ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋʏ sᴘɪʟʟs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ
Off the coast of perhaps one of the most northerly points of Novus, a little boat was being carelessly tossed around by the ocean. It rose up above the waves, visible for a few seconds, only to be plunged back down once again obstructed by the surf. The deep blue waters were angry today, and as they raged down below, the sun joined in the aggressive attack with its blazing rays.
The occupant of the boat, with furrowed eyebrows, was attempting to steer it towards the land that had been assured to be in this direction. "South west", he had been told. "Keep sailing till you see it." And that he had, though nature had not been kind to him -- when the storm had begun, the remnants of his water barrel had spilled over the side. He had gloomily watched as his lifeline mixed with the salted waters he had been traversing. Of course, there had been a few curse words thrown to the sky after that moment.
Galileo Kodarki had never been one for sea travel. He was, and always had been, a tank on land, and he could never quite understand the obsession with the sea. To him it screamed danger and when it waved its frothy tides, he had been sure to keep on the right side of it.
Now (and thankfully), a golden coastline was visible, though the storm's blackened clouds were a sharp contrast to the orange cliffs ahead. Grabbing hold of a rope flying astray, he tugged at it in his teeth, correcting the course of his boat towards what he hoped would be a place he could land. Approaching the cliffs at an alarming speed, the equine struggled to control the vessel and the whites of his eyes flashed as they realised what was ahead.
“Shit.”
With a grunt, he threw his weight to one side, the bow of the ship lurching wildly to the right. The incoming rocks jutting out of the water offered no mercy, and they dragged along the side of the wood with a harrowing screech. Unsteady on his hooves, the stallion could do nothing but sit and hope that whichever gods watched over the lands he was crashing into were benevolent enough to let this day not be his last.
The next thing he felt was a huge thud which, once again, sent him flying backwards towards the stern of his small vessel. Dazed, he gave himself a moment of recovery -- he was seemingly alive and uninjured, bar a few scratches that didn't run deep. The smell of salt drifted into his nose and he pulled a face. There were definitely better smells than the sea. Slowly rising, the Kodarki son's thick tree trunk legs pulled him up with one motion. Ungraceful as ever, he stepped on a half broken plank and it splintered underneath his weight. Taking one look at the boat, he could see it needed intense repairs -- the whole port side had been ripped open (he was grateful he had launched himself away or he too could have a hole in his side), and some of the wood had already been ripped away by the ebbing tide.
When he looked up, he was surprised to see that the bright gold he had expected was actually a darker shade, much like what he was used to from the Red Waste, his desert home in Elysium. That brought a small amount of comfort to the stallion. Now he just had to work out where he was.
Starting up towards the desert itself, Galileo left the little boat behind, letting it rot in its watery grave.
~
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