[center][h1][u]Bron Cirrus[/u][/h1][hr]• Windward Island,[i]The Skullfish[/i]. Southern Seas •  [hr][/center] 

[indent] The port’s size was as anticipated. Too small to handle any [i]good[/i] ships. The [i]Skullfish[/i] was a hardy vessel; any Diver Crews who were recognized by the Guild in the Ancient Seas had to be a hardy vessel. But she was meant for exploration and marking important sites for the larger vessel to haul up. Bron knew that no other Guild divers would show up. The shelma wasn’t worth this trip, and the chances of artifacts were…well…minuscule at best. 

No, Bron was here because he’d made a promise. He scanned the bright island, squinting his small, grey eyes at the sea of people standing near the docks. He was still on the bow of the [i]Skullfish[/i] looking. “Of course he wouldn’t still be here,” the burly man muttered. Bron was a tall, broad-shouldered man, draped in leather gear with his own thick ornate rebreather wrapped around his neck. Resting on top of his brow (he’d been bald for roughly fifteen years now) were a part of brass goggles. An artifact he’d found in his youth that had helped him in countless expeditions. 

The [i]Skullfish’s[/i] other crewmen, Martin, was busy checking the small aether engine of the ship. The wizened middle-aged man called to his boss, “We can still pull anchor and head back to Sun’s Rest! There’s better treasure to find north of here. Half a days sailing, we could be in the sea of stars, find a small wreck and make-“ 

“You remember Kelman, don’t you Martin?” 

“Of course I do. Damn-fool researcher under Jerrah’s crew, right? You used to sail with him.” 

“Aye. He had a family in the southern sea.” 

“You don’t mean-“ 

“Kelman was not a foolish man, Marty.” He walked back to the engine room. “He was also not a man keen on retiring.” 

“Jerrah said he was dead. Found his sword and everything.” 

“And maybe he is. But did you ever wonder why he spent so many years in the seas that everyone [i]claims[/i] has no research merit?” 

“He liked the weather?” 

Bron sighed. “If the mission isn’t worth it, we’ll scuttle it and be in Goldhold by tomorrow noon, alright?” 

“Now you’re talkin’ boss!” [/indent]

[center][h1][u]Marlowe Vallis[/u][/h1][hr]• Windward Island, Port. Southern Seas •  [hr][/center] 

[hider=Port Theme] [youtube] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UydWbM6IIgs&t=7s[/youtube] [/hider]

[indent] “Marlowe, I can’t see!”  Mala was tugging on Marlowe’s arm now. The young adult sighed, kneeling down to lift the smaller boy up onto his shoulders. Mala wiggled with excitement as he could see those getting off the ships. “Wow! Look at [i]that[/i] ship! It has so many boxes! And that fellow there! He’s got such weird clothes! A-ha! Look, look, that girl leaped into the water!” 

Marlowe of course, was unable to see [i]any[/i] of the events transpiring. But, at least Mala was exited. Besides, seeing all of these divers and merchants from far off would do nothing but to fuel that desire to leave the island again and again. He’d [i]had[/i] a chance, roughly two years ago when a small crew came from Sun’s Rest recruiting anyone with sailing experience. Marlowe had actually gotten to show his skills with a skiff, and his ability to sail around the island with some skill. Then came the questions… 

[i]“So, what aether sign are you? I noticed people in the Southern Seas wear their sign on their shoulder. But…you don’t? Are you not from here originally?” 

“No, I-“ Marlowe looked down at the question. He already knew how it would end. “I was born during an eclipse. I don’t have a sign.” 

“I’m sorry,” The man muttered, his voice dropping. “It’s just…well, you know the story. Sailors born during an eclipse are-“ 

“I know.” [/i]

Marlowe was so lost in thought, he almost jumped when he was Marea in his peripheral vision. “S-sorry Marea,” He muttered, as Mala kicked him on the shoulder for nearly losing his grip on the boy. “You know me: head in the clouds.” 

He tried not to grimace at the thought of her finding out that he’d been out training [i]again.[/i] She’d always supported him, but he hated to see it go back to her with Talu. The Chief was never [i]angry[/i] at her, nor did he punish her. But he always remembered that slight disappointment Talu seemed to have any time Marea helped him out at all. For Marea, Talu was a father. Even if they weren’t related by blood, he’d [i]been[/i] a father to her, ever since they’d found her encased in ice. Talu had always treated Marlowe with some distance, like many of the adults in town had. He had his own hypothesis why they treated him with such distance: [i]they blamed him for his mother’s death.[/i] 

“It’s exciting though, isn’t it? Even on feast-days or on important holidays we never see such people.” He smirked at the girl he was raised alongside. “It feels like something is brewing in the air. Not just that storm around the rock, I mean. Something [i]big[/i] is happening!” [/indent]