[h3][center][i][color=778899]~ The Morkt ~[/color][/i][/center][/h3]

[center][@Helios]
[@Goldeagle1221][/center]

[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/411680732973498368/421478723515187201/e7683b3b8762152587387e7ef4d300c9.png?width=421&height=633[/img][/center]

A bitter breeze cut through the air, otherwise filled with light snow and screams. A wooden levithan passed the Ahti wharf, the matron wharf of Morkt. Its citizens, generally the visage of cool reserve were in utter panic. The boat before them nearly dwarfed the floating village itself. Glimpses of the vile creatures aboard showed a clear lack of collars, the garment which bonded land dwellers to the merfolk of their realm.

Ida, a woman in her thirties with broad arms and hair the color of lightning scrambled for a horse atop the floating wooden village. The peasant population flew around her in chaos. Some armed themselves, others hid their children and valuables, still others offered hushed prayers to various gods in spite of the gentle burn their collars produced at such heresy. With the springtime raid at hand, those land dwellers left in these isles were too old, too young, or too pregnant to fight. Ida flung herself onto the small, hardy pony whose dun coat mirrored her likeness. With a quick crack of heels the mare tore off through the clamoring crowd. A few daring souls recognized her as she flew by and were quick to follow, axes in hand. 


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Gnima, daughter of the shaman witch who ruled these lands, looked onward as the goliath vessel crashed into the black sanded shores before her. Their position was a short ways east of the wharf, which met with land only via a series of bridges and ferries. She sat perched on a wooden cask, her finely jeweled dreadlocks and warm dark skin shimmering in the feint wisps of sunlight. 

Menacing laughter erupted as many gangplanks of superb craftsmanship were haphazardly thrown from the seamless vessel. The occupants funneled down from their ark, some massive, some not, all with pleased smiles on their faces. 

In their arms they transported bundles of crude looking metal weapons and tools, and masterwork wooden furniture and bobbles. As they exited, a thick stench followed them, not unlike the marshes of the islands. 

Gnima watched in muted horror as the beasts closed with her. She had perhaps heard stories of such creatures, but always in the context of mothers scaring their children from leaving home. She was indeed scared, and her mother nowhere to be found. 

"Hail!" Gnima offered in a booming voice despite her concerns. Arms open, she stood atop her finely crafted barrel, though at combined height she was at nose height to many of the creatures. Even at distance she caught whifs of their scent but continued amiable all the same. "My welcomed guests! I have long awaited your arrival!" She proclaimed magnanimously, her arms open in welcoming gesture.  

A being of about ten feet tall and three men wide turned to her, on its shoulder's it carried a barrel unseen outside of a noble's palace, with intricate wood burnings denoting it a liquor of some sort. The being itself was of long matted hair, a rugged wool cap, and a fur cloak that hid a rag covered body. It's skin was mottled grey's and dull blues, with thick stony patches of thickened skin. A bulbous and warty nose stood between Gnima and a yellow eyed stare. 

Slowly a wicked grin of human-like teeth shone from its face, "Hail!" It replied in a booming, voice thick with a bouncing accent. One of the smaller creature's the size of a teenager also approached her. The skinny creature was dressed in loose fitting clothes the color of dirt, and smelt none the better. Moss was growing in it's long curly hair. With curiously long fingers, the smaller of the two reached out, fingertips playing with the jewels in her locks. 

"Hail." The smaller one repeated in a whispering voice, something akin to an accented ghost. 

Gnima smiled softly at the more handsy of her [i]guests[/i]. She peered at the larger beast's cask before continuing slowly. "Perhaps the greatest of welcomes is in good drink." She bowed slightly as she warmly brushed away the hand fiddling in her hair. She unwrenched the cork lodged in barrel beneath her and filled a pair of simple hollowed horns with the murky brown liquid. She sipped her own to show its lack of tamper, the fiery trial of bourbon streaming down her throat. She produced the other horn between the two strange giants. "Who may I call a friend?" 

The smaller of the two made a nasty face as his hand was smacked away, but lit up at the offered horn. He stretched his arm to snatch it but suddenly the mighty arm of the larger beast swung, smacking the smaller in the chest, and with a loud thud, the smaller of the two was sent flying through the air with such distance and velocity as if he was struck with a mighty tree. A hollow scream of pain played on its voice as it arched into the ocean with a loud splash.

The remaining beast roughly grabbed the horn and gulped it down with one wet swallow, letting the horn drop to the ground. With a satisfied smile, the beast shook its own barrel off its shoulders and ripped the cork from the bung hole. He held the barrel over Gnima, letting a spew of orange-brown liquid to fall over her head, "glug!" The beast roared. A few other beasts of various ugliness appeared behind the scene, settled with their unpacking, each snickering. 

Gnima's tiny frame peered up at the torrent of foul liquid and attempted to guzzle as much of it as she could. The far greater portion of the brew crested about her head and shoulders, drenching her finley embroidered wool dress. It burned down her throat like any other alcohol, sending her head into a floating daze, but as she looked up at the barrel, her eyes caught something as the liquid began to slosh in her belly, giving her a fuzzy feeling. The big beast's index finger was in the way of the flow, the nail glowing a mossy green. Her eyes crossed as she felt the magic swirl in her gut, and the beast began to speak, as she began to lose herself to drunkenness. 

"Hej där, har du drack tillräckligt?" The beast asked, the words slowly transforming from an alien language to one more familiar, as if she slowly began to understand, "hej där, har du- drink enough?"

The liquid pooled by her feet as the beast roared again, "understand me?"

"Yeah..." She said, slightly confused and more than slightly drunk. "What are y'all doing here?" she asked with a slightly less composed smile than before, her eyes with a well known shimmer. 

A wide grin formed on the big beast's face and with an almost fatherly arm, he swung his mighty appendage over her shoulder pulling her into a conspiratory huddle, her nose nearly snuffed into his armpit. He began to walk her towards the ark, gesturing with his free hand, "you wish to know the story of Gjornenahabblestrjikn?"

A "medium" sized beast sneered and called out, "your village is ugly, but your hair is pretty."

The big beast lifted a finger as he criticized the other beast, "not all are blessed with the grace of the Gjornenahabblestrjikn!"

The big beast and Gnima stopped in front of the big ark, "shall I enlighten you?" the beast prodded with a bouncing voice.

"Please," She muttered, her face still firmly fastened to the moldy underarm. 

The big beast held suddenly held her out at arms length, her head sloshing as much as her stomach, "I'll need something of equal value as this splendid story, as it would only do it justice!"

He pointed to her hair, "a bobble or two for many a word of mine, sounds pretty plain and fair to me, eh?"

She paused, questioning the fascination with her hair, but then appreciated the infested state of their own. With no excess of coordination, Gnima unlatched a silver pendant from her locks and flipped the trinket into the air like a challenge coin. "I think that's a worthy trade I think." She stumbled over her words. 

The big beast watched as the trinket glittered in the air and then plopped onto the sandy beach. He looked at Gnima with a confused smile, "wh- why'd you throw it?"

"For good luck." She replied with a wink. 

The big beast shoved a shushing finger in her face, slightly getting her left nostril with a ragged nail, "doesn't matter, it is time to regale you with the tantalizing tale of the great Gjornenahabblestrjikn."

"But which tale shall I spill?" 

"Tell her of the giant Yurgjin!"
"Of the mossy grove of secrets!"
"Of the battle of Kerkinbjornyerdik and Gorathrensickle!"
"Tell her of the great empty!"

The big beast snapped its fingers and growled menacingly, "the great empty." 

The big beast let its rump fall to the sandy floor of the beach, lifting its shoes (which were little more than sacks tied around the ankle), and as if on command, all the other beasts followed suit.

He patted the sand next to him "sit, and hear of the terrible tale of the great empty."

Gnima fell to the ground as bid. She propped herself with both arms, a vain attempt at keeping her from swaying. With a nod she gestured to the great troll her willingness to listen provided her body could remain in good standing. 

The troll's voice boomed as it narrated, "Gjornenahabblestrjikn and the great empty is a tale of recent times, a tale of new, not of old. For we are the Gjornenahabblestrjikn and we have fled shamefully from the great empty."

"Our lands were sunny and snowy, of fjords and faucets, of mountains and wood, oh so much wood," The troll looked down at Gnima with a sadness, "In the west we felt it come, and our neighbors who long hated the Gjornenahabblestrjikn were silenced in their usual shouts of displeasure towards us, and so drew our curiosity. Out our best went to the west, to meet the cause of the silence, but only a few returned to the Gjornenahabblestrjikn to tell tale of what was seen. There, a great being roamed the lands of those who surrounded the Gjornenahabblestrjikn and there nothing was found. The dirt was all that remained of forested hills, steep grassy valley's and disgusting -- yet large -- cities of other people. It commanded the wind and stole all of the something, leaving nothing in its wake, not even the remains of people slain. So, fearing our own something, in three days we crafted the vessel you see before you, and in three more days we gathered all our somethings, and left, sailing east, following the tonnikala."

The troll cleared its throat, "and now we are here after many many moons of sailing, to create a new life, away from the great empty, where our somethings may be safe. The tonnikala now flip and swim in these waters, and we shall fish them. Woods stand on this land and we shall work them. Bear you the same feelings as our old neighbors, or bear you the heart of a Gjornenahabblestrjikn?"

"My heart is with you, friend. My people too have fled their old worlds," She gestured to the warf village, "but we have come from the East and the South. We too follow that which swims. We make our life on the seas and live at it's mercy. We are sworn to it and it provides for us. Do your people live in this way too?" 

The old troll held up a philosopher's finger, all eyes following it as he lifted it to the sky, as if about to propose the true meaning of all existence. With a stern face, and even sterner words he bellowed, "we live the way of the Gjornenahabblestrjikn." The entire beach burst into a cacophony of wicked laughter. Those furthest from the story circle ripped their instruments from the unloaded luggage and began the same exact song from their voyage. The old troll stood up and looked down at Gnima, "you are always welcome to ou- upptåg." He let out a crusty wink and began to sing along with the others, in their raspy, bouncing accents and strange pounding language. 

Gnima's arms gave way. She toppled to the ground and stared up into the now swirling sky. Maniacal laughter erupted from her belly.