The wreckage smoldered beneath Captain Luma as she and her crew surveyed for any valuables within reach. She reached into her side pouch and withdrew a pair of goggles that Zeff had made for her some time ago.
After securing them over her eyes she twisted the focus rings on both lenses, activating the magics within them. Glowing points overlaid her view of the wreckage, and she directed her crew to each.
The shifting sands were busy during this process, slowly flooding the broken vessel. As the sand entered the wreckage it ceased being affected by the portals of air, making the vessel sink faster and faster.
Luma dove to the captain's quarters of the enemy vessel, a particular brightness peaking her interest.
The room, like the airship, leaned at an awkward angle, but Luma used her wings to steady herself. The room was dark, so she summoned four motes of light that drifted into the corners. As a Mothkin she had abilities that let her control light and shadows.
As was common, most of the furniture was secured to the deck, including the chest in front of the captain's bed. The cutlass shape she'd seen in the area was emanating from the chest.
“Come to momma,” she purred as she took a small wand from her pouch and tapped the lock.
With a rush of movement, the Chimeran captain burst out of the chest, sword in hand. Luma was caught by surprise, and paid for that with blood, a gash across her torso. She leapt back, drawing her own blade.
“Smash and Grab seemed a little premature, Luma.”
“I thought it might have been you, Magrin.” Luma said as she struck, blade intercepting blade to neither's gain.
Magrin, like other Chimerans, was an amalgamation of different creatures. Her head was draconic, one of the rarer varieties. The scales on her arms, like her head, were glistening blue and ended in sharp talons, while her torso and legs were furred like a tiger's, large paws serving as her feet. She wore the loose fitting silken garb common among the desert dwellers.
“Why wouldn't it be me?” Magrin said as she put on the offensive, her prowess shown as she landed a fresh cut to Luma's right shoulder.
“You tried a mutiny, then stole my sword before fleeing like a coward,” Luma goaded.
Magrin's face twisted with rage and she inhaled sharply, breathing out a line of electricity. Luma had leapt to the right, the bolt instead blowing the door off its hinges.
“I don't care that you tried to take my ship,” Luma dusted herself off and recentered her focus, “but I will have my sword back.”
Luma shifted around Magrin cautiously, their swords nearly touching. Quick strikes met with parries, heavy blows with quick steps that only just got them out from harm's way. Neither gave any ground.
“You've been training,” Luma said, genuinely impressed with Magrin's skill.
“You die today,” Magrin growled.
Luma positioned herself near the blasted doorway, into which was slowly gathering sand.
“Looks like your crew has all but abandoned you. Did they lock you in that chest?” Luma's defensive movement made their fight spill out onto the main deck, which had leveled out over the shifting sands, nearly level with the sand sea.
With more space to play in, Luma made better use of her wings, distracting and dodging and flying in short bursts to navigate around Magrin, who breathed bolt after bolt after her.
Then one of her bolts landed, striking a wing and sending Luma spiraling to the deck. She landed hard, struggling to find her footing. When she did, she found her own sword pressed against her neck.
“Impressive you show no fear in the face of death,” Magrin said with a vicious smile.
“Impressive you forgot that I'm not alone,” Luma said as she grimaced from the pain of her smoking wing.
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Elemental bolts, bullets, arrows, and other ranged weapons all struck at Magrin at once. She dropped the sword as she tucked in so her hard scales could protect the rest of her body. And she ran, Luma's sword cutting deep into her side before she dove into the shifting sands.
Luma picked up her sword, sighing as though a part of her soul had been returned. The blade was immaculate, with gems inset in the hilt, pommel, and guard. The blade was a metallic blue, shimmering in the sun.
She drank a potion from her pouch, gently flexed her wing, and took to the skies, leading her crew toward Alogow.
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The wolf-faced Chimeran had cleaned up, his tailored clothing covering the heavy scars across his body and the rune Zolis had etched into his chest. He felt the power of the rune pushing him forward, knowing that if he deviated from his task there would be dire and painful consequences.
His left hand that was a strong crustacean claw drew a bottle to his lips. He took in several gulps, feeling the burn of the booze into his gut. In his right, he held out a slate with a document on the display. The ship's captain, a Nessian woman he didn't care to learn the name of, read it once he'd handed off the slate.
“You work for Zolis?” She said warily.
He grunted, moving around her to step onto her ship. “We leave now,” he growled.
“We're still loading up sup-” with a lunge the wolf man had her by the throat near where her long neck joined her shoulder.
He pulled her close enough to smell the strong liquor on his breath, “Ten minutes.”
She nodded, taking in a deep breath when he released her. She barked out some orders and the loading pace increased. It would be several days' journey to reach the Dead Wood, and she wanted to ensure they had enough provisions. Her crew consisted of the turtlefolk Kappans, tentacled Krakenkin, and more of the serpentine Nessians like herself. All of them beings with affinity for water meant they needed fewer stores of food, able to get what they need from the Atlantris Ocean. Thus, most of their provisions were recreational in nature. Rum and other alcohols, spices, teas and coffees. They did store some food just in case the ocean was light on options or they wanted to change things up.
Shelldon, a smaller than average kappan with a chef's hat and a scowl, bolted out from belowdecks. His voice, though an octave higher than other Kappans, carried an air of authority. “Captain Raine! Why is everyone running around my kitchen like jitterfish?”
“New orders! We leave in ten minutes.”
“Because of this chimeran?”
“His boss, technically, but yes.”
“Zolis again?” Raine nodded. “What, he sends his big bad wolf to knock someone's ship over?”
“We're getting paid for it, so what does it matter?” Raine whispered.
“We nearly lost our ship the last time we had to take a Zolis goon to some random ass port city!”
Raine grabbed Shelldon by the shoulder, crouching to his eye level. “We have to do this. You know what would happen if we refused.”
Shelldon solemnly nodded his agreement and shuddered. The last crew that denied one of Zolis's ‘requests’ had washed up to shore, piece by piece, over several months’ time. “I don't have to like it though.”
“I don't like it either, but this is a burden we all must share. Try to keep their spirits up, will you?”
“I'll do my best.”
Three days into their journey, Raine was steering the ship when she felt a strange pulse of energy wash across it. Her navigator, a krakenkin named Garret, ran to her wringing his tentacles nervously.
“What is it?”
“Our sensors just started acting up.”
“Did you feel that pulse?” she asked.
“No, captain.”
“How did they start acting up? Do we still have our heading?”
Garret nodded, “We are still tracking our location, but it's like our sensors got overcharged. Some were completely fried. And-” He hesitated.
“Out with it!” She demanded.
“There may be something wrong with our sensors.”
“Stop dancing around it.”
“Normally, this section of ocean has a lower ambient magic concentration, but since the surge it's like the surrounding area has rebounded to the magic level of the adjacent areas.”
Confusion and concern flashed briefly across Raine's face. “Why do I get the feeling this involves the Chimeran we have on board?”
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Zeff arrived safely into Alogow and began working diligently to get the ramshackle dwellings ready for Luma and the others. He sat in a lawn chair he had set on a second story balcony next to a moisture condenser, sipping a cup of water when the mothkin drew close enough for him to see them as specks in the sky.
The condenser sparked and sputtered as the pulse passed through the town. His slate, which he had linked to several sensors he'd set up around Alogow, was making a claxon with abnormal readings.
He checked the data uploading into his slate and pulled up a map of the surrounding area.
He muttered to himself. “Started north of town, spreading uniformly south. Slight curvature of triggering sensors. Normal storm would trigger all simultaneously. Must mean a centralized point of origin. Given the distance,” he tapped on the image to zoom out showing Alogow, Gronwood, and Saltwatch, “it came from Gronwood.”
Knowing Luma and the rest would be fine once they arrived, Zeff left a note, hefted his pack, and set off, far too curious not to investigate.