#pyroclast3

Nothing brought a sigh of relief like the dock to mainland.  Sea breezes twined through the trees on the hills, their dark foliage showing the first changes to autumn purple.  The sun dipping into the cold ocean, shot long shadows over the crumbling slopes.  Lapping waves shattered against the shoreline and pulled at the abandoned structures.  Years before, the cataclysmic tsunami had cracked these stone beaches, but new docks were built, new torii erected, and just as always the greenest adventurers gathered, waiting for that iconic royal blue frigate to ferry them to greater things. Four of us waited today, and the beauty made it worth the wait. We each politely ignored one another.  At our stage of the game, it took only a glace to realize the fair quality of the young priest behind me, and that the restless hunter at the edge of the pier enjoyed money given his shining heirlooms, and the elf hanging back awkwardly in the most basic of garb, holding only a wrapped bo staff was a... well the politically correct term would be "novice." The hunter fidgeted, as if the faster he tapped, the sooner the boat would arrive.  The priest stood motionless, likely working out a suitable organization to her skillset behind those calculating eyes.  I myself lounged in the moment of peace.  But for one among us, the world felt fresh and untarnished.  That elf was exuberant. I.e. talkative, "I really like those mounts in the city."  He meant the elvish capitol up the hill. No response.  I don't think the priest even blinked. "If I give u gold would u buy me a mount?" I looked back at the elf druid in disbelief.  How old was this guy?  I right clicked on his name to explain the sabertooth tigers to him.  It's not like buying booze for your little brother; if you can't buy the mount yourself, it's because you can't ride it. But, for some reason I hesitated.  Much like opening my mouth just to close it again, I backed out of the whisper window without saying anything.  I like to think of myself as the kind of person who corrects a neophyte before a troll makes off with their gold, but there something hungry lingered about this kid's excitement.  Like he was ready to suction onto the first person to acknowledge his existence and beg, 'show me your ways!'  Besides, maybe one of the other two had whispered him in the time it took me to second-guess.  The hunter clearly needed something to do. "If I give u gold would u buy me a mount?" he repeated like a macro.  But now, the silence had become commitment.  I'd chosen not to engage. The passing moments chewed at my nerves like mice.  Something felt off...  Something had changed...  Something seemed annoyingly quiet... ...The hunter had stopped fidgeting. From the edge of the dock, he turned, unfurled a red flag, and like throwing down the gauntlet, speared the challenge banner between him and the young elf. Here?  On a pier?  There was no room to spar, especially for the overly armored hunter who had nothing but ocean to his back.  Did he really think his expensive bow would save him once that druid pinned him beneath panther claws?  But something in the hunter's grin made me feel I was missing a very conniving strategy. The flag flapped wildly in the harsh ocean breeze, and I watched the hesitation in the druid's eyes.  I could read what went through his mind as easily as remembering the first time someone sunk that flag at my feet: What's this?  A spar to pass some lazy time?  Oh why not?  Lets see what it's like. I drew a breath, but I didn't shout, 'Don't!' In one fluid motion the elf fell to all fours, bones shifting, fur spreading over his skin.  With sharp teeth, and deadly claws, the druid panther leapt.  The hunter stood poised, bolt drawn, heel to the edge of the dock.  But the arrow was not tipped.  It was weighted. The royal frigate approached. With a crack of the bow, the blunt weight struck the druid smack between the eyes.  The concussive blow felled the cat to the wooden dock with a resounding clunk.  Stunned, the druid shook the disorientation from his head. The ship, sailed by the magic of one's and zero's, wouldn't really port in the usual sense, but only granted a few moments for adventurers to jump on and go.  Having missed far too many ships in my time, I leapt onto the deck given my first chance.  The priest ran on.  The hunter only had to step back. That's when the real onslaught began. The elf placed a dark paw beneath himself; the hunter stuck it with a weighted arrow.  The elf struggled to his feet; the hunter knocked him down again.  As the frigate pulled away from the dock, I watched that druid fight his way through the battering arrows, running for a desperate leap to the deck of the ship.  The ship pulled away, and he skid to a stop before plunging into the ocean. The hunter spat out laughter.  The priest just stood motionless again.  And the elf watched us go with large, feline eyes. And I felt that accidental decision of silence like a hot iron rod in my spine.   "Oh fuck this shit!"  I managed to snap the priest's attention into eye-contact and I shot a pointing finger at the hunter.  "Report him for griefing!" In the moment before the frigate zoned into intercontinental waters, I ran for the ledge.  One foot on the lip of the deck launched me from the edge of the ship into a swan dive. The plunge into roaring, frigid saltiness shocked the air from my lungs.  I tumbled in the ship's wake until the arch of my back regained my control  in the tide and waves.  Breast-stroking to shore, I finally pulled myself onto the slick rocks, my sinuses stinging with salt, the ocean bogging down my armor, and my lungs smarting with the effort.  I clambered up the boulders to the pier. "Hey."  I stood there.  Dripping. The elf sat on his haunches at the end of the dock staring after the ship now long gone.  He turned his big, glistening eyes my way and sniffled at me. Panther fur receded, his thighs lengthened, and his paws formed hands.  The elf stood to face me.  Dark welts already swelled all over his body.  Wiping blood from his nose, he looked up at me.  I stared into pained eyes, unable to miss the fresh blood around the iris. "I just watned to get the hell away for a while u know?" I knew. In fact, I suspected no one crossed these docks for any other reason.  No one happy with their life wasted it for the alliance. I just stared sympathetically back at him as he spit blood into the sea. "When you're 20, you'll be prompted to get a riding license.  Then you can buy that mount." He looked at me sideways, still cupping his hand to his bleeding nose. Crossing my arms against the chill wind, I walked abreast with him.  "Life sucks.  I know."  I sighed, "And sometimes you just want to be somewhere life isn't.  And this place ...is just another shade of hell." The elf glanced up at me, and I met his gaze.  "But it's not usually this bitter of a shade." He sucked at his bleeding lip and stared into the ocean. I looked off into the low sun.  "Brb.  Stay here."  I disappeared from the dock just long enough to exit, swap, and load. Like a myth of homeliness melting into a goddess, my cheap leather armor flurried into skillfully embroidered robes.  Runes rippled with magic across my crimson armor as I stepped back to the dock.  I walked to him with the kind of symmetry, and magnificence which could only be earned in long hours of expertise.  My black gloves, adorned with fractals, undulated like flames with the magic ricocheting between my palms.  The power grew greater and bluer.  At last the spell cast and I reached out to place the portal through space-time in the middle of the dock. "Click it," I told him.  "Same place the ship goes.  You'll just find yourself in a tower rather than the port." The sadness in his brown eyes ebbed in the tear-blue glow of the portal.  That look of gratitude could conquer a lifetime of loneliness. He reached through the portal, and--at least I hope--got the hell away for a while.