The last time we saw our bearded adventurers, Rocket awakens and meets his rescuers. As he gains consciousness, the observant heroes unravel his life before him: his job, where he’s from when he’s from… all the while the Inventor pulls Rocket’s ship back to Franklin. Meanwhile, Captain Crimson dumps the Witch Doctor on a deserted island without incident. He sails away before finally saying the magic words to release the Witch Doctor from his chains. As Crimson sails away towards glory and conquest, he is intercepted by a strange entity.
Crimson lowers his eyeglass. After everything he’s seen, Captain Crimson has not seen anything like this. A man runs across the water, his bronze skin glistening in the bright sun. Long dark hair tumbles down his head like a waterfall. A thick, dark beard clings to the man’s chin like black moss. An intense scowl seems stuck upon his face. Tribal tattoos stretch down his left shoulder, running all the way down to his hand, which grips a hand crafted pololu. The pololu was intricately carved, with several aggressive barbs trailing down the first quarter of the weapon’s length. Detailed koru spirals wind down the spear shaft. Crimson recognized the barbs on the spear from the harpoons that he used as a young man on his first whaling vessel. He also notices a hole carved into the end of the pololu, a likely place to tie the hemp rope hanging from the stranger’s ie. The man takes a single leap and lands on the deck of the Mystic Wave. Unswayed by the mysterious entity’s superhuman entrance, Crimson swaggers down to the deck.
“Welcome aboard the Mystic Wave. I am your Captain, Crimson and this is my first mate Cole,” announces Crimson with a flourish. “And who might you be?”
The stranger drives his pololu down into the deck, the spearhead sticking into the wood of the Mystic Wave. Crimson cringes hard but tries to mask his annoyance.
“Captain,” booms the voice from the stranger. “I am an avenger of O’le island and I have need of your vessel,” says the islander as he wanders around the deck, inspecting the ship.
“Well that explains everything,” quips first-mate Cole facetiously following an exaggerated eye roll.
The islander turns to face Cole, he scowl somehow becoming more intense, his brows furrowing until they almost touch.
“And what service, pray tell, could the Mystic Wave, provide someone who could simply walk across the water,” asks Crimson, quickly trying to turn the islanders attention away from the previous comment.
“I seek a great beast. He owes me a debt that will be paid in blood. I will need a ship that I can use to hunt him. When I am hunting for him, I will need a steady place to stand and a hearty ship to help me pull the beast up from the depths. This ship will do,” finishes the islander, though not sounding completely convinced of the Wave’s ability to complete the task.
“Will do?!?!” cries Crimson incredulously. “This is the MIGHTY Mystic Wave. She’s sailed to the ends of the earth, fought gargantuan frogs, and navigated the raging waters between worlds. Whatever sardine you’re hunting this ship can handle it,” finishes the Captain with an air of superiority.
“Very good Captain,” answers the Angler, “If she is as good as advertised, I’ll have my revenge on the Shark.”
The Marksman drops the aim of his crossbow. He sees innocence, and now fear in the Giant’s eyes. The leaves of the Giant shake and the moss hanging off his chin bristles back and forth nervously.
The Marksman steps back, allowing the strange creature to sit up and rest on its elbows.
“A wood giant, I’ll say, I never expected to see one of you in my lifetime,” comments the Marksman in awe. “Where have you been all these years?”
“I know not, ranger,” answers the Giant, genuinely confused. “We giants are beings tied directly to the land we call our own. In the days when man-kind put began to put his yoke around the realm, the magic of nature faded. Most of us used what little magic we had to go into hiding, hibernating in a form that would hide us from the rest of the world, waiting for a time when magic would once again float on the breeze, giving life to me and my brethren,” the Giant says with a mixture of sadness, nostalgia, and hope his mind wondering on wilder days.
The Marksman sees this a feels sympathy for the Giant. “I am the Marksman. I’ve spent many days on the run, hiding and living in the wild places. I do despise their destruction. I am sorry you have been driven to this.”
Suddenly the Giant snaps back to attention, “Almost a month ago, I felt a surge of powerful magic. I was awoken, as have some of my other brethren. I’ve tried to sneak around at night to find its source. This power, it calls to me. What could it be Marksman? It would take an event of cataclysmic proportions to bring about such an event so suddenly.”
The Marksman is already considering what could do this, and then it occurs to him…
“I was part of a band of adventurers, we travelled to the ends of the world to retrieve a powerful artifact with the power to change time and space. A powerful Wizard subsequently had to absorb the power of the artifact to defeat a great evil,” offers the Marksman.
“Oh I see, this could indeed be the power that has awaken the giants,” answers the Giant. “How wonderful that magic once again has its rightful place in the universe. And the weilder, he is just and kind?”
“Absolutely, he is wise beyond anyone else I know and he seeks the good of the Fableverse,” replies the Marksman.
“He must also be brave,” continues the Giant, “This power will awaken all sorts of magical beings good, evil, and indifferent. That kind of immense power can be an invaluable tool, but it’ll be an invitation for insidious forces to come and take it.”
“Well he has many powerful and loyal friends, no need to worry about him,” says the Marksman cautiously.
“Good, he’s going to need them,” says the Giant.
Narrated by Brandon Warner