They had made it.

What had seemed like an endless journey across an unimaginably vast desert of sand and stones had finally ended. They had lost friends and family along the way, but finally they had escaped the horrors that plagued their kind since the dawn of memory.

They had made it. 

Mother Flotta leaned against her driftwood cane, her large eyes heavily lidded, giving her a perpetually tired look. She held a piece of dried seaweed in her small webbed hand, glancing over the hastily marked figures in silence. All around her the Migrants were establishing themselves within the new domain that had found. The land was strange, a far cry from the sandy desert they had crossed, and even farther still from the nightmare world of water that had been the birthing place of their kind. She more than any other bore the scars from their old home.

No. Home is not the world you call such a place. A home gives you warmth, shelter, protection and hope. They had lived in constant fear and desolation. It was a prison. The icy, constant churning of the water that surrounded them, pushing and pulling against their kind at all hours of the day. Food had been scarce, and the foraging parties had to venture farther and farther every day in order to gather enough supplies to survive. Most had never returned. Death was so common that they had ceased in burial, letting the currents take the lifeless bodies into the dark abyss. 

If it had only been that, perhaps they never would have left. Life was hard, but that hard life made them strong. But no, their gods would not simply allow them to whittle out a scant existence. They had to ensure that their power was felt in full. Flotta knew from reading old texts that had floated to the bottom that there were beings of power that only demanded love and devotion, and returned that love in kind to their worshippers. These beings operated away from the world, their faithful never looking upon their face. Flotta, had looked into the face of her gods. She had stared into the terrible eyes and seen the gaping maws so large that they could swallow the world whole. She had watched their gods take sacrifices screaming into the black void of oblivion. They were not there to be worshipped. They were there to sow terror and anguish. Flotta grimaced at the memories, and slowly shook her scaly head. 

No more. They had made it. No more would her people suffer the penalty of being born in such a place. It had taken some convincing, and many long and arduous hours of preparation, but they had made it. The fear of the unknown was even greater than that of their world, but eventually General Gnash, Foreman Shorr, and herself had inspired the people to take on the dangerous trek out of the water, and into the unknown world above. 

The old fish looked up from her notes, squinting in the brightening light of this new world. Everything was so bright, and her eyesight was not as it used to be. She could make out the shapes of the Brachycea moving about with construction materials and tools. Squads of Carlachii patrolled out, scouting the new territory mounted upon their swift Sphyarra, making sure a new area was safe for the Ithscies to begin exploring and scavenging for supplies.

The area was empty, or at least it was now. Flotta had not been there herself when the scouts of the Carlachii had emerged from the giant ceramic bowl structure that dominated one area of the world. However, she had met with General Gnash after the reports of safety had been received with cheers and tears of relief. She knew that there [i]had[/i] been previous occupants. 

[color=7ea7d8][b]“You look troubled Mother,”[/b][/color] came a gravely, rough voice behind her. Flotta turned, looking over her shoulder to see General Gnash approaching, his body towering over her own. He looked as warlike and brutal as ever, their shared past turning him into a creature of action and little remorse. Though they were nowhere even closely related, not even the same species, he always called her by the nickname bestowed upon her.

[color=00aeef][b]“Not troubled General, just very hard to see. My old eyes are still not used to the brightness of this world,”[/b][/color] she said chuckling. Gnash stayed silent, standing next to her as they both took stock of their new surroundings. [color=00aeef][b]“Tell me Gnash, what happened when your men arrived?”[/b][/color] she looked up at him.

[color=7ea7d8][b]“We finally saw light at the end of the tunnel system, following it until we breached the surface of the water inside of that,”[/b][/color] he said, jerking his head to indicate the hard, white monolith. [color=7ea7d8][b]“Surface was incredibly difficult to climb, as you all found out when we led you through the same route, but after a few grapnels we were able to scale it with some difficulty. I don’t know what I expected when we reached the ledge, but this,”[/b][/color] he gestured with his clawed hand, signaling all around them, [color=7ea7d8][b]“wasn’t it.”[/b][/color] 

[color=7ea7d8][b]“As I said before, we weren’t alone. There was a small group here, strange creatures. Pink and soft looking, with odd patches of fur on their head. When we rappelled to the bottom they noticed us, started screaming, some running from their homes while a few grabbed weapons and came at us,”[/b][/color] Gnash paused, not sure how much detail Flotta wanted. She was not one to condone violence. His glance toward her face showed little reaction; she already knew the end of this story. [color=7ea7d8][b]“We took care of it.”[/b][/color] He finished with a rough matter of fact tone. [b][color=00aeef]“What of the survivors?” [/color][/b]Flotta asked, her voice heavy and soft and Gnash almost didn’t hear the question. 

[color=7ea7d8][b]“There were none. After the few who came for us fell we chased down the runners. I couldn’t risk them returning with more to attack us when the rest arrived. I will not allow anything to threaten the safety of our people.” [/b][/color]

Flotta sighed, looking down at the hard, cold floor beneath her feet. She didn’t like the idea of greeting any previous habitants with brutality, but Gnash did say they had attacked first. His men were only defending themselves, and preventing any survivors from spreading word of their arrival had been the right call. It sickened her to imagine the Carlachii at their work, but their existence was vital to the survival of the whole. She was just grateful that Gnash had gotten rid of the bodies.

Already structures were being set up, though these were very temporary. If they meant to make this place a home, they would have to establish a more permanent hold. The Brachycea were already constructing a scaffold around the rim of the white monolith, using wood, fishing line, and items they had brought and scavenged from the desert to enable a faster method of transportation. That, and Shorr was very adamant on utilizing the portal settled into one of the edges of the world. Gnashes scouts had made the daring climb sometime earlier, and reported that the portal looked out onto the great desert, and you could see the entire breadth of land they had crossed. Shorr immediately began making plans to establish a method of bringing up the crabs and lobsters that waited on the desert floor below, since they had been too large to fit inside the tunnel network that eventually led them here. He had already constructed the scaffold, and had begun work on a crane-like device that he hoped would be able to haul up the rest of their group. The project of course had taken all of the driftwood and hard materials they had brought with them, hence the small tents being erected. 

A group of mounted Carlachii approached, hefting shields made of sea shells and spears of wood and tipped in bone and teeth. [color=82ca9d][b]“General, the immediate area is clear, requesting permission to extend our patrols out past the Gateway.”[/b][/color] Gnash nodded. [color=8493ca][b]“Be quiet, and be as stealthy as possible. We need to know what else is out there but we can’t allow our presence to become known just yet. A small team, just past the Gateway. If you see anything move you report back here. Until we can establish ourselves more securely secrecy is our greatest weapon.”[/b][/color] The Carlachii Warrior nodded, turning his mount around and digging his heels into its scaly flanks, the fish-like creature taking off at a graceful lope towards the only other gap in the gigantic barriers of this world. 

Flotta shivered, pulling the cloth of her robes tighter around her body. There was no wind here, but her old bones still felt chilled. 

[color=00aeef][i]There is more to this world than we may know. I just hope our nightmare is over.[/i][/color]