A chain of islands attract crashes aerial and nautical. When a chrome plane is brought down onto an island in the middle of the open sea, the stirring of prophecy and battle will wake warlords in this tropical medieval world.
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There was a loud grinding, whining, metal yell. It sound like a dull chalky moan as if someone coughing on rocks were letting out bated breaths. Carter placed his hand over his eyes, they were sore from sunburn. He looked down to find sand, sand everywhere. His legs were peppered with sand. His waist was hidden, and of Carter's shoes he could not tell you. What was evident however, was the throbbing pain in Carters left shoulder. He grasped his arm, revealing to his eyes the blinding sensation of the brutal sun. The whining continued. Carter sat up blinking, silky white sand falling from his ripped T-shirt, similar particles ejecting from his mouth as he coughed. As his eyes adjusted, he began to focus on portions of a scene that did not make sense. A large cylindrical metal object sat nestled amongst the small beach dunes with a trail of upturned rocks and trees left in its wake. The front of the large structure just barely reach the tree-line separating forest from sand. There was a long metal plate fixed upon its top near the middle. He gagged, and threw up all over his hips and crotch.
"Augh." He said,
He began to stand, placing his elbow under himself before rising slowly. His eyes had been confusedly racing from one blurry visual interpretation to the other, yet as his eyes focused the confusion grew greater. A desolate landscape of crying metal, foot impressions in the sand and some distant figures, stirring or otherwise. His pain intensified, and so did that dull, annoying whining. Carter spied the instrument of noise pollution, a flap of metal hung from the connected flat piece on the top of the metal cylinder. From the angle at which this flat portion dug into the sand, Carter could reach the flap. He stumbled forth towards the droning noise, but fell as he was within ten feet. Another dry groan passed his lips,
"Ehrmuuughhh." was his remark.
This time however, a voice gave call somewhere from whence he came. A short cough, like a hiccup with more rasp. Carter spun where he laid, pushing himself onto his back using his one good arm. There was a figure, slumped against an overturned rock like they had been sitting but slipped down to bend their neck. Carter breathed heavily, and his head spiraled as he engaged with the reality of his situation. Where are we? I mean I?, and who is that? His eyes seeped into every detail surrounding him, attempting to provide rationale to an already panicking mindset. They returned focused to the figure slumped as another short muffled exhale battled with the sound waves of the slowly droning flap. Carter brought himself to his feet and pressed his good arm against the flap, stopping it's movement and halting the wailing.
His head hung for a second, but when he brought it up an even stranger scene presented itself before him. A man stood by the laying figure, bent over slightly and staring at the figure. What surprised Carter most was what he was wearing; a fit blanket covered by a set-piece of vertical sticks tied in rows. It was combined with a fit skirt of red dyed palm tree leaves. The man held a long-spear tensely, and wore some form of sneaker; if Carter could recall correctly, they would be New Balance, but with no socks. He wore a gorget of small sticks tied along string hung from a sort of collar beneath his larynx. The man had some form of flat wooden surface leaning against his leg. The man seemed to be speaking to the figure slumped over, so Carter decided to leave off the flap and stumbled forwards. Thankfully the flap didn't whine when he left. As he approached more details became apparent. The beach he was on had become a scene of carnage. Large fires blossomed happily on top of collapsed trees, that Carter knew must have been due to the crash landing. The crash landing. Carters' minds eye replayed the howling screams blowing past his face as those unlucky enough to spring from their seats as they fell would be consumed by the open door leading to blue sky. Carter remembered the violent rumbling followed by a great resounding shake, and from there Carter's mind swam with memories of him stumbling from the metal cylinder and falling onto his back a good few steps from the opened exit door. Carter finally reached the armored man, who wasn't bending over anymore, and instead looked plainly towards him. He held what seemed to Carter as a wooden helmet; with a large flat visor on the front. There was some form of sigil. It matched a sigil found on the flat piece of wood leaning against the man's leg. He picked up the wooden surface and fixed it to his left arm, so Carter felt stupid for not realizing it was a shield.
