White Whispers

[Bonito 2264]

White Whispers

 

 

Five of Captain Beleth’s men were sent to map out the northern tundra of Aevos. One returned. He was delirious and brought with him the diary of Leonid, a crewmate. Some of the pages were torn. When the ship disembarked, this lone survivor was not among them. It is presumed he fell overboard and drowned.

 

---

Entries

 

2nd of Malin’s Welcome

 

We’ve decided to spend the night in the hills. Hamelyn, our lead, says it’s a few days before we reach the northsnows, but he is hesitant. I hear it in his voice. This land Captain Beleth has brought us to is empty and wrong in ways I cannot say but feel. There are only ruins and great big mountains that cover the sun; even the light is not welcome. But the crew’s come to concede that a place like this has secrets many would pay a great deal for, and to this I agreed, so I volunteered alongside four others to determine what the tundras held.

 

I am the only educated man among us who can read and write, and so I was charged with recordkeeping. Sam is perhaps the only one of us looking forward to this expedition. He is our youngest, and says he’s never seen snow before, so I’ve restrained my worries the best I can for his sake. Maxwell and Reto are not so discreet. Reto tries to get under Sam’s skin with his tall tales, but if they really did frighten the boy, he hides it well.

 

 

9th of Malin’s Welcome

 

The northern expanse is greater than anticipated, we have been charting it for some days now. Sam spotted something even further north: a tower that stretches above the fog and clouds. Always in the distance. Hamelyn wants us to venture there, and I can see in Maxwell the urge to dissuade him. Ever since we reached the north, he hardly speaks, not even to taunt Sam. I cannot blame him. The nights are the worst. Wind thrashes and our fires struggle, so we fight the feeble warmth with the heat of our bodies, and as strong as Reto is, he too shivers in his sleep. 

 

What truly makes me uneasy is the nature of this place. There have been no birdsongs or wayward animals stumbling along the way, as if they know something we do not. However, when the weather picks up, I can hear faint, somber voices. I know it must be some trick of the wind, but it makes me wonder what became of the people who built the spire Hamelyn is so desperate to reach. 

 

 

14th of Malin’s Welcome

 

There has been a discovery. On the path to the spire, we found an opening  into an old structure in the hills. It felt ancient, and the stones were not as cold as expected. Hamelyn didn’t think much of it, but Maxwell and I agreed that we might learn something of that tower within and save ourselves a trip and rations. Him, Sam, and myself went inside while Hamelyn and Reto waited for us. 

 

What we found resembled a study, with rusted tools and foreign inscriptions on the walls and tables that had to be centuries old. There were piles of books with the same inscriptions, so we took some with us. A collector or warlock will find better use for them, and the price will reflect that. Maxwell and I were briefly separated from Sam as we ventured deeper. What we found I dare not record here, but we left as soon as we found the boy. For the first time, Sam looked afraid.

 

 

17th of Malin’s Welcome

 

For all the walking we have done, the spire gets further and further away from us. We are tired, our rations low, and now Sam is sick. An omen, Maxwell called it. We have stopped now that the sun is set and made camp. Hamelyn ordered Reto take Sam back in the morning when Maxwell asked to go with them. I threw my name in as well. There hasn’t been a day of peaceful rest in this tundra. We know it is only Hamelyn who wants to reach that damnable tower. We don’t know why. But we know that whatever hides here was tucked away for a reason.

 

The things we saw in that ruin have embedded themselves behind my eyes, but surely Sam has taken it the worst. I would wager whatever he saw down there is what struck him ill. An omen. Try as I might to put that day behind me, but the night does no help. It is unmistakable now. I am certain it is voices I hear whispering in the dark. We are being watched. I thank the stars we’re finally going home.

 

 

18th of Malin’s Welcome

 

We woke to Sam missing. All that was left were his wet pair of boots. Half the day spent searching for him before Hamelyn decided to set up camp again and let him come to us. Reto is still searching. We were supposed to start back today, yet we are no closer to the ship. There is one place we have not looked: the ruin. Maxwell knows it too, with his glances towards the hill when he thinks no one sees him. But neither of us wants to go back, and if Hamelyn had been down there, he would agree. Since he hadn’t, Maxwell and I are not keen to remind him.

 

While gathering kindling for the fire, I saw prints in the snow beneath the trees. Not a man’s feet, something larger. They were the first ones I’d seen on this entire expedition, and some part of me hoped they would lead to Sam, but there was something wrong about these tracks, just as there is a wrongness in every stone and branch of this place, that kept me from pursuing them. As the prints went on, their shape warped, growing more jagged and uneven. It was hiding. Whatever this thing was, it did not want to be followed, and I obliged.

 

 

20th of Malin’s Welcome

 

Two days have passed and Reto is yet to return. Sam is still missing. We cannot go any further, but Hamelyn insists on reaching the spire. Maxwell and I told him we would return to the ship, but Hamelyn only said that it meant he would find the spire alone. This cold has hampered his senses, hampered all of our senses, but I will not wait here and freeze to death. When we reach the ship, the captain will send more men, and they will find Sam and Reto.

 

We stopped a moment in the woods, but plan to continue south through the dark. The silence is awful. I long for those whispers now, the only company we were afforded, and that they might point us the right way. There is nothing for us here. I want to go home. There is nothing for us here.

 

 

[!] The final entry is not dated. The handwriting is skewed and stilted, unlike the other entries:

 

We are home. She keeps us safe.

 

 

---

 

OOC Information

 

This piece is a part of the greater northern region's story to be expanded on through eventlines. Further information can be discovered through discovery and roleplay.