Preface

The Deamon Fish

The harbour in the County Capital was a quiet place along the river. This river fed directly into the sea a few short miles around the bend. The water here was still fresh and clean. The town, which was called Hangman’s Harbour, was well known for its river fishing. Many Elyrians traveled far and wide to fish its gentle shores and calmly flowing currents. Ygra was no different. She had ventured from the far north for just this. Ygra, however, wasn’t interested in the river’s normal stock of pike and trout. She was after the Daemon Fish.

Some said it was a giant eel. Others that it was a resident sturgeon that refused to return to the sea. Others said it was a mutant creature created by evil curses set upon it by crazed woods shamans! They said that if one were to catch the Daemon Fish, they would be cursed forever. Regardless of the tall tales around the Daemon Fish, one thing was true: There was a very large and very hungry fish that lurked in the waters of the river near Hangman’s Harbour. Locals often saw ducks sucked completely under. There were even reports of dogs being attacked. Many people claimed to have witnessed a large dark shadow, or huge splashes in the normally quiet and calm waters. News of this fish had spread across Elyria. Fishermen from all over would come to fish for the Daemon Fish. No one had been successful to date though. These reports, and the difficulty of catching the Daemon Fish, enticed Ygra to travel from her home in the taiga to catch the biggest fish she or anyone from her pack, had ever witnessed.

Ygra came with her friend and packmate Groz. He was a big Brudvir, and she was glad he was there to help her tackle this huge fish. The two of them set about with their fishing rods to the shore of the river. There they boarded a small row boat with a single sail. It was early morning, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Warm pink light was brushing up against the dark cool night. They sailed out into the middle of the river and dropped anchor.

Ygra hooked a chunk of beef to her giant hook and cast the line far out into the gentle current of the river. It sank quickly as it was a hefty piece and floated slowly down river. Groz did the same, but with a bloody chunk of bream instead. The two then sat back, and let the “hunt” commence. They both sipped on bitter tea as they relaxed, waiting for the first bite. The weather was lovely this far south. It was spring, but it was already warm. Not to warm for the two Brudvir. At least not yet.

Time passed slowly as the two dozed in and out of sleep. The long journey to Hangmans Harbour had tired them greatly. They were, however, resolved to catch the Daemon Fish. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the day grew warmer. A cool breeze blew in from down river which kept the both of them comfortable. They had lost all sense of danger by this point. Everything was just so peaceful!

Then, Groz’s rod began to shake violently as line was released into the water! The reel screamed in anger. Groz grabbed the rod and gave it a strong yank. The pole was bent in a “c” shape by this point. They had hooked the Daemon Fish! Ygra started to reel in her bait as Groz began the fight. She reached over and grabbed the bait, only to find that there was only a small chunk left, with a huge pointed tooth stuck in it! She gasped, but as she reached for the bait, Groz bumped her and the sharp tooth fell into the water. It didn’t matter though, they had the beast on the hook!

The fish was a fighter. It would run for long distances, almost stripping Groz’s reel of line. It wasn’t an immortal beast though, for it would tire and Groz could reclaim some of his lost line. As the fight wore on, Groz got the beast closer and closer to the boat. Ygra had the net ready. The beast was almost in. Suddenly the Daemon Fish lurched in a great rush of strength, and ran fast and hard! The boat, which was anchored, was beginning to move.

Ygra started to drag the anchor rope up, but it snapped under the great resistance of being pulled along the rocky bottom of the river. She then turned to the sail, and tried to ride the wind to help Groz land the giant fish! The row boat was being pulled quickly as it was being dragged down river, toward the sea. The boat rounded the bend, and Hangmans Harbour was out of sight.

Groz then handed Ygra the rod to fight the fish. He was sweating and it was clear the beast had bested him for the moment. Ygra grabbed the rod and began her portion of the fight! Groz manned the sail and the rudder, trying his best to help Ygra fight the fish! Ygra pulled and reeled in, then pulled and reeled in again! It was a rhythmic motion. Even though they were being towed, she felt like they were making progress. That was, until the ocean came into view. They had been dragged all the way to the mouth of the river, and were fast approaching the sea!

The time came for Ygra to make a decision. Cut the line and lose the fish, or be dragged out to sea. Ygra thought about it for a moment, but brushed aside all thought of surrender! She continued to reel and pull, reel and pull. Faster now, the sea came closer. The Daemon Fish wasn’t going to be taken this day. Ygra and Groz soon found themselves in open water. The Daemon Fish then dove deep into the sea, and after a vicious back and forth with Ygra, the line snapped and the Daemon Fish was gone to the briny depths.

Ygra cursed as she wiped sweat from her brow. Groz groaned. They were both tired beyond belief. That was the hardest fight they had ever had with any creature. When Ygra finally turned to look at the shore, she saw nothing. Groz and Ygra looked at each other in fright. They should have cut the line. Now, they were drifting out to sea, and couldn’t see the land anymore! Terror crept into their expressions. This wasn’t good.

Their boat lurched to the side as something huge rammed it. It was so sudden and violent Groz almost fell out into the water. The Daemon Fish was back for revenge! The two of them saw a giant shadow pass under the boat. It was easily bigger than Groz. It was bigger than the boat! Ygra gripped the rigging tightly, trying to brace for the next impact. Groz held onto the gunwale as tightly as he could. They were trapped out in open water, and were being hunted by a fish!

The Daemon Fish battered the boat again, and a leak sprung from the tiny deck! Water began to fill the inside. Groz stuffed a coat into the hole, but that only slowed the inevitable. They were sinking! Despite their fear, they got to the oars and started rowing furiously. Luck was on their side, as they had chosen the right direction. Soon land was in sight! They cheered loudly! However, the Daemon Fish was still in pursuit. It had circled around their boat while they rowed, and rammed them a few times more. The coat held though, and continued to slow the water. Ygra dropped an oar and let loose the sail. The wind was coming in off the sea, and it propelled them faster and faster. The Daemon Fish pursued and as the row boat entered the shallow, it jumped out of the water, and clear over the boat in a final display of power! Ygra and Groz cowered in fear, but Ygra managed a peek at the beast, All she could see was a dark shadow blocking out the afternoon sun. A colossal wave produced from the fish’s landing pushed their boat further in, and in short time, it was beached. Ygra and Groz jumped out of the now smashed boat and dropped to their knees on the shore. They kissed the ground and thank the spirits for their safe return! They would certainly try to tell this story to their pack. Who would believe them though? They had fought the Daemon Fish and lived, but the tale was too fantastic to believe!

When the Dead Come Sailing Home.

There was a tattooed man, with a cut off hand. He had tales to tell, from a far away land. In 561 of the fourth age, a ship with crew went down and drowned on their way to a fabled land. The one handed man relayed this tale and warned us all of the impending doom that approached our lonely seaside town. He said…

“At sea there dreadful horrors be. They’re coming here fer you and me, and we’ll all be doomed when the dead come sailing home.”

It was the time just before the Queen’s Gaze. The Queen’s Eye was expected to show very soon. Everyone in the small seaside town of Sand Vale was preparing for the event. Out of nowhere, a grizzled old sea salt arrives on a tiny one masted boat. He had one hand, and was covered in tattoos. The Neran disembarked his leaky little boat, and made fast for the tavern. He sat down, and ordered everyone present a round of drinks. Then he gathered them all around and began to relay the tale.

It was the year 561 of the fourth age, the current age. A ship was sailing to a fabled land in search of riches and exotic goods. He would not tell us the name of this fabled land though. The ship was crewed with a full complement of sailors and was the first vessel of its kind. The shipwrights had spent many years researching it, and trying to prepare it for a voyage across the deepest ocean. They had tried to build it to withstand the roughest sea storms. The shipyard where the vessel was made was in a town, long forgotten, but not far from current day Sand Vale. All the efforts of the nobles’ shipwrights were for naught though. The crew sailed out in the summer of 561, and was never seen again. That is not the end of the tale. For you see, a single survivor washed up on a shore not far from Sand Vale. He was muttering crazy sentences of doom and death to those who found him. The Hrothi man was so traumatized they had to take him to the local doctor. On his deathbed, he relayed the story of how the ship went down. It had sunk in a great storm, but none the likes of which anyone alive today had seen, save for him. The wind howled, and the rain stung the deck. Lightning flashed a purple flash across the sky, and the heavens roared with thunder. As the ship went down the Captain cursed:

“We dead won’t stay! I’ll sell me soul to be back one day! In a hundred years! The Dead will sail again!”

The Hrothi sailor died after uttering those words. Now the one handed man was here telling us, that one hundred years will pass soon, when the Queen’s Eye is highest in the sky. He warned that the crew of the damned and their rotten leaky ship would rise from the depths of the sea, to return home, cursed and forsaken by the nobility that doomed them to their watery fates. Of course, no one in Sand Vale believed him. They listened intently to his tale, as he had just ordered them all drinks, nodded and agreed that it was dangerous, then went about their business.

Soon, the Queen’s Eye was high in the sky. The lighthouse keeper kept watch over the foggy shoreline. The torch in the lighthouse burned brightly, and the old keeper tended it well. Never had a ship crashed upon the rocks, or grounded itself on the reefs near Sand Vale. This night, however, was eerily foggy. The sky was clear, and the Queen’s Eye blazed brightly in the sky. This fog was unnatural, thought the Keeper. He gazed out into the thick mist, until he saw that dreaded sight.

Out of the gloom, a silent silhouette glided toward the shore. The Keeper’s eyes widened with terror as he ran for the tavern! He burst into the room where many of the townsfolk were celebrating the Queen’s Gaze. He shouted at them to come outside and look out across the sea.

Everyone, including the old sea salt who had warned them, went out to the shore and beheld the terrible sight. The one handed man sighed and exclaimed:

“A hundred years had passed so fast, ahoy… Behold at sea a crooked mast! A rotten deck, on a leaky hull! On it a rime of scum and bones! We’re all doomed now that the dead come sailing home!”

The church bell tolled, as it was to celebrate the Gaze, but instead it felt more like a welcoming for the returning dead. The night was silent as the ghost ship slowly made its way closer and closer to the shore. The village was in full panic. People were running to their homes screaming in fear as the atmosphere of the town thickened and the night grew that much darker. The ship drew close to the shore, and seemed to anchor a few hundred meters away. By now, the townsfolk could see the crew of the damned working on the grimey slim covered decks. They could hear the bosun’s orders, and the crack of the cat o'nine. The mast was broken, and the top of it was in the dark water. The entire ship and all her crew were ethereal. Some of the townsfolk went for their weapons. Others dropped to the ground in prayer to the Virtues. Yet others cowered in complete and utter fear of their impending fates.

Just as quickly and quietly as the ghost ship had appeared, it soon vanished into thin air. It left behind naught a trace that it had ever existed. The one handed sailor sighed. The townsfolk soon calmed and they all returned to the square where they began discussing the event. It was clear, that a ship and crew had appeared there. Where it went, and would it return? No one seemed to know. That is, no one but the old sailor.

“Aye… One hundred years. They will return. Mark my words. This town is cursed. Forever will it deal with the dead! Misfortune, bad luck, and death hang over it now.”

So it was, the town of Sand Vale was no more a simple village on the sea. It became a place of misfortune. Bad luck befell all of the citizens. Death took them sooner than it ought to have, and every hundred years… The dead returned to continue the curse…

Dead Men Tell No Tales

The dark cloaked the cemetery nicely. The old To’resk gravekeeper, Sajoaçar, liked it this way. The port town was a rough place, and he didn’t like to stand out. He managed the cemetery, and his carpenter’s shop, and that was it. It turned out that most of his work was related to two things: Boat repairs, and coffins. This naturally lead to him becoming the keeper of the Bastards Bay cemetery. Sajoaçar was sitting on the back porch of the shop, looking out over the graves. He thought it was ironically funny that the cemetery started behind the ruins of an old church, but quickly grew and expanded to end up right in his backyard. It wasn’t like the ruffians of the town cared about any churches though, so no one really cared. It also made it easier for Sajoaçar to bury the bodies of those who ran afoul of the pirates in the town.

As he sat there, smoking an old pipe, he noticed a dim light in the far distance. The cemetery itself was rather large, and housed more bodies than the town itself. So he quietly watched. The light grew bigger, and seemed to have stopped at a particular grave. Sajoaçar squinted his eyes and peered at the light. It was a lantern. He got up and slowly walked over to the rows of gravestones, and quietly maneuvered between them to get a better look. He grumbled quietly to himself, thinking some street urchins were trying to camp out in his cemetery. He was going to tell them to scram. He eventually came upon the light, and like a phantom, stayed just out of sight.

What Sajoaçar saw was quite interesting. A pirate with a shovel, was digging the grave up! Sajoaçar grew red with anger, but seeing the cutlass on the brigand’s belt, he stayed quiet for now. Grave Robbers in his cemetery! How crude, he fumed. He would go to Mayor Adiranovic Von Hagemeister and complain in the morning. For now, he just watched.

The Pirate, who Sajoaçar did not know, was busy digging furiously. It was as if there was treasure in that very grave! The old Gravekeeper knew there wasn’t anything of value in any of these graves. Pirates never left valuables on the dead! He continued to watch. The To’resk Pirate hit the coffin with a loud thud. He tossed the shovel over his shoulder and awkwardly began using his hands to scoop out the loose dirt. He then, having cleared the dirt off the top, used the shovel to smash open a hole in the coffin. The Pirate stood up, and removed his hat to wipe some sweat off his brow. He then leaned down and pulled out a sea chest! Sajoaçar was stunned. There was treasure in that grave! Or so he thought. Why else would the Pirate be here, digging up an old grave? The Pirate grinned and tucked the chest under his arm. He grabbed his shovel, put his hat back on, and hurried off. Once the Pirate was gone, Sajoaçar moved to the grave, and read the stone.It belonged to Joris Mullica, or Whaleback, as he was known in life. Mullica had died defending Bastards Bay, then called Gull’s Rest, from the invading army of the Mad King, many many years ago. Sajoaçar recalled an old tale he heard in the tavern once. It was said that old Whaleback had, in the course of his journeys, found a map to long lost treasure. A map to an unknown island, with so much treasure no ship could return with all of it. Of course, such tales are regarded as fake when told by old sea salts with to much rum in their blood. No one had ever given it thought. Besides, Whaleback’s grave was dug up by the town years ago, and nothing was found inside. What changed? Sajoaçar couldn’t say. He had never believed the tales in the tavern.

Sajoaçar went back to his shop, and headed upstairs for the night. Morning came, and as he promised, he went to the Mayor to complain. Mayor Adiranovic Von Hagemeister was in his office, inside the manor. The manor was the only nice building in the entire shanty town. He described the scene of last night’s events to the Mayor. Von Hagemeister furrowed his brow for a moment. He grumbled something under his breath. He then looked at Sajoaçar and told him he would send some menn over to help repair the grave, and not to worry about it further. Sajoaçar sighed, shrugged his shoulders, thanked the Mayor for his time, and headed back to his house.

Adrianovic scowled as Sajoaçar left. He wasn’t mad at the old Gravekeeper. He was mad at the Pirate who wasn’t stealthy enough to conceal his activities from the old To’resk. He left his office in a huff, and charged down to the docks. Seabirds cried as they fluttered overhead. The sun was rising higher in the sky, as mid morning took over from dawn. The wind was still, and the air was hot. Adrianovic stomped on the docks, and stopped in front of a Cutter. It was an old ship, with some splintered wood on her deck, and patchy dark sails. The name on the bow read “Belligerent Bivalve”. Adrianovic scoffed, then, boarded the ship. Onboard a few sailors were milling about. A large Janoa was high in the rigging, patching a fresh hole in the sail. He brushed past a Kypiq that was swabbing the deck, and went right up to the wheel, where a To’resk in fancy, yet weathered, attire was standing. He was holding a map up to the sky, and squinting. Adrianovic grabbed the To’resk Captain by the collar and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. The To’resk Captain looked at Adrianovic for a moment, blank faced. Then, with a wily smile, he showed him the map.

Adrianovic looked the map over. His jaw dropped for a split second before he regained his composure. He clapped the To’resk Captain on the back, nodded at him, then disembarked the ship.

“Right boys, hop to! We’re shovin’ off by noon!” The Captain shouted. He looked at the map again. It wasn’t a map in the traditional sense. It did not have features found on land, nor islands, nor shorelines. It was a jumbled mess of lines and shapes. The Captain smiled though. He knew how to read it.

“Captain, did we retrieve the item?” A Neran asked. He was the First Mate, and privy to the knowledge which was kept secret from most of the crew.

“Indeed, Chickle. We did. Have a look.” The Captain showed the map to Chickle. Chickle gasped.

“Sir! The curse! Whaleback’s Curse! Did you do the proper ritual!?” He squeaked, quite distraught.

“I did some sort of ritual. I mean, I got the map didn’t I?” The Captain smiled, although Chickle did not look convinced.

“Sir, if you left out any small part, the map will still appear, but so will the curse! The Dras Shaman was explicit in his instructions! I hope for all our sakes you did it right.” Chickle said, as he walked away from the Captain. The Captain raised a brow and went through his memory. Did he do it right? Now that Chickle mentioned it, he could recall!

“I’m sure it's fine.” He mused, as he rolled the map up, and tucked it into his coat. The ship set sail, and the journey was underway! The Captain couldn’t stop thinking about the grave of Joris “Whaleback” Mullica though. The voyage wasn’t across the deep ocean, and no one expected there to be any problems. The “Belligerent Bivalve” sailed smoothly through the afternoon. Over the horizon, dark clouds were gathering though…

The menn that the Mayor promised to send help Sajoaçar never showed up. The old Gravekeeper was out there, fixing the broken coffin, and refilling the grave with dirt. It was back breaking work. Sajoaçar sighed, as he stopped for a breath. The gravestone looked odd. It was as if it were reflecting the sun’s light, but there was a storm out at sea, obscuring the sun from view. Sajoaçar shrugged, and thought there must be an explanation for it. He continued his work and was finished well after dark. The gravestone never stopped gleaming the entire time. Sajoaçar didn’t care. He finished the work, and went inside for some well deserved rest.

The next morning, Sajoaçar was at the docks, repairing a boat when he overheard some news. A ship named the Belligerent Bivalve was sunk overnight during the squall. Apparently, no one survived. The ship hit the rocks just off the Lighthouse, and the Keeper witnessed the entire thing. Sajoaçar wondered if the Pirate who had stolen the chest was on that ship. He recalled how the gravestone glimmered in the dark. Huffing, he brushed the thoughts aside, and continued his work. It wasn’t any of his business, and he didn’t want any curses, bad luck, or other superstitious stuff happening to him! He, after all, kept the graveyard!

The dark cloaked the cemetery nicely. The old To’resk gravekeeper, Sajoaçar, liked it this way. The port town was a rough place, and he didn’t like to stand out. He managed the cemetery, and his carpenter’s shop, and that was it. It turned out that most of his work was related to two things: Boat repairs, and coffins. This naturally lead to him becoming the keeper of the Bastards Bay cemetery. Sajoaçar was sitting on the back porch of the shop, looking out over the graves. He thought it was ironically funny that the cemetery started behind the ruins of an old church, but quickly grew and expanded to end up right in his backyard. It wasn’t like the ruffians of the town cared about any churches though, so no one really cared. It also made it easier for Sajoaçar to bury the bodies of those who ran afoul of the pirates in the town.

As he sat there, smoking an old pipe, he noticed a dim light in the far distance. The cemetery itself was rather large, and housed more bodies than the town itself. So he quietly watched. The light grew bigger, and seemed to have stopped at a particular grave. Sajoaçar squinted his eyes and peered at the light. It was a lantern. He got up and slowly walked over to the rows of gravestones, and quietly maneuvered between them to get a better look. He grumbled quietly to himself, thinking some street urchins were trying to camp out in his cemetery. He was going to tell them to scram. He eventually came upon the light, and like a phantom, stayed just out of sight.

What Sajoaçar saw was quite interesting. A pirate with a shovel, was digging the grave up! Sajoaçar grew red with anger, but seeing the cutlass on the brigand’s belt, he stayed quiet for now. Grave Robbers in his cemetery! How crude, he fumed. He would go to Mayor Adiranovic Von Hagemeister and complain in the morning. For now, he just watched.

The Pirate, who Sajoaçar did not know, was busy digging furiously. It was as if there was treasure in that very grave! The old Gravekeeper knew there wasn’t anything of value in any of these graves. Pirates never left valuables on the dead! He continued to watch. The To’resk Pirate hit the coffin with a loud thud. He tossed the shovel over his shoulder and awkwardly began using his hands to scoop out the loose dirt. He then, having cleared the dirt off the top, used the shovel to smash open a hole in the coffin. The Pirate stood up, and removed his hat to wipe some sweat off his brow. He then leaned down and pulled out a sea chest! Sajoaçar was stunned. There was treasure in that grave! Or so he thought. Why else would the Pirate be here, digging up an old grave? The Pirate grinned and tucked the chest under his arm. He grabbed his shovel, put his hat back on, and hurried off. Once the Pirate was gone, Sajoaçar moved to the grave, and read the stone.It belonged to Joris Mullica, or Whaleback, as he was known in life. Mullica had died defending Bastards Bay, then called Gull’s Rest, from the invading army of the Mad King, many many years ago. Sajoaçar recalled an old tale he heard in the tavern once. It was said that old Whaleback had, in the course of his journeys, found a map to long lost treasure. A map to an unknown island, with so much treasure no ship could return with all of it. Of course, such tales are regarded as fake when told by old sea salts with to much rum in their blood. No one had ever given it thought. Besides, Whaleback’s grave was dug up by the town years ago, and nothing was found inside. What changed? Sajoaçar couldn’t say. He had never believed the tales in the tavern.

Sajoaçar went back to his shop, and headed upstairs for the night. Morning came, and as he promised, he went to the Mayor to complain. Mayor Adiranovic Von Hagemeister was in his office, inside the manor. The manor was the only nice building in the entire shanty town. He described the scene of last night’s events to the Mayor. Von Hagemeister furrowed his brow for a moment. He grumbled something under his breath. He then looked at Sajoaçar and told him he would send some menn over to help repair the grave, and not to worry about it further. Sajoaçar sighed, shrugged his shoulders, thanked the Mayor for his time, and headed back to his house.

Adrianovic scowled as Sajoaçar left. He wasn’t mad at the old Gravekeeper. He was mad at the Pirate who wasn’t stealthy enough to conceal his activities from the old To’resk. He left his office in a huff, and charged down to the docks. Seabirds cried as they fluttered overhead. The sun was rising higher in the sky, as mid morning took over from dawn. The wind was still, and the air was hot. Adrianovic stomped on the docks, and stopped in front of a Cutter. It was an old ship, with some splintered wood on her deck, and patchy dark sails. The name on the bow read “Belligerent Bivalve”. Adrianovic scoffed, then, boarded the ship. Onboard a few sailors were milling about. A large Janoa was high in the rigging, patching a fresh hole in the sail. He brushed past a Kypiq that was swabbing the deck, and went right up to the wheel, where a To’resk in fancy, yet weathered, attire was standing. He was holding a map up to the sky, and squinting. Adrianovic grabbed the To’resk Captain by the collar and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. The To’resk Captain looked at Adrianovic for a moment, blank faced. Then, with a wily smile, he showed him the map.

Adrianovic looked the map over. His jaw dropped for a split second before he regained his composure. He clapped the To’resk Captain on the back, nodded at him, then disembarked the ship.

“Right boys, hop to! We’re shovin’ off by noon!” The Captain shouted. He looked at the map again. It wasn’t a map in the traditional sense. It did not have features found on land, nor islands, nor shorelines. It was a jumbled mess of lines and shapes. The Captain smiled though. He knew how to read it.

“Captain, did we retrieve the item?” A Neran asked. He was the First Mate, and privy to the knowledge which was kept secret from most of the crew.

“Indeed, Chickle. We did. Have a look.” The Captain showed the map to Chickle. Chickle gasped.

“Sir! The curse! Whaleback’s Curse! Did you do the proper ritual!?” He squeaked, quite distraught.

“I did some sort of ritual. I mean, I got the map didn’t I?” The Captain smiled, although Chickle did not look convinced.

“Sir, if you left out any small part, the map will still appear, but so will the curse! The Dras Shaman was explicit in his instructions! I hope for all our sakes you did it right.” Chickle said, as he walked away from the Captain. The Captain raised a brow and went through his memory. Did he do it right? Now that Chickle mentioned it, he could recall!

“I’m sure it's fine.” He mused, as he rolled the map up, and tucked it into his coat. The ship set sail, and the journey was underway! The Captain couldn’t stop thinking about the grave of Joris “Whaleback” Mullica though. The voyage wasn’t across the deep ocean, and no one expected there to be any problems. The “Belligerent Bivalve” sailed smoothly through the afternoon. Over the horizon, dark clouds were gathering though…

The menn that the Mayor promised to send help Sajoaçar never showed up. The old Gravekeeper was out there, fixing the broken coffin, and refilling the grave with dirt. It was back breaking work. Sajoaçar sighed, as he stopped for a breath. The gravestone looked odd. It was as if it were reflecting the sun’s light, but there was a storm out at sea, obscuring the sun from view. Sajoaçar shrugged, and thought there must be an explanation for it. He continued his work and was finished well after dark. The gravestone never stopped gleaming the entire time. Sajoaçar didn’t care. He finished the work, and went inside for some well deserved rest.

The next morning, Sajoaçar was at the docks, repairing a boat when he overheard some news. A ship named the Belligerent Bivalve was sunk overnight during the squall. Apparently, no one survived. The ship hit the rocks just off the Lighthouse, and the Keeper witnessed the entire thing. Sajoaçar wondered if the Pirate who had stolen the chest was on that ship. He recalled how the gravestone glimmered in the dark. Huffing, he brushed the thoughts aside, and continued his work. It wasn’t any of his business, and he didn’t want any curses, bad luck, or other superstitious stuff happening to him! He, after all, kept the graveyard!

The Legend of the Deep One: The Tale of Sir Stumps, and his Misfortune!

Sir Stumps was a Knight in the Neran Virtori Order of holy knights. He was sent to the port town of Bastards Bay to investigate rumors of a dark presence, and report back his findings. People were apparently washing up on the shores, dead. Bastards Bay wasn’t a well known town, and those who did know of it knew it was a place where civilized people stayed clear. Sir Stumps was not pleased to be tasked with going to such a dirty little port town. He had plans for greater things! He wanted riches and glory! However, he would have to resign himself to his current paltry task of basic detective work. He didn’t personally believe anything evil was afoot.

It wasn’t long before he arrived in Bastards Bay. It was a disgusting town. Drunkards lined the main street. The first building Sir Stumps passed was clearly a brothel. It was a place of Vices only. An evil place. He started to believe the Council was right to send him here. He nipped into the nearest pub and had a seat at the bar. He declined a drink, and sat to listen. He heard all kinds of tales of horror! This town was a cesspit! Tales of pirates, sharks, and woolly whales sinking boats! Blasphemy! Not a single word of Virtue was spoken! He felt he was among savages. Just when he thought he could take no more, he heard something of interest.

“Did ya hear that old Jenkins was killed the other day. Poor sod was found washed up on the beach, with his chest crushed in, just like the rest. Must’ve been one hell of a fish to do some damage like that!”

That was it. The evil hanging over this town was a fish monster in the bay! That would explain the washed up deaths. He decided to interrogate the man. After some terse questioning, the man told Sir Stumps that for many months a terrible beast had been plaguing the town, and eating fishermen in the bay. Sometimes these fishermen would wash up with crushed chests, as if exposed to great pressure. Fishing was their main income, so this beastie was hurting the town’s already weak economy. Sir Stumps thanked the savage, and left the pub in search of a boat. He was going to save this town by slaying the monster, and then bringing them the holy word of the Virtues!

Sir Stumps clunked down the street in his metal knight armor. He made his way to the dock, and looked for the nearest fishermen. He hailed one of the rugged looking sailors, and asked him if he’d take him out on the bay to look for the monster. The man rejected, but after Sir Stumps offered some money, allowed the knight to take his small lugger. With a boat, Sir Stumps then set about gathering gear to fight the monster. He went to the general store, which happened to be on the dock. He bought a length of rope, a hook, and some other miscellaneous gear to fish for the monster. His last purchase was a hunk of Trison meat that was just about to expire. He tossed the gear into the boat, and started sailing out into the bay.

It was getting late in the day, and the sun hung low over the horizon. Sir Stumps set up his makeshift monster fishing tackle, and cast the large chunk of Trison meat out into the briny waters. Many hours passed, and nothing happened. Sir Stumps was determined though. He persisted, checking his line to make sure the meat hadn’t fallen off. It was nighttime now, and the full moon rose high in the sky. Everything was still. No wind blew, and the strong smell of fish and saltwater hung in the air. A thin sea fog rolled in off the ocean, and covered the bay. Sir Stumps shivered the cool night air off. Salt had begun to crust on his armor, and so he removed the upper portions of his gear to wrap them in cloth. As he removed the armor, the makeshift monster fishing pole twitched! He yanked the rope, and the rope yanked back. He had hooked something! He grabbed the rope, still wearing his gauntlets, and started to haul the beast aboard! In his excitement, he did not notice the rope wrapping around his feet! Suddenly, the rope yanked out of his hands, and began to spool off into the bay! Sir Stumps tried to grab on, but his foot was wrapped up in rope, and he went over the edge!

With a splash he was in the bay, being pulled down into the depths. He held his breath, still determined to free himself! As he was pulled farther and farther into the inky depths, he began to despair! He could not reach the small knife in his boot! Just as he was about to give up, and release his breath to return to the Virtues, he saw a glowing light! He held his breath longer, starting to see stars. The pressure was starting to crush him. As he drew nearer the light, he made out a horrible figure! A withered and feral looking mermaid was floating near a glowing orb! The light cast by the orb faded rapidly in the dark depths, and hid the monstrous fish pulling Sir Stumps!

The Sea Witch pulled Sir Stumps close, and kissed him! Her cold fish lips encapsulated his, and he could breath! With a heavy sigh, Sir Stumps reached down and got his small boot knife! He brandished it wildly at the Sea Witch! She scoffed at him, and pointed to the orb. He didn’t understand.

“You are cursed to defend this, the Orb of the Deep for eternity! You are now the Deep One!. You must fill the Orb of the Deep with souls of those from the surface, and you may never set foot on dry land again!” And with that the Sea Witch cackled a horrible cackle. Sir Stumps wailed a lament! He had not only failed to save the town, but he had fallen into evil! He tried to swim to the surface! He found swimming was easier, and soon was at the surface. His head broke through the water, and he was horrified! He couldn’t breath! The air would not fill his lungs! He gasped and clawed at his throat, before he fell back under the water and breathed heavily. He knew it. He really was cursed. Anger flowed through his veins. Those wretched townsfolk! They did this to him! It’s their fault! If they didn’t attract the Sea Witch, he wouldn’t have been sent and subsequently cursed!

He swam back down to the glowing orb, grumbling his plots for revenge on the town. He tried to look for the Sea Witch, but she was nowhere to be found. He was quite angry, and vowed to get his revenge on both the Witch, and the town!

So it is said on the docks of Bastards Bay, that one moonless nights, when the fog rolls in off the sea, and the bay is silent and still, the Deep One rises from the depths with his evil fish monster, and grabs hapless fishermen and drags them to their doom!

The Sedecim

The fire the night before had ravaged the old warehouse on pier 11. Rumors were flying all over the Sedecim. Everything from a lazy smoker, to a Tolenite conspiracy could be heard on the lips of the attendees of the grand event. Many of the farmers who had brought their prized livestock to Wavemeet Bay were relieved when news broke that the contents of the warehouse were intact, and none of the feed was burned. Things were returning back to normal the morning after the fire. Preparations continued for the many festivities of the Sedecim. Caravans were arriving, loaded down with items for sale, and supplies for the various merchants to set up temporary stalls. The whole place was awash in activity. People of all tribes were bustling around, and languages from all over Elyria could be heard on the streets.

The docks were full of busy people unloading supplies from their boats.Everyone seemed to be hard at work, except for one To’resk. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking out over the water of the bay. The Crystal Palace was shining beautifully in the mid morning light. A cutlass hung from his hip, and he was clad in worn sailor’s clothing, with a waist long overcoat, hanging open. A tricorne hat sat atop a bandana covering his long dreadlocked hair. He looked like a street urchin, ruffian, or beggar, if not for the weapon hung from his hip, and the heroic stance he took as he watched barges and boats in the bay. Some purple and yellow petals blew past him in a stiff breeze off the water. The flowers were everywhere, and he quite liked the splash of color they added to the festival.

He turned from the water, and walked past the burnt husk of Warehouse 17. He had wandered over with the morning crowd to investigate what had happened, but lost interest when the contents of the warehouse were revealed to be animal feed and supplies. A sailor such as himself had little need for landsmenn’s items. He listened to the rumors that floated through the crowd, as the Festival Guards conducted an investigation. There were many people standing around, and everyone was gossiping. A Janoa had apparently knocked over a lantern. That was his hypothesis after hearing the many theories.

“Ahoy,No’ika!” a call came from across the pier in Lazu. A Dras then rushed up to the To’resk sailor, and clapped him on the back.

“Ahoy there, Slok.” No’ika spoke great Lazu. Slok was a tall Dras, dressed in black leather clothing, and a wide brim straw hat, which hid is pallid skin from the sun. He too, wore a Cutlass. Slok was a friend, and the two had sailed here to Wavemeet Bay together on a small boat from down south. The two set off down the pier, discussing the night’s events. Slok was convinced of the Tolenite Conspiracies, and No’ika entertained his ideas. They were an odd pair, to be sure. As they meandered their way through the busy streets, their conversation soon turned to that of their business.

“You’re sure you heard right? It’s here in Wavemeet Bay?” Slok asked. His eyes were deep violet, and his expression was lacking confidence.

“Aye, its here. Don’t believe me?” asked No’ika in return. He looked the complete opposite. His fierce dark eyes were a light with confidence!

“Well, you’ve been wrong before.” Slok replied.

“I ain’t wrong this time!” No’ika chuckled at the Dras. As they continued further into the labyrinth of merchants’ tents, they garnered strange looks. The two looked raggedity, and some of the merchants gave them nasty looks. It didn’t help that the were speaking Lazu the whole time. The pair wandered through the maze for a while longer, before stopping at a particular tent. It was closed, and it appeared as if the merchant had set up early and was just waiting for the Sedecim to start. A sign on the tent read “Mæhrtìr’s Curiosities”. There wasn’t any movement from inside. No’ika and Slok stood outside conversing and casually keeping an eye on the tent. When a Sedecim Guard walked by, they quickly moved on.

“That looks promising.” Slok casually remarked as they passed the Guard. When the Guard was out of sight, they circled back around.

“Walk casual Slok, you look like you’re casing the place.” No’ika said. Slok slumped and tried to look inconspicuous, but he just looked worse. “Okay okay, just walk naturally, sheesh!” No’ika scolded the Dras.

“This feels strange on land.” Slok said. No’ika was moving between Mæhrtìr’s tent, and the one next to it.

“Just stand there and block the view. You know what to do if the guard comes ‘round again.” No’ika then proceeded to crouch down and lift the tent. It wouldn’t lift high enough for him to put his head under and he sighed. He pulled a small knife from his jacket, and cut two eye holes at his head’s level. Slok looked back at the sound, and shook his head in dismay. “Eye holes…” He thought with a sigh. Inside, No’ika could see a bunch of boxes. He smiled as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a small sea chest. It wasn’t the most beautiful or ornate thing in the tent, but the To’resk smiled slyly anyway. He stood up, and brushed his dirty clothes off. He then casually walked up next to Slok, and the two walked off.

They made their way over to the docks, and into a tavern. Outside, the sign hung limply in the still afternoon air. It read “The Fish Eye Inn”. Slok and No’ika sat down and began speaking. The din of the crowd inside the pub was perfect for concealing their conversation.

“Was it there?” Slok asked.

“As I said, it’s here. I saw it. That means, tonight, we take it.” No’ika was smiling, and his sharp teeth creeped Slok out. Slok had always found To’resk teeth to be strange and almost unnatural. He shrugged his shoulders and nodded at No’ika

“What’s the plan then?” Slok was trying not to look at No’ika until he stopped smiling.

“What’s wrong? Got something in me teeth?” No’ika jabbed a finger into his mouth and began picking around his teeth.

“No no, just get on with it and stop picking your teeth!” Slok shuddered.

“Alright, well the plan is this. Tonight the crowds will be gone, and the two of us will look right out of place hanging around the merchant tents. So we’re going to get us some Guard’s uniforms, and walk right up to the tent, cut a hole where I did earlier, and take the chest. No one will be the wiser.” No’ika seemed to know what he was doing, so Slok nodded in agreement.

“Where are we going to get Guard Uniforms?” Slok stopped nodding, realizing they didn’t already have the most crucial part of No’ika’s plan.

“That, my friend, is already taken care of, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy..” No’ika slapped two small notes on the table. “Let me just say, there are two guards that won’t be showing up for duty on time, or in the proper uniform…” He and Slok chuckled. The two of them finished off a round of drinks and headed out. They made their way to the tailor.

The Neran Tailor looked up as two vagrants entered her shop. She frowned, but got up to greet them. No’ika shrugged at her, and handed her the notes. The Neran woman eyed the pair suspiciously for a moment.

“You and the Dras are guards?” She asked in Neran. Clearly, she had her doubts.

“Aye! We are. Just came in from down south. Me friend here, he doesn’t speak Neran.” No’ika said. The seamstress peered at the pair for a moment longer before getting her tape, and measuring first No’ika, and then Slok. She then disappeared behind a stack of fabrics, and was out of sight for a time. Slok shot No’ika a worried glance. As time went on, he looked even more nervous. Finally, the seamstress returned with two navy blue uniforms, and gave one to each of them.

“My, he’s looking rather sweaty. Is everything alright with him?” She asked, looking at Slok.

“He’s just nervous for his first day on duty! That’s all!” No’ika replied, with a sharp toothed smile. His demeanor put the Neran in a more relaxed state. She sighed at the two and stood expecting them to change in the nearby fitting room.

“Something the matter?” The Neran asked as No’ika and Slok stood by idly.

“Uh, no! Not at all!” No’ika quipped up, realizing, and he gave Slok a nudge toward the room. Slok looked at No’ika, then went into the dressing room, and was soon dressed as a Guard. He held his old clothes in one hand, and his cutlass in the other. No’ika was soon likewise attired, and the pair took their belongings, and exited the shop.

“Great… I didn’t expect her to make us change right in there… Now we’re looking like guards, and people may expect us to do guardly things!” No’ika complained to Slok as they ducked in and out of alley ways, trying not to be seen in the main streets. As they dipped in and out, they heard some scuffling and a muted scream from the alley they were just about to duck into. They rounded the corner to see a Brudvir with a Kypiq on her shoulders, hands clasped around her mouth, a Kypiq down behind her with a sharp dagger sticking into the back of her knee, and a third Kypiq with a longsword poking her in the gut. They were silent, and their faces were masked with a strange visage No’ika never saw before. Clearly, they were mugging this poor Brudvir womann. No’ika and Slok did not really stop to think about it, and just reacted.

With raised cutlasses, the two charged the three Kypiq! There was nothing stealthy about it! The sight of two guards rushing them caused the Kypiq to flee in a hurry! The three Kypiq deftly leapt from the scene, and escaped by climbing the nearby buildings and dispersed. The Brudvir womann looked at No’ika and Slok with grateful eyes! She started speaking in Denhørt, and No’ika raised a hand.

“I’m not so good with cold language.” He said in very broken Denhørt. The womann looked at him, and just shrugged before patting him and Slok on the back and running from the alley way.

“What was that about” Slok pondered allowed.

“Who knows. Some kind of mugging, but those masks. Must’ve been some organized group.” No’ika said as he sheathed his cutlass and the two turned to venture further into the alley.

“Tolenites!” Slok said. He was sure that had something to do with the warehouse burning the previous night. He told No’ika all about it as they carefully made their way to a rather desolate part of town, with a side stop at the docks, to put their belongings in their tiny boat. They sat down on some crates behind an old building, and discussed the events of the mugging. The evening was upon them, and it was getting dark. The streets were clearing out, as people were heading indoors to rest up for the beginning of the Sedecim. Most of the merchants were set up, and many of the performers were prepared for the coming event. It was very peaceful, and the sounds of busy hustle and bustle were no longer dominant in the still evening air. As Slok and No’ika sat quietly in the dark alley, the noticed a tall cloaked figure drift by, silently, like a specter! Slok nudged No’ika and the two froze as still as statues. They watched, from the darkness, as the cloaked figure whisked right by them! They let a sigh of relief escape as the figure turned the corner and disappeared. They got up, and headed for their target, hoping not to run into anyone else.

The remainder of their trip was uneventful. Mæhrtìr’s Curiosities was still closed, and there was no sign of life from inside, or around the tent. They walked up and down the narrow walkway, acting like guards on patrol while they cased the tent. When they were sure no one was around, No’ika went into the small area between the tents, and Slok stood in front, standing guard and blocking the view. A building behind the tent concealed No’ika from the otherside. No’ika then produced his small knife, and cut a thin slit, right between the eye holes he had cut earlier in the day. He parted the cloth, and entered the tent.

The inside of the tent was dark, but the oil lanterns from outside cast just enough light through the slit that No’ika could see. There were some stands with oddities from across Elyria on them. Jewels, strange bones, gems and stones were scattered across the display cases. Strange chimes and ornate decorations dangled from the tent’s ceiling. He honed in on the sea chest, and grabbed it. On his way out, he also took a few pieces of jewelry on a display stand. He exited the tent, and held the chest up for Slok to see. Slok’s eyes lit up!

“Great, now let’s get out of here!” he whispered. The two then scurried away quickly, half hiding the chest between the two of them. They snuck their way down to the docks, and made it safely to their boat. It was rather easy, as the streets were nearly desolate. The odd guard was posted, but they were mostly on the main streets. Once in their boat, they got out of their guard uniforms and donned their regular clothes. They tossed the uniforms over into the water, and the two grinned at each other. The chest was theirs!

“Should we open it?” Slok asked, looking at No’ika with an eager grin.

“Let’s get out into the water first, I don’t want to be caught on the docks with it!” No’ika replied. As they shoved their tiny boat off, some guards came rushing down the pier toward the docks. Someone must’ve spotted them stealing the chest! No’ika grabbed the tiller, as Slok started unfurling the tiny sail! Slok looked back at the approaching guards and realized, they were, in fact, not guards!

“No’ika, look!” Slok said as he pointed toward the approaching group. No’ika glanced up from the tiller, and gasped. There was a small group of cloaked and masked people rushing down the pier. They were just about to the docks. No’ika and Slok were well away from the wooden pier now though, that none of the people could touch them. An arrow whizzed by and sliced into the water near their boat!

“I think you may be right Slok, these guys are Tolenites and they want our chest!” No’ika said as he started to turn the tiller into the open water. Slok was trimming the sails, and keeping the wind full in the sheets. They were experienced sailors, and they made it safely into the channel.

“How’d they know about the chest?” Slok asked, as the group of Tolenites started running toward a boat to give chase.

“Maybe they don’t know about the chest, but they remember us driving off their Kypiq muggers!” No’ika replied, recalling their earlier run in. Now the group was in a boat bigger than theirs, and shoving off from the pier. No’ika and Slok looked at each other with widened eyes.

“They’re pursuing us into the harbor!” Slok said.

“Just keep the wind in the sheets Slok, don’t let up! We’ve got a head start!” No’ika said. The small boat was picking up speed as the wind grew stronger on the open water. They were heading for the sea, where they hoped to lose the pursuers in the dark of the ocean. Wavemeet Bay was growing smaller, but the pursuing ship wasn’t! No’ika couldn’t imagine what these people wanted. There was no way they knew about the chest. Was there? No’ika still thought they wanted revenge for the failed mugging of the Brudvir womann.

“No’ika, the ship is gaining on us. She’ll be upon us if we don’t do something fast!” Slok yelled over the sound of the waves crashing into the bow. The chop of the water was getting bigger, and their small boat lost some speed to the collisions.

“Slok, ease up on the main, and trim to Portside!” No’ika shouted, as he turned the tiller to the angle the boat south. The wind would now be coming from their Starboard side, and the boat would be traveling south along the coast. No’ika hoped this would counteract the wave action, and increase the boats speed. He was right! The little boat began chugging along through the water at a slightly faster pace. It wasn’t enough to outpace the larger vessel though, and it continued to gain on them. No’ika and Slok looked at each other with exasperated looks.

“Time to row!” Slok said as he tossed No’ika an Oar. The two then began rowing, with breaks to adjust the tiller or keep the wind in the sails. It wasn’t difficult for the two experienced sailors. The bigger boat kept up though, and soon it was a cable away!

“Slok, we gotta do something!” No’ika and Slok were both frantically rowing, adjusting the tiller, and fixing the sails. They were desperate to escape the suspected Tolenite pursuers!

“Lets drop some weight!” Slok said as he cut the rope to the anchor and hucked it overboard. No’ika nodded, and he began tossing small boxes of supplies over. It was just enough weight to give them a little more speed! They began pulling away from the pursuing vessel! Combined with their continued rowing, and expert work on the sails, they soon pulled ahead! Wavemeet bay was now just a sparkling dot behind them. The Tolenite vessel was growing smaller, and No’ika and Slok sighed in relief.

“I think we’re going to make it, Slok.” No’ika said as he continued to row. Soon, they had lost the Tolenites, and were safely concealed in the dark. They moved their boat closer to the shore to shelter from the bigger waves, and stopped rowing. Slok halved the sail, and the two sat for a moment, catching their breath. No’ika lit a small oil lantern they had kept, and they both looked at the chest. It was locked, but that wouldn’t stop them from opening it. Slok grabbed the chest and sat it on his knees. He pulled out two thin sharp metal tools, and picked the lock with ease. Clearly, this wasn’t his first lock picking. The lid opened, and a soft blue glow emanated from within, as the lantern’s light reflected off the contents. No’ika and Slok peered inside the Sea Chest. There, sat the prize they had been after. An Illuminated Hrothi scroll. No’ika picked it up, and held it out. Slok gazed at it in amazement.

“What’s it say No’ika?” Slok asked eagerly awaiting. He had never actually seen an illuminated manuscript before. It was quite beautiful.

“Let’s see.” No’ika unrolled the scroll, and looked it over. He frowned as he attempted to read it.

“Well?” Inquired Slok.

“What I can make of it, it’s certainly what we wanted, but I can’t read all of it. Its written in Denhørt. Looks like we’ll need to find someone to read it for us.” No’ika frowned and rolled it back up. He replaced it inside the chest and Slok closed it. The sea chest was then stored forward the mast under the small seat in the bow of the boat.

The scroll was certainly a prize. They were both very glad their hard work had paid off, and that the Tolenites didn’t catch them. Still, they didn’t know exactly what the Tolenites wanted with them. After all, they had been disguised as guards when they ran the muggers off. Were they being watched the entire time? Did the Tolenites really have eyes everywhere? No’ika thought they were just a story. Slok seemed to believe they were real. After this evening, both knew for a fact there was some sort of secret organization at the Sedecim. The masks, cloaks, and their seeming omniscient presence made that clear. They had also heard rumors of the warehouse fire that made much more sense now. Slok had even said that Lord Ardyn was somehow involved. They had only heard rumors of course, but they both knew Ardyn was a Noble, and if he were involved, no one would really be able to do much about it.

Did the Tolenites know who they were? It wasn’t likely. No’ika and Slok were not very famous in this part of Elyria. It’s possible their names could have made their way to Wavemeet Bay, but not their descriptions. Either way, they had made it out of the Sedecim Festival and had their prize. The two settled down for the night to rest and think about their next moves.

No’ika sat quietly thinking about their predicament. He did want to go back to the Sedecim, but it would be highly risky of course. He was always a curious type though. Perhaps next time. He turned his mind to the task of finding a translator. He would need someone they could trust of course. That made things difficult. Not many people he knew, and trusted, could speak the Northern language.

As day broke, Slok and No’ika set to work preparing for the next leg of their adventure. The Sedecim had brought them fortune and excitement, but what lay before them would promise even more. As they sailed away from Wavemeet Bay, and the large gathering of Diplomats, Merchants, Performers, and visitors, they couldn’t help but wonder what other adventures were unfolding for the various individuals attending the great event. They, of course, would never know. Perhaps those are stories for another time.

The Cursed Crew

Long ago, a Mydarri ship was sailing the high seas when the ship came upon a small lost island. The crew decided to check it out, and found on the island an old shack. Inside this shack lived a lost Mydarri woman. She was beautiful, and the Captain wanted to rescue her. The Mydarri woman accepted the kind offer, and went with the crew. Aboard the ship, they set her up in the Captain’s quarters. Once they set sail, a strong storm blew in, and the ship was tossed about on the waves. During the storm, the ship was hit by a large beast! The Kraken reached up over the deck, and grabbed sailors off of the ship! After a time, the Kraken wrapped several large tentacles around the ship, and dragged the whole thing under the sea! The crew was doomed.

As the ship and the remaining crew were dragged to the depths, the woman appeared on the deck. The crew was terrified, as they held their breath! The woman began to glow a bright white, and suddenly the sailors could breathe underwater! The woman told the crew that she was a powerful Sea Witch. She would save them from death if they agreed to repay her the debt. The crew eagerly agreed to do whatever she asked! They were then given immortality, at the cost of their Mannkind. They took on the appearance of half-Mann, half-fish. Some more Mann than fish, and others more fish than Mann. They could now survive underwater, as well as breathe air. The Sea Witch told them they could never return to land, but would live forever. They were instructed to collect the souls of those lost at sea, and bring them to her on the lost island. This was the debt they owed her.

The Sea Witch then spoke directly to the Captain. She explained to him the extent of their new abilities, as well as the restrictions. The crew could use magic now, to assist them in the harvesting of souls. She told him how to reach the Lost Island to unload the souls they collected. All he had to do was sail until he was completely lost, then turn for the suns, and sail for seven days. She also explained that he had the power to enlist new crew members, who had committed heinous crimes against the sea, in exchange for years of service aboard his ship for repentance.

The Sea Witch then vanished, and everything went black for the crew. When next they opened their eyes, they were back above water, on a new ship. The ship’s wood was jet black, and smooth as driftwood. The sails were a deep sea green. The ship’s forward figurehead was an ornately carved Kraken mantle. The ship flew no flag. The crew then turned their attention to themselves, horrified. They realized they were no longer Mann. They were hideous fish monsters! The Captain stood by the helm. He was a freakish monster. Fish scales covered him, and fins and spines lined his arms. His hands were webbed. His head remained normal, aside from the newly acquired scales. He had a burning desire to begin the work tasked to him, regardless of the horrifying change he and the crew had undergone. The crew also felt the same burning desire for their new task.

He instructed his crew to set sail, and was pleased with the speed the ship was able to reach! It was fast, and he knew he could outrun or catch any ship his heart desired! He felt the sea in his veins, felt the salt wind blowing his hair. He steered the ship toward the horizon, and toward the first souls lost at sea since he had been given his new destiny.

To this day, it is said that the Mydarri Sea Witch summoned the Kraken in order to trick the crew into accepting her offer of rescue. No one knows the truth, but if one were to encounter the Cursed Crew, it would be wise to sail as fast as you can in the opposite direction of the suns!

The Requiem of a Marooned Sailor.

Oceanus...It’s been fourteen years since they put me on this island. No ship, no crew, and no bottle of rum. Me clothes are torn, me boots are rotten, and me cutlass is rusty… Me bottle of rum is empty. I’ve got no one here but you to talk to. No ship, no crew, no bottle of rum. Me pipe is full of nothing but sand, and me bed is nothing but leaves. I’m stuck on this island with nothing to eat, but old coconuts, and dead fish. There’s not but one tree, and the sun is so hot. All around me naught but sand and mackerel bones. Stuck here with no ship, no crew, and no bottle of rum..

Now I tell ye me old salt, I wish I was there. There on yer High Seas with yer wind and yer waves. With me ship, me crew, and me bottle of rum. Oh Oceanus, if ye ever steer a ship here, with a crew and a bottle of rum, I promise I’ll ne’er go rovin’ no more! I’ll be meek as a lamb, and calm as a Dras… With me ship, me crew, and me bottle of rum. I’ll join the Navy, and help keep the seas safe! With me ship, me crew, and me bottle of rum! Ne’er no more, to dance with the Deep! I’ll hang up my cutlass and not harm the weak!

Oceanus, let me meet that treacherous first mate! Who took me ship, me crew, and me bottle of rum! Cause then with me cutlass I’ll chop off his limbs! Feed them to sharks, and smash in his face with me bottle of rum! I curse their bones for leaving me here, with no ship, no crew, and no bottle of rum. That deceitful crew who plunder and sail without me! I hope they’ll reach rope’s end there out at sea! Crush their ship, and drown their crew, and smash their bottle of rum! Let them get caught by Bordweall, and rot in a dungeon of woe!

To be stuck on this spit of land is such a curse! I should be sailing the seas once again! It’s been fourteen years and I’ve not seen one ship! No ships, or crews, or bottles of rum! My legs are landlocked, my spirit is chained. Stuck on this island is such a drain. Now I tell ye me old salt, I wish I was there! Out on the High Seas with yer wind and yer waves! With me ship, me crew, and me bottle of rum! Me clothes are torn, and me boots are rotten… Me mood is sour, and me hope is gone. I’ll be stuck on this island for the rest of me life. The crows will pick me scurvy bones.

The Island of Eternity.

Eons ago when the world was fresh, the seas were rife with danger. An island appeared, at the point of the ocean farthest from any land. Around this island were the deepest waters in Elyria. In the depths hid beasts as large as ships, which protected the virgin shores from interlopers of all kinds. For many long years the island stood, alone and braced against the will of Oceanus, never having animals or Mann set foot atop its fresh sands. Over time, trees and plants began to grow from seeds washed ashore. After the Burning and separation of the planes, the island remained, bathed in warm sunlight, and full of lush exotic plants and rare juicy fruits.

Today, many a sailor still pine to find the Island of Eternity. The To’resk say that if one were to locate this paradise, you would remain young forever. If you were to eat one of the juicy fruits, or drink of the pure waters, you would never age, never get sick, and of course, never die! Simply setting foot atop its golden sands would rejuvenate even the oldest and ugliest of hags. The Dras have similar tales of the Island of Eternity. There they say life is at perfect equilibrium, and all things are perfectly balanced. For every person who were to become immortal, another would lose their soul, thus maintaining the balance of life and death. Other tribes have taken these tales and adapted them to their own beliefs.

Tales of the Island of Eternity have motivated shipwrights and sailors across Elyria to embark on voyages and design bigger and better ships. They set sail on everything from leaky luggers to finely crafted cutters. Almost all of them fail to return home. Shipwrights are constantly refining their designs to ensure a ship can cross the vast deep ocean to make the journey into Oblivion, where they say you can find the lost island. The failure rate of these expeditions is so high, that most sailors think the voyages are cursed. Anyone planning to set sail to the Isle of Eternity is foolhardy, they say, and will never make it.

That of course, doesn’t stop those in search of immortality or cures to ailments that plague them. Even those in search of beauty look for the mysterious Island. Many an expedition was started to find the island to cure a terminally ill noble or ugliest of aristocracy. Of course, the Island of Eternity is a lost island, and has remained so since the dawn of time, so finding it is as unlikely as curing those poor sick nobles.

One brave expedition was set out by the late explorer Zekial Schellenger. He was a Neran Captain renowned for his maps of the coast of the Scattered Lands. His crew was skilled, and in the beginning of the 4th age, they set about from Port at the behest of the Count of The Arbor. They were aboard a Cutter named “Tidesong”. Bad luck soon befell the sailors aboard the good ship “Tidesong” however, as they ran aground some 200 Nautical Miles south of the port. The waters there were treacherous, and plagued by seamounts and small sandbars submerged just below the water. Captain Schellenger and his crew were forced to their row boats, and made way for land. Oceanus did not let them go quietly, however. Four months after setting sail for the Island of Eternity, Captain Zekial and his crew found themselves washed ashore on a foreign land. The people they encountered did not speak their language, and looked different than they did. Zekial and his men could not explain this, but the accounts they wrote about in their journals relayed their apprehension at the strange menn. Regardless of the language barrier, the new menn helped the sailors onto a small boat and sent them back toward the main. Eventually, Captain Schellenger and five of his menn returned to The Arbor. When they recounted their tales to the court of the Count, no one believed they had done anything more than flounder around at sea. The Count thought the Captain was ridden with scurvy or making up stories of strange lands to embellish his failed attempts at locating the lost island.

In the end, the Captain was shamed and he died in poverty. All sailors today consider the voyage to search for the Island a folly, and rife with nothing but bad luck. So be wary, brave sailor. For if you decide to search for fortune and glory among the lost island, you may find naught but the opposite.

The Sword of the Seas

Long ago when Elyria was young, Oceanus forbade his daughter Mydra from seeing her love Ne’ran, and her son, To’ran. She was crushed by her father’s decision, and longed to see her family. Oceanus was a great and powerful Qin though, and to challenge his wrath was certainly not a good idea. So, in secret, Mydra began construction of a new sword. This sword, she would use to slay her father’s beloved pet, and hopefully allow Ne’ran and To’ran access to the Sea. The Maw of Seas was a vicious sea monster that prevented anyone from entering the Sea without Oceanus’s consent!

The blade of this relic was crafted by Mydra’s power, with the sharpest and hardest coral in the seas. At the base of the blade sat a glowing red sea ruby. This was known as the Eye of the Sea. Its hilt was made of ocean emeralds, fused together. Inlaid the hilt were sapphires and inside the sapphires, Mydra’s very own tears. The Sword of the Seas was imbued with some of her power.

When the blade was complete, Mydra faced the giant beast. She stood fast against her father’s power incarnate. The Maw of the Seas opened its giant jaws filled with razor sharp teeth and tried to swallow Mydra! She thrust the Sword of the Sea deep into the beasts open gullet, and released her power! The Maw of the Seas exploded, scattering its bones across the Seas of Elyria. Mydra, weakened by the battle, decided that a weapon forged out of revenge should never be used again. She locked the Sword of the Seas away in a cave on an island, and then used her power to hide the island forever. Oceanus lost his pet, but he could not bring himself to punish his beloved daughter. He did not change his mind about Ne’ran though, and so he and To’ran still could not enter Mydra’s domain.

The Burning, and separation of the planes passed. The blade remained in the new Elyria, inside the cave Mydra hid it in. This sea cave was lost to time, and without the Qin, it seemed as though it would be forever hidden to the world. The legends say that the cave in which the Sword of the Seas resides is on a lost island. The island can only be found when one is lost at sea. It is said the Sword’s power has attracted horrible beasts of the sea, which guard the island to protect themselves from the wrath of the Sword. For centuries, the Sword of the Seas has rested in its tomb, waiting to be wielded against those who have wronged its wielder. Due to the treacherous waters surrounding this lost Island, many lost ships have wrecked upon its shores and on its shoals. These wrecks have added huge amounts of treasure and wealth to be found, should someone be able to locate the island, and survive long enough to pillage it.

According to myth, the Sword of the Seas possesses many powers. It cannot decay, and never dulls. The Eye of the Sea, which resides in the blade’s base, is said to show the wielder what they desire most. The wielder can also control some creatures of the sea. It is even said that one could control the waves, and make storms with its power! No Mann has ever held this blade in their hands though, or even seen the relic, so these rumors are nothing more than sailors’ Folktales.

If the Sword of the Seas is out there, perhaps one day a fine young Captain will be able to locate the lost Island, and reclaim the relic, and become the most powerful sea captain in all of Elyria!

Sins of the Past

I was tired of life on the land, so I made my way to the port. Bastards Bay it was called. Or so the locals told me. The map called it “Gull’s Rest”, but maybe I had a bad map. I was looking for a new life. My former one had been smashed to pieces by bad luck and poor choices. So, I made way for the tavern to enlist upon a sailing ship. Maybe I’d haul cargo up and down the coast for the rest of my life. Who could say.

I walked into the tavern and sat at the bar. An old sailor was sat next to me. I turned to him and struck up a conversation.

“Ahoy, mate, what kind of sailing do you do?” I asked.

“Mate, ye don’t want to know.” He replied in a gruff salty tone. I assured him I did, as I was looking for work.

“Aye, that so? Ye want to join our Qinforsaken crew?” The old To’resk asked.

“What makes your crew forsaken?” I inquired.

“Well now, let me tell ye the tale..” And he proceeded to tell me thus:

“Mine is a tale of death and grief. I thought I caught a thief. When I went out to have a glass o’ rum, I returned to find a stranger’s arse in me bed! I grabbed me pot and smashed his head! There beneath him in me own bed, me pretty wife was layin’. She said: “By Qin you killed the tax man Ted!” Next time I’ll clean my pot ahead, so I don’t get piss in bed.

Our Bosun killed a priest for gamblin’ debts. He donned the robes upon his neck, and went to church to collect the tithe. The time had come to pay his debt, so he bet, and lost his every dime. So now he preaches for our lot, to bet and gamble thou shalt not! Though, when he’s drunk he shouts and moans, “Let’s roll them lucky bones!”

Our Captain is the worst of all! She used to be a Noble see, rich in beauty, gold and health. She lived a life of joy and wealth. She was meant to wed the Duke of Zylphania’s son. She ran away and set her sails! Better to flee from land than marry a bloody Alesian mann! She’s sailed the seas for seven years, and the limey’s her name fear!

Well all of that is past and gone. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. You’ve passed the point of no return, now the pirate trade you’ll learn!”

The old To’resk’s tale ended, and with that, I found myself basically press ganged and serving aboard a Pirate Raider! Never had I a more joyful day then the day I became a scurvy buccaneer! My life was no longer sad and broken, but now had purpose! Compared to the lot of brigands I was sailing with, I was a Virtue! We sailed the coasts pillaging and plundering and I got all the adventure I could ever ask for!

The Dark Abyss.

Many sailors sail the seas of Elyria with the constant thought of death hanging above their heads. This idea of dying at sea is a systemic fear amongst those that ply the waters. Brave souls fear the Dark Abyss. The crushing depths, cold and dark, that none return from. All one’s deeds laid bare before Oceanus. Judgement rendered, and their mortality stripped! Many dangers lurk on the waves that threaten to send a sailor into this Dark Abyss.

The mere threat of simply falling overboard is enough to keep many Elyrians on dry land. Other threats include being sunk by rocks or reefs, pirates or monsters. Many people fear the sea with great reason. The Dark Abyss looms ever present in the nightmares of all sailors. Being dragged down, down, down… Surrounded by darkness!

Once a sailor falls into the water, it’s unlikely their ship will turn around to save them! Time, fear, and difficulty of locating a lost sailor in the water are all deterrents to rescue. Oceanus then grasps the sailor, and drags him down below. Sailors are never alone there, however… They are in the company of the thousands of lost souls that also fell victim to the power of the ocean. They lie down there, where it is eternal night, and fish peck their scurvy bones.

A thousand restless sailors lie, as Oceanus won’t let them die! Some say with the fish they now sleep, but there’s no sleep for those lost in the deep. There’s no one to save their mortal souls! They remain, suspended in the inky black of the Dark Abyss! "Let no joyful voice be heard! Let no man look up to the sky with hope! And let this day be cursed by we who ready to wake…” scream the damned in lamentation! Woe and despair unto those who do not fear the restless dead! Those lost wretches, the sons of Elyria, trapped forever in the Dark Abyss.

The Wretched Life of a Sailor.

Life out on the high seas was a treacherous one. Sailors had to contend with a multitude of dangers and horrors that landsmenn never had to think about! The merchant ship, “Searing Seas” was a famously tough ship to work on. The Ship’s officers were overly fond of punishments, especially the gangplank! It was said that the Neran Captain Spalland was evil incarnate. Ah, but the life of a sailor is rife with dangers, and an evil captain is but one of many. Sailors, as it turns out, are gluttons for punishment. The “Searing Seas” is just one infamous example of a history of maritime hardships common among the sailors of Elyria!

Take the poor sod, Jonathan Taft. He was tied to the mast for swabbing slowly and sailing too close to the shoals! Taft was left there, and fed nothing but old bread and water for days before the Captain exclaimed that he had grown tired of Taft’s ugly To’resk face. He decreed Taft be gangplanked! The crew brought out that dreadful plank, set it over the gunwale, and poor Taft was forced over the edge at cutlass point! Dragged down to the Dark Abyss!

Trevor McBain was another poor soul. He was accused of stealing, witchcraft, and playing with the swabbies feelings. In the brig, he spent fourteen days in chains! This time, the Bosun exclaimed: “Let it be know, I hold no grudge against McBain, but I’ve grown a fondness for his wife! I’ve waited quite some time for this moment, but don’t fear, I’ll treat her with respect!”

Gangplank. McBain was tossed overboard just like Taft. The motto was: When in doubt of punishment, Gangplank it shall be. That became the war cry whenever anyone was accused of a crime aboard the wretched ship!

There were of course, other punishments as well. Far worse than the Gangplank even! Once a Kypiq named Pellic was accused of stealing the Captain’s rum. He was hauled up into the mains and left to hang upside down by his feet for the entire voyage!

Then there was the case of Slomb, a sleazy Drasian deckhand who decided he was tired of the life at sea, and ignored all orders from the ship’s crew! The Bosun was quite pleased with that one. He hauled Slomb on deck like a codfish and spent the entire evening introducing the poor ghoul to the Captain’s Daughter!

Marooning was another punishment the Captain liked. Whenever a sailor began to grow restless and challenged the Captain’s authority, he’d leave the old salt stuck on a tiny island somewhere! He’d not even leave the sailor a knife or bottle of rum. Just shoved him into the sea close to a spit of sand in the middle of the ocean and left him there.

Worst of all though, was the dreaded Keel Hauling. When someone was accused of the most severe crimes against the ship, they were Keel Hauled! This was a terrible punishment that consisted of being tied to a rope, thrown over the bow of the ship, and then dragged below the hull until you came up behind the stern, shredded by barnacles and drowned by salt water!

Punishments were just the tip of the iceberg for these poor sailors. Long times away from land often caused many sailors to go crazy. Lack of a proper diet caused them to become sick with delirium and scurvy! Some sailors would become so crazy they’d just jump overboard without any warning, deciding to take their chances with Oceanus directly instead of wasting away on the hot dry decks or in the cold, slimey bilge! Of course, the Dras were prized as sailors for long haul voyages, as their ability to eat rotten food was very useful in combating these diseases of insanity.

Pirates were of course the dread of many a merchant mariner. Brigands and Buccaneers would lie in wait in bays, inlets, and estuaries for passing ships laden with goods to plunder. Often times, pirate crews would press gang mariners into service aboard their raiders! Of course, for some mariners, the allure of piracy was just as intoxicating as the allure of the sea itself.

Storms plagued sailors as well. Tossing and rolling them on the high waves. Stinging them with rain and wind. Storms could even set ships a blaze with strikes of lightning. Many a sailor was washed overboard, or caught in the rigging during a rough blow!

Then there were the sea monsters. Those most terrible beasts that lie in wait in the inky depths. There were many a tale that they would ram ships, wrap their tentacles around ships, knock sailors from the deck, and even drag entire vessels to their doom! Tales of sea monsters kept many ships close to shore and out of the deep ocean!

The sea has always had a sweet allure though. It calls to menn and womenn from the farthest reaches of Elyria. No matter how scary the sea and life on it seems, sailors flock to her. Eventually, it is said, all people make their way to the sea. Another saying, is that all rivers flow into the sea, yet she is never full. Her song is to sweet and melodic to ignore. It is for this reason that ships are never without sailors to endure the harsh environments of the ocean and all her dangers. As they say, the sea is a cruel mistress.

This Life at Sea.

“Oh how I regret that awful day I left me wife and sailed away! Now I’m heading to the gallows with a noose around me neck! When I’m swinging by that rope, I won’t cry, but rather choke! I’ll crack a smile as I’ll finally be free! Free of that wretched life upon the sea!

I signed up for the Navy and I regretted it right away. Lo! The Captain was a toxic Dras who’d smite ye down with a spike and curse! The First Mate was far worse, he’d strip the skin from ye neck with the cat o’nine for steppin’ out o’ line! I can’t afford to take me life and smite the Qins so I did bad and misbehaved! I hoped the Crown would let me pay! Should they sentence me to die, at least me soul wouldn’t fry in the fires of Karcion!

So I invoked the Kraken’s Curse, cut the watchmen’s purse, kicked the First Mate in the nuts! I confessed and spilled me guts! They locked me up in hopes I’d crack, and had the cat dancing on me back! They hauled me around the keel, but me life they wouldn’t steal! Several months in the brig, they finally let me out. Then I stabbed the Captain dead! I thought fer sure they’d have me head. Instead I spurred a mutiny! By the Qins, they promoted me!

As a new watchmen, I thought I might seal our fate. Late that night, a pirate fleet approached us from the west. I didn’t raise the alarm at all! They were quiet as mice as they snuck up on us, and fifty three Bords were killed right there, but me they chose to spare...They said, you’re Neran and so are we, we’ll save your life and set you free! Just denounce them Bord and join our crew! I replied: “Qins save King D and go fuck you!”

Oh how I regret that day I enrolled and sailed away! Now I’m at the Gallows at cutlass point of these ruthless pirates, noose tight! Set me free, cause this awful life at sea ain’t for me!”

“Do ye ever shut up!?” cried one of the Neran Pirates as he smacked the poor sailor in the back with the butt of his cutlass. “Step up there ye swab, and meet your maker!”

And with that, the poor sailor was hung, finally set free from his awful life at sea.

Lonely It Be.

Sinvar sat at the bar in the dingy little tavern. The smell of acrid pipe smoke filled the air. It was stale and musty in there, and smelled slightly like low tide. Sinvar was just looking for some entertaining stories though. He was a mighty Janoan Bard! He searched far and wide, from Kairos to Bordweall in search of the greatest tales to tell. For him, this was his hunt. The best stories made for the best prey.

So he had made his way to this dingy little dockside town in search of sea tales. He had hoped to hear tales of sea monsters and far away exotic lands, lost treasures and mutinies at sea! He turned to the sailor next to him. He was a rough looking Brudvir. Long red beard, and crusty eyes. Sinvar then asks:

“Tell me, you’re a sailor. What stories do you have of the sea?”

The Brudvir looked at him, a blank expression on his face. Finally he opened his mouth and in a broken yet understandable Neran replies:

“Aye mate, ye want tales of the sea? Well let me tell ye one. A few voyages past, we were at a Kairos rat hole. There we lifted a slender mate. We sailed for months, and I fer sure ain’t seen no lass of late. You see with this here slim sailor, I suspected a slight charade.

Now before I continue, let me say… Lonely it be this life at sea. We ain’t seen that much opportunity, so remember that as I tell me tale, it’s lonely as hell under sail.

You see, his voice was thin, an’ his hands was lily white. He never cursed, picked no fights, an’ had the lightest of steps. I watched this mate for a while. Before long I was sure of his secret play. Never been so sure I say!

Now I said to me self, this lad’s for sure, this lad’s a lass! And I be a handsome sailor, who deserves a piece of ass. So I started out by offerin’ the girl to relieve her of her watch. She giggled and smiled an’ later that night, I drank half a bottle of bitter tea! Soon came the time to make me move, so I lured her under deck. She was warm in me arms, an’ willin’ fer sure as I kissed her on the neck.

Well the clothes was dropped, an’ I was in fer a shock! This sure was no lass, me mate! I was wrong, an’ enraged as I drew me cutlass to end this dreadful date! As he turned to run, I reckoned, he was still a piece of ass. So I braced myself as it dawned on me, I don’t need for friggin’ lass!

So what is the spirit of this here tale? It don’t matter much under sail...” The Brudvir laughed a hearty laugh. He then went into details, and Sinvar’s eyes widened at the language!

Sinvar’s jaw was dropped. He couldn’t believe what this sailor had just told him. This story was great, but in ways Sinvar had never considered. Such a twist in the plot. It had started out as a lonely sailor looking for a good time, but quickly turned into a crazy mess! The passion of the sailor’s rage as he found out the secret! It was so juicy and entertaining. However, could it be a true story, or just the old salt pulling his leg? Sinvar thought about the tale as he had written it all down. It was a racy affair, and the Brudvir was none to silent on particulars… Perhaps this story, was best saved for more private audiences. Sinvar decided to continue his hunt for tales he could share among a broader crowd!

The Klabautermann

The day was hot and growing long. The suns were sinking lower in the sky and the humid air of the swamp was getting to be to much for the sailors waiting on deck. The Captain, a stern Neran man of not more than 30 years, was conducting some last minute business before returning his crew of mixed tribes back on their voyage to circumnavigate the continent. They had stopped at this port for a few days to resupply and spend a little time on land. An afternoon thunderstorm was forming out at sea, and this caused the sailors some alarm.

A Janoa was high in the crosstrees with a spyglass watching the storm carefully. Such squalls could be a challenge for a medium sized cutter such as the “Seafarer’s Luck”, so the watchmen was keeping a sharp eye on its development. The Storm was still far out to sea, so there wasn’t much need for alarm. A short while later, the Captain boarded the ship, and the mates worked the sails until the ship was rolling through a light choppy sea.

The Captain called his officers to the quarterdeck and held a meeting. He explained that while he was on his way back to the ship, a Drasian Shaman stopped him and explained that he should be wary of “The little man”, and not to anger this creature or he would invoke the “Kraken’s Curse”. The young Captain laughed as he relayed the message, and said

“Gents, I relay this message not for sincerity, but for entertainment! Such nonsense!” The mates didn’t laugh. They knew that this Captain was newly appointed by the Count, and had not sailed much beyond the borders of Vornair. He had no idea what he was getting into, and had quite possibly doomed them all.

“Captain, ye should watch how ye speak of the Klabautermann.” The First Mate warned. He was a big Brudvir of almost twice the Captain’s age. His long chestnut beard blew in the stiff sea breeze as he looked gravely at the Captain.

“Such nonsense. You believe in these tall tales?” All of the officers nodded solemnly. At that the Captain huffed and ordered the sailors back to their posts. The sailors returned to their duties, but the Bosun went below deck. There, amongst the boxes and barrels, he left a small offering of salted meat and hardtack bread for the Klabautermann.

The storm seemed to hold off for a while as the Seafarer’s Luck cut gracefully through the waves. They had a favorable wind and the seas were not so rough. One of the mates was busy tying a halyard off when something caught his eye. He turned, but the thing was gone. The mate, a young To’resk, shook his head and blinked. He then turned to the mate next to him and asked if he had seen anything. The Drasian Mate said he hadn’t, so the pair went back to work on the sails. After his sighting of something, the To’resk mate felt that the ship felt different. He looked around. The Cutter wasn’t huge, but it was big enough that the ten or so sailors on board were not all visible at once. Some were up in the rigging, others below deck. The Captain was at the helm, whistling a shanty.

As he turned back to his work, there, in front of him, stood a 2 foot tall creature. It was wearing rough, homespun oilskins, had greenish blue skin, and webbed fingers. Its face kind of looked similar to a fish’s, with a long seaweed like beard, big black eyes and big lips. He wore a pointed hat with what looked like seaweed dangling off the tip. The To’resk mate gasped, but couldn’t move. He was so shocked at the thing he saw before him. The little man winked at the sailor, before darting away behind a pile of large ropes. The mate was disturbed. He had never seen such a creature before in his life. He quickly ran to the pile of ropes to see where the little man had gone, but there was nothing there. The sailor then ran amidships to the Second Mate, and relayed what he had seen. As he was telling the Second Mate, the entire ship was covered in a soft melody. It was like a shanty none of the sailors had ever heard, soft and beautiful, yet mournful and sad.

The Captain shouted to the First Mate to stop whoever was playing that music, as the storm was getting closer and all hands were needed to be ready for its impact. The Brudvir sailor went through the whole ship, but could find no one playing any music. When he got to the Second Mate, he was informed of the little man sighting. He sighed and shook his head. He returned to the Captain.

“Captain, ye’ve gone and done it. Ye angered the Klabautermann. The Bosun’s offering didn’t please him, now he’s here to curse us!” The Brudvir said angrily.

“That nonsense again--” Was all the Captain could get out before the little man appeared on the helm, laughing maniacally. It was the creepiest laugh any of the sailors had ever heard. The Captain nearly fell backward as he stumbled away from the helm as fast as he could.

“By the Virtues, what kind of unnatural spirit is this!?” He shouted. The First Mate responded:

“Tis the Klabautermann! A sea spirit of bad luck and ill omen for sailors! If ye anger or offend the Klabautermann, it will curse a ship to doom! By my ancestors we’re cursed!” The despair in the sailor’s voice was clear. The little man on the helm danced a jig, and continued to laugh in his high pitched, evil laughter. By now, the rest of the sailors had seen the commotion on the quarterdeck. The seasoned sailors, who knew of the tales, were all cowering at the sight of the little man. The greener sailors looked on in puzzled amazement. No one knew what to do, as the Klabautermann danced. The little man pulled out a fife and began to play the sad shanty again. The sky was growing darker as the storm approached. The winds picked up, but all the sailors were frozen, entranced by the sight of a creature they had never seen, and paralyzed by the music it was playing.

One of the sailors broke the trance and shouted:

“It’s the end! We’re not long for the Dark Abyss! Oh angry sea spirit, spare this ship for the Captain knew not of your kin!”

The Klabautermann stopped its dance and song, turned and glared at the sailor who dared speak directly to it. All was silent save for the howling of the wind and splash of the sea. The little man hopped off the Helm, sneering at the Captain, and then with a wink, leapt over the gunwale into the sea.

The crew looked around. The storm had changed direction, and the ship was sailing into clearer weather. They looked at the sailor who was brave enough to address the Klabautermann. They cheered for him, and the Captain called for him to step up onto the quarterdeck.

“You saved this ship from evil. For that, you will be given an extra share in all the treasure we haul back. You will also be relieved of watches for the next week!” The sailor was shocked. An extra share of treasure from these foreign lands would set him up to be rather wealthy!

The ship continued to sail on its venture to circumnavigate the continent, and had no further incidents with the dreaded Klabautermann. The crew always remembered to never speak of the creature, but they always left it an offering of alcohol and food. They knew the little sea man was still watching them, as the offerings were always gone the next day.