The Call of the Sea
PW, The Daily Special, 30 Dec 2021
Tis the end of the harvest season; the signs haunting, the days end too soon. The clear, bright blue sky of Saeen, Goddess of plenty, grows gray and foreboding. The calm seas begin the churn, foretelling the coming of Trotan God of strife and hardship. The pin-pricked calm of Saeen’s night sky burst into fires as the celestial bodies of Fring and Frang collided in the night sky. Finally, the beginning of the Port Season crashes upon the Mariners of Kleb.
The waning days of peace are a nervous time for the sailors of Kleb as they labor between the tides of harvest and doom. For one never knew when a Captain might lose his senses and attempt a late run for the Larkspur shores. Larkspur, where the tides ebb, the harbors are peaceful, and the purple flowers blanket the countryside. Larkspur, welcomes and encourages the foreign fleets to her. She calls out, come, we have plenty for you to enjoy. Partake of our rich resources in your season of rest.
The first of the many execrated storms that birth the season had already begun. Trotan’s strife enslaves the Mariners of Kleb. Each season starts with a few overly bold crews who fail to put their stern windward to make for the fortresses of land. Instead of rest and renewal, these few unfortunates fall prey to the incandescent, vermilion tendrils of the death currents. The storms reach out and entangle the halfwitted, harebrained captains, crew, and ships spewing their wreckage and bones across the waves, where, in its finality, will litter the floor of the abyss.
For me and mine, we harbor at Point Barice, where the Lattice winds of flame spring forth as the late storms depart, thus marking the end of Port Season.
Point Barice, Fine is her inns and keeps, abundant the ales and wine. Here we will sell the season’s harvest, refresh our souls in the baths of Preen, pray to the gods, partake of the physical, and meander in pits of self-loathing.
When the storms break and the sky, fires erupt. The welcoming embraces of Saeen will again call to the men of the sea. We will kiss our lovers and look with longing upon the shores that kept us in the dark days. Depart from here we will, because depart we must. Even the honey-drunk, pot-bellied turtle backs who weathered at Larkspur can not resist. The sea calls us and entices our hearts. The smell of salt in the air and the warmth of the sun brings joy to our souls. So we leave to battle the sea once more, the endless ebb and flow of time and season we can not escape. We will push out, catch the winds, conquer her swells, take her riches, and truly live again.
From Point Barice across the endless sea to Larkspur doeth the rhythm of the mariner ever tick never-ending, ebbs and flows; it swells like the tide and crashes like waves.
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© 2022, T. Mark Mangum
I am T. Mark Mangum. From an early age, I was hooked and addicted to the imagined, unfathomable worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, Conan, the Lord of the Rings, and many others. I love writing fiction tales. I love writing in multiple genres. However, my favorites are Sci-fi and Fantasy fiction. I am a father of six; we have two cats and two dogs. Tabletop gaming is a passion.
