Turk broke the surface of the water, taking a huge gasp of air, flailing his reptilian arms wildly in the air. He sputtered and coughed. His clothes were soaked all the way through, completely waterlogged. He was unimaginably exhausted, and part of him just wanted to let himself sink back into the ocean. But, no, that wouldn't do. He kicked off his shoes and slowly, practically crawling on the surface of the water, approached a nearby beach. He cast his webbed fingers into the water and kicked his similarly webbed feet. The journey lasted about a minute before he pulled himself onto the soft, surprisingly white sand. Well, he made it. The new world. Bloody brilliant.
Turk rolled onto his back, and felt something dig into his waist. He reached down and found that his sailing dagger had luckily enough, remained in it's holster. He could only imagine it was because of the small piece of cloth that buttoned from his belt to the top of the holster, making it so the dagger handle was kept neatly inside.
He sat there for a while, letting the sun warm his body. Grunting, he extended his arms outwards and brought his upper-body to a vertical position. Glancing lazily around, he saw some folk he couldn't bother to recognize yet standing up. Well, at least he wasn't alone. The ocean nipped at his legs, and Turk was content to just sit on the sand for now. Getting to his feet sounded like an endeavor he didn't want to partake in just yet. His head had a vague dull pain about it, and his shoulders were killing him.
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