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Description
Featuring Esk #4408
Introduction | Chapter Two <

At last the tug of gravity seemed to cease: they were momentarily weightless. Now the pull was up, towards the big bright world, and joy burst in the esk. They surged through the still waters which were now as light as feathers on their skin, as though the dusk-red skies far above were calling to them; at last, these were summons that they were quite happy to answer. They did like the sea, very much—it was surreal and beautiful and looked like something from another world. But it also felt very, very frightening. The esk would be glad to flee it and find themselves on land once more.

The two remora fish still clung to them, a reminder of their final duty. Their touch was not unpleasant: it was surprisingly strong and even slightly tickly. In fact, the esk almost felt affectionate towards them, and almost caught themselves wistfully thinking it'd be nice to have friends such as these back home. But they were not like an esk, who could go anywhere as long as the earth's pulsing heart still guided their step—they were little fish very much alive, and most likely they would die in the esk's mountain lake. They would die here too, if the esk didn't find them someone to take care of them.

Maybe it was the clingy little friends who were so familiar with this home, almost guiding the esk, but somehow the esk gazed around the ocean with newfound eyes as they swam. It wasn't so still anymore—schools of fish darted all over the place, though they always managed to zoom out of sight when the esk came near. They had been a fish too, once. Occasionally an enormous lumbering shadow would drift through the distant blue, vast as a lake, and the esk would speed away all the faster, awed and terrified. That was exactly what they feared when they thought of how scary the ocean was, yet it was also the kind of majesty you would see nowhere else, and they regretted how fearfully they fled; if only they were a little more courageous, able to remain unquailing in the face of nature's gripping gaze. It was comforting to know the remoras felt the same way. Perhaps the ocean was as natural as breathing to them, but there were still deadly predators here, the kind that made the esk glad they were just the barest ghost. A passing ripple, unable to be harmed.

Another dark shape against the bloodsoaked rays of the sun, directly in the path of the esk's pull. They stopped uncertainly, as though to let the drifting creature pass—but then the remoras tugged urgently at them, pulling at their fluffy ears like reins, and the esk realised that this was what they were looking for. With a mounting sense of dread, they reluctantly kicked back into a jerky swim, dragged nearer and nearer to the monstrous creature.

It was a shark. Its eyes were the night sky void of stars; the esk carefully avoided eye contact, their rounded gaze instead moving over its pointed fins, vast white underbelly, its rippling grey muscle like elephant hide but perfectly smooth. The remoras were pleased, they weakly noted: they immediately abandoned the esk and flitted through the water, looking frighteningly small and vulnerable without a big companion to protect them, and settled along the shark's flanks. There were a few other remoras already there.

The esk tried to be polite, mostly out of intimidation. "Er... thanks for taking care of them," they tried to call out. The shark's eerie, unblinking gaze gave away nothing, but the esk prevailed. "They really missed you. I'm sure you'll do a great job taking care of them." Was that a good compliment? Maybe sharks didn't understand compliments.

For a few moments they looked at each other, and at last, the shark began drifting forward once more; relief rushed through the esk. They waited patiently for a few moments more as the odd collection of fish ambled away, then darted towards the light once more, muscles sparking with energy. No tug anymore, whether this way or that—they were free. It was the ocean's message that they had their permission to leave.

Now that their task was complete, the esk couldn't feel resentful about doing the ocean's chores. They had seen... so much. More, really, than they saw at the lake in years. And throughout all these breathtaking sights, they had noticed one common thing—as powerful and vast as the seas were, they were held in a delicate balance that was so easy to disrupt. Wasn't it this esk's job, as a guardian of nature, to help fix things like that? They'd felt the humming of a foreign object in the reef, of some little fish in desperate need of help: those were the kinds of calls they could not ignore.

At long last, their head broke the surface and they scrambled gratefully into warm dry air, the sunset spilling scarlet over their coat as they shook themselves dry. The world here was unchanged: jagged shadowed cliffs painted in green foliage, stars beginning to peer through the sunset, the water rippling contemplatively. It was easy to believe that nothing had changed: the esk might have never entered the water at all.

It was intimidating, honestly, to think about having duties or responsibilities... Right now, the esk was happy enough to just live in the aftermath of their adventure. That glorious feeling of going home.

ARTWORK SCORING
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+10 AP (Simple/Vignette Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+20 AP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+5 AP (Palette Bonus: Palette IX.)
Total AP per submission: 55

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+4 GP (Simple/Vignette Background)
+10 GP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+2 GP (Palette Bonus: Palette IX.)
Total GP per submission: 22

LITERATURE SCORING
Base Score: 18 AP (Writing: 916 words)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)
+5 AP (Marine Biome Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 36

Base Score: 9 GP (Writing: 916 words)
+6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)
+2 GP (Marine Biome Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 17

Description
Featuring Esk #4408
Introduction | Chapter Two <

At last the tug of gravity seemed to cease: they were momentarily weightless. Now the pull was up, towards the big bright world, and joy burst in the esk. They surged through the still waters which were now as light as feathers on their skin, as though the dusk-red skies far above were calling to them; at last, these were summons that they were quite happy to answer. They did like the sea, very much—it was surreal and beautiful and looked like something from another world. But it also felt very, very frightening. The esk would be glad to flee it and find themselves on land once more.

The two remora fish still clung to them, a reminder of their final duty. Their touch was not unpleasant: it was surprisingly strong and even slightly tickly. In fact, the esk almost felt affectionate towards them, and almost caught themselves wistfully thinking it'd be nice to have friends such as these back home. But they were not like an esk, who could go anywhere as long as the earth's pulsing heart still guided their step—they were little fish very much alive, and most likely they would die in the esk's mountain lake. They would die here too, if the esk didn't find them someone to take care of them.

Maybe it was the clingy little friends who were so familiar with this home, almost guiding the esk, but somehow the esk gazed around the ocean with newfound eyes as they swam. It wasn't so still anymore—schools of fish darted all over the place, though they always managed to zoom out of sight when the esk came near. They had been a fish too, once. Occasionally an enormous lumbering shadow would drift through the distant blue, vast as a lake, and the esk would speed away all the faster, awed and terrified. That was exactly what they feared when they thought of how scary the ocean was, yet it was also the kind of majesty you would see nowhere else, and they regretted how fearfully they fled; if only they were a little more courageous, able to remain unquailing in the face of nature's gripping gaze. It was comforting to know the remoras felt the same way. Perhaps the ocean was as natural as breathing to them, but there were still deadly predators here, the kind that made the esk glad they were just the barest ghost. A passing ripple, unable to be harmed.

Another dark shape against the bloodsoaked rays of the sun, directly in the path of the esk's pull. They stopped uncertainly, as though to let the drifting creature pass—but then the remoras tugged urgently at them, pulling at their fluffy ears like reins, and the esk realised that this was what they were looking for. With a mounting sense of dread, they reluctantly kicked back into a jerky swim, dragged nearer and nearer to the monstrous creature.

It was a shark. Its eyes were the night sky void of stars; the esk carefully avoided eye contact, their rounded gaze instead moving over its pointed fins, vast white underbelly, its rippling grey muscle like elephant hide but perfectly smooth. The remoras were pleased, they weakly noted: they immediately abandoned the esk and flitted through the water, looking frighteningly small and vulnerable without a big companion to protect them, and settled along the shark's flanks. There were a few other remoras already there.

The esk tried to be polite, mostly out of intimidation. "Er... thanks for taking care of them," they tried to call out. The shark's eerie, unblinking gaze gave away nothing, but the esk prevailed. "They really missed you. I'm sure you'll do a great job taking care of them." Was that a good compliment? Maybe sharks didn't understand compliments.

For a few moments they looked at each other, and at last, the shark began drifting forward once more; relief rushed through the esk. They waited patiently for a few moments more as the odd collection of fish ambled away, then darted towards the light once more, muscles sparking with energy. No tug anymore, whether this way or that—they were free. It was the ocean's message that they had their permission to leave.

Now that their task was complete, the esk couldn't feel resentful about doing the ocean's chores. They had seen... so much. More, really, than they saw at the lake in years. And throughout all these breathtaking sights, they had noticed one common thing—as powerful and vast as the seas were, they were held in a delicate balance that was so easy to disrupt. Wasn't it this esk's job, as a guardian of nature, to help fix things like that? They'd felt the humming of a foreign object in the reef, of some little fish in desperate need of help: those were the kinds of calls they could not ignore.

At long last, their head broke the surface and they scrambled gratefully into warm dry air, the sunset spilling scarlet over their coat as they shook themselves dry. The world here was unchanged: jagged shadowed cliffs painted in green foliage, stars beginning to peer through the sunset, the water rippling contemplatively. It was easy to believe that nothing had changed: the esk might have never entered the water at all.

It was intimidating, honestly, to think about having duties or responsibilities... Right now, the esk was happy enough to just live in the aftermath of their adventure. That glorious feeling of going home.

ARTWORK SCORING
Base Score: 10 AP (Shaded Illustration)
+5 AP (Full Body)
+10 AP (Simple/Vignette Background)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+20 AP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+5 AP (Palette Bonus: Palette IX.)
Total AP per submission: 55

Base Score: 4 GP (Shaded Illustration)
+2 GP (Full Body)
+4 GP (Simple/Vignette Background)
+10 GP (Event + Marine Biome Bonus)
+2 GP (Palette Bonus: Palette IX.)
Total GP per submission: 22

LITERATURE SCORING
Base Score: 18 AP (Writing: 916 words)
+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)
+8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)
+5 AP (Marine Biome Bonus)
Total AP per submission: 36

Base Score: 9 GP (Writing: 916 words)
+6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)
+2 GP (Marine Biome Bonus)
Total GP per submission: 17