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Description
Featuring Esk #4408
< Introduction | Chapter Two >

Their trepidation gradually dwindled away as the esk waded through the shallows; it was peaceful here, the cliffs looming up at one side and an endlessly vast desert of azure at their other. As they travelled, the ocean gradually revealed little things to them. Seaweed drifted here; it seemed unremarkable until they came across the forest of kelp it had come from, dark and frightening yet somehow friendly too—a place of safety. More shells were scattered through the sand, pearly white and brown and black ones, and red ones that might have ensnared the sunset in their smooth surface. Little pebbles accompanied them. Despite the dying sun, the waters remained so flawlessly clear—like a gentle promise from the ocean that it had nothing to hide, no nasty surprises to trip up this esk.

They had figured that the ocean would be big and blue and empty. They were wrong. Soon they stumbled upon reefs of corals and seagrasses and animals: schools of tiny fish darted by, or sometimes large lone ones would drift by and glance ponderously at the wandering stranger. Every imaginable sea-thing attacked their sights in a stupendous riot of colour: red and yellow and green and blue, and soft pale white and blackest black too. It all seemed ridiculously clashing, yet somehow everything worked together in a harmonious dance. Among all of this, the newcomer esk's presence was not even questioned, even though they felt like an intruder: it was lucky that they were so colourful too.

They still carried the big white shell, and stopped every so often to contemplate a place to put it. Here? What about here? They weren't sure where it went, to be truthful, but surely it had to have some sort of special place in this bizzare patchwork of things. Thankfully there weren't so many esk here anymore; only occasionally did they spot someone in the distance, far enough away that it was almost a peaceful sight. It allowed them to take their time with their painstaking journey, slowly traversing the line between earth and ocean, day and night.

Occasionally, an octopus flitted through the forests of kelp and coral, its numerous legs clinging elegantly to the rippling sand floor, its eyes on the shell. Though the esk would normally have fled from such a bizzare creature, it seemed friendly enough, silently allowing the esk's presence; and so they travelled as reluctant companions, the octopus occasionally resurfacing through the tangled weeds. The esk thought they also spied a turtle at one point, though they may have imagined it.

At last, the esk came to a stop. They weren't really sure where the perfect place for their treasure was, but there was sort of an empty spot here among the corals, and so they carefully took the shell and placed it on the shifting white sand. They stepped back to study it.

Suddenly, the octopus darted in and grabbed the shell.

Hey! the esk shouted in outrage, splashing towards it, ducking their head into the water to glare at it sternly. Leave that alone!

Naturally, the octopus said nothing back, but stared at the esk with insolent colourful eyes. Eyes just as colourful as everything else here—how ridiculous.

Put that down! the esk said again. They had not lugged that shell around for so long just for some eight-legged little thief to snatch it! Maybe this was the very same menace who'd left it at the shore in the first place. The esk slammed their paw down, sending a cloud of sand up and frightening a couple of little fish into the kelp.

But the octopus was utterly unfazed. It curled its limbs around the shell as though hugging it, lifting up one pointy end to face the esk defensively. It was quite obviously saying, Sorry. This is mine now.

The esk's ears drooped, head lowering to gaze closer at the octopus. Maybe it was all right. It felt all right, apart from their own petty outrage. Maybe the ocean didn't mind octopuses stealing its shells. Or maybe the octopus would take the job over from here, return the shell where it really belonged. The esk wasn't going to try arguing with the ocean, right?

All right, they agreed, albeit a little sulkily. Have it then, if it makes you feel so much better.

That was when they spotted another all-too-familiar gleam: the realisation of what it was was accompanied by an internal groan. The esk approached the perfectly round, smooth glass ball that was half-buried in the weeds, turning it with a paw and studying it closely. A fish bowl, one less roomy than the tank they'd once lived in. In disbelief, the esk sat down and stared at it. What was this thing doing here? It seemed that the ocean had a habit of turning up unexpected—and sometimes unwanted—surprises.

And, again, the esk had a lurking suspicion that it was their job to get it out of here. But that was ridiculous! They'd already brought the shell here, wasn't it enough? Why couldn't the ocean take better care of its possessions? Doing chores for the marine biome was not what the esk had imagined themselves doing today. A scowl knitting on their face, they unceremoniously grabbed the fish bowl and set off once again; the octopus nearby, still clutching its shell like a shield, faded into the coral behind them.

So, this new thing clearly belonged somewhere too. The esk would help bring it back to wherever that was, and then be out of here, and that was all. They'd had enough of the sea for one day.

ARTWORK SCORING
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+30 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+20 AP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+5 AP (Palette Bonus: Palette I.)
Total AP per submission: 75

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+10 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+10 GP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+2 GP (Palette Bonus: Palette I.)
Total GP per submission: 28

LITERATURE SCORING
Base Score: 18 AP (Writing: 938 words)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Marine Biome Bonus)
+8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)
Total AP per submission: 36

Base Score: 9 GP (Writing: 938 words)
+2 GP (Marine Biome Bonus)
+6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)
Total GP per submission: 17

Description
Featuring Esk #4408
< Introduction | Chapter Two >

Their trepidation gradually dwindled away as the esk waded through the shallows; it was peaceful here, the cliffs looming up at one side and an endlessly vast desert of azure at their other. As they travelled, the ocean gradually revealed little things to them. Seaweed drifted here; it seemed unremarkable until they came across the forest of kelp it had come from, dark and frightening yet somehow friendly too—a place of safety. More shells were scattered through the sand, pearly white and brown and black ones, and red ones that might have ensnared the sunset in their smooth surface. Little pebbles accompanied them. Despite the dying sun, the waters remained so flawlessly clear—like a gentle promise from the ocean that it had nothing to hide, no nasty surprises to trip up this esk.

They had figured that the ocean would be big and blue and empty. They were wrong. Soon they stumbled upon reefs of corals and seagrasses and animals: schools of tiny fish darted by, or sometimes large lone ones would drift by and glance ponderously at the wandering stranger. Every imaginable sea-thing attacked their sights in a stupendous riot of colour: red and yellow and green and blue, and soft pale white and blackest black too. It all seemed ridiculously clashing, yet somehow everything worked together in a harmonious dance. Among all of this, the newcomer esk's presence was not even questioned, even though they felt like an intruder: it was lucky that they were so colourful too.

They still carried the big white shell, and stopped every so often to contemplate a place to put it. Here? What about here? They weren't sure where it went, to be truthful, but surely it had to have some sort of special place in this bizzare patchwork of things. Thankfully there weren't so many esk here anymore; only occasionally did they spot someone in the distance, far enough away that it was almost a peaceful sight. It allowed them to take their time with their painstaking journey, slowly traversing the line between earth and ocean, day and night.

Occasionally, an octopus flitted through the forests of kelp and coral, its numerous legs clinging elegantly to the rippling sand floor, its eyes on the shell. Though the esk would normally have fled from such a bizzare creature, it seemed friendly enough, silently allowing the esk's presence; and so they travelled as reluctant companions, the octopus occasionally resurfacing through the tangled weeds. The esk thought they also spied a turtle at one point, though they may have imagined it.

At last, the esk came to a stop. They weren't really sure where the perfect place for their treasure was, but there was sort of an empty spot here among the corals, and so they carefully took the shell and placed it on the shifting white sand. They stepped back to study it.

Suddenly, the octopus darted in and grabbed the shell.

Hey! the esk shouted in outrage, splashing towards it, ducking their head into the water to glare at it sternly. Leave that alone!

Naturally, the octopus said nothing back, but stared at the esk with insolent colourful eyes. Eyes just as colourful as everything else here—how ridiculous.

Put that down! the esk said again. They had not lugged that shell around for so long just for some eight-legged little thief to snatch it! Maybe this was the very same menace who'd left it at the shore in the first place. The esk slammed their paw down, sending a cloud of sand up and frightening a couple of little fish into the kelp.

But the octopus was utterly unfazed. It curled its limbs around the shell as though hugging it, lifting up one pointy end to face the esk defensively. It was quite obviously saying, Sorry. This is mine now.

The esk's ears drooped, head lowering to gaze closer at the octopus. Maybe it was all right. It felt all right, apart from their own petty outrage. Maybe the ocean didn't mind octopuses stealing its shells. Or maybe the octopus would take the job over from here, return the shell where it really belonged. The esk wasn't going to try arguing with the ocean, right?

All right, they agreed, albeit a little sulkily. Have it then, if it makes you feel so much better.

That was when they spotted another all-too-familiar gleam: the realisation of what it was was accompanied by an internal groan. The esk approached the perfectly round, smooth glass ball that was half-buried in the weeds, turning it with a paw and studying it closely. A fish bowl, one less roomy than the tank they'd once lived in. In disbelief, the esk sat down and stared at it. What was this thing doing here? It seemed that the ocean had a habit of turning up unexpected—and sometimes unwanted—surprises.

And, again, the esk had a lurking suspicion that it was their job to get it out of here. But that was ridiculous! They'd already brought the shell here, wasn't it enough? Why couldn't the ocean take better care of its possessions? Doing chores for the marine biome was not what the esk had imagined themselves doing today. A scowl knitting on their face, they unceremoniously grabbed the fish bowl and set off once again; the octopus nearby, still clutching its shell like a shield, faded into the coral behind them.

So, this new thing clearly belonged somewhere too. The esk would help bring it back to wherever that was, and then be out of here, and that was all. They'd had enough of the sea for one day.

ARTWORK SCORING
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+30 AP (Full/Scenic Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+20 AP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+5 AP (Palette Bonus: Palette I.)
Total AP per submission: 75

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+10 GP (Full/Scenic Background)
+10 GP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+2 GP (Palette Bonus: Palette I.)
Total GP per submission: 28

LITERATURE SCORING
Base Score: 18 AP (Writing: 938 words)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+5 AP (Marine Biome Bonus)
+8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)
Total AP per submission: 36

Base Score: 9 GP (Writing: 938 words)
+2 GP (Marine Biome Bonus)
+6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)
Total GP per submission: 17