TRS Golden Chert

Before the Guines Edict's ratification by Tiveley in 382, Tiveley was building a fleet for trade and the war with Berkham that was on the horizon.   While shipbuilding was known, it wasn't a priority for any of the nations on Murriet. Storms around the continent could be sizable, and there was plenty to occupy their time on the land itself, so priorities generally ended up elsewhere. This left the naval power of all four nations as minimal, mostly fishing boats used. With the relative safety of the Bay of Mecko and prosperity that the advent of magic brought, Tiveley worked toward building an actual navy. After many years of work and taxes, a worthy fleet was built and outfitted.   Around the year 300, for its maiden voyage, the Tivelean fleet was loaded with tradegoods and departed Fullent, capital of Tiveley. The fleet was never seen again.   Over a year later, a few sailors from the fleet started to reappear in Fullent, after being written off as casualties months earlier. Hundreds of sailors had departed in the fleet, but of those, only 5 returned.   All of these sailors had been crew of the TRS Golden Chert, one of the smaller ships in the fleet. As each sailor returned, they were questioned, and each of their stories was roughly the same:   The voyage began calmly, with the trip going better than expected. They were taking the voyage slowly so they could work out any problems, but none came up. Until just after dark on their third day.   A long tendril snaked out of the water, and grasped the flagship, shattering the masts and sinking the ship. Quicker than anyone could respond, the ship was sinking beneath the ocean with the screams of the crew quickly being drowned out, cut off with a snapping noise. In the dim light, the crew of the Chert could barely make out a head bigger than they could imagine chewing its way through the debris.   The fleet started to panic, turning toward the nearest land, but the process repeated itself. Of the entire fleet, only three ships pulled into a small bay of a small island. The water was shallow, only the smallest ships able to squeeze into the space.   They lived there a month, afraid to venture back into deeper water, but eventually without sight of either the sea monster itself or any other survivors, the TRS Flying Fancy's crew decided to make a break for the mainland. Fleeing south, they were sure they could make it to land and from there make their way back home on foot.   Their attempt fared poorly.   The remaining two ships stayed on the island for another two months. But with winter threatening soon and their small island unlikely to protect and feed them well enough to see them through, they knew they had to attempt the crossing too.   They boarded their ships early in the morning before the sun came up and pushed off with the first rays of the morning's sun. The Chert kept to the shallowest water it could, while the TRS Blue River tried to speed the shortest path it could.   The River was attacked first, downed in less than the blink of an eye. The Chert made it further. Much further. The monster was distracted by the sailors in the water or groggy in the early morning, but the Chert was within sight of land before the sailors felt a trembling and were thrown into the air.   Each of the sailors that survived managed to pull themselves onto pieces of wreckage, getting entirely out of the water. Anyone that was in the water was quickly eaten. Larger pieces of wreckage were destroyed, broken to splinters. After the larger pieces, smaller pieces were destroyed. Each of the surviving men was on one of the smallest pieces they found, and each of them was certain that their refuge was next to be destroyed.   With the chaos, each of the men had been certain they were the only one remaining. They saw no other survivors, but also spent little time looking, trying to get as far away from the ocean as they could. They each made their way back east, eventually returning to civilization and eventually to Fullent.   Their stories are the first known record of the mythical Tyranha.


Pushed by wind via sails
Owning Organization


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