Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

The Port

The salty tang of the sea clung to the air as Appa descended onto a rocky outcrop overlooking a small, unassuming port town nestled along the Earth Kingdom's southern coast. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the weathered docks, where fishing boats bobbed beside crates of dried seaweed and salted fish.

Aang, Sokka, Suki, Toph, and Katara dismounted, their faces grim with purpose. The Iron Dragon's bombardment of Bin Er still burned in their memories—smoke-choked skies, shattered walls, and the roar of flames. A fisherman's tip had led them here: a heavily plated warship, steaming south, its iron hull a specter of Rokkun's wrath.

Aang's grey eyes scanned the port, his staff tapping nervously against the ground. "This place feels... off," he murmured, the wind tugging at his orange robes. "Like the whole town's holding its breath."

Toph, barefoot and sensing the earth's pulse, nodded. "Yeah, Twinkle Toes. The ground's tense—people are scared stiff. We're deep in Fire Nomad turf." She tilted her head, picking up faint tremors of hurried footsteps. "Nobody's talking, either. Not a good sign."

Katara adjusted her water skin, her blue eyes narrowing. "The Fire Nomads must be here, then. That fisherman said the Iron Dragon passed through—someone's got to know something."

Sokka, polishing his boomerang with a forced grin, stepped forward. "Leave it to me, guys. I'll charm the locals into spilling the beans. Worked in Ba Sing Se, right?" His bravado faltered slightly.

Suki raised an eyebrow, her Kyoshi Warrior fans glinting at her belt. "Just don't start a brawl this time, Sokka. We need answers, not bruises."

The group ventured into the town, its narrow streets lined with ramshackle stalls and nervous vendors. Fishermen and merchants averted their eyes, their voices hushed as Team Avatar passed. Questions about the Iron Dragon or the Fire Nomads were met with tight lips and hurried retreats, fear etched into every face.

As they rounded a corner, a commotion erupted near a fish stall. Three Fire Nomad warriors, clad in crimson and black armor with jagged tattoos, towered over a trembling merchant.

One, a burly man with a scarred lip, shoved the merchant against his cart, spilling fish across the cobblestones. "You shorted us, old man," he growled, flames flickering at his fingertips. "Pay up, or we burn this dump down."

Aang's grip tightened on his staff, but Katara placed a hand on his arm. "Not yet," she whispered. "We need to know where they're going."

Toph smirked, cracking her knuckles. "I say we pound 'em and make 'em talk."

Suki nodded toward a nearby tavern, its sign creaking in the wind, where the warriors were headed. "They're going in there. Let's follow—quietly."

The tavern was a dim, smoky den, filled with rough sailors, mercenaries, and more Fire Nomads, their laughter coarse and edged with menace. The air reeked of sour ale and charred wood, the walls scarred from past brawls.

The three warriors settled at a table, clinking mugs and boasting loudly about their raids. Team Avatar slipped into a shadowed corner, blending into the crowd.

Sokka adjusted his Water Tribe tunic, flashing a confident grin. "Time for the ol' Sokka charm. Watch and learn." Before anyone could protest, he sauntered over to the Nomads' table, grabbing a stool and plopping down like he belonged.

"Hey, fellas," Sokka said, voice dripping with false camaraderie. "Heard you're with the Fire Nomads. Impressive outfit! I'm looking to sign up—where do I go for the big leagues? Maybe catch a ride on that Iron Dragon I keep hearing about?" He leaned in, winking conspiratorially.

The scarred warrior squinted, sizing him up. "A Water Tribe runt wants to join us?" He laughed, a harsh bark echoed by his companions. "You're soft as fish guts, kid."

Sokka grinned, undeterred. "Soft? Nah, I'm tough as a turtle-seal! C'mon, you guys must be headed somewhere big, right? That Iron Dragon's gotta dock somewhere—like a stronghold, maybe?"

The second warrior, lean with a braided beard, smirked. "You're bold, I'll give you that. The Dragon's headed south, to Xanadu—our stronghold. But you?" He sneered, glancing at Sokka's blue tunic. "You wouldn't last a day. Water Tribe's got no fire in 'em.

"Xanadu, huh?" Sokka leaned back, feigning disappointment. "Sounds like a party I'm missing out on. Where's it at, so I can at least dream of glory?"

The third warrior, a woman with a shaved head and a fire-whip coiled at her hip, snorted. "South, past the Serpent's Pass, where the cliffs burn red. But don't bother, fish-boy. Rokkun doesn't take weaklings." She shoved a mug of ale at him, spilling it on his tunic. "Run back to your ice floes."

Sokka laughed, wiping the ale off with mock cheer. "Fair enough! Thanks for the tip, though." He stood, bowing theatrically, and sauntered back to the group, ignoring the Nomads' mocking laughter.

Back in the corner, Toph grinned. "Smooth, Snoozles. Got a location and a bath in ale. New personal best."

Katara frowned, her voice low. "Xanadu, south past the Serpent's Pass. That's where Rokkun's hiding."

Aang's eyes hardened. "If the Iron Dragon's headed there, we can catch it before it strikes again. The Coalition can't take another hit."

Suki nodded, her fans twitching. "Those Nomads are cocky, but they're scared of Rokkun. He's got them on a tight leash. We need to move fast."

The group slipped out of the tavern, the raucous laughter fading behind them. Outside, the sea breeze carried the scent of salt and storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Appa waited on the outcrop, his low growl mirroring their resolve. As they climbed aboard, Sokka glanced back at the port, its silence a stark reminder of the Fire Nomads' grip.

"Xanadu," Sokka muttered, gripping his boomerang. "Time to crash Rokkun's party."

Aang took the reins, and Appa soared into the twilight, heading south toward the red cliffs and the heart of the Fire Nomads' power. The hunt for Rokkun had a name now—Xanadu—and the Gaang's resolve burned brighter than ever, a spark against the looming shadow of war.