"A seafarer such as yourself should have zero issue with this creature. This is an urgent matter, please assist!" The letter reads, a sticky note plastered on the front of the letter you recently opened comes attached with a picture of what looks to...
"I do concur that the state of emergency has not exactly been the most convenient as of late, yet I do issue a plea of patience upon you all!"
Mayor George Dithers, a flabby man from head to toe; dressed up in a fit that was suitable for the speech he was giving. A polka–dotted tie, a dress shirt that hardly fit his large frame, and a top hat that could touch the clouds; should he jump high enough.
Dither's brow was a bristle coastline to the well of sweat building up on his forehead. The crowd about me were in a kind of frenzy, having secured a healthy wealth of injuries—namely among the older folk.
"How is the issue not taken care of already?!" Spoke one voice, clearly through the sea of heavy criticisms showering the mayor.
"We have made many calls to the seafarers, settle down; a capable one should be here in a few weeks or less!" Considering the plague of the seas as of recent, it makes sense that he would call multiple farers to assist. Patience was hardly on the mind of the many, as the proclamation of the mayor would stretch the will of the people.
The crowd threw into an uproar, bullets of rocks swimming over the head of the Mayor, a stray projectile plinking the top hat off kilter and sending it flying.
Dither's flabby body never moved so fast as he scrambled to collect his headgear, yet the rain of vulgarities and trash had not let–up.
I was just on my way to school anyhow, this is hardly any of my business. With a sidle, I made haste through the people and passed the thoroughfare of mob.
As I passed down the street with my bag's strap slacked over my shoulder—I got the instinct to peer over my collarbone and into the distance, a roaring tide was coming in; anybody caught in it was to get interrupted by the plague. Scorn of the town, it's streak of damage hadn't failed for the 2 months it had been active; it is all mom & dad ever spoke about when he head out to sea.
Although very dim and on the hem of my naked eye: I caught very real glimpses of 3 bar–slit eyes peeking at the docks of the town. The trails of ships heading away from the source casted white frills of water at their speed.
"Somebody should stop it..." My murmur escaped my little mouth, staring down the eyes of the creature in the forlorn distance.
𖣔Ebb the Tide 𖣔
I flipped over the letter that had been given to me, one leg kicked over the other—my tight boots sheltering my feet from the elements.
My ship–pilot, Davis Lumille, was peering into the distance at the 3–eyes that had warped the air and turned it into an enigma that somehow never ceased to pervade this little seaside abode.
As the tides grew more unstable, the ship rocked and kicked some droplets onto the letter's fabric, dampening it with spotty welts.
I placed the letter down onto the ship as my eyes glanced past the thick smog that covered the massive entity.
Partner ships that were also called were currently already on lead were on rails, heading to the same focus and all of our "Master Farers" were on their feet.
I reported to the bow of the ship with my gloves fastened around my digits.
The eyes clearly blinked upon me and my fellows, a semblance of fear had washed me, only to become vacant and meager.
The voice of the ready grew still as all of them have formed a diameter affront the lake of eyes.
"ON YOUR MARK, MEN! LADIES! UNITY, TRIDENT!"
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Time had seem to stand still for the monster as our energies became unified, collaborating towards a {Common Enemy}.
Power resonated as our Trident Formation had bestowed the seas with light—glimmers of hope that had ventured the horizon and beamed a heavenly scope across the sky.
Tendrils erupted from the waterbed and shot the ships off position, some of our crew–mates becoming nothing more than a memory.
As I stood on the bow of my rickety ship, I gazed into the eyes of the beast—a loose hinge of my brain had yield a grip on my instincts.
My feet kicked off the bow, hefty air–time given to my propulsion, my electric body striking the air around me and magneto–currents making the air crisp and brittle.
As the face of the beast approach, the last anybody saw of me was the horrid screeching of electricity against the baking skin of a monster.
The sky lit a–flame, the rims of the clouds above parting after a hint of yellow coloring their mast.
The monster's shriek was the last thing I heard, such is the life I give for the sake of the people.
Waves of hope and dreams shuddered, blasts of concussive force ejecting the soul from me and the monster, a due battle in Hell in the future.
We are of the SFOO, Sea Farers of Oblivion, where sacrifices of this kind are not uncommon.
