Timestamp: Summer 42, 507
Karyk rolled off of Nerilia, the two of them panting heavily, glistening in sweat as the heat through the rose heavily, not aided by the newlyweds' lovemaking. They were married at the first of the year, in a small boat out in the middle of the bay, saying their vows to each other and Laviku. And since then, the too had been insatiable in trying to get Nerilia pregnant. The woman mewed softly, satisfied, rolling over, draping an arm over Karyk's heaving chest, nestled in his arm. She teased at his beard, looking up at him, as his eyes focused on the poorly built ceiling above them.
This house of theirs was a gift to them for being married, but it was the shoddiest of craftmanship. Karyk really wanted to just tear it all down and start anew. He could build a ship, how hard could building a house be? She leaned over and kissed him, "I need to get to the shop soon, what are ya gonna do on your day off?"
"I'ma get some wood and replace this roof."
She smiled and tapped his chest lightly, "Well ya have fun with that. Just be safe dearest." She climbed over him, moving around their little cottage while Karyk watched. She was beautiful, dark hair and green eyes, wide hips, and that standard Zeltivan thinness that most women had. He hoped soon to see her belly swollen with their child, preferably a son. She dressed, wrapped up some of the leftover fried fish and kelp for him, kissed him once more, and went to work.
Karyk sat up to stretch, and felt the entire world shake. There was a loud crack and Karyk found himself falling. With a thud, Karyk found himself a few shorter, and fuming. His bed broke. It was cheaply made, as were most things in Zeltiva, and clearly put through a lot of stress lately. He pulled himself upright, annoyed and kicked the bed. Both of the long beams were busted. The roof would have to wait.
He grabbed his pack, his axe bundle, and the covered basket of food, and huffed his way from his house, slamming the door in his annoyance. He stormed down through East Street, and it wasn't long until the man moved out through Mirahil pass, not even bothering to acknowledge the guards there.
Karyk moved along a thin game trail, following the winding path through the small trees closer to the city. The trees got bigger the further out he went, loggers always taking the closest ones. Karyk followed this game trail to a deep creek, which he followed northward for several bells. Once the trees were big enough for Karyk to consider worthwhile, the sun was high in the sky, midday.
The shipwright began looking for the telltale signs of the tree he wanted, beech. It was one of the easier ones to spot, after all, it was the only one that had nuts covered in spikes. They reminded him of sea urchins. Which is why ever since he was a kid, he called them tree urchins. His eyes passed through the canopy, passing over the maples with their little arms that spun the seeds, and the oaks with the nuts with hats. It didn't take long for him to find a medium sized beech tree, right in a copse of maples.
Karyk's stomach grumbled loudly, and he decided to eat before he set to work. He moved over to the beech tree, kicked away a bunch of the tree urchin shells, and sat down. He set his pack and axe bundle next to him, and set the food basket on his lap. He took a bite of the fried fish, savoring the flaky goodness. His wife was an even better cook than his sister, and his sister's cooking was well known up and down East Street, as was her temper and her weakness for sailors.
Between bites, he started singing a song, off key and loudly, wishing he had some kelp beer to go with it. Food and singing were always better with kelp beer.
"Come buck up, my lads 'tis to fish we seek
To last through another week
To hunger we call you, men not knaves
For who are so free as the sons of the waves
Stomachs of tin, empty as our pouches
We always ready steady men, steady
We'll find them tuna, we ain't no slouches
We ne'er see them fish, but surely soon we will
And if not, at least we have our kelp swill
If they flee, we'll follow in the night
And if they don't, we'll win the fight
Stomachs of copper, empty as our pouches
We always ready steady men, steady
We'll find them albacore, we ain't no slouches
Our ships are rotted, our sails are torn
Our men are down and forlorn
But the chase is on and fast
And we will make this food last
Stomachs of iron, empty as our pouches
We always ready steady men, steady
We'll find them swordfish, we ain't no slouches
And when the Svefra come, in their piss poor ships
We'll cut them from nuts to lips
Then cheer as the seas sail smooth
And our hunger we shall sooth
Stomachs of steel, empty as our pouches
We always ready steady men, steady
We'll find them whales, we ain't no slouches"
by Karyk on May 23rd, 2017, 6:03 am 
