Odyssey Chapter 1; Finding Your Footing - Sigurd

The journey back through the woods to the ship was a somber affair. No one spoke, no one dared to even try as they trudged step by step through the thick underbrush to the sandy shores beyond. The ship itself, now in plain view, offered a small sense of solace. Like a welcomed friend there to greet you in a time of great turmoil.

 Indeed, the old and battered war ship called the Knarr was a source of fleeting joy to Sigurd as his hands came to meet with its knarled wooden hull once more. A sigh escaping his pursed lips as his weary gaze wandered back to the treeline. This final act of looking behind him was Sigurds only way he could muster a final goodbye. This accursed island would be his kins burial ground. They fought bravely and died as men, he knew, thus Sigurd hoped their memories would live on and their souls will have found rest at last. He hoped his soul too could find its rest once they were far from this bloody shore. 

Clambering up the rickety ladder that reached down to the lapping waves, Sigurd took hold and make his quick ascent onto the deck - taking his place amongst the oars they would need to paddle with until they made it out into deeper waters. The mood aboard with those still alive, or mostly so, was Forlorn. Much had been lost while the gain through the slaying of this mighty beast wasn't as tangible as they had hoped. There was no telling how many lives were saved with the Dragons eradication. And yet, there was no way of knowing if it would have ever become a problem at all. 

Shaking the permiating thoughts away, the crew began the brutal row against the tide. Using every remaining ounce of strength they had to cut through the oceans waves and allow the ship to drift its way into open water. With a final pull and a groan, the Knarr once again was free to wander the broader seas with the wind and the sails taking charge. However, just like their approach to the island was initially deterred by the sudden sweeping of harsh winds, once again the intensity and strength of them had never been matched. 

The violence of this wind tore through the sails like invisible claws, leaving shreds to ripple violently in its stead. The sea churned, turning dark to match the now twisted sky up above. A bad omen, Sigurd thought, as his gaze lay fixated on the heavens who's displeasure was now being made clear as the Knarr ventured onward. "Chief! Should we tie up the secondary set of sails?" Sigurd called, now snapping out of his thoughts, realizing quickly that they needed to escape this storm or they too would be shredded to pieces. However his chief shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the storm a sense of knowing in his gaze. 

"We must save those for when we make it out of this. Grab your oars men!!" Their chiefs voice boomed in unison with the crashing seas. "Row for your lives, and just maybe, we might make it out of here!" 

Racing to their posts, every able bodied man grabbed their oars once more and fought against the frothing sea. Each only focused on pulling the wood oar backwards and forwards in a rhythmic fashion. A feeble attempt of desperate men to pretend like they could take control here in a storm the likes of which they had never seen. The sheer magnitude of its winds and swells would surely drag them under, the rains threatening to drown them where they stood... when suddenly as they all braced for the ship and them to meet their end the storm was suddenly gone. 

The air was now still, the waters calm, the colors of the sky and the sea a different hue. Even the sea breeze smelt.. unusual. Sigurd swiftly dropped his oar and leaned over the side of the ship, his eyes scanning the horizon, looking for anything familiar yet instead he spotted another unknown body of land in the distance. "Where has the storm gone?" The crew muttered to each other as they too took in the scene before them. Like it had come, suddenly it was gone, leaving them on still waters and strange tides. 

"Land ho Chief. Shall we try our luck?" Sigurd called up, his eyes never leaving the body of land beyond. 

"Ay, we shall make port there for now. Until we can access the damage to the Knarr." 

His chiefs words were the last ones spoken as the crew dashed this way and that to dump water over the sides of the ship or take to broken oars to row them to shore. A third wind of energy pushing the weary crew to their new destination- realizing they were indeed in a different land. Pulling up to a bustling town they'd quickly come to call Newport. They were further from home now then they had ever been before, Solaria stood between them and the home they all desperately wished to return to.