<em>From: Hungry Mouse / Zavros Prelude (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=310396.0;all), Kisara's Prelude (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=310398.0;all), Talion's Prelude (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=310399.0;all)</em><br/><br/><div align="center">(https://i.imgur.com/QzCSLCql.jpg)</div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Background Music</div><div class="spoiler_body">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wl9jxbAwuQk</div></div><br/><br/>Once upon a time, this was the highest hill in the city whose name is now lost. Now the rest of it slumbers beneath the waves--or watches wakefully--and it is now an island, a tiny scrap of land in the middle of a shadowland. Around this land and the one surviving structure, the midnight sea is black and reflective. The water seemed unnaturally still, with any splashes or ripples making little impact on the surface before the deathly stillness returned. Overhead, the moon shines shone starkly, the light less comforting here as it casts harsh shadows.<br/><br/>Nothing stirs on the island itself, and anything within the ruined building there is hidden from sight for now. Maybe the denizens are confident that only the suicidal would attack them here and now. And they would be justified....most other times. Four ships have set down here.<br/><br/>In one, a small cargo vessel, a lone man has crouched down, cursing his luck as he glimpses other ships arriving. He's uncomfortably sure that<br/><br/>One is a larger vessel, but still rigged for speed over capacity. It seemed to have been in a fight recently, with superficial damage to the deck and rails, and lingering bloodstains on the deck. It weighed anchor off the pillars that jut out of the sea, and a single axe-wielding figure sprinted across the ruins onto solid ground. Finally, there is an odd-looking ship. At a glance, it looks barely seaworthy, with tattered sails and a weathered, sun-bleached hull from which the paint has flaked away, and which has holes that have clearly been patched. Yet it sails perfectly well, despite<br/><br/>"Not getting paid enough for this....." muttered the smuggler Santis, trying to remain as still as possible. It had sounded simple, wait here until either the foolhardy boy he'd been transporting at the request of the Sea Father's priestess had either returned or been killed. He hadn't expected this many other people to come back. And then there was that building. He knew enough about ghosts to stay away from them, but also to tell him when something most definitely should not be poked.<br/><br/>"If he was all talk.....jus' kill him quietly, and don't look for where he came from. Thass' all I ask." he mumbled.<br/><br/><br/>......<br/><br/><br/>The trip out here had been calm and smooth, even when crossing into the borders of the shadowland after night. Even Henes the ancestor worshiper looked distinctly ill at ease at doing that, but held his tongue. Perhaps he was still marvelling at the miraculous salvaging of a wrecked ship. Scavengers had stripped it while it had lain on the beach for months, so there was no identification for who might have owned it, but he was deeply grateful to them. And even more so to the mysterious giant of a man who had appeared on the beach and offered them a way to the island where his people....and one in particular....were held captive or worse by the slavers. This was a day for strange miracles, it seemed. Before that, he had witnessed the woman who was simply referred to as the Mouse destroy a gang of hardened warriors and their revenant leader as if they were simply children playing with sticks.<br/><br/>Beyond simply being grateful at this help coming at the perfect moment, he had a gnawing sense that this was part of something more important, that he could barely glimpse. There were things that had been ancient rumours even in the times of the eldest ancestors, so obscured and clouded by myth as to be little more than legends....but legends that now felt familiar.<br/><br/>Could there be one more impossible thing tonight? Even if it cost him his life, he felt like he had to find out. He looked uneasily over to the two of them, to see what they planned to do as the boat bumped gently against a submerged piece of masonry, bringing it to a complete halt. He could glimpse the silhouettes of two other boats around the tiny island. Did they belong to the slavers, or had someone else chosen to stop at this forsaken place?<br/><br/><br/>.......<br/><br/><br/>"You really think she can do it?" asked Kersinta, watching the mysterious woman bound away. Faced with a bleak sight such as this, where even her Sea Lord did not reach, she began to doubt if she had sent this woman to her death.<br/><br/>"Dunno." said Lilan, where she'd insisted she be propped up against the mast, supporting her wounded leg on an improvised crutch. It still looked painful, but the captain had insisted on at least seeing what was going on out there. "But from what my boys said, they'd have been dead twice over if she hadn't taken charge in the attack from that sea monster. Whatever she is, maybe she's strong or crazy enough to get your people back?"<br/><br/>"I don't want anyone else to die for me...." said Kersinta, biting her lip.<br/><br/>"Hey, it's not like we're doing this for free!" said Lilan. "We're here till dawn anyway, so we can cut and run if it looks like she's dead. Reckon there's going to be a reward for getting you back to your...<em>husband</em>."<br/><br/><br/>......<br/><br/><br/>As Talion glanced through the windowframe and the first thing noticeable was the smell. The rocks outside had been devoid of the usual smell of the sea, smelling uncomfortably sterile instead. But this was the stink of a slaughterhouse, old congealed blood and the sweat of fear, heightened with the scent of human waste.<br/><br/>On the other side of the window ran a balcony along the interior of a partially collapsed dome. Shelves ran around the interior, now empty and mouldering. Below, at least twenty feet below the floor of a circular chamber looked to have been crudely converted from whatever its original purpose had been into what looked like a twisted parody of a temple. He could see at least forty people below, with their hands bound and forced to kneel prostrate on the floor by the masked spear-armed men who stood behind them. Though their faces were hidden, the body language of the guards suggested that they were almost as frightened as their captives. As for the prisoners, he could see a wide variety--some had the weathered features of hillfolk, while others had the features of shore-dwellers or the more varied appearances of sea travellers whose journey had ended here. There was at least one person there with green-scaled skin and a vestigal tail which twitched in fear. Whereas most slavers would only bother taking the fit, these captives ranged in age from elders to a child of maybe eight. There was no sound apart from ragged breathing, and the occasional whimper, discouraged with the threatening raise of a spear.<br/><br/>At one end was a stone table that looked out of place, carved from what looked like solid onyx and etched with symbols that felt unsavoury to even look at. Behind that was a deep well carved into the floor, going down below sea level into blackness.<br/><br/>Between the rows of prisoners walked a pale, handsome man clad in black. Compared to the living around him, he seemed drained of colour, and looked solid, but just barely, as if a breeze might cause him to blow away into smoke. It was said in shadowlands, the ghosts gained enough substance to walk among the living....<br/><br/>The captives and slavers alike flinched away from him as he walked towards the table.<br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">The Ghost</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://i.imgur.com/JgGBAPfl.jpg)</div></div>