[Sir'ame Trial] Stranded by the Tide

[Royal Peasant 445]

Stranded By The Tides

 

Spoiler

 

 

Journal Entry One
If this was going to be a trial, I felt it needed to be a terrain I haven't been in for a long time to hold an experience in. So I could gain the experience and learn from it. After pondering for a time I recalled a place nestled within the sea, and the thought came to me. Why not take the time to experience what it’s like living out in the ocean? To learn of the life one holds when they are lost outside of their realm, and have time to adapt? It shall be an experience for certain! Though I admit I didn’t head out there empty handed, I brought my tools for crafts, to work on a project I had while out there. A bucket, for it is a precious item that is so very useful. Some flint and steel, and a fishing rod. Perhaps this is a little more prepared than I was meant to be for this trial, but as no limits had been set I felt some simple tools for this long month and something to work on while out here

Finishing etching the first entry into his journal Roylan glanced around his surroundings. The splashing waves flowing against the sandy shore of the small island that he was sitting upon. The grassy patches behind him leading to towering spears of stone that made him curiously glance up to them. Pondering how the mountain could have naturally formed in such a way. “The wear of time from crashing waves?” He mused to himself, pondering for a moment under the blazing heat as the straw hat on his head kept the sun from burning ever so hotly against his skin. He reminded himself to thank Miven next time he saw them as he turned to his items, fetching the fishing rod and sending the fishing line out into the waters. “But first, breakfast!”

  Journey Entry Two
An issue aroused my attention easily, something that I didn’t even need to worry about in the Rimveld, for there were always branches and twigs that had been pulled from trees by the snow storms that could be found and collected. And that was my ability to create a fire here. There is nothing that can be used to create a fire on this island, and I find that the sea water is undrinkable. Which means that my ability to gather water has also been crippled. Perhaps I can drink the blood from the fish if all else fails? Though I do not know if that would work. The fish at least I could eat raw, the scales collected, and the bones gathered for potential use. The rest I buried within the green patches of land to give nutrients to the plant life here. I need to think of a plan if I am going to survive here.

The highlander felt the chill of danger of his choice as he gazed around the land around him. Realizing the sheer threat that a land like this could for the first time. His plans for creativity melted away and settled into a more hardened state of ‘Survival’ as his eyes swept over the surroundings around him. To the island that was his home for a month as his mind raced. What could he do for water? What could he do to survive? “What to do…what to do…”

Journal Entry Four
Eureka! I didn’t even know what that sound means, but it's how I’m feeling! My eyes. My eyes saw what I needed to see. Giving me inspiration. Sure, I have shredded up the cloth I wore, but that doesn’t matter! The fish. They held water. The eyes against my teeth. The spines cracked my jaws and slurped out. I can have water!

A delirious fluck of emotions poured through his mind, poured through his heart and body as he laughed while almost manickly etching the words into the journal. Three days with no water, three days only eating soft white flesh of fish. Only to realize that he had missed a source of that was right before him!

Journal Entry Five
The previous two days have been..enlightening, though it’s good to have regained clarity instead of the crazed state I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into. I can barely believe that one of the answers never crossed my mind, yet it was right in front of me. And here I had been creating bowls with the cloth of garb, the scales of the fish, and their bones. Scattering them around in hopes that they would collect rain should it come along with the bucket I had brought. Yet the rain has yet to come. Calmer now, I can plan ahead on this stranded island. The hunt for now shall guide me here.

Roylan sat as his eyes glanced at the collection of bowls and buckets that glistened under the sun as they rested upon the stony walls of the spires around them. He had a plan in mind, he had water, enough to survive. “The hunt…I’m always guided back to the hunt aren't I?” With a calm mind he chuckled and picked up his rod, moving back to the waters edge as he let the hook fly out towards the waters.

Journal Entry Eight
Rain had come, increasing my supplies of water by quite a degree. Surprisingly the waves have washed to shore pieces of wood and shells that I can make use of out here, which I fashioned into a spear with the shell acting as the ‘piercing’ tip. Hunting fish has become easier now that I can venture into the waters myself to hunt. Though I did learn one thing while diving into the waters, blood attracts sharks. Not something I had known before one had taken a bite into my leg. More surprising was the fact that a single punch to the snout was enough to make the shark let go and flee into the waters. I’d have to guess that these predators are not used to having resistance in their hunts. Either that or their snout is a weak spot. A good thing to remember for future encounters, though there is no need to hunt such a large beast for a single man. It would be a waste and an act of greed.  Though for now it's the shoreline while my leg recovers.

With those words said the man winced for a moment, his eyes glancing down to his leg that was wrapped up in what remained of his cloth. Using it as a bandage to staunch the wound as he could still feel the sharp sting of the shredded shark teeth against his leg. The pain spiking as he attempted to move his leg and felt a tremble aching through it. “Well I ain’t gonna be working right for a while am I?” Using the spear he had created he stabbed the butt of it into the sands and hoisted himself back to his feet. Limping over to his bowls to collect his water for the day.

Journal Entry Ten
The sting on my leg has grown less, though I am still limping now. But with time on my hands I have started to take time in craft. The bowls I made to collect water have been improved, and added upon. Patterns of the rather enchanting luna sky and the glistening patterns of stars have been added to the bowls using scales, sand, shells and stone. Trying to keep the pattern of the skies that I have witnessed as they have changed captured upon the bowls during my stay here, while engraving the vision of the shark that had caught me within the water along the length of the spear I have been wielding. It brings a certain touch of comfort, and clarity to me to work on crafts like this nowadays. Etching experiences, feelings, and memories into place that will tell their own tale in time.

The man wrote down, using the blood of the fish as ink upon the pages as he recalled the memories of his feelings through the act, through the creation and decorations he had placed upon the creations of his within this stranded island. Yet, he made sure it was only on the items themselves he had made. He never tried to score memories upon the stone mountain, to score the land with memories of his existence. Only letting his creative spirit move upon what he had made, and what he had brought with him.

Journal Entry Fourteen
With the hot blazing sun gazing down over the island, I have noticed that patches of grass seem to die out and dry under the heat, with new grass growing underneath it. Carefully, not wanting to take away too much that the grass in this island uses to fertilize itself, I’ve been collecting threads and pieces of the grass, gathering them up together. Creating a fire to sterilize the water allowed me to have a fresh drink and clean my leg,  washing the healing wound and with what was left over of the threads, a protective covering to help shade from the burning sun. Which makes my stay here more comfortable, I will admit.     
    
With the ever present blaze of the blistering sun turning his skin red and building up an unwanted tan upon his body, he found himself relieved under the soothing shade he had managed to create after staying upon the island for half a month. His eyes sweep over the experience as his mind looks back, and reflects on what he had learnt here. The lessons that nature had gifted him, learning of survival, and yet still able to take in the beauty of the place and the nature that filled them. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience, that much he could admit despite the hardships. “I could have done without being bitten by a shark though..” He muses to himself.

Journal Entry Seventeen
A storm swept over the ocean and I experienced what it's like on this sole island within the middle of the sea when a storm hits. The waves that crashed against the island threatened to sweep everything away into the ocean rolling waves. With little in the way of options or shelter I grabbed what I could carry and put it on my body before climbing up the great spires, pulling myself up to the top of the rocky spires as the waves swept everything away below. Many of my bowls were carried away into the ocean, the boat I had arrived here having been swept away and carried off into the water. I was now fully stranded here until I managed to make some kind of craft to help me ferry myself along the waters. How long will it take for driftwood to be carried along the waters to the beach I wonder?

Hiding within the tall pillars that rose up, he gazed down and watched the rolling waves that swept over the land, that crashed against the sandy shores and swept over the pillars that were below him. Washing through them and spilling out onto the other side. The glistening bowls he had carefully made started to be washed away, With only one resting with his bucket as he saw the waters of nature reclaiming everything in a simple action. His boat rose with the waters, with the storm, and pulled away into the distance as he watched on. Considering what he was going to add to his journal as he watched on through the dark skies, and the crackling flash of lighting sparking across it.   
 
Journal Entry Twenty
The storm had finally passed and I have weathered the downpour, and the heavy crashing waves without being stolen away by the water. Though I can’t deny that I am exhausted right now after everything. I have barely slept as falling asleep risked falling from the stones into the sweeping waters below, where I doubt I would have been able to survive for long: Either swept across the rocks or drowned within the storm itself. It was a perilous few days, thankfully finding fish to eat and water was easy with the waters carrying them by. So I had no risk of threat from them. But right now, I need to rest. Before the weight on my shoulders drag me under.

The shattered man etched the last words in with a trail off the end as he took a deep breath, now back upon the sandy shores as the glistening glow of the sun shined down upon him from above. With a single glance up he grasped the tattered shade protection he had made, now waterlogged and soaked, and carefully pulled it over himself as he fell into the sands in a dead faint.

Journal Entry Twenty Two
Refreshed, dry, and no longer feeling like the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders, I have begun to prepare for my departure from the island. Gathering what driftwood I could find and gathering the dried grass to turn into twine to bind the wood together. It's a slow progress, especially with me needing to rely on waves to bring the wood to me. But I am hoping that  I will be ready for when the time comes. Though I might go over the time I had planned to spend on the island, there's nothing wrong with that. I will just need to be patient.

With a relaxed mind he glanced over to the two pieces of driftwood he had managed to gather. The small bush of dried grass rested together before he reached out and grasped at the grass. Slowly starting to work the pieces together within his hand as he worked to create twine, rope. A simple binding that he would be able to use to collect the pieces together.

Journal Entry Twenty Five
There’s only been a single piece of driftwood that has arrived so far, so I am rather certain that I will go the planned time that I had set for myself. Thankfully with the storm having passed the sands of the beach had been littered with debris of many different kinds which kept me busy. From stones, metals, to shells and battered creatures that the waters had been unkind too. The flesh of the crabs, the meat of the fish, along with their eyes and shells were all gathered together for use. While the parts I didn’t use were added into the soil for the grassy patches of this small island to help the plants grow here. What might be even more surprising was the fact that nature didn’t seem affected by the storms at all that crashed through it, the grass still thriving without issue. They’re resilient, I'll give them that.

Roylan glanced over to the debris that he had gathered together after cleaning the beach, not wanting it to pollute the sands and affect any life that travelled along the sands here like his beloved hermit crabs. Pondering for a moment what to do with it all. Especially not wanting to throw it back into the ocean. His eyes gazed upon them for a good long moment as his mind raced with possibilities.

Journal Entry Twenty Seven
I had a surprise visitor appearing at the island once more. It was a shark again, though this time they didn’t seem too interested in hunting me as we went through the waters together. Perhaps it was due to the fact that there was no blood in the waters? The shark just swam on, unphased by my presence within the waters. The dolphin that followed after however was quite persistent in spending time with me. So much so that I ended up riding the waters with them for a time before I found myself back on shore. It was a child-like experience I had not been expecting. Reminding me of youth with its almost innocent actions. As for all the debris I had gathered, I found a use for it. Combined the pieces together to form a monstrous, and rather ugly looking raft. One that truly shouldn’t exist, at least from view alone. It did however function by floating despite itself. Strangely this isn’t the first time I’ve made something combined with many different elements. Though I would say this is much uglier than my personal armour.

He turned his head and looked upon the raft, the battered raft that was made of different pieces of wood tied together. The shells, the shrapnel, the general junk and floating pieces of cloth tied together into a hazardous and scarred raft that looked as though it had just come straight out of a nightmare. Yet. It was floating within water. It was functional. It filled the roll it was needed and the scrap and pieces were put to use, instead of made to waste.

Journal Entry Thirty
The final day of the trial, at least planned. I look back on this month where I have learnt the dangers of going out into the sea, and what you can do to survive within the dangerous nature of the sea when you don’t have the resources with you. I have created crafts to mark the memories of my time here, some which were lost by the waves, while others are still with me in the form of my shell spear with a shark engraved pattern,  a single fish bowl with decorations of the moon in full lustre, and the raft. Crafted from debris that was scattered along the beach after the storm to make use of it while cleaning up the beach. I have learned how to survive while being stranded at sea, through a willing experience. Gained a new experience through a fault and danger I wasn’t aware of. And held some happy, innocent memories that brushed my mind. I look back to the island, and all marks that I was ever here now rest upon my raft, ready to leave with me. 

With his supplies, or what was left of them added into the raft, his eyes swept back over the island, seeing the glistening shine of the moon filling the air and peeking over the twin spears of the island he was resting on. A final scene, a final memory to fill his mind. With a push of the raft into the waters he climbed on and began on his way. Back to the land, back to the den he had been away from for so long.   

Edited December 21, 2021 by Royal Peasant