Hunt for the Hallowed Jhen
A puff of smoke floated lazily from the top of the man's pipe. The pipe, made from the hollowed-out horn of a kelbi, sat in the edge of his mouth, held in place by his age-yellowed teeth. His eyes, though they carried the weight of many a year, looked keenly around the tavern, glancing occasionally near the place's entrance whenever someone entered. He himself sat near the establishment's back, alone at a table few ever sat at.
A light gray cloak enshrouded his form from the neck down, only his arms and head visible. His arms themselves were clad in matching gauntlets, black as night and sleek as shadows. They were crossed on the table that he sat hunched over. A single tankard, long since emptied, was his only company. That suited him just fine.
Another white ball of smoke rose from his pipe, drifting past his hair of the same color and dissipated in the air above.
He leaned back in his chair, placing his pipe on the table, as sleep took him.
A man with black hair and blazing eyes stood at the helm of his ship. It slid through a literal sea of sand, the silky and thin granules forming an ocean as far as one could see, illuminated by the pale moon that hung far above. The man, whose striking black armor contrasted the silvery moon sharply, turned and marched back down to the main body of the ship. Another man, younger and wearing simple steel armor, rushed to him, crimson hair blowing in the breeze.
"See anything?" he questioned enthusiastically.
"No. Not a single thing." the ebon-clad man replied. Disappointment showed prominently in his deep voice. "Not a damned tusk or tail of a Jhen Mohran."
The younger man placed his hand to his chin and rubbed his reddish stubble. He was obviously perplexed.
"That can't be right." He began pacing back and forth, still thinking deeply. "Koby said that he sensed one out here. His predictions were always reliable…"
"Maybe the kid's not as good a foreteller as we thought he was." The man suggested.
"I don't know about that, Neil." the younger one stated, stopping his pacing. "We even got a report from Makoto Takamisaki!"
"Makoto Takamisaki?" Neil laughed, "The crazy Delex fisherman? Half the time he's drunk, and the other half he's too hung over to think properly!"
Just as Neil finished his sentence, a low, rumbling cry rang through the Great Desert. Men began to emerge from the lower deck, perplexed by the mysterious sound. The two already there stood frozen in place, shocked.
"Something's not right." Neil spoke through gritted teeth, "That doesn't sound like a Jhen should." His voice was mottled with uncertainty-fuelled fear.
Another of the cries rang out. One of the men from the lower decks turned to the sound and screamed.
From the loose sand surrounding the hunting ship, a behemoth encrusted with purple crystals slid. Akin to a gigantic whale with two enormous, pointed pillars for tusks, the gems on its back shimmered in the cold moonlight. In one speeding motion, the monster dove from the sand at the ship, mouth open, shrieking as if possessed.
Neil, shaken from his fear by concern for the lives of his men, sprinted to the other side of the ship and raised a tool similar to a blunt pickaxe above his head. Just as he was about to bring it down on the metallic drum that was connected to an ear-piercingly-loud gong, the thing struck first.
The sound of wood snapping and cries of despair were drowned by the beast's shrill roar of victory. The ship was ripped in two as men from both sides were flung into the sand, unable to stop their sinking into the gritty depths.
The thing plowed through the broken ship before sliding back below the surface. In less than a second, however, it had leaped into the air, landing on top of and crushing one of the halves, killing all beneath it.
Neil too was tossed into the sand, clinging desperately to a small piece of wood. He looked franticly about, searching desperately for any sign of surviving men. They stopped as he spied bright red hair. His friend had managed to hold to a piece of wood just as Neil had.
Just as Neil opened his mouth to call to him and check if he was okay, the sand beneath the red-head shuddered. The abomination had come to claim one more life. Neil screamed at his friend as hard and loud as he could.
"SHINJI!"
It came again from the sand, mouth open, then slid below the surface a last time.
And Shinji was no more.
The old man awoke with a start, panting and wheezing, knocking his pipe to the floor in a momentary panic.
His breathing came in shallow breaths as he clutched his chest with an ebon-clad hand.