The waters were calm as the boatman paddled slowly. His eyes were cast to the sky and he wondered where the players were tonight. The strait from ttaerus and sumgullom was at least an hour's journey on a clear night. The boatman found that the players kept his mind focused and away from the merfolk's attempts on his paying fairs. They prey on the unsuspecting and especially on the ones who keep they gaze upon them. They enchant, they wooo and then steal their very breath leaving the boatman to deal with a soulless body. As the paddle cut through the black waters the sounds of the syrens seemed to echo louder than ever before. He kept his sites straight on and finally, moored at the dock.
Azelow was there cleaning fish. ever seen it like this before? he asked. the slick slice of the knife cut through the flesh. not since the caethwl reign has the night been so.. withdrawn. why the starman hasn't ... a splash in the waters interrupted him followed by a shrill laughter. Azelow's face whitened and he dropped his fish.
it glided through the water as a snake would on its hunts. it seemed to sparkle like the dawn reflecting waves only the sun was fast asleep. this slithering creature was gliding with some speed and was headed straight for the boatman and Azelow. they slowly stepped back from the edge. then, without warning, as fast as the strike of a cobra, water came forward at them as it was alive. it rushed the dock with such force that the little boat broke in half.