Berrybottles' Travel Guide to Terra

Day 3

Observation Journal Entry #5

Morning, Stormy Weather

Breakfast: Haven't eaten yet. Still too shook up!!

Hello Travelers,

My goodness! My peace rest! My, my—I don't even know where to start, I'm so frazzled!! My emotions are completely tattered to my core! Okay, okay, just calm down, Autumn. Find your center. Breathe. Alright, friends, I'm okay, and sadly I'm not making much sense. Let me start from the beginning.

The time: early this morning. So early, the sun had not yet risen from it's slumber.

The place: the Rough Delight Zephyr.

Picture this. Me. In bed. Not in a sexy way, but more of a snoring, kinda drooly, one leg outside the covers for heat management and both my arms spread starfish way. (I have no idea why I sleep like I am maintaining distance measurements, but I do.)

When suddenly, a flash of lightning so bright, a crack of thunder so loud, it was as if I were amid an argument of Storm Dragons. And indeed, I thought I was for a good minute there. I even awoke saying, "Grace behold! Elegance and wisdom.", which is the proper way to greet a Dragon, after all.

But no Dragon or other such being. Instead, slam, went the Zephyr, crash went the glass on the, um, ship term for the right side.

My friends, we were under attack!!!

Pirates, I thought, but then realized, no, that's our ship. Imperials, I believed next, or some other kind of authority vessel. But my worst fears came to fruition when I clearly heard the spine-tingling, thundering roar—like cold fingers scraping across my warm bed skin.

A Crashurn!

Now, based on my journal interactions so far, I believe many of you may not know what a Crashurn is. And therefore, the proper amount of awe and fear is not being felt. So, I shall explain as best as my shaking fingers will let me.

It is simple, really, a Crashurn is a monster. Specifically, a monster type known as a Fractured, that come about from the misuse of magic. Fractured are ablations of magic that broke off somehow—usually from inexperience, or battle—and then mutate into a physical monster that hunts and feeds on whatever magic caused it.

A Fractured caused by Love Magic will hunt those in love. A Fractured caused by Farming Magic will consume mass crops and cause famines. All Fractured are named after whatever magic caused it; sort of a warning guide for the Champions, Slayers, and Hunters who will return it to the magic it fractured from. Basically, turning the angry magic ablation back into the good magic essence it once was.

As I said, this Fractured was a Crashurn—Crash for the deafening thunderous roars, and Urn because it renders you to ash with its powerful lightning attacks!!

Crashurns are massive, bird-like monsters. It perches upon cliffs with one thick, powerful, boulder crushing taloned, scaly leg. Two vulture like heads, long hooked beaks, stretched rope necks, and four thick wings. The bits of metal within its feathers are highly prized in markets. When unprovoked, they look a beautiful sky blue and storm grey. But, when preparing to attack, they become a glowing red, with sparks zapping and snapping about in small arcs.

You can probably guess that its main attack is with bolts of electricity. However, what you probably didn't assume, is that it doesn't shoot them down at you, it calls them up from beneath you. This is a very huge problem for a Zephyr that is fortified for natural electricity from above, and not for ground currents below.

Crashurns don't shoot lightning like a God of old; they are conductors drawing it up to itself. Absorbing it into its body as nourishment. Ripping electric waves through your ship, or your body, with searing heat and draining force. When they fly, it isn't as a normal bird, but in a swift, unpredictable, jagged pattern, making them extremely difficult to hit with projectiles. And when they grab on, they shake up and down violently; hoping to render their quarry unconscious.

Crashurns are created from Energy Magic, and seek out the largest sources of power to feed from. In our case, the Atmo-Sphere Crystal in the center of our ship! Its magic creates a barrier that retains some of the steam heat from our engines, and allows us all to breathe comfortably, and not get light headed and freeze up here.

I suppose I should have been grateful that the crystal was drawing more attention than our physical bodies, but still! It was attacking us as if it were trying to split our shell open for a golden yolk at our center. Zap! Crash! Bashing into the side of us even!

At one point, a talon toe came right through my window, gripping the wall up to the roof. Then it shook and shook; jostling me about like the last bean in a bag, before throwing the ship down just enough for me to FALL OUT AND OVERBOARD!

THIS! This is why I stay calm, and ALWAYS put on my Goggles, Breather, parachute, and backpack at the slightest bit of turbulence. If I am going overboard, it will be a fully prepared descent into screaming.

And scream I did. At first. Tumbling into the cold darkness. Seeing only black below with silvery moonlight outlines of mountainous horizons. Cursing myself for not thinking to also put on a warmer coat. (Hence forth, that is now part of my Calmness Preparedness routine.) And struggling to remember how many seconds to count before releasing my parachute. Was it one, two, three? Or one, two, oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods!!!!

But, I didn't have long to scream and ponder, when suddenly a bolt of indigo light, mingling and clinking like metal, rushed from the ship above. It wrapped warmly around my waist, and held me like a lure on the end of a Zephyr shaped rod.

Such a Binding Spell—at that speed, distance, and strength—isn't cast from a Peasant Class. And, although it was possible that someone onboard was capable of Noble Class magic, I knew it wasn't from the crew the moment I looked up. For there they stood, alight with indigo magic and cool, silver moon beams, upon the thick, wooden railing, like a hero of lore. In each hand, a Twilight Chain spell—one wrapped around me, the other around the Crashurn's thick leg.

This, my friends, is how I met the royal passenger I spoke of before; the dashing, handsome Prince Lann of Bloodbriar.