Gourd was a simple man who lived a simple life and that was just fine by him. Born the son of a Dawn dockworker and too mundane to aspire to much more, he dedicated his life to the sea.
Most of his days were spent hauling crates that contained her treasures, down ship ramps and onto carts to be taken to market. When he wanted quieter work and a gentler pace, he hauled nets on one of the fishing boats. Somedays, he did both, either when he needed a bit more coin to spoil the family or when he couldn’t stand to be around them a moment longer than necessary.
It was for the former reason that he found himself hauling on a net just after dawn, straining alongside two other men. Whatever they’d caught weighed a fair bit, which could be either good or bad. The waters near their province were rather tame but one could never be too careful. Powerful creatures gravitated to the Great Tree, blessed be its branches. Not even the residents of the sea were immune to the allure, despite not having the ability to reach it.
While it was commonly said that their great ancestor resided in the center of the continent, that wasn’t quite true. It was a fair bit into the province of High Noon. Enough that the monsters stuck to the waters near their province rather than circle the whole of the land. However, the occasional threat found its way into their waters. It didn’t happen often but any seaman that didn’t want to be the next cautionary tale kept their eyes open for the odd white whaleshark or leviathan.
“We better be pulling up a chest full of gold!” the man to the left of Gourd hissed as his skinny arms pulled. The residents of Dawn tended to have fairer skin and he was as fair as they came, his skin a creamy complexion almost as white as a moon lily. For that, his flush of exertion was obviously, the red heavily coloring his cheeks and pinking his ears.
The man to the right of Gourd simply cursed, glaring at the net as if it was a Twilighter that had seduced both his mother and his sister before running off.
Their efforts eventually paid off, as they hauled their catch over the side of the boat. There was quite a bit of fish, as expected, a few pieces of driftwood, a boot because there was always a boot in the sea, something with too many tentacles, and a broken spear shaft, all wrapped up in knots of seaweed. All expected fare.
Except for the dead body.
“Ah, broken branch. Another floater.” The pale elf, the smallest of the crew and the most exhausted, collapsed on his rump with dissatisfaction.
“Doesn’t smell like he’s been in the water long,” Gourd muttered. His second companion helped him unravel the net and drop their catch on the deck. They grabbed the body and pulled it to the side. While the third hauler went off to grab a cloth to wrap the body, Gourd crouched beside it, trying to divine what had killed the man.
Normally, such things were obvious, as the predators of the sea weren’t known for being discreet. The floater was an exception, his dark green skin without a blemish from head to toe. Wet hair the color of ash clung to his face, obscuring most of his face but not the two prominent fangs slightly jutting out from his lower jaw and over his upper lip.
“Look like he’s got some mountain blood in him.” The pale elf had caught his breath and wandered over to stand beside Gourd. “Probably a Twilighter. I say we throw him overboard and let the fish deal with him.”
“Even a Twilighter deserves to be brought back to his family.” Gourd thought the province got too much grief. Sure, they were responsible for just about every heinous and scandalous event in the history of the provinces, but it made no sense to ostracize anyone with the “blood of perverts”. The Twilight clans were old and very prolific. If one were to put a red dot on the forehead of all those with blood ties to the clans, almost every head on the continent would be marked. Some just showed their relation more obviously than others.
“Would explain why he’s so tough. The sea drowned him, but the beasties couldn’t take a bite out of his side. Probably didn’t want—eeeehh!”
The pale elf scrambled backwards and Gourd was right behind him, without the high-pitched screaming. His heart pounded as he stared at the dead body that had opened its eyes.
With a deep groan, the man they all thought was dead slowly sat up, pulling seaweed from where it clung to his body. His long hair was bundled up and and wrung out before being tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Mesmerizingly colorful eyes, more gold than green when the light struck them, looked around the boat before settling on the seamen. Then he looked down at the net.
“I’ve caused you some trouble,” the man said slowly, apparently having pieced together events. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“You…”
“What the—fuck!”
The scene was interrupted by the third hauler returning, the bundle of cloth in his hands dropping to the deck as he stared at the man, who stared right back at him. They might have continued that way for an hour if their unexpected visitor didn’t break the stalemate by clearing his throat and addressing the elf that had just returned. “You should alert the captain of this vessel about the not so dead body you’ve hoisted onto their boat.”
“Uh, yeah,” the third hauler mumbled before turning back the way he’d come.
“Hey!” the pale elf shouted as the man slowly got to his feet. “S-stay there!”
Gourd didn’t blame the other man for being nervous. When they thought the mountain blood was dead, he was an unexpected annoyance. Alive, he was an unknown. A very powerful unknown. They had hauled him up from deep waters and he hadn’t been breathing. Now, he was on his feet and stretching as if nothing was amiss. Besides that, only the powerful, the insane, or the powerful and insane ever swam in the waters surrounding the continent.
Gourd thought the man was the last option as they watched him leap over the side of the boat, slipping into the water with barely a disturbance. Gourd scrambled to his feet and hurriedly looked over the side but there was no trace of the stranger.
“…I guess he’s gone?” he said to his pale companion, who shrugged in turn.
Only for the water to surge, a dark shape breaking the surface and flying into the air. Gourd scrambled backwards as the stranger landed on the boat, causing it to sway dangerously. In his hands, he held a large fish with blue-green scales that uselessly flopped about in a bid to return to the sea. A green glow covered the man’s hands and the fish stilled.
“In return for your help, I will make breakfast. I hope you all aren’t tired of fish.”
Gourd was a simple man who lived a simple life and that was just fine by him. Born the son of a Dawn dockworker and too mundane to aspire to much more, he dedicated his life to the sea.
Most of his days were spent hauling crates that contained her treasures, down ship ramps and onto carts to be taken to market. When he wanted quieter work and a gentler pace, he hauled nets on one of the fishing boats. Somedays, he did both, either when he needed a bit more coin to spoil the family or when he couldn’t stand to be around them a moment longer than necessary.
It was for the former reason that he found himself hauling on a net just after dawn, straining alongside two other men. Whatever they’d caught weighed a fair bit, which could be either good or bad. The waters near their province were rather tame but one could never be too careful. Powerful creatures gravitated to the Great Tree, blessed be its branches. Not even the residents of the sea were immune to the allure, despite not having the ability to reach it.
While it was commonly said that their great ancestor resided in the center of the continent, that wasn’t quite true. It was a fair bit into the province of High Noon. Enough that the monsters stuck to the waters near their province rather than circle the whole of the land. However, the occasional threat found its way into their waters. It didn’t happen often but any seaman that didn’t want to be the next cautionary tale kept their eyes open for the odd white whaleshark or leviathan.
“We better be pulling up a chest full of gold!” the man to the left of Gourd hissed as his skinny arms pulled. The residents of Dawn tended to have fairer skin and he was as fair as they came, his skin a creamy complexion almost as white as a moon lily. For that, his flush of exertion was obviously, the red heavily coloring his cheeks and pinking his ears.
The man to the right of Gourd simply cursed, glaring at the net as if it was a Twilighter that had seduced both his mother and his sister before running off.
Their efforts eventually paid off, as they hauled their catch over the side of the boat. There was quite a bit of fish, as expected, a few pieces of driftwood, a boot because there was always a boot in the sea, something with too many tentacles, and a broken spear shaft, all wrapped up in knots of seaweed. All expected fare.
Except for the dead body.
“Ah, broken branch. Another floater.” The pale elf, the smallest of the crew and the most exhausted, collapsed on his rump with dissatisfaction.
“Doesn’t smell like he’s been in the water long,” Gourd muttered. His second companion helped him unravel the net and drop their catch on the deck. They grabbed the body and pulled it to the side. While the third hauler went off to grab a cloth to wrap the body, Gourd crouched beside it, trying to divine what had killed the man.
Normally, such things were obvious, as the predators of the sea weren’t known for being discreet. The floater was an exception, his dark green skin without a blemish from head to toe. Wet hair the color of ash clung to his face, obscuring most of his face but not the two prominent fangs slightly jutting out from his lower jaw and over his upper lip.
“Look like he’s got some mountain blood in him.” The pale elf had caught his breath and wandered over to stand beside Gourd. “Probably a Twilighter. I say we throw him overboard and let the fish deal with him.”
“Even a Twilighter deserves to be brought back to his family.” Gourd thought the province got too much grief. Sure, they were responsible for just about every heinous and scandalous event in the history of the provinces, but it made no sense to ostracize anyone with the “blood of perverts”. The Twilight clans were old and very prolific. If one were to put a red dot on the forehead of all those with blood ties to the clans, almost every head on the continent would be marked. Some just showed their relation more obviously than others.
“Would explain why he’s so tough. The sea drowned him, but the beasties couldn’t take a bite out of his side. Probably didn’t want—eeeehh!”
The pale elf scrambled backwards and Gourd was right behind him, without the high-pitched screaming. His heart pounded as he stared at the dead body that had opened its eyes.
With a deep groan, the man they all thought was dead slowly sat up, pulling seaweed from where it clung to his body. His long hair was bundled up and and wrung out before being tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Mesmerizingly colorful eyes, more gold than green when the light struck them, looked around the boat before settling on the seamen. Then he looked down at the net.
“I’ve caused you some trouble,” the man said slowly, apparently having pieced together events. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“You…”
“What the—fuck!”
The scene was interrupted by the third hauler returning, the bundle of cloth in his hands dropping to the deck as he stared at the man, who stared right back at him. They might have continued that way for an hour if their unexpected visitor didn’t break the stalemate by clearing his throat and addressing the elf that had just returned. “You should alert the captain of this vessel about the not so dead body you’ve hoisted onto their boat.”
“Uh, yeah,” the third hauler mumbled before turning back the way he’d come.
“Hey!” the pale elf shouted as the man slowly got to his feet. “S-stay there!”
Gourd didn’t blame the other man for being nervous. When they thought the mountain blood was dead, he was an unexpected annoyance. Alive, he was an unknown. A very powerful unknown. They had hauled him up from deep waters and he hadn’t been breathing. Now, he was on his feet and stretching as if nothing was amiss. Besides that, only the powerful, the insane, or the powerful and insane ever swam in the waters surrounding the continent.
Gourd thought the man was the last option as they watched him leap over the side of the boat, slipping into the water with barely a disturbance. Gourd scrambled to his feet and hurriedly looked over the side but there was no trace of the stranger.
“…I guess he’s gone?” he said to his pale companion, who shrugged in turn.
Only for the water to surge, a dark shape breaking the surface and flying into the air. Gourd scrambled backwards as the stranger landed on the boat, causing it to sway dangerously. In his hands, he held a large fish with blue-green scales that uselessly flopped about in a bid to return to the sea. A green glow covered the man’s hands and the fish stilled.
“In return for your help, I will make breakfast. I hope you all aren’t tired of fish.”
