Zensuon: Crystal Age

A Great Day For A Swim

Where our dastardly duo (or duo of disaster) battle strange cloaked men of cloth, metal and wood.

Nuraka's hand hit the edge of the boat to a loud Thud. Mica watched in confusion from the other side of the boat, near the edge. It wasn't that far, close enough to hear each other shouting over the cacophony of fading screams from the uncounted passengers as they ran away from the charging orc ... wait, why was Nuraka charging at him? That orc just pushed from his end of the boat to end me?

Mica tried to parse his trail of thought as the green giant charged at him. The creature's eyes burning with primal rage and an axe in hand that for all purposes could be described as Mica-sized. Unfortunately, the only series of thoughts that came to his head was rather blurry. They were very grim and very bloody, not his favourite kind at all.

Why?

Did he think I tried to attack him?

Should I speak?

No time for that, he'll be over me before I even make the first syllable heard.

Stylliadamn, what good is all your advice now, old man, if I'm about to die?

As Mica finished that final thought, Nuraka leapt and landed with a Crunch. Mica's eyes glazed, stared-

- at Nuraka's boot smashing the head of the hooded figure that barely peeked from the side of the boat, not a step away from where the halfling was standing. Splinters started flying everywhere as the wooden head was smashed, and with another leap from there- Nuraka was flying, although one might say very rapidly descending, towards the small four-man boat where another hooded figure was staring.

Who knew if, or what, bits of wood, metal and glass might think to themselves witnessing a massive axe coming down upon them from the heavens? But the best of blacksmiths, carpenters and glassworkers would likely say it is a singular word:

Fuck.

Mica cringed looking down at the massacre, as both the hooded... men? No, constructs or golems*, likely, and the boat crashed into the canal's waters, obscured by a giant splash. Nuraka disappeared with them, only the rope still hooked to the ship floated amongst the floating pieces of wood.

*Golems: [made to look like people but made of stone, metal or really anything that magic can move through. It's debatable if they are or not, in the sense people are that is, and so most people name them 'constructs'- either as deep social commentary that they are made in the mind's-eyes of man, or just because they're usually made of construction material.]

"Nuraka? Nuraka!" Mica shouted. The cries of the others amongst the deck were no more as all other visible passengers disappeared from sight. Likely going below, which was the smart move, Mica considered, as the ship continued on course and the rubble was left behind with no sign of the greenskin.

Mica stopped to think, something that seemed to separate him from the now drowned orc: The attackers are gone, the orc is gone, and I'm back to square one. All I have to do now is get into the city and get lost so no one would be able to track m-

A massive splash surged outward from the surface of the water, it was the orc, immediately swimming towards the rope now floating just out of its- I mean, his reach, Mica thought. He's resilient, the halfling added in his mind, as he stood atop the barrel, starting to whistle. And in turn, the winds began to whistle.

The rope, which was limply hanging in the waters just out of the orc's reach, began to be pushed and shoved. Thus teased and yanked by sporadic and lashing bursts of air. The air tugged the heavy rope slowly towards the rushing Nuraka. As the orc finally clasped his hand around the wet rope and started pulling himself up. Wet grunts accompanied his ascension towards the ship.