THE EXPEDITION OF ATTENLUND: I - The First Voyage, 371 E.S.

[TheIchorDruid 1705]

[!] A painted scene of Eos parting from the Haenseni docks upon her voyage to Attenlund.

The sounds of clambering steps hammered upon the docks of Karosgrad, a pallet of features both natives of Hanseti-Ruska and foreigners littered the docks and keen eyes fixated upon the dual vessels of Eos and Ms Mariana. Chorus’ of excitable voices and the weeping of sorrowful wives basked in the atmosphere, yet the mind of the young Gwynevere remained far too distracted. 

 

For this voyage was a first, the first she’d be shouldering as a Captain and the first her vessel  would carry out. An abnormal amount of nerves riddled her, a near constant nagging upon her mind. Even amongst the chimes of the bustling populace about her, she could not find a relief. 

 

“Yer’ will be fine lass, nothin’ t’ worry about.” A gruff voice rumbled from behind the trembling youth and in due time a broad palm clamped upon her shoulder, rousing her fleeting attention toward Hareven.

“Da, da. Just first time nerves.. With being responsible for so many people, what if something is to happen Mr Lorenthus and I’m niet ready?” Gwynevere murmured with a quiet sigh, peering upwardly toward the features of the man - brows still creased with concern. 

 

Hareven simply sounded a laugh, large arms drawing the small woman into a bear hug and simply shook his head “You are a smart lass, Gwynie - just keep forward aye?”

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

The process of hauling cargo and crew upon Eos happened in a great blurr, it was in reality an hour of labouring and rambled organization - though for Gwynevere it felt like a matter of seconds before she was thrusted in front of the wheel of her grand vessel and looked upon to commence the month’s travel to the eastern lands of Attenlund.
 

A sharp breath caught upon the back of her throat whilst gloved palms ventured to grasp around the wheel of Eos, though for now the Captain Kasparov would have to swallow her fright and see a confidence instilled to safely see the accompanying populace docked.

 

“Lower the sails!” She bellowed with a laboured breath, attempting to draw audability over the whistling winds.

“Aye, Captain!” Ser Hildebrand offered in acknowledgement, thrusting his weight toward the mainsail, devoutly setting to fiddle with the ropes with the aid of Rylleah whom sought to properly lower the rear sails. 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

The month’s sailing was quaint, the waters had treated Eos and Ms Marianna well, the winds biting at their sails and driving each vessel in a stable forward momentum. Spirits of both crews were high, that month’s time spent in excitement and merriment, sharing drinks or stories alike amongst one another. 

It remained such a way, joys preserved until the calling of a voice bellowed.

“Land! I see the land Captain!” The voice of the young Sergei Othaman called from the peaks of Eos’ crow’s nest, a true thrill maintained from that shout. 

 

Davli Goldhand was the next to call, his small frame boarding the nose of Eos, a finger thrusting toward the ever forming horizons ahead “Aye! Ah see t’ land, Attenlund!”

 

Gwynevere released a raspy breath of relief, a momentary forming hope that her responsibility had been fulfilled, the crews had safely peaked the shores of Attenlund with little issue or even a wilt of conflict. Most rejoiced, yet for her - she found it all too good to be true, this success simply fed her anxieties once more. 

 

“D-Dobry, raise the masts and lower the anchors!” Captain Kasparov announced, muttering a silent prayer and wrestling with the wheel of the vessel once more - angling Eos beside Ms Marianna to slowly begin their final approach toward the shores.

 

Yet, that joy was, as predicted, short lived. Amongst the restless waves of the Attenlund oceans, colossal boulders rapidly appeared from the lands - thrusted onward toward the unsuspecting vessels. There was no time granted to the crews to fully prepare for the assault, simply permitted to watch each boulder collide against the base of Ms Marianna. The last narrowly missing Eos.

 

“Prepare! Ms Marianna has been hit!” Fionn’s desperate voice shrilled amongst the roaring winds, barely audible between the two ships. 

 

Each member present on the ships cluttered against the decks, bracing for further impacts as the waves simply ravaged the underbelly of the ships. But, as quickly as each member was rendered to the ground, they rose. 

 

The process was hasty, Eos and Marianna both angled leftward to avoid the frontal approach to the lands, instead directed by the rolling waves to the outskirts of the shores instead - deeming them a lucky anchoring. 

 

“I called it.. Knew something was bound to happen!” Gusiam Jusmia chided quietly, positioning himself against the railing of Eos and finding his footing once more from the prior thrashing of the vessel. 

 

“Aye, that you did.” Gwynevere began, slumping herself in an exhausted manner over the wheel of her ship - eyes drawing to a close as she comprehended the assault they had been blessed to have avoided. “Ser Hildebrand, assort the fighters from the healers. Scout the shores and assure all is safe. Healers remain on Eos.”

 

Thus the action began, able bodied fighters brandished their weapons and valiantly followed Ser Hildebrand unto the western shorelines - most unsuspecting to what was to come.

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

As the warriors set their footing upon the shores of Attenlund, they were welcomed with a beastly roar - a noise so invoking it sent the nearby avians to the skies, a chorus of discontent chirps. Before them stood two towering statures of Trolls, a massive mace held within the palm of one and a large blade within the palm of the other. 

 

“Warmies! Mi am gonna Klomp yuh!” One of them snarled, rearing that ghastly weapon and shortly began swinging toward the collection of warriors.

 

From there a mighty battle ensued between warriors and Trolls alike, it was a grizzly one. An assortment of wounding granted to either side, from an exchange of blows and cannon fire - two of the three were shortly slain.

Those present could manage a small breath of relief and utter a silent prayer to their GOD, yet all was not fruitful, for one had managed to escape beneath their noses.

[Milenkhov 4620]

Beautiful imagery and read, looking forward to observe how the tales unfold in the upcoming weeks!