Lost Anchorage - The Music of the Spheres

"This is a fascinating contraption" said Whisperleaf. "You said it's called an Orrery? It's quite intricate all those little gears and moving spheres. It's like a fine watch , only the size of a horse". 

Ricmo agreed from where he had crawled underneath to examine the apparatus. "It's amazingly complicated. Wheels within wheels, gears within gears, some so small I can barely see them. All whirring away".

"And quite useful" said the Navigator, in a voice like dry dust blowing over sandstone. "It accurately models the motions of the heavenly spheres, which I can then use to construct the navigation tables that guide the Fleet in their journeys". The tall skeletal figure gestured toward the shelves filled with books and scrolls. "Without these, the ships of the empire would have a difficult time finding their way."

Almost as an afterthought he mentioned. "It's also quite useful in predicting the future. If certain conditions are met. Certain kinds of futures anyway."

The heroes ears perked up at that last statement. The Admiral's orders to assist them had proven to be quite the door-opener, not only had the Quartermaster agreed to their every request for supplies but the Harbormaster's Tower had proven to be quite useful as well. Here. they had managed to acquire maps and charts of the surrounding seas, and of the Thousand Isles (at least the Thousand Isles as they were five hundred years ago) and in addition the Navigator, despite being dead and skeletal, had proven a fascinating conversationalist. 

For one thing he seemed to be aware he was dead. Which was a first for this place. "Hard to not notice the time passing when you study the heavens." he explained. "Our memories don't seem to work quite correctly anymore, I have little memory of yesterday, but the day I graduated from the Imperial College is fresh in my mind. So I am not surprised my compatriots don't really understand their condition. But every day the heavens remind me of how long I must have been on this cursed place". 

Ricmo raised his hand. "Do me. Do my future".   

"I shall need the exact place and time of your birth." said the Navigator.

Ricmo gave the date in Valorian reckoning. The Navigator stared blankly and then said "I'm sorry that calendar is not familiar to me, could you perhaps give it to me in Imperial Years?" It was Ricmo's turn to look blank.

"Hold on" said Whisperleaf. "I can do this.". The Druid mumbled to himself, counted a bit on his fingers and then provided a translation. Dakhir blanched, wondering how the Navigator would respond to a date that was at least five hundred years past the time this fortress had been destroyed. The Navigator didn't seem to notice. 

"Might as well do you all together, since you sail together" he mentioned. "Dates please?". The rest of the party provided the required information with some help from Whisperleaf but Dakhir hesitated. He wasn't in the habit of providing strange supernatural creatures with personal information, being a Warlock he was well aware of  the power that came with such knowledge. However this was not a Name this was just a birth day. Not an uncommon request from an astrologer. "Very well".

"And you my large friend?" asked the Navigator looking at the The Sturg. The Sturg just stood there impassive as always behind his black helm.

"No one knows if he was actually born." said Dakhir. "Some say he just congealed one day out of darkness and shadow. Some say that armor is sentient, and empty, or contains only dry bones, or clockwork gears. I do not know. All I know is, he is called the Sturg."  

The Sturg just stood there, impassive behind his full helm.

"Very well" said the Navigator. He went to Orrery, and pulled a lever that disengaged the intricate mechanism that normally ticked the gears forward as time passed. He manually ran the Orrery back in time, took notes on a piece of parchment, adjusted it, took more notes, and continued in that vein until he had made six adjustments, one for each birthday. 

"Very well, now we must consult the heavens." The party followed the Navigator up the small spiral staircase that climbed up to the battlements. 

The top of the tower was dominated by a huge brass and crystal telescope. The Navigator walked over to it and started repositioning it. "If you would not mind, Sturg, I could use your muscle?" he requested. The Sturg walked over and effortlessly guided the mechanism into the desired coordinates, which strangely enough were almost parallel to the horizon. . 

The Navigator placed his eye to the eyepiece and observed for a long moment.

"Interesting" he said. "If I were you, I would certainly make an offering to the Lucky Gods before I left this place. Their temple is right on the docks. "

"What else did you see?" asked Freddie

"After a long journey, you will find the thing you seek, but not in the form you expect. Other then that, the wakes were confounded, by powerful forces, I could tell no more."

"Can I look through the telescope?" asked Ricmo

"Of course" said the Navigator. Ricmo walked over to the eyepiece and  boldly looked through it. 

"What do you see?" asked Whisperleaf.

"I see a dark sea" said Ricmo. "And glowing wakes of ships on it. So many wakes, all crossing one another".

'Seeing the wakes the future leaves isn't the hard part" said the Navigator. "It's the interpreting of them that is difficult". 

"Does this dark sea have anything to do with the ebony plane that the Orrery rests on?" asked Ricmo. "And why does the mechanism move the world up and down with relation to that plate?" 

"I am sorry my young friend" said the Navigator. "But the Navy has it's secrets and that is one of them". 

Just at that moment the entire tower lurched as a strong tremor rocked it. The heroes had difficulty maintaining their footing.

"A light just bloomed at the edge of the town" said keen eyed Marius. "From the tower on the edge of the sea. That tower was ruined but a moment ago, and now appears whole.

"The Magisters Tower" said the Navigator quietly. 

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Marius raised her hand from where she rode atop GoodBoy, her dire wolf, in the gesture to halt. The party had been carefully making their way across the drowned town. At first the remains of a road had aided them but the water had gradually deepened as the tide moved in and they moved farther from the docks and the higher parts of the ruins.  The water was calf high at this point and cold. 

Marius carefully studied the sea in front of her, which to the rest of the party looked just like the water they had been plodding through for the last half an hour. 

"Something is different here." she observed, "The water moves much faster. And appears deeper"

And at that moment the water reared up, and attacked.

The huge water elemental slammed into Marius and GoodBoy, knocking them both back. But while the rest of the party was caught partially offguard, the Sturg was already in motion. Even as the Elemental's blows were landing on Marius his own sword was rising to meet the monster, while he did his best to interpose his shield between the Elemental and the Ranger.  Welkin, The Sword of Andronicus bit deeply and the Elemental turned toward the new threat. 

With a sudden surge, it engulfed the Sturg.

Marius, injured by the first charge of the creature, and needing to increase the range to her foe so that she could bring her bow to bear, somersaulted off the back of GoodBoy, who's teeth and claws were savagely ripping the elemental. She sprinted back a few yards, to the cover of a nearby grove of trees, and unlimbered her great bow of Frost.

Meanwhile the Elemental was still reaping havoc on the lightly armored center of the party. One massive blow of a watery fist sent Dakhir sprawling. But even as he was knocked back, his demonic fire was revenging himself on his foe. With a bellow, Ozraeline leaped into the fray, her two handed scimitar tracing an arc against the sky before plunging deeply into the elementals watery form.  Ricmo's daggers were busy as he slashed a trail of damage across the Elementals unprotected rear.

Whisperleaf, at the edge of the melee considered options. The Sturg was still deeply engulfed in the Elementals watery form. Whisperleaf was pretty sure that the Sturg needed to breath. Not entirely sure, since it was the Sturg, but pretty sure. He had a spell that was normally used to WALK on water, maybe it would help. He cast it.

And, like a ball being held under the water and then suddenly released, the Sturg popped out of the creature, and broke free. 

Now the battle was starting to turn in the heroes' favor. Blows and magic were raining down on the monster. Marius' great bow was proving especially devastating, the icy arrows it conjured were freezing large chunks of the Water Elemental's form, which were then easily shattered. 

But Marius's keen eyes had spotted something moving toward the party from the side. What appeared to be a suit of armor, animated only by water and wielding a massive flail.

"Ware" she shouted "The creature has a master!"

It looked like an empty suit of rusted armor, inhabited only by dark water vaguely in the form of a man. From under the rusted helm glowing blue eyes peered at the party of adventurers. In it's hand it bore a great flail, also glowing with blue light.

"A Myrmidon!" gasped Dakhir. "They are formed when someone of especially strong will dies by water, and refuses their fate. Dark creatures, fell and evil, bent on taking their revenge on the living."

And even as the first Elemental fell, the Myrmidon raised it's flail and another Elemental rose from the sea to take it's place.

The battle raged as sword and sorcery met watery flails and fists. Now the battle was well and truly joined, as the heroes focused on the new threat, surmising that the Water Elementals were only pawns in the conflict. Whisperleaf smiled to himself. "I think I have a cure for you" he said looking at the watery suit of armor.

 

"Say hello to my little friend".

As the huge shark broke the water behind the Myrmidon, it never even saw it's destruction coming. The massive jaws studded with rows upon rows of teeth closed over the ancient cursed armor and crumpled it like tissue paper, releasing the spirit that had been trapped within.  And as the master died, the servant collapsed back into simple seawater once more. 

The rest of the journey to the tower was uneventful.

As the party approached the Magisters Tower, it was in pristine condition, a far cry from the ruin they had seen from the ship.

A light burned in the highest window. Careful they made their way up the spiral stair, searching for traps at each opportunity. And traps they found, many, but all had been disarmed, the doors unlocked and sometimes even open. Inviting.

Eventually they reached the highest landing, where they saw a translucent figure sitting at a desk, writing in a journal. The room was clearly a wizard's study, but the figure, books and apparatus were all ghostly and insubstantial. 

No matter what they did, they could not get the attention of the figure at the desk, their hands passed through him like through smoke, their words went unheeded. The only sound was the scratch of his pen. After a few moments, Freddy leaned over and began to read what the wizard was writing.

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Springate 7th, Imperial Year (IY) 723

I, Darcy Wentworth, Magus of the 8th circle of the Royal Annwyn College, Leftenant of the Imperial Navy; set pen to parchment in order to describe the events that destroyed the Imperial Navy Haven of North Anchorage. I do not know that anyone will ever find or read these words. But as I am now the sole survivor of these happenings I feel compelled to commit them to record, in the hope that someday, some ship of his Imperial Majesty may return to these waters and discover what took place here.

What occurred is this. Last night during the middle watch of the night I was suddenly awakened from my slumber by a violent shaking, so violent I was cast from my bed and thrown to the floor of my chamber in the uppermost floor of the Magisters Tower

The shaking continued for a full minute with such violence that I was unable to stand. The entire tower swayed and rumbled and even its bespelled walls cracked and groaned. It is only by grace of the Star that Guides and the thick ensorcelled masonry, that it did not collapse upon me

Even before the shaking subsided I managed to crawl to my casement where I beheld a most terrifying sight 

Our proud haven-city had been instantly laid to ruins. A great portion of the haven had, in a manner of moments, sunk beneath the waves, as if the sea opened up and swallowed it whole. All the wharves and docks had sunk except for the central quay, along with more than half of the town. The ocean waves were lapping against the walls of the Bastion where prior they had washed ashore a half league or more away. The Bastion walls, strong though they had been, were rent asunder, many sections entirely cast down and the rest rifted and all akimble. 

Most of the buildings of the town had been reduced to rubble in an instant, with only a few of the strongest (like my tower) remaining . I saw from my vantage a few citizens, most hideously crushed, attempting to extract themselves from piles of timber and masonry. A great wailing of pain and anguish  arose from many mouths

Of the few ships that had been in port most had been taken by the sea along with the harbor, only their masts emerging from the water. 

Our town had been laid to ruin, however this calamity was not yet over. As I watched I noticed the sea that had claimed the lower town began to recede from its prey as if in the grip of a sudden tide. The ocean retreated with great speed, faster than a man could gallop on a fast horse, leaving bare the ruins and wreckage of the former town. And still it retreated even further, exposing reefs and sea bottoms that had never known the light of day. Great fish lay flapping in the mud, as almost to the horizon the sea retreated. 

Not being uneducated in the calamities that can befall ports I knew this boded ill, and that which had retreated was likely to return in great force. Many of the survivors were not so knowledgeable alas, taking this opportunity to rush into the recently flooded sections, searching and crying for loved ones that were lost. I screamed desperately from my window to go back, seek higher ground but to no avail, it was too far, they could not hear.

And then as suddenly as it had left, the sea returned. A great surge of water raced through the harbor and inundated the town, rising to such a height that it entered the uppermost rooms of the few houses which were left standing. Only the tops of the highest houses were visible in the water, along with a scattering of the tops of the masts of the remaining ships, which had been sunk along with them. From my window I saw the water rise to the third floor of my tower before it crested. Again my tower swayed and groaned but again it held. The entire island was covered, survivors were washed away in an instant, the waves overtook the Bastion itself, all was laid waste by the sea.

I saw the 5th rate frigate, Eliza May, torn from her moorings riding the surge of the wave far over the land till she was dashed against a wall, breaking in two and flooded with water. 

But my tower’s foundation was laid with many spells and enchantments and so groaning and shaking, it endured. And when the wave receded, leaving only a shard of the island and town above the sea, I alone survived. 

Alas if only we had headed the recall order this calamity would have been avoided! But the Admiral had a young wife, late with child, and the doctor cautioned against further aggravating a difficult pregnancy with a long sea voyage. And so we tarried. And were destroyed. 

Springate 8th, IY 723

I am not the only survivor after all. The Admiral's wife also survived the catastrophe. I found her trapped in the upper chambers of the lighthouse, which, perched as it was on a tall and rocky island, managed to weather the quake and flood remarkably well. 

It seems that when she had difficulty sleeping, which was often the case due to her pregnancy, she took solace by walking on the balconies of the lighthouse, to take the air and gaze out over the sea toward home. And thus she was safely preserved high above the destruction.

Ophelia was nearly senseless with terror and grief when I found her, Stars Fortune that I was thorough in my search for survivors! She is still almost catatonic and speaks little, the shock of suddenly losing all you hold dear weighs heavy on myself as well. I also suspect she in some degree blames herself for all the deaths. Though I barely knew the Lady of the White prior to these calamities, I think we are both very glad to not be alone amongst all this devastation. 

Alas she was the only survivor I found this day, the sea has drowned or taken the rest, naught but bodies and destruction were uncovered by my search of the town and fortress. Inside the fortress it was especially grim, the garrison was mostly asleep in their bunks in their barracks deep within the walls. Those that were not crushed by fallen masonry drowned to the man trying to escape the waters. Who the quake did not claim the sea did. 

While the water has receded from part of the upper town and from the Bastion, the lower town still lies fathoms beneath the waves. The land has changed permanently I fear, the island will be much smaller here onward, and never be the same as it once was. 

Now that the immediate danger and shock have passed I have had a chance to take stock of our situation. Our prospects do not look hopeful. Fortunately much food and fresh water survived in the Bastion stores so at least we are in no immediate risk of succumbing to hunger or thirst, but with the recall issued and the White Fleet sailed for Home our chances of rescue are small. 

We were, to my knowledge, the last manned imperial outpost in over two thousand leagues or more, so we can expect no ships from the Empire for many years, or possibly ever, if the darker rumors about the reasons for the Recall are true. The natives of these parts are primitive and lack the seacraft to attempt a journey to this remote rocky outpost, even if they had a desire to. 

No one is coming.

All the ships in port are wrecked past repair save only The Lady Jezebel. By some fluke she has anchored far out in the harbor and rode out both the quake and the waves virtually undamaged.  Unfortunately she is far too large for me to sail alone and even if she has Jacks aboard they are forbidden from taking orders from a magus such as myself. Damn the Navy and it’s paranoia about the practitioners of the magical arts, it will be the death of us! Similarly the Jacks will not take commands from a civilian such as Lady White, Admiral's wife though she may be. The enchantment that governs them is very specific about these matters.

I fear the Lady Ophelia and I are marooned