May Leth Smile on the West (Creeper Quest/Closed)

[Creeper]

Timestamp: Summer 32nd, 512 AV Time: Sunrise Location: The West Coast Near Spires Who: Shadowfang, Alea Davenport, Talia Iceglaze Leif Coolwater looked over the prow of his ship as his people returned from the devastated city of The Spires. It had been a long journey, only to wind up on this shore by sheer chance. When his crew landed, they were greeted by Avanthal's only other neighbor, the Jamoura. He gave his people leave to rest, resupply, and recruit for three days. But now it was time to depart, and find what fate befell Denval. He looked over at the other ship, glad to see they had survived that blasted storm that forced them into this bay. They would need both ships, who knows what could happen out there, ever since that Storm a season ago. The gods must've been angry, for Avanthal was nearly crumbled beneath their fury. But that seemed like a reprieve compared to the plight of the Jamoura. Their city was lost to foul magic and animal instincts it seemed. He wished them the best of luck in retaking what was theirs. He looked down at the people walking up the gangplank, a few faces had traveled with him, and a few were new recruits from their neighbor. His first mate, Kreuger Coolwater, was taking roster as they boarded. "Name? City of residence? Prominent skills?" They wouldn't turn away any, since they didn't know what they would find, they needed to be prepared for anything. His ship was outfitted for war, with several ballistae on each side of the boat, as well as high rails for hiding behind and firing arrows. Their ship had been fully restocked for two seasons of travel, just in case. There were several cramped decks below for people to store their gear or rest on the shelves that passed as beds. After everyone was boarded, a loud drum began to beat, and there was a lurch. For those above deck, they'd see a handful of Jamoura pushing the ship off of the cold beach, and into the surf. It only took four of them to push the massive boat, a testament to their strength, for the captain had originally thought they'd have to wait several bells for the tide to rise. The Jamoura would be powerful allies, he hoped this would bring their cities closer together. He sat at the helm as the oarsman below deck brought the ship away from the coast. He was in a particularly good mood, and they had several days to reach their destination, directing his voice to all those who had arrived, "Tell me of your stay in the city, we need something cheerful to lighten the mood, as we sail to check the fate of our fellow ally in the north."

[Alea Davenport]

Alea walked up the gangplank looking around at the people she would be traveling with. She smiled briefly at Talia; they did not know each other well, but they had shared the boat here from Avanthal, and Alea was glad that there was one less complete stranger on this voyage. She also nodded to the Vantha, who she knew for the same reason. Finally, she glanced warily at the fuzzy creature with wings. She had never seen anything like it before, but those claws and teeth looked dangerous enough to cause serious trouble. Of course, if he tried anything, she wouldn't go down without causing some damage.

Kreuger already knew her, but she answered him for the benefit of the fuzzy one who hadn't met her yet. "Alea Davenport. Originally of Denval," she stated with pride, as the only native of their destination on this journey, "recently of Avanthal, and henceforth wherever I choose." All of her belongings were with her, she had not left anything behind in Avanthal. Her parents were there now, refugees from Denval, but she had been living alone long enough that she no longer considered home to be wherever they were. "I can fish, and I've been learning to care for animals." It did not occur to her to mention any meager fighting ability, since she had so far considered that more a hobby than a skill.

When all had boarded and the ship set sail, Alea felt the discomfort of travel grip her once again. It was not the rolling of the ship that made her nervous, so much as the sense of being cooped up. There was only so far you could go on a ship, and being here made her legs itch. She did not recall feeling quite this uncomfortable on her original voyage from Denval to Avanthal, which meant that this feeling was a recent development. Strange.

The captain called for stories of the Spires, and Alea instinctively looked to the rest of the group. Her eyes were particularly drawn toward the fuzzy one. She and Talia had only been there a few days, and they had not had time for adventures. But she wondered what stories this "Shadowfang" had of the Spires? She began to recall her old dreams of seeing the whole world; foolish, dangerous dreams they seemed now, but the towering trees which were home to the great Jamoura had often been the next stop in her elaborate, ever-changing travel plans.

[Shadowfang]

Shadowfang was the last to board the ship, walking a good distance behind the three humans and staring at the ground in front of his feet. In truth, he was very excited, almost excited enough to jump around in anticipation. From what he had heard, something had happened in a place called Denval and they needed a team of people to investigate. A new place to go, a new event to experience, new questions to ask and answer, he had almost jumped at the chance to join. But still, he walked with his usual dark, gloomy cloud hovering above his head. No one that he knew would be joining him. He was alone again. So he figured that the less he had to deal with strangers, the better. For the moment at least. He would have to get to know his new comrades soon if they were going to work as a team. 

He threw a glance at the man called Kreuger and spoke shortly. "Shadowfang. Spires. I can fight, I can... move silently, I can fly, and I can... find uses for... Voiding magic." He decided to leave out the fact that he was originally from Sunberth. He was already pushing his luck just by being here, let alone telling them that he could Void. It was happening all over again. Everyone was glancing at him, some distrustful, some curious, and he was sure at least one or two of them were looking at him with hate. He walked past everyone, eyes straight ahead, and sat down on the deck, leaning against the ship's huge mast and stared off to the side. If anyone needed him to do anything, they would need to ask him to and he would do it, otherwise he would sit in that one spot. 

He instantly began to feel uneasy when the boat left the shore and began to rock back and forth with the waves. He was not exactly seasick, though. If he were to fly, there would be only one place to land; right back on the ship. He did not like it. It almost felt like a floating prison. He spent a good while staring at the slowly receding shoreline in silence, isolating himself from everyone else, before looking back at the group and noticing one or two of them looking at him almost expectantly. Wait, a story of the Spires? Shadowfang could barely manage to speak Common when he had to, there would be no way he would be able to tell a story. He looked at his group; the big male and the two young girls. Surely they had a story. He let a frustrated sigh escape his lips. If he wanted people to stop looking at him he would have to oblige them. He turned his head to the side again to look out at the sea and began.

"Everything was... destroyed. The houses were broken and there was... fog everywhere. We were home in a... base camp. The fog made everyone in the city... into animals. We spent a long time... capturing and bringing them back to be... cured. A while ago people made the fog go away... and everything got fixed. Then he went silent again. It was as far as he would go in means of a story and they would just have to deal with it. He leaned his head against the mast and continued his blank gazing into the never ending sea.

[Talia Iceglaze]

Talia carefully walked up the gangplank after Alea, wondering how this could hold her weight and trying not to fall over into the water. She didn't know Alea but saw her every so often in Avanthal so she returns the smile. Her smile was a little too fake though.

"I am Talia Iceglaze of Avanthal. Blacksmith." She answers to Kreuger in a clear voice, showing none of her timid side.

Her eyes turn brown, she was honestly afraid to go but new that she must go. With a deep breath, she walks across the ship, trying to get a feel for it. She had never been on one before and her footing was....uncertain. "I'll just have to get used to it." She thought.

They were all asked for a story of the Spires, but she too was only there for a few days but as a Vantha, she could at least try. "The Spires...I had heard about them in my youth, enormous, ancient trees as far as the eye can see and home to the Jamoura. I never imagined the truth, the awe-inspiring city I saw and the hospitable people there. Other than that, I cannot say much."

[Creeper]

Moderator's NoteTalia, your PC has been on a boat before. You had to ride the boat from Avanthal to the Spires. You are simply reboarding the boat to depart again. The captain looked dismayed at his charges. Clearly none of them had a talent for storytelling, and surprisingly the Zith had the most interesting of the stories. How sad is it that two people that lived in Avanthal, no matter how long the stay, couldn't put together a proper tale? He shook his head, what was this devastated world coming to? Soon ice would be hot and the seas red. Somewhat annoyed, he decided to put them to work since they had soured his mood. He first turned to Alea, "Go below deck to the Head, you will find a bucket of cold water and a stiff bristle brush. I want you to clean that grate and the entire room until its clean enough to eat raw fish off of. And if any of the sailors decide to relieve themselves, you'll have to start over. Go before I throw you overboard, Denvali." When Alea arrived at the head, she would find it absolutely disgusting and horrifying. The stench of human waste and piss invaded her nostrils with such a force that she nearly passed out. How had it gotten so bad compared to the cleaner version when she'd sailed here? Even the cleaning bucket had questionable stains and substances upon it. The entire room would make even the oldest of Nuit squirm. Captain Leif looked over at Talia, the biggest disappointment of the three, for she was true Vantha. "Go down to the galley, and tell the cook you are to help clean today's catch. A few hundred pounds of Talderan Char oughta cook up a story in that thing between your ears." As Talia went below deck, heading toward where the meals were cooked, the smell of salt water and raw fish felt physical in the air. As she moved through the corridors, there were piles upon piles of freshly caught char, a massive fish the length of her leg. The cook saw her from within the galley, a large, fat, sweaty man. He seemed to know why she was there, for no one ever came to just visit. He pointed at the fish, then various knives he had. "I'll teach you how to clean one of these, and then you will do them all. And don't you dare ruin any of them, I have a lot of mouths to feed, so get to it girl, you want to be done before Syna rises tomorrow right?" The captain's eyes fell on the Zith, "At least you attempted to tell a tale worth hearing, so you will get to stretch those wings of yours. Grab a scrub bush and bucket from my first mate, and fly up to the arms there sticking out from the mast. The birds around these parts really did a number on them, petching shykebags with wings. And they are so much bigger around here! Anyways, enjoy Syna's rays while you have them, I suspect we will find some more storms on this journey." ~~~~~Later that evening~~~~~ The trio had managed to all get bunked together, each smelling of some foul substance or another. Sea legs in all of them didn't exist as the boat tossed and turned hard, once more sailing through a storm. Standing upright wasn't an option for any of them, and there was a community bucket for the weak of stomach. Alea, with her keen eyes and attention to detail, would notice several inches of water building up in their cabin, more so than any of the storms on the trip in. Shadowfang's finely tuned ears picked up worried shouts, and snippets of words, "...plug tha-... ...king on wat--... Sinki..." Talia heard a shout in frenzied Vani, "All hands below deck! Plug that hole! Save the supplies room!"

[Alea Davenport]

Eating raw fish is a bad idea, no matter how clean the floor is.

Upon hearing the various chores (punishments?) inflicted upon the group, Alea grinned triumphantly. She had gotten out of fish-gut duty! The one job she stubbornly despised above all others. Sure she had to clean the privy, but she was used to shoveling horse manure. It couldn't be all that much worse, could it?

Her good mood was short-lived. The head was unimaginable. The first she saw and smelled of it caused her to gag, and she had to run back out into fresher air and breathe deeply several times to avoid retching. What she wouldn't give for a handkerchief. She would have to make do with breathing through the cloth on the high neck of her shirt. With shallow breaths, she stepped back into the head to survey the damage.

She felt a quiet rage bubbling up in her at the sight. The whole voyage over, it had not been nearly this bad. What had the sailors been doing while they were docked that had made such a ridiculous mess? She couldn't help but wonder if this had been done on purpose somehow, just to spite her, though she couldn't imagine that the sailors could hate her enough to do THIS.

With a promise to herself to wash her hands later, she grabbed hold of the brush and bucket, mysterious stains be damned. She started by concentrating on where the mess was the worst, scraping the foul-smelling man-manure into the sea. Several times she had to step back out to breathe, but she felt she was making progress. When scraping the brush across the wood failed to move the piss-stench, she grimaced and scrubbed as hard as she could, pouring all her frustration and any muscles she'd gained from shoveling over the seasons into separating the mess from the floor and walls. Her arms and shoulders ached, but she was not ready to give up. Orders or no, she would not want anyone to suffer relieving themselves in a place as bad as this.

When she was about halfway finished, one of the sailors came in. The captain's warning of starting over rang clearly in her mind. "Hey!" she yelled. "Don't you dare make a mess. Do your business neatly and then leave!" He looked about to ignore her, so she brandished her piss-smelling brush and lunged at him with a wild, unintelligible yell of vengeance and fury. If he refused to heed her warnings and piss neatly through the slats in the head, she would attack him with the brush, scraping the bristles painfully across his face and any other part of him she could reach, heedless of any possible danger of attacking a man easily twice her size.

An uncomfortable number of bells later, after having scrubbed the floor spotless and stenchless, and driving away a number of would-be delays, she was finished, going so far as to stick her tongue on one of the boards, to prove they were sufficiently clean for eating. But before she could quell her growling stomach, there was still something she had to do. She went to the part of the boat where her Gilding was being kept. She could see him glowing in the dim light, with a dark patch where her cat was napping on his back. Care of the animals was the job of one of the other sailors, unless the captain said otherwise, but she still felt the need to check on them. Her cat tried to bite her hand when she went to pet him, and the horse casually leaned toward her, planting a hoof where her foot had been a tick before, all of which meant everything was just as it should be. Satisfied, she trudged wearily and hungrily toward the galley, unsurprised to see her cat there later, pouncing on scraps.

~*~

Alea was about ready to fall asleep when she made it back to the sleeping quarters, but it was still a bit early yet. The other two, Talia and the...Zith, was it? had joined her. At any other time, her curiosity would have forced her to at least try to talk to the furry man, but she was just so exhausted, and besides, the ship was heaving to the point where it took all her concentrate not to lose her dinner. (But by Viratas she'd be petched if she'd held her stomach contents in the face of stench only to lose them to a few rolling waves). When she noticed the unusually high water, however, an entirely different sick feeling arose in her stomach.

She made eye contact with the other two for a moment, but then she lurched out of her bunk and sloshed speedily away, in the direction of where the animals were kept. Unless she was claimed for more important duties, her first priority was making sure they were safe.

[Shadowfang]

Holding bucket and scrubber in hand, Shadowfang looked up at the mast towering over him. He figured he had been given the easiest job out of the others, but cleaning fish sounded like a job he could do. Then again, he probably would not be allowed to eat any of the fish so he was satisfied with his job. He would get to stay outside, fly, and it seemed easy. There weren't that many arms on the mast. 

He spread his wings wide, jumped, and flew, ascending towards the first thick wooden protrusion. As he landed, he dug his claws into the wood, slowly dropped to his knees, and sat so that he straddled the arm. The captain was not kidding. The wood seemed to have been painted white by the secretions of the birds. The stains came of easily at first, but he had to scrub harder and harder as he cleaned more of the filth away. He even spent a good half a bell on one stain, but he was not going to give up. He had a job to do and he was going to do it, simple as that. Besides, this core was not as bad as he thought it would be. 

No sooner than had he thought it, he felt something hit the top his head with a wet plop! Be quickly brought his hand to touch the spot, and then looked at the hand. There was a white, gooey substance matted into his fur. He put his hand atop his head again. There was yet more of the gooey stuff in his hair. Oh once he was done here, he was so going to catch and eat one of those damned birds. For now though, he still had more arms to clean, and he was only halfway done with the first one. He wasted no more time and got to scrubbing much more vigorously this time.

~~*~~

One of them smelled like fish, one of them smelled like human waste, and one of them smelled like birds and blood, but no matter how many vile smells assaulted his sensitive nose, he was still sleeping. He was not sleeping very soundly, but ut was still sleep. Besides, he was not about to complain about his bunkmates, considering that he enjoyed being is such close proximity with females, regardless of race. Even then, he was far too tired and far to queesy to talk to either of them, so he simply tried his best to keep his eyes closed. He was dreaming. The floor had turned into water and their bed was a boat. It was the only think keeping them from getting wet. Then, he heard the voices. 

He sat up. What had they said? He could not understand them. Then he looked down and realized with a shock of confusion and horror that his dream had turned into a reality. Water was all over the floor and it seamed like more would be on its way. He threw a short glance at Alea, then Talia, and started to panic. He quickly flung himself out of the bed. Up. He needed to go up to get away from the flood of water. He took a few sloshing steps towards the door and fell flat on his face as the ship bucked with the waves. Scrambling to his feet, now soaked and sore, he sprinted up to the deck as fast as he could. Something was very wrong. He burst above deck, essentially throwing himself into whatever chaos was ensuing. 

[Creeper]

*Moderators Note: Talia Iceglaze has backed out of the quest. She may or may not return. Continue onward without her. Talia had refused all attempts to do her duties, all attempts to learn, refused to even enter the galley proper. This infuriated the cook, and upset the moods of all the Vantha on the ship and word reached Captain Leif. He stormed down toward the galley, muttering about girls, ice maidens, and the need for women to learn discipline early on. He grabbed the first unwed shiphand he could find, a mountain of a man, sloppy, smelly, disgusting, named Chefron Coolwater. It was no surprise that no woman ever desired him, but he could really use a woman's light touch to clean him up. And he was well known for being strict and forceful, just what the girl needed to straighten up. The pair found Talia just outside the galley, "Stand up girl. If you're going to refuse to work on my ship, I'm going to put you to another use. You are sixteen winters, therefore old enough to seek a husband, and your roster indicated you had none. By my power as Captain of the Morwen's Spear, I wed you, Talia Iceglaze, to Chefron Coolwater. You will honor him as his wife. You will learn discipline, you will learn to be a productive Vantha citizen, and you will learn your place here. Now that you both are married, I dismiss you today from your duties to the spare cabin next to mine to consummate your marriage. You WILL do what your husband commands of you. Now go. Both of you, and enjoy your honeymoon on my boat." Chefron's stained and sweaty face lit up, and he dragged his new wife, who appeared to be in a state of shock, off to their wedding bed. The pair wouldn't be seen again for several days, though stories were spoken in whispers amongst the ship, rumors of the noises from the lovers' cabin. Many agreed with the Captain's decision, as there was no place for the useless, the weak, or the unwilling on this ship. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Alea was rushing toward the animal stow, she bumped into a barrel chested Vantha, who began shoving her towards the supplies storage. "Go go, they need us all down there, can't you hear them orders they are shouting!" As Alea was corralled into the massive Supplies Storage area, she could see water gushing in through a large burst in the wood. The water was filling in fast, and many Vantha were attempting to bail out using large buckets and an impressively disciplined line that led to the upper deck. The ship was listing toward the gash in the hull, and crates of supplies were sliding and floating around dangerously. The storm above was tossing the ship about like a piece of driftwood, and occasionally the hole would show stormy skies instead of tumultuous seas. A particularly hard bounce knocked most of the sailors down, slipping and stumbling. A crate marked Medical bounced heavily along the floor, and out the large hole. "We can't lose that crate! It's all we have!" The crate bounced into the rocky waves, waves that no novice could swim through. Alea's keen eyes and quick instincts saw several tools floating around the wrecked room, a large harpoon on a rope, a massive fishing net, a soggy crate of large animal hides. There was a Vantha at the hole trying to use the power of their goddess to freeze it over, but she appeared to be mute, and her attempts were going unnoticed by the rest of the Vantha. Above deck was just as bad as below, sails ripping from the mast, sailors being tossed about like rag dolls. Shadowfang couldn't tell if the rain was coming straight down or sideways, the winds buffeting his light body around fiercely. The Zith watched the ship bounce and two sailors were thrown overboard into the rough waves, one a large burly male, the other a spry young woman. The Zith may not speak Vani, but he knew cries for help when he heard them. One of the sails tore away from the mast, and landed flatly over the two flailing in the water, adding to their confusion and fear. This situation was only getting worse the longer Shadowfang delayed.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea could not understand a single word that was being shouted at her (or at least she didn't have time to puzzle it out), but somehow the huge man combined with the bouncing of the ship juggled her toward the place where all the action seemed to be. After a minor bounce knocked her off her feet, she decided to crouch near the floor, so that she would either have more things to hold on to, or have less far to go if the boat knocked her off balance again.

She took in as much as she could about the current scene. People and supplies were everywhere; the whole scene felt haphazard, especially after a particularly nasty toss dumped everyone else to the floor. When the crate that was important enough to elicit shouting went through the hole in the ship, Alea realized two things at once.

First, the only Vantha who didn't seem to be part of the bucket line was a small girl standing fearlessly by the hole, heedless of the risk of being sucked out into the waves. Focusing on her for just a tick, Alea noticed her gesturing at the hole, and small, sparkling shards breaking apart in the waves. Alea wanted to smack herself, and everyone else on board for not realizing sooner. "You're Vantha, for Morwen's sake!" she shouted, hoping they would understand her in spite of her Denvali accent, "Freeze the water!"

The second thing she realized was that someone had to get the crate, and it was going to be her. But how? She immediately went for the harpoon; it was the only one of the visible tools that she imagined could be of any use. But what next? Going out the hole after the crate would be suicide; even if she managed to avoid drowning or being crushed by waves, she would never get back to the ship, and she did not fancy being stranded in the middle of the ocean. The obvious thing to do was to throw the harpoon at the crate... and after just one attempt she realized it was moving around in the waves so much, she would never be able to hit it. It had been a long time since she had tried to spear moving targets, but even if she had been at her best, this was beyond her skill.

But she had grabbed the harpoon for a reason, and she was going to use it. She sloshed her way toward the hole, and with all her meager might, jammed it into the wooden boards of the ship. Almost as an afterthought, she tied the harpoon's rope hastily around her wrist and held it tightly, trusting neither her grip nor her knotting, but hoping that both together would keep her tethered to the ship. Then, before anyone could realize what she was doing in time to stop her, she took a deep breathe and jumped into the waves.

The first thing she felt, besides an almost unbearable cold, was a sense of complete disorientation. The salt water stung her eyes as she tried to locate both the ship and the crate. She paddled furiously, trying vainly to get used to her surroundings. A wave crashed over her head, jarring her painfully, but she fought her way back to the surface an gasped quickly for air before the currents pulled her under again.

She held fast to the rope, reassured by the fact that it was still in her hand (and that she could still feel it despite how numb her whole body felt). She felt even better when she spotted the crate, cresting the next wave over. With a wall of water bearing down on her, she took another quick deep breath and plunged toward the crate. She could not watch ans swim at the same time, and indeed the waves were tossing her about more than she was moving herself. After about the third bruising, battering, crushing wall of water, Alea started trying to dive either down or into the wave itself, in an attempt to lessen the blow. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of the crate, which always seemed both just a little bit closer and like she would never reach it.

She was not expecting it when she finally caught the crate; she had lost sight of it a few waves ago, and when she broke the surface for another quick breath, there it was in from of her. She latched onto it instantly, wrapping her arms tightly around the box. With what she had gone through to get this back, she would not even let Laviku take it from her. Now, to get back to the ship.

She checked, and the rope was still, somehow, grasped tightly in her hand. The knot, rather than coming undone, had tightened, which may have had something to do with why that hand was now purple. She tried to pull herself back along the rope, but she felt weak, far weaker than the waves which buffeted her. She had spent all her energy going after the crate, saving none for the return trip. She was so cold...

She tried to shout, I have it! I saved the crate! But her voice would not come out above a whisper. She yanked twice on the rope, the universal signal for "Pull me!" But she had no way of knowing whether Vantha understood her Denvali customs. She worked her voice, trying as hard as she could to make a sound. She had just spent a season mute; she REFUSED to lose her voice again. Not trying to form words, she simply tried to push sound through her throat. The most she managed was a short, high-pitched squeak.

[Shadowfang]

The first blast of wind almost threw Shadowfang overboard. It caught his wings and toppled him over. He hit the deck and rolled, cursing at the sky. He dug his claws into the wood in an attempt to anchor himself there, which worked until the two sailors were thrown overboard and into the violent waves. Shadowfang abandoned his anchor and stumbled to the edge to look over the rail. There, two odd lumps in the ripped sail. That was where the two sailors were. Shadowfang needed to save them, he decided. If he was going to survive this living hell, he was going to need all available hands to do what he could not. The way he saw it, every sailor had an important job here, which meant that those two Vantha were imperative to the survival of this ship.

His first thought was to fly out and rescue them. Which he tried. Stupidly. As soon as he spread his wings to fly, the strong wind lifted him over the side and almost into the water below. He was completely at the mercy of the storm for an instant until he began flapping, fighting to regain control. He fought his way over the rail, and flopped onto the deck. The damnable storm was not going to go easy on him, that much was for certain, so he would have to find something to help him beat the storm, something be could use as a sort of crutch. And he found it. Or rather, it fell on him. A rope used to hoist the sails fell on top of him and half-coiled around his head. He struggled to get it off of him in surprise and stared at the frayed end in his hand. This would do.

He grasped one end of the rope and ran towards the side of the ship as fast as the wind would allow him. Upon reaching the side, he quickly looped the rope around it and haphazardly tied a simple knot. The rope was thick and the knot, perilous, but with luck, it would hold. He looped the other end around his torso, tied the same shaky knot, and wasted no more time. He spread his wings to let the powerful wind propel him over the sea and toward the helpless sailors and lifted off. 

He glided toward the two lumps, working as hard as he could to keep from being blown past his targets or thrown into the sea. Between every strained flap of his wings, he descended just a little bit, getting ever nearer to the two Vantha, until he was almost right over them. He immediately began ripping at the sail with the claws on his feet, slashing and tearing through the sturdy fabric to reveal the black waters it was covering. He could not easily see either of the sailors but just as suddenly as he shredded through the sails, a hand grabbed his ankle. A second hand grabbed it and the owner of the hands began trying to climb up Shadowfang's leg! 

The sudden extra weight yanked Shadowfang downwards pulling the lower half of his legs into the water. He grabbed the rope at his waist and flapped. His wings fought and strained against the wind and the extra weight and he pulled on the rope to help drag himself through the air and back to the ship. It was a long, hard-fought battle against nature itself, but he won, eventually reaching the railing and hoisting both himself and his charge onto the deck. He didn't even bother looking to check which one he had saved and looked back out into the sea to find the other one. Only, he could not see the other sailor. He - or she - was not in the same spot as he was before. So where... There! Nearer to the back of the ship now, there was someone struggling to stay afloat. Shadowfang untied the rope from around the rail, ran towards the stern of the ship, tied it on the rail there, and dove overboard for a second time.



He was so tired now and it was so much harder to keep control of his flight path, but he flapped as hard as he could against the buffeting winds. Upon reaching the second sailor, he let the man grab his foot just as the female did and began working his way back towards the ship. The male was much heavier than the female was and he kept yelling at Shadowfang and trying to climb his leg. Still Shadowfang fought and after much more work and a much longer time, managed to flop onto the deck with the male in tow. He rolled over, sprawled out on the deck as the rain pounded his body. His wings hurt all over, every joint and every square inch on the membrane was sore, but he was foolish to think his work was already done. Another cry for help, more like a squeak, reached his ears. Exhausted, sore, and annoyed, he ran as fast as he could towards the cry, and dove - or more fell - over the side for what he dearly hoped was the last time. 

When he reached her, he noticed something. She was tied to the boat and holding a crate, which must have been important. He did not think he could help this one. His wings felt like they were about to rip from the strain, but an idea came to him. He quickly and awkwardly untied the rope from around his waist and tossed it to the girl. He then descended, flew back towards the ship to distance himself from her, and began clawing at the rope she was already attached to with his feet. When it finally snapped, he picked up the extra slack and flew back to the ship, his body being buffeted about in the wind. He dragged her through the water as he went until he reached the deck. He turned and began pulling the rope in, straining, fighting, hand over hand, trying to save the girl using the only limbs on his body that did not feel like they were about to fall off: his arms.