The ocean is only sometimes a calm pce. The neutral state of being near-weightless makes it feel comforting and safe, but the reality is anything but. What betrays that is the vibrations and the currents. The tter reveals just how chaotic the sea really is via brute strength, and the former brings to the fore the struggle of life beneath the surface. I am exempt of the majority of that struggle. I am a noble of the colony of Turik, and I command the military of our great city, who hold back the cephalopods with their mighty cws. Those twelve-armed freaks try to invade our coral reefs once again, and they have met a strong defense. Our bodies are suited to fortification, with our strong carapaces, six pointed legs, powerful cws, and rger size. If we have one fw, it is the fleshy torso protruding from our fronts, above our mouths, where on normal crustaceans there would be eye stalks. This torso on top of our bodies is the only feature our people and our enemies share. It is admittedly disturbing to have to look in such familiar eyes as you sy them, but it cannot be helped. We solve that weakness with armour of powerful make, from scales of sea serpents. We engage those serpentine monsters on equal footing and purchase their scales for what others would call a bargain, due to the violent methods of procurement they employ. On the other cw, our enemies are made up of naught but flesh. Even their lower half is covered in slimy skin, unlike our powerful forms. They dash and dart, stinging like cowards and swimming away. Even if we do manage to catch them, they will either cut off the limb we have grasped, or spurt out a cloud of inky bck to confuddle their captors. How I hate those waver-willed foolfish. As I gaze out upon the field of battle, standing atop a protruding coral tube, my aide comes to my side. "General Uktik, the battle lines have been prepared, and our soldiers await your command to do war." It seems like every other tidal cycle there is some new issue added to my desk, this most recent surge in skirmishes being just the newest one. This invasion had been forecast some time ago, but I did not expect to be the one in charge of leading it. I thought Rukutil would. Of course, that idiot had to die and leave me with all the responsibilities. "Yes, yes. Instruct the battalions to move in accordance with situation three." That should counteract the pcement of the enemy as informed by our spy. My aide scuttles away to inform the convocation of commanders of the pns. The coral forest of Turik is a rather beautiful one, in a way that many reefs I have seen are not. It is consistently made up of colors that compliment each other, such as red, orange, and violet. The fans, the towers, the spirals, the variety of shapes is astounding. I could never get enough of this view. My homend's reef was not nearly as idyllic as this one, but it was definitely more peaceful. I sigh deeply through the gills on the side of my ribs, wondering whether i still want to do this. Not that I can stop. I speak through the mouth on top of my body, but breathe through the gills on the side of that torso as well as some on the front of my main body. I find it rather strange how we have two sets of gills, almost as if we were designed with redundancy in mind. Another reason we are superior to our opponents. My ponderings on anatomy are interrupted by my aide scrambling up my coral tube in a rather frantic manner. I turn to see what the issue was, but the moment I did, I realized what was happening. "General, the soft-skins are attacking from the rear! We're being fnked!" What. Beyond the injured aide there was a battle going on. Having been positioned at the back of our forces, we in the tactical command only were allotted a small guard. That is now coming back back to bite us. That bastard spy was a double agent! How dare he? After all we have given him, after all we promised him, after all the threats we had against him, the leech decides to leak our communications to the enemy? I am going to kill him personally. As opposed to the armour that covers our upper torso, the armour that compliments the natural armour of our lower halves is made of a kind of bone that becomes pliable under the heat from cracks in the sea floor. This armour sticks out far above my legs, and curves outward with spikes like that of a king crab, but longer, like an urchin. The armour is made to prevent attacks from any angle while still being mobile and dangerous. Dangerous is what I aim to become. I barrel down the branch of coral I rest on, kicking my aide off of it in the process so they may remain away from the battle... But while I am thrusting myself forward, my legs do not have the grip needed to keep myself attached to the ground, leading to me leaping more than scuttling. A strong current, the most powerful that I have ever felt, yanks me upward and backward. The st thing I can see before I am sucked in to the vortex behind me is a few of those cephalopods staring in confusion. So it wasn't them. My legs fil, reaching for some grip, but I can't find any. I fly through the portal, and out of the sea. I hit the ground, but instead of bouncing off or even hitting the ground, the strangely hard ground, I bend. My body loses it's shape, and I spsh like water to the floor. I wash over people and things that have no water alike. My body soaks in. I am the water, I am the wake. Aethernal

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