how long can you hold your breath?”

“I can hold my breath a full five minutes before I feel like I should probably swim to the the surface,” I replied. Might as well show off for the ladies.

After about fifteen minutes of whimsical conversation, we all went to sit on the peninsula, letting our feet hang in the water and letting the cool breeze dry our hair. Amy and Julianna were having a conversation of their own, which I only caught the occasional word of; it sounded like they were talking about a book, but I couldn’t be sure. Melanie was laying back on the flat rock of the peninsula, hands behind her head. It looked like she was deep in thought. Sophie was sitting next to me, leaning her head on my shoulder as she held my hand.

Some clouds were beginning to drift over from the direction of the town. They were thick, black, and they looked like they were on the warpath.

I’d had experience with storms like this, which were too frequent in this town, and knew that not being indoors was a bad idea. I judged that the storm would be here in under an hour. “Well, it appears our time here has been cut short, ladies.”

“What do you mean?” Sophie sounded almost hysterical.

I pointed her to the clouds making their way here from the town. “That’s one storm you don’t want to get caught up in, trust me. Do you have anywhere to stay?”

Sophie nodded. “Yeah, we have a hotel room at the far end of town.” That was about a half-hour walk, at least. They’d meet the storm in the middle of town.

I shook my head. “You’d walk right into the storm. I’d like you to stay at my place, until the storm passes or at least dies down.” I lived about a five-minute walk from here, and my house was built to withstand coastal storms like the one that was headed towards us. Sadly, some of the houses weren’t, and I dreaded seeing what the town would look like once the storm had passed.

The houses were being rebuilt progressively stronger, but that didn’t stop them from being torn apart when they were hit by a storm. Thankfully, very few people died, for those in the weaker houses stayed in places like the town hall or the church, both built similarly to mine. That’s not to say they didn’t look nice, they were just a bit stronger.

“Well, if you really think it’s best, then I guess we should.” Sophie lifted her head from my shoulder, looking at me.

I cupped her chin in my hand and looked back at her. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” I lifted my feet out of the water and stood up, still holding her hand. She reluctantly stood up, too. Amy and Julianna stood as well, stopping mid-conversation. “Melanie?” She didn’t appear to have heard, or been listening.

She turned her head to look at us. “Wuh? What’s happening?”

“There’s a storm that’s going to hit the town. We’re heading to my place until it passes.” The urgency in my voice was unnecessary—the storm was still quite far away—but I knew it was best to be prepared beforehand, so you don’t get caught short.

“Oh, right. We should go then.” Melanie sat up, then stood a few seconds later.

“That would be wise. Be sure to bring your clothes with you if you want to see them again.” Sophie and I walked down towards the town, still hand in hand, and I knelt down to pick up Sophie’s clothes. I then turned and gave them to her. “Keep walking in that direction, and I’ll meet you there. I just need to grab my clothes.”

She nodded and I let go of her hand, sprinting along the rocks. My jeans and shirt still lay slumped on the ground in an unkempt pile. I put my shirt on, not bothering to button it up, and quickly slipped into my jeans. I walked across a few of the rocks and to the wall that bordered the pavement and then sat on it, waiting for Sophie and the other three women to reach me.

They only took a couple of minutes, and were all talking amongst themselves when they got to me. I stood to greet them, and Sophie walked forward to hold my hand again, and the five of us walked through the town to my house.

I lived along the coast, which is why my house was one of the stronger ones. It was partially built into the side of a mountain, so it didn’t really get affected by the storms as much as some of the houses in the centre of town. It wasn’t long before we started to see the town gradually empty, people either returning home or heading for one of the safe buildings. By the time we’d reached my house, the town was almost completely empty.

I liked my house. It was about seventy years old and had been abandoned for the past forty. It was huge, though. Far too big for me to live in on my own, which is why I occasionally hosted parties, just to make use of the space. I realized that I hadn’t cleaned the basement from the last party; I just hadn’t gotten around to it. In that case, we’d stay in the main hall, which was just as large.

I was surprised that I’d gotten this house for so little money. Where I lived before, this house would have cost millions of pounds. There was a catch, though. I had to work for the town council. Thankfully, it was all simple enough, so I felt like I was coming out better off.

I opened the front door and led the women into my home. I didn’t need to bother to lock it as everybody here was polite and law-abiding. They looked around, wide-eyed, at the entrance hall, with the occasional, “Ooh!” or, “Wow!” I smiled and looked at Sophie, who was absorbed in a painting that hung on one of the walls, and we walked over to it.

I realized that I should try and relieve some of the tension. “Everybody, please free to look around, make yourselves at home. I’d rather you didn’t go into the basement, though. I’ve not cleaned it yet.”

The painting wasn’t framed, it was just a canvas, and it showed a partially finished image of the town. There wasn’t a cloud in the painted sky, and the sun was shining brightly. A few buildings had been finished, and part of the sea was there, but after that, there was just the occasional colour and then just the lines that were sketched to show what else was to be painted.

“Did you paint this?” Sophie turned to look at me, and I couldn’t help but smile at her wide, hazel eyes.

“Yeah, that was me.” I looked at the painting. The canvas I was using was cut from the sail I took from The Temptress. When it was finished, I was hoping to get it displayed in the town hall. “I started it about a year and a half ago, but later on I didn't have much time to work on it. I thought I’d just hang it up here so people could see it. Otherwise it’d just be in my room all the time.”

“It’s beautiful. Did you use to paint for a living?” Her eyes were back on the painting.

“Not for a living, no. But it was a great way to pass time. I just got better as I practiced.”

“You got damn good.” Sophie looked back at me, smiling.

I couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “I suppose I did.”

We looked around to see that everybody else had wondered off into different rooms. I looked towards the door to the event hall. “Well, I guess I’d better show you where you’ll be staying. Just through here.”

We walked to the biggest door in the hall, even bigger than the front door. About nine feet in height, and about six in width, the English oak double doors were painted white with faded gold leaf spiraling around the edges of the door. The entire house was made of English oak. I often wondered how they got the oak here, as this house was seventy years old and we were thousands of miles from England.

I looked back at the rather dull entrance hall. I’d spent six months cleaning this place, which probably contributed to its price. Forty years of abandonment left me with more than a little work to do. It was more than worth it, though. This place was beautiful beyond words.

The walls of the entrance hall were painted with a soft blue, the ceiling with white, and it had four ornate shades over the four light fittings in the centre of the room.

I remembered that Sophie and I weren’t the only people in the house, sadly: “Amy! Julianna! Melanie! Could you come into the entrance hall, please?”

After a minute or two, the three women appeared from various rooms and I beckoned them to me. When they were gathered, I slid open the doors to the event hall and we walked into the room where we would be braving the storm.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/12/2010 0:29:02)

A Bottle of Memories
by Versilaryan

Alone, in a dark room,
a child scribbles furiously.
He pauses for a moment,
thinks,
and continues.
At last, he sets his pen down,
his project complete.
He holds his cherished thoughts,
hopes and dreams
up to the window,
scrutinizing.
And then they are folded away,
sealed with a cork.

He walks a long and winding road
between trees set aflame:
dead, twisted branches
crunching under his feet.
On a whim, he undoes the seal,
folds a new memory,
places it with the others.
His preparations complete,
he casts his thoughts towards the ocean
and waves goodbye
to his memories,
encased in glass.

His deed done, the child turns,
gives one last longing look towards the sea.
A jewel glints in return,
drifts up to the sky
containing a small child
and a piece of the fire
that blazed around and above him.

A bottle of memories
floats in azure skies,
beneath silver suns,
among the stars.
It wanders
alone,
but bearing the hopes and dreams
of the child who cast it away.

Another small child
leaves her own footprints upon the earth,
watches as they dissolve
and tries again.
She shields her eyes from the sun
and sees a jewel, glinting in the sunlight.
Eyes light up,
a jaw drops
and the child eagerly awaits the gem drifting closer.

But when it arrives
and the child pulls the seal,
Sea foam washes out
and memories, placed by loving hands
dissolve in another.
A blackened slip
is ignored
as the child walks away
and an empty bottle and tattered memories
hit the sand.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/17/2010 15:05:23)

Groundwater Planet: A Curious Place
by Xplayer1

The scarce jobs at the Galactic Oceanographers Agency (GOA) are as prestigious as they are engaging. In my brief experience in academia, I have found that “engaging” is either a euphemism for “really fun,” “insanely difficult,” or both. To clarify, I use engaging to mean “an overload of strangeness that usually involves much paperwork to be filed afterwards.” A string of serial murders is “engaging,” but so is a celebrity divorce.

However, I digress. The GOA was founded seventy-five (75) years ago to address a very specific problem in the (rarely visited) academic halls of the galaxy. Over 90% of all known bodies of water remain, as of yet, unexplored, which would imply millions, if not billions, of undiscovered forms of life; on the other hand, over 90% of statistics are made up on the spot, which would imply billions, if not trillions of undiscovered forms of bull crap—but again, I digress. Even though it is doubtful that the universe contains enough paper to record, print, and (ugh!) file all the mysteries of the ocean, it is still my job, my life’s ambition, to solve such mysteries: to expand the frontier of what is thought to be possible. Even in a world where magic spells are cast freely by the most average of persons willing to study them and interplanetary travel is as simple as an hour’s ride to Alpha Centauri, there seems to be an ignorance about what lies beneath the surface of the galaxy’s waters. That is why I am a scientist: to create knowledge for the masses to ignore and toss aside (or at best, glaze over in a high school oceanography course).

Of course, this goes without saying that even an open-minded, objective scientist can sometimes be thrown into the void of disbelief. For a young, inexperienced novice such as myself, this happens often, approximately once every ten minutes. Disbelief takes various different forms, ranging from mild—the Chicago Cubs not winning the World Series in 300 years—to ridiculous—a rock falling out of the sky and landing on a very unfortunate cow (I’ve actually witnessed this, but that’s a story for another time). However, in my brief career, there has been one incident that was so outrageous, so absurd, that when I filed my report to my superior, he simply said to me, “I think you need professional help. My friend has a degree in psychology, etc…” (so much for the “marketplace of ideas”). Therefore, I decided to publish my findings independently, hoping that some miserable soul might find some truth in them, or at least get a good laugh. This is the curious incident involving Groundwater Planet.

Star XY42666 (seriously) has two orbiting bodies: a typical dry, lifeless, mid-size planet about 150 million kilometers from the star’s surface and another, supposedly lifeless, rock with an unheard of orbital radius of six million kilometers. The latter planet is one of the great mysteries of the galaxy; despite its close proximity to the star, water still existed in liquid form on the far side of the planet. Like the earth’s moon, the planet rotates so that only one side faces the star at any point in its orbit. The name “Groundwater Planet” comes from the fact that the water evaporates so quickly that it appears to be raining upwards. By the way, I did not name the planet; that was the fault of some drunken astronomer, but I digress. Again.

No one thought that life could possibly exist in the scientifically impossible environment where it seemed to be “raining” from the ground and the sky simultaneously and continuously. So, when our orbiting research station detected life signs in the midst of the vast open ocean, the expedition leader (who shall remain anonymous, but one can probably find his name online) sent me and my friend Andrew down in a shuttle to investigate. Naturally, no one had alerted us to the highly combustible gases in the upper atmosphere, which proceeded to ignite upon our entry. Our ship was a meteor, rocketing towards the planet’s surface at breakneck speed. At that moment, a little bit of advice my brother once gave me came to mind, “If you ever know you’re about to die, scream as loud as you can and jump out the nearest window.” I am still not sure why he told me this, but at the time, I followed it faithfully, shouting “Geronimo” and jumping out the escape hatch.

Up until that point, I was resentful of the standard protocol on shuttle missions, particularly the bulky suits that we were required to wear, but after jumping from a flaming shuttle 150,000 meters above the surface of the water, I had a change of heart about the equipment more dramatic than Ebenezer Scrooge had about Christmas. All I could do was pray that my suit would serve its three primary functions: keep me safe from the intense friction and elements of the air, deploy a parachute at the appropriate height above the water, and keep me dry when I wet myself. As I accelerated to terminal velocity (about 200 km/h), I prayed to every god and goddess I knew with the slim possibility that one of them would help me survive the ordeal (I even prayed to Zeus and Jupiter separately for good measure). At some point during the decent, I blacked out, and I can honestly say that the stratosphere of Groundwater Planet is the strangest place in which I have slept.

I woke up in a hot spring, that is, if you call an ocean of nearly boiling water and potentially toxic substances a “hot spring.” I saw that my suit had already inflated into “water landing mode” so that I resembled nothing more than a giant, soggy marshmallow. My arms were drooped over a sheet of metal, which I later identified as what remained of the shuttle. As I looked around, the landscape was barren, nothing but rain and waves in every direction. The steam from the ocean condensed into a dense fog that limited my vision to about fifty meters in every direction. Suddenly, a floodlight shone on me, and out of the fog emerged a boat…a sailboat. I heard muffled voices saying, “Here’s one; I think he’s alive.” I was too dizzy to observe the details of the tiny vessel, but I do remember a long, wide, rubber hose and a sucking sound, like when one has finished a drink with a straw, only ten times louder. A vacuum cleaner?

I had not even noticed that I had passed out again until I woke up on a warm and squishy water bed. My eyes had not even focused when I was immediately hurled from my reclined position onto the floor, launched by the force of the bed itself. As I tried to clear the ringing in my ears after landing on the hardwood, I could hear shouts of “He’s awake! He’s alive!” I looked up on the bed and saw three peculiar creatures jumping on it as if it were a trampoline. Each of them literally appeared as circles with arms and legs complete with gloves and shoes. The circles that served as their bodies were each exactly two meters in diameter. Two of them looked extremely similar, save that one was blue and the other was red. The third’s body was colored like a baseball wearing a red batter’s helmet. In its left hand was a fielder’s mitt and in his right a wooden bat. All three had the exact same face, two dots for eyes, and a smile for a mouth that looked as if it were drawn with a pencil by a kindergartner.

All three of them jumped off the bed and landed on the floor gracefully, as if they had rehearsed it beforehand. The lights of the room dimmed, and spotlights shone on each of the creatures. Suddenly, music, the likes of which I had never heard before or since, began to play from all the walls of the room. The best way to describe it would be a techno remix of “A Day in the Life.” The trio performed an indescribably elaborate dance involving flipping, stretching, and general silliness. The red one materialized a trumpet out of nowhere and began to play a solo of a completely different song.

Finally, I could no long stand the foolishness, so I screamed louder than a crazed NeuBoyz fangirl, “Stop the music! Stop! Stop! Stop!” As if by command, the music finished, the lights brightened, and the creatures’ dance ended. It was only then that I realized that I was completely naked.

“Welcome to Groundwater Planet!” the trio chimed in unison. The red one stepped forward, “I’m Redman, but I’m actually a girl. These are my companions, Blueman and Baseballman. Surely you’re in need of refreshments. We have apple pie and some lovely, lovely grape juice. Would you like some? Of course you would. Of course…” She was talking faster than a Chicago politician.

“Don’t talk him to death,” Blueman said. “What’s your name, first of all? Where do you come from?”

At last, I could speak freely. “My name is Daedalus.” My mother must be loving the irony of my situation right now. “I’m from the Galactic Oceanography Agency, Chicago chapter.” I paused for a moment as they stared back at me with those silly grins. “Can you please get me some clothes?”

Blueman’s permanent smile seemed to grow wider and more sinister in the few seconds before he snapped his fingers. There was a flash of light, and suddenly, I was teleported to a room that looked like a kitchen. The floor was black and white tile, and all the appliances seemed to match the theme. I was sitting at a black and white checkered table, and as I glanced at the mirror in the seat across from me, I nearly fainted again. Black stockings. White apron. White hair band. Black dress. I almost died of shock.

Set before me was a plate with a slice of apple pie topped with whipped cream and an empty glass. Noticing my hunger for the first time since arriving on this strange planet, I ravenously devoured the apple pie with my bare hands. The dough was so dry that every molecule of saliva in my mouth was absorbed into the crust. Baseballman came to the table with a pitcher full of a purple liquid in his mitt. He poured it in the empty glass and walked away without a word. With no time to rationalize, I gulped the mysterious liquid down.

And I was changed forever.

The liquid certainly tasted like grape juice, but I was almost certain that it was not. My black and white surroundings became mysteriously colored; I began seeing circles similar to those rainbows found in puddles of oil. I felt good, not like a drunken high, but similar to experiencing a piece of art that restores one’s faith in the human race. It would have been perfect if I were not so disoriented that I fell out of the chair. Hitting the floor did not hurt; it did not feel like anything. I heard voices, echoes from the conversations of life overlapping and speaking a language I no longer understood. Then everything went dark and I began to shiver. My cheeks were wet with sweat.

Three figures emerged out of the darkness, a red blob, a blue blob, and a white blob. They were talking to each other in the language I no longer understood, babbling to each other and shaking their heads. Finally, the red one turned to me and said, “Take my hand, please.” I then realized that she was speaking to me in ancient Greek.

With little choice, I took her white-gloved hand and was pulled, guided through the darkness. The trio began speaking in that language again, the modern language. Occasionally I would see flashes of rainbow—not any one color, but a ring of a rainbow. I have no better way to describe it. When these flashes occurred, I would begin to lose consciousness until Baseballman hit me over the head with his bat. The strike did not hurt (nothing did), but it kept me awake.

After wandering for what seemed like an eternity, a fresh feeling fell on me. We were outside the boathouse, and it was raining as usual. I could feel the silk of my dress pressing to my skin. The rain was nearly boiling hot, but it did not feel uncomfortable. Gradually, my surroundings became clearer to me: the white sail, the rough waves, the rain in both directions. The trio was sitting in the middle of the boat holding hands and chanting in a different language I did not understand, neither ancient nor modern, but totally foreign. After a minute of chanting, they broke the circle and the red one said, “Please watch. I hope you’ve had fun here.”

She materialized her trumpet again and began to play a swan song, a song with which I was familiar, an old childhood lullaby. Blueman somehow materialized a string bass and played the same low, meditative note. Baseballman waved his club over the ocean and surprisingly, the rain, which was supposed to be perpetual, stopped. A ring of green water pulsated from the bottom of the boat in sync with Blueman’s low strums. In the distance, lightning of every color struck the surface, as if responding to Redman’s song. The chorus of sights and sounds permeated my soul, and my already strong feeling of elation became enhanced. I felt one with the music, one with the ocean for the first time. Unfortunately, it all had to come to an end when the song ended, and the trio pushed me off the boat. I lost touch with reality in the water.

I woke up in my superior’s office wearing a maid’s dress. As I babbled in ancient Greek, he called security and brought me to my quarters. Thus ended the curious incident regarding Groundwater Planet.

If you are looking for a moral to this story, you will not find one. If you are looking for symbolism, you will be equally disappointed. All I inscribe on these pages is the truth, nothing more, nothing less.

Translated from ancient Greek, December 21, 2412



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/19/2010 1:27:59)

Mary Anne
by Dragonnightwolf

A mysterious voice floated upon the ocean waves during a dark and stormy night. The ship, known only as the Mary Anne, had been caught in the grips of a possible capsizing with all 180 of her crew aboard, sailors climbing, moving and battling the raging waters as the ocean threatened to engulf one and all. The mysterious voice could be heard saying these very chilling words indeed:

“This is a warning to all living mortals: whosoever opens the chest of Orix shall be forever... cursed.”

The ship rocked in the waters, dipped and a sailor went flying over the side with a scream of surprise and terror, entering the murky waters to say hello to Davey Jones. A mysterious ship could be seen twenty miles off the starboard side.

“Ahoy! Ship off Starboard!” yelled down the crow’s nest watcher, Jim McGunn.

“Cap’n, can you see it?” asked first mate Rogers.

The captain, known as Wess Hissle, gazed out with his telescopic lens. Indeed, there was a ship. Just about the oddest ship Wess had ever seen in his life. For this ship had no crew and nobody to steer it so far as Wess could see. “Ever since we brought that treasure chest on board strange things have happened: first that storm and now this. I can’t see a single soul aboard that vessel.”

He scanned the ship's exterior as his men ran frantically here and there, tending Mary Anne. The mysterious ship had some faded lettering on the side. Wess squinted his eyes, trying to gain some distance. “The writing on the side of that ship says The Nesselton,” he said, gazing over at Rogers.

“What? But that’s impossible, sir; The Nesselton went down more than 50 years ago,” Rogers replied, now looking pale.

The crew suddenly heard some odd singing floating through the air. Captain Hissle listened closely to it, drawn by the melody as if in a luring lull of sleep.

* * * * *


“Are you sure you should open it, Master Robin?” asked old Tom, holding a stirring spoon in his left hand, still covered in the gravy from the last meal he cooked.

“Well, why not? Cap’n said to guard it. He didn’t say I couldn’t look inside to see what valuables we’re guarding,” Robin argued, gazing at the treasure chest. He absentmindedly swept his brown hair from his face, revealing blue eyes fixated on the chest. Robin reached over and lifted the lid. Inside was a very beautiful shining green emerald.

“Oh my, it’s more amazing than I ever imagined,” Robin said, gazing longingly at the jewel. As he reached out to it, the glow became brighter. Clutching the emerald, Robin suddenly reeled in fright.

“Oh no! Tom! I... I can’t let go. Tom, help me!” Robin cried worriedly.

Tom placed his hand on top of Robin's and cried out. Robin let out an awful cry of fright as Tom’s flesh disappeared and the bones clattered to the floor.

Robin stared at his hand. It was changing.

* * * * *


Captain Hissle dove off the ship, drawn to the strange song he heard, but the froth and the waves carried the captain into the shallows of the sea where he soon disappeared among the seaweed and rocks. First mate Rogers let out a cry of shock, then let loose an unusual sailor's curse when the door to the deck below suddenly exploded outwards in a shower of wood and metal. Rogers could see an eerie green glow emanating from the stairs.

“What in the name of holy high heavens is that?” Rogers asked in amazement.

For coming up the stairs was this green-skinned, bulging-eyed creature with fins and gills. The creature let out a terrible, wailing moan. The creature lurched forward on monstrous large legs and dove into the water. The body made a loud kersplash and Rogers turned to the stern just as a waterspout rose up out of the water to claim them all.



Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of Tides (8/19/2010 1:30:45)

Fish Out of Water
by Clyde

The ocean pulled you here
not too long ago.
Left you on the shore,
your skin as white as snow.

You cried for so long
and it fell like the rain.
As you screamed through the night,
I could feel your pain.

I don't know what you've been told,
but I've been holding my tongue.
And we kept our promises,
but you're still far too young.

With plans to take the world,
you just weren't ready.
So you sat by the water,
dying to be set free.

When the storm came through
and was taken by the ocean.
The first smile ever on your face,
with such beautiful emotion.

You waited for the moment,
when the tides would rise
and take us far away.
I could feel it in your eyes,
you waited for this day.

I led you back,
straight to the water.
Watched you grow
and quickly follow after...
your dreams.



Page: [1] 2   next >   >>

Valid CSS!




Forum Software © ASPPlayground.NET Advanced Edition
0.4208984