2019-06-06: Landfall

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  • Cutscene: Landfall
  • Cast: Talise Gianfair
  • Where: The Coast of Spira
  • Date: June 6, 2019
  • Summary: A ship of wanderers makes landfall.

... almost there ...

Waves churned against the sides of a ship that did not belong here. She'd surged through these seas far longer than she had any right to. She'd sailed far beyond the reach of her crew's endurance, beyond the reach of food and water.

And yet she'd continued to run. Endlessly. Searching for something they could never find.

They were tired. So tired.

... so tired ...

The hands that gripped the tiller were scarcely able to be called such. They breathed through the rotting wood, coiling around it like mist, eddying as if an unseen wind could somehow stir those left aboard and blow them off the deck and out of the holds. Overhead, the tattered ruins of sails boomed and shuddered.

The winds they caught were not the winds of the ocean sea.

... seek it out ...

Ahead, the smudge of land filled the horizon, closer than it had ever been. It had seemed impossibly out of reach before.

Something was different now. They'd wandered for far too long, seeing that shore but not knowing how to find what they sought. Not knowing how to escape that which found them. They had passed on by. Things remained out of reach.

This time, something called to them in ways they could not understand, tugging at the dangling threads of part of them. A little pressure they had felt before.

... something else ...

Rocks slid by the hull of the vessel. Something scraped against her underside, not managing to breach the hull. She lurched beneath the cargo of souls aboard iher, rumbling and creaking disturbingly.

None of them really noticed - nor noticed the pair of fishermen on the sands not too far ahead. Nor did they notice the rocks jutting out of the surf. The rough shoreline ahead. In the distance, a tiny village.

It had been an eternity since the ship had been close to land.

...but this time...

Again the bottom of the ship scraped stone - and this time, sge did not simply pass by. Waterlogged wood groaned and strained, breaking only by some miracle - or perhaps something else. But the friction did its work. The ship slowed - and she slid up the rocks. Her bow thrust up from the water, jutting up onto the rugged spar sticking out from the sand.

From the beach, a pair of fishermen blinked at the ship before them. Large, long and lean, unlike any ship from Spira, ragged and beaten by untold years.

A ship with a name half-obscured by barnacles upon her bow.