UnBaed 8945 Share Posted February 11, 2022 Spoiler The cave den of Freeport [Originally by Patrick Fualwetter] Celiasul tensed her jaw as her hand brushed over her worn journal, she nearly flinched to feel the leather of its cover touch her fingers. The chatter and buzz of the inn below her felt as if it faded away, her mind returning to years she had desperately tried to drown away. She was almost successful too. Yet with the sight of this book, this diary, it all struck her at once in clarity too sharp for her liking, and at last the elf drew in a breath. The incessant ticking of Juni, a hummingbird composed of metal and gears, kept its pace on the narrow nightstand beside her, a produced sound that would drive most people insane after prolonged periods. Celia always kept Juni close to her, ever since she had been a mere child, which meant she was always in the presence of that tick, tick, ticking. Perhaps it drove her mad decades ago. Perhaps Freeport was just a hallucination in the end. It was what she wished. She should have destroyed the journal, toss it into the dark bay of Freeport as she left it once and for all. Or into one of the dozens of hearths she found herself beside at the various inns she sheltered in amidst her time traveling Yet she kept it. . . Why? Even she did not know. “Running. . .” Celiasul uttered with a soft shake of her head. “All of this time, running. There’s no escaping these memories.” Her thumb grazed the edge of the cover, and then opened the book to confront this past. The following entries are privately kept away, wishing to be forgotten. [Do not RPing knowing the information of this thread unless info is acquired through valid RP] 6th of the Sun’s Smile, 1812 Freeport has turned out to be an even stranger place than I originally thought it to be. At first glance, it’s a quaint and quiet town of sailors, traders, and wanderers; all with free spirits and a love to drink. I was rather pleased to have stumbled across this port in my travels, even though I had found it on death’s doorstep; sunburnt, weary, and with an incredibly parched throat with the taste of sand in my mouth. Fortunately, a kind gentleman by the name of Edgar had aided me. He saved me from dehydration, even though I had originally thought of him to have been a wicked illusion formed by the mirage. My debt to him was one of the reasons why I chose to settle in Freeport, though I’ve grown to like other things here that have made me wish to stick around longer. However, an unfortunate event has occurred and lasted over the past few months. A swarm of seagulls have chosen to settle around the town, their masses being quite overwhelming and… unpleasant, for many things are coated in white matter. Originally, I thought their reason to have arrived at the port was that we had, through chance, settled on their migratory path. They seemed to be like a minor pest that would have likely left within the next month, though… That is starting to seem unlikely, for they continue to linger around the town and have even begun to grow rather bold for their sizes. Just earlier, a singular gull fluttered into the tavern. Once some of the patrons grew tired of its presence and its staring, and a druidess had failed to commune with it, a mug was tossed at the seagull to scare it off. Though… it hadn’t scurried and flown away, rather, it caught the mug with its beak. And in one motion, flung it in the direction of the druidess who was blessed with quick reactions to duck out of the way. The seagull appeared genuinely angry and took flight, screeching loudly as it flew across the bay. Never before have I seen such an alarming amount of hatred and strength in a bird, which has altered my view over this matter with the seagulls greatly. Rather than them being a pest and annoyance, I am left with an ominous feeling. Something odd is going on, and I wish to learn what. Celiasul Sul’Sumana Later on that week. A swarm of seagulls looked to attack the tavern today. I had arrived back to town to find hordes of them surrounding all entrances and windows of Pelican Pete’s Pub, with everyone screaming inside. It seems I had arrived at the end of this mess, for a spell was cast that cut through a dense gathering of the gulls. It had been a strong gust of wind that easily sliced through them, even killing one. This singular woven spell had caused them to scatter and fly away. Clouds rolled in, dark and brooding ones; it seemed as if a great storm was beckoned by the spilling of this bird’s blood. The singularly slain seagull rested on the dirt path, and its corpse just… evaporated, into nothing. Since that night, the clouds haven’t let up and have only grown thicker and darker; being strong enough to blot out most light from the sun. It rains near constantly. The seagulls are not natural. Celiasul Sul’Sumana It’s bad luck to kill a seabird. 18th of the Deep Cold, 1813 The seagulls are not natural, none of this is. A wretched darkness, a horrible secret, clings and lurks over this town and its residence. What shall come of us, if we do not absolve this curse? Earlier this evening, or afternoon, or morning… I cannot tell the time anymore in this town, I long to see the sun when I wake. Either way… The gulls gathered in the square; for what reason? I know naught, as I had arrived at the square to find some residents screaming at the tavernkeep, Varon Draskovich, to not attempt any harm upon the gulls. It’s bad luck to kill a seabird, afterall. Everyone began to grow uneasy at the growing numbers of the gulls surrounding them, watching them, and even mocking now with their squawking. I swear that I can sometimes hear menacing laughs when they open their beaks, or perhaps it is my nerves getting the best of me. Everyone decided that they didn’t like standing in the open with their swarm, and slowly opted one by one to make way for Pelican Pete’s. However, the gulls followed us. It was as if they were forming a phalanx with their numbers, walking toward us and even hovering over one another and squawking; they had surely found some of our unease and fear amusing. Fortunately, (for us, at least), a group of druids entered the town behind them. I have noticed that these seagulls haven’t taken kindly in the slightest toward druids, especially when they attempt to commune with them. Such is what these druids had tried to do, which caused their entire group to be harrassed by the swarm. None of us could do anything to help, though I opted to take action at this moment. There has got to be a way to learn something from these gulls, it has been nagging at my thoughts for months. Every druid has failed to communicate with and calm them, and killing them only leaves their bodies to turn to nothing - which leaves nothing for me to study and examine; therefore, I decided to remove my coat and grab an unsuspecting seagull alive. It screamed and squealed loudly, beating its wings as hard as it could; putting up a most intense fight and struggle, but I maintained my hold and carried it, with haste, into the shelter of the tavern. A crate was fetched for me, in which I locked it in. As I was shoving the gull into the chest, I heard a voice. “It’s bad luck to kill a seabird!” That thing, that supposed seagull spoke to me, quoting the phrase we have repeated so reverently at me as a snide, mocking remark; taunting me as I struggled to trap it. But I persisted, and locked the creature in the chest. I could hear it thrashing around within, ceaselessly thudding and banging against its wood confinements as I heavily sat myself down in a nearby chair. I felt lost in a daze while I eyed the chest, watching as it bounced and shifted with the seagull writhing around within it. Everyone around was disturbed by the fact that the seagull spoke a whole phrase, which further solidified our beliefs that this whole situation wasn’t natural. A million thoughts and questions raced through my mind about what I ought to do next with this bird, to try and study it. If it can speak, that means there is hope of me questioning it. However… My pondering didn’t last long, as I eventually heard a sickening snap. Silence followed. When the hoard of birds calmed outside, I realized the shift in atmosphere in the town… A heavy, and near impenetrable fog had crept into town. From my view in the tavern, I could usually see my workshop; however, I could barely make out its lights now with this mist. All I heard from within was the lulling sound of the waves and dark waters, and the seagulls in the distance. I trekked across the docks and through the town to get to my workshop, accompanied by a handful of friends, them being; Limetta, Edgar the Barkeep, and the wayward-princess Nataliya of Haense. They watched me as I opened that crate again, all of us practically holding our breath to see what had become of that trapped seagull within. There was nothing. Nothing, except the putrid stench of sulfur. 12th of the Amber Cold, 1813 UZKAR - KULZET - RONOTH - Zathairn. . . Kiiztria- The Black Cat, The Goat. .The High Hells What dark secrets have I encountered? The way they all screamed, the way that woman screamed. How she spoke in death- illegible scribbling The red, the red around the fire wasn’t embers- NOTHING was ordinary. Wretched and profane, I close my eyes and I can still see it, I can still smell it, hear it. The brine, the smoke, and blood, and sulfur. . . . . . . This town is cursed, I know that now. A ghostly raven loomed over us all, screeching in a voice that could drive a man inside for how it touched my ears. I could hardly listen to it, I could hardly try to remember its otherworldly voice for I was reduced to naught but the definition of panic just as the seagulls were after the flames of that pyre exploded. I wanted nothing more than to be leagues away from the port, to wake from this living nightmare that was becoming my life in that town. It wouldn’t end. A pentagram was burnt into the soil at the base of the pire, beneath that spectral raven. And from it, a plume of even more seagulls bursted from it and shot into the sky. Hundreds of more had come and together they filled the darkened sky, swirling and flying around in a circle over the entire port. For a moment, I had thought I was paying witness to the end of everything. That I would be one of the first to perish as our world finally entered into darkness. . . but then the fires of the field died down, leaving the pentagram burned into the ground, and the seagulls dispersed and flocked to the nooks and crannies of the town. A silence like no other crept over everything. 18th of Snow’s Maiden, 1813 Capturing seagulls is proving to be more challenging than anticipated, despite their increased numbers. Despite taking on the appearance of wharf rats, there is a cynical intelligence lurking within their beady eyes. They mock me, and every now and then it sounds as if they’re snickering at those unsettled by them. No matter how I feel toward them, it is bad luck to kill a seabird. The saying bears truth to it, for should someone happen to kill a seagull. . . a black mark appears in the palm of their hand and they are cursed. With what? I do not know. Mak has acquired the mark, which has made him useful to help me catch a gull. Yet he’s always been rather brutal in handling them, either crushing them in his grip or drowning one in the bay. Since he is already cursed, it hasn’t seemed to harm him further to take these risks. When a gul is taken or harmed, however, it excites the rest in the vicinity. They take flight and their mocking and shrill cries fill the air. Would they all grow violent if we manage to successfully take one alive? When a gull has been killed, a black sludge comes from their body and becomes absorbed into its slayer’s palm. Having given up on my attempt to capture and question one of these creatures, and with Mak’s heavy hand. . . I’ve decided to send him to acquire a flask filled with this blackened ooze for study. However, I am dubious in how successful I shall be, given how that sludge soon bursted into flame upon Mak’s arm. The whole time, those gulls cackled. . . 1815, Little information is to be found anywhere about these High Hells, nor these princes. . I fear speaking of it much, or even writing it here now for the tales my father would tell me of another fiery world he ventured into when I was still so young; the way of entry being death itself. To know of the secrets inside, you are marked for death, he once said to me. Is this the same realm? . . . . . At last, I have finally encountered someone who may have an idea of what I speak of. A woman by the name of Valindra, and her partner Zelios. Yet even then, our connections are uncertain. My descriptions reminded her of a “demonic race” she described as Naztherak, a term I’ve never heard of before. All she could tell me of such creatures was their ability to manipulate a curious form of fire, and that they did it in service of someone from a fiery realm. There are no more leads. Nothing. ______________________________________________________________ OOC: I was looking through old documents and found some notes I had my elf keep during the Freeport eventline in the summer, polished them up and decided to share it since I forgot to post it before. It’s bad luck to kill a seabird. 17 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
E__V__O 1984 Share Posted February 11, 2022 Spoiler This is a nice post, just remember it is bad luck to kill a seabird. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
doreebear 601 Share Posted February 11, 2022 The aged princess sighed again, recalling how she had made new acquaintances in Freeport, one of whom was Celiasul, and others along the road. However, living in that dismal town, as described in the records, was not pleasant. The small princess would be seen wandering around the docks with her husband. "You know, your eyes have always reminiscent me of the ocean, which is one of my favorite things." spoke Petyr. a simple smile came forth from the princess. "Aw Pety-AH!" she cried as she plummeted into the water as the wooden planks caved in beneath under her feet. — "Nat, hurry up! Locate the others." Celiasul had just found that the seagull had turned to sulfur, so the elfless hurried the woman out the door. The princess would falter as she walked out the door. "Da!" she exclaimed as she turned to her left and noticed a floating flower pot. "What THE FU-" yelled she as her eyes looked upon that terracotta jug, which slammed into her face and knocked her unconscious. — "please! don't throw the rock at them, DONT!" The entire town begged, an elderly beggar who had picked up a rock and aimed it at a seagull, then dropped his arm before flinging it at the seagulls. "GET INSIDE THE TAVERN!" screamed Varon Draskovic, the group of Wicks and others scurrying into the pub as the flock of seagulls soared their way. "OH GOD THEY GOT CASIMIR!" Petyr yelled. "I'm right here father!" "oh-" "let's use him as bait!" Cried Candle "NO!" — "I don't have anything left." Petyr, the previous Duke of Valwyck, responded to Darius, whom he had just lost to in a dice game. "Fine! I'll take your wife!" "What?! No! You can't have her!" He then gripped her arm. "Your boy, then." "hmmmm." "PETYR!" "I wasn't going to do it!" — "it wants a sacrifice. . . " Candle then grasped Casimir. "I'm sorry little one." "No, put him DOWN CANDLE!" the princess barked angerly. "GET TO THE BASEMENT YOU MORONS!" Juniper shouted in a panicked manner. "I'm not above hitting a woman Nat." spoke Candle. "Da? fuckin' do it then! hit me!" "No no no no! please don't hit her." a Panicked Petyr cried along trying to remove his hot-headed wife from the situation as the seagulls attempted to enter the tavern. — The scene will transition to the entire group of freeport being knocked back by an inhuman blast from the spawn of iblees that sprang from the so-called pentagram. — Finally, the following scene changed to the party looking up at the sky as a hideous pile of flesh formed, with fangs and tentacles covering its body before plunging into the water and swimming away... Nataliya would be seen with her eyes wide and her jaw agape, dead-panning towards Candle, the person who had accidently summed the monster. "Uh-" he said before smacking his lips. "That's uh- that's my bad...." the wayward Princess shook her head again as all those memories flooded back into her mind. "It's bad luck to kill a seabird. . ." 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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