An Unknown Destiny [Reydan x Bejeweled]

[Reydan]

The waves washed upon the rocky beach, more peddles than sand, under a steel grey sky. Overhead a series of gulls circled and called, their shrill voices hard against the morning air. The sea was rough, but nowhere near as angry as it had been that night. A dozen ships had been lost up and down the coastline as huge waves and sheets of rain battered the small craft. One of them had been the Merrylee, a transport carrying a mixture of passengers and goods northwards to the great port city of Neverwinter. Now, though, on this stretch of barren shoreline there was little of the Merrylee left but water-sodden timbers smashed apart by the waves and rocks, the debris of its cargo scattered along the stony shore in ruin, and two figures some distance apart from each other who, without initially seeing each other, stirred at roughly the same time.

Mattrim rubbed his aching head as he slowly came too. There was the bitter taste of salt-water in his mouth and his eyes stung. Slowly, gingerly, the young human paladin ran a cold, wet, hand through his hair. The reddish brown tangle was mercifully free of blood or other signs of injury but was matted with sea water. With a twist of disgust on his face he tossed aside a piece of seaweed that had tangled in there and slowly struggled to his feet. He was a well-built 6'3, with large, expressive, sea-green eyes and a beard cut close to his jaw.

"Selune's mercy" he breathed, slowly patting himself down. He had elected for little more than sturdy leather armor for this trip, and was thankful that his usual plate armor had not been the cause of his demise now. Amazingly, he still had a long-sword strapped to his hip. Everything else looked lost, but that small mercy was not lost on the pious young man.

A little up the beach lay another figure. Mattrim dimly remembered him from the ship - a grizzled but friendly sailor. He was clearly dead, his face a ghastly pale and his eyes staring upwards at nothing. Kneeling, Mattrim closed those eyes and offered up a silent prayer to his goddess.

When he straightened up, his blue and green clothing still soaked through and chilling in the windy grey morning air, he saw another figure further up the beach, also struggling upright.

"Hello?!" he called out, setting off towards the other figure. "Are you...did you also survive the wreck? Do you need aid?"

 

[Bejeweled]

𝕹𝖞𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖆 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖓​

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It was a string of bad luck that landed the young tiefling secured within the belly of a ship, slowly unworking the loose, amateurish knot that bound her hands to one of its mast, and nothing more. Or, at least, so she'd insist – whether this was the case, whether someone had betrayed her, or, though it was the furthest of her considerations, she'd simply been inept at her task, it didn't seem that she'd ever find out.

When the ship groaned to a stop, Nymeria had assumed they had reached port, and had broken the rope once and for all, preparing herself for a fight, but it would never come. Within moments, the hull began filling with salty seawater, and with one more gulp of breath, the young woman had shifted fluidly from fight to flight, kicking until her sole tore at the planks of the brig until one finally snapped. The weakness of one felled the others, and soon enough, there was enough of a gap for the petite figure to squirm through.

Barely surfacing before her lungs burst, hacking coughs gave way to gasping breaths, and once she felt even somewhat stabilized, she began thrashing towards shore; she'd never been the strongest swimmer, but shore was only a few ship lengths' away, and soon enough, she was collapsing, exhausted, on the shore.

Sprawled, the tiefling barely spanned five and a half feet, a bit shorter when standing, and she was slim enough to slip through bars in a standard brig, though she wasn't quite skin-and-bones. There was a quiet air of strength about her, muscles toned and flexing as her body struggled to return to its comfortable resting state. Soaked, long black hair clung to her face and neck, falling back into place even as she tried to throw it over her shoulder.

Ears ringing, the specific words the approaching figure spoke weren't discernable, but though his body language didn't seem threatening, Nymeria still steeled herself, one hand on the knife strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath her plain trousers.

"Who are you?" she demanded, the sound of her voice cutting through the shrill tone piercing her eardrums. Squinting, she focused intently on his mouth, hoping that the small amount of sound slowly returning to her and her ability to lipread would not lead her astray.​

---

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[Reydan]

She was a tiefling. That much was obvious from her red skin and horns. Her fiery eyes flashing as she looked at him.

They were both soaked, the sea water dripping from their bodies and clinging to their clothes. He saw her tense, though, and held out his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture.

"I'm...." he paused. The thoughts, even basic facts, seemed to come slowly. Like he had to draw them through thick fog. His brows knotted, for just a moment, before his name swam into focus. "Mattrim" he finished with an awkward, lopsided, grin.

"Were you on the ship?" he asked, gesturing at the debris around them. "I don't remember you, I'm afraid. But I...I don't remember a lot for some reason..." he rubbed his head, an odd ringing echoing in his ears as the gulls circled and called overhead.

Looking away from the tiefling, he scanned along the shore. Everything was still except the movement of the sea and the gulls. None of the other dark figures washed up on the sand moved at all. They were alone. Completely alone. And he had no idea where they were or, maybe more troublingly, where he should head. Where was home? Who, really, was he?!

He stuffed that concern down. No need to worry this stranger with that. Besides, he was a paladin. His duty was to focus on others rather than himself.

"I think we are the only survivors" he said, frowning. "And we should get out of this wind. There might be some shelter if we climb the shoreline and move inland?"