2nd of Vhalar 720
The seas made a foamy chorus as they churned through windy weather. The day was overcast, but it didn't look like rain, and there'd been no red sky in the morning. Rorom was confident he'd be safe on his longboat, exploring the coasts north of Egilrun. Gulls squawked and sang in the skies, and as they touched down to float in the sea water. The fishing was good for them, but not as much for Rorom. Yet he was not after a particular prey this morning. He only wanted to scout out some fishing spots near the seaside cliffs to the north of his shanty.
The longboat swayed with the gently churning waves as he came against the beginnings of the cliffs. He had some stock with him, a few barbed throwing spears, and one barbed trident for his own personal use. He'd considered bringing his main weapon, a steel brandistock spear, but thought it wasn't suitable to the task of fishing as much as self defense. So he came with just his spears and trident.
He hadn't tried spear fishing very often before, although he was familiar with the principles. It was mostly used by strong swimmers, but there was a case to be made for shallow spear-fishing. He hoped to find just such a shoal around the cliffs to the north, so he could make a few colorful trophies, or else test his skill against the shallow fish of the eastern seas.
He rowed further as he got to the edge of the cliffs. Then proceeded amidst the rocks, careful not to run aground of any of them. Here, it was tricky, he had to very carefully row his boat and not let the current pull him astray, lest it force a collision with some jagged rocks. He used the oar alternatively as a prod, to put distance between him and any solid earth.
All the while, the seas and waters sang to him, calling him out further. Water was a good friend to him, and so it had been that Rorom accepted the 'curse' or gift of Defiance as some might call it. The Sea Witch that had infected him with the magical condition was still at large, out there. Albeit, in the Western seas if he was to judge. But perhaps she'd moved on since then? Sometimes he wondered.
As he got further along the cliffs, he began to hear a peculiar sound, like the melodic humming of a flute. It carried across the waves and against the solid cliff faces, echoing, and giving it a reverberative quality. Rorom perked his pointed ears at the sound, and proceeded to row for to get closer to its source.
As his oars rowed his boat in a northerly direction, he coaxed the waters to ease his passage. Forming a small, makeshift current that would take him farther out from the rocks, and give him perspective toward the cliffside. The waters churned as they acquiesced with his coaxing, providing deference to the vessel he piloted.
The vessel went farther out to sea, until Rorom could spot a seaside cave, near a cove just around the nearest bend in the cliff's face. It was there, he could see, as the air spoke to him, telling him from whence the wind blew that the voice was coming from there. After a fashion, he listened to the waters as well, and sensed a confirmation.
Thoughts came unbidden to Rorom's mind, as he rowed for the seaside cave, thoughts that promised knowledge, power, and understanding. He didn't quite understand it. Were there mer in that cave? Were they laying a trap for him? I was possible, and yet Rorom felt unafraid as he changed course, and began rowing for that cave. He'd all but abandoned any notion of going spear-fishing today, and wanted nothing more than to explore this fascinating phenomenon in the coasts north of Egilrun.
The sway of Rorom's oars took him further into the cliffs, slowly but steadily. Within a few breaks, he arrived at the shallows just shy of the cavern's entrance. Here, he took a small boulder he'd tied a knot around, to keep it as a makeshift anchor. He threw this into a scattering of rocks near the shore. After hopping out of his longboat, he began piling more rocks on top of the 'anchor' so as to keep it from drifting, if a particularly powerful current latched onto his boat.
From there, he waded into the seacave.
Inside, the sounds of melodic singing took form on his ear. The biqaj mariner followed them, bearing forth his trident, as a method of self defense if whatever it was turned out to be hostile. He felt the thoughts washing over his mind still, offering the same three concepts. Knowledge, understanding, power. While the third of those things didn't mean all that much to Rorom, he was always keen to learn and understand. Particularly when it came to the mer folk. Unlike much of his kind, he did not disdain their sea-dwelling cousins. He more pitied them, and tried to be kind to them where possible. That wasn't to say he didn't defend himself on occasion, but tried to make nice with the fishfolk in order to avoid conflict.
Rorom held tightly to his trident, as he lifted his voice over the din. He said, "Who be there? I arrive in peace, let none come to harm in your grotto, fishfolk!" So saying, to prove his intentions, he laid down his trident, setting it against the wall, and then wading a few feet to the the left.
The singing slowly faded from his hearing, and then it was replaced by something else. Bubbling, melodic laughter. Did Mer have proper vocal chords to speak?! Rorom had never known them to. They always made do with their peculiar telepathy.
Yet here he was, hearing the voice of a female laughing, her lilting voice containing an ephemeral and decidedly fluid quality to it. He drew away from his spear, and wandered further into the cave, against his better judgment.
There, around the bend, illuminated by glowing fungi, was the woman. The Sea Witch herself. The Lady of Limbs. She had arrived in Scalvoris.
The Lady of Limbs glanced toward Rorom, smiling as if unsurprised to see him there. In truth, she could likely sense him through their link, that of mistress and initiate. Rorom didn't know of such witchery, of course, and was still wary of the old sea witch. Yet here she was, in the flesh. She was real!
He lowered his spear, holding it at the ready in case the creature charged at him, or did any such thing. She didn't. This put him ill at ease. Could the witch call up the ocean to swallow Rorom? Or the beasts of the water to swallow him whole? Why wasn't she threatened by his weapon?!
"Lady of Limbs!" Rorom cried out to her, "You have afflicted me with this curse of arcana. I implore you to remove this curse. I have no quarrel with you otherwise, but tis a gift I didn't ask for!"
She hummed, in her melodic way, which had a soothing ambience that put Rorom slightly more at ease, despite himself. Finally, she spoke, and it was mimicked by her inner voice which also spoke to him at the same time, "Rorom, friend of mer. You would return my gift? Very well, but I require a gift from you in turn..."
Rorom lifted the tip of his spear, and came to hold it vertically, like a walking staff as the butt rested against the cavern floor. He lifted a brow skeptically, wondering at her words. Was this more trickery? Likely, but he might as well hear her out, "Say what yer will then, Mistress of Limbs. And we will consider!" He shouted over the din, over her humming and the drip drip drip of the seaside cavern.
His legs were submerged in water, about a knee deep as he walked through the cavern. Yet the wetness of it didn't trouble him, thanks to the sorcery that infused his being. The water deferred to him, and felt more like a comforting embrace than a inconvenience.
Finally, after a few moments, the Lady of Limbs, Acciona spoke, "Bring me a Dragon Weed... And I will free you of the curse of Defiance..."
Rorom frowned. He didn't know what a Dragon Weed was. Some sort of vegetation, or... was it a...
"The Dragon Weed is a special fish, that has beauty unrivaled in these waters. I wish to have its ability to change its scales for my own." She smiled at him, "Bring me one, alive or dead, and I will reward you."
Rorom's mouth twisted. He didn't like it, didn't trust this creature, and yet she was his best and only lead on getting rid of his arcana. Then again, he'd gotten quite used to having the arcane parasite rattling in his soul. He couldn't deny that it had a use from time to time.
Still, he nodded, agreeing. "Very well. Where do I find this Dragon Weed?"
"They breed on the 100th of Ashan, in the waters west of here... Now... I will have peace in my grotto. Begone."
So saying, the tidal waters began to rise, bidden by Acciona's gestures and the waving of her tentacles against the air. The tide began to rise, and with it, a current began to pull Rorom out of the cave. He strained against the power of the pull, threatening to pluck him out and send him into the undertow. He called to water, to no avail, he asked for it to deferr to him, and it did not. His mistress of Defiance magic was more powerful than him in their magic. And she had water as a kin.
Rorom found himself swept under the rising tide, and pulled out of the cavern and far out to the waters surrounding. He tried to keep his head above water, but the swirling vortex of liquid coalesced all around him. It was almost as if he was being initiated again. The water pulled and pushed at him, as he flowed out to sea, losing grip on his spear and then flying out of the mouth of the cave and into the outer reaches of the waters.
Finally, having left the orbit of Acciona, he found an accord with the waters, using his magic to form a kinship of sorts with the watery forces around him. Just as he did, he felt the first sign of the water adhering to his soul, leaving their first mark, their first mutation. He felt he would never rest unless it was immersed in water.
Rorom fell into sleep then, as he floated farther out to sea. Yet as he did so, the ocean was as a feather bed, and protected him in his sleep...
