Crimson Waves and White Sails
By Commentaholic
A/N: Well, here I was, sitting one evening; when all of a sudden, the inspiration for a tale of peril on the high seas struck me. I apologize if I am departing from someone's expectations. The Fall of Lord Kelvyn is one of my favorite things I've done recently, and has gotten me through many a dull weekend. But I must follow the muse, wherever it takes me.
Prologue: The Wave Dancer's Final Steps
The salty spray stung Tujeela's gaping wounds, bringing her roughly back from her pain-induced stupor. She painfully eased her head up off of the piece of the wooden deckboards she'd managed to cling to while The Wave Dancer had tumbled through the writhing ocean. The Argonian had barely escaped with her life.
The sun shone mercilessly down upon the injured figure, glaring off the green scales that hadn't been scraped off during the havoc that had sunk The Wave Dancer.
The Wave Dancer was a beautiful galleon, and home to the 200 sailors that maintained the ship. That is, they had, until the recent catastrophe.
Looking about wearily, Tujeela looked in vain to see any survivors who had survived the sudden upheaval. None were to be found. She let her head drop back onto the soggy boards that comprised her liferaft. Tujeela tried to piece together what had happened.
It had been a normal cargo trip starting out from Anvil, sailing along the southern coast, and arriving at the Khajiit port city of Ri'Jhardi. On the 12th day asea, everything had seemed to be fine: clear weather, a strong southward breeze; perfect conditions for The Wave Dancer.
Around 6th bell, when the crew was between shift rotations, the ship had suddenly snapped hard to starboard, tilting the bow into the air. Their Nord Captain, Anja Swift-Sailer, had staggered out of her cabin, Tujeela close after her. The Argonian had only recently been hired on as the ship's navigator, and had been discussing their route with the Captain when all hell had broken loose, the sextant, maps, and compass had been pitched onto the floor by the violent upheaval.
"What in the name of Azura's going on out here?" Anja yelled, "Did we hit something?"
"No, Captain, there's nothing to be seen anywhere!" the Khajiit in the crow's nest, Sha'karza, at least that's what Tujeela thought his name was, called down to the Nord far below. The Khajiit suddenly lurched against the wall of the crow's nest as the ship was thrown hard to port, causing the crew to tumble to the decks. Anja was the first on her feet, rushing to the railing to peer over the side at the roiling waves. Tujeela looked up in time to see the Nord plucked from the ship by a long, dark tentacle. As Anja was thrashed about, cursing, Tujeela could only watch in horror.
A massive, black-scaled serpent rose from the ocean, twisting to look at the writhing Captain Anja. The Nord's steel cutlass skittered off the dark scales that encased the long, twisting appendage. A massive eye lazily focused on the vicious woman, almost as one would look at a slightly annoying insect. The tentacle shook vigorously, as did the ship, and Tujeela heard the splintering of wooden spars down below, accompanied by screams, as she fell to the floor. She also heard a snap from above. The green-scaled Argonian looked up to see the brave Captain Anja Swift-Sailer limply hanging in the tentacle's grasp, her cutlass slipping from her fingers as her head lolled backwards.
Tujeela only had moments to register the Captain's death before the entire deck pitched again, and a massive crack appeared in the wooden planks. Up through the crack rose countless black appendages, which sought out the various members of the crew. The sailors fought valiantly against the questing black tendrils, but to no avail. Not a single slash from the many glittering blades could make a single mark upon the creature's hide. Tujeela was fending off an advancing tentacle when suddenly she had been struck from behind by a toppling timber from above.
Tujeela couldn't quite remember what had come next, not clearly anyway. All she remembered was the sound of splintering wood, the sound of water crashing onto the deck, and the agonized screams of her crewmates. Apparently, in her daze, she had managed to cling to a piece of the deck that had miraculously evaded destruction. She didn't know why she still lived, why such a monstrosity would even allow survivors, but Tujeela wasn't one to question good fortune. She had to get back to Anvil; she had to warn the outbound ships away from this region.
The Argonian floated upon the rolling waves for what seemed like days. Dehydration set in, despite the Argonian's natural tendencies to be able to live underwater; the abilities did not allow consumption of the salty brine of the ocean. The days began to blur together, and Tujeela began to believe that she would die out here, in the ocean she had called home for about 10 years.
2 weeks later, another cargo freighter stumbled upon a floating piece of driftwood, a dead Argonian lay upon it. The Captain of the vessel wondered what the Argonian had been doing out here until he noticed a scroll made of the Argonian's own clothing. He knelt down, retrieving it from the cold, limp form. Unfurling it, he could find only 4 words: Beware the Black Leviathan.
A/N: Well, perhaps it didn't work out as long as I intended…
BUT, it's the beginning of a whole new story. How did I do on the whole seafaring idea? This is my first sea-combat or even nautical story, so I'd like input.