Isle of Unknown Reunion (ZFP)

The sparkling turquoise water reflected the piercing rays of the sun into Nicoli’s eyes, causing him to cover his face with his battle worn hands.

“Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink,” he said with a slight grimace, wishing that he could change the physical properties of the, in his opinion, detestable liquid that stretched out endlessly into the ocean. He stood out on a rock, jutting out over the surface, scanning the horizon for a single trace of life.

“Three days... nothing...”

Nicoli paced back a short distance along the beach toward his makeshift campsite, “Fifty yards.” He found a small stone and marked a boulder near the waterline with a third dash.

A feeble flame flickered next to his rough shelter, a small hut of palm wood and a meager roof of palm leaves, barely able to keep him from saturation after the minuscule rainstorm the night before. His black cloak hung over the fire in an attempt to dry it out.

He walked over to the side of the hut, plucking his two-bladed Windmill out of the soggy sand. Twirling it rapidly around his body, finding the repetitive exercise relaxing, he recounted the ill-fated excursion which was to take him to his destination, now never to be. He had managed to rescue the skipper from the capsizing ship, but he was lost in the all encompassing darkness of the vicious storm four nights before.

Retuning to his self assigned chores, Nicoli extended the reach of the Windmill and hewed coconuts, falling with a thud off of the towering trees far above him. After he had harvested about a dozen, he resigned himself to chopping down palm trees to reinforce his flimsy shelter, fishing for whatever small aquatic life he could spy, and tending after the fire.

Taking his cloak from the flame, and finding it again to his liking, he hurriedly put it back on. It seemed to return a part of himself back into him, like a letter from home to a warring soldier.

With his newfound vigor, Nicoli donned all of his equipment for a stroll around the perimeter of the island. He quickly stuck the fish he had caught onto a sail powered rotisserie, spinning in the wind as it baked, and headed out to the east.

Nicoli walked past countless palm trees, swaying gracefully in the wind, with the perfect blue sky creating a uniform backdrop to the plethora of vegetation. Every once in a while, he heard the now familiar sounds of a tropical bird chirping or boar squealing. The scenery didn’t vary throughout the first half of his walk, chopping down an occasional tree to test its density.

He, surprisingly, found it quite boring in comparison to his camp, “By the looks of it, I may be the biggest thing to ever happen on this island,” he chuckled.

A faint sound coming from up ahead startled Nicoli, sounding like the bellowing of a horn in the relative silence. He scampered over to the forest and crouched down low, making his way slowly down the beach line. To his utmost surprise, the sound was now distinctly the steady crackle of a fire. With growing curiosity, and wariness, he held his Windmill at the ready and approached the sound to get a closer look.

OOC- Ahhh... time to stretch out those aching writing limbs!

Brather was already in the bushes near the fire when the strange guy entered her temporary camp site. He wore a black coat, which fell down a great distance. It seemed heavy, and she couldn't quite understand why he wore it on in the sun.

Why was Brather in the bushes? She was hoping to patch up her sail, which was ripped quite badly from the wind of last night's storm. Luckily, she had had a spair sail, but it would only last so long. She was patching the sail with a few large leaves she had found that were fairly thin. Also, her tunic had been badly soaked. Once the sail was patched and the tunic dry, she would have left. However, with the stranger wielding a two bladed weapon she had never seen before, she wasn't so sure.

Hmmmm... she had thought the island devoid of natives, but that was okay. Normal people couldn't bother her if she was angry enough...

The stranger looked at the tunic resting over her magical fire (she hadn't bothered to find wood to fead it), he suddenly started and looked around to stare at her canoe. He approached it slowly, but before he got the whole way there Brather figured she had to do something, or else she may end up with no means of transport. She wished she could see the stranger's face, as it was first unseeable because she was looking through the fire and now his back was turned.

"Come on..." she murmured, "You don't want to really be stuck here, do you?"

Raising her voice and standing up out of the bushes, Brather voiced the only thought in her head at the moment, "Nice boat, isn't it? I made it at my home island, though that isn't saying much."

Well, well, well, what do we have here? thought Nicoli, excitement and relief filling his mind, like jumping into a steamy hot spring after enduring frostbitten snow beneath bare feet. The scene that lay before him reeked of a most pleasing mental aroma, that of rustic civilization. The temporary campsite was built more sturdily than his, showing no signs of considerable damage. Looking more closely at the encampment, he saw a strange green fire burning with a perplexing intensity. There was seemingly nothing fueling this emerald hued flame, yet it kept burning at the same rate.

That’s intriguing... Either someone with a large supply of invisible copper has decided to burn his wares on this wretched island, or I’m dealing with someone who uses magic...

However, that was a mere outcropping of his main train of thought... the boat that protruded itself from the beach. The sight of it was like that of a blind man regaining his sight amidst an overwhelming palate of color. The sail seemed slightly damaged, but it did not diminish Nicoli’s joy at escape.

Just as he raised up and walked out of the bushes to inspect the craft more closely, he stopped in his tracks, realizing the situation he was setting himself into, This site was obviously erected by an intelligent being who knows how to wield magic. It would be logical to think that they would protect their sole means of escape off of this blasted heap of sand with their abilities... he thought as he took another look at the ever-burning fire.

I suppose that it would be best for me to stay here, wait for whoever this is to approach, introduce myself plainly, and then size up what I have to do next... Either convince them to carry me to the nearest port, or commandeer the vessel if they prove to be hostile...

"Nice boat, isn't it? I made it at my home island, though that isn't saying much." said a disembodied alto tone behind him.

Nicoli immediately turned ’round and focused intently on the being that uttered those words, but remained as peaceful as possible while still holding his windmill in his right gauntlet. The figure before him halted his gaze in a way very few before had done. She wasn’t very remarkable. The only thing on first glance that would set her apart would be her carved staff. Yet, it seemed like an unseen force emanated from her, like watching a fierce bear in repose.
As soon as Nicoli observed this, a rush of familiarity hit him like a towering wave.

Still reeling from the blow to his psyche, he asked, “Do I know you?”

The girl backed up, slightly contorting her face, “What?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I feel like I’ve seen you before,” he said, scratching his stubbly chin, “as if it was from a dream...”

OoC: right, time to move forward!

BiC:

Brather was rather startled by the stranger's question. Partly, it was because she had never been asked that by someone upon first meeting (nobody really forgot someone like Brather... she heard she left a large impact on people's impressions). The rest was because she had the same feeling about the stranger.

Unfortunately, Brather's darker humor barged in at that moment. "No, I don't believe you do," she replied in a tone that hinted that she wasn't one to dwell on the subject for very long. In fact, she had said it a bit more icily than she had expected.

The stranger stopped scratching his head and let his hand drop to his side. Now that she had a clear view of him, Brather couldn't help but be impressed by the weapon. Two-bladed, slender, and held with the appearance of a thing used quite often by the stranger, she had never before seen a weapon that matched the make of it. The blades refelcted the light of her magic fire, and she couldn'y help but feel a certain affection for the item. It held all the power one could want, as long as one could weild it.

Had Brather paid any attention to the stranger, she might have actually thought of him as handsome. His hair was a strange assortment of black and gray, giving him the appearance of youth while at the same time showing the hairs one aquires after years of learning and wisdom. His eyes were a dark brown, holding the look of one who had practiced every movement hundreds of years beforehand and knew what the best course of action would be in any situation. He moved carefully, as if with practiced grace stalking an animal. A short sword hung at his waist, not near as intimidating as the other weapon.

Brather absorbed all of this fairly quickly, still trying to determine if the stranger was foe or friend.

However, she felt something deep within her stir. It was something savage, an old call that seemed to allow her to take risks beyond measure. A call telling her to do what she could to prove she was the best, to seek out an opponent and to fight them. It was a call she had felt numerous times, though never in the ferocity she felt now. It was as if her very blood beat with anger untempered by age or battles, an anger never-ending and filled with the rage she had first felt when learning how to control her powers.

It could have been interpreted many ways, but to Brather it meant only one thing: I must fight this stranger!

Her body tensed, but Brather had one or two questions for the stranger.

"What is your name, stranger?"

He seemed only slightly startled by her question, and he answered quite quickly, "I am Nicoli Carak. And your name?"

"I... I am Brather Tawn," she answered slowly, biting back her anger long enough for one more question. "From what I can see, you are in need of a boat. Are you willing to battle for a ride to the next island?"

This time, the question seemed to not alarm Nicoli at all.

He took a long, deep breath, and then looked back at Brather with eyes that seemed to have anticiated the question the moment he had seen her camp site.

...