The Dead Isle: Part 1 - Find Streleka
“
My name is Dnaeon Aegypethileus. You don't have to try pronouncing the last name. I've never heard a human say it right once.”
In the city of Deon's Rise, in a high-class inn called the Cerulean Heron, there sat three adventurers at a table across from an elf whom they had never met before. The elf wore a silk, green doublet and had black hair that flowed over his shoulders. His refinement effused the scent of great wealth, but in spite of this, his face spoke of experience, confidence, and pragmatism.
Johannes glanced between his two companions: his friend Hadric, a strong and skillful warrior with whom he had traveled for the past three months; and Andriel, a young priestess, only nineteen years of age, who had somehow managed to convince him to take her on as an apprentice by swinging a mace at his head – he was still figuring out that one. They, too, studied the elf with a blend of intrigue and apprehension.
They sat and listened to what Mr. Aegype-something had to say.
He took a sip of his wine and set the glass on the table, devoting his attention to the business at hand. “
I have a heavy request to make of you, but I'll start from the beginning so that you might better understand the factors at work here. You see, I am an Estraen, one born on the isle of Estraeus some 200 years ago, the isle which you humans and other races now call the Dead Isle, and not without good reason. In the past, Estraeus was often at war with the neighboring isle of Galia, our elven rivals, but exactly 150 years ago – to make a long story short – they won; and every Estraen elf on the isle was killed without mercy. The Galian Empire is still strong to this day, while our Estraen Kingdom has become naught but bones and ruins. My parents however, to their great credit, had the foresight to leave the isle before the war reached its peak, as did others at that time. As a result, the Estraen blood lives on in small communities around Mercia; here on Perdane, on Kabariya, and most of all on Terrignis Mare, for that isle lies directly east of Estraeus.”
Johannes felt a brief impulse to say something, but the words eluded him.
Sorry your people got genocided? May the Galians burn in hell? None of those sounded appropriate. And one of his best friends – Mikael Vaeltaja – had been a Galian, an honorable man. Words of consolation didn't come quickly, but Dnaeon wasn't looking for them and continued after a sip from his glass.
“
So the Estraen community is small, and we try to keep in contact with our kin – family, as you might understand, has become very important to us. Unfortunately, this bond of ours has led to a dangerous consequence. There is a rumor spreading among Estraens that there are survivors on Estraeus, trapped in the heart of the isle. Now, to be frank with you, it is possible that this is true, but it's unlikely. The isle has become cursed, there's no consumable food or water, and if there were survivors, you would expect that they'd have tried to escape in the last 150 years.”
“
There's the undead,” grunted Hadric, recalling his recent experience.
“
This is true,” replied Dnaeon. “
I don't deny this... They say that when the Galians slaughtered us – men, women, and children alike – with so much hatred in their hearts and committing such heinous atrocities, that the land itself was tainted, causing all who perish there to rise again imbued with that same hatred... but for the living... However, there's more to this rumor of survivors which gives me reason to doubt it. Namely, no one knows who first said it, where it came from, or what evidence there is that it's true. To give you my own opinion, I suspect that this rumor was fabricated by the Galians, a malicious lie to lure Estraens back to the isle, and to die there. A lure for fools.”
The attention of the adventurers was fixated now, for this tale of war, mystery, and undeath was getting interesting and epic.
“
And now,” continued Dnaeon, “
I come to the heart of my request. My younger sister, Streleka, is such a fool. A few days past, she fled our home here in Deon's Rise and bartered passage on a ship to Estraeus, to search for these rumored survivors. I had told her my opinion of this rumor when she first heard it, but she did not heed my wisdom and made arrangements to leave discretely; she was wise in this regard, for I would have prevented her if I had known. My sister is passionate, foolhardy, and prone to such passing fits of action. And though this may sound harsh, I speak the truth when I say that she is also weak, for she could never compete with me in the sword, bow, or even magic.”
Dnaeon put his elbows on the table, his expression grim. “
Streleka, my sister, has no idea how dangerous our homeland has become. I had the chance to visit it once a hundred years ago in my travels. I have seen the skeletons, the zombies... the horrors... If permitted to stay, Streleka will surely die there... This is a fact. Thus, I want you, along with whomever you see fit, to go to the Dead Isle and bring her back, even if she doesn't want to return. I want you... to save my sister from herself...”
A silence was left hanging over the table. It was only broken when a barmaid came and set a few mugs of ale in the center, one of which Hadric tenuously took. The barmaid, who realized she had interrupted a tense silence, awkwardly scooted away.
Johannes took a deep breath. “
Your story, my friend, is... compelling... My companion Hadric and I were on the Dead Isle merely a month ago escorting an archaeological expedition, but, this effort did not get very far before being forced to flee from the danger. And so I might ask, Why do you bring this Quest to us, and not another?”
“
For the reason you have just mentioned. For you see, it was the leader of that same archaeological expedition, Sorben, who recommended you to me!” replied Dnaeon, the connection much to their surprise. “
Sorben and I have long been friends, and he told me of you. And so, the fact that you two have been on the cursed isle before, are veterans of it to an extent, gives you an advantage that is hard to find elsewhere. And also, he told me that you even took part in the slaying of a Dread Knight, an undead being which I haven't seen myself, but have heard rumors of the terror they inspire. With certainty, you are the most qualified group in Deon's Rise to carry out this request. So, will you do this for me?”
Johannes hardened his mind for what he was about to say next, for even to himself it sounded harsh. “
I'm sorry, but we must decline this Quest.”
Dnaeon did not become upset. “
May I ask why?”
“
For a few reasons. To begin, the Dead Isle, as you recognize, is extremely dangerous. If I led a group to rescue your sister and one of my members perished, then it would be simply exchanging a life for a life. Second, we already have plans actually to-”
“
I'll pay you 100,000 gold pieces.”
Hadric choked on his ale, and Andriel fell out of her seat, taking an ale with her that spilled over the floor. Johannes prevented himself from falling.
“
100,000??” replied Johannes.
“
That's... generous,” added Hadric after he recovered.
“
I've lived in Perdane for a century and a half,” said Dnaeon, “
And I've become a prosperous businessman in that time. Gold is something I have plenty of. But family I do not. Please, reconsider.”
Johannes thought for a moment. “
And... would if your sister has already fallen before we find her, if you forgive my asking?”
“
If this happens, then I would ask you bring me her ring. She wears a ring made of darkwood with a red diamond embedded in it; it's a family heirloom of ours which she would never part with while living. If you bring this to me, then I will know you gave this request of mine your fullest effort, and will pay you the 100,000 pieces all the same. Though I would hope this is not the case...”
Johannes took another deep breath. “
Last question... How will we get supplies while on the isle? A ship can only bring so much, and we may end up needing things we don't expect.”
Dnaeon smiled. “
In that case, you are in luck. My friend Sorben and others have returned to Estraeus to set up a semi-permanent Encampment earlier this month. Apparently, there is a great deal of interest among other nations in Estraeus, a desire to loot my homeland of its magical treasures which have been preserved among the undead all these years. In all truthfulness, I do not care about this; better for such items to be in the hands of the living than the dead. I have heard that the Encampment has been set up in an Estraen fortress on the coast which my people called Syrilythius. I have also heard that other daring adventurers have gone there, to support this small foothold and see if they can't acquire some treasures for themselves. I expect you will be able to find refuge and supplies there. And so, I return once again to my query: Will you go to the Dead Isle and bring back my sister? Or should she fall, her ring at the very least?”
Johannes glanced between the eyes of his companions, and the answers there were clear. The 100,000 gold pieces really did the trick. He turned back to Dnaeon.
“
We accept your Quest.”
Two weeks later, Johannes was standing on the deck of his ship with the ocean on all sides. Two days of preparation, twelves days of sailing, and they were now
nearly upon the Dead Isle. He kept his eye on the horizon waiting for the dark shores to appear – any hour now... He felt nervous.
Since the need to catch up with Streleka had pressured their time to prepare, he had only a couple days to gather a new team together, taking the first applicants to his notice on the public board in Deon's Rise. He looked around at the faces of people he barely knew, and yet who he would be risking his life with: There was
Alacor, an older scholarly-looking fellow;
Cabrakan, a young priest;
Crispin, a sharp rogue;
Ziv, a girl he knew little of;
Dinamik, a musician and man of many talents;
Lerdeth, a barbarian horseman; and of course
Hadric and
Andriel. In addition, he had hired two common sailors,
Ted and
Ned, to help him with the sailing, and who would likely never leave the ship for their own safety. Hadric had opposed the addition of so many new members to the group, for each new face was another cut from the 100,000 gold (excluding the sailors, who were payed a simple wage), but Johannes knew that the expense was necessary – if they wished to succeed at all.
“
Everyone come round,” said Johannes, and the new members of his group all gathered on deck, the spray of the ocean against the ship's bow sending salty mists their way. “
We're still all very unfamiliar with each other. Please introduce yourselves and become better acquainted... After all, on this very day, we will be together upon the Dead Isle...”
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Sun 09 July 2017.