The Vagrant's Chronicle: Raging Waves

In the endlessly echoing sea-song, the shipmaster fought his fated foe to the last.

—Raging Billows—

"Come with me into the storm's abyss; hear the dark sea's low song.

"When current and wind stand right, sail gently toward the great whirlpool.

"I hear my old master's mutter, blessing her descendants:

"Let them safely cross the dance of fierce wind and swirling current,

"and let the sea beasts' lair tremble before the heroes' harpoons."

In the storm that overturned sea and sky, the everlasting ship-song was never drowned out. The girl's voice kept time with the crashing waves, guiding the shipmaster past deadly undercurrents straight toward the place where sea beasts thrashed in the storm.

Through rolling whirlpools, weaving between thunderbolts and columns of wind, the great ship burst into the giant's rampaging waters. In lightning that lit the sky, the shipmaster raised his greatsword without fear.

Following his gaze, the crew at last noticed: the shadow in the dark clouds still unlit by lightning was a vast body linking far mountains. Beside that mountain-like terror at the whirlpool's heart, the beast-bones on the ship seemed like a cub's.

As if to vent every mortal fear and fantasy upon that curtain-wall of a demon form, at the shipmaster's command the giant crossbows along the side fired one after another; rock shot and barbed black-iron harpoons left terrible wounds on the sea beast's body.

The evil beast of the sea howled in agony, heaving up scarlet great waves that slammed the warship's hull. The great ship nearly overturned under the impact; the deck was hard to walk for the surging red tide. Sailors, soaked in the foul flood, cursed the many gods who rule all elements and shot rock and sharp spears at the giant in vain.

The cold shipmaster never feared the foe fate had delivered; the girl at the prow answered the beast's roar with song. The great ship circled the giant along the chaotic currents; enduring the shock of fangs and venomous claws, it vented terror and fury with ballistae, harpoons, stone-shot—even mortal flesh and blood.

When the sea beast's huge body was covered in wounds, its tentacles and claws broken and spent upon the surface, the shipmaster's great ship too was exhausted—half its masts snapped, half its ballistae shattered, half its crew the beast's supper, even the greatsword he prided himself on broken in two. It was a challenge doomed to fail, like a child challenging a giant.

The gravely wounded sea beast knew its foe no longer threatened it, so it rose to the surface, opened its fang-lined vast maw, and meant to swallow the helpless great ship in one gulp.