1 Cylus 723
- Port Diablo
The air within the cabin of his ship was frigid when he woke and he groped blindly for the Cavani’s cloak he knew was strewn haphazardly somewhere on his bunk. He felt the different fabric before he felt the warmth of it seep into his hand and he hastily dragged it up to his face, draping it over his head before he wriggled his shoulders and chest under it, wrapping himself somewhat in it. The warmth was immediate and the Biqaj welcomed it greedily, lounging in it until, at last, he finally withdrew himself from the small bed.
Crouching, he wound the cloak around himself and pulled on his lone boot and strapped on his peg then tossed his sealskin coat over his shoulders before he hobbled awkwardly through the cabin towards the stairway then up and out through the companionway to the deck above, grabbing his crutch along the way. The cold blast of air that greeted him was hugely unwelcome and his bleary eyes cast over the sea and sky that stretched out before him, broken up only by the odd ship that dotted the waters of the port.
Everything was bleak and dark and, for a moment, the Biqaj wondered if it was just his eyes and the fact he still felt half asleep. He rubbed at them roughly with fingertips and then the heels of his hands in a bid to rid them of sleep and then looked out again. The sky remained the same.
Pyrre didn’t like what he saw.
With his full focus on the dusky skyline, he studied the way the clouds looked, straining to see their outline in the darkened sky. He could just make them out, darker shapes that sat low and heavy, foretelling of a possible storm or, at the very least, precipitation. There was a feeling in the air he was familiar with but couldn't quite put his finger on, and he didn't like it. For the Biqaj, it spelled something ominous on the horizon, and he knew he would need to prepare the Shiver for whatever might come.
Rearranging his Cavani’s cloak to rest around his neck more like an oversized scarf, he shrugged his arms into his coat and then turned his attention to his ship. He knew it was not ideal to be moored during a storm; a ship stuck between a storm and land was likely to be ruined. Usually, the best plan of action would be to sail away from the storm and wait it out, but Pyrre knew he had no idea how long the storm would be and that he sorely lacked the provisions to sustain him.
No - he would need to figure out how to weather it while at port.
His eyes swept the deck as he considered his options. He knew he needed to get his ship out of the water, for starters. Dry docking would be ideal, but that would require funds he did not have. That only left him with the option to careen it as he had in the past. He liked this option a lot less due to the risks it posed but it was all he could think of, considering he lacked a crew to help him get it up on higher ground, let alone on blocks.
His attention was then snagged by activity on the beach. Furrowing his brow, he tilted his head to the left and leaned that way to get a better view of what was going on in the dim Cylus light. It appeared to be a group of people stacking bits of wood. Beyond them another stack glowed, the fire dancing in the salty breeze. The Biqaj’s eyes narrowed, considering it all. He was well aware the island was home to a number of traditions, most of which often coincided with the Immortals that seemed to favour this land, and he found himself weighing up whether it was worth heading down to inquire.
He had much to do to ready his ship, yet Pyrre was an innately curious creature and he did want to absorb everything the culture here had to offer, and he figured a brief chat wouldn’t hurt. At best, he might be able to ask if they might be familiar with what looked like a storm on the horizon. Local knowledge went a long way, afterall.
Taking up his crutch, he made his way across the gangplank that connected his sloop to the docks and then slowly advanced towards the where the wooden piers gave way to the rocky shoreline. His trundling was arduous and he felt his muscles begin to burn as he crutched along the sand. Eventually, he called out once he was in earshot of the nearest person, “Ho! What this about?”
A man paused what he was doing and regarded the Biqaj before answering, “Preparing a bonfire for later today. Celebratin’ before the weather turns.” He spoke in that strange amalgamation of Common and Rakahi that was common for the area that Pyrre still struggled with, yet, thankfully, it was a simple enough statement that the Biqaj understood enough.
“I see clouds. They look bad. Is common to light bonfire before storms here?” Pyrre inquired. He hadn’t been aware of such a concept prior to today and it made him all the more curious.
“Nah, not all storms. Jus’ this one,” the man replied, using his head to motion towards the skyline as his hands were occupied with a large bit of wood that he was manhandling into place. “The snows are a’comin’, jus’ like e’ry Cylus. So we light the fires and have a good time before we get stuck inside.”
Snow. Pyrre had only really experienced it in Viden, but, even then, it was a short-lived affair and he knew little about it. The thought of a different kind of weather event being on the horizon made his blood turn cold and he realised quickly that he had no idea how to prepare for such. His eyes quickly scanned the area, noting how many ships were up out of the water, and he decided then and there he needed to follow through with his plan.
“Many thanks… and enjoy,” uttered the Biqaj, to which the man only nodded, yet Pyrre was none-the-wiser, having already turned around to crutch back to his sloop.
“Come an’ join us! E’ryone is welcome!”
Pyrre could not think about celebrating. Not now, not when he now faced a whole new and wholly novel adversary.
Crouching, he wound the cloak around himself and pulled on his lone boot and strapped on his peg then tossed his sealskin coat over his shoulders before he hobbled awkwardly through the cabin towards the stairway then up and out through the companionway to the deck above, grabbing his crutch along the way. The cold blast of air that greeted him was hugely unwelcome and his bleary eyes cast over the sea and sky that stretched out before him, broken up only by the odd ship that dotted the waters of the port.
Everything was bleak and dark and, for a moment, the Biqaj wondered if it was just his eyes and the fact he still felt half asleep. He rubbed at them roughly with fingertips and then the heels of his hands in a bid to rid them of sleep and then looked out again. The sky remained the same.
Pyrre didn’t like what he saw.
With his full focus on the dusky skyline, he studied the way the clouds looked, straining to see their outline in the darkened sky. He could just make them out, darker shapes that sat low and heavy, foretelling of a possible storm or, at the very least, precipitation. There was a feeling in the air he was familiar with but couldn't quite put his finger on, and he didn't like it. For the Biqaj, it spelled something ominous on the horizon, and he knew he would need to prepare the Shiver for whatever might come.
Rearranging his Cavani’s cloak to rest around his neck more like an oversized scarf, he shrugged his arms into his coat and then turned his attention to his ship. He knew it was not ideal to be moored during a storm; a ship stuck between a storm and land was likely to be ruined. Usually, the best plan of action would be to sail away from the storm and wait it out, but Pyrre knew he had no idea how long the storm would be and that he sorely lacked the provisions to sustain him.
No - he would need to figure out how to weather it while at port.
His eyes swept the deck as he considered his options. He knew he needed to get his ship out of the water, for starters. Dry docking would be ideal, but that would require funds he did not have. That only left him with the option to careen it as he had in the past. He liked this option a lot less due to the risks it posed but it was all he could think of, considering he lacked a crew to help him get it up on higher ground, let alone on blocks.
His attention was then snagged by activity on the beach. Furrowing his brow, he tilted his head to the left and leaned that way to get a better view of what was going on in the dim Cylus light. It appeared to be a group of people stacking bits of wood. Beyond them another stack glowed, the fire dancing in the salty breeze. The Biqaj’s eyes narrowed, considering it all. He was well aware the island was home to a number of traditions, most of which often coincided with the Immortals that seemed to favour this land, and he found himself weighing up whether it was worth heading down to inquire.
He had much to do to ready his ship, yet Pyrre was an innately curious creature and he did want to absorb everything the culture here had to offer, and he figured a brief chat wouldn’t hurt. At best, he might be able to ask if they might be familiar with what looked like a storm on the horizon. Local knowledge went a long way, afterall.
Taking up his crutch, he made his way across the gangplank that connected his sloop to the docks and then slowly advanced towards the where the wooden piers gave way to the rocky shoreline. His trundling was arduous and he felt his muscles begin to burn as he crutched along the sand. Eventually, he called out once he was in earshot of the nearest person, “Ho! What this about?”
A man paused what he was doing and regarded the Biqaj before answering, “Preparing a bonfire for later today. Celebratin’ before the weather turns.” He spoke in that strange amalgamation of Common and Rakahi that was common for the area that Pyrre still struggled with, yet, thankfully, it was a simple enough statement that the Biqaj understood enough.
“I see clouds. They look bad. Is common to light bonfire before storms here?” Pyrre inquired. He hadn’t been aware of such a concept prior to today and it made him all the more curious.
“Nah, not all storms. Jus’ this one,” the man replied, using his head to motion towards the skyline as his hands were occupied with a large bit of wood that he was manhandling into place. “The snows are a’comin’, jus’ like e’ry Cylus. So we light the fires and have a good time before we get stuck inside.”
Snow. Pyrre had only really experienced it in Viden, but, even then, it was a short-lived affair and he knew little about it. The thought of a different kind of weather event being on the horizon made his blood turn cold and he realised quickly that he had no idea how to prepare for such. His eyes quickly scanned the area, noting how many ships were up out of the water, and he decided then and there he needed to follow through with his plan.
“Many thanks… and enjoy,” uttered the Biqaj, to which the man only nodded, yet Pyrre was none-the-wiser, having already turned around to crutch back to his sloop.
“Come an’ join us! E’ryone is welcome!”
Pyrre could not think about celebrating. Not now, not when he now faced a whole new and wholly novel adversary.
