“That’s as far as the ship goes. All’s ashore that’s going ashore!” Captain Grildek shouted, the seaman moving easily with the shifting ship under their feet. The Nereid’s Wink had been Sigmar’s world for the last few weeks, a fragile abode of wood and cloth, floating on emerald tropical waters. It had been a pleasant voyage, untroubled by storms or sea monster, merely simple sailing from one Shackle Isle to another. Sigmar had a feeling he might miss it, as their destination loomed large ahead, less than half a mile from the ship.
It had first been a dark shape on the horizon, little more than a black line. Over the past day it had grown however, slowly resolving into a large island whose shores curved well out of sight into the misty realms of the unknown. Green blobs became verdant forests, brown specks revealed earthen hills and yellow streaks turned into broad, sandy beaches. Raptor Island.
The crew of the Wink had, over the past few weeks, done their best to terrify their passengers with stories of the island. Ravenous beasts, wild storms and gangs of hardened criminals roaming the landscape. A place where death came speedily and without warning in a hundred forms. It was hard to take such tales seriously however, when faced with a seeming tropical paradise. It was, to Sigmar’s somewhat untrained eyes, the idyllic ideal of a pleasant island. There were no signs of human habitation, not a shack, a dock or road. Just green trees, wide beaches and floating clouds above.
How bad could it be?
“This is as close as you can get?” A stern, cold voice said nearby. Sigmar glanced toward the formidable seeming speaker, Ismet Vrilu, the ‘Company woman’. The supposed leader of this little expedition, the tall human woman had the grace and demeanor of a toothache, with a reputation to match. She seemed to revel in renown, wearing long black clothes, embroidered with the company seal. Behind her was the ever present guardian cum servant, a squat wood golem, made of polished tropical wood that gleamed in the harsh sunlight. Silent and sure, the construct was constant as a shadow, and just as unsettling.
“Do you expect us to swim?” Vrilu added frostily, shifting her dark gaze from the island to the sea captain. Her dark cloak seemed unmoved by the tugging sea breeze.
Captain Grildek laughed, shaking his head, his small punch jiggling with the motion. Clearly the Shackles man was not intimidated by Vrilu, at least not here on the open sea, on the deck of his own ship. “No, but there are reefs and rocks ‘head. This far and no further, unless you want us all to swim. Your company has paid for the longboat. Have the machine row, it’s not far.” Grildek waves a hand at one of the ship’s smaller whaleboats, lashed to the gunwale.
“Yes, have the machine row. Not me!” Said a new voice, bright spring tones to Vrilu’s winter grumble. Sigmar turned to see the third member of his group (if one did not count the golem), appear on deck. Oyok Tchorru, master of wilderness and expert tracker. Or so the tengu claimed, at least. His words had convinced the Company anyway, and the flamboyant birdman looked the part. Belts and sashes hung from every part of his body, laden with all manner of gear. Ropes, traps, leather bundles, all of it hung at improbable angles from Tchorro’s lean frame. It seemed as if it would all fall any moment, but the tracker moved easily despite it, whistling as he approached the rail near Sigmar.
He took a long look at the island, over the sparkling waves. His dark eyes gleamed like a pair of wet rocks, feather flicking in the breeze. “Not every day I see a new land! A thing to be celebrated. Still, it does not look too formidable. Might it turn into a disappointment?”
Around them the sailors bustled doing…whatever sailors did. Battening the mizzenmast or some such. Despite this trip, Sigmar still only had the vaguest grasp of such nautical matters, but the men always seemed busy climbing up masts, coiling rope and slathering tar onto planks. Strange way to make a living. Still, the crew had got them to the island safely, and that counted for a great deal.
Sigmar had needed to get here safely for his chance at glory, of course.
“Do you expect us to swim?”
It wasn't the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last. But this didn't lessen the sting for stern Vrilu as her severity was undercut by the company’s newest contractor with impeccable timing, an almighty splash punctuating her query and turning it from whip into wit.
*SPLASH*
“Wooo!” whooped the teen upon resurfacing, his grin brighter than the twinkling water. ”Finally! Oi, Oyo!” he called back up to the tengu still standing by the railing he’d just somersaulted from. ”I’m giving you one minute to get your feathered butt down here before I leave you and Ms Pouty behind! C’mon in, water’s great! Let’s go!”
Finally. Finally! The young man had been watching the sea for weeks now, waiting for this rock to lumber over the horizon, and every day he’d felt more and more like a jack-in-the-box, his spring wound tighter with every aimless sunset. Waiting did not come naturally to creatures like Sigmar Darastrix. Like songbirds or tigers, to cage them was a contradiction; the songbird behind bars would not sing just as a tiger confined could not hunt. Captivity then, could only hold the beast, not the soul. Even under open skies, the Nereid’s Wink had felt like a floating casket to Sigmar.
But then, finally, it had crept into sight: Raptor Island. Not a moment too soon. He hadn’t slept well the past few nights, heart pounding, instinct roaring for adversaries and glory. Dragon blood had its demands. An island full of megalithic reptiles would suffice. Sigmar punched the ocean surface like a toddler in his tub, just to feel the impact in his fist. Even in the water, he felt his skin thrumming.
“Not every day I see a new land! A thing to be celebrated. Still, it does not look too formidable. Might it turn into a disappointment?”
"Don't you dare jinx this for me!" the teen yelled back, the sailors' superstitions regarding tengu having rubbed off on him.
The water was so warm it felt like bathwater...or blood. Bright and clear, it rippled around Sigmar creating a thousand shifting mirrors, each only existing for a moment. Near him the hull of the ship loomed up like a wooden cliff, making his jibe to Oyok echo strangely, as if he was shouting down a wet tunnel.
Above the tengu laughed, and shouted back "I'm no duck! I'll take the boat lad, as should we all." Farther down the rail Ismet Vrilu gives a look so cold, the monk is surprised the water around him doesn't freeze to ice. Ah well. So could learn to lighten up.
Sigmar glanced down and saw seaweed clinging to the underside of the Wink, green tendrils trailing off into the water. Around it tiny fish darted, flashes of bright colors amid the plants. It put him in mind of the tropical birds ashore, flitting among mangrove trees. It was all so...alive. And he felt alive too, bursting to the skin. Instead of cooling him off, the sea had seemed to fire him up.
He looked past the ship into the depths beyond, searching for larger shapes. the sailors said sharks often followed ships for many miles, hoping for garbage and other detritus. He half-hoped to spot one now. What could be a better challenge then the toothy monsters of the deep?
Alas, by fate or chance no sharks appeared. Instead Sigmar merely treaded water as the longboat was loaded and then lowered into the water with a heavy splash. As expected Vrilu's golem took the oars, silently bending to the task. After a few farewells to the crew, the little boat began to make way.
Oyok sat in the stern, turned toward Sigmar with a whistle, "Come on lad, into the boat. Swimming half a mile will just tire you out." The tengu freezes though when Vrilu's voice slices through.
"No, let him remain in the water a moment." The tall woman leans over the side, casting a shadow right onto Sigmar. The water suddenly feels less warm.
"I would ask you to listen, boy, but I doubt you have the ability. So at least remain quiet." The Company woman says tersely, eyes flinty, "This is a delicate mission, one is which my own personal record is at stake. I will not abide foolish gallivanting or stupid antics. You will follow orders or I will make the rest of your life so miserable, even your mud-filled mind will tire of it. I am in charge, and you are here as an mere employee. If you do not agree, or do not understand, simply stay in the water and feed the fish. See if I care. I have no tolerance or need for fools."
With that she sits back into the boat and gives her golem a nod, adding, "Let's get this boat moving, we don't have all day." With a audible creak, the construct bent to the oars.
"I'm no duck! I'll take the boat lad, as should we all."
"No, you're a chicken is what you are!" came the reply. The smile with which it was delivered could be heard over the lapping waves, only to sour. "Fine. Hurry up then! Don't have me turn as wrinkly as Vrilu's frown!"
Said Vrilu just managed to catch a cheeky glint of pearly white before the youth dove beneath the water. There he amused himself while the crew prepared their longboat, swimming laps along the ship's length, chasing tropical fish, and every now and then climbing the hull halfway up before leaping back into the welcoming waters, just to practice his diving. He sounded like an entire village of children down by the mill pond at the height of summer.
Only the more perceptive among the crew thought to wonder how exactly the teen was scaling the algae-slick hull.
Not that any capable sailor would stop to speculate such a matter when there was work to be done. And their practiced hands saw this work complete when the longboat settled into the water. Foregoing any goodbyes with the crew altogether, Sigmar butterflyed his way to the vessel immediately. "Finally!" he said in gripping the railing.
Vrilu's shadow falling upon him impeded any further progress as surely as were it a solid wall.
"Whoa, slow down, lady!" he laughed, a gesture anyone but Sigmar could have recognized as not likely to mollify the woman. At the very least he had let her finish her lecture. "Don't worry about it!" The teen didn't take offence. His confidence was too great for words to erode it. Besides, he'd heard worse.
"We'll find your..." The smooth features scrunched in thought. "... Dwarf? It was a dwarf, right? Listen, just put some trust in this company you want to impress, yeah? They didn't just pull me off the street to... Well, they actually kinda did, I guess, but point is I was brought on 'cause I get results. Even if I did agree to this mostly for the novelty." Like a solar corona peeking through an eclipse, his pearly grin twinkled even under the taller woman's looming shadow. "And hey, if nothing else, me only being here for the experience means you won't have to suffer me for long. I'm no 'company man'. After this, I'm out."
Sigmar reached up with his other hand, open for Vrilu to grasp. The wet palm looked surprisingly soft.
"Whaddaya say? Can we try to make this work? Boss?" he added.
Nothing in the youth's boyish face revealed this as anything other than a gesture of conciliation. And why should it? After all, Sigmar hadn't decided whether he was going to pull the bullish woman into the drink with him as soon as she took the proffered hand.
When Sigmar half forgets the mission, Vrilu closes her eyes in an obscure sort of pain. A tiny sigh of distress might have been audible, but the monk isn't quite sure. it's hard to hear over the sloshing water. When Sigmar finishes talking, the imposing woman turns to Oyok, ignoring the proffered hand, like one might ignore a rotten fish at a market.
"Master tracker," She says to the tengu, who seems to merely be enjoying the exchange, "I pass him into your keeping. One bit of wisdom among the dross is true. The sooner begun, the sooner ended. Let us make way."
With that Sigmar is hauled into the boat by Oyok. The wooden golem is between them and Vrilu, a situation that does not seem to have been entirely accidental. The woman turns away from them and faces their destination, perhaps contemplating a different turn of events. One without Sigmar.
In the stern, Oyok passes the time by telling Sigmar what little he knew of the island. The thick forests, the history of marooned castaways and the famed savage beasts that lived here. Sigmar didn't pay much attention, instead looking around at the scenery, impatient. Did all boats row so slowly? You'd think a mindless hunk of wood would have a better turn of speed.
Looking down, the monk could see why Grildek didn't bring them any closer though. The glass-like water was shallow here, and Sigmar could easily see the sandy bottom, dotted with shells and various crawling creatures. Here and there rocks poked through the seafloor, coated with barnacles. Some of these rose above the surface, creating jagged pinnacles that the water played against, creating tiny whirlpools and eddies.
Sigmar wonders what this must look like when a true gale blows in, whipping these shallows into a frothing frenzy. Now that would be a proper entrance, riding a storm among cresting waves and sharp stones. Maybe on the way out they'd be so lucky.
Finally, finally they reach the shore, the golem driving the longboat onto the sandy beach. Sigmar is the first out of course, jumping into the water when it was still knee deep. Everyone else waits for a drier exit but soon everyone is on the shore, the baggage unloaded by the golem.
The beach is broad and flat, made of pale yellow sand that warms Sigmar through his boots. Ahead lies a heavy forest of tropical trees, green as a painter's brush. A hundred yards to the left a goodly sized river leaves the trees and empties into the shallows, creating a small delta with dozens of small gulls hovering over it.
Oyok takes this all in with a practiced eye before shrugging, "Another island, eh lad? I've seen worse."
Vrilu seems to look through the idyllic scenery, like a miner sizing up a likely mountain for a quarry. She does a full circle before saying, "How shall we proceed Master Tracker?"
"The river, I imagine. Stands to reason anyone here lives farther inland." Oyok says, "I wonder if the longboat might actually take us up? Depends how deep the water is, I guess."