Saturday 1 November 2014

Sea-sailing is a pleasurable past time and nothing bad ever happens

You finally managed to convince the fighter to get on the damn boat – it’s fastest way to get to Yanzia, and it’s known for being safe from pirates. You hear shouting from the sailors, and the fighter goes deathly white. You run over to the edge, and see …


The ponderous form of whale. You start to notice something off about it when the sheer hate rolls over you, driving you to your knees. The whale hates you. The whale wants you to drown. The whale is dead. You hear its harrowing whale-song bouncing endlessly in your head.
A great obsidian spire to the port side, thrusting outwards from the waves into the air. It is spotless, and seems to drink the light around it. You see the water is impossibly still around it. There is a distinct mineral smell in the air.
A huge basalt platform just above sea level directly ahead. There is an opening in the middle of it, and you can just see the start of steps leading down.
A bird rivalling the size of great merchant ships appears to be flying below the boat. The plumage is in the colours of the ocean. The wind has stopped entirely. It is slowly circling to gain height.
The shouting sailor throws himself into the water, and is dragged down by cruel clawed hands made of the water itself. You see sharp salt crystals forming around the body as it is dragged down, down, down.
A huge swarm of birds, quite distant but incredibly dense – you can barely see sky between them. They’re moving your way, fast.
There appears to be some golden liquid suspended in the water, leading away to the horizon. You swear you keep catching flashes of light from that point. You feel slightly queasy.
A single tentacle as wide about as a good horse is slowly winding its up from the depths. You can’t see where it starts, but you do see the hooks and barbs like swords coating the entire thing. It’s going to reach the surface in about two minutes.

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