Tumdor could hear the soft sounds of waves crashing and could smell the sea salt air as he approached the steep cliff leading down to Beachwyn. He looked over the ram shackled huts standing on stilts above the bright blue sea. Tin rooves and wooden huts piled endlessly on top of each other as if trying to scramble away from something beneath the surface. Fishermen and sea traders bustled around their boats, but something caught Tumdor’s eye, they seemed to be wearing armour. ‘What kind of fishermen wear armour?’ he thought to himself. Tumdor could sense danger but before he could react he felt a dull thud on the back of his head and then darkness.
When he awoke he could hear the panicked voices of men.
‘I told you that sorcerer would come in handy, if we run into it out here he might be our only chance’. Tumdor stood up slowly, his head still heavy from the blow that must have knocked him out. He thought he was unsteady on his feet at first but he soon realised that he was stood on a rocking boat.
‘Ah, you’re awake’ said one of the sailors with a straggly beard and well used leather armour. ‘The sea is getting rough out here, hopefully there is a storm brewing’. ‘Hopefully? I mean,,,you want a storm?’ replied Tumdor.
‘If it ain’t a storm, it is something much worse’ replied the sailor, ‘and a sorcerer like you could be our only chance’.
‘Ah, that’s why you kidnapped me’ spat Tumdor but no sooner had he finished speaking, a huge tentacled arm reached from the water and splashed down into the sea next to them sending waves crashing over the side of the fishing boat. The voices of the men became more panicked now ‘quick, do something’ said the sailor. Tumdor rifles through his pack looking for the ingredients for a spell. He pulled out some magic fossils, a bag of dried fairy dust and some solidified troll drool for a spell that will teleport the monster to wherever he wished.
As the boat rocked violently back and forth Tumdor struggled to cast his spell. He uttered the words in the old tongue and waved his wand as the waves become ever bigger. His spell was cast and he saw the huge tentacled beast disappear before he lost his footing and tumbled overboard with a yelp and a splash.
Suddenly he is cold, gasping for air and reaching for a shiny speckled light, is that the surface?
He awoke coughing and spluttering back on the deck of the badly damaged fishing boat. A makeshift sail had been made from whatever could be found on board.
‘We thought we had lost you there’ said the sailor, beard even more bedraggled although he had lost his leather armour.
‘Where am I?’ mumbled Tumdor.
‘Our boat was damaged in that magic battle you had with the kraken. You were lost overboard, we dragged you out and you were clutching this…’. The sailor held out his palm and there was the jagged green shard of crystal. ‘We are drifting down through the Southswell, no doubt we will end up at the bleed and we’ll have to take our chances in the swamplands’. As the boat drifts along the rocky cliff shoreline of the Southswell a stunned silence took over the boat. Sailors awe struck and stunned as they gazed over the starboard rail. In the face of the enormous rocky cliff, carved almost perfectly, was the huge tentacled beast.
*All pictures are used for educational purposes only.
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