Eye on the Prize
“Mmm… salty,” thought Okaanen, chugging back the briny-looking potion. He had rowed a small dingy out from the port of Craysilt to this small water-logged cove. With insufficient clearance to pilot his vessel inside, he popped the potion lid and waited to feel the effects.
His chest felt light. He felt like he needed to belch, but nothing came up. “That must be the sign,” he muttered. He dove into the nearly black water. The dark vision granted by his bestial heritage helped him avoid the sharp rocks in the narrow underwater entrance.
As he climbed out of the water some few hundred metres from his boat, he hunched down, squatting, and let his beast blood boil within him. His large but still partially human head grew long whiskers, ears lengthened to points, and nostrils flared. The water poured off his nearly nude body until the dripping slowed and then stopped. Nothing immediately caught his attention. He listened, smelled the air, and peered through the darkness.
“What was I supposed to be looking for?” Oak contemplated. The King’s Hand had given him vague instructions in the fancy envelope delivered to his jail cell. He paused to remember the contents of the letter.
Okaanen Mistveil,
You are currently serving your second of a ten-year sentence for piracy, larceny, murder, and attempted murder, as well as suspicion in the deaths of 3 other sailors. However, once again, and against my judgment, the King would show you amnesty in exchange for your services. Upon verbally accepting this contract, you must travel to Deadman’s Cove and recover an item stolen from the King’s private collection. You will know the object when you see it.
Signed, the King’s Hand
Okaanen focused and gathered in his surroundings: a small cavern, perhaps 30 by 30 feet. Small stalactites and stalagmites obscured his vision, and the smell of rotting fish flooded his nose. But his sense of hearing did not fail him. The sound of raspy breathing was coming from nearby… right behind him!
A searing pain shocked him as something with claws raked him in the back. He snarled, whipped around and felt his adrenaline fire up, his rage numbing the pain. In front of him stood an ugly.. woman? Slimy skin, glassy eyes, and hair that looked like seaweed. She licked his blood off her claws and screamed, “Get out, you filth!” Okaanen shook his head and quickly yanked his great sword from the harness on his back. An immense swing and the creature’s left arm was gone. Black blood spurted out, and a hideous shriek accompanied the wet thud of the arm on the slick cave floor. “Oh, you’ll PAY for that, you stupid wannabe lycanthrope!”
The creature shot Okaanen with a glare that made his blood run cold. Some magic effect. Hurriedly, he backed away up to a cave wall and gritted his sharp teeth together. He glanced around and saw a large jewellery box that would house a large necklace or brooch.
He swung his sword at the creature and caught it under the ribs. More ichor poured from the wound, but Okaanen felt more frightened than he had been since he was a child running from a displacer beast in the jungle. He dashed around a column of rock, grabbed the jewellery box, and then launched himself off the nearby wall into the water and swam back for the dingy.
He poured all his remaining strength into paddling the boat back into port with the safety of a bustling crowd nearby. He opened the box.
A single, varnished eyeball stared back at him.
His chest felt light. He felt like he needed to belch, but nothing came up. “That must be the sign,” he muttered. He dove into the nearly black water. The dark vision granted by his bestial heritage helped him avoid the sharp rocks in the narrow underwater entrance.
As he climbed out of the water some few hundred metres from his boat, he hunched down, squatting, and let his beast blood boil within him. His large but still partially human head grew long whiskers, ears lengthened to points, and nostrils flared. The water poured off his nearly nude body until the dripping slowed and then stopped. Nothing immediately caught his attention. He listened, smelled the air, and peered through the darkness.
“What was I supposed to be looking for?” Oak contemplated. The King’s Hand had given him vague instructions in the fancy envelope delivered to his jail cell. He paused to remember the contents of the letter.
Okaanen Mistveil,
You are currently serving your second of a ten-year sentence for piracy, larceny, murder, and attempted murder, as well as suspicion in the deaths of 3 other sailors. However, once again, and against my judgment, the King would show you amnesty in exchange for your services. Upon verbally accepting this contract, you must travel to Deadman’s Cove and recover an item stolen from the King’s private collection. You will know the object when you see it.
Signed, the King’s Hand
Okaanen focused and gathered in his surroundings: a small cavern, perhaps 30 by 30 feet. Small stalactites and stalagmites obscured his vision, and the smell of rotting fish flooded his nose. But his sense of hearing did not fail him. The sound of raspy breathing was coming from nearby… right behind him!
A searing pain shocked him as something with claws raked him in the back. He snarled, whipped around and felt his adrenaline fire up, his rage numbing the pain. In front of him stood an ugly.. woman? Slimy skin, glassy eyes, and hair that looked like seaweed. She licked his blood off her claws and screamed, “Get out, you filth!” Okaanen shook his head and quickly yanked his great sword from the harness on his back. An immense swing and the creature’s left arm was gone. Black blood spurted out, and a hideous shriek accompanied the wet thud of the arm on the slick cave floor. “Oh, you’ll PAY for that, you stupid wannabe lycanthrope!”
The creature shot Okaanen with a glare that made his blood run cold. Some magic effect. Hurriedly, he backed away up to a cave wall and gritted his sharp teeth together. He glanced around and saw a large jewellery box that would house a large necklace or brooch.
He swung his sword at the creature and caught it under the ribs. More ichor poured from the wound, but Okaanen felt more frightened than he had been since he was a child running from a displacer beast in the jungle. He dashed around a column of rock, grabbed the jewellery box, and then launched himself off the nearby wall into the water and swam back for the dingy.
He poured all his remaining strength into paddling the boat back into port with the safety of a bustling crowd nearby. He opened the box.
A single, varnished eyeball stared back at him.
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