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“I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue And it's hey to the starboard, heave ho. Look out, lad, a triton be waitin' for you in mysterious fathoms below.” A sea shanty is sung from a replaced and repaired pirate ship.
A young man, in his twenties, is standing on the main deck, leaning on the rail. The wind blows through his brown hair, getting it out of his face. “Isn't this great? The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face... a perfect day to be at sea!” The young man, Chip, exclaimed, looking over to his courtier.
His courtier, however, wasn’t having such a great time. He is leaning over the railing, visibly sick. “Oh yes… delightful.” He sarcastically grumbles.
A water genasi walks by. “A fine, strong wind and a following sea. The Elders must be in a friendly type mood.”
“The Elders?” Chip questions.
“Why, ruler of the tritons, lad. Thought every good sailor knew about them.” “Tritons! Chip, pay no attention to this nautical nonsense.” His courtier, Earl, complains.
The Genasi didn’t take lightly to this. Picking up a fish from the top of a nearby barrel and waving it in Earl’s face. “But it ain’t nonsense; it’s the truth! I’m tellin’ you, down in the depths o’ the ocean, they live. The Trench it’s called!”
This exclamation caught the attention of multiple sailors, who burst into another shanty at what they overheard. “Heave. Ho, Heave. Ho. In mysterious fathoms below.” As the sailors begin to sing, the noise travels across the ocean surface and under it. Down lower and lower, it gets darker and darker. Where a shanty turns to fanfare.
A large seahorse swims out. The seahorse coughs, “Your Royal Highnesses. The Elders!” In a brightly lit room, a group of four tritons is pulled into the room on a seashell chariot by five dolphins. “And presenting your chosen one." Another fanfare plays, “Gillion Tidestrider!”
Another, smaller, seashell chariot is pulled in with a giant clam shell covering the top. A spot light appears over the chariot. The seahorse swims over to it and, with a little struggle, pulls the shell up to reveal… nothing. A gasp erupts in the room. One elder stands up and, in a rage, yells. “Gillion!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A high-pitched trill is sounded from behind a small, sunken ship.
“Pretzel, hurry up!” A boisterous voice exclaims.
Another trill is heard as a pink frogtapus starts swimming towards a muscular blue-green triton.
“All right, I’m going inside. You can just stay here and watch for sharks.” The triton swims through the porthole of a large, sunken ship.
A satisfied chirp sounds from the frogtapus, Pretzel. A beat passes before she gives a worried trill and swims through the porthole. The triton swims over while Pretzel is still trolling worriedly.
“Oh, Pretzel.” He chuckled.
She chirps silently, still worried.
"Pretzel, don’t be such a tadpole.” A shadow cascades over him for a second.
The frogtapus gives an upset trill, then her trills turn almost desperate as she follows the triton deeper into the ship.
“Oh my Gods! Oh my Gods!” He swims over to a heap of junk on the floor and picks something up. He turns to Pretzel, holding a silver fork. “Have you seen anything so wonderful in your entire life?”
A curious chirp.
“I don’t know. But I bet Apple will know.” He puts the fork in a small cross-body bag. As another shadow passes over him.
Seeming to have noticed the shadow, Pretzel gives a worried trill. However, the triton seemed to have already moved on.
He picks up a pipe and mutters, “Hmm, I wonder what this one is?”
Pretzel clings to her best friend’s arm and gives another worried trill
"Pretzel, will you relax? Nothing is going to happen.” And almost like he summoned it, a shark appears in front of the window, behind Pretzel, as it chimps down on the glass.
Pretzel gives a startled trill as they all start swimming. The shark banged its head on the ceiling of the ship. The triton and frogtapus swim towards an upper deck. However, they are not safe, as the shark breaks through the floor.
As he was swimming away, the triton’s bag gets caught on a broken plank. Despite the risk, he goes to retrieve it. With a little struggle, he gets the bag and swims back towards a porthole that Pretzel has all ready swam through.
Pretzel trills as the shark breaks through the wall and tries to chase them around the ship. Pretzel swims into a crossbeam. The shark lunges towards her but misses, as Pretzel has already crawled toward the bottom. The triton spots her, goes to grab her, and drops his bag again. The shark races towards them but gets stuck in the ring of an anchor. The triton swims around to retrieve his bag.
Pretzel chirps angrily at the shark, who tries to get closer to her but fails.
The triton and frogtapus start to swim to the surface. "Pretzel, you really are a tadpole.
Pretzel chirps defensively. They break through the surface by a very tiny island where a little blue bird is singing to itself. The triton is still keeping his gills in the water.
“Apple!” A boisterous voice calls.
The bird looks over and spots the triton’s head sticking out of the water. “Whoa! Triton off the port bow! Gillion, how you doin', kid?”
“Apple, look what we found.” The triton, Gillion, hands his bag to Apple.
By the tritons side, Pretzel was trilling, telling Apple what happened.
“Human stuff, huh? Hey, lemme see!” Apple rummages through the bag and pulls out the fork. “Oh! Oh! Look at this. Wow, this is special; this is very, very unusual.”
“What? What is it?”
“It’s a dingle hopper! Humans use these little babies... to straighten their hair out.” Apple twirls the fork around her feathers. “See, just a twirl here an’ a yank there, and - voiolay!” Her feathers go up in a poof. “You got an aesthetically pleasing configuration of hair that humans go nuts over.”
Apple hands the fork back to Gillion. “A dingle hopper!” He whispers in amazement.
Pretzel struggles to hold up a pipe and chirps curiously.
Apple pries the pipe from Pretzel’s tentacles. “Ah, this I haven’t seen in years. This is wonderful! A banded, bulbous-snarf blat.” Gillion and Pretzel look at each other, astonished. “Now, the snarf blat dates back to pre-historical times, when humans used to sit around and stare at each other all day. It got very boring. So, they invented the snarf blat to make fine music. Allow me.” She blows into the pipe, and seaweed pops out the other end. “It’s stuck!”
“Boring…” Gillion ponders before his face morfs into one of horror. “Oh, the celebration! Oh my Gods, the Elders are going to kill me!”
Pretzel trills worriedly at her friend.
Still stuck on the pipe. Apple says, “Maybe you could make a little planter out of it or something.”
Gillion snatched the pipe back. “Uh, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go. Thank you, Apple.” He waved and starts swimming down into the depths with Pretzel following behind. “Anytime buddy, anytime.” She waves and flys away.