Lost Anchorage - Shadows Rise

 

"These statues look strange" said Ricmo.. "I'm not sure what they are made of but it isn't stone, too smooth and shiny for that."

"Some kind of pottery I think" said Whisperleaf. 

"The artistic style is different from any I've seen" said Freddy. "From what I remember, the Lucky Gods originally came from far far away to the west. Past Mbo even, to lands that are only legends in Mythras."

"Well be that as it may, the Navigator seemed to think that an offering is in order, and we could use all the luck we can get" commented Dakhir. "So how does this work exactly?" He turned toward Whisperleaf.

"How would I know? We worship Nature, we don’t huddle around in strange little stone houses playing with goat entrails. Don’t hold much with deities in general for that matter." Whisperleaf replied. "No offense of course" directed randomly at the fattest of the statues. The statue did not seem to take offense. "I imagine we just each pick one and burn some incense to it, maybe leave an offering?"

"Well this one seems musical. Freddy, that one must be yours." remarked Ricmo

   

Freddy walked over the statue, who seemed to be holding a lute. He lit the stick of incense in the tray next to statue and then, after a moments thought, took the lute off his back and laid it at the statues feet. In the flickering light of the brazier it was impossible to say for certain, but it seemed as if the statue smiled. 

Marius, ever the friend on the common man, went straight to the statue dressed like a farmer.

"He looks jolly!" said Ricmo, gravitating to the happy fat god. "This one seems to be a friend to the animals" said Whisperleaf.

The Sturg as usual didn't say anything but he walked over to the statue dressed in armor and lit some incense. Ozraeline followed and did the same. Finally, Dakhir walked over to the old wise man and made an offering. 

Suddenly from outside the ruined temple, a howl shattered the quiet night. 

Marius whirled, turning her back on the fire, sprinted to the edge of the ruined temple, knocked an arrow and peered out into the darkness. "Something is out there".  Whisperleaf came over to join her, peering into the darkness as well

After a moment, a dark figure crossed over the threshold of firelight, sat back on it's haunches and studied the two elves for a moment. It was large and bestial, in many ways resembling a great wolf, but with the head and features of a humanoid. After a moment of silent observation, it slipped back into the darkness and vanished.

The party was quickly abuzz, as they moved from the center of the temple to the edge, readying their weapons and peering into the darkness. Though they heard several more howls and say a few glimpses, whatever was out there seemed afraid to attack the circle of firelight. 

And during all the commotion, no one remembered there were seven gods. And only six of them had received offerings.

A few minutes later, on the road toward the belltower, The Sturg was staring down the maw of the wolf thing as it blocked his path and growled at him.

"Seems to be some kind of dominance display" said Whisperleaf. "Try to look big, and growl back at it?"

The Sturg briefly turned his head toward the druid, somehow radiating an air of outrage from under his featureless helm.

The man-dog-thing continued to growl, and pace back and forth, but didn't engage. The Sturg compromised by shaking his sword at it. For a moment, the tableau held, as the two dark figures stared eachother down, Man-Dog and The Sturg.

Marius from atop her perch on Goodboy, grimaced and muttered. "Dominance Druid? Or...distraction?" she rotated in her saddle looking rearward and suddenly yelled. 

"Ward yourself. They come from behind!"

And at that moment the rest of the pack leapt out of the shadows and attacked the rear and flank of the heroes.

The rear of the party was weakly armored and not well suited to hand to hand combat, except for Ozraeline, who generally took up the rear position specifically to guard from ambushes. And a good thing too, it proved that day. 

Her long two-handed scimitar leapt from it's sheathe as she whirled to face the threat. The moment of warning from the Ranger was barely sufficient, giving her just enough time to prevent the man-dog from catching her from behind, her steel interposed itself in the nick of time. Still, there were four enemy, she was only able to intercept two. Marius spurred Goodboy forward and the Warg slammed into a third dog, as the two great beasts bit and tore at eachother. But the fourth was left free, and leapt onto the back of the unsuspecting Freddy, bowling him to the ground and delivering savage wounds with teeth and claw. 

Acting in perfect coordination with the rest of the pack, the lead monster howled, a bone chilling sound, and charged The Sturg. The Sturg was a being of singular focus however, and had not allow the chaos to his rear to distract him from the foe in front of him. Not for an instance had he taken his eyes off his enemy. He was ready and neatly took the attack on his shield. 

Ozraeline saw her friend Freddy’s distress, feinted at her foes and managed to maneuvered over to Freddy's prone form. She struck the dog that was savaging him a mighty blow. It squealed in pain and turned away from the bard, toward her. She’d managed to get it's attention, it left off mauling Freddy's screaming form at least. Good for Freddy but now she was holding three of them at bay.

"A little help would be good here" cried Oz as her great blade desperately wove a cage of steel around her, keeping her many foes back.

"Help coming up!" shouted Whisperleaf as green magic flowed from his hands. A giant constrictor snake appeared out of thin air behind the biggest monster that Oz was facing, and wrapped it's coils around it.

Ricmo also jumped into the fight, his blades wrecking a bloody trail across one of the dogs that was threatening Oz. Marius gracefully slipped backward off of her perch on Goodboy, leaving the Warg to pin the monster, while she put some distance between herself and the fight, unlimbering her great bow. 

For a few moments the battle was hot and heavy, but the pack seemed reliant on ambush tactics, and once their surprise was ruined by the keen senses of the Ranger, they struggled to hold their own against the heroes in face to face combat. After several of their number fell, the rest suddenly broke off the assault and vanished back into the darkness, leaving the party to lick it's wounds.  

The heroes regrouped in the shadow of a ruined belltower, where Marius had taken up position during the fight. As Whisperleaf did his best to heal the party, Marius suddenly got up and darted behind a rockpile, emerging towing a squirming adolescent firmly by the ear.

A few moments later Dakhir questioned the captive. 

"What do you mean you are afraid of heights?" asked Dakhir.

The ghost of the young boy looked chagrined. He couldn't have been more then 14 when he died and his uniform was at least a size too large for him.

"That's why the bosun assigned me to this duty. He could never get me up the mainmast. He said I was a sorry midshipman and I'd climb this belltower every night to take my watch post in the dark until ah' damn well could do it in ma sleep and lost ma fear. But I can't bring myself to do it at all."

"What's up there?" asked Ricmo. "Treasure? Monsters? Monsters with treasure?”

"Na treasure just my watchpost. I am ta keep my eyes peeled for threats ta the anchorage. Tis the highest post with a view ta the northerly approaches."

"This can be climbed. But not easily" announced Marius studying the ruined tower. 

The Sturg suddenly levitated a few inches above the ground.

"That's right, that armor of yours can do that, can't it?" laughed Dakhir. The Sturg bobbed up and down a few inches to drive the point home.

"Well we can send you up there to see what's what, but you wouldn't be able to tell us what you saw" mused Dakhir. The Sturg bobbed again.

"I can climb this, no problem" announced Ricmo. "I'll go with him."

The Sturg floated over to the ghost boy, pointed to the top of the tower and offered an arm. The ghose boy turned paler (which was a good trick considering his condition).

"Thank ye kindly good sir, but I recknon I'll stay down here".

The Sturg pointed again. The ghost boy shook his head. Suddenly, fast as a snake the Sturg lunged forward, wrapped both his mighty arms around the ghost boy and levitated up the tower. The ghost boy started shrieking at the top of his lungs, but The Sturg didn't hesitate, floating relentlessly up"

"Guess that's my cue" smiled Ricmo and he scampered up the side of the tower, nimble as a cat.  

A few minutes later both Ricmo and The Sturg reappeared, sans ghost boy. "

"Not much to see up there really" said Ricmo. "Nice view, big brass bell, no treasure". He looked disappointed. "I did notice a light in the cathedral tower though. That's new. Bet it is Darcy again."

"Where is the ghost boy?" asked Whisperleaf

"Oh Sturg left him up there, clinging to the wall for dear life. Think Sturg is a fan of tough love."

An hour later, they arrived at the cathedral. 

The interior was still ruined but as they climbed to the upper floor of the sacrarium, they found the upper chamber had been restored to a furnished state, as a small study and bedroom. And there, translucent and insubstantial, was the Magus Darcy Wentworth, writing in his journal once more. 

"This shade has a powerful need to tell his story" remarked Marius. 

"Let's read" said Freddy

SpringRising 7th, IY 723

I am not imagining things. Ghosts are walking these streets. I suppose I should not be surprised given the manner and magnitude of death that has visited this accursed island.

Fortunately I am a magus of Annwyn and even though the darker arts are not my area of forte, mastery of the spirit world is my birthright. I have no need to fear them.

However given the change in situation I am relocating myself to the Church of the Guiding Star. It’s walls are consecrated and will ensure no foul spirit troubles me during my sleep

SummerRising 10th, IY 723

Over two months since my last entry and three months since the catastrophe. It becomes hard to find the will to put thoughts to pen. I have completed my search of the town. It is not there. I will now search the citadel.

SummerRising 11th, IY 723

The citadel is not empty. The dead warriors  have risen, not merely spirits but inhabiting the remnants of their flesh. I have heard that this happens at times, the Duty can act in peculiar ways when not properly channeled. Fortunately they still follow navy protocols and recognize my rank, so they allow me to pass and show me the deference due my standing. 

The redoubt is mostly intact, it is large and will take me considerable time to search it. I will do so in a methodical fashion 

SummerWaning 5th, IY 723

It is not in the Bastion. I am certain. I have looked everywhere even in the cellars belowground. It was a terrible ordeal walking those silent, half flooded halls flanked by the walking dead, the ever present smell of decay, but I steeled myself to it. I have even asked the Admiral himself, he has risen as well. The Daughter is lost. It must have either been swallowed by the earth or taken by the sea. I despair 

The autumn approaches, the storms of that season can be fierce and the island no longer lies far above the waves. I must fortify my chambers in the cathedral and ensure I have water and supplies for a siege.

WinterWaning 1st IY 723

This is the first time I have written in this journal in three months. Despair has taken me, there seems no point. Almost a year since I have seen or spoken to another person. The dead are becoming increasingly restless and it is common to see them now, but they are poor companions.

Lately I have been dreaming more often of the Lady of the White, Ophelia, the admiral's wife. Strange since I barely knew her, though not strange given she was the last living person I saw

WinterGate 20th IY 723

Something is happening on this island. Something dark. We approach the Day of Shadow, the darkest night of the year and the dead grow increasingly restless. There is a feeling of something building to a climax. Magus and blood of Annwyn though I am, I am afraid 

WinterGate 22nd IY 723

Yesterday the Shadow rose up and overwhelmed the veil and took this entire island. For a full day we existed on the Other Side. The spirits of the dead and things far worse walked these streets freely and scratched at the doors of the cathedral. If not for the holy spells on the walls of this church I would have surely been destroyed. Even so I saw things, horrible things, things that threatened my sanity. 

On the dawn of the 22nd the shadow retreated and we returned to the world of men. However I fear this is not the end. The veil here is wounded somehow, thinned by the events that have transpired. I fear it will only get weaker over time. 

I probably have some respite, the days will grow longer from here on out, springtime is a season of rising light and life, not a strong season for the Shadow. But that is only a temporary reprieve.

I especially fear the anniversary of the death of the town. That date will have great power. I must escape this place before then, somehow 

In the meantime I am no cleric but I will endeavour to strengthen the spells guarding this church . I will have a need for them.

WinterWaning 13th IY 723

No progress on leaving the island but I believe I am gaining some insight on why the dead here are so restless and why the veil is thinning

I believe it comes down to the Admiral and his delay in acting on the Recall order from the Admiralty. I believe his actions were a violation of the Duty that we are all bound to, and thus the spirits of the dead are trapped here until they can fulfill their orders and satisfy the Duty. It would explain the revenants manning the walls, the restless spirits of the townsfolk. They all wish to acknowledge the Recall and return Home. They cannot rest until they do so. 

I believe I should attempt to have another talk with the Admiral but I must admit my courage fails me. I do not think I can set foot in those underground tunnels, walk among those living corpses again. The thought of it turns my blood to water. 

Ophelia comes to me in my dreams. I believe these to be true visitations. She is trying to tell me something but I cannot understand her

SpringRising 1st IY 724

I have found it! At last I have found it, after a year of fruitless searching by pure luck the Daughter is mine!!! He was on the 5th rate Eliza May! Possibly having dinner with her Captain, they were known to be fast friends. 

When the wave came, the Eliza May was overwhelmed and dashed against rocks in the harbor. All aboard her were drowned, the captain of the Lady Jezebel likewise in the great cabin below decks I warrant, probably well into his cups with his friend. But the rear part of the ship survived, wedged into the great rock on which it was thrown, and still lies above the waves. The ships of Annwyn are built strongly, of lignum vitae, the sacred wood, laced with many spells, and have a terrible vitality. And that was my salvation.

It was only yesterday that it occurred to me to search that wreck, that there might possibly be something of use there, and what did I see upon stepping on deck but the captain of the Lady Jezebel himself walking what was left of the quarterdeck 

I must admit I acted with great violence to wrench the daughter from his undead hands. My actions rousted the entire undead crew, I am lucky to have escaped with my life. But I have the Daughter ! I can leave !!!! 

SpringRising 3rd IY 724

All is ready . I have stocked the Lady Jezebel with all I need for the journey. The Daughter functions as expected, the Jack Tars answer to my command. Tomorrow we set sail for Annwyn!

I will leave a copy of this record here for any who may find it. The Empire likely will never return to this Star forsaken spit of land, but someday someone will come here and it is important for them to know what has transpired. 

Tomorrow I sail for home 

SpringRising 4th IY 724

I have failed. I cannot escape. The day started well enough, we raised anchor, lifted our sail and caught a good easterly breeze. However as soon as we left sight of land the wind died and a strange fog descended all around. The compass in the binnacle spun crazily, the wind became light and erratic and we soon lost all sense of direction. Finally we emerged from the fog only to find ourselves retracing our course sailing directly back into the harbor

Seven times this happened 

I fear that when this island was drawn into the shadowlands during the Longest Night it never truly emerged again. We are trapped in the shadow still. It is enough to drive me mad 

SpringRising 6th IY 724

I believe I have found a way out. But I have no time, the day of dread approaches.  I must find her, she is the key, the key to it all. She is still in the lighthouse. Or the shadowy reflection thereof. I go to seek her. I take the shadowoil that I might travel into darkness. I must go at night. There is no time!!!!