The first sight of Izmar's expansive desert coastline brought a wave of relief washing over both Clewis and Lark.

The journey had been atrocious, claiming the lives of two crew members and leaving the rest battered and exhausted from the constant storms. As they approached Black Water Bay, however, that relief quickly soured into dread.

Ebony smoke rose from several points in the ramshackle port town, and the sounds of erratic gunfire reverberated across the water. Captain Horne, a grizzled veteran of perilous routes, spat over the side of the ship.

"This is as far as we go, lads,"

"Black Water Bay's been a right mess lately. Pirates to the west, tribal rebels to the east, and that lunatic 'god-king' stirring up trouble from the inland. You're on your own from here." He growled.

Clewis opened his mouth to protest, but Lark clamped a hand on his shoulder. "We appreciate the ride, Captain," he said gruffly. "We'll make our own way from here."

As they rowed to shore in a small dinghy, the true scale of the chaos became apparent. Bodies floated in the murky waters of the bay, some fresh, others bloated and reeking.

The docks were a hive of activity, with rough-looking men and women loading crates onto ships while keeping wary eyes on the horizon.

"Well, my friend," Clewis said, trying to keep his voice light, "it seems Izmar is determined to give us a proper welcome."

Lark grunted, his eyes scanning the docks for any immediate threats. "Just keep your head down and your mouth shut for once."

As they stepped onto the creaking wooden planks, a commotion erupted nearby. A group of short, dark-skinned locals--standing barely five feet tall, were engaged in a heated argument with a band of Gurano pirates.

Clewis and Lark exchanged glances, surprised to see people who shared their skin tone, albeit in more diminutive stature.

Before they could process this, the argument exploded into violence.

A pirate drew a wicked-looking blade, only to have his arm nearly severed by the lightning-fast strike of a native warrior wielding a macuahuitl -– a wooden club lined with obsidian blades.

"Shit!" Lark hissed, pulling Clewis behind a stack of crates as chaos erupted around them.

The air filled with the clash of steel, the crack of primitive firearms, and the screams of the wounded and dying. Blood slicked the docks, making footing treacherous as pirates and natives alike fell into the churning waters below.

"We need to get off these docks," Clewis shouted over the clangor. "Find somewhere defensible!"

Lark nodded, his eyes wild with a mix of anxiety and euphoria. This was the kind of visceral, raw experience he'd always tried to capture in his art. Now, surrounded by the stench of blood and gunpowder, he felt a perverse ecstasy.

They made a break for it, weaving through the melee. Clewis snatched up a fallen cutlass, while Lark armed himself with a heavy belaying pin.

They'd barely made it halfway down the dock when a massive explosion rocked the bay.

Turning, they saw a pirate ship erupting into an inferno, its mast toppling as secondary detonations tore through its hull. The shock wave knocked them off their feet, sending them sprawling onto the blood-slicked planks.

As Clewis struggled to his feet, a shadow fell over him.

He looked up to see a towering pirate, his face a mess of scars and poorly healed wounds. The man raised a rusted axe, a crooked grin splitting his face.

Clewis saw the axe beginning its downward angle and knew he couldn't move fast enough to avoid it.

Then, with a wet thunk, the pirate's head simply pulverized into a chunky mess. The ruined face leaked teeth as its body toppled forward, revealing Lark standing behind it, the bloodied belaying pin gripped in both hands; splintered, yet useable.

"I thought I told you to keep your head down," Lark barked, extending a hand to help Clewis up.

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Before Clewis could respond, a bone-chilling howl cut through the chaos.

The fighting on the docks stuttered to a halt as all eyes turned inland. There, cresting a hill overlooking the bay, was a sight that made Clewis's blood run cold.

Andrewsarchus. Massive, prehistoric predators thought long extinct in the Old World. Yet here they were, dozens of them, each one the size of a rhino with jaws that could crush bone; and riding atop each beast was a warrior in elaborate, feathered armor.

"The god-king's forces," someone nearby whispered in terror.

The tribal warriors spurred their mounts forward, and the beasts charged down the hill toward the docks. Their howls filled the air, a primal sound that spoke to some profound, instinctual domain of the brain that identified apex predators.

"Run!" Lark screamed, clutching Clewis by the neckband and dragging him toward the town.

They sprinted down narrow, winding alleys, the sounds of screaming and tearing flesh echoing behind them. The stench of fear was palpable as townspeople blockaded themselves in buildings or fled toward the dubious safety of the desert.

Clewis and Lark ducked into a run-down tavern, its windows already boarded up. Inside, they found a group of natives and a few pirates, all armed and wild-eyed with fear.

One of the natives, a woman with intricate facial tattoos, approached them. "You are not Garuno," she said, her accent thick but understandable. "Why are you here?"

Clewis, ever the smooth talker, opened his mouth to spin a tale, but Lark cut him off. "We're refugees,"

"Escaped slaves from the Old World. We didn't know we were sailing into a war zone." he stated bluntly.

The woman's brown eyes cushioned slightly. "I am Ai'Taka. You have chosen a bad time to seek liberation in Izmar. The god-king Aygu seeks to unite all the tribes under his rule, and he does not take kindly to outsiders."

A massive impact shook the building, dust raining down from the rafters. The howls of the andrewsarchus were closer now, mixed with the shrieks of the dying.

"We need to move," one of the pirates yelped. "This place won't hold them for long."

Taka nodded. "There are tunnels beneath the town, remnants of an older civilization before your invasion...They may be our only chance."

As if to punctuate her words, a section of the wall exploded inward.

Through the dust and debris, they saw the massive, slavering jaws of an andrewsarchus. Its rider, resplendent in feathers and jade, leveled a spear tipped with obsidian.

"For Aygu!" the rider roared, spurring his mount forward.

Clewis found himself fighting on pure instinct, his stolen cutlass flaring as he parried the warrior's spear thrust. Lark lashed forward, his belaying pin smashing bone and crushing the skull of the rider.

The natives proved to be fierce fighters despite their small stature. They darted in and out, their obsidian-edged weapons finding weak spots in the Andrewsarchus's dense hide.

"The tunnels!" Taka shouted, gesturing toward a trapdoor half-hidden beneath an overturned table. "Go!"

Clewis hesitated, but Lark grabbed him and shoved him toward the trapdoor without any qualms. They stumbled down into darkness, the sounds of battle fading above them.

The tunnels were ancient, the air thick with the musty scent of centuries passing. They ran blindly, using the rough mud walls to guide them.

Behind them, they could hear the scraping of claws on dirt--some of the Andrewsarchus had followed them into the tunnels and were picking apart some of the following pirates, their pegged limbs and sea legs being their downfall.

"There!" Clewis shouted, pointing ahead to a faint glimmer of light. They burst out of the tunnel into an oasis clearing, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them as the ceiling collapsed from the much too-large beasts fighting the stragglers.

As they caught their breath, Lark turned to Clewis, his eyes wild.

"Still think Izmar is our chance for a fresh start?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Clewis, despite everything, managed a weak grin; catching the view of Taka pulling herself from the rubble behind them. "Well, my friend, you can't deny it's inspiration for one hell of a story."

Lark couldn't help but laugh, the sound tinged with hysteria.

They were alive, against all odds, but they'd traded one set of dangers for another. As the adrenaline faded, the true weight of their situation settled in.

They were stranded in an unknown land, caught between warring factions, with one ally and no resources. The Old World, for all its faults, was at least familiar.

Here in Izmar, every shadow could hide a threat, every stranger a potential enemy.

As night fell, they made a meager camp, using Clewis's tattered coat as a makeshift shelter for the three. The distant sounds of conflict in Black Water Bay had faded, replaced by the eerie calls of unfamiliar wildlife.

"What now?" Lark asked, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Clewis stared into the darkness, his counting stars. "We survive," he said finally.

"We learn from Taka. And then, my friend, we conquer. Izmar may not be the paradise we hoped for, but it's a blank slate. A chance to rewrite the rules."

Lark studied his friend's face in the dim starlight then looked to the sleeping Taka, finding it strange how quickly she trusted them after hearing their plight.

He saw the familiar glint of ambition in Clewis's eyes, but there was something else there too. A hardness that hadn't been there before, forged in the gauntlet of their violent arrival.

"You're really not giving up on this, are you?" Lark asked.

Clewis's grin was fierce in the darkness. "My dear Lark, we've only just begun. Tomorrow, we start building OUR empire."

As they drifted into an uneasy sleep in shifts, neither man could shake the feeling that their adventure had taken a turn into far darker territory than they'd ever imagined.

Izmar had welcomed them with blood and fire, and it was clear that survival here would require them to tap into parts of themselves they'd long kept buried since the uprising.

The Old World had made them slaves.

Izmar, in its brutal way, had set them free.

What they would become in this savage new land remained to be seen, but one thing was certain--They were a long way from the failed artist and the hack writer who had set sail with dreams of easy riches.