Chapter Text
In the murky depths of the Cloud Sea, one's vision is all but obscured, hardly helped by the scuffed visor of a salvaging suit. Despite this, it is a salvager's job to navigate, and locate treasures from long passed civilizations. Being a salvager is not a task for the faint of heart, the shadowy uncertainty found in the Cloud Sea’s depths could drive a man mad.
Call me insane, reckless, an idiot, or whatever colorful term you could come up with, but I have grown up surrounded by these clouds, and I find solace in them, almost making it seem like I was born for this job. On my home titans, the Leftherian Archipelago, we made our livelihoods in the cloud sea. We fished, swam, cliff jumped, whatever you could imagine. By the time I was old enough to understand the concept of money, I knew that the best way I could help my family could be found in the depths of these clouds.
Today though, I am just trying to make enough cash to keep food on the table, or whatever passes as one on Gramp’s back.
As I descend through the clouds, I notice the skeletal frame of a fallen titan. On the edge of one of its bones, I notice my target: A metal crate, made of tarnished, black metal, about a head shorter than I am tall.
I launch my small, wrist mounted anchor, and it imbeds itself in the bone of the titan. It pulls me forward, and I land on the bone, just in front of the crate, and I place an air balloon on the top of it. As the balloon begins to inflate, the box begins to rise. Before it floats out of reach, I cling on, riding its ascent to the surface.
Near the surface, I find the hook and platform tied to Gramp’s crane. As the crate continues to rise with the balloon, I attach the crane to the hook in the surface of the balloon, and swim to the platform above. I turn off the headlamp on my helmet, and press the button on the platform, causing it to pull both me, and my treasure, to the surface.
The crane pulls me up just next to the small, grassy piece of land I call home, and swivels 180 degrees, leaving me able to jump from the platform, and safely onto land.
I sigh. “We really need to buy ourselves a new depth probe. The ping was off by 150 peds to the east, that ain’t gonna fly!” I say while removing my helmet, and what remains of my salvaging suit.
An older, wisened voice speaks from behind me, “And what about the treasure, Rex? Is it in line with your expectations, at least?”
I pick up a crowbar, and approach the box, speaking as I walk, “It seemed pretty solid, I didn’t even need to reinforce it much. Even with the labor costs, we should be able to turn a tidy profit.
The front of the island begins to shift, a protrusion lifting upwards. As the protrusion reaches its zenith, the giant, draconic head of a titan on its end shifts to face me.
Gramps’ head has a rocky appearance, with blue dorsal fins along the side, though his most prominent features lie in the long, lancelike horn on his forehead, and the protrusion on what us humans would call a chin, resembling a goatee. Along the back of his neck, grass grows, flowing down to his tail, near where I am standing and where the crane is mounted.
Gramps says, “Honestly, it takes you two days to run the structural analysis, and yet you can judge the profits in an instant?”
I chuckle, “Don’t go raining on my parade, Gramps! You know I am in the salvaging trade for the cash!”
I take a step forward, and slam the edge of the crowbar into the side panel of the crate, and begin to pull with all of my might.
“A little business sense goes a long wa-”
As the frame of the box begins to give way, a large force from inside of the crate launches outward, knocking me back.
Gramps screams in his harsh, raspy voice “Rex!!”
“I’m alright, alright, Gramps? I’ve got this” I say, regaining my footing. “I didn’t expect THAT! You been living in this thing, big guy?”
I identify the creature I am facing as a King Crustip, a large, lobster-like monster that lives in this part of the Cloud Sea.
I run backwards, not leaving my back open to the danger in front of me, into the small hut I call a house, and grab my weapon, a trusty, foldable blade that can extend outward. Portable, and not too sharp, but it gets the job done.
I exit the hut, and approach the crustacean. “Don’t worry, Gramps, you’ve trained me well enough to handle small fry like this. I guess we’ve found our lunch!”