The Shadow in the Sea

[Former Fiend]

Riddleport was a miserable town in the best of times, foggy with the stench of high tide mixed with the sewage outflow and the muddy waters of the river Velashu, not to mention the smell of death on the water from the predators that infested the outer harbor, eagerly slaughtering any unlucky fool that fell in. It was worse in the height of summer where the year long chill gave way to an oppressive, muggy heat and a plague of mosquitoes from the nearby marshes, and the near constant fog gave way to black smoke as locals burnt heavy incense and oil lamps in vain attempts to keep the pests away.



People could get used to just about anything, though, and learn to take pride in just about anything. That the free trade and wealth that came from a near lawless, pirate-ruled port was appealing enough to some to weather the stench all year long, the bitter cold most of the year, and the unbearable heat & blood sucking insects for the rest of it, that was understandable enough. That people could think of themselves as strong for having to endure those conditions and think of outsiders as weak for scorning them, that was understandable. That people claimed to actually like these conditions? To enjoy the smell? That was where they lost Feng Kesh.



Feng Kesh had grown up in Kaer Maga, more than three hundred miles from here. It was a city as cramped and closed in as Riddleport – more so, really. And a city as lawless as Riddleport. Moreso, really. But it was on a desert plateau, so it's heat was a dry heat that didn't leave Feng Kesh feeling like he had just been swimming in shit the whole time he was there. And he didn't pretend to enjoy the smell of it, which was both better and worse than the stench of Riddleport; Kaer Maga's high walls kept out the weather but kept in the smell of all it's people and livestock, but at least those smells didn't mingle with the stench of the sea.



Feng Kesh had come far in his travels throughout the land of Varisia and beyond. On this day he returned to his homeland from a particularly strange journey, his ship docking in Riddleport's inner harbor in the river's mouth earlier this afternoon. Within the day he planned to be on the road back to Kaer Maga, but for tonight he had decided to take a rest and enjoy a well earned drink.



The half-orc had found himself in the Publican House, a temple to Cayden Cailean & a rough and rowdy bar, befitting a house of the Drunken God of Bravery. Feng Kesh didn't hold to Cayden, himself, but he found his followers agreeable enough, brave and good if not always reliable. And they kept a fine selection of spirits on hand. There wasn't another place in this bilge pit of a city that he would trust to serve a decent glass of sake, if nothing else.



He found himself a place to sit and drink; there was no quiet place in a bar like this. All were welcome here except for the Cyphermages, which meant that rival gangs drank side by side and inevitably fought. But Feng Kesh didn't get involved; he only fought when it mattered or couldn't be avoided, and whenever a brawl crashed into him he simply didn't budge and allowed it to bounce off of his armored bulk.



But he did listen, and what he heard disturbed him. Rumors. Rumors things in the water, things in the marshes. Things that had always been there, on the fringe of this place out on the frontier. Frog men and fish men and hungry giants and other, older, nameless, shapeless things. Feng Kesh had seen such creatures and worse in his travels, he had fought and slain them. So monster stories didn't shock or frighten him. What concerned him was the nature of these tales; that these things that had always been there were moving with new purpose. Greater organization. Raids on the town, probing the defenses. Well armed ships crewed by hardened, seasoned pirates, found adrift with every man slaughtered, but no sign of being boarded by another ship; just slime and filth and gore.



Unholy. Unnatural. Wrong. These were the words the locals described these happenings. In years past, these things that lurked beyond the edges of civilization were a threat to those who wandered foolishly alone at night outside the bounds of a city. Those who trespassed in the wild places. But now, they were encroaching, infiltrating. The rumors spoke of strangers seen among the city. People with bulbous eyes and webbed hands, who would slit a throat and disappear among a crowd. No crew or gang was safe, they said. No pattern could be discerned.



Feng Kesh just sat quietly, one hand waving a waitress over for more sake, the other strumming against the hilt of one of his two swords as he kept his eyes and ears open, considering how much weight to give these rumors, and whether it should alter his travel plans.

[Rex Apium]

Infamy was a pirate's greatest tool, or their greatest downfall – depending on who you asked – and there was no pirate more infamous than Captain Redriver. The Mistress of the Seas, she was called, among other names, who captained a ship of dwarves to rival any other. Not many stood in her way and lived to tell the tale.

At least, that's how she saw it. In all actuality, there were plenty of other infamous pirates, but despite this, Redriver wasn't one to be trifled with. She's certainly hammered out a nice little niche for herself and most people stayed far away from she and her crew of seafaring dwarves. Part of this was because her crew was either some of the most skilled on the open water, or at the very least the most lucky. Rumor had it she'd been blessed by the Gods themselves and some even went so far as to claim she'd made a pact with a demon. The Captain herself never claimed either way and instead made it a point to insult anyone that questioned her directly about it.

That was the other thing about the infamous Captain Redriver. Despite all the rumors that surrounded her, one thing was consistently clear. She wasn't the nicest woman you'd ever meet. She'd insult you to your face and if you had a problem with that, she'd pull a sword or a gun without hesitation. She wasn't there to make friends and made that abundantly clear.

Despite her mostly bad qualities, she was well known for getting things done and also known for taking side missions that sometimes didn't have much to do with piracy at all. What most people didn't know is that Captain Redriver, before becoming what she was today, spent many years as an adventurer – doing odd jobs here and there to make coin and a name for herself. This habit never truly wore off and she constantly found herself listening in to rumors whenever she pulled into port. She couldn't, nor would she, tell anyone why she continued to help people this way. Honestly, she had no idea herself why she even cared – but here she was, overhearing a conversation between a handful of sailors as she walked down the street.

Captain Elysia Redriver was used to the stares and the glances and whispers in her direction. She actually quite enjoyed the looks she was given. She was an attractive woman, physically, with her constantly tanned skin and toned body. Her elven heritage gave her just the right amount of allure and she knew exactly how to flaunt the assets she was given and flaunt she did. Flirting was one of her favorite things to do, next to belittling people. She really was a woman of depth.

Overhearing was one thing, but Elysia knew better than to go on hearsay. She was already on her way to the Publican House, she was bound to find out more information there. Plus, they knew her there, it was her favorite place to visit when she docked in Riddleport. She liked watching, and instigating, the fights and it was the cleanest damn place in the whole town, which was honestly saying quite a bit. She might have been a pirate, but she did have some standards.

Well known was perhaps a bit of an understatement, for the moment Elysia threw the door open and stepped into the Publican House, her name was already being shouted. Most of it joyful welcoming from fellow pirates and drunkards alike, but most importantly, her favorite tender was at the bar. It didn't take much for her to get a seat either, one glance to someone just too much of a coward to take a glare from her ice blue eyes and the stool was hers.

Now the important bit, finding out as much as she could about the rumors she'd heard. Perhaps there was coin in it... and just perhaps she could get something more out of this too.

[Former Fiend]

The sun had grown low in the sky and the moon, near full, had grown higher, casting it's light down on the murky, mucky surface of the River Velashu, which cut through the city of Riddleport; not clean in half, more of the city was built on the east bank than on the east by far, but the divide was still important as no bridges crossed the river due to outdated concerns of goblin invasions and superstitions. For those living on the western bank, cut off from easy access from the bulk of Riddleport's mercenary guard force, the lax laws(even for this city) were both boon and the risk one was willing to take.

While goblin invasion from the west was no longer much of a real concern, the river did offer some manner of defense. Run off from the city's metalworks, gasworks, breweries, tanneries, and sewers all flowed into the the Velashu, and the disgusting mire of effluvia acted as a barrier against the vicious marine life of the outer harbor and Varisian Bay swimming up river where they would threaten more lives. Few natural creatures of the material plane could survive in such filth.

But unnatural creatures from other realms could.

Among the traffic up and down the Velashu, a rowboat driven by a single figure cut a line through the murky surface, a light wake following behind it. A wake that was, itself, disturbed by the water swell of three masses moving just beneath, masses that disappeared into the depths of the river as the rowboat pulled up to the pier of the Publican House on the Western bank of the river.

-----------------------------------------
The man tending the bar at the Publican House that night, as most nights, was none other than the High Publican himself, Arnando Rolf. A hulking figure, Arnando was a cleric of Cayden Cailean and a warrior of some renown, almost never seen without a notched sword at his hip. Ruggedly handsome, boisterous, and charming, he served as high priest of the Drunken God in the City of Cyphers, one of the most powerful practitioners of divine magic in the city, and certainly it's most powerful and notable priest of a goodly god.

Despite that, he was rather fond of Elysia Redrivers – to the point that rumors of a tryst between the two weren't uncommon among regulars to the Publican. Elysia may have been a fucking bitch, in her own words, but she wasn't afraid to start or end a fight or to tell someone exactly what she thought of them. Those were traits that Arnando both admired and shared. Besides, on nights she showed up, his sales doubled – either from patrons buying her drinks or buying themselves drinks to work up the courage to buy her a drink.

So when she in the door that night, he joined his voice into the chorus of those that welcomed her. When she walked up to the bar and scared off one of the drunks who was too skittish to be worthy of drinking in the house of the God of Bravery, he let out a chuckle. And when she started asking questions about the odd goings on, he was all too happy to answer.

Granted, most of what he had to say wasn't good. According to him, the rumors were largely true; nearby farms had been raided by marsh giants and boggards venturing out of their territory in the surrounding swamps, though the creature's hadn't yet tried a direct attack on the city yet, their efforts were organized to the point that General Mescher, head of the mercenary militia in the employ of the city's ruler, Pirate Overlord Gaston Cromarchy, was concerned, though Cromarchy himself seemed to be paying the whole situation little mind.

This was in spite of the fact that murders in the city were on the rise – dozens had been slain in their homes and on the streets in the past few weeks, and more had just gone missing. While Riddleport had become more stable over the last few years under Cromarchy's rulership, violence wasn't anything unusual, with rival gangs and crews always at each other's throats waiting to be set off, and serial killers like the Rotgut Ripper having preyed upon the city for years, but this recent string of killings was notable for it's randomness and sudden escalation, with no side claiming responsibility or being sure who to blame. And while at least a few of these were sudden murders on the street, Arnando revealed to Elysia that he had been brought in to examine or perform services for a few of the victims, and he was certain their deaths bore the signs of deliberate human sacrifice.

But the violence in the streets paled compared to the violence on the water. Riddleport's outer harbor had always been a dangerous place; common wisdom held that if a man fell overboard there, he had a minute, two tops, to get out of the water before something made sure he never left it alive. But over the last few weeks, in about the same time span as everything else going to shit, the deaths in the harbor had doubled, with the sea monsters becoming even more aggressive. Men had even reported seeing figures in the water, like some type of fish-men, waiting, watching, or swimming away from the attacks. Arnando mentioned that he'd normally write such things off as men being drunk, mad, scared, or lying, if he hadn't seen such things himself – though he admitted he couldn't make out quite what which of the aquatic races it was that he had seen lingering in the water, he never walked near it without his hand on his sword these days.

And then there were the ships; three ships tat had either departed from or were expected to make harbor in Riddleport had been found at sea over the last couple weeks, derelict. Not abandoned; while there were no bodies, enough pieces and blood remained to be sure that their crews had been slaughtered, not taken prisoner or abandoned ship. There had been no real damage to the ships as a whole – no evidence they had done battle with hunter-ships. Something had just crawled out of the water, climbed up on deck, and killed them all, and left them adrift. No valuables or supplies stolen, if reports were to be believed. There were at least four other ships that had been expected in by now that hadn't arrived or been found, though pirates and smugglers weren't always known for keeping the tightest schedules.

Over all, Arnando said, the mood in the town was suspicion, unrest, and fear. Suspicion at who might be behind it, unrest that the leadership didn't seem eager to do anything about it, and fear at who might die next. A smart woman, and as Arnando was all too happy to point out, he had always fancied Elysia to be a smart woman, could find a way to profit off of a situation like that. For his part, Arnando was happy to lead the Publican House in drinking and revelry, to take their minds off of it, to ease their nerves and bolster their resolve. To show whoever was behind this wickedness that there were still brave men & women to be found in Riddleport.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Feng Kesh set his cup down on his table and rose up from his seat. The hour was growing late and he had intentions to be on the road at dawn. And while the Publican House had many virtues as an establishment of drinking and merrymaking and even prayer, it didn't offer lodging, at least not to most weary travelers. Besides, there was a fog seeping into the Publican House off the river, a fog that carried the foul stench of the mire outside.

So the half-orc walked over to the bar, intent on paying his tab before making his way to an inn. The bartender, a man nearly as big as Feng Kesh himself, was deep in conversation with a beautiful half-elven woman he had noticed walk in several minutes early. Elysia Redrivers, he had heard others call her, and it was a name he had heard before; Kaer Maga was full of merchants from Riddleport claiming to be peddling goods plundered by the Dread Captain Redrivers. She hadn't been what he had expected, but he knew better than to take the word of merchants at face value. Regardless, the so called 'Mistress of the Seas' was certainly the kind of woman who couldn't enter a room without everyone taking notice of it.

After a moment the bartender shifted his attention from Elysia to Feng Kesh & started to ask how he could help the large, green warrior. But before he could finish asking let along before Feng Kesh could start to answer, Arnando Rolf's words caught in his throat and his hands went to his neck. His tanned skin began to turn beat red as he sucked and gasped for breath but only a gurgling, gargling sound escaped. Brackish water began leaking from his mouth as his skin darkened from pink to red to blue and the huge man collapsed onto the floor behind the bar, the glass in his hand shattering beside him.

A waitress rushed to his side but Feng Kesh looked around as he heard more gasps throughout the assembled crowd; around the publican house, nine other figures were in the midst of collapsing, their friends and fellow patrons crowding around them, trying to figure out what was going on and a way to help.

What was going on was a distraction, Feng Kesh concluded, as that putrid fog that had leaked into the tavern congealed and solidified, and where once there was a cloud, now there were four tangible, horrible figures. Morbidly obese and misshapen men merged with fish and frog, with bulbous, rubbery skin the color of crude oil and crusty scales caking them like filth. The sagging flesh of their mutated, deformed bulk twisted and contorted as they looked around them, coiling their bodies to strike.

But they weren't the only ones, as as soon as the gaseous form of the creatures had become corporeal, his sword was in his hand, and as he saw their hateful, predatory faces lock on to the distracted tavern goers, and he saw them prepare to lunge upon their prey, Feng Kesh acted first, charging the nearest one and slicing it's head off.

The monster's head hit the floor first with a sickening thud, it's bulbous eyes looking up at it's killer with pure hatred before the life faded from it. Where as blood would spray or pump from the neck of a human who had their head removed and the blood-pressure of their heart released, this creature's wound spat fort a viscious brown ichor that bubbled and oozed from it's stump of a neck as it collapsed first onto it's knees and then onto the floor with a disgusting splatter.

That drew everyone's attention. And in turn, everyone was now painfully aware of the three remaining monstrous figures slavering among them. At which point, all hell broke loose in the Publican House.