Beachside Story, Chapter I: You savvy, mate?

[Arhra]

"Wake up!"

...

"Hey!"

...

The man in the bed grunted and rolled over, pulling his blankets tighter around him.

"Listen Telm, don't make me do this."

The pile of blankets mumbled vaguely.

The girl narrowed crystalline eyes and then stomped over to the window. With a violent motion, shedding dust from her brown arms, she parted the curtains.

In the darkened little room, the sunlight was bright and unforgiving. Dust motes danced about lazily in it.

The retired hero groaned and sat up, squinting at his surroundings with bloodshot eyes. "Aggggh, Gnome, why did you have to do that?" Telm asked the summon spirit plaintively. "Don't have to open the bar till midday."

"If you hadn't been treating yourself to so much of your own homebrew last night, you'd remember. Some of the new guys said they'd walk with you up to the headland this morning, give you a hand checking some things for the Beach Carnival."

Muffled profanities and he flew out of bed.

- IX -

Really was a beautiful morning Telm decided. Barely a cloud in the sky, sparkling blue ocean, the cool salty tang of the ocean breeze offsetting the warm sun. Shame he was in too much of a hurry to properly appreciate it, dashing towards the beach.

"Hey Big B, hope I didn't keep you waiting." Telm said, slowing to a jog for the final approach to the beachside bar and blessing sprint shoes. It was a ramshackle looking affair, all timber, bamboo and palm fronds built around a little stone stump of a building, but it was a lot sturdier than it looked.

Big B was a big, bald, brooding figure sitting on a stool, reading a trashy spy novel. The slacks and brightly patterned shirt fit on the heavyset man uncomfortably, yearning to be replaced with a suit. Telm was certain he was carrying a gun in a concealed holster. Bodyguard, he'd said. Why was here, he'd just said Mr O'Sullivan had realised he was long overdue some leave.

He smiled for a moment, an unfamiliar looking expression on his heavy featured face and stood up. "Morning Mr Telm." B nodded in greeting. "You waiting on any else?"

[Overcast]

Alastor stared out at the sea as the waves crashed in. His bare feet wiggled in the coming saltwater as it washed under his ratty black robe. For a moment he closed his large bloodshot eyes, slight visions of sitting aboard a ship fighting a whole crew of pirates. He imagined the havoc of a port town besieged by zombies. He imagined talking with a great dragon, and pulling into a foreign port with a smile full of mischief.

The sea had been a big part of his adventures before this. It seemed fitting the afterlife would send him here. The memories inspired a wry, sad little smile across his face. Slight tears he covered with thick red lenses and a quick wipe of his robe across his face. It was a lifetime ago now, quite literally, time to move on.

He opened his eyes and turned around, it had been a few days now since he'd washed up here. Many of his belongings were missing, and for some reason it looked like he was given a few as well, but the basics were still there. For the most part he had only really become acquainted with this little seaside bar, the first real thing he'd found when he regained consciousness. He'd been meandering on the beach since then, getting his bearings, sleeping a while, getting pinched by little crabs, boiling them alive. Mr. Telm had been a big help in getting himself back on his feet, and he owed him a bit of help in return. After all he was much more used to people throwing rocks at him and trying to lynch him as some kind of mutant on most first impressions. Apparently a carnival was in store soon, and he was rather fond of such a festival, so he offered his assistance however it might be used.

He wandered up to the bar waving now that the man himself had arrived, Alastor was as typical a terrible sight to behold, his big yellow grin was far too wide and uneven to be pleasant, his long black hair ran wild and free and seemed to raise somewhat on its own from the occasional burst of energy that pulsed in the man, the waving hand in question was faintly scarred and missing a couple of its nails while others grew unsettlingly long, and his eyes were far too wide, the piercing brown globes looking more like a threatening glare than a greeting despite everything. His ratty robe was marred with salt and sand. But despite all this he did his best to be cordial, "Morning! Pleasant day I must say."

[mauve]

Jimmy stood, rather awkwardly, at the water's edge. He supposed he should be relaxing-- That was what you were supposed to do at an idyllic beach like this, after all-- but he just kept expecting something to go wrong. This was too nice, a voice kept telling him in the back of his mind. Any minute now, a fully armed space marine would jump out from behind some conveniently-placed waist-high cover spot and ambush him. Or maybe a sea monster would emerge from the depths looking for a poorly-armored snack.

Instead, however, the waves gently washed against the sandy shore in rhythmic patterns. Some kind of seashell was being dragged back and forth through the surf by the current. Jimmy reached down and grabbed it before it could go tumbling back into the sea again. The water was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The shell itself was of the conical, conch-esque variety, bleached white from an extended vacancy and exposure to the elements. Jimmy gave it a shake to dislodge any excess sand and seawater from inside. Weren't you supposed to be able to hear the sea through these things?

Tentatively, half expecting something to jump out of it, Jimmy held the shell up to his ear. Sure enough, he could hear the faint whooooosh of air inside, disharmonizing with the rhythm of the real ocean at his feet. Huh, this really wasn't so bad.

Maybe things really are going to be better, he risked the thought. Maybe I really did escape for good. He stared out at the ocean, then over at the fellow beachgoers who seemed to have zero interest in killing him. He had to admit, this was actually pretty nice.

"I am on vacation," he announced aloud to the shell in his hand. "So screw the rest of the galaxy!" That sounded better in his head, but the sentiment was there. He sat down in the sand and pulled off his boots. If he was gonna do this vacation thing, he was gonna do it right. He was gonna kick back, he was gonna forget about stupid space wars, and he was gonna consider getting a drink with an umbrella in it! Yeah!

[Girasol of Chaos]

Away from the waves a small distance there were a few lounging chairs set up to enjoy the shade of the palms. Resting on one of the chairs sat a somewhat pale, blue-eyed blonde. By the looks of it she wasn't enjoying the scenery, nor even the vacation spot, as much as she should have been. She was currently dressed as if she had just gotten off of a plane from a far-off city in the north. Or at least from a place that has weather other than 'warm rain' and 'sunshine'.

If anyone ventured closer, she would appear even more suspicious. The jacket she sported looked quite old and ratty, despite once being a proud piece of leatherworking. Although sanitary, there were many curious scratches, nicks and stains too suspiciously splattered to be wine. A shadow of its former self, the jacket was loosely draped over this woman's shoulders, splaying open in the front to reveal an ultramarine and jet striped top. Her long black skirt neatly draped over her folded legs, tucked into a square formation in front of her as her elbow leaned on her knee. What could be seen of her black jogging shoes revealed that they were quite worn too, and not quite matching the tune of the rest of her outfit.

Riley's head shook, brushing some of the short hair strands as she tried to decipher the puzzle that faced her. It had been kind of that gentleman to loan her the pen and notebook, which now saw its pages scrawled in what appeared to be crude maps, charts and chicken scratch. Gloved fingers -also in black, of course- now drummed against her cheek. "I mean, I guess it could have been worse..." The material felt great on her scars, the damaged tissue arcing in faded tears originating from her left temple to trail off by the right line of her jaw.

Perhaps she should get some cosmetic surgery for that.

Even if she could see some movement by the bar, Riley was too engrossed in her thoughts to want to go check it out. There was also a man who appeared to be in a space suit of some sorts and she wasn't about to ask if he had seen any unusual creatures fly by recently.

A small smirk formed before she went back to her notes, "I still can't believe that worked."

[Shyria Dracnoir]

In the shade of the alley bordering the beach bar, a garbage can rattled its way towards the corner facing the beach and shuddered to a halt. The lid rose to reveal three points of bright yellow light, incongruously shaded by a pair of pink-framed sunglasses. The lights seemed to skim the scene on the beach before retreating into the depths of the can. An instant later, the can tipped over and clattered to the ground as a strange reptilian figure made a beeline for cover in a floral hedge at the edge of the sand.

Deep in the shade of the leaves, Gleek continued to monitor the situation on the beach. Even through the protection offered by the surveillance goggles and the sunglasses, the impression of the sun's rays nearly caused his eyes to water. He hated day jobs, but getting back into the graces of the Boss would require all the effort he could spare. He had heard promising things about this "Beach Carnival" that was kicking off in a few days, and more importantly about the "Fabulouse (sic) Prizes" promised by the flyer he had dug out of the garbage bin. A sufficiently valuable haul would go a long way towards redeeming his reputation. All he had to do now was suss out what events he would have to rig and who among his competition should be eliminated first.

The morning was still new, so the beach was relatively underpopulated. Gleek made out one figure at the water's edge, two at the front of the bar with another approaching to join them and one closest to him reclining in the sun loungers. The latter was close enough for Gleek to discern their heavy clothing and the bound notebook in their hands, though the text was illegible. Possibly a spellcaster, possibly a brooding poet; confirmation either way would require further observation. Gleek was already anxious for something more exciting to crop up, but surveillance was a necessary evil for agents. Besides, violence tastes so much sweeter when its had time to simmer.

[Dracorion]

> Beachside Story



You are a strapping young troll skipping across the sand happily, his loyal firefly lusus zipping around him, quite enjoying the beach and the sun, even if he's not quite dressed for the occasion. This boy has no name, though.

What will the name of this young troll be?

> Enter name.

INSUFFERABLE PRICK_

Try again smartass.

> Try again.

ZEBREK SALAKK_

Your name is ZEBREK SALAKK.

As demonstrated by your room, you have a variety of interests. You enjoy shitty comedy movies, shitty action movies, shitty romance stories, and shitty movies altogether. The same can be said for TV series you like. You like to PAINT, though you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT.

Anyway, where were you? Oh, right. You like to partake in VARIOUS FORMS OF ROLEPLAYING, and often employ your TITANIC COLLECTION of toys to fight miniature wars. Dragons, lizards, bugs, spiders and Squiggles, even when you're not physically playing with them you're usually running a giant scenario or two in your mind. Not that you can play with your toys right now since you're stuck in this inescapable interdimensional beach. Well, at least you have some captachalogued.

You are also attracted to SHINY THINGS, and are an avid collector of such items. Like that rare spindly- OOOHHHHH, SHINY. Lookit it, it's a seashell, it's so pretty! You are transfixed by it's beauty. You watch the light bounce off the shiny object's polished surface. Wait, what were you doing? Right, right. Though you enjoy ROLEPLAYING, you have few friends that share your interest.

Your trolltag is spectacularHellion and you often go on insane tangents i mean what is a tangent anyway its like a line that crosses a circle once and whats up with circles where do they start youve never been able to figure it out

> Stop admiring the seashell and go talk to someone.

You're distracted by the seashell when your eyes glance upon something else. When you look up, you spot one of your NEW FRIENDS lounging on a chair in the shadow of a palm tree. It's miss Riley, a nice, friendly woman that you met briefly. But you think everyone is nice and friendly.

> Say hi.

You decide to approach her, waving like an idiot.

Show dialoglog

Zebrek: hello miss riley how are you today whatcha up to a crossword puzzle it looks hard i like puzzles but i have trouble finishing because i get distracted by something else like twinkleberry coming up with my shotgun and trying to play with it but he couldnt really hold it except in his mouth but he was still trying to shoot it was pretty fun is your puzzle just as fun miss riley

> Be a better character.

[Girasol of Chaos]

Unaware of the fact that she's being watched, Riley's attention immediately snaps to the oncoming...what did he call himself? A troll? He certainly looked like he lived under a bridge. Ah, but he seemed innocent enough, if a bit strange at chatting.

"Morning uh..Zebrek, was it?" Wait, maybe she shouldn't give him an opening to talk. Crap. Being the sweet woman that she is, she simply adjusted pink bow that was mostly hidden by the jacket and waited for Zebrek to finish his greeting. "Thanks for helping me out of that shrubbery last night. That I managed to get myself stuck in. Magically." A light cough, perhaps he could catch the-oh who was she kidding. This guy was obviously not subtle in the least.

"Well, I guess it is a puzzle, and technically I don't think a shotgun will help solve it, but I don't suppose there-wait, you have a shotgun?" Oh god she gave him an opening. Unfortunately she was way too dumbfounded by the idea of giving this kid a shotgun.

Internally she wondered why her new friend only spoke in run-ons. Who taught him English? She also still couldn't get over the fact that he so blatantly showed off his candy-corn horns. Didn't the council have rules about that?

Whenever he gave her the chance, she'd show him the book. It wasn't anything particularly special, nor very legible, but what could be made out were crazy labyrinths, a bad drawing of what appeared to be a golem trex, and some weird looking door things? Whatever. "Basically, it's a treasure hunt. So yeah, I guess it'd be more fun if wasn't losing."

"But enough about me, what are you doing up at this hour? I figured you'd be asleep still. Isn't that what people do on vacation?"

[PyrosNine]

A lone piece of driftwood bobbed lazily in the waters, a bit of flotsam, the worn and weathered wood weakened by weeks warm waters. It bore a few bits of paint, and had a some lines of soggy rope attached, looking like it was the flotsam of flotsam, a broken piece of a ship that was made from broken pieces of a more intact ship. The other pieces were long gone, likely lying in Davy Jones, along with whomever sailed upon it, and this piece, no bigger than a seagull, floated alone atop a gently rolling sea.

So similarly sized to a seagull in fact, it was the perfect place for a weary seagull to rest after a long day of being a dick to other birds and and stalking old men with bagels, especially when all the land and other spots were taken.

A lone seagull, having spotted the floating detritus, winged downwards in a brilliant swoop, almost aiming straight for water, just before rising up again at the last moment, flapping twice, and landing perfectly upon the piece of driftwood without so much as making ripples. A 8 out of 10 as far as landings go for seagulls.

It looked around, made a few caws to show it's ownership of this spot and wood, and then began to preen itself a bit.

Then a long nailed hand darted out of the water, and snapped it's neck between it's index finger and thumb in one swift motion, and seized the bird's body with a firm grip so tight it would have killed it if it wasn't already dead.

The piece of flotsam did a complete and perfect 180 as if on a mechanism, and on top of it, standing upright with feet firmly planted on what had been the underside, was a ninja.

Seaweed hung from this ninja's lightly curved horns. Coral grew on a few spots of her ninja armor, where the black leather met masterwork mythril. A dead sea turtle followed behind, wrapped up in her demonic style tail. Her blood red eyes looked forward with an almost unblinkingly fierce glare, and salt water washed down from her eyes like the portholes of a rising submarine. She bit the seagull's head off with a single bite of her sharpened teeth.

Things had been rough lately.

* * *

Three hours and some picking of feathers out of teeth later, the most interesting thing occurred that had happened for days, weeks, and months.

LAND.

BEACH.

NOT OCEAN.

This was a very important thing. The ninja considered slapping herself with the "Self-Reflectory Anti-Delusion" technique, but chose against it, fearing any further harm to her already diminished reserves of health. This was either real, or she was going to die. Or eat 20 more seagulls, dolphins, Kraken, and whatever lizard midget race Shorty had been.

She weighed her options. 300 yards to shore, to beach, to terra firma, and her "raft" was moving at about 3 nautical yards a minute. If this land was a hallucination, and she left her raft, she'd be 300 yards away from her raft and be without a raft in an ocean without a raft. Swimming for several nautical miles was not an option any more. Killer whales were no joke.

A solution was found a minute later, as she held her raft in hand as she sprinted with athletic endurance atop the surface of the water. It was a risk, but she felt she had at at least one good run left in her body, and no better time to spend it than now. It was either land, or death at this point. Either would be good at this point as far as she was concerned.

As she got closer to land, her feather steps became more difficult, more labored- just as the ocean began to churn and and crash as it became waves crashing down upon a shore.

She ran up the ramp of a rising wave and dove 10 feet down to the lowering under wave, feet standing upon water only an inch above solid ground, and out ran the wave as it crashed down behind her, feeling the spray of seafoam and salt vapors upon her back.

Her feet were no longer able to stay above the water now, sinking into the water and up to her ankles in mud, and yet she kept going, struggling up the hill of the beach, moving from the soft muck to the solid semi-dry mud to the difficult to traverse soft powder of beach sand.

Land! She was on land! And not just some desert island again, but land! She could see buildings! There were trees, and presumably animals! In just a short while, she could be eating food, getting bed rest, and finally getting some direction in her life. Stability! Civilization! Assassination contracts!

There was a bright and bold future ahead of her now, where there hadn't been much to hope for in the last year or so! And she, the shinobi Senna Ryu, would strive towards it, unflinchingly and unfailingly!

It has been 24 hours. Scurvy check! DC 10!

Senna Ryu rolled a 2!

Senna Ryu takes 1 CON damage!

Senna Ryu falls unconscious!

With a "bleh", Senna Ryu fell face first into the hot white sands.

[mauve]

Jimmy had been watching with kind of dumbfounded fascination as a dot of black rose out of the sea and began moving closer to the shore. Was that the sea monster he had been dreading? If so, it was kind of a let-down. He was kind of expecting something bigger and scarier. Maybe dinosaur-shaped. Dinosaurs were cool.

As he pondered the finer points of dinosaur awesomeness, it occurred to him that the blob on the horizon was becoming humanoid in shape. And it was running. On the water. Towards the beach.

Jimmy stood, nervously grabbing his rifle and looking around for an escape. The running person got closer and was now clearly female, wearing some kind of spiky hat and a long belt or rope that trailed behind her like a tail-- oh wait no, it WAS a tail. His bad. And looky there, the hat was actually horns. Welp.

"Aliens. Awesome," muttered Jimmy. "I was just starting to like this place." But apparently the oceans were full of water-skipping aliens waiting to jump out and rush the beach. Pffft, figured.

At this point Jimmy realized she wasn't running at him, per se, but the beach in general. She really didn't even seem to notice him. Well, that was... good, he guessed.

The alien was almost to the beach now. Jimmy backed up a pace or two, gripped the rifle to his chest... and then stared as she faceplanted into the sand. Well. That... solved that problem, he guessed.

He edged closer to get a better look. The alien was wearing some kind of low-tech stealth suit, seemingly unsuited for aquatic maneuvers. Her weapon tech seemed fairly old school as well, and similarly impractical for water combat. For an aquatic creature she sure seemed... land-lubberish.

Maybe she wasn't a local sea-inhabitant. Maybe she was running here to escape the water. And she looked supeer low tech, like a creature from one of those primitive class 13 planets that never learned space travel or internet. Oh man. Now Jimmy felt like a jerk. He lowered the rifle.

"Ummmmm.... hello?" he tried. Being an evil overlord's cannon fodder, Jimmy knew less about SAVING lives than he did ENDANGERING them. The alien looked unconscious. Oh man, what would a hero do?

"Hey up there!!" he yelled at a group of people working under the trees farther inland, "Need a medic here! Drowning victim!"

[Arhra]

> Be a better character.
You are now a coconut crab.

You are one of the top investigative crustaceans on the island. Solicitations for your coconut finding expertise are numerous in quantity. Compensation, adequate. It is a balmy summer morning. You are feeling particularly crabby today.

What will you do?

> Quickly retrieve coconuts from hedge.
You've had your eye stalks on this strange interloper moving around near the bar. You suspect he's a smuggler and that there may be a vast quantity of coconuts stashed inside he hedge he's hiding in. One way to find out. Alleyoop!

- IX -

Gleek found his surveillance of Riley and Zebrek interrupted by the sudden possibility of CRAB BATTLE. The crustacean trying to enter the hedge might blow his cover if he wasn't careful!

- IX -

As Riley and Zebrek talked, a wrinkly little old lady dressed in dusty black and wearing a pointy hat tottered over to them, a bulging pack on her back. "Hello dearies." she said, dark eyes twinkling in amidst a nest of wrinkles. "Lucky I ran into the two of you together - I have something you might be interested in, since I know you're a little sensitive to the Sun. I usually sell it as a tanning potion - it stops sunburn." she rummaged in her satchel and set two bottles on the table with a little clink. "For you, half price!"

As far as either of them had been able to tell, Mobaba Moiba was an honest to goodness witch, but a grandmotherly one rather than the candy house owning and children eating type. She sold potions, in all the variety a discerning consumer could possibly need. Suspicious, shady and questionable potions: she could make them all.

The witch apparently subsisted entirely on a diet of tea, little biscuits, whisky, mushrooms and her own potions, smoked constantly and could swear like a sailor when her good mood evaporated. Clearly not one to cross.

- IX -

"Morning! Pleasant day I must say." the somewhat piratical figure of Alastor said to Telm under the awning at the beachside bar.

"Mornin'" Telm said. "Thanks for saying you'd help out." He looked from Alastor to Band strained his foggy memory. Was that everyone who'd agreed to help out. It was pretty simple stuff - just moving some firewood down for the big bonfire and checking how the preparations were going. He'd sold it as a bit of a tour of the island, he thought. Ah well, maybe hang around for another ten minutes. Get everyone a drink and a snack from the cafe. Undine had opened it this morning.

"Hey up there!!" A man in black armour yelled from further down the beach, "Need a medic here! Drowning victim!"

Telm exchanged a look with Alastor and B and dashed over. "Well spotted, son." he said, patting Jimmy on the shoulder."

He looked down at Senna's unconscious form. Kinda cute. Tight clothes. Demonic. Ninja? Had clearly been out at sea for a long time. There was rotten seaweed and feathers in her matted red hair. She smelled like dead fish. He knew what the right thing, what the heroic thing to do was.

But, he was retired...

He looked around at the small crowd who'd headed over with him and Jimmy. "Guess someone had better give her mouth to mouth." he suggested.