Captain Arven stood at the prow of his galleon, the wrinkles beneath his eyes twitching as he eyed the rough waters. Overhead, dark clouds flickered with the crack of lightning, bringing light to the otherwise pitch black ocean.
As the thunder rumbled past, his men hurried about the ship, fastening any loose barrels or crates, and preparing to lower the sails. Yet a few still cast glances across the water, their attention drawn to a foreign ship, teetering on the edge of the world.
Captain Arven squinted his eyes, searching the ship for any signs of life. Two of its masts were snapped, and laid crooked against the deck, their sails snapping the frigid wind, while a heavy fog clung to the deck, curling up from the abyss that hid beyond. The only thing keeping it afloat were several jagged rocks, pierced through its hull. Yet with every passing minute, the icy waves battered against its side, threatening to pull it under.
Captain Arven scanned the ship once more, his gaze catching on the ship's strange figurehead. It resembled a foul beast, carved from ash wood, with scales amidst fur, and fangs as long as daggers. It rose from a den of stone, claws stretched out to the ocean.
His first mate, Elwen, shifted from foot to foot, the sea frost crunching beneath his boots.
"Do you see what I mean, Captain? Have you ever witnessed such a horrid creature?" Elwen asked, tightening his jacket. "It's unnatural... And I need not mention the stones plunged through the ship, do I? The way they pierced through, the ship would have had to come from the abyss itself."
Captain Arven's knuckles whitened as he gripped the railing, but he shook his head. "Come now, Elwen. You're allowing your worries to run wild. You know as well I that nothing lies beyond the fog. How would a ship have sailed from there?"
"Stranger things have happened, but perhaps you have a point..." Elwen said. He bit his chapped lips. "What would you have us do?"
The captain scratched the grey stubble growing along his chin, running his wary gaze down the ship once more. "For now, we'll change course, and check for survivors. If there are any, I want to know who they are, and what they're doing out here. If not, we'll gather what we can and burn the ship."
Elwen frowned. "Are you certain that's wise? With the storm fast approaching,and the-"
Arven arched his brow. "That's why there is no time to argue, Elwen. We don't know how long the storm will last. But I doubt that ship will last until it ends. If there are people still aboard, we cannot leave them to fend for themselves."
Elwen lowered his head. "Aye, Captain. I'll get the men set on course."
Arven stood back as Elwen called out the new orders to the crew, and the ship tilted, carving its way through the waves. Overhead, the storm raged closer, brightening for a brief second with a bolt of lightning, before falling dark again as the roar of thunder echoed off the sea.
As they neared the wreckage, wooden planks and knotted chests knocked against the bow. The waves rose and fell with eerie shadows as the men swung their lanterns out, keeping rope ladders close at hand.
Those with more experience took it upon themselves to grab hooks and bring out the gangplank, each one awaiting the signal to board. Elwen held up his hand and glanced at Captain Arven. When he gave a slight nod, the first mate waved his hand, and the hooks were cast, soaring over the sea.
Each man held his breath as the first few lines splashed into the waves, falling just short. Then, a series of thumps resounded as the rest clattered onto the ship's deck, before snapping taut as they caught on the stairs and railings.
Arven descended to the main deck as the two ships were pulled together. Elwen followed behind, fidgeting with the threads on his sleeves. He jumped as the gangplank thumped, bridging the gap, and glanced around.
"Captain. Are you certain we should do this? Surely, if there had been survivors, we would have heard them by now."
Arven rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "They could be injured, and unable to call out. There's only one way to be certain. If you'd prefer, you can remain here and keep an eye out for anyone we might have missed."
Elwen rubbed his palms with a shiver, eyeing the ashen figurehead. After a moment, he glanced at Arven's sword, before shaking his head. "No… No, I think I'll go with you."
"Very well then, Choose eight of the men, and follow me," Arven said. The gangplank creaked beneath his boots. "And have them bring the cloth wraps. I don't know what we'll find over there, but I'd like to be prepared."
The thick plank wobbled as Arven crossed over, the seawater splashing his legs. The pale light of his lantern cast the ship with a sick glow, worsened by the squeal of rusted hooks and pulleys. Several icicles fell as he grabbed a rope to step down, shattering against the quiet deck.
Arven stepped over the ice, and scanned the shifting shadows. "Hello? Is anyone there? We came across your ship while sailing to Telmuth. We can offer safe passage, and aid to those who need it. Hello?"
Silence answered his call as he searched the crooked boards and tangled lines strewn across the deck. Finally, his gaze settled on the strange figurehead, whose beady gaze seemed to peer into his soul. He scowled, and took a few steps forward, only to pause as something cracked beneath his boot.
Captain Arven lifted his foot, only to find the remains of a stone rat, snapped in two and chiseled from an unfamiliar black stone. He picked up the front half, amazed by the details put into its whiskers and crooked teeth.
'Perhaps they're a cargo ship, transporting sculpted goods,' Captain Arven thought. Frowning, he tossed the rat aside as Elwen and a quarter of his crew climbed onto the ship, quietly mumbling amongst themselves.
"Have you found anyone yet?" Elwen asked, glancing around the deck.
"No, but it's clear it hasn't been long since they ran ashore," Arven said. He kicked over a crate, sending withered apples bouncing away. "I'd say it's been about a week, at most, so there may still be survivors. In this weather, they've more than likely taken shelter below the deck, so that's where I want half of you to start. The rest of you can search through the cargo, see if you can't find anything worthwhile. Elwen, you're to accompany me to the captain's quarters."
"Aye, Captain," Elwen said. He trailed behind as Arven ducked beneath a fallen mast, and strode towards the stairs.
As they approached the stern, Arven studied the unusual vessel. The dark wood planks were cut from a tree he didn't recognize, and the craftsmanship far surpassed any he had seen before, even on the vessels used by nobility.
"There's something off about this ship, Captain," Elwen said, keeping close behind. As they climbed the staircase to the quarter deck, he gestured towards the wheel. "Like those, there, along the base of the pedestal. Don't those look like runes to you?"
Arven knelt beside the wheel, and brushed away the snow. The symbols hidden beneath were strange and twisted, carved from a language he didn't recognize. His fingers tingled as he stood.
"You're right," Arven said. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as he eyed the door leading towards the captain's quarters. A broken lantern hung above it, encrusted in ice. "Stay on guard. I expect we'll find something in there."
"Don't you think we should leave?" Elwen asked. He stood fixed beside the stairs. "What if the ship belongs to the Ashfolk or the Urcrest. They'd tear us apart if they caught us."
"The Ashfolk have never come this far from their mountains, and the Urcrest fear the water. The Halls of Osyras would fall before they step foot on a ship," Arven said. He frowned. "Besides, we still need to figure out what happened here. I'll need to write a report when we reach Telmuth."
Elwen scratched his rosy cheeks as he lowered his gaze. "As you wish, Captain."
Arven gave a slight nod, then handed his lantern to Elwen, and approached the door. After checking the edges for any locks, he gave it a slight push, but it refused to budge.
"Perhaps you need to put more strength into it," Elwen said, raising the lantern.
"Perhaps…" Arven frowned, and gripped the bronze handle. Leaning back, he rammed his shoulder into the wood, and broke the seal with a crack. As it opened, a foul odor spilled from the room, reeking of death.
"Bloody Hells, what is that?" Elwen asked, reeling back. He covered his nose with his jacket, and swung the lantern around, illuminating the ruined quarters.
Tattered parchment and faded scrolls littered the scarred floor, while jagged gashes split the walls and ceiling. A cracked glass window adorned the far back wall, overlooking the wild sea. Shards of glass crinkled beneath Arven's boots as he made his way through the room, ignoring the rancid smell. Elwen lingered outside, still covering his face.
"Captain, I don't think this ship wrecked naturally."
"Nor do I," Arven said, stopping before a desk fastened to the center of the floor. The fetid corpse of a man slumped in the seat behind it. A shard of stone pierced his sunken chest. "I fear we may have stumbled across something we shouldn't have. Elwen, bring me the lantern."
As Elwen trudged over, the light caught on a charcoal map, stuck to the wood. Arven frowned, and peeled it away, avoiding the dried blotches staining the edges. His wrinkles deepened as he flipped it over, and held it closer to the lantern. The map outlined a foreign world, vastly different from the one he knew, including its own sea routes, landscapes, and kingdoms.
"Say, do you recognize any of these lands?"
Elwen tore his eyes away from the corpse just long enough to scan the map, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Captain. They're all unfamiliar to me.
"I thought as much. At least now we know the ship belonged to our kind," Arven said. He folded the map, and slipped it into his coat. Stepping past the desk, he spotted a cot pressed against the wall, with a journal half covered by the velvet blankets.
As he reached for it, a cry rang out from the deck outside. Arven drew his sword and rushed outside, grabbing onto the railing. One of his men laid sprawled out on the deck, his face as pale as the frost in his beard.
A gust swept over the ship, snapping back the torn sails, and revealing a twisted statue, kneeling in the snow. Upon seeing this, a few of the other crew members broke into nervous laughter, but a sharp glance quieted them.
"Get back to work, all of you," Arven said. He waited until they had, then made his way to the fallen man. "Are you alright?"
"I-I'm fine, Captain." The crew member climbed to his feet, and brushed the snow off his trousers. "It just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."
"I can see why," Arven said, examining the statue.
It resembled a man, perhaps in his late forties, and dressed in the attire of a sailor. An impossible amount of detail went into the man's features, though the face itself was contorted, with his mouth split open in a soundless scream. Even the veins in his eyes bulged, and the fingers clawing at his neck were carefully formed, with the nails appearing as though they were dug into the skin itself.
"Whoever chiseled this had a twisted mind." The crew mate stepped back, shivering. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a man turned to stone."
Arven's eyes widened as he recalled the rat. 'Petrification. The people on this ship were all petrified!'
"Everyone, back to the ship!" Arven roared, whirling around. "Leave everything behind, and go!"
His cry sparked a frenzy in the men as they dropped the items they held, and scrambled back towards the gangplank. Arven watched from behind, counting each one as they bolted through the fog, down to the last stumbling one. Scowling, he grabbed the man's shoulder.
"Wait, where's Elwen. I never saw him cross!"
"I- I think I saw him over there." The man gestured wildly towards the prow. "He was mumbling beneath his breath, but I couldn't hear what he was saying."
"Alright. When you get across, tell the crew to prepare to set sail. If we're not over within the next three minutes, I want you to leave without us, you understand."
The man furrowed his brow, but nodded. "Yes, Captain."
Arven released his shoulder, and the man clamored across the gangplank. Spinning on his heel, he raced across the deck.
"Elwen? Where did you go?" Arven called out. He cut through the flapping sails, and stumbled over the fallen masts. Through the heavy fog, he spotted the shadow of his first mate, staring blankly into a dark doorway. "Elwen! What are you doing? We need to get off-"
Arven froze as he grabbed Elwen's shoulder, only to find it as hard as stone. For a moment, he thought the boat was trembling, before realizing it was his legs. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, and gazed upon the face of his first mate.
Elwen's haunted eyes stared past him, wide, and into the depths beyond the doorway. His skin was as dark as obsidian, and colder than ice, while the lantern laid broken at his feet, the flame snuffed out.
Arven threw his fist over his mouth and reeled away, fighting back the rising bile. With a deep breath, he peered into the darkness beyond the doorway. His blood chilled to the bone as an array of petrified men stared back at him, their faces warped, while bits and pieces of their bodies appeared missing.
'Gods above! The ship has been cursed!' Arven thought. Cursing beneath his breath, he took one last look at Elwen, then muttered his apologies, and hurried back to the gangplank.
"Men! Cast off! We need to leave, now," Arven said, leaping across the gangplank. He whirled around, and kicked the board, sending it spiraling into the waves. "I fear there's dark magic on that ship. It took Elwen."
An unnatural silence clung to the air as Arven paused, and lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?"
"One may consider me a traveler. To others, a plague," The answer was cold, but clear.
Arven turned. A young man stood behind him, his ice blue eyes watching him from beneath a mop of tousled black hair. A black fur cloak hung from his shoulders, matching the dark leather armor he wore, which was adorned by a scaled bear, similar to the ship's figurehead. At his hip, he carried a cracked sword, seemingly made from stone, with an amethyst set in the pommel.
"What do you want?" Arven asked, his gaze flicking across the deck. His crew stood behind the man, unmoving as the wind tore at their loose clothes. The sky cracked with lightning, revealing the men's twisted stone expressions.
The man's lips thinned. "I hope you can give me some answers. Where are we? What land is this?"
Arven straightened his back, and stared the man straight in the eye. "The nearest land is Telmuth, in the Ereth desert. We were headed there when we stumbled across your ship. We only boarded to search for survivors."
The stranger scratched his chin. "A noble effort, for which I am grateful. Without you, I might have been stranded here for quite some time. One last question. Have you witnessed a ship possessed by plants recently, steered by a man with amber hair and emerald eyes? He wears a bronze pendant around his neck, bearing the form of a tree."
Arven scowled. "No, I have seen no such man, nor ship of that description."
"I feared as much." The man sighed. "A shame. At least then your death would have had meaning."
Arven flinched as the man flicked his wrist, and a shadow sprung from his cloak. A blur was all he saw before it struck his chest, embedding itself. He blinked, uncertain, and let his head drop. A shard of black stone had pierced his skin, and lodged itself between his ribs, pulsing with veins of amethyst.
"What- what did you do?" Arven asked. He staggered back, falling against the railing. He grasped at the stone, but his fingers slipped off the slick shard, and stained his coat with crimson blood.
With his strength waning, Arven fought to keep his senses, but the lull of sleep weighed heavily against him, stronger than any drink ever had. Taking a deep breath, he picked his head up, and glared at the man who stood before him.
"You won't get away with this, warlock," Arven said. He shifted his body with a grunt, and tilted back his head. "By the Halls of Osyras, your sins today will not be forgotten."
Then, as the last of his strength dwindled, and his final breath mixed with the falling snow, Arven caught the man muttering beneath his breath.
"If the gods deem it my fate, then so be it. But I will not rest until I've taken my revenge."