The wanderers had come to expect the unexpected as they traversed this underslung realm. A kingdom of dust draped in quiet shadow, punctuated by the occasional sandstorm or pack of mites whose territorial claims were best left uncontested. It had not been their decision to come here (a tale unto itself); but for the most part they were thankful. The domain beyond the grey borders of this place was a barren waste of linoleum ravines and unpredictable tremors, perpetually watched by the dissonant glare of unblinking suns. They had neither the resolve nor the supplies to endure such a trek for long.

But even they could not anticipate a cypress typhoon crashing across the plains. Unannounced, its vast churning emerald waves swallowed the horizon and devoured every semblance of a shore. Snaking tongues slithered through every ravine, drowning cloistered abysses their frothy drool while struggling insects sputtered in the wake – flung around and seized in the undertow. Tiny figures lost in a sea of upheaved silt and salty brine. Consumed and forgotten in the depths of that liquid appetite as the sea surged over.

The flatland betrayed them; unburdened by so much as a tall hill. Without deliverance from those ravenous waters, they resigned themselves to weathering the onslaught on a pillar of rust. Dust laden, lustered crusted over by the unkind lacquer of age, they did its pitted surface no favors with the scruff and scratch of claws and paws and talons scrambling against its hide. Metal monument, time forgotten wreckage? The depth of their desperation afforded them no moment to spare pondering. Even this haste was not enough to secure them; as the impatient tidal wave slammed against the stalwart surface.

Dribbling fingers groped against their frames while the torrent crashed upon them. An explosion of foam masked their vision and drowned their cries in the terrible muted quiet of fluid. Pressure from all sides that made their chests sting and limbs numb. The lather slather of the sea soaked frames, slithered beneath white-knuckled grips. Battering debris slapped them aside - tearing them away into the tide. Helpless eyes watched their companions’ splash and thrash. Their best was not enough – with every stroke forward they slipped three back. Arms strained, reaching, pleading above the wet roar. But not a single arm extended; they saw before them what waited if the all-consuming current seized them in its tepid jaws.

When the waves subsided, they were left alone on a titled island of steel in the middle of a cypress sea. Though safe from the tumultuous tide, their depleted (where not entirely missing) supplies and the muted growl of hunger in their collective gut spoke of prospective starvation not long at bay. Even more sinister was the still and chill that swept across the surface of that vast expanse. Wintry whispers, the cold sigh of evaporation from so voluminous a surface. Already a crust of daggers had begun to crystallize at the base of their iron tower – long needles whose sharp points lurked menacingly in the shallows. Not wanting to end up stranded and starving with only a suspect sheet of crystal-glass separating them the murky fathoms, they used their spears to pry loose an oblong raft of rust flakes and shoved off from the lonely pillar.

Traversing the briny ocean was arduous, but the true challenge seemed to be finding shore. Everywhere the sea ended it crusted over into a forest of swords. The twined blades intersected one another, piercing, propagating upward and outward in their duel for dominance. Hidden shallows hosted bristling corals where the growing crystalline surfaces lay in wait – occasionally scraping along their valiant (if perilously fragile) vessel should they venture too near. Flecks and shards tumbled from those creaking colossi, ringing the fjords with the echoing sound of groaning glass and splashes. Often a fragment set adrift would begin to crystallized at its periphery; growing into a serrated raft they were forced to hurriedly evade.

Navigating the dizzying and developing archipelago led to their eventual snare in a flowing river that weaved through the dense crystalline mat. Too fast to settle, only the largest of those pillars could feed from the stream. And devour they did; the concentrated brine had wrought enormous stalks, around which the current ebbed and crested. Though for all its clever speed, each splinter in the stream thinned. Narrower and narrower the inlet pressed in upon them, keeping their attention on each bladed arm that swung their way. Though, they would soon find their paranoia misplaced.

The first signs were the senseless ripples and the alien wakes that stirred the raft and tumbled them around in the stream. Perhaps they would have recognized them for what they were, if they hadn’t blamed one another for paddling off-stroke or being lazy at the oars. Sharp bickering that cascaded along the walls of that razor valley. Angry accusations resounding and echoing back at their source. Distractions bleeding into one another, masking the approach of a calamitous monster until it was too late.

An eruption of chitin lunged from the depths. Eyeless, faceless lamprey jaws flexing wide, wreathed with bladed teeth that glistened wetly before the entire serpentine entity swooped down upon them and burst through the very center of their rust-flake. Scrambling to its extremity, they could only watch in horror as the semi-translucent hide of the voracious beast chipped more and more of the raft until it simply shattered. The strewn apart fragments sloshing around in the disturbed waters, they floundered helplessly. Bubbling liquid around them churned as the enormity of their predatory was hinted at by coils seeping in and out of the sea all around them. Its partially transparent hide nearly blended in with the water and the crystals – only the rarefaction of its chitin in the air hinting at its presence. It was a cunning camouflage and they had drifted right into its trap.

Still struggling to recover from the initial foray, the eyeless maw resurfaced in a bitter spray. As it hulked over them, leering, scanning with whatever alien senses such monsters host, they stumbled to arms. For the bulk of the party, this consisted of grappling for the sharpest flecks of rust or crystal fragments in reach. Their spears had been lost in the attack or ensuring panic. Not trusting the briny depths with their fate of the serrated shoreline around them, they brought whatever they had to bear, - even it meant ripping loose a sword of rust right off the very raft they stood upon. Something, anything to ensure that if they made just one strike it would be a memorable one. Drifting perilously close to the beast, an otter and fox exchanged glances, nodding as they brought their spears to bear.

Just one strike was all they needed to make…

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Part 3 of the Nanofauna Adventure:
Part1, Part2

Done by the master of painted perspective himself;  KernelDecoy - whose original submission you should view, favorite and comment on here.


Nanofauna adventurers are, left to right

Levi, the lapis lazuli dragon,  setithe-wurst  Wisty  Kadaire and  Mentova