"Hey Francis, you seen that fence of yours lately? Mikhail, I think his name was?"
Francis shook his head, and replied:
"Not in about a week Jayce. I saw him when we were searching the docks for some clues to where the Celeste may have gone. Something he can help you with?"
"Well, I'd like to sell some newly found items, but would like you to get me acquainted with him... I don't think it's the best idea to approach him out of nowhere."
Francis nodded, and replied:
"Aye, Mikhail having never met you before... he would definitely turn a shoulder on you."
Jayce chuckled, and inquired:
"So, where are we headed this time?"
"The cemetery near Cove." replied Francis.
"So we're exploring the tombs and graves in search of undead who could be holding a great treasure?" Inquired Jayce. Francis smirked, and replied:
"Yes Jayce... That’s what these shovels are for."
Jayce grinned as the two continued down the road towards the Village of Cove. It was a rather dreary day outside, the morning fog still lingered a bit, and a soft rain was falling on and off since the two had departed from Minoc. Upon reaching a fork in the road, Francis pointed straight ahead, as the two entered the forest in the direction of the cemetery. After a few moments of snapping twigs and brush being pushed aside, Francis paused and quietly spoke:
"We need to be as quiet as we can on this one Jayce. Remember, if someone sees us, we split up and meet back at the fur trader in Vesper."
Jayce nodded in acceptance, as the both of them continued and began to mind the ground they were walking on. Rather than brush aside branches and shrubs, they both walked and creeped around them as to not make a sound. As they went further into the woods, the darker and foggier it became. The gentle mist of the morning had turned into a steady rainfall now. After what felt like an hour of walking, Francis paused, raised his hand and crouched abruptly. Jayce followed suit, wiped the soaking rain from his face and began to scan the area. After a few moments, Francis turned and made eye contact with Jayce; and then pointed ahead to a small clearing in the woods. Jayce looked and noticed what seemed to be a shadowy figure lurking in the area up ahead. Who, or whatever it was, did not notice the two hiding in the thicket. Francis turned around, and quietly whispered to Jayce:
“It looks like a lich. There is an unmarked grave to the left of him.”
Jayce nodded, and leaned in to get a better view of the area up ahead. He then replied:
“I think someone beat us here, Francis. The grave looks like it has been dug up already.”
Francis nodded as a look of concern came over his face.
“We need to get in there for a closer look. Any ideas to draw that lich away?”
Jayce pondered for a moment, and looked around at the ground. He then picked up a rock and showed it to Francis. A puzzling look came across Francis’s face as he saw Jayce smirk. Jayce then took the rock, and threw it off into the distance as hard as he could. After a few seconds, the rock could be heard striking the side of a tree. The loud thump drew the attention of the lich, who headed in the direction that the stone was thrown. Francis smiled, and shook his head.
“Let’s go, quickly!”
The two quietly snuck over to the desecrated grave after the lich was safely out of the way. Francis crouched down to look into the hole, to see what was inside. He reached down, and pulled up the tattered cloth, and skeletal remains that were contained inside. After inspecting them for a few moments, he dropped them back in the hole, with a disappointing sigh.
“Whose grave is this Francis?” Inquired Jayce.
“Garrett’s… From the Celeste… A few monks took his remains here to be buried after he was killed.” Replied Francis. Jayce was about to speak, but Francis continued:
“Something isn’t right here Jayce. Mikhail was the one who gave me the location of this grave… He was the one that commissioned the job, should we find any artifacts in here we were to bring them right back to him. What is even more disturbing… this.” Said Francis, as he stood up and pointed to a low hanging tree branch in front of the two. He walked over, and grabbed a tattered red piece of cloth that was dangling from the tree.
“This is Mikhail’s skullcap. He’s been here already… and recently. I bet you a round that he’s the one who dug up the grave.” Stated Francis. A confused look came over Jayce’s face.
“We need to leave here… now.” Said Francis.
The two stood up, and turned around to walk back in the direction they had come from. Suddenly, they were greeted by a deafening laughter; the lich that they had eluded earlier, was now starring them in the face! Jayce was startled, lost his balance and slipped in the wet grass as he tried to backtrack his steps. Francis’s eyes met the gaze of the lich as he drew his dagger. The lich uttered some unknown necromantic tongue, and a sudden blast of cold energy was shot towards the two. Jayce yelled in pain, while Francis was struck and fell to the ground.
“Jayce! Run!” Exclaimed Francis as he stood up, and ran straight for the lich. The lich raised his hand to strike, but Francis evaded, and rolled into the grass. Seconds later, he was back on his feet and fleeing into the woods behind the undead denizen. The lich howled, as it shot off bursts of fire in the direction Francis had fled. With no regard for alerting any other predators that may be lurking in the forest, Francis ran as quickly as he could towards the direction Vesper…
*****
Meanwhile In Moonglow…
Stanley slouched in his chair, and slowly puffed away at his pipe while he was lost in deep thought. He kept going over the same set of circumstances in his mind; over and over expecting… hoping for a different outcome, but always came to the same conclusion. He let out a deep sigh as he exhaled, and placed his pipe on the table in front of him.
“Well, I suppose I had better document these findings.” Stanley thought to himself. He leaned forward and took a quill and some ink, and his leather-bound journal from across the table. After flipping forward to a blank page, Stanley hesitated for a moment, and decided to pour himself a goblet of wine. He took a gulp and began to record his research:
Last week, a group of adventurers approached me as I was tending to my wheat crop outside. This didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me at first, but when they mentioned necromancy, and the Ghost Ship Celeste, I raised a brow. Remembering what I had read in the Town Crier about the ship, descriptions of its crew and its assault on Vesper, I became curious… *scribble* …they seemed to think that the undead crew, and captain are bound by some sort of necromantic curse. I asked them to bring anything they could find, perhaps left by the ship, or crewmembers after the battle. The next day a man by the name of Francis delivered to me a tattered logbook from the ship, and an ancient parchment with what he described as necromantic writings. I thanked him, gave him a few coin for the trouble, a bottle of wine, and sent him on his way.
After paging through the logbook, and looking over the parchment something caught my utmost attention immediately… the parchment was not written in any necromantic language that I was familiar with. It seemed to be something older… much older. I took the parchment and logbook with me, and set out to the Lycaeum. After searching for hours, I finally found the books that I would need to translate the parchment. As it turns out, the words and symbols are in the language of the wisps! I sat back with a smile on my face, for this was a historic find that Francis had brought me! This would certainly increase our understanding of the wisps, and what knowledge they might possess!
But I was mistaken.
After spending a good portion of the following day decoding the runes and symbols, it became apparent that this parchment was in fact a spell of sorts. Not a complete spell in the sense, but rather a fragment of something much larger… and something that I had hoped was not true, but I fear is…
The Armageddon Spell.
If memory serves me correct, the group of cultists known as the Followers of Armageddon attempted to cast this spell. Luckily they had failed in their attempt; and rather than destroy the world, the earthquakes they created opened up passages to a new world… Sort of ironic now that I think about it… And here I am penning this in my journal with a fragment of that spell right next to me. I had dearly hoped that this was not true, that I had misread the parchment for what was actually written there. But every time I went back over the translations, it became more and more clear that I was not wrong… this was a portion of the spell.
This is when I turned to the tattered logbook recovered from Garrett, the first mate of the Celeste… Surely this would have some clues in it as to how Captain Enrico came to possess the spell. My first assumption was to look for any indication of dates with the various log entries… I had found a few, and after cross-referencing them with archived copies of the Town Crier, it only further confirmed my fears… The Celeste was bound for Vesper when the cultists attempted to cast the Armageddon spell… which is exactly when she disappeared according to the lore and tales of lost ships… Reading some of the other entries, the first mate expressed concern with how Captain Enrico was behaving after they departed from Nujel’m. He seemed to indicate Enrico spent a great deal of time in his private quarters, and that odd chanting or muttering could be heard from his room.
I have been sitting here for most of the day reviewing my research… It all leads me to the same conclusion: Captain Enrico is in fact an agent for the Followers of Armageddon. He must have assisted in some way in the attempted casting of that dreaded spell, but failed. The ship itself must have either been cast forward in time, or sent to an entirely different realm altogether. The last entry in the logbook was undated, only four words… “The place between places”
Francis put down his quill, and closed his journal. He looked at the now empty goblet, and empty bottle of wine and sighed. He stood up, turned around and walked over to his bed.
“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.” Stanley thought to himself as he lay on the bed, and kept going over the circumstances that led him to his conclusion.
Francis shook his head, and replied:
"Not in about a week Jayce. I saw him when we were searching the docks for some clues to where the Celeste may have gone. Something he can help you with?"
"Well, I'd like to sell some newly found items, but would like you to get me acquainted with him... I don't think it's the best idea to approach him out of nowhere."
Francis nodded, and replied:
"Aye, Mikhail having never met you before... he would definitely turn a shoulder on you."
Jayce chuckled, and inquired:
"So, where are we headed this time?"
"The cemetery near Cove." replied Francis.
"So we're exploring the tombs and graves in search of undead who could be holding a great treasure?" Inquired Jayce. Francis smirked, and replied:
"Yes Jayce... That’s what these shovels are for."
Jayce grinned as the two continued down the road towards the Village of Cove. It was a rather dreary day outside, the morning fog still lingered a bit, and a soft rain was falling on and off since the two had departed from Minoc. Upon reaching a fork in the road, Francis pointed straight ahead, as the two entered the forest in the direction of the cemetery. After a few moments of snapping twigs and brush being pushed aside, Francis paused and quietly spoke:
"We need to be as quiet as we can on this one Jayce. Remember, if someone sees us, we split up and meet back at the fur trader in Vesper."
Jayce nodded in acceptance, as the both of them continued and began to mind the ground they were walking on. Rather than brush aside branches and shrubs, they both walked and creeped around them as to not make a sound. As they went further into the woods, the darker and foggier it became. The gentle mist of the morning had turned into a steady rainfall now. After what felt like an hour of walking, Francis paused, raised his hand and crouched abruptly. Jayce followed suit, wiped the soaking rain from his face and began to scan the area. After a few moments, Francis turned and made eye contact with Jayce; and then pointed ahead to a small clearing in the woods. Jayce looked and noticed what seemed to be a shadowy figure lurking in the area up ahead. Who, or whatever it was, did not notice the two hiding in the thicket. Francis turned around, and quietly whispered to Jayce:
“It looks like a lich. There is an unmarked grave to the left of him.”
Jayce nodded, and leaned in to get a better view of the area up ahead. He then replied:
“I think someone beat us here, Francis. The grave looks like it has been dug up already.”
Francis nodded as a look of concern came over his face.
“We need to get in there for a closer look. Any ideas to draw that lich away?”
Jayce pondered for a moment, and looked around at the ground. He then picked up a rock and showed it to Francis. A puzzling look came across Francis’s face as he saw Jayce smirk. Jayce then took the rock, and threw it off into the distance as hard as he could. After a few seconds, the rock could be heard striking the side of a tree. The loud thump drew the attention of the lich, who headed in the direction that the stone was thrown. Francis smiled, and shook his head.
“Let’s go, quickly!”
The two quietly snuck over to the desecrated grave after the lich was safely out of the way. Francis crouched down to look into the hole, to see what was inside. He reached down, and pulled up the tattered cloth, and skeletal remains that were contained inside. After inspecting them for a few moments, he dropped them back in the hole, with a disappointing sigh.
“Whose grave is this Francis?” Inquired Jayce.
“Garrett’s… From the Celeste… A few monks took his remains here to be buried after he was killed.” Replied Francis. Jayce was about to speak, but Francis continued:
“Something isn’t right here Jayce. Mikhail was the one who gave me the location of this grave… He was the one that commissioned the job, should we find any artifacts in here we were to bring them right back to him. What is even more disturbing… this.” Said Francis, as he stood up and pointed to a low hanging tree branch in front of the two. He walked over, and grabbed a tattered red piece of cloth that was dangling from the tree.
“This is Mikhail’s skullcap. He’s been here already… and recently. I bet you a round that he’s the one who dug up the grave.” Stated Francis. A confused look came over Jayce’s face.
“We need to leave here… now.” Said Francis.
The two stood up, and turned around to walk back in the direction they had come from. Suddenly, they were greeted by a deafening laughter; the lich that they had eluded earlier, was now starring them in the face! Jayce was startled, lost his balance and slipped in the wet grass as he tried to backtrack his steps. Francis’s eyes met the gaze of the lich as he drew his dagger. The lich uttered some unknown necromantic tongue, and a sudden blast of cold energy was shot towards the two. Jayce yelled in pain, while Francis was struck and fell to the ground.
“Jayce! Run!” Exclaimed Francis as he stood up, and ran straight for the lich. The lich raised his hand to strike, but Francis evaded, and rolled into the grass. Seconds later, he was back on his feet and fleeing into the woods behind the undead denizen. The lich howled, as it shot off bursts of fire in the direction Francis had fled. With no regard for alerting any other predators that may be lurking in the forest, Francis ran as quickly as he could towards the direction Vesper…
*****
Meanwhile In Moonglow…
Stanley slouched in his chair, and slowly puffed away at his pipe while he was lost in deep thought. He kept going over the same set of circumstances in his mind; over and over expecting… hoping for a different outcome, but always came to the same conclusion. He let out a deep sigh as he exhaled, and placed his pipe on the table in front of him.
“Well, I suppose I had better document these findings.” Stanley thought to himself. He leaned forward and took a quill and some ink, and his leather-bound journal from across the table. After flipping forward to a blank page, Stanley hesitated for a moment, and decided to pour himself a goblet of wine. He took a gulp and began to record his research:
Last week, a group of adventurers approached me as I was tending to my wheat crop outside. This didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me at first, but when they mentioned necromancy, and the Ghost Ship Celeste, I raised a brow. Remembering what I had read in the Town Crier about the ship, descriptions of its crew and its assault on Vesper, I became curious… *scribble* …they seemed to think that the undead crew, and captain are bound by some sort of necromantic curse. I asked them to bring anything they could find, perhaps left by the ship, or crewmembers after the battle. The next day a man by the name of Francis delivered to me a tattered logbook from the ship, and an ancient parchment with what he described as necromantic writings. I thanked him, gave him a few coin for the trouble, a bottle of wine, and sent him on his way.
After paging through the logbook, and looking over the parchment something caught my utmost attention immediately… the parchment was not written in any necromantic language that I was familiar with. It seemed to be something older… much older. I took the parchment and logbook with me, and set out to the Lycaeum. After searching for hours, I finally found the books that I would need to translate the parchment. As it turns out, the words and symbols are in the language of the wisps! I sat back with a smile on my face, for this was a historic find that Francis had brought me! This would certainly increase our understanding of the wisps, and what knowledge they might possess!
But I was mistaken.
After spending a good portion of the following day decoding the runes and symbols, it became apparent that this parchment was in fact a spell of sorts. Not a complete spell in the sense, but rather a fragment of something much larger… and something that I had hoped was not true, but I fear is…
The Armageddon Spell.
If memory serves me correct, the group of cultists known as the Followers of Armageddon attempted to cast this spell. Luckily they had failed in their attempt; and rather than destroy the world, the earthquakes they created opened up passages to a new world… Sort of ironic now that I think about it… And here I am penning this in my journal with a fragment of that spell right next to me. I had dearly hoped that this was not true, that I had misread the parchment for what was actually written there. But every time I went back over the translations, it became more and more clear that I was not wrong… this was a portion of the spell.
This is when I turned to the tattered logbook recovered from Garrett, the first mate of the Celeste… Surely this would have some clues in it as to how Captain Enrico came to possess the spell. My first assumption was to look for any indication of dates with the various log entries… I had found a few, and after cross-referencing them with archived copies of the Town Crier, it only further confirmed my fears… The Celeste was bound for Vesper when the cultists attempted to cast the Armageddon spell… which is exactly when she disappeared according to the lore and tales of lost ships… Reading some of the other entries, the first mate expressed concern with how Captain Enrico was behaving after they departed from Nujel’m. He seemed to indicate Enrico spent a great deal of time in his private quarters, and that odd chanting or muttering could be heard from his room.
I have been sitting here for most of the day reviewing my research… It all leads me to the same conclusion: Captain Enrico is in fact an agent for the Followers of Armageddon. He must have assisted in some way in the attempted casting of that dreaded spell, but failed. The ship itself must have either been cast forward in time, or sent to an entirely different realm altogether. The last entry in the logbook was undated, only four words… “The place between places”
Francis put down his quill, and closed his journal. He looked at the now empty goblet, and empty bottle of wine and sighed. He stood up, turned around and walked over to his bed.
“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.” Stanley thought to himself as he lay on the bed, and kept going over the circumstances that led him to his conclusion.