An hour worth of breast strokes lingered with nothing new for the recently approved swimmer of Zendikar. The jester, whether disguised as a forgettable warrior-climber or a Dyn imposter, nevertheless, enjoyed the sublime influence the sea wreaked upon itself. The salty rollers always endured her perpetual flapping and much more. From unassuming whitecaps to destructive tsunamis, the ocean survived, both as sadist and masochist, obliged by geographic and weathered forces, but also adapting and paying them forward to any who would grace her topmost shell. Still, this realm did not forfeit any visual constraint of its unceasing ripples, propagating to no demonstrable end, merely now to be disturbed by a dotted islandic mass in Koan’s approaching horizon. 

[i]The Merish village.[/i]

Mentioned by the ginormous wolf, the marine hamlet existed as a sprinkled intersection the pirates of the [i]SS Lady Slipper[/i] would have to cross on their trek to find the Marid.

[i]Why is everyone slowing down all of the sudden?[/i]

The blanche warrior braked her splashing momentarily, as her friends hesitated in their individual strides. Their drake guide quickly curdled beneath an underwater tide, dropping off the inconspicuous heroes before a sentry of many looming guards, posted outside the outskirts of the civilization. Raising her chin, ever so slightly, above her bobbing possé, the clown’s pupils engorged with ocular excitement.  

[i]This architecture is beautiful! Ooh! Ooh! Look at those buildings made out of coral! And that’s pre…[/i]

Her chromatic thoughts were soon interrupted by an incoming announcement.

[b]“State your purpose. Be quick about it, or feel the wrath of Poseidon.”[/b]

Unfortunately, the masked geisha believed that whenever she was jolted away from her eccentric meditation, the universe was only speaking to her, demanding a response. Sinking her head slightly, the comic elevated her arms towards the absent sky in complete surrender. 

[b][color=ed1c24]“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Our gang, here, means no harm, compadrés.”[/color][/b]

Projecting her limbs upward, she gradually approached the trident bearing infantry. Tempted to conjure an illusionary white flag, the comic braved a more subtle use of magic. Each step soon riddled with snowflakes from various angles, icy fractals emitting from every heel pressed upon the submerged currents passing them by. 

[color=ed1c24][b]“All of us were sent by…”[/b][/color] She paused awkwardly, probing for the name, Bledig, but discontinued her search for the sake of fluent conversation, [color=ed1c24][b]“the Steward of the Gate. He directed us here, as we are in search of the Verdant Stream.”[/b][/color]

The pale joker mentally applauded herself for listening to the Theullai earlier. Once her boots finally settled on a partitioned reef supporting a portion of their post, the harlequin halted her aquatic promenade and motioned to the frigid medallion noosed around her captain’s neck, in hopes the filmic evidence would prevent a forthcoming jihad. 

The disillusioned diamond studded tongue, however, tactlessly bubbled on its esplanade of negotiations.

[color=ed1c24][b]“See that’s proof! Now. My name is Kor…”[/b][/color] The glossy muscle reflexively could not escape the subsequent fibrillation. [b][color=ed1c24]“an. It's Koran. Let’s say it together. Good. So, if you all would lower your weapons, we can all be friends.”[/color][/b] 

[hider=Mechanics]
While she is walking underwater, Koan uses [i]Shape Water[/i] to mimic the previous landing style of the Theullai, to project and suggest a subliminal connection with him. Each step spawns brittle icicles beneath, washed away from the current; the last one quickly disappearing after a third new usage of [i]Shape Water[/i] is required.

She ends, with literary liberty, standing on a portion of substance that is supporting the Gate, if permitted, with hands still up, metaphorically waving a non-existent proverbial flag.
[/hider]