<6> Carl couldn’t get out of there fast enough. There were no signs of Thora anywhere as he burst back on deck, though his presence alone appeared to surprise much of the bustling crew. The late morning sky had darkened considerably since he’d been taken for his reprimanding. “KRIG! KRIG!” “Not tha time, lad!” returned the dwarf from across the deck. The yellow-bearded dwarf tugged furiously on a thick rope as he and the rest of the crew busied themselves in helping fold the sails. “We be headin’ inter a damned squall’re somesuch!” Indeed, the winds were quickly growing stronger as the main mast shuddered against it. “But the weather-” “Don’ ye think I know how storms work!?” the dwarf cocked off as he tied off the rope and stomped Carl’s way. “Ain’t no reasonin’ behind this one! Save yer problems, we got to ready tha ship, or we all be goin’ overboard!” No sooner did the words leave the yellow-bearded dwarf than a massive wave hurtled into the ship’s starboard side. Cries rang out across the deck as one and all desperately grabbed at whatever was nearest. Some were more successful than others, and the unluckiest few were immediately tossed over the port side into the churning seas. Wood creaked and broke against the raging wave, only for a second to almost instantaneously flood through the ship’s breach. Carl could only watch as a towering wave overshadowed the entire ship, then flatten the vessel like a titanic blanket. The warlock saw only darkness. * * * * * Strangely enough, pleasant warmth was the first thing Carl noticed when consciousness returned to his prone form. His eyes flitted open to the sight of a perfectly clear sky and a searing hot sun. The gentle sound of the sea met his ears, as did the push and pull of the waves from his waist down. A pained groan escaped him as he uprighted himself to stare out at the still-churning ocean. Gritty sand worked its way into every crevasse as he righted himself. His robes were such a tattered, waterlogged mess that they practically fell in ribbons from his body as he stood. His modesty was far from his mind, however, as he realized how much splintered wood had followed him to shore. Bits of cargo and timbers littered the beach, though there were no immediate signs of other members of the crew. Carl swallowed nervously as he began to step carefully through the wreckage. “Hello?” he called through the crashing water, but he was met with naught but the ocean’s swell. From the corner of his eye, however, a sharp glint caught the sunlight. The warlock bent over to scoop up none other than Thora’s silver pocket watch. “Nooooo!” a sudden cry echoed above the din. Carl’s head jerked along the wreck-strewn beach, and as quick as he could he weaved his way between ship shards to find a shuddering Jexon above a prone, unresponsive Thora, both of them in their worgen forms. The ocean had stripped them both of their clothes as well, and Jexon’s palms rhythmically pushed sharply down onto Thora’s chest, desperately trying to revive her. “Stop!” Carl cried out suddenly and darted over… only for Jexon to whirl his way and bare his teeth at the cabin boy. “Don’t touch her!” the worgen rumbled and growled defensively. Carl struggled not to shy away. “I can save her! Let me through!” Jexon’s gaze lost its intensity almost immediately, and without a word he shifted to one side. Carl wasted no time in diving next to her as he raised his hands above her belly. Demonic words left his lips, and a purple glow soon coalesced between his palms. The energies swirled into the shape of a perfectly spherical soulstone, which he immediately shoved down into the captain’s gut. Almost instantaneously, Thora’s eyes shot open, and a vicious growl left her before spewing up an alarming gout of salty sea water. Jexon’s clawed hands protectively went to hold her by the shoulders as she uprighted herself and let out cough after raspy cough to empty her lungs. “Easy,” Jexon uttered as he drew his arms tighter around his sister’s shoulders from behind. “You’re safe.” Thora’s heavy breathing steadily dried out, and for a long moment she let her gaze drift from the sand, to the wreckage of the ship, then up to Jexon. “But… the Crimson Spear….” Jexon squeezed his sister all the tighter. “Gone, but we are still here.” The captain shook her canine head before planting it into her pawed palms. “By the Light….” The male worgen looked up to regard Carl with a sympathetic look. “You have my thanks, but… we need some space for the time being. Look for the rest of the crew, and we will come find you when we are able. That’s an order.” Carl let out an exasperated sigh before waving one hand and turning away, adding, “Yeah, yeah,” before disappearing among the wreckage. Thora remained motionless as silent minutes passed under the searing sun. All Jexon could do was hold his sister as she grappled with the realization of having had her ship and crew swept from her grasp. Finally, a sharp exhale left her as she pried her head from her hands. Her expression was stoic as she clambered to her feet and stood tall before striding off inland where greenery and shade were in sight. “Go get the boy and gather the supplies we can from the wreckage. Find me at the shelter.” Jexon watched her go in confusion. “What shelter?” A feral growl escaped Thora, though her stride did not break as she roared, “THE ONE I’M GONNA FUCKING BUILD!”