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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 53 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 53 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Doctor Corin was supervising the recovery of the surgically and medicinally valuable hag venom. Master Selked was directing the removal of the beaks for use in tool making. All of the galley crews were on deck, cutting up and cooking down the Hags to make the fireproofing extracts that could be applied to many things. The ‘hide,’ the big flat cartilaginous spiral that served the Hag for a shell, was being opened, stretched flat and cleaned. Strong Skins were being flensed and the meat pickled, dried, and cut into big roasts for immediate use. Their valuable hides were being stretched on frames for drying and hung from the rigging because there was no more deck space available.

The fireproofing extracts prepared from the Hags were applied to rigging and sails as swiftly as they could be made.

Now that they had learned to use it, the catapult had a better use than ship to ship combat.

After a week, during which they also took a much smaller Wing Ray and added it’s delicately flavored meat to their stores, along with it’s valuable hide, bone and fangs, the storm began to break up over the colder waters of the northern latitudes.

The Grandalor ran north, through the winds and thunderstorms of the decaying Coriolis Storm, for the safety of the Dragon Sea.

When they finally got to calmer seas, the armored hide of the Wing Ray was added to the reinforcing of the Grandalor’s bow.

Far to the south, the battered Naral fleet was assembling and making repairs. They had been fortunate. No ships and few lives were lost. Many sails had to be repaired or replaced and much rigging. A few masts and some spars or yardarms needed replacement.

Everyone was looking with envy at the Dark Dragon and the Soaring Bird.

Both ships had come through the storm without damage of any kind. They had been instrumental in gathering the fleet back together. The two catamarans had such large deck spaces that it was not necessary to raise a shipbuilding raft to make repairs.

Many Captains made careful note of the special storm rigs that had seen the two through.

In ranging about to find the last of the stragglers, the Soaring Bird had come across a broken spar with blown out and destroyed sail attached. When it was pulled aboard, a line from it was found to be attached to a fragment of railing, trailing broken standing rigging for a mainmast. When the Naral fleet was all gathered, the fragment failed to match the damage of any ship present.

The Fauline straggled in late, having survived the storm. In response to questions about the obvious damage and hasty repairs, Skua told a tale of having intercepted the Grandalor as the Fauline was coming north from the Arrakan fleet. The Grandalor, he claimed, had rammed them clumsily in an attempt to force them to pay provisions and Strong Skins. They had been saved by the very storm that had apparently taken the Grandalor.

A Council of Captains was called aboard the Dark Dragon, where there was sufficient space. Hored of the Grython took the meeting’s helm in Sarfin’s absence. After the usual formalities, the meeting got down to its real purpose.

“It appears that we no longer have to search for the Grandalor,” Hored pronounced. “We have been able to positively identify the broken spar and rigging fragment. It definitely came from the Grandalor. The fragment of railing and the rigging that was still attached to it demonstrates that her mainmast went down in the storm. The broken standing rigging and the way that the spar pivot lashings were ruptured shows that the mast could not have stood. They must have swamped in minutes.

“I move that we call off this expensive search and get back to the business of life.”

The motion was seconded and passed by a relieved group of Captains.

Captain Hored signaled for the floor again. “I have two more items to lay before this Council. The first, and far the most important, is this. The many efforts of Captains Sula Corin and Huld Barsan on behalf of our fleet should be recognized by a vote of thanks and a refund of their reasonable expenses.

“My second item is related to the first. Let us give them the freedom to fish our entire territory without limit. They have shown themselves worthy of the honor. I cannot think of any that I would rather share fishing waters with.”

Sula signaled for recognition and, when Hored acknowledged her, stood. “The offer that you have made is most generous. Our expenses are already being covered by the Corlis and Barant fleets. With the damage that you have all had from this storm, we’d not deplete your fleet treasury further.

“The offer of thanks and fishing rights we will accept gladly. Not trespassing on your fishing rights has seriously depleted our stores. The opportunity to resupply is most welcome. You have been generous hosts.” She sat to polite applause.

The vote was quick and unanimous.

“We must notify the Longin and Dorton,” Hored said deliberately. “They are starting the map that we commissioned, and working the northerly blockade. They are presently somewhere about 750 North by 200 West. Who will volunteer to go?”

Once again it was Sula who stood. “Captain Hored, we will go and let the Longin and Dorton know the situation.

“There is no urgency to this news. Captain Huld and myself need to return to our own fleets with the information that we came here to get. From here, it will make little difference whether we go back the way that we came, go on about the globe, or go north through the Dragon Sea and the pole.

“Even with the repairs that we are helping with here, we should be able to get them the news in less than two Wohans.”

“Luve,” said Tanlin, lounging back in her chair in their cabin, “we are only safe ‘ere in t’e Dragon Sea so long as we seek justice under Naral fleet law. We need on emissary ‘oo can persuade t’em t’ set aside t’eir ruling an’ give us a proper trial wit’ t’e right t’ rebut included.”

Barad rested his chin in one hand and drummed the fingers of the other on the table where their game of Three Dragons had been put aside. “I can only think of one person that the whole feet would listen to. The problem is, she wouldn’t listen to anything that I have to say.”

“I’ we can convince ‘er, Barad, t’en we’ve ‘ope. ‘Oo is she — — — Ye connae mean Kurin!” Tanlin sat bolt upright in her chair. Pain suddenly flooded her eyes. “Somet’in’s wrong wit’ Skye!” She leaped for the cabin door.

“The female Wide Wing?” Barad called after her.

“Aye! Get Doctor Corin!” she called over her shoulder as she shot up the companionway ladder to the deck. She sprinted for the ratlines of the mainmast and swarmed up toward the Wide Wing’s nest. The male, Thunderhead, raised his wings and hissed in threat until he realized that it was Tanlin, a part of his flock. He calmed and hopped to the rail, allowing her to get to his mate. Skye was sitting the nest, shivering, wings held tight to her body in pain. Gently, Tanlin picked her up. She could see the egg that was only partly protruded. She felt the bird’s lower abdomen carefully.

As if he could understand, Tanlin spoke softly to Thunderhead, “She’s egg bound, ‘t ‘appens sometimes t’ paddle ducks, t’. We can save ‘er but Oi ‘ave t’ take ‘er down t’ t’e doctor. Ye need t’ keep t’e ot’er twa eggs warm, OK?” He chirruped plaintively and hopped down from the railing, settling onto the nest.

Tanlin carried the suffering bird carefully down the rigging to the deck, then sprinted to the infirmary. Doctor Corin was already waiting for her.

“She’s egg bound, Doctor. I’ we donnae free ‘t, she’ll die!” cried Tanlin in distress.

“Can you push the egg back into her some?” asked Doctor Corin calmly.

“Oi dunnae know. In t’e Arrakan fleet, we always made a small incision in t’e muscle o’ t’e sphincter,” she answered.

“Try to push the egg back in, first. If I can lubricate it with this oil, it will probably come out without further difficulty. If we cut her, there is always a risk of tissue tearing or infection.”

“Hush, sweetie,” Tanlin said gently to the bird, “Skye, we ‘ave t’ put ye on yer bock, ‘ere. OK?” The Wide Wing made a small, high pitched cry. “‘Ere we go, Skye.” Tanlin laid the bird on her back. The powerful Sea Hawk did not struggle, even keeping her talons withdrawn into her feathers.

Tanlin pushed carefully on the egg. She was able to make it go back in a little ways.

Doctor Corin immediately forced a lavage syringe, usually used to wash blood from wounds, in next to the egg, and squirted in a quantity of oil. He withdrew the syringe and instructed Tanlin, “Massage her around the egg.”

As Tanlin’s fingers worked around the egg, it began to protrude again, then slowly slid free into her waiting hands.

She held the exhausted Sea Hawk close and triumphantly told her, “Ye did ‘t, Skye! Bot’ ye an’ yer egg are safe!” Tanlin tied the egg securely into her scarf and carried Skye back up to the nest. There, Thunderhead hopped back up to rail, while Tanlin put the egg into the nest and put Skye back onto the clutch.

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 53 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 8)

From the foot of the double doors of the Plushie Palace's main doors and past its massive neosteel gates of the Plushie Palace, two security guards dressed like medieval knights rolled out a red carpet, before an employee dressed as a royal herald ran out, who was followed shortly by a cadre of flying drones with fancy hats like the handmaidens, squires, and scribes of yore.

Tony set the cab down right at the edge of the carpet. “Enjoy yourself in there!” he grinned and laughed, before his projector deactivated, and the door swung open.

The herald put her trumpet/megaphone to her lips. “Hear ye, hear ye! Returning to the Plushie Palace, these Hallowed Halls of Imagination, the Fortress of Fun, the Place of Furry Friends for everyone:

“Lady Winter Schnee, and her sister, Lady Weiss Schnee!”

Winter daintily stepped out onto the red carpet, trying and failing to keep composed and dignified as she waved and smiled at the welcoming party and the small crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk. A Handmaiden-Bot floated up to her head, and daintily put a modest white crown on her head, its points shaped like the fractals of a snowflake.

It was made out of sturdy, visually striking, but otherwise cheap polymers, but Winter still squealed and jumped with delight, eyes bright and smile as radiant as the first time she was first there at the age of 3.

A different Handmaiden-Bot hovered over to Weiss, with her own personal crown. She tried to wave it off, but it insistently hovered and beeped beside her, so she sighed, and let it put it on her own head, too.

The other “Servant” Bots floated in formation beside them, flapping their “wings” in unison, the “face” panels on their round bodies all looking as dignified as two dots and a single line could be. Winter took it in stride, holding her head up high in appropriately regal fashion before she sashayed down the red carpet.

Weiss looked at the pedestrians laughing, smiling, shaking their heads, or recording the whole spectacle with their phone, then she turned to her sister, happily soaking up the attention. She sighed playfully, and hurried on after her—in the dignified and proper manner of a fellow Lady of the Court, of course!

The herald put her trumpet/megaphone under her arm and fell in step with them. “Know that even with your long absence, milady, the Plushie Palace still welcomes you as warmly and heartily as it always did!” she said. “The halls may expand and rearrange themselves, the faces of the staff and the guard may change, but all your perks and privileges are forever, as per your lifetime membership and the graces granted by the Lady Scarlatina and her predecessors.”

“Wonderful to hear, my good woman!” Winter said in an exaggeratedly “proper” voice.

Weiss resisted the urge to snicker.

“Are there any orders and requests you wish done for this visit, milady?”

“Yes,” Winter said, “I want every single plushie I have ever ordered from your company or had been gifted to me to be remade, exactly as I got them the day they came off the fabricators, errors and all. Flubber Butter is not Flubber Butter without his one slightly larger than the other eye, and don’t you think that I don’t remember exactly which side it was on!”

The herald put her hand to her chest. “We would never dare, milady! Then, now, and forevermore, we take great pains to make all of our creations exactly to how our loyal patrons wish them to be. I must warn you though, that due to legal constrictions, company policy, and the inevitable passing of some of our artisans, we are unable to reproduce most of the limited edition and/or handmade plushies, for obvious reasons.”

Winter sighed. “It’s no trouble; I’ve made peace with the fact that Dr. Blep belongs to another now...”

The herald nodded sympathetically. “Tis tragic, but take heart: we have far more friends to make new memories with than ever before,” she said, smiling. “Would you like me to lead you to our newest additions, milady?”

“Later,” Winter said as they passed under the gate and into the massive front gardens/courtyard.

She grinned as she watched patrons old and young spread out all over the tables, benches, and gazebos, having tea parties and spirited discussions with their beloved inanimate friends occupying the other seats, all persons and plushies dressed in all manner of outfits and of course, fancy hats.

“I want to explore with just my sister for a while,” she finished as they came to the massive double doors leading into the palace proper.

“Enjoy yourselves, milady,” the herald said. “And if you need any assistance, there is as many willing hands as ever, just waiting to rush to your aid!” she said before bowed out, and disappeared.

Two guards at either side of the door greeted her and pushed open the massive double doors; Weiss and Winter had to shield their eyes as they stepped into the Palace's foyer, with its marble floors and silken banners, the portraits of the Plushie Palace’s former and current CEO’s lining the walls, and the massive, elaborate, and antique chandelier hovering far above their heads, casting it all in a bright, wondrous light.

Just a few centuries ago, the Plushie Palace would have probably just been a massive showcase for PR purposes, with the actual store being in a more discrete area of shelves upon shelves of boxed plushies ready to be plucked and brought to the counter, or a large and expansive warehouse that was kept out of sight and access but to the employees.

But advances in telecommunication, logistics, and automated manufacturing had made it so that comm-crystal shopping made physical stores all but obsolete, if all you needed was the products they offered; C-Commerce was just much faster, infinitely more convenient, and offered a whole host of luxuries and advantages that its counterpart could not.

So the physical stores and locations adapted, offered something their technomagical counterpart could not:

An experience.

Winter and Weiss wandered through elaborate show rooms: grand dining halls, palatial sets, and famous landmarks from Avalon's numerous cultures, both real and fictional; lovingly recreated scenes from pop culture and timeless tales; exciting displays such as plushie pilots flying through the air, trying to gun each other down with harmless balls of charged air, collecting the other team's aviator's caps and scarves for trophies as they flew off their owners' heads and fluttered to the ground.

They marveled at museums that chronicled the history of the company, the evolution of their trademark fabrics that became the de facto choice for premium plush toys, famous owners, interesting anecdotes, lovingly preserved examples of the works of their deceased masters and mistresses of the needle and thread, generously donated items from collectors who wished to inspire and delight a new generation of plush toy lovers.

(Winter sighed as she passed by Leela Lucavi, her limited edition Jasper Lamia toy with actual jasper gems for eyes from an earlier, long-over run of the Monsters and Mythology line. She cast a longing look over her shoulder at her beloved companion now floating in the center of a protective crystal case, until Weiss tugged at her sleeve and they continued on.)

And most importantly, Winter got to handle and see the toys with her own eyes and hands than a virtual simulator, dress them up in all manner of elaborate outfits herself, be the one to rigorously test whatever topper suited her fancy for that particular toy's visage, before finally sitting down with them in tea tables, dens, and meeting rooms, seeing if she would enjoy their presence after she had “a brief chat” with them over actual, excellently brewed tea and freshly baked goods, provided by their food-and-beverage lessees.

(Weiss joined in with her sister's screening process, getting less and less patient with her thorough standards, until she learned that among said lessees was a Fiorina's, and she could enjoy a triple chocolate cake shake in lieu of tea.)

All the while, childhood companions were lovingly recreated, lopsided ears, misshapen eyes, and miscoulored patterns and all, the extremely rare hiccups in an otherwise flawless fabrication process that one could only experience after being so unlucky, or ordering an extremely large number of plushies over a very long period of time.

As the numbers for Winter's bill kept on rising, gaining more commas, and going even further to the left, Weiss suddenly understood why their father had not been as enamored with these ridiculously adorable, soft, and cuddly toys as she, her sister, and their mother were.

Many hours later, Winter visited the last location on her list: the always shifting “Special of the Month” wings. As it was Autumn everywhere else in Avalon (Candela and the Viridian Valley only experienced two seasons: “The Fury and The Flood”), and the Eve of the Ether was coming up in little over a month, the theme was:

“Fun and Frights!”

Winter and Weiss both had second thoughts as they came up to the display at the entrance, showing off the annual return of the Plushie Palace's Keeper of the Grove plushies. In spite of their reputation for making ANYTHING cute, they were still a popular component in mean-spirited pranks this time of the year, if just their glowing red button-eyes in light or darkness. The two of them decided to give it a wide berth as they entered the area and checked out the much less terrifying offerings—Winter casting glances over her shoulder every now and then.

She added a few more plushies, outfits, and hats to her growing collection, until they reached a room-wide set piece, for just one item at the center of it all:

“Eluna, the White Wolf, the Moonlight Huntress, the Protector of the City of Solaris—the Limited Edition version!” Winter cried as she rushed up to its stand, a miniature mountain. “I thought you couldn't see these anymore outside of private collections!”

Weiss stopped. She looked at the plush toy inside the protective crystal casing: a white wolf, with a long, flowing mane that glowed like pale moonlight. Where had she heard that before…?

“She’s the guardian deity of the city, back when it was still a struggling port town, their symbolism for the incredibly dangerous swamp creatures that protected them from foreign invaders and each other alike,” Winter said, seemingly reading her mind as she skirted around the display, leaning down and standing up on the balls of her feet, admiring the toy from every angle. “Kind of like the Keeper of the Grove, except benevolent and infinitely less terrifying!”

Winter stopped at the front of it, leaning forward and gazing into the plush toy's face, admiring the incredibly intricate detail in the stitching and the fabric. “In the promotional cartoon, she was the mentor figure and overall leader of the group, the source of the other Lunar Warriors' powers, their defender from threats both from without and within, striking down foes with her Starlight Spear, and helping her wards overcome their personal demons with her boundless compassion and wisdom.”

Thunk. Winter squished her face into the glass.

“I had the BIGGEST crush on her when I was a kid!” she cried. “Still do, actually! I mean, yes, she’s fictional and a wolf, but her voice actress gives me SHIVERS when she says her battle cry, and when she cosplays humanoid Ellie at cons and public appearances--” she made a noise that made Weiss rather uncomfortable.

She slowly stepped up some distance behind Winter, still thinking. Where had she heard that before…? She blinked. “Wait, didn't you keep talking for like a year about how you mom was getting you one?”

“8 months and 23 days!” Winter replied. “I forgot how much I wanted her...” she said as she put her hand to the glass. “And now I remember just how badly...” she whispered, tearing up. “The review sites that got exclusive copies said it really was objectively the softest, fluffiest, cuddliest plush toy the company has ever produced, and every single lucky person who managed to get one themselves say it's even better than they said!

“They haven't produced a single plushie that's been able to match it in terms of pure softness and cuddling experience—even less likely now that the special secret fabric blend they used died with its inventor...” she moped.

“Why didn't you get it?” Weiss asked.

Winter sighed, slowly pulling away from the crystal case. The smudge mark she'd left disappeared in a wave of energy pulsing up and down the surface. “Mom said we we'd buy it after we got back from our trip...” she frowned. “… You know, that trip.”

Weiss' own face fell. “Ah...”

Winter cast one last longing look at the Eluna plushie, before she turned around. “I suppose that's life: some things just pass you by...”

“… Or maybe they were just waiting for you to come back,” said a third voice.

Winter and Weiss looked up, smiled as they saw a familiar face with the same iconic bunny ears atop her headband:

Velvet Scarlatina, latest of the Scarlatina family and heiress of the Plushie Palace, smiled and bowed.

“Welcome back, Miladies Schnee~!”

#white rose #rwby #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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