TROUTSTADT

[herculean_wud 3662]

TROUTSTADT

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“BEWARE THE MARE OF THE WATERED BEAST. . .”

 

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TROUTSTADT RESIDENTS HARD AT WORK

 

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The air was supple-sweet, laden with the hazed glow of morning dew; the saline smell of the sea and the warm scent of fresh bread being baked. Yet, not a villager was in sight in the small holding of Troutstadt - an independent fishing village but a few kilometers from the grandiose capital of the Kingdom of Santegia. An otherwordly presence had rapt the villagers in a state of fear, or so He had said. He was Yuort- a peon of the Cloud Temple Huntsmaster and self-declared Man of the Hunt. Clad was he in a mail hauberk with a cloak which had seen better days, flowing in ragged-ribbons from his back; and through eye-slits in a rusted

helm he looked down upon the group who had been brave enough to undertake the task. The Atlasian Naval Guild.

 

Under the command of Yuort, who had decreed he would follow them no further, the Guild went into the heart of the town. The only man brave enough to find himself beside a window or door was an elderly fellow of the name Long Ben. One could deduce that perhaps he was the stoic hero of this town, yet consumed by age and unable to do much to save his kinsmen. But he was like the rest, a quivering villager without the heart to step up to the plate. It was not their fault though, nor his, for in their mind the creature that had so duly and barborously assailed them had only been the content of legend. Before now, at least. . .

 

Long Ben, through the quivering of his voice, managed to spit out a simple instruction, “R-Re-Retrieve t-the clo-cloth. . .th-the clot-cloth on the b-b-b-beach, aye, go. . .get it. . .go!” The Guild obliged with little resistance, but proceeded with caution nevertheless. They scoured the beaches of Troutstadt. . .only stopping when the wizened scrap - crusted with salt - caught they eye of one member.

 

He was a druid- Vahryu Daluon- and helmsman of the group. The cloth - which one could recognise as being a dress; blood-spattered and ragged in its appearance - trundled between his fingers. . .but whispers began to ail her mind. They began quiet at first, but grew; and grew, and grew in volume until they were near deafening; clawing at the ridges of his brain; clawing at his very sanity as if the prying fingers of madness themselves. Although her experience with the Fae lessened the intensity of the voices, they ailed her vigorously regardless; until He released the cloth from her grip out of impulse. The whispers spoke foul curses to him, threats too, but an even more imposing sound gripped him and the group.

 

The approaching of a golden horse broke their attention. It’s form was doused in a thin veil of golden light which was almost heavenly and carried an aura which was sweet like honey. It’s coat was silky-white and unmarred with spots or other imperfections. It was perfectly lean and proud, yet skittish and nervous of the group. It whinied at the sight of the gathering.

 

Hekkaes, a stocky dwarf and as greedy as one could be, laid his avaricious eyes upon the mare and shuffled forth, a hand outstretched. The horse seemed scared of all but him and allowed his advancements. Its voice - an ambrosia-like whisper - goaded him yet further: “Come Hekkaes. . .Come Closer. . .Ignore the others. . .” But by now, Vahryu had smelt the coffee - so to speak - and with a shrill cry of command, he ordered his crewmates to hold the dwarf back; the words of legends wet on his tongue, “Beware the beast of a watered mare. . .”  And as if a key it unlocked the horse’s true form. It grew in size; it rose to hind legs and its skin pulled away from its form to reveal a mere skeletal husk of what it once was; the mane grew tattered and unkempt whilst two more appendages sprouted from its back like some bitter crop; and within a yellowed cage of ribs, a heart of blue beated and pulsated with vigour. A kelpie had been born from what was once a pure animal. The trance was shaken hence. It prepared for attack. So did the group. They brandished weapons of every make.

 

 

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The mare sprung into attack, throwing out one of its acquired appendages to strike those who took the right flank. It’s strike landed true, knocking those in its path off balance, whilst those on the left assailed it with an all manner of blows. An exchange of blows continued like that, interlocking the group and the beast in a bloody stalemate. But slinking in from the rear of the gathered men, came a man of odd disposition; who spoke in a slanted form of aged common. He brought forth a hand and muttered a simple prayer and a ball of Soulfire began to dance with serenity amongst his palm. He glared into it, before looking to the beast before it, and released it posthaste. It danced within the air for a time, before striking its form and near engulfing it.

 

A hideous shriek escaped the beast and it struggled where it stood for a moment. Olgierd stepped forth in near conjunction and threw out his staff to trip it over. And trip it did: it tumbled to the sand below continually shrieking until it finally succumbed. The men and women of the Atlasian Naval Guild had won the day.

 

 

[herculean_wud 3662]

THE BEAST OF THE DEPTHS

 

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THE FIRST VOYAGE

 

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“The waters are choppy and uncharted, having been disregarded for many decades; all maps and recordings have since been lost.” Were Yuort’s final words of warning to the Atlasian Naval Guild in the glowering tavern of the Dominion before his departure. They didn’t see much of him afterwards.

 

It had been an entire Saint’s Year since their last encounter with Yuort. This time he was late, a little uncharacteristic of the professional - discluding his ragged appearance - Man of the Hunt, though attributed it to a rough journey with some immediacy. He told them posthaste of what they were to do, “Speak with Long Ben - he will equip you.”

 

Long Ben was an odd fellow, somewhat reclusive (residing only to his beach-front store) and stiff in his demeanour, discourse and manner of acting. Even those these people had saved his kindred from the haunt that assailed them, he yearned for payment still. This time he demanded sufficient weaponry, and because this wasn’t much of an ask, the group obliged and gave him what he demanded. In return, he had their ship loaded with the appropriate supplies and even gave Shen - the onboard Hou-Zi - a mechanical harpoon gun of old dwarven craft.

 

With haste thereafter the crew boarded their vessel and with shouts of “Pull the sails taught,” and “Lift the anchor,” and with each consecutive order the boat was placed into operation. As the sea-wrought gust caught the taut sails it picked up some speed, the captain steered it on-course for their destination. And as their great vessel glided over frothing breakers, a firm song was on the crew’s lips!

 

The vessel - a modest ship made from a light oak with it’s masts stiff and imposing - dashed over each wave with ease. But with each breaker pushed behind it, the weather began to pick up. First came rain and wind, which the crew dealt with, with ease: disposing of gathered water over the edge, and compensating for being shoved off course with appropriate steering. As they proceeded, the weather began to get worse and worse: until a great cloud had accumulated overhead, battering down upon them an onslaught of rain, wind and lightning which struck the mast, setting it alight! The crew, frantic now, bustled the deck to tend to the storm-induced wounds that the vessel had sustained.

 

Though as they continued into unchartered territory, the waters around them seemed to take a different colour and shift around them with some oddity to its movement; not the usual bobbing of a wave. As the waters moved and caught the slivers of moonlight through the darkened mantle, one could recognise a shape- the shape of some ilk of leviathan beast. But no sooner had this been noticed it sprung from the depths revealing itself in its entirety!

 

It was a great kraken: a water-dwelling creature of undoubted magnitude, and thought to be the content of legend. It took the appearance of a squid fundamentally: a slick, black beak; two large, deep set eyes that took a hazy blue colour; and limbs that flailed overhead with wild intent. With nothing but a hideous shriek, it expelled one of it’s limbs, grasping for a crew member nearest to it. Seeing this coming, the crew in the direction of it’s limb dived aside to avoid it, whilst Shen loaded a harpoon into the gun so-graciously provided to him by Long Ben. Taking aim, he squeezed the firing mechanism and watched with delight as it flew free from the gun and embedded itself with some barbarism into the beast’s eye. With a shriek, it toppled back into the water, swimming to the otherside of the boat.

 

 

After it had reached the otherside, it splayed the waves asunder, crashing from the depths below with yet another tentacle brandished. This time it aimed to strike the helm of the ship with a firm whip of it’s limb; and this time it was successful. The sails were severed from the bow and flapped about violently amongst the storm. . .the ship began coming to a stand still.

 

The crew members from the creature’s prior attack had since recomposed themselves. Balin and Hekkaes employed the weapons they had on hand: a bow-and-arrow and a electrically charged, runic axe respectively. Laying down some supportive fire upon the beast, Shen loaded another harpoon, whilst the other crew flitted around the bow- hastedly repairing the boat with a carpentry kit given to them by Long Ben.

 

Yet another harpoon struck it’s slick flesh and it retired back into the ocean with a pained cry. It slinked to the stern of the boat, before revealing itself once more, with its limbs flailing overheard wildly. With some subsequent immediacy it began it’s assault on the stern. To quell this, Vahryu threw down a runic smoke grenade with clouded the vision of all who stood there, including the Kraken. Hereafter, it withstood a flurry of attacks, rendering it relatively lame in anything it could do post. Though, near-defeated, it threw out a limb to the side of the boat and tore into it, allowing the gushing ocean spray into the hull and the supplies that they had taken for the journey into the vast ocean blue. Confident it had left the crew to a watery death, the kraken retreated back into the water and well away.

 

With no other option, the crew had to make makeshift repairs and return to shore.

 

 

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THE SECOND VOYAGE

 

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"Old Ben is a troublesome fellow." Warned Yuort, "You could do all in the world for him and yet he'll still charge you an arm and a leg - quite literally in some instances - before he'll part with his wares. Thus is the mentality of this coastal folk. Granted, their recent issues haven't much helped." He'd nod to Vahryu and his crew, the tatters that could once be considered a cloak catching the saline air. "Here is where my aid ends." He would continue, waving to Long Ben of who he'd been staunchly negotiating with priorly. Luckily, his negotiations were not for nought; and after the crew parted with a few less-than-personal items the appropriate suppleis were granted them. This time double: enough to see them through an entire month-long voyage at sea.

 

The chores that were so wonted upon the deck of a ship preceeded setting off, and when they were fulfilled, the boat began towards the endless blanket of ocean-blue. After a near half hour at sea, the vessel began to pick up speed and dashed with great speed and vigour over the foamy breakers. The crew shared the enthusiasm of the ship with a shanty, a gay tune that lifted their hearts despite their defeat.

 

But as quickly as their blithe came, it went with haste. They had entered the waters of the beast, indicated by the raging storm that bombarded them with an assault from the heavens. This time the beast's presence was known, and with weapons ready, they awaited it to rear its ugly head.

 

And so it did.

 

With a hideous shriek it shot up from the greenish depths, it's skin slick and gelatinous; and a deep green that was unwavered, even in the grey of the day. It was heavily wounded still, as a result of the last assault, but it had no intention to give up without a fight. 

 

So they fought, exchanging blows: bolts, sword-strikes, tendrils of mana and arrows; grapples, slaps, and bites from a powerful beak. Casualties came this time, a handful from the crew, for the beast had nothing to lose. But it was not successful in protecting its habitat. And so, riddled with arrows and slathered in congealing blood it sunk into the depths: slain. 

 

[herculean_wud 3662]

reserved

[ScreamingDingo 20568]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.