[i][h3]West of Askor[/h3][/i]

A putrid and foul smell rose up and encased the ships of the Expedition as they approached the last rocky island they would see for a long while. It was a smell that the wild-eyed men of the Seobaghs were well accustomed to, but it was not for the faint of heart, and when the fleet moved past the craggy, sea dusted rocks, they saw the source of the scent; dozens of shark corpses, all finless, with lipid bodies laying bloodied on the pebbled beach. Ruddy gulls have flocked to the island, leaving it speckled with entrails and shit and a cacophony of squabbles.

Nearing three decades ago, the boy walked in the corpse of a mother who never loved him and didn't know what to feel, but Bahar knew what to feel looking at the sharks, and it was nothing. One of the Serenist deacons accompanying the [i]Liba[/i] vomited over the side of the ship, a sailor bringing him some water. Bahar thought this a waste of resources, but knew better than to say anything, and he went back to his quarters.

Nearing one decade ago, he and a black-haired woman who would betray him made love on the bed he was laying on now, and he could feel her living ghost wrap her arms around his chest and her mouth bite at his heart. The sea was boring now when there was nothing to fear, and when you relied on the people you could pass the time by hating. Before the hurricane happened, he thought he'd be fighting dangerous pirates of foreign seas, but now he sailed into the unknown with crazed friends and former enemies with the pretension of sanity, who didn't know yet that the sea had a toll; one you payed with your mind, and you pray gives you something better in return.

The captain felt a cold draft enter his quarters, so he wrapped his Bunyip-skin blanket around his torso, when he heard a quick knock at his door.

"Who is it?" He asked, to which responded a voice that was timid and fearful.

"Kh-Kheag, Capn', may I come in?" Bahar sniffed in and sighed, sitting up as the bed produced a low creak.

"Yeah, come in." Kheag was the newest addition to the crew of the Liba, somewhat inexperienced in sailing but with a reputable father who Bahar owed a favor to. He had a slender if not waifish body, a short, kept beard, but a rugged and handsome face. Confident and swarthy usually, this fearful disposition was an oddity.

"Capn'...we have to turn around," he said, Bahar not bothering to make eye contact and moving his hand through his black curls.

"Well it's a bit late for that," the captain responded, gesturing to the ocean outside his window. He stood up, to get a better view for it, and the crewman stepped behind him.

"I'm sorry, capn', I know my da put his trust in me, but...I can't do this, this life, it isn't cut out for me." Bahar turned to face him, eyes inquisitive. "Yeah, sailing around the island, all the adventurin', that was great fun, but...just lookin' at them sharks there, I realized that...maybe this isn't cut out for me."

Bahar said nothing for a while, just looking at the man. "And...what do you want me to do about it?"

"Ah...I don't know, I was hoping-"

"I'm not turning around, man." He chewed his tongue for a moment. "What, you gonna jump ship?" Kheag was taken aback for a second.

"What? No, I-"

"You what? Look, I'm not turning around, friend. So you have two options. Bear through it or jump ship, and you don't seem like the suicidal type, so I suggest you bear with us for a while. I'm sorry that the ocean offers you no whores, or any more wine than can be afforded, but this is our job, one I am [i]paying[/i] you for." Kheag looked away from him, without words with which to speak. "I suggest you keep your doubts to yourself; cruel fates await those who stir trouble among my men." The sailor's eyes widened at threat, stepping back and bumping his head on the door behind him, to which he exclaimed in pain and rubbed the back of his head.

"Yes sir, I'll...thank you." With that, he ran out, and Bahar turned around to look out his window.

Nearing two decades ago, the boy became Bahar and looked upon the sea for the first time as a home rather than a prison, for a man he once would have feared gave him the key to his cell, and the knife in his belt. And now, as a man and a captain looking upon the ocean, he saw it for what it was.

Water. Endless water.

[hr]
[i][h3]Somewhere in Rokai[/h3][/i]
The farmer's sons stood outside their family house as their mother wept over the near-dead body of their father. They were silent, a strong air of mourning hanging between them, when the youngest, Shik, let out a scream and punched the wall of the house. The other two brothers were taken aback by the outburst, when Shik fell to the ground, weeping, and the oldest of them, Breyn, crouched by him. "Look, he was getting older, it was bound to-"

"You know that's a lie, Breyn!" Shik yelled out pushed his brother's arm off of him. He stood up, biting his lip. "This storm...it took something from him. And now he'll be."

"And what do you want me to do, eh? He was my father too!" Breyn retorted, clearly distraught. The two brothers bickered for a while, when the middle child, Norten, spoke up.

"We could honor him." To other two grew quiet, looking at their brother.

"What, do you think we weren't going to?" Breyn asked.

"No, brother, but..." He sighed, looking away from them.

"What is it, Norten?" The middle son looked to the ground, softly kicking the dirt and waiting for a while to keep speaking.

"There is a place, I heard, in Trabahr, where the dead can be properly honored."

[hider=Statue Response]
[@Goldeagle1221]
All over Olira, the families of the near death are bringing their dying relatives, either themselves or by hiring smugglers, to the stone soldiers, the army based in Trabahr, where they believe the soldiers can bring them into some heroic afterlife. The High King and the King of Trabahr have set up a patrol to stop this until they figure out what exactly the stone soldiers are, but as of right now the patrol is sparse and largely unsuccessful.
[/hider]