//REALLY sorry to do this this way, as there simply isn't enough time (and enough Kronoses) for me to do anything else.\
The titanic waves finally calmed, leaving nothing but smooth sands behind. Several skeleton trees still stood in the distance, naked without their leaves and branches. Some poor fisherman's hut was completely blown away before the water even touched it - by the terrible shockwave the tsunamis chased before them.
After the mist settled, a small gust of wind appeared to bring about a cloud of dust. The dust spun in a twirling vortex, solidifying into a man. Finally, the gloomy silhouette of Damien Roth showed through.
Carelessly, apathetically almost, he rose up into the air, carried by the wind to the monstrous battle between Retan and Draven. From his belt shone two blades - an axe, and a halberd...
--- --- ---
-"You're not going to be my slave? Trust me, my friend: it is better to surrender your will now rather than have it be torn from you by me later. Besides, this was supposed to be nothing but a pretend show. I simply do not want to scare off the inhabitants, as, I'm sure you've noticed, my true appearance is not exactly easy on the eyes...
"But as I said, this is only a pretend show. Fine, follow me in the shadows, if you're going to be so picky."
A short walk later, we finally entered the settlement. At first, I suspected that I was looking at a fishing village - however, a closer study told me that this was not so. For one, a normal fishing village might be centred around fishing, but not... to this extent...
I was surrounded by buildings made entirely from parts of ships, or at least what resembled parts of ships. I beheld tall edifices that seemed to be sawed off ship bows; lank towers resembling masts; small tent-like structures made from pieces of broken dinghies.
Another detail that caught my eye was the appearance of the inhabitants. Their clothes seemed to be more suiting to caravan guards than sailors. Many didn't wear shirts, preferring instead to show off their elaborate tattoos on their chests. The rest of their clothes was quite baggy, and quite colourful: I felt as if this was some sort of a human zoo.
The other, and possibly most disturbing thing I noticed was a strange symbol seen all over the place: a shield-like mask, of sorts, with six eyes on it. It was on people's tattoos, it was on their flags, it was on their standards hanging over their homes. A few of them were scratched directly into wood with great craftsmanship. Obviously, whatever this symbol may have meant, it was of great importance to them.
One of the natives finally noticed me, and emitted a short, shrill two-note whistle. At once, I was surrounded by several heavy-built men with their heads veiled in bright scarves, wielding great marble hammers. The hammers had the same symbol engraved on them (they want to beat their enemies with the face of their deity? Rather odd, if you ask me).
-"You! Fat one! Who are you? How did you get here?"
-"FAT one? I'll have you know that--"
I quickly caught a hold of myself.
-"Excuse me. I am... uhm... Dronos, a travelling merchant. My ship has crashed, and my slave was killed. I have nothing to eat. If you get me back to my lands, my reward for you will be great."
The guards lowered their weapons, probably discouraged by my somewhat non-intimidating appearance. I took a sigh of relief; if one of them decided to swing that hammer at me, I'd have to drop my disguise and kill them all. I really prefer to draw my fun out instead of having it done all at once.
-"Really? I think you're lying," said a taller one, the one who whistled at me. "But no matter. You don't look very strong, anyway. Maybe we should cut that fat gut of yours to pieces and roast it."
-"Nah," another one interjected. "The fat ones' meat is all greasy. Runs down your mouth like slime."
A roar of laughter nearly knocked me backwards. Whoever they were, they certainly laughed loud...
-"Please," I squeezed through my teeth. This was the first time I've said that word in months. "Let me stay. I promise, I'll reward you with gold, wine, women, or whatever else you may desire."
Men, maybe? Heheheh.
-"Fine, fine... I guess we could find you a place in a pig sty or something. You'd fit right in."
Another burst of deafening laughter. How annoying.
-"Thank you, kind sir... May I know who you are, though?"
The native pulled his chest up, with a smug expression on his face.
-"We are the Margonites, after our leader, Elder Margo. I myself am called Mikhalos, and this is our town of Boreas. We're only staying here for two or three months, before the chilling winter winds begin to blow."
What the hell ever, I don't care. I pushed myself through the guards, who made no attempt to stop me. Now everyone was back to work, looking at me casually, at best. I hid behind one of the buildings.
-"Akran! Akran, you worthless pile of albatrash refuse! Show yourself!"
--- --- ---
Cain clearly looked agitated.
-"It really would be for the best if you accepted now, Mr. Eldridge, but I cannot force your hand. Know, however, that--"
The M-grid orb lit up.
-"Yes? Foreman Kampard? The weapon is completed?"
-"Yes, Scribe. We're sending it off to you right now. It might take a while to arrive, it is rather slow."
-"Excellent... Mr. Eldridge, you are dismissed."
