A group of townsfolk gathered near the fountain, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. The others listened, looking concerned, while a man in a fisherman’s cap gestured enthusiastically. Elec’s keen ears caught fragments of the conversation as he walked. The fisherman’s voice carried over the quieter responses of the others, his tone anxious and conspiratorial.
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t no normal storm. The clouds didn’t move natural-like, and the wind…it howled like something alive. And the lights! Bright as day, they were, shining under the waves! Shinin’, but givin’ off no light if you can envision it…” The fisherman said.
Another voice chimed in, a woman’s, whisper-quiet but firm.
“Hush, Eryth. It was nothing more than a typhoon. You’ll scare the children with your tales. Ain’t a day under the sun this season that a storm doesn’t come rushing through.”
“No, you don’t understand. This was different. The sea itself seemed angry. My boat rocked so hard I thought it’d split apart, and I swear I saw shadows moving beneath the water. Enormous shadows.”
An older man with a cane shook his head, saying, “You’ve been drinking too much of that spiced wine, Eryth. Sea monsters…and this close to the reefs…and ghost ships, bah! Just tales to keep the gullible awake at night.”
Eryth refused to back down, his voice growing more desperate.
“Laugh all you like, but I know what I saw. Mark my words. Something bad is coming, and it’s got the ocean restless.”
Elec’s ears perked at the mention of strange lights beneath the waves and shadows in the water, echoing his own experiences on the journey here. Eryth, the fisherman, continued to gesture animatedly for another moment, but soon left the fountain with a frustrated sigh. Some shook their heads skeptically, others with worried glances as they continued to chat and fill their buckets. He shuffled away from the fountain toward the edge of the square, muttering to himself as he slung his net over his shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir,” Elec said from a short distance. “Could you spare a moment?”
Eryth stopped and blinked up at Elec several times, his weathered face a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
“Who in the Bay are you? What do you want, Stranger? I’ve had enough scoffing for one day if that’s what you’re here for.”
“I am Elec and just in from Hinterson’s Vale. As you can see, I’m gifted with sensitive ears, and couldn’t help but overhear a little of what you experienced just recently. I’d be willing to buy a drink in exchange for hearing this story.”
Eryth eyed Elec carefully for a long moment, sizing him up with a skeptical gaze. The fisherman’s hands tightened slightly around his net, but after a pause, he let out a resigned sigh.
“From the Vale? Well, that makes sense. You seem like an earnest enough fellow,” he muttered, lowering the net a bit. “I suppose I could use a drink to take the edge off. Not much use for tales if no one else’ll listen, eh?”
He gestured toward the Salty Gull with a crooked finger, his movements slow but purposeful.
“You’re looking for answers, huh? A lot of people are. Alright, let’s head there. But don’t go thinking you’re gonna hear some fancy story…just the truth, as I saw it.”
The two began making their way toward the tavern, the salty breeze tugging at their clothes. As they walked, Eryth glanced over his shoulder, casting one last wary look at the crowd by the fountain before speaking again.
“Now, I’ve been fishing these waters for years, lad. Been through my fair share of storms. But this…this was something different. The storm came outta nowhere, and I swear I saw things beneath the surface. Big things moving with purpose. I don’t know if they were monsters or something else. But I’ll tell you this: I’ve been hearing whispers about things, ancient things, waking up in these waters. Things that don’t belong here.”
He stopped, his voice lowering as he continued with an edge of unease.
“And the lights. Never seen anything like ‘em. They flickered over and under the waves like they were… calling to something.”
As Elec and Eryth reached the door of The Salty Gull, Eryth stopped again, looking Elec in the eyes.
“So, that’s the gist of it. Make of it what you will. But you’re not the first to ask around about it. I’m not the only one who’s seen things.”
The fisherman surprised Elec by giving the full story before even setting foot inside the establishment, let alone waiting for the ale in question. If he had been a more scrupulous man, Elec could’ve bid him ‘good day’ right there. He shook this notion from his head and pushed the tavern door open. The sound of laughter and clinking mugs greeted them from inside.
With the smell of roasting meat and the tang of the sea in the air, The Salty Gull was a cozy, well-lit tavern. The memory of the Westwind Inn back in Hinterson’s Vale immediately struck him, causing another slight pang of homesickness. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and the floorboards creaked underfoot as Elec entered. The warmth inside contrasted with the coolness of the coastal air, and the sound of murmured conversation and laughter filled the space. Still, much like at home, the patrons spared him a glance or two before returning to their drinks and meals.
To Elec’s left, there was a long bar where a burly barkeep served drinks to a few rough-looking sailors, his large hands quick as he refilled mugs and poured spirits. Their voices were low and gruff as they talked among themselves, one of them laughing too loudly. Captain Jorn, Ograrn, Gorlin, and the rest of them must still be offloading their shipments, he thought to himself, not recognizing any of the patrons.
A group of fishermen took a table near the fire, hunched over their food and speaking in hushed tones. Their weathered faces showed the mark of years spent on the sea, their clothes heavy with salt and grime.
A pair of travelers occupied a table near the far wall: an older man and a younger woman, their clothing elegant but worn from travel. They whispered to one another, keeping to themselves, but now and then they glanced around the room as if they were watching for something or someone.
Eryth gestured toward an empty table near the hearth.
“Quite the homey place, eh? Let’s sit here. It’s quieter, and the fire’s good for a fisherman’s bones.”
As Elec observed the well-dressed pair at the far wall. He noticed they sat with an air of quiet sophistication, despite the worn condition of their clothing. The older, gray-haired man’s sharp gaze flicked over the room, while the younger, red-haired woman’s expression was more relaxed, her eyes scanning the tavern. They looked as if they’d been traveling for some time. Their clothes were well-made but bore the signs of wear from long journeys.
Elec’s clothes, though expensive and finely crafted, now looked like beggar’s rags in comparison and bore the clear signs of recent battle. He felt his clothes should’ve looked more like theirs, worn yet prestigious. The patches and frayed edges marked his attire as having been through a great deal. And the silt-mud color did not help matters. He wondered if he might find a proper tailor or outfitter in town to replace his tattered apparel.
Eryth raised his hand to signal the barkeep, interrupting his thoughts. After a moment, a young serving girl noticed and came over, her apron askew but with a friendly smile on her face.
“Coming right…up…” she said cheerfully enough, glancing between Elec and Eryth before shaking her head. “What can I get you…gentlemen? A drink to start, or something to eat?”
Eryth, already reclined in his seat, adjusted himself and flicked his hand dismissively.
“A couple of ales, lass. And make it quick. It’s been a long day, already.”
The serving girl nodded and hurried off to fetch the drinks, leaving Elec and Eryth. The fisherman kicked up his feet towards the fire. Elec took a moment to observe her, noting the lack of distinct grace the young woman from the mainland seemed to be missing. She’s quick and efficient, her eyes scanning the room even as she carried out her tasks. Her gait was light and suggested experience in navigating through the crowded tavern without tripping over the many legs, stools, and tables in her path.
The faint lines around her eyes hinted at long hours spent working. She adjusted her apron as she moved, perhaps out of habit, or to keep it from getting caught on something. A slight weariness showed in her posture, but it didn’t detract from the warmth of her smile when she interacted with the customers.
As she passed by the bar and the row of sailors, Elec caught a brief exchange of looks between her and one man: a sailor with a weathered face and a heavy beard. The moment seemed fleeting, but there was a glint of something in her eyes before she turned away, a glance that might suggest familiarity or something more.
“Aye, she’s a good girl, but much like everyone else here, she’s seen a lot. Life on the frontier docks brings in all sorts, and each one pays a visit to the Gull. You’re not the only unique fellow come through here. Had a young musician in here a few nights back with horns growing out of his head.” The fisherman said. ”Nice enough guy, if a little pretentious.”
The serving girl returned with two tankards of ale, placing them on the table before Elec and Eryth. She offered Elec a brief smile as she set down the drinks, but her eyes scanned the crowd.
“Here you are, sir. If you need anything else, just holler.”
“Absolutely…” Elec said, handing her a couple of extra coins for good measure. “And may I have your name? Mine’s Elec, by the way.”
The serving girl paused when Elec handed her the coins. She looked down at them, then back up at him, her expression softening as she fully took him in. Surprise gleamed in her eyes, but she masked it with a polite smile.
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she took the coins. “Most don’t tend to ask names around here, but since you did… it’s Tilda.”
She glanced around, as if making sure no one was paying too much attention, then leaned in, lowering her voice.
“You seem like you’re new to town, Elec. Things can get a bit…rough around here. Just keep that in mind.”
She stood up straighter, offering a small smile, but her eyes were sharper now, as if weighing him up once more.
“I’ll be around if you need anything. Take care.”
She turned to move off, but not before giving him one last glance, a faint flicker of curiosity in her gaze. Elec returned his focus to Eryth, training his concentration on the fisherman before continuing. While the older man had given him the summary, he needed more of the details.
“How long ago was this storm?”
When Elec asked about the storm, Eryth’s brow furrowed, his eyes casting downward and to the side. The fisherman took a deep breath, his hands tightening around his mug. The fisherman spoke quietly now, the jovial tone replaced by a trace of concern.
“Several nights ago, just around midnight. It was a strange one, lad, as it didn’t give no warning…just came outta nowhere. I’ve been sailing these waters my whole life, and I ain’t seen anything like it. Not just green lightning like the meaner storms, but purple and green. Like nature itself been perverted.”
His gaze shifted, and Elec could sense a flicker of unease from him. He’s not just scared of the storm itself, but also of what may have triggered it or what might wait out in the depths, he thought.
“I was out near the reef, just minding my business, when the winds picked up, and the sea started getting rough. And then… the lights. I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but I can’t. Something’s not right with the water. It’s almost as if… I don’t know… something’s calling out there.”
“The shadows in the sea…were they sea serpents? I ask because I recently encountered a couple. They were almost the end of me.”
Eryth’s face paled slightly as Elec mentioned the sea serpents. His hands, wrapped around his tankard, trembled for just a moment before he steadied himself. He leaned in, lowering his voice as if to keep the conversation from being overheard. His brow furrowed in thought, his eyes distant for a moment.
“I can’t recall for sure, Traveler. I didn’t get a good look at whatever was down there. But whatever it was… it moved like it had a purpose. Something more than just the usual sea creatures. Maybe something drove the serpents from their normal waters.”
Elec could sense the fisherman’s anxiety creeping up once again. The fisherman’s brow furrowed harder, and his face darkened as he tried to find the words.
“The serpents could be part of it. I’ve heard talk… rumors, you know? Of creatures like that, more than just a few wandering around. But these, they seemed more…deliberate. Like they were waiting for something.”
He glanced around nervously, making sure no one was paying attention, and leaned closer to Elec.
“You say you fought a couple of ‘em that damn near ended you? That’s bad news, lad. Real bad. These creatures. Those serpents, the lights, the storm…It’s all tied together somehow. But there’s more to it than just a storm or monsters in the deep. People are startin’ to whisper about ancient forces, things from before. I don’t know who’s behind it, but I don’t like the direction this is all heading.”
His voice dropped even lower as he finished, Elec himself having to lean closer to hear.
“If you’ve seen ‘em up close, I’d advise you to stay far away from the waters. There’s more out there than just serpents, and whatever’s waking up out there, it’s not friendly.”
Eryth’s face shifts again, filled with fear and doubt, but also a sense of recognition. Elec drew out his Mariner’s map.
“If you can recall, where in the bay was this reef?”
Eryth’s eyes flicked down to the map as Elec unfolded it, his brow furrowing as he studied the lines and markings. He took a moment, his finger tracing along the edges of the map, trying to remember the exact location.
“Hmm, let me think…That reef… It’s not too far from here, but it’s a tricky stretch of water. Most ships avoid it unless they know the tides well. There’s a cluster of rocks, sharp ones, just past the outer edge of the bay. The water’s shallow there, dangerous if you’re not careful.”
He pointed to a spot on the map, open waters on the far eastern side of the bay, the chart showing the waters that appear more turbulent.
“This reef here, it’s right at the edge where the current picks up. If you keep going past the point of the cove, head south a bit more, and there’s a deep channel before you hit the rocks. I remember seeing something unusual in that area. The lights beneath the water…could be related to those shadows you saw. But I’d be careful, lad. The water there changes with the tides, and it can turn dangerous real quick.”
Eryth paused, his finger still hovering over the spot on the map. His expression hardened as he looked up at Elec.
“Mark it down, but don’t rush in there alone. You’ve seen what’s out there. If you’re planning to go deeper into the bay, get help. And not just sailors. You’re gonna need all sorts out there. Warriors. Wizards. Priests. The sea doesn’t give up its secrets easily, and some things…well, some things are best left undisturbed.”
The fisherman seemed worried about what lay in that area, though there’s also a hint of knowing something more, something that remained unsaid.
Elec marked the spots on the map and returned it to his pack.
“Thank you, Eryth.”
Eryth nodded appreciatively, his features softening as Elec spoke. He straightened up, took a deep breath, and gave Elec a half-smile as he rose to leave.
“Aye, lad. You stay safe out there.”
“You stay safe out there on the sea as well. I hope to hear more pleasant stories from you next time we meet.”
“I’ll do my best to stay safe… though, I reckon the sea’s got its plans for me, like it does for all of us. But I’ll hold you to that…next time, let’s hope the stories are less dark, eh?”
He raised his tankard in a silent salute before taking a last hearty swig of ale. As he drank, Elec could sense a momentary flare of resolve. A desire to move on from the fear and uncertainty he’s carrying, if only for a while.
The sounds of chatter, clinking mugs, and laughter seemed to return to full volume as Eryth stepped outside, shuffling off into the day. Elec continued to drink his ale while taking the moment to update his journal. Elec spotted the mercenaries in a corner near the bar, with their dark-colored equipment, rough demeanor, and hardened expressions. They were deep in conversation, the clink of mugs punctuating their words, but they didn’t seem to notice Elec just yet.
Elec took a seat at the bar, near enough to overhear the mercenaries without drawing too much attention. He raised a hand to Tilda as she passed, drawing her attention. His stomach had reasserted dominance over the investigation for the moment.
“Hello again, good lady Tilda. A meal of what’s best and a mug of something equally good, please.”
“Hi, Elec. Needing something else, are ya?” she said in a friendly, quiet tone, though her eyes flickered with the slightest hint of curiosity. “A meal and a drink, coming right up.”
She gestured to the bartender, a tall, muscular man with a well-worn face, who nodded in acknowledgment. Tilda then leaned in, lowering her voice so only Elec could hear.
“The mercenaries are eyeing the Silver Drake situation closely,” She said with a touch of wariness in her voice. “They might be good for muscle, but be careful. They won’t share unless they think it’s worth their coin.”
She straightened, giving him a subtle but knowing glance before turning to the bartender to place his order. The bartender nodded again and moved off to prepare Elec’s meal and drink. Elec watched the young lady as she went, a newfound interest in her forming. He had been here only a moment and had made quite a good impression on her. She was rather plain compared to Dalia back home, but still she seemed to keep a lot of tabs on the comings and goings of the patrons of the inn. He couldn’t help but notice the swell of her hips and the slight swish they made as she seemed to slide around the sudden movements of the patron. She did not move as gracefully as Dalia, but she was very deft and precise.
Elec shifted his focus back to the mercenaries in question. His father had warned that even with the right amount of coin, the wrong kind would still turn on you in a heartbeat. The Waveshear survivor also gave a warning: people like him were taken and forced into slavery. There seemed to be something different about the group. Their leader in particular. While Ilsa had been the first mate of Captain Brunaulf back home, he hadn’t heard of a female-led mercenary group. Then again, he was not familiar with mercenary organizations at all. The tall, scarred lady intrigued him as she had passed him on the dock. Her gaze lingered on him a fraction more than the other mercenaries had. The group sat in the corner and remained deep in conversation, oblivious to Elec’s presence, though a few of them glanced around the room. Their demeanor was more businesslike than casual, and they seemed to discuss something with an intensity that suggested they were waiting for something. Perhaps more information on the missing Silver Drake, he thought, or some other task they were pursuing.
Tilda returned with a roasted chicken, accompanied by carrots and small potatoes. His mind raced as he continued to write, piecing together the various leads, and he couldn’t help but feel that the web of events was pulling him deeper into something larger and more dangerous than he’d originally thought.
While writing, he listened to the mercenaries’ conversation as they continued their low but animated discussion. His sharp ears caught finer points, and their words, though clearer, seemed less professional as he concentrated. He couldn’t help but notice that the lady who was in charge of them, the scarred one, was nowhere to be seen. While he had an idea to talk to her directly, he did not wish to talk to the other members of the group. One mercenary, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running along his chin, spoke up in a gruff, commanding voice.
“…and I think the ship was carrying something. It wasn’t just cargo. Whatever it was, we need to find it before those others do. We’ve got one shot, and if we don’t get there first…”
Another mercenary, a younger man with a thin beard, interrupted him.
“You sure it’s worth the risk? That other captain said the reefs are cursed, and some sailors saw strange things in the water. What if we’re just chasing ghosts?”
The scarred man glared at him, saying, “Ghosts or not, we’re being paid to find it. And we’re not backing down from a fight just because some fish get scared. If it’s cursed, it’s all the more reason to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
The younger man leans in closer, lowering his voice.
“What about the artifacts? You think the captain knows what they were carrying?”
The older mercenary’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. We find that shipwreck, we find the treasure. We find the treasure, we get our payday.”
Elec felt the tension rise in the conversation as the mercenaries debated their next move, but he could sense that they weren’t entirely in sync. There’s some apprehension mixed in with their determination. His eyes followed the group as they rose to leave, before drifting around to follow Tilda for a moment as she moved through the tavern, tending to another table. Her confidence and effortless charm stood out even in the lively atmosphere of the Salty Gull.
The travelers still occupied a small table in the room’s secluded corner, near the far wall. The older Human man sat with his back straight. His tanned skin complemented his elegant yet weathered blue-gray coat. He periodically swept his sharp eyes around the room, as if always on alert. The younger Elf woman, fair-skinned, roughly the same age as he was, was dressed in travel-worn finery, and her fiery red hair caught the glow of the nearby lantern. She leaned in as she spoke to the older man, her voice low and measured. Their demeanor suggested they were not just casual travelers, but probably adventurers or mercenaries as well. The older man’s posture and the way he kept a hand resting near his belt, where Elec could just spot a dagger or sword, were a clear sign of someone who knew the value of being prepared. The lady glanced toward the entrance, her expression tense, as if expecting someone to arrive.
They both sipped from small cups of tea or perhaps a mild drink, and though they didn’t seem entirely closed off, their guarded demeanor made it clear they were cautious about interacting with others. The older man’s gaze flickered by, then caught hold of Elec’s, but it seemed more of an assessing glance than a direct acknowledgment.
*
“The guild master was still overseeing the recently delivered shipment,” Seraphine said, a mixture of relief and anxiousness in her voice. “When more sailors start piling in, then he should be free to meet with us.”
Roderick took another sip of what the young barmaid called ‘tea.’ He had learned when they first arrived that the frontier lands possessed a unique and loose interpretation of the concept of tea. For them, the beverage often did not necessarily contain actual tea leaves but could consist of any number of boiled herbs and fruits. While his favorite not-really-tea-tea had been an apple cider concoction from Heathe, the drink they were entertaining contained barley and some other choice herbs. Not wholly unpleasant, but not a worthy drink either.
“I’ll try again later. Hopefully, when more of the ships have finished offloading. This place might become a little more rough than expected. I saw three or four ships in the docks.” Roderick said, looking into his glass. “Sailors back east tended to be worst the first night back into harbor. I imagine it won’t be much different here. It’s probably a good thing you aren’t playing here tonight.”
“Well, even though I am playing the Seafarer tonight, I’ll definitely add a set here tomorrow night. Sailors fresh off the deck are always good for a coin. I’m getting the feeling that the Ashborn was just a little too impatient.”
“Or inexperienced. Much like the mercenary group over there.”
The group of sellswords rose from their seats and filed out of the inn’s door. Seraphine watched the group for a moment.
“What happened to their leader?” She asked.
“I don’t know, and I haven’t bothered to ask. The rest of them are still about their task, but without their leader, they don’t seem nearly as composed as they were before.”
“Yeah. Just a bunch of regular sellswords.”
Roderick’s eyes followed them out the door until something else caught his gaze. Roderick gripped the hilt of his sword, cracking it from the scabbard, and drew the blade just an inch out of the throat. He noted the dull shine reflecting the flickering light of the fireplace and the stillness in the hilt. Seraphine looked back at him, his action surprising her. She stared first at the partially drawn blade, then at the unblinking and stone-like demeanor of his face. She was about to ask what the problem was, but he stifled it by kicking the side of her foot. Seraphine turned her head and watched in subtle awe as the stranger rose and crossed the common room to them.
Roderick could not believe that he had not seen it sooner. He was also surprised that the main room did not erupt in alarm as it rose. His sword’s handle and hilt were still, which equally surprised him. The creature approached them with ease but also with very slight nervousness. It was a Rava’kin: A mythical beast of illusions and deception. The overall appearance is some sort of blend of tiger and man. The distinctly feline face was a mix of orange and white fur, accented by black stripes. Its emerald-green eyes regarded him with quiet respect while still examining him and the position of his right hand under the table. It is young, Roderick thought, and stands about a head taller than myself, but without the same thickness of frame. His forearms and the tightness of his arms under his sleeves indicated he possessed nothing but lean muscle, signifying strength and speed. Although the clothes he wore were originally expensive and of expert quality, they had been ruined. Someone patched them up around the left side and shoulder and redyed them an unpleasant brown color, evidence of a hard-fought and deadly battle. He had never encountered one himself, but had heard campfire stories amongst mercenaries and adventurers encountering such creatures. Each ended in disaster for the central character of the story. The creature must recognize that I see it for what it truly is, he thought for the moment. The Rava’kin paused as if sensing the fighter’s tension, but continued walking towards them. That, or it recognized someone superior to it in skill and prowess. Holding a wooden tankard in both clawed hands, the creature nodded more to itself than to the swordsman before speaking. Still, everything seemed off with it, himself, and the whole situation. He felt as if he were dreaming due to the lack of response its presence garnered. It glanced briefly at Seraphine before focusing its attention on the swordsman.
“I’m sorry to bother you two, but I am new to this town as well,” The Rava’kin said in a voice deep and velvety. “Would you two be willing to entertain some company unannounced?”
Roderick’s sharp eyes narrowed as he continued to assess the creature. His hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it further. After a moment, he gave it a curt nod, his tone polite but guarded.
“That depends,” He said evenly. “You don’t look like the usual sort that drifts in here. What brings you to our table, Stranger?”
Seraphine looked over the Rava’kin as well, her expression more surprised and curious than wary. Her feet shifted beneath her to rise and clear the chair if necessary, but otherwise remained still, studying him. It took a moment for the bard, let alone himself, to find their words once more. She gave him a smile and motioned with an open hand.
“You’ve got the look of someone who’s seen a thing or two. We’re not opposed to a bit of conversation, but we’d like to know your name first, and what it is you’re after.”
Despite the creature’s guarded demeanor, there was no outright hostility. It was clear he was used to being an outsider, but presented himself as no one any different from anyone else in the public house itself. It placed a hand on his chest and spoke as politely as a page.
“I am Elec Miraelavar of Hinterson’s Vale, and I couldn’t help but notice that you all have the look of travelers yourself. I recently arrived from my small island and hoped to find someone who could help me.”
Seraphine’s breath caught slightly, and her eyes widened at the mention of the region, but the bard did not rush to talk about it. Roderick’s eyes flicked back to the cat-creature as she motioned to the chair in front of him. The Rava’kin sat at their table, placing the mug down before he continued.
“I’m certain you folk felt the typhoon out here about a week ago.”
