The smell of salt on the cool morning air is the first thing Aquilan can make sense of. The chatter of seagulls and faint ache of muscle pains from the extended stay in the sea crept its way into his dulled mind. Suddenly, all feelings would return as a wave of cool water would come crashing down upon him. The water was chilled, filling his clothing once more as his red and black hair floated in the wave’s pause. His mouth felt dry, and much like this wave that woke him up, his memories flooded his mind as the cool water flowed back to the ocean. His time in the academy, his time in the dungeon, his travels and studies as well as what he surely thought was his death. He was now fully awake as he lay on his back in the clothing he was wearing during his voyage. His sword was strangely rested upon his breast, as though someone had placed it there to keep it from being buried beneath the sand. It was very hard to do more than blink, and even then his eyes still burned. The sun would rise quickly before his mind would return from his memories. A shadow passed over the sun, a shadow far thicker than any seagull. A heavy sliding noise was followed by the sound of wood hitting wood. A small boat had ran ashore as the tide left the beach.
Zarriia awoke to the sound of seagulls and crashing waves. The storm was not a dream, she had infact been aboard a ship lost to the sea. Thankfully, she was capable of stealing one of the small dinghies tied to the side of the massive cargo ship. She had a 31 gallon barrel of water and a covered crate of rations that were more than enough to last her for two weeks. The sail was in tatters as her eyes came into focus. Her mind begged her to close her eyes again, to let sleep take her back beneath its fold. Sadly, the impact of hitting the beach wished otherwise. The drow was jostled from her bench, saved from falling in the small amount of water within the boat by the barrel. Her mouth felt like a desert, her tongue like a piece of cotton. The salty air had done a number on her. She was now fully awake despite her body's protest. Her boat was in still water behind a large sandbar. It slowly started to lean as the water drained out of the large basin.
Zarriia could see inland on the beach. There was a large low profile ship that looked to have been beached years ago. The metal decking and rust as well as the lack of any mast or sails hinted at a dwarven design. Further off in the distance stood an imposing cliff that was easily over six hundred feet tall. As the sun rose behind her, its light would catch a shimmer on the beach before her. There appeared to be an elven man laying on his back slightly off to the right of her little craft. His lips were blistered from what she could see, hinting that he had been at sea without the luxury of hiding himself from the sun. He appeared to be awake, however he did not look to be in good health. His pointed ears were jutting out from beneath his long black hair. Zarriia might have mistaken him for a Nillian if it were not for his elven ears and the light red streaks that patterned his hair.

Rats. Rats with wings to laugh at the rats on the sea. It made a almost poetic and sadistic sense to a unknown god beyond the far dark reaches of the abyss. Jostled by the joke of a boat she gripped the barrel and crate cursing in the Drowish tongue. Zarriia swore again upon seeing the massive cliff side that was more a wall for a prison. She had seen prison walls and this had death and despair written all over it. Checking her weapons to be assured of their being in place and of her own safety. It was more than comforting to feel the familiar weight of armor and weapons against her darkened skin. Her pale hair didn't show the crystals of salt that was most assuredly there. Opening the barrel of water enough to drink a good few gulps of the water, satisfying her thirst. It was so very needed, the water spreading relief against her parched throat. Closing the lid back and making it tight against the oncoming mist of salt water. Her eyes stung as she spat on her hands rubbing the salt from them and her eyes.

The splash of her boots hitting the water seemed overly loud to her ears, and most likely the elf heard. But that was not her concern as of now. He was merely a elf, she was drow. Survival was her priority and she had the supplies and thus the power in the arrange of things. Water, food, and weapons as far as she knew was hers to hold and he was on the short end of the stick. Hauling the small dinghie onto the shore of the beach. Better to have it grounded than to let her rations and water sink and be spoiled. As she worked on securing her boat, she kept a sharp eye and ear for any danger. Especially that of the cliff and elf. Two dangers and unknown elements. If she was smart she would take a dagger and subdue the elf. But she wasn't like the other Drow, to cause him harm would do her no good. Not as of yet. So she would spare him, for the moment. Her first job was survival, then the rest would fall into place as it always had.

Quil opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the brightness of the sun. He was on his back, his armor and the tunic he wore underneath wet from the sea. He felt cold and exhausted and felt the urge to just close his eyes again. I'm supposed to be dead, after all. He thought tiredly. Just then, a wave rolled in and drenched him with cold sea water and jolted his mind fully awake.

Memories from the night before came flooding back.

He was on a ship with unmarked sails and a hired crew the night before. Two male elves wearing uniforms from Elswin Academy of Magic were on board too. The two elves were his escorts in the mission given to him by Thalandil. They were to explore Crator Island and bring back anything valuable or worth studying.

"I am sure you will be successful in this endeavor, Aquilan. And I have hopes that you would be able to bring back something worthy of the Academy." Thalandil had said when he presented Quil with the dragon scale armor.

Thalandil's words were artificial in Quil's ears. The mission was a one way ticket. No one ever came back from Crator Island. No, this wasn't a mission. It was an exile.

As he tried to accept his fate, one of the hired crew, a human, came over to talk to him. It was a long talk about the church and how it could help him with whatever concern or trouble he might have. Maybe it was that lost look Quil had that brought the man to talk to him. Whatever it was, it gave him a little insight and a little hope on how he could separate himself from the phoenix soul that resides in him.

If he could make it back alive, that is.

The thought lingered in his head until the ship hit turbulent sea waters and the crew began muttering about how Crator Island was responsible for the sudden change. Before he could do anything to assist the crew, the two Elswin elves hoisted him up over the edge and dropped him into the roiling water.

As the waves crashed violently over Quil and pulled him underneath into the darkness, all he could do was close his eyes and surrender to it. A certain death.

But now, here he was, lying under the sun's unforgiving rays, half dead but still very much alive.

He rolled to his side, the sword that had been lying in his chest rattled in its scabbard as it fell onto the wet sand beside him. Quil coughed, his throat sore and his lips cracked from being exposed to both sea and sun for who knows how long. He tried to swallow but found that his mouth was parchment dry.

Where am I?

Your death would have served a greater purpose than you ending up in this island. came an elegant female voice in Quil's head. A voice he knew very well.

"You've always wanted me dead, Lady." Quil croaked out, his throat scratchy from dehydration. No matter how many centuries they spent together, the phoenix never spoke her name and so he settled to calling her 'Lady.' "I apologize for disappointing you." He muttered.

A splashing sound to his left made Quil sit up, his hand automatically grabbing the sword in its scabbard by his side, now partially buried in the wet sand. A sudden burst of adrenalin brought him up to his feet. A female drow was standing on the beach, securing her small boat.

His first instinct was self preservation. He looked around. A wide expanse of sand and sea, a beached ship and an impossibly tall cliff. And then, a drow. Everything spelled danger. His heart accelerated its pace, pumping phoenix fire into his veins. It warmed him but at the same time burned out the adrenalin from his system. He swayed on his feet and staggered forward. The small waves lapping against his boots began to sizzle and boil.

The air was slightly chilled as the two figures on the beach would notice each other. Be it from an unseen breeze, or the rush of adrenaline accompanied with spotting a stranger on the shores of a cursed island that was now their prison. Zarriia would quickly pick up on the movement caused by this elf as Quil got to his feet. The drow could see and hear the water as it evaporated from Quil's boots and clothing. There was no doubt about this man having an magical affinity.

Aquilan would see that this drow did not seem to concern herself with him, rather her small boat which appeared to have supplies aboard. He would witness her drink from a barrel, the sight of fresh water reminding him of just how thirsty he was. Aquilan would also note that this drow had a bow and several small daggers about her veiled appearance. From the quality, she was either a nobleman's daughter or a proficient killer. Given her drowish culture, she may very well be both. Either way, her back was presented at the distance of 30 yards for the short while she pulled the boat into the sand.

Sweeping the long braid that was reminiscent of pale moonlight over one shoulder. The pins having fallen out during the scramble for the small boat that had saved her wretched life. Her boat secure and thirst sated, she turned to face the elf with a ease and relaxation that belonged in a local tavern or home. Not on a beach littered with debris, and especially not with soar cliff walls that promised a demise Zarriia did not care to think about. Loosening her sword, she felt comfort from the steel that wrapped about her. Her golden eyes narrowed in thought. While magic was useful and certainly a danger. It also could become a crutch. She had seen it among her sisters, among the Priestess of Lloth. A well placed dagger, or bit of poison would easily bring down a mage. It was simply a bit more trickier. More cunning would be needed.

Though she was ready to fight if it was needed, she didn't offer violence as she walked to stand five yards from the surface elf. Her one hand resting on the pommel of her sword lazily. Her feet in a stance to lunge or dodge should he appear a threat, and the boiling water was a good indication he could well be one if he chose to. Something she didn't want nor need to tangle with as of this moment. They were in a dangerous situation and Zarriia was well aware that two worked better than one. Now to see where the elf stood on the matter.

Gold eyes took the elf in, each detail noted as she stood for a few long moments. He was not a bad looking for a surface elf. So she spoke, her voice neutral, but direct. "It seems we're in the same boat, or rather out of our respective boats." She let her lips quirk, her mask lowered as she didn't feel like tasting salt. Her gear would need washed and cleaned before she felt home in it again. "Don't think you'll get any of my supplies, lest you have a bargain to offer. Of course I'm presuming you understand the situation of stranded on a island with cliffs such as those?" Her stance was loose, but she was ready too move. Some surface elves could be so very testy and if this one was then she would have to deal with him for better or worse. She would not let another's idiocy chance her life. He could very well stab her in sleep, or come up when she was wounded or winded. He represented a risk, though one that needed taking.

Quil studied the Drow. It was clear that she was not magically affiliated by the way she carried herself and the way she moved made. He noticed the bow and arrow as well as the knives. Definitely a danger to him. While physically, he can defend himself, (he was after all trained by his father in combat) having the phoenix inhabiting his body made him unstable. He can control a fraction of the fire power inside him but most times it bursted out and caused him damage more than it helped. If he didn't get things under control, he might actually die before he could even do anything or without even setting a foot out of the beach they were in.

"A bargain, perhaps?" Quil rasped out, the words clawing at his dried throat. He coughed several times before he continued. "I need only enough water--" he cleared his throat. "--to wet my throat. I don't have much to offer--" he swallowed and then coughed. "--as I don't have supplies like you do but I can at least dry your clothes and gear." The water around him continued to sizzle, the salt that had formed from the dried up sea water on his armor falling back to the water like powder.

The sun was now filling the beach with a clear light as it fully rose above the horizon. As the two talked, their senses would slowly press about them. With every waking second of conversation each of the two would notice more details about the beach as well as each other.
The beach itself was indeed covered in drift wood, meaning that starting a fire would, or rather should, be easy. The wrecked dwarven ship looked to be very solid despite its rust and age. It could offer them shelter should they manage to cooperate. Several other ships were buried in the sand of the beach. Most of them capsized and buried further inland towards this massive looming cliff. The cliff itself looked to be natural despite its very unnatural height. The ship had a large hole in the left side, the side facing them. This hole was even with the sands, and would allow anyone to walk within the bowels of the ship.
Zarriia would notice that this elf seemed to be in no position to harm her other than for his own survival, and that he could very well dry out her rather damp clothing. If anything, he could start a fire for them to cook fish on should they manage to catch any. Aquilan would notice that this woman was unnaturally calm. It would seem that she was very used to dangers and bad situations, not only that but her bow could be used to fish. Whatever supplies were in that boat would not last forever.
The choice was now theirs to make.

She watched with a cold detachment, as if his magery and position did not bother her. In fact, the magery bothered Zarriia plenty, she had witness and partaken in more than one sacrifices and mages more often than not seemed to enjoy them more than they should. Of course it could just be a Drowish thing, but it was a risk she was willing to take. "Fine. Dry them and you'll have your water." Hopefully he had enough control as to not cook her. Or destroy her much needed gear.

Noting the boat and firewood, she turned her gaze back to the elf. There would be wood and shelter for the night at least, tomorrow she reasoned she would find more secure lodgings. A dwarven ship might hold items of use, most likely kegs of ale and such. Dwarves and their drinking. It nade for a good tavern visit other than that it was far too difficult. "I'll even extend the deal. Share of the supplies, and you follow my orders." Zarriia tilted her head to the side, grinning openly and relaxed.

The phoenix was probably observing the exchange of words as it remained silent in Quil's mind. It didn't bother the elf one bit, her silence gave him time to be himself and to claim his thoughts as his alone. At the drow's consent, Quil stepped forward and crossed the distance between them, his movements slowed by both hunger and thirst. He reached out a hand tentatively, making small movements as not to look threatening. She was definitely a danger to him but at least not for the moment. At the moment, he needed her to survive.

Quil gently laid a hand on the Drow's shoulder. A warm feeling instantly spread through the Drow's body as her clothes and armor dried up, powdered salt falling back onto the sand. He removed his hand from her shoulder as soon as she was completely dry. He stepped back and began looking around. Driftwood littered the beach. It would be an easy task to keep warm throughout the night. Not that he needed it. He was warm enough with the phoenix fire running through his veins. His eyes fell on her bow and arrow. Fish would be easy to catch with the sharp tipped weapons...if she was willing to use them for that purpose. The capsized ship wasn't the most comfortable but it would provide shelter for the meantime. And finally, the daunting cliff. His mind conjured up images of ships smashing on it.

He turned his attention back to the Drow and at the new offer she extended to him. On a normal day, he would have laughed at her offer. He was done following orders. He was free now...

His eyes flicked back to the cliff.

Well, free... in a way...

"Fine." Quil finally agreed. His eyes settled onto her small boat. "Would you mind...? Water?" He rasped.

After moving over to assist the drow, Quil would spot what he asked for. The barrel was upright in the small dingy the drow had arrived in. It was plainly visible from where Aquilan now stood. As he looked at the cliff he would notice that it was no longer as bleak as it was only moments ago. The light of the morning sun was now casting a faint warmth over the both of them as it reached it’s full strength just above the horizon. The cliff face was glowing in the light of the morning sun as the gentle rays bounces off of the many rocks and smoothed slabs of Granite. The even tones almost made the cliff look beautiful. This beauty, however, faded as fast as it had appeared.
Zarriia would hear this man accept her offer without much protest, it was obvious the he needed water. After Zarriia’s cloths were dried, she would feel comfortably warm. This feeling, however, was ruined as she started to feel the salt within her boots. Regardless of this minor detail, she would catch the elf looking her over the same way she had him. His expression was hard to read as his face was dry and his lips were cracked. He wouldn’t be useful no matter what he did if he was not given water soon. Zarria would notice the cliff in the light of the sun as well, the reflected rays removed nearly all of the shadows on the beach. It would be a breathtaking sight in any other situation. Though as the minute passed, so to did the light of the sun.

It would seem that this beach was void of any life aside from seagulls and the two elven bloods. There is not so much as a single skull to mark the death of the men that had been on any of these massive shipwrecks. There were also no smaller craft to be seen. The only ships that were ashore were ones that would never float again. Some of which may not even stay above the new sea of sand that they now rested upon as they rotted away. The only ship that appeared to be hospitable was the dwarven ship they could see resting as though it was made to sail through sand.

The hawk eyed Drow nodded her head slowly as she stepped to the side, leaving the way open towards the boat and her supplies. Walking with sure and swift strides towards the ruin of the Dwarven ship, Zarriia called back over her shoulder. "Don't get greedy, it's got to last us both." Her smile was a feral grin that promised nothing good. "Or I may have to reduce the numbers." The threat in that statement clear and deadly as any of the knives she carried. If he wasted even a morsel she'd gut him. Torture him, enjoy him. Her blood sung with glee at the thought. While she wasn't needlessly blood thirsty, Zarriia was a drow and as such she enjoyed the letting of blood. It fascinated her and thrilled her as few other things did.

Observing the ship she loosened her daggers and sword. Prepared for any attack that may take her by surprise. Her feet moving to more easily balance herself, or spring away should the ship be unstable. Ready for the worst was her motto, and reap the best. Nothing bad could happen when you expected only the worst. With her keen eye, Zarriia was always keen to get the best. Often it was no matter the cost especially when hunting history or things of her amusements. Reaching the ship she peered into the darkness, carefully scoping for any threat or attack. Her hand on her sword hilt.

Aquilan was not a greedy man and he knew the importance of keeping the precarious alliance for now. He ignored the Drow's threat and crossed the small distance between himself and her small supply boat. The first gulp of water soothed his dry throat. He took one more as his eyes strayed towards the cliff. The cliff was almost beautiful to look at had it not been for that daunting feeling of being trapped. He slowly put the water barrel back down, his mind trying to make sense of the situation he suddenly found himself the moment he woke up.

Perhaps being trapped in this god forsaken place isn't such a bad thing. I have nothing to look forward to back in Elswin and nothing to go home to, he found himself thinking grimly.

And what of your plans to seek out the Church's assistance with this predicament forced upon us? came the proud voice in his head.

Quil almost laughed out loud. It was ironic, this concept of him being able to make it back to Elswin alive. Hadn't he heard about the dangers the island holds when he was still a child? No one ever made it back once they stepped foot on Crator Island. It was common knowledge. "Well, Lady, I have no great confidence in my chances of survival in an unknown terrain like this one. Even you thought that death would have served me better than finding myself stuck here," he responded.

There was a long pause that Quil assumed to mean that the phoenix was weighing her options. To have Quil die may mean her death too. Their souls have been so intertwined with each other that the elf's death may be her death as well. If she wanted to be free from this mortal trap, she would have to cooperate with the elf so that he may seek other ways of separating them.

I shall lend you my power, came the phoenix's steady and sure voice.

Quil sighed. "I suppose I should thank you for it. But lending me your power would not ensure our survival. But, I thank you all the same," he said as he stepped out of the small boat and headed towards the only inhabitable looking ship wreck on the beach.

No darkness filled this mighty ship’s hold as Zarriia peered into the hull breach. Another hole could be seen on the opposite side of the ship, as though something not much larger than herself had gone completely through this armored dwarven ship. Crates filled the room, however it appeared that the innards of the ship were very badly damaged. The rooms and hold space in the bow of the ship were inaccessible. As Zarriia stood in the entrance of this ship, she could tell one thing was very off about this wreck- About all of these wrecks. These ships had not crashed via wave, no they had fallen. These ships had fallen from the sky, while it is likely this dwarven vessel may be an airship, the sail bearing vessels that were around them on the beach had no means of getting where they were. A natural tide would have ground the wrecks to splinters years ago. Not to mention that this ship was not filled with seawater despite the innards being slightly lower than the sand. The floor was cracked and bent as sand seemed to have forced it’s way from beneath the boards. This ship would offer shelter, however there were still two very easily accessible holes for which man and varmint alike may enter. Aside from these details, the only other thing present was a large crate and several barrels that looked to be well aged. These crates and barrels are still tied to the pallet that had been loaded onto the ship in port. With luck, they may be full of much needed supplies or tools.
Aquilan would place the barrel down to speak to the drow only to see that she was no longer near him. The silence with which Zarriia moved was unsettling, though the sand would help with this no doubt. His eyes had no problem spotting her, however. Zarriia had already started toward the dwarven ship with weapons ready. One could hope she was eager to find shelter, however the smart man would know this drow was craving a fight. Either way, she was taking the risk of going first. As he followed, he would note that at least one tale of drowish women were true, they are rather pleasing to look at.
To Aquilan, the dwarven ship was without a doubt meant for the skies. He could tell simply from it’s lack of sails that the ship was an early model much like the ones sent in the first explorations of the Western sea. How it managed to suffer such a strange hull breach was indeed quite the mystery, as this bend in its hull was not beneath the ship, but in its side just beneath the top deck. To his knowledge, this ship would have three decks beneath the first, however as he followed the drow and could see within the ship he would see that the other decks were inaccessible. The ship was likely missing it’s entire bottom half given the consistency of the sand.

The drow woman frowned at the holes in mild concern. She would have preferred one way in and a wall she could get about at her back. But as this was what she had, it would do for the first night. Night would fall and far too quickly for Zarriia's liking. They would need firewood, which seemed plentiful, and something to block the back of the whole. Sizing them up her brow furrowed as she worked out whether the small boat she came in could be put on it's side or propped against the ship to perhaps limit the light of the fire and make a rough wall. But she kept her steps light and weapons at the ready as she moved over to the supplies in the dwarven ship to pry lids off of the barrels and crate to see what laid inside.

As she moved and worked carefully, there was no need to get a asp in the face, or some deadly trap, Zarriia was prepared to jump away or 'hit the deck'. Her lips twitched at the humor in that thought, though she didn't let the elf see it. Best he think her ruthless, cold and deadly. Safer for her, and better to keep him quelled. Speaking with a authoritative tone, she purred adding a sultry inflection on her voice. "Do be a dear and get fire wood and bring out supplies over here. Night will be upon us soon, and I'd rather not attract unwanted attention." Sharp eyes cast over her shoulder at Aquilla, "Lest you think these fell by sheer happen stance?"

Quil's sharp eyes shifted from admiring the drow to the dwarven ship. The wreck, he noted was actually an airship and not a sea faring vessel. The hull was intact in most parts but the breach just beneath the top deck was probably what caused it to crash. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out from where he was standing the emblem that was painted on the hull. The paint was faded but it was still visible. It looked familiar but Quil couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. Dismissing the thought for the meantime, he turned his attention to where he was going. He was at the hull breach's edge when he heard the Drow's commanding voice.

"No, I do not think that this ship ran aground by coincidence," he commented as his eyes fell on the hole opposite the one he came in from. "Something shot it out of the sky from the way its damages look. Of course, I can always be wrong," he said before turning away to do as she commanded. He did, after all, promised to do as she said.

Gathering firewood was an easy task as there was plenty lying round. It took Quil only several minutes to have enough firewood gathered and pull the small supply boat to where the wreck was.

The sun was already at an angle in the sky as the time passed.

Zarriia would be startled as two doves fled their roost from one of the nearby beams that had separated from the decking above. The lids of the barrels were easy enough to split, revealing what looked and smelled like dwarven ale. She would have no idea if the stuff was sour or not, but it was something worth finding. If nothing else, the barrel would offer a easy place to store rainwater. The several tied down crates were harder to get into. Telling Aquilan to gather firewood, she would set to work. The rope holding down the crates was still very strong, which means that it would be a waste to cut it. Maneuvering the ropes to the edges of the crates, she was able to pry the lid off of one of the crates in the time it took Aquilan to gather a healthy bundle of firewood and move the small boat up the beach.

Aquilan would set out to gathering driftwood and planks to prepare for whatever night may hold. He spent very little time picking up the light wooden planks that were littered about the beach, however a strange ship managed to catch his eye. This boat was made out of ironwood, making it’s hull glow a different color in the rising sun’s light. The symbol of a dove in flight was visible on the upside down ship’s bow just before the sandline. Something about the ship seemed to cause him pause. Though there was little time for exploring at the moment. He moved on after dropping off the firewood to move the dinghy up the beach where the drow had requested. Aquilan would note that this boat was a lot heavier than it looked. Dragging it up the beach proved to be a slight challenge, however it was doable without too much exertion. After dragging the boat up the beach, he would not the drow has managed to open one of the unravaged crates.

Inside of this crate was a sight that would normally be appalling to Zarriia. Dwarven military rations. The crate was packed with them, more than enough to last her and the elf for the greater part of two weeks should they eat nothing else. Not to mention there were two more crates tied down with this one.

The Drow glanced up at the doves before dismissing them as not a threat. They were merely doves, but doves meant food. Tempting as it was to string her bow and hunt, it wasn't the time. Not yet. They had supplies, and if worst came to worst she'd resort to eating the elf. It was a horrible thing to do but it was a matter of survival. Zarriia was nothing if not a survivor. The ale would be useful, though not as a drink. It would not be worth while. Better to use it as a weapon, or fuel if it resorted to that. Wedging the ropes off she steadily worked it off the lid, pulling it off quickly. Her sword was ready to attack any threat or deflect it.

Letting the ropes remain on the other two she replace the lids and began to dig a pit of the fire. Adjusting it so it was higher on the side with a clear veiw of the beach. "Put the wood for the fire in there. Stack the rest in the boat to help weigh it down." She looked at the spare entrance, checking both the time and weather as she did so. "Don't drink the ale, may be of use later. Three boxes of rations." Her voice gave a deep chuckle. "You have a affinity with fire. Something comes up, dump ale on them and set it on fire." She grinned with a violent glee. "Sounds like a warm bonfire."

Quil silently complied with the Drow's commands, his mind on the ironwood wreck on the beach. The insignia on it was strangely familiar to him the way the dwarven emblem was. But he couldn't quite figure out where he had seen it or why it even mattered.

Because it symbolizes the civilization you desire to return to, the ellegant voice in his head declared.

Is that it? Is that the only reason why I think it's familiar somehow? Quil thought back. Normally, he would have spoken out aloud but he was in close proximity of the drow and he didn't want her to know of his unique situation. He dumped firewood into the pit that the drow had made and the rest into the dinghy. When the phoenix didn't answer, he thought to ask another question. Do you recognize the signs?

A haughty voice answered. I do not concern myself with mortal made symbols.

Quil sighed just as the drow's sharp voice cut through his thougts. "You have a affinity with fire. Something comes up, dump ale on them and set it on fire." He looked towards the barrel filled with dwarven ale and shrugged his shoulder. He was never really fond of dwarven ale anyway. "As you wish," was all he said.

He paused as he quickly reassessed his situation. A drow that would no doubt kill him if she wanted. A phoenix that offered her help but at the same time probably wanted nothing more than to see him dead so she can be free. The leader of the Academy that sent him to the island under the pretense of a scientific mission but in truth wanted him dead. An island that shows no mercy and brought death upon anyone unlucky enough to set foot on its shores. Everything seemed to point to death. Wonderful, he thought sullenly.

Surviving may greatly depend on working together with his dark skinned kin. "My name is Aquilan. May I know yours?" he asked in a polite tone of voice.

The sky was absent of clouds as the sun was perhaps two hours away from being directly overhead. Time passed quickly as they scavenged the beach, work no doubt distracting the two elves from the horrid thoughts of death… well, perhaps distracting Aquilan. The fire pit took a while to make as Zarriia had to cut away pieces of the floor so that the wood beneath the fire would not catch flame and burn their shelter to the ground. The sand beneath offered the mound required to stack against the wooden floor. The slight slant to the floor offered an open view of this fire pit to the beach, though not a single ship had washed ashore or passed by during their time so far. As Zarriia filled the firepit with wood and situated the inside of the ship so that they could use it as a shelter, Aquilan would take note of just how desperate his situation was. He had worked to stack the driftwood and planks in the boat to block the other entrance as the drow had previously instructed, making only one entrance to this ship in which a fire pit had been erected near. The deck had a large grated door which would be opened when cargo would be loaded, meaning that the smoke would not be trapped within the hull. This shelter seemed to be quite perfect, however there was a new feeling that overtook both of the elves just as Zarriia would respond to Aquilian’s request for her name. A feeling that something was watching them.

The sun was yet rising, the day was young and filled with possibilities. Zarriia looked at the imposing cliff side and frowned with a puzzled expression. "My name is Aquilan. May I know yours?" The words broke her concentration upon the dunes of sand and the many scraps of boats. They would need better shelter, a steady source of food. And various other things. Glancing back at the elf, her face looking rather young and blankly open for a small second before her eyes sharpened and her lips twitched down in a frown.

What good would her name do them? But then again it was a civil thing. She grumbled a Drowish curse, turning back to look at the dunes. Stalking off across the dunes. "Zarriia Ma'doc." Not looking for a reply she walked, taking note of ships and dismissing fire wood. Looking for more supplies and weapons. Or access to more ships, or other little cubbies hidden amongst the dunes of the beach.