War Forged 604: Not-So-Buried Treasure

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IT’S TEMPTING to complain about how much wandering he’s been doing as of late. The urge to drone on and on about how infuriatingly boring this trip had been never once left his mind, even if it annoyed him to bits to keep going. There was hardly an ache in his hooves, hardy as he was, but still he could find it in himself to complain about something. After all, long trips like this - with other horses he knew only in name and face - wore his patience thinner than the time spent by himself. One couldn’t easily sneak or flee if things grew tough.

At least, he sighed to himself, they had all pooled together to hire protection.

Sand began to intermingle with grass, giving way to an eventual shoreline roaring with the rumble of the ocean’s waves. Thick feathering on his hooves picked up unnecessary amounts of sand that flipped up against his furred legs. He has to resist flicking his tail more than usual in frustration, unnaturally conscious of how his fellow Forged might interpret the gesture. Thoughts wandered from his present situation to just how much grooming this journey will require later on, how much pampering he’s going to have to do just to make sure he keeps pristine and clean. Damn feathering, he knew he should have shaved before this journey. There’s a curl in his lips as he sneers to himself, lifting his head from his rather low-necked, sullied mood.

There’s only one thing that rips him from his thoughts. Miss-matched eyes glance upwards in time with the movement of his neck, thoroughly expecting a cargo ship filled with goods for purchase. However, upon catching the beach in his sight, he stops in his tracks, tensing his neck and lifting his ears high. There’s… there’s nothing. Where there should be a ship, there’s nothing. The dock’s a bit of a ways away, but there’s no ship.

Normally, he wouldn’t have worried - perhaps the ship’s just late. It wouldn’t be the first time some cargo he was meant to buy was behind schedule, although a whole ship? That’s odd. At least, it is until he sees a wave crash along the side of what appears to be a crate. The crate, in turn, is trailed by other rubbage - broken wood, soggy books, soiled goods. His gut twists, and Revelin, for the first time in his line of work, is left with an immediate sense of utter dread.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He pauses, then snorts in an attempt to release some of the knot in his belly. “At least this means we won’t have to pay for our goods.”

What a terrible thing to say. He has no remorse in saying it, however. Reality was harsh; why should he be any less?

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It’s unusual to bring children on such a voyage. That’s Revelin’s excuse for not interacting with the filly for such a time, anyways. He saw her at some point, having not caught on if she had snuck in or had been there from the beginning. Kids linger; he figured if anything, she would’ve just been a curious village kid passing by, but no. She was stuck to their little ragtag band like glue, and he’s not quite sure why anyone else let her come. Especially the apricot stallion, who seemed more than pleased to rudely stomp not only all over the sand, but over the young horse’s cheerfulness as well.

“I’m always a frowny face,” he muttered a bit too loud, rolling his eyes with a flick of his tail (the same one he fought so hard to hold back). “It’s what makes me oh-so charming and alluring.” He paused to the other two - Thormod and Killah - then forced a small smirk, “don’t you agree?”

After the moment of agitation, he stepped closer to the filly, taking note of her shark, “don’t let the adults get you down, kid. We’re just tired from walking on our hooves for so long. Especially that one, he looks practically grey in the hair already!” He laughed, then gave Calleigh a nudge in the flank with his nose. “But you need to be careful, alright? It’s dangerous out here, and we can’t always keep watch over you if something goes wrong.”

Worry gripped his stomach tightly at the mention of trouble. He could tell something would go wrong, or, well, not really tell. But he could feel it, the danger, the problems that could arise from such a frustratingly simple trip. Not only that, but there’s a ship - a whole entire ship - wrecked upon the beaches before them. With no sign of a crew or survivors, no bodies or blood, Revelin couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone had been there before them.

“Tell Mister Shark he’s in charge of keeping you safe,” he stood taller now, ears lifted and eyes running along the shoreline for bodies once more until something caught his eye, “and if everything gets too scary, I’ll keep you safe.”

There’s something moving down there, way down the way, and he can’t help but feel like it might be some sort of wildlife looking for scraps. Perhaps a bear? It looked big enough to be one. He stepped from her side and closer to the front of the group again, head tilting and eyes squinting. Killah’s mentioning something something spiral butt, which drew him from his focus and back to the other group.

“I have a name, you know.” Then, he turned to the rest of the group - more particularly, their hired hand, who might be one of the few who’d actually understand his concern. “We should probably keep our wits about us. You never know when wildlife will scavenge. There might also be Vagabond- you know,” he’s sure he’ll regret phrasing it like this later, but the words slip out before he can think to rephrase them, “the kind that aren’t useful.”

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Killiah sneared at the child's laughter, it voice making her skin crawl. How she hated the tiny spawn that ruined lives and relationships, she and her brother had destroyed their family... her mother and brother dying in child birth turned her father into a horrid thing. She dispised him and stomped a hoof just at the thought, however she was drawn from her disgust by Spiral butt, and flicked an ear in his direction as he attempted a small joke, "whatever ya say Spiral Butt" she retorted, using her teke to yank a large crate from the sand.

The water logged wood split at the sudden jerk and too her luck all its contents spilled across the sand, she greedily took up peices of broken jewelry and loose gem stones as well as any bits of scrap metal she could find. Pfft no one would buy any of that crap as it was but she had a way with metal and knew how to make a pretty little trinket or suit of armour that would make her an easy buck. She had gone along the beach and even managed to find a working air compressor for her forge when she was pulled away, eyes following those of her companions, "Strangers huh?..." she questioned slowly, scowling as Bertha swung dangerously at her side, "you sure as hell know it. I ain't letting some filthy low lives steal my valuables, Bertha will cut am up as soon as they try!", she was completely on board with the pearly stallions comments, even gaining a little respect for him because of his attitude, "Bertha hasn't seen blood since those griffins attacked me. She'll take some if they try anything"

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post: #2
WC: #289

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It’s not everyday you see some rather passive vagabonds. Or, well, at least this one, who seemed none too bothered by the fact there were herd merchants here for their pay. Revelin is quick to judge, sure, but he could also be swayed to change his mind just as quick as well. He stepped closer to the others, taking note of who was were before turning back to the young foal beside him.

“Well, Mister Shark- that’s his professional name, you know. Mister Shark, Sir Sharky of the Forge, will protect you, but he may need some of your help as well. Try not to get too close to the sea, and keep close to us grown-ups. We’ll back him up if his swords- does he use swords? Well, whatever he uses, we’ll give him extra boosted fight if things get too messy.”

He offered her a smile, then a playful nudge at her side near where the stuffed animal rested. His fear of her being swallowed whole by the waters eased as she followed him away, though a new worry of these possibly dangerous others filled the void instead. The last thing he wanted was to see a young one hurt, or possibly worse, during a skirmish. He gave a glance to Thormund and Taend, about to speak in agreement when he noticed one of the outsiders- the one who spoke up- was in a wheelchair. Would it have been too cruel of him to think a fight against him might be almost sad, at least in this sand?

“Well, while I would absolutely love dying for wreckage that might be worth my tail’s weight in gold,” he took a step forward, closer to the Bloody Flank, leg purposefully stuck in front of Calleigh’s body. The voice he spoke with dripped with only the finest sarcasm, “I also agree it might be more valuable to all of us to just let each other scavenge. I know I paid good profit for some of these things in here, but let’s be realistic at least: most of our good cargo is probably soggy and won’t sell for a hooves worth of gold anyways.”

He took another step forward, giving Kirsi a look of mild thanks (or perhaps it was appreciation) for her contribution back before looking at the stallion hefting things out with his net. Even if he was in a mobility aid, there certainly would be a terrible fuss if a fight broke out. Besides, who knew how dangerous he could really be. Such size and strength could make any stallion a force to be reckoned with, sand or no. He gave a glance to the stallion’s armed partner and pinned his ears, lips curling a bit in distaste.

“We should probably spend our time looking for useful things rather than trying to fight over it. Even if we have the greater number, I don’t feel like wasting my energy both fending off degenerates and trying to drag this mess across sand and land. So why don’t we make peace and just play nice until we absolutely have to, hmm?”

After all, his life (nor his precious coat) was worth risking over some rubbage, salvageable or no. He'd rather eat the cost than eat a blade, although it certainly would put him back a few months given the cost it took to just order this shit in the first place. While Revelin does not physically waver, he does mentally, taking a moment to reassess just how much it would take to just dispatch the two (a lot) and just take their items and go (also a lot. Too much. Far too much effort. Wasteful at best, deadly at worst). In his frustration, he glanced back at Callie, then looked at the intruders once again, allowing himself to vent such frustrations in a more productive way instead:

"Although if any harm comes to this child, I will not hold myself back from absolute carnage,” he stomped his right hoof solidly into the sand with a firm snort. “Do I make myself clear?”

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He snorted once in reply to the invader’s comment, squinting a bit as if to size him up. Honestly, perhaps he was being a bit too overprotective, a bit jumpy. Given the way some of the others reacted, however… Well, at least he hadn’t drawn his weapon yet.

There’s an eerie feeling that crawls up his spine when he hears the ocean part. Head drawn towards the phenomena in a slow movement, he almost can’t believe what he’s seeing. Cascade herself, offering up the wreckage to them? It’s not too far off from shore, but he’s never really dealt with the ocean before - not this close at least. There’s anxiety welling in his gut, until it registers what Callie said.

I’m a hippocampus!

Missmatched eyes are drawn to the sky, head tilted up as if to hope there’s someone there, perhaps staring down at them. Was she sad, the goddess? Or was this a test of their faith and willingness to behave? He had never really worshipped Cascade, perhaps a bit bitter that she would abandon one of her own much like Kaia seemed to. His friend, lost to Eithne, torn from her family by Kaia’s cruel rules. Perhaps this is Cascade attempting to get in his better graces, or maybe she’s simply sorry she couldn’t be the one to save her. Either way, he remembers how faithful his old friend was to the goddess. It would mean the world to her if he could live to tell the tale.

He looks back at the wreckage with a newfound anger before almost stomping after the young one. When he can’t catch up quick enough, he quickens his pace until he does, slowing back down to a walk before striding into the walls of water alongside Callie. His swimming wasn’t the strongest, but he’s decided to trust the goddess as an act of faith. A small prayer is sent out, asking for wisdom and guidance, as well as safety- not for himself, but for his loved one trapped within Eithne.

If the walls come down and he should have to fight to survive, well, that just adds another goddess to his scorn list. A second prayer is quietly murmured beneath his breath, one to Ayla: wind, guide my feet. Help me to be swift when danger comes, and help me save as many lives as I can in the process.

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