Ashur: Dominion O'er The Deep

[Cosmik 220]

- Southern Atheran waters, roughly 20 miles offshore - 

 

 

 

... weeds.

 

Shimmering grasslands beneath the waves, the fisherman had said that day. Their helixed, curved shape gave them a firm grip on the ocean floor. Could they be used as cord? Perhaps, the fisher had remarked with thinly-veiled mockery, if you took the time to cut it up and tie it all together.

 

But he had patience beyond measure. Endless days of weaving had wrought a net stretching twenty square feet. And today, he spread the web in the watery expanse between the large cliff and the small, for today was the day he would use it.

 

... bait.

 

Endless fish and fauna populated the ocean, and the uninitiated often jest at their frightened migrations and movements. "Where do they go? To their deaths, and not any less confused as they were before." But the wary learned that their simple brains demanded two things: to follow the ocean's currents wherever they may lead, and to eat anything found along the way.

 

He could not change the tides, but an abundance of food proved just as effective, and after some months, more and more fish began to travel inbetween the large cliff and the small, and today saw the arrival of dozens of schools, unknowingly passing over his net.

 

... spears.

 

The wood was hickory, and the barbs were bone. Everything was meticulously carved and crafted, no detail left amiss. The smallest flaw meant immediate smashing of the impure weapon, which happened more than he would care to admit. At length, however, two dozen spears were fashioned, after the ancient rituals of his people.

 

Today, he inspected the weaponry once more, as he did every day, and stored half within the bowels of his raft. The remaining dozen he took up in his arms as he approached the large cliff. A dozen matching barrels stood in formation along the edge of an outcropping, and he proceeded to tie a single spear to each barrel with a few feet of cord.

 

The preparations were complete, the sun slowly clawed above the eastern seas, and he threw himself before it, his voice roaring out across the waves.

 

"Vadonuk Motshami, parmuurzuman mubi latz raudauta! Hear my cries, Ankrus! Spirit of the Sea!

 

My sins are beyond measure, and I am removed from your presence! My people lie scattered like sands of the tide! Surely I am not worthy of my bloodline, but still, you offer redemption! Your mercy knows no bounds!

 

Today, I purify myself by Baptism of the Beast, and right my countless wrongs! All for you, Ankrus! Bless my holy harvest!"

 

And not moments later, his months of preparation were rewarded.

 

 

Ashur, the Traitor Prince of Laurelin, smiled as his bounty drew closer.

 

(to be concluded)

[Cosmik 220]

(reserved)

[Huh 91]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.