The Rough Voyage

[Uleru]

The 2nd day of Winter
Year 513
12th Bell


When Uleru left Riverfall she wasn't even aware of it until she was four days away from the city. It wasn't a conscious decision, not really. she just wandered further and further away, pulled by interesting things and playmates and the occasional duty of her god. Only to pop above the surface for the first time in days to notice that the scenery has changed.

And besides, if this had been a conscious decision, she would have known not to wander away from the only protected cove for miles during storm season.

Rain lashes and waves rise as Zulrav and Laviku battle it out, to the detriment of everything between them. Every porpoise and half-wit seagull has made for shore bells ago, seeing the pulsing mass of pregnant clouds coming from a mile away. But one figure has stayed behind, an Otani figuring that she'd rather take her chances with the waves than brave the deeper currents. A decision she finds herself rethinking as she is tossed about like the bath toy of malicious child.

The fair wind does battle with itself across the surface, kicking up impressive white-capped waves and a shreiking howl that Uleru can feel vibrate through her body like she has both hands on a tuning fork. The sea, not to be outdone, stirs its waters with heavy currents; the deepening grey colour of the sky reflected in its churning surface. The Otani is tossed from wave to wave, blinded by the bubbling foam and roaring in frustration as she tries to figure out which way is up, much less which way is north.

It's not dangerous, not really. She can survive just about everything the sea can throw at her. But it feels dangerous. Much like a prayer she has learned to respect what Laviku can throw out and has meditated on his awesome power. She is small, she cant fight it, and there is nothing she can do about it. It's the ultimate tribute for the most powerful god.

But she is tired, her arms are moving more and more slowly and her breathing is getting more and more laboured. She cant move to deeper water without getting spat back out and she cant swim for shore without being dragged back in. And she knows -just knows- that as soon as she stops swimming she's going to be dashed against some yet unseen craggily finger of rock or shallow coral. Yet she cant keep this up forever.

A rouge wave pitches up, threatening to crash down over her, and the monster has the presence of mind to drag herself over the cap before it can have the chance. But she was paying more attention to the possibility of being crushed by the oncoming wave to be overly concerned as to what might be on the other side. The Otani catches a fleeting glance of a wooden mast and a painted hull before she is sliding, screaming, down the back of the wave.

She hits the mysterious hull with a sound like a waterballon colliding with the side of a house before the current drags her beneath it, giving her an intimate view of every jagged piece of barnacle as they try to sand off her face. Only then to be shot out from underneath the small casinor like she has been launched by a trebuchet.

Another wave then catches her in its fold, and the Otani only has time to shriek "OH NO YOU DON-" before it carries her forward, back to the ship. The wave breaks against the hull, and the Otani is washed aboard with a spray of water, and proceeds to slide across the deck on her back and collide bodily with the mast.

[Drael]

The 89th Day of Autuam
Year 513
14th Bell

A slight shift in temperature, and the presence of a decidedly inland aura, caused Drael to open his eyes. There was a rather portly figure looming over him, the details of which were lost in the glaring halo of bright light engulfing it from behind it.

"Hey, you're blocking my sun," Dael grumbled moodily. The warm autumn rays remaining that year were a precious few and he wanted to soak in all he could.

"You... you're a Svefra?"

"What of it?"

"I need to get Syliras immediately. I can't get any of you people to give me a lift."

"Maybe, that's because there's a storm coming in few days," Drael said. He hadn't really thought about it until just then but the crosswinds of late both hot and cold, had been painting a very clear picture of the escalating tensions between the Gods. It was due to come to a head sooner rather than later. "It's coming quick. You're not likely to beat it. You'll just have to wait."

"It can't wait. It's very important that I get to Slyras by the fourth of winter. I'll give you one hundred gold Miras if you can beat the storm."

At that Drael climbed to his feet, brushed off sand from various parts of his body, and started off across beach towards the casinor anchored just off shore. "Come on then, no time to waste."

He knew attempting to beat the storm was ambitious but in the worst case scenario he figured he might get a little wet. He'd helped his a couple pods sail through just about every weather phenomena imaginable at one time or another. How bad could it be?

----

The 2nd day of Winter
Year 513
12th Bell

"Head to wind, damnit!" Drael shouted at the top of his lungs over the constant roar of the sea, rumble of thunder, and the periodic crash of wave against wood. Wind and waves were battering the poor little casinor relentlessly from the port side, tossing her this way and that. If only she were facing the storm head on, she would have a chance. "Head. To. WIND!!!"

He was holding on for dear life, half way up the mast. The entire ship was tilting and creaking under the force of the full sail, threatening to fall apart or capsize. Waves smashed furiously against his back, crushing him into the large wooden pole. His hands were numb from the cold, every muscle he had was sore, and it was all he could do to keep his grips on the metal climbing posts jutting out of the mast; they were all that were keeping him from being reclaimed by the sea.

Wellsworth, the inlander who he was transporting, was uselessly clinging on to the helm-post, not even attempting to follow Drael's desperate instructions.

The topmost rung that held in place the rope used to raise and lower the mainsail had loosened during the storm. When Drael had tried to lower the sail minutes ago, the rung spun, the rope became wrapped and knotted around it, and the entire mechanism jammed. If he didn't get the sail down and reefed within the hour he knew his chances of coming out of the storm alive weren't good. The worst of it was still to come.

"Laviku," he pleaded through gritted teeth as he hauled himself up one post higher. He squinted against the wind, the rain, and a blinding flash of lighting, as he eyed the knotted tangle looming frustratingly out of reach.

Just then he felt something. It was the most beautiful, vivid, aura he had ever sensed. Suddenly the loose rung and the smashing waves began to loose his attention. He looked down at what had washed up on his deck. There was a vaguely human form somewhere in the water ebbing across the base of the mast. It moved slowly, laboriously, as if it was tired.

"Hey," Drael yelled down to the Otani until it got her attention. "Head to wind, please!" There was no way she could have heard him over the roar of the storm but he pointed towards the helm. Hopefully she knew what he needed.

[Uleru]

Crumpled gracelessly on her back against a sturdy wooden pole, for a second Uleru has an unobstructed view of the churning, boiling sky above her. Somehow perfectly mirroring the churning, boiling sea below her. Suddenly there is a man, a young man, blocking her vision. She felt him before she saw him, since his gnosis is beating in the air between them like a physical thing. His eyes are the pure, beautiful blue that the sea should be. She finds herself meditating on this as ripples slowly flare across her body- her way of making sure she has a coherent shape. The last thing she needs is to be flopping around with uncoordinated additional limbs. Or worse, to be missing something important; like a head.  
 
The man with the blue eyes, he's shouting at her, but she cant hear him. He motions towards the back of the ship and towards the waves. What's he getting at? Why, oh way, do people assume that just because she lives on the sea that she can sail? The one and only lesson she ever received to that end was a thrilling and terrifying ride that ended abruptly before she could end up wrecking anything.
 
Still, she has to try something. The ship she is resting upon pitches and dives the wrong way, the sea's icy fingers dragging across the hull and over the deck, trying to claim the craft for itself. The marked son of Laviku doesn't have the same invulnerability to the ocean as she does, he is truly in trouble.  
 
The Otani clambers to her knees and slides, drags and rolls her way to the back of the small ship. There is another man in the way. His skin hasn't been touched by the sea kings hand, so she wasn't aware of him before. He is a sickly combination of terrified white and shivering blue, clutching the helm like a talisman. His eyes look like they are ready to bug out of his head when he sees the monster, who regards him cooly. When he doesn't get out of her way immediately her lips split into a warning hiss. Causing him to yip like a startled cat and fall off the post with a fleshy thud.
 
Thus freed from the ineffective land-dweller, she quickly takes the helm, twisting it into the oncoming waves the same way she would were she still swimming.
 
When the ship doesn't respond right away, however, the Otani keeps spinning the wheel, expecting it to be finicky or unresponsive. Then with creaking timbers and a groaning hull, the rudder suddenly catches, swinging the ship broadside in a wide arc thanks to her overcompensated turning.  
 
The moulding shrieks with the sudden change of direction and loses her footing, landing directly on top of the prone landweller. Shyke! Shyke! This is why you don't ask the monster to drive! Clambering over top of the man below her, the moulding does the only thing she can think to do. With the railing deep in her gut she throws her arms out, casting a wide, shallow spray of pearly white res from her body. Then with a mental strain and a loud vocalization she taps her Reimancy and pulls the water towards the res. Being countered so suddenly by the shallow quasi-current the ship comes to a shuddering halt in its wild turn, the helm whizzing behind her as the rudder straightens out to head them directly into the wind.
 

[Drael]

He had climbed only 15 or so feet but already the deck below was quickly fading from his vision. A veil of darkness, rain, and mist enveloped everything beneath and above him. It was as if the sea was hungry and was hell bent on swallowing him whole. The mast -- his only possible indicator of which way was up -- trailed off and vanished into the abyss in both directions. He could no longer see the Otani but he could sense her, and he was fairly certain she was moving towards the helm.

He hauled himself up one post at a time until he was finally able to grasp the knot of rope entangled around the top rung. One of the nails that held it in place had come free, causing this disaster. He tried to turn the rung and unravel the tangle but the sail was exerting far too much force on it. It was impossible. He hugged the mast tightly with his legs and his left arm -- his fingers gripping the top surface of it -- and with his right he drew his knife from his belt. He prepared to do what he had to if the ship didn't, by some miracle, correct herself within the next few moments.

Suddenly the entire ship jerked and he was almost flung off the mast. He had to drop the knife and grab on to the outhaul line just to stray put. He cursed under his breath as he watched his only tool quickly vanish into the void. Another jerk, just as sudden, again almost threw him to his death. He had just barely managed to hang on. The wind and the waves were no longer pressing against his back, smashing him into the mast, now they came from his side, trying to rip him away from it. On a positive note, the mainsail fluttered loudly rustling this way and that, no longer holding the wind. Relieved of the enormous lateral pressure, the ship swung upright. Drael hadn't realized just how tilted they had gotten until just then.

He quickly started on fixing the mess. He yanked on the line and twisted at the rung but to no avail. He had to peel his seal skin gloves from his hands with his teeth, and sacrifice them as well to the void, favoring his bare palms for better traction. His hands were blistered and bleeding by time he finished... no matter, it had been a dozen chimes since the he had felt any sensation in them. Once the tangle was undone the sail dropped.

He started making his way down the mast. He was anxious to thank the daughter of Laviku that had graciously come to save him from a fate that, truth be told, he had brought apon himself. When his boots finally met solid wood he heaved the deepest sigh of relief. The ship still tossed violently on enormous waves, bobbing this way and that, but she would hold.

Despite the turbulence, his gait was steady, balance almost effortless as he made way back towards the helm. She came into view again: a woman what looked like the depths of the sea had gotten curious about what it was like to be human and taken form... not knowing that to be human was to be flawed. He watched her form ripple and flow for a moment, mesmerized by her fluidity.

"Laviku has always provided for me in times of need," he shouted to the Otani, over the storm. "but I don't think he's ever sent me a more wonderful gift." He turned his head for a moment, hiding his face from a freezing burst of ocean spray, and then turned back to face her. "Thank you."

He crossed his arms to guard against the cold. He tried not to shake or shiver, or let his breath shutter. He didn't want to come across as how he felt: a helpless otter that had gotten in over his head.

[Uleru]

As the ship straightens out Uleru gets back to her feet, propping herself up with one hand on the railing and the other on the land-dweller for balance. Miraculously, the ship doesn't seem to be trying to enthusiastically drown itself anymore. Whatever the blue-eyed man is doing fiddling around on the mast is working, and the ship rides the swells relatively unmolested. But still the moulding slides her way to the helm and grips the wheel tightly, expecting it at any moment to start spinning erratically again.

But standing behind the helm, thoughts of their predicament fade, if only for a moment, as she looks out onto the water and realizes she's never seen a storm from this angle before. She's seen them from below, and watched as towering cathedrals of waves crash and shatter into great bubbling chandeliers. She's seen them from the surface of the water, giving herself over completely to Laviku's whims. But never has she been above it. Even from a ship deck, where she has a solid wooden barrier between the ocean and herself. It feels like she's walking across two great chasms between two great gods as the deep ocean and the endless sky battle it out...

The Otani's pupiless eyes flick to the blue-eyed man as he makes his way effortlessly towards her. Like he's somehow floating above the pitching deck and heavy sprays of water, while it's all she can do to remain upright. Though even the short break from her frantic swim has her regaining energy fast. The confident gait might be an act though, the poor man looks much worse for wear. Pink drops of diluted blood drip from his hands and his eyelids are blue with cold.

"Laviku has always provided for me in times of need, but I don't think he's ever sent me a more wonderful gift. Thank you."

"That would be a great name for a ship 'The Provider'", the moulding says thoughtfully, eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance and hips rocking with the swells as she gets used to the storm. "And who's to say you aren't Laviku's gift to me? Yes! Yes indeed, that's what you are: my precious gift."

She leans towards him and gives the man a quick kiss, smiling like a child. But no matter her joviality she knows they are still in trouble. She could possibly find them a cave or bay to shelter them, but she cant see a thing! She brings a hand in front of her face and scowls at it, her phosphorescence has yet to start it's glow, though that still wouldn't be enough. What they need is a-

"There!" the Otani barks suddenly, her shimmering finger outstretched and pointing towards the shore. Where a beacon of light can be seen competing against the lightning to be the brightest thing in the storm. "I think- I think thats Mirror Watchtower. We can take shelter there."