It’s been eight days on the riverboat heading down from the foothills of the Vahin range in the North, and you’ve had a pleasant voyage so far, if not a quick one - there are weeks yet to travel before you reach the Ileojan Republic.
The boat’s set out again after spending a day in dock in a small town along the way , waiting for a particularly fierce spring storm to pass. The last of the clouds still loom over the landscape, but this morning sun shines over the tundra, and reflects in shards of red and orange off the river ahead.
Or perhaps it’s not just the sun’s reflection. First a mere brightness on the river, then a rush of air as the sky turned dark, the hull splintering… and you’re here, wherever here may be.
You’re still on the boat, at least, and most of the crew and other passengers seem to be as well, but little else is the same. The deck is tilted steeply, the prow twisted and battered, it’s figurehead pointing up into darkness.
It’s night here, but the moonlight is enough that you can at least navigate the deck safely. You can’t see much beyond the boat, but there - ahead and above, is another light, burning a steady red atop a peak of jagged rock.
The change in the fog is subtle, at first, but no native of Itanat could but notice it - it thins, giving way to traces of the moonlight you so rarely see, yet your skin doesn’t steam with fading memories like it does at the touch of unobscured air in Itanat.
A few more steps, and the mist becomes damp, and Hrothgar can smell salt in the air. The ground here is rough granite and basalt, with a staircase cut into the steep slope ahead of you, though the sea-mist is still too thick for you to see where it leads. Not too far behind you, you hear the sound of waves.
The mist is fading, revealing the moon low on the horizon to your left, and ahead, at the peak of the steep little island, a beacon, bright and crimson.
It takes Hrothgar a minute to realize that he's not in Itanat anymore. As he stops, the black wrapped figure that had been marching behind him stops as well.
His first reaction is glee.
"Hehehe, we're free! Free of the fog and the tribe and the dead!" He then looks a little worried, turning to address his skeletally thin companion. "Oh, not you Gork. The other ones."
He then looks at his other companion. "Did you do this? Where are we?"
Hrothgar isn't particularly concerned. As long as he's with his friends, he can take on anything.
"I did not do this. Why would I? The fog is all I have ever known."
Necra looks around, currently in her vaguely humanoid form.
"Still this place is interesting, let us find some inhabitants. I will see if their souls taste different"
"Right. Lead the way."
Once outside, Chirop sighed at the moonlight. It couldn't even be noon yet, so obviously the fates were conspiring to keep him from a good day's sleep in the actual daytime. He took to the air, trying to get some altitude for a good look at the situation while following Cwalu to Karlat. He called out to him as he landed, "Karlat, what's going on? The crash woke me, and suddenly it's night and we're on rocks in new waters? Have the captain or crew said anything yet?"
Senses blindsense 20 ft., darkvision 70 ft., low-light vision; Listen +17*, Spot +17*
Also, Chirop can cast light essentially at will, not that he'll likely think of it on his own for others (it's plenty bright enough for him even when it's pitch black, and it's easy to forget that the humans he's traveling with don't have quite the same night time affinity). But if Karlat and Cwalu want a magical light source, all they need to do is ask. May or may not be relevant right now, depending on the lighting on the deck, but certainly for later when we inevitably go to investigate the glowy thingy that's probably a lighthouse.
Hrothgar nods. "Just remember what I've told you, people are all over the place and don't like having their souls eaten so they'll gang up on you if you try."
After thinking for a moment, he pats Necra's shoulder reassuringly. "You'll get to eat someone's soul eventually, don't worry."
Hrothgar then leads the way up the stairs.
"Yes, I will wait. Repairing my armor after the grain takes exception to the harvest is time consuming."
Necra follows Hrothgar up the steps.
Ascending the stone stairway, our shadows grow long behind you even as they become distinct from the surrounding darkness. Halfway up, you startle at a splintering crash from the far side of the rocky spire, the groan and crack of breaking wood, giving way to worried voices, quiet, but not few.
You approach the light on the peak of the rock island, and look down at the shore about a hundred feet away, but with the bright beacon at the top of the rock so near, it's impossible to see much in the darkness around.
The beacon itself is a glass globe four feet in diameter, capped at the bottom with a bronze disc, affixed by five columns to a base set into the stone ground. within is a strange sort of a flame - red and brilliant enough to be painful to look at directly, it does not flicker like normal fire, but is perfectly still, caught in a single prolonged moment, as though the glass contained not just the flame's heat, but the passage of time itself.
(https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/91323563/IMG_0338.JPG)
The half-moon is low in the sky, and you note that the only stars visible are close to it - the moon must be shining through a gap, perhaps a cave-mouth, while the rest of the sky is obscured. If this is a cave, though, it's a large one; you don't hear the echoes of any nearby walls. The air is still and lifeless, and the dark water nearly so, but for low waves.
The sound of worried crew and passengers is loud, but sparser than it should be, and there's only half as many people on deck as you'd have expected, and no sign of Captain Sinteme. The sound of the waves is too soft for the open sea, but the air smells of salt.
The shore rises steeply to nearly the height of the deck before leveling off into a tilted but flat surface with a scattering of dry, withered vines anchored in cracks in the rock. The red light ahead is out of range of your darkvision, but conspicuous nonetheless. It's about a hundred feet away, a beacon shining within a glass globe in some metallic housing. It doesn't flicker like a flame, but the color brighter and less even than that of the common light spells.
Somewhere in the distance beyond it you can hear voices. Two people, speaking quietly enough that you can't make out much, behind the low peak on which the beacon sits.
"We are not alone, prepare yourself."
Necra takes up a defensive stance. Standing with the flame behind and facing the direction of the noise.
Hrothgar nods, trusting the senses of his companion.
He draws his sword, waiting to see what will happen.
As Gork stands ready beside him, Hrothgar sends him an appreciative look.
"I can't tell what they're saying yet. I'll fly up and get a closer ear. Oh! Here." Chirop focused for a few moments. "Just point to me and whisper, and I'll hear you at up to forty yards."
Take 10 on Spellcraft (+10) to meet the DC 20 for Magecraft to cast message on Karlat and Cwalu.
Chirop winged his way up, staying around 20 feet above the ground as he flapped towards the flame and the people standing in front of it. When he got within sight of them, he turned to whisper to Karlat and Cwalu, "There are three of them standing near the light. Two of them are armored, one with a large sword. The third doesn't look healthy, almost like a corpse. A zombie, maybe? They look more wary than aggressive."
A green-coated crewman joins you on your way up the slope. Loralfr, you think her name was.
"Captain Arim sent me to have a look at that flame. Captain Sinteme's gone, we think."
She's holding a crossbow, but you wonder if it will be any use, the way she's shivering. "Gods, it's... cold here."
You can feel it too; there's something wrong here. It's not the air that's cold, though; the chill inside your heart is somehow unlike any natural temperature.
[You have each taken 1 point of negative energy damage.]
You may not be on Itanat anymore, but this plane, too is negative aligned. That suits you better than it would most, perhaps. At very least, you're used to it.
[You have each taken 1 point of negative energy damage, or received one point of negative energy healing, or neither, as the case may be.]
Three creatures stand by the beacon: a contruct of black armor and green smoke, a warrior, and his undead companion. Four approach with equal caution: an arcanist, two mercenaries, and a sailor.
((You’ll want a chance to introduce yourselves to each other, yes? ))