karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?
Team Perimeter (Niki, Sunjata, Remi, Ronin)
They’re barely halfway through marking the first side when the distant cry of seabirds turns into a swooping problem. A trio of hels—cocky white nuisances with the gall of pirates—come skimming low over the sand. One’s already made off with a length of flagging in its beak thinking it was a snack, flapping in the breeze like a stolen streamer, while the others circle as if scouting for the next shiny prize. Every time someone moves to chase them off, they hop just out of reach, croaking smugly.
Team Supplies (Danta & Asta)
The spec sheet is going fine—right up until they get to the second crate of hardware. It’s not there. In its place? A distinctly empty impression in the sand and a little trail of dragged marks leading toward the dunes. Whatever made off with it was strong enough to haul a full crate, and judging by the deep, uneven prints, it wasn’t human. There’s the occasional glint of a dropped nail in the trail, catching the sun like a breadcrumb path.
Team Walkthrough (Flora, Sohalia, Mateo)
What had started as a peaceful stroll to check for rocks and roots is suddenly...not. Soh’s aerial sweep pays off almost instantly: there’s movement in the sand ahead. A dozen or so crabs—not the little hand-sized ones, but big, dinner-plate bruisers—have staked out a spot right in the middle of where the living room will be. They’re busily digging, shifting sand in tidy little mounds, and every so often one waves a claw at the others like it’s giving instructions. One particularly bold crab (the size of a watermelon) has an old spoon clutched in one claw like a weapon.
Soh’s warning from above has Flora squinting into the sunlight until she spots the trouble. Her brows lift, slow and incredulous, as the colony of sand-shuffling crustaceans comes into focus. "Oh, absolutely not," she mutters, planting her hands on her hips. "This is prime real estate, gentlemen, and your lease is up."
The one with the spoon brandishes it at her like a duelist, and Flora actually takes a step back, laughing under her breath. "Bold, but still no." Glancing up toward the sky, Flora gives the mental command for Spice to do her thing.
They’re barely halfway through marking the first side when the distant cry of seabirds turns into a swooping problem. A trio of hels—cocky white nuisances with the gall of pirates—come skimming low over the sand. One’s already made off with a length of flagging in its beak thinking it was a snack, flapping in the breeze like a stolen streamer, while the others circle as if scouting for the next shiny prize. Every time someone moves to chase them off, they hop just out of reach, croaking smugly.
Team Supplies (Danta & Asta)
The spec sheet is going fine—right up until they get to the second crate of hardware. It’s not there. In its place? A distinctly empty impression in the sand and a little trail of dragged marks leading toward the dunes. Whatever made off with it was strong enough to haul a full crate, and judging by the deep, uneven prints, it wasn’t human. There’s the occasional glint of a dropped nail in the trail, catching the sun like a breadcrumb path.
Team Walkthrough (Flora, Sohalia, Mateo)
What had started as a peaceful stroll to check for rocks and roots is suddenly...not. Soh’s aerial sweep pays off almost instantly: there’s movement in the sand ahead. A dozen or so crabs—not the little hand-sized ones, but big, dinner-plate bruisers—have staked out a spot right in the middle of where the living room will be. They’re busily digging, shifting sand in tidy little mounds, and every so often one waves a claw at the others like it’s giving instructions. One particularly bold crab (the size of a watermelon) has an old spoon clutched in one claw like a weapon.
Soh’s warning from above has Flora squinting into the sunlight until she spots the trouble. Her brows lift, slow and incredulous, as the colony of sand-shuffling crustaceans comes into focus. "Oh, absolutely not," she mutters, planting her hands on her hips. "This is prime real estate, gentlemen, and your lease is up."
The one with the spoon brandishes it at her like a duelist, and Flora actually takes a step back, laughing under her breath. "Bold, but still no." Glancing up toward the sky, Flora gives the mental command for Spice to do her thing.
