Hob and the Sustainers, having escaped the depths of the Desolate Beacon with the knowledge they sought, attempt to flee their pursuers and navigate the Barrier to reach Autumnrush.

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Scene Challenge: Escape the Pursuers, Dangerous

Roll: Face Danger, Wits – Miss; Pay the Price – Delay

And so we ran, but our pursuer had the advantage. The ship with the faded yellow sail, already close enough to see its crew when it came around the western cliffs of the island, had the wind to its tail and was making good speed. The nets needed to be stowed, or at least tucked out of the way so they were not a hazard. And then the sail would need to be raised before we could use that same wind. With each passing moment, the larger ship drew closer.

Roll: Face Danger, Iron – Miss; Pay the Price – new danger or foe

Mira’s face hardened into a scowl as the ship closed. The nets were shoved aside and, as the sail was being raised, she ordered, “To oars!” Those of us standing idle were happy to have a task. We could not out-row the winds, but we could at least gain a little speed while the sail was hoisted instead of just anxiously waiting to be caught. Perella was in no condition to row so I gently grasped her uninjured shoulder in reassurance and took her oar. The Piercing Swan began to move. We rowed east, away from both the Desolate Beacon and the longship, still closing the gap with its strong tailwind.

Mira was attempting to put the island between us and the pursuing ship. It seemed a wiser plan than retreating back to the Beacon or taking to the open sea. As the sail caught and we accelerated, a sigh passed along the crew. With the same wind, the Swan could surely outrun the larger ship, now much closer but still outside of bow range or yelling distance. Once we passed around to the eastern shore of the island, we would be able to push north back to the Ragged Coast or east to Autumnrush itself.

That relief quickly faded at the sight of a new sail, passing around the eastern shore of the island, faded stripes of orange and white. There was a second longship, smaller than the Swan, blocking our path back to the coast. The apprehension returned and was swelling towards despair.

Roll: Face Danger, Heart – Miss; Pay the Price – situation worsens

Mira gave the order to tack further south. If we could skirt the smaller ship maybe we could still outrun them along the outer edges of the Barrier.

“Do not lose hope!” I yelled. “These are just raiders. Two days ago, we slew and burned a brood of harrows. This morning, we faced the darkness and those horrors that reside within to acquire the sacred knowledge you seek. Raiders are nothing!”

Perella gave me a weak smile. They were good words. They were accurate. I had hoped they would hearten the sailors, remind them that their bravery had already accomplished so much. I imagine they would have been more impactful had the arrows not flown the moment I finished my delivery. The change in course had allowed the ship with the yellow sail to draw closer, just close enough to attempt a volley with their longbows. Most of the arrows fell short, landing in the sea just out of reach, but a few hit the rack of stowed shields along the side of the Swan (which protected the rowers as was its intent).

This was dire, if they closed any further, not only would the crew be in danger from the arrows, but the sail as well, our only hope of escape.

Roll: Face Danger, Iron – Weak Hit; Resolve the Scene Challenge – Miss

Unfortunately, the smaller ship had archers as well. Not many bows, but enough. As we skirted it, a handful of arrows hit the opposite shield rack…and a few pierced the sail, small tears, ripping wider with each gust of wind. We continued to row, trying to gain just enough speed to get back out of range. But they were too close and another volley landed, and then another, now all targeting the sail. New tears in the canvas while the old ones ripped wider, the wind becoming our foe once again. The Swan slowed, what would follow became clear. Those not on oars retrieved their shields from the racks to protect their benchmates. The faded yellow sail began to close the gap again. And then they were in range, and a dozen more arrows tore through the sail. There would be no escape now, no way to outrun them.

“Turn the prow!” Mira barked, the oars moved, the Swan was being brought around to face its pursuers. Those with bows were retrieving them and returning fire. Not in volleys, just shooting as able, attempts to force the opposing archers to find cover. The raider ships both lowered their sails, no longer needed and no longer worth risking.

Roll: Endure Stress – Weak Hit

I looked to Perella, she smiled but it was clearly forced. She was not ready for a fight, she was wounded, her audacity exhausted. I would not allow them to take her confidence. I grabbed her pack from the deck, opened it, and reached inside, digging around by touch until I found the folded cloth. Retrieving it, I handed her the Kelpa root. “Like I said, they are nothing. They will not rob you from me.” I did not smile, I was sober and honest. Her smile grew less forced, not the brash smirk I was used to but a bold sneer, a challenge to the fates, a dismissal of the inevitable. She accepted the root and began unfolding the cloth.

I stood and retrieved a shield from the rack, next to the bench in front of ours, Kaivana’s. A sturdy blue to match our tattered sail. She had left it behind when we delved under the Beacon so as to climb easier. It was hard to imagine the shield would have changed her fate had she had brought it along. But it might just help change ours.

As the Piercing Swan was brought around to face the pursuing ships, the rowers stopped and pulled the oars. We moved to the prow, a shieldwall along both sides of the bow, flanking the large carved swan figurehead, stabbing tongue and teeth and protective wings. Spears and axes and bows. Both ships rowed towards us, their prey, matching shieldwalls on their prows. They would attempt to board us and we would slay them as they tried.

I looked back at Perella, her spear in her weak hand, chewing the Kelpa root. She gave me that daring smirk, the one I had been waiting for, the one I needed to bolster my own courage. Mira was to my right, shield and axe in hand. Mohkel was behind her, firing his bow through the temporary gaps Mira and I created between our two shields. 

There was no parlay, no demands given from the raiders. Just taunts and jeers. They, like my blade. wanted blood more than spoils. And then the roar and din as their oars made the final push and their closing volleys were loosed.

Roll: Face Danger, Iron – Miss; Endure Harm – Weak Hit

The shields held but there were screams of pain nearby. Blood dripped down my arm, I hadn’t felt the wound but an arrow had pierced the shield and grazed my forearm (the first of many such scars).

And then, just before the larger ship reached us, the smaller craft veered off, no doubt hoping to board behind us. I pushed the thought aside, others would have to address that problem. I was busy with the grappling irons that were now hitting shields or landing across the deck, catching and pulling, chopping and deflecting.

Roll: Battle, Repel the Boarding, Heart – Strong Hit, opportunity

That was the day I learned the other benefit of sacrificing space on a ship for more benches and a larger crew. In addition to speed, if the extra oars were not enough to outrun a foe, the extra shields and axes and spears would be better able to repel one. The ship with the yellow sail and carved horse on its prow was half again longer than the Piercing Swan, but its crew was maybe no more than a dozen larger. A numerical advantage that was difficult for them to leverage along the narrow prows where the ships met. This confined front allowed others from our crew to move to the rear of the Swan to face the smaller longship that was attempting to board us from behind. A smaller space to defend with more hands to defend it, the raiders were not prepared for the prey that they caught.

“They are nothing!”

Interlocking shields repelled arrows and thrown spears, quick axes chopped the grapples, and boarding planks were kicked out from under the raiders as they crossed, dropping them into the sea below and the crush between the two longships. Those that managed to cross, faced spears, and then a wall of shields, and then the axes and blades behind those shields. It became clear that the raiders, though dangerous, were nowhere near as disciplined as the crew of the Swan. Three dozen Ironlanders united by faith, those who had faced the harrow mother and her brood in the infested vale, those who had braved the Desolate Beacon’s horrors to fulfil their divine task.

“They are nothing!”

At some point the tides turned, the raiders lost their courage. Their attack slowed and then paused as those next in line to board began to fear joining those before them, those floating in the crush below. So much so that their bodies refused to act. They paused, unsure of what to do next. As each of the raiders realized that it wasn’t just they alone that faltered but all of them, their eyes drifted to a young man at their front, looking for direction. A young man, very young, wearing a hunter’s braid and watching us through glistening eyes. He slowly scanned our shield wall before lowering his gaze to the few grapples and planks that remained intact. He was deciding whether they would cut the lines and retreat or renew the assault. His eyes lingered on the ropes and grapples. He was going to retreat.

I’m not really sure what I was thinking in the moment, I doubt I was thinking much at all. But realizing they were about to pull the boards and escape made me want to prevent them from doing so. Prevent them from getting their way. So I broke from the shieldwall and hopped across one of the planks to their deck. The raiders had not expected this. They took a few startled steps backwards and I instinctively advanced, claiming the space they had just abandoned. I heard others cross behind me. A beachhead on their prow, just a beach filled with axe wielding raiders instead of shroud crabs.

I risked a glance behind me. No Perella. Good. She was in no condition to cross the plank and I was glad she had stayed on the Swan. Mira was there though, Mohkel as well.

Their failed assault had withered their numbers and we now held enough space on their deck for others to follow. But still, we were the ones on the offensive now and clearing their ship would be a much more difficult and dangerous task than repelling boarders from our own. If we even succeeded, many of us would likely die in the process. But we couldn’t very well return to a ship without sail, on the far edge of the Barrier, with just oars to move and surrounded by raiders. So I tried something.

Roll: Compel, Iron, Storyweaver – Miss, complication

“You!” I pointed the blade at the young man with the glistening eyes. “Fight me for your sail!”

“Otherwise we will take it from you and kill many more of you in the process. And if you survive, your crew, *gesturing with the blade* those of them still breathing anyways, will know that you sacrificed their comrades just to avoid entering the circle against one little girl. You’ll be like Ehrin, that great Raider Prince, slain by his own crew after he lost his courage against the strength of Katrin’s Warband. Let us draw the circle! Fight me for the sail!”

“Aye!  Good points.” He chuckled. “If I am to face you, I should know your name?”

“Basira! Basira of the Blood Soaked Blade!” (I know, I know. Embarrassing and dramatic. I was trying to come across as intimidating though.) “And what is yours, dead man?”

He fully laughed at this. “Aye, Basira! I am Haf. Haf, the dead man.” His laughter subsided into a delighted chuckle.

“Well Basira, you’re right. We could draw the circle and I could face you, alone to prevent further loss to my crew. I mean, you look half dead already.” He amusedly fidgeted with and adjusted his shield. “On the other hand, *gesturing towards the crew to his sides* we could just kill the few of you standing on my ship, real quick-like, and then pull the boards before your friends can cross over to help.”

My bluster had failed. Things seemed bad and he was right. I should have exploited my position earlier, when they were startled, and claimed more space for others to cross before trying to bluff him. Now that he thought he had the advantage, he would press it.

There was a brief moment of silent anticipation for what would come next. And then a roar from both sides as weapons were raised and bodies began to clash again.

Roll: Enter the Fray, Heart, Haf & crew, Formidable – Strong Hit

Haf raised his axe and charged at me. His crew followed his lead. The man was no coward, just cunning. I lowered my shield, tried to find any remaining strength after the challenges already faced that day, roared, and charged as well. I could hear Mira and the others at my sides and more piling over the planks behind us.

Roll: Strike, Iron – Strong Hit, opportunity, clear space for one on one fight

Haf lowered his shield to match mine. He was larger than me, not by much, but enough that he was likely stronger. So I went even lower, into his legs. He lost his balance, toppling over my shield behind me as I launched myself forward, my knees almost sliding across the deck. 

As he tried to regain his feet, I rose, swinging the blade in a wide arc to clear space among the raiders now surrounding me. One of them leapt out of reach too slowly and lost the better part of his hand, raising it in front of his face at the last moment as if it would shield him from me. The blade rejoiced. Recovering from their surprise and realizing that I was alone among them, isolated from the front line and unsupported by my comrades, the raiders moved in. In two quick slashes, one lost an arm and another his neck. The others hesitated and I followed up with another wide cautionary arc to force them to again step back.

“You are nothing!” They were slow. Much slower than a harrow.

I turned back to Haf who had risen and readied himself. I could see the clashes behind him as more and more of the Swan’s crew crossed the planks to join the fight. Our countercharge had been fortunate, it had seized more ground for our comrades to join the fray.

Roll: Strike, Iron – Weak Hit

“No girl, you are nothing. Well, you’ll rot to nothing anyways.” He advanced, slower this time, a little more wary. I swung first. He was faster with his shield and followed up with a hard kick to mine. It nearly tore my arm from my socket and knocked me back, but I remained on my feet. 

Roll: Clash, Iron – Miss => Burn Momentum – Weak Hit, Swordmaster, +2 harm; Endure Harm – Strong Hit, opportunity

Haf was indeed stronger. He stepped forward and slammed the axe down on my shield, this time my elbow, still hurting from my fall under the Beacon, took the impact. The blow forced me down to a knee. In desperation I blindly slashed at his leg, he howled in pain, the blade sang. 

Roll: Strike, Iron – Weak Hit

I rose to my feet and swung the blade down. It hit the top of his shield, burying itself into it. I could hear the blade rejoice again though, so it must have reached his shoulder. 

Roll: Defy Danger, Iron, Shield Bearer – Weak Hit; Endure Harm – Weak Hit

I struggled to pull the blade back up and out, finally wrenching it free as his axe hit my shield again, Kaivana’s shield. It was starting to split. Worse yet, my shoulder and arm had grown so numb that I doubted I could raise the shield to deflect any further blows.

Roll: Turn the Tide; Strike – Strong Hit, opportunity; End the fight – Strong Hit, opportunity…double opportunities (rest of Swan crew is gaining upper hand in larger fight)

So I moved. I circled to Haf’s left, away from his axe and into his shield, towards his wounded shoulder and leg. He shuffled and twisted to face me but he was slower. His broken bones would not reassemble, his wounds would stay wounds. I lifted the blade, feigning an overhead strike. As he raised his shield to deflect, I swung in a downward arc, under his shield, quenching the blade. He lost his leg above the knee and as he fell, screaming in shock, I reversed my grip and knelt, plunging the blade into his chest. The scream stopped.

He was nothing. I rose and faced the raiders, still hesitating, just out of reach. They were nothing. I leveled the blade and advanced on the nearest. By now though, the rest of the Swan’s crew had pushed this far into their line. Their captain was slain and they were losing the ship.

Roll: Compel, Iron – Miss; Endure Harm – Weak Hit

They should have broken, they did not. They must have felt cornered…or maybe they had finally found their bravery again in the face of desperation. The raider I stepped towards flailed with his axe. I raised Kaivana’s shield in time but the impact again knocked me to my knees.

Roll: Ask Oracle, can Swan finish the fight without me or do I need to get back involved?, likely – yes

Then Mohkel was beside me, warding off the flailing raider with his spear. I didn’t black out but my body had had enough. I slowly slumped to the deck. I could no longer lift the blade, or splitting shield, or even my own body. I remember, in a haze, watching Mira and the rest of the Sustainers push the remaining raiders back. They found their fight too late and could no longer hold the ship. Those that weren’t cut down leapt over the stern into the sea. I vaguely recall the orange and white sail of the smaller longship. I learned later that it had been repelled when trying to board our rear and stopped to rescue the raiders that had leapt overboard before fleeing to the north, the way it had come from and the way we were going.

After that is blurry.

Roll: Ask Oracle, sustain heavy losses?, unlikely – No

Roll: Heal – Weak Hit; Resupply – Weak Hit; Make Camp – Strong Hit

There were wounded to tend and losses to mourn. Katania, Sendra, and Zhan had perished during the brutal clash. Muna and Parcell would succumb to their wounds soon. And Jihan would likely lose his leg. I was close to none of them but they were my comrades and they would be honored, their sacrifices had saved us all.

My wounds tended, I turned back to Haf. Tucked in his belt, I found a map of the eastern Barrier. Names for the numerous smaller unnamed (or at least previously unnamed) islands along the uninhabited outer edge as well as various landmarks had been added to the map with a sloppier hand. I took the twisting silver bracelet from his axe arm and retrieved his shield, a crimson circle within a larger yellow circle, as trophies. 

Prying the shield from his still hand, I noticed a boar’s head on the forearm. Lifting the sleeve revealed the tattoo winded and wove from wrist to shoulder. When I told Perella later, she said it sounded like a brand of fealty, an oath recorded on the shield arms of those in a warband to pledge their shields to defend their master. I had never seen a warband so was not familiar with the custom, but other boars were also found on the raiders’ dead and wounded as they were dumped overboard so the explanation seemed likely. I had never heard of a warleader or raidcaptain associated with this animal though, even from the stories.

The sail was retrieved and moved to the Swan, and the various chests and barrels were searched. Enough water and food to fill our stores. Jewelry, some of it still stained with the blood of its previous owners, was found in the raiders’ personal chests. Mira dispersed these, along with the fallen’s arms and shields, to the crew of the Swan, priority given to those that were wounded while clearing the ship. The finer pieces were set aside for the families of those who had perished during the expedition, once we returned to Autumnrush. No great wealth, but it was their share and might soften the loss in some small way. I handed Mira Haf’s silver bracelet to be added to those shares. It was too large for my wrist anyways. She provided me a small lapis ring in return, “You’ll still need a share.”

Returning to the Swan, Perella embraced me and led me back to our bench to rest. She was unharmed, well no further harmed since the battle had started. Her lap was warm from the Kelpa and it was difficult not to doze.

Everything of value having been transferred from the captured ship, we prepared to depart. Mira ordered axes be taken to the hull before we left. The ship no longer had a sail and our crew was too wary and small to row it along with us. We could not leave it afloat for the surviving raiders to reclaim. So it was sunk. We rowed north for a time until the slowly sinking ship was in the distance, and then, in the dusk of the now setting sun, we paused to commit our fallen. Far enough away that they would not commingle with the slain of our foes. I witnessed but I was too weak to give words. The crew was sullen, the second committal that evening.

Then Mira ordered we row to the island, the one we had originally planned to shore on for the night. Haf’s map identified it as “Spotter’s Ridge.” There was indeed a ridge, high enough to spot things from. I wondered if they had watched us from that same ridge before they attacked. In silence, the crew pulled for the flat beach on the eastern shore. We reached it as dusk faded. The Swan was shored and camp was quickly prepared, racing against the thickening clouds that would soon take the moon’s light.

Those uninjured took shifts at watch in case the raiders returned, but Perella and I were able to rest without interruption. I slept heavily. We remained at Spotter’s Ridge the following day and night as well. The sail we had taken from the raiders, a large sail for a larger ship, needed to be trimmed and hemmed before use on the Swan. Arrows needed to be cleared from the ship and minor damages from grapples and axes during the raiders’ failed boarding attempt needed to be repaired.

I continued to recover much of the day. Mira studied the journal we had retrieved from the carvings chamber. By early evening, Perella and I felt rested enough to take the short path to the island’s peak, already scouted by others that morning. It was a quick climb and the path had clearly been used before, free of any of the isle’s sparse vegetation. The peak wasn’t high but it was high enough, Spotter’s Ridge was an apt name. From the top, we could see in all directions, our vision only obscured by the few larger islands to the east and the Beacon’s tall plateau to the south. 

Below, Mira sat on a chest, still scrutinizing the book under the fading light. We watched the sailors rig the now trimmed and fitted sail to the Swan. We could barely hear Mokhel attempting to teach the others the new rowers’ chant he had been composing the whole day they had worked. It was unfinished, about the expedition. I did not know most of the words yet (he sang quietly, almost mumbled, as he worked them out, restructructing and swapping to fit the rhythm). But everyone on the island knew the refrain by now (that part was complete, so he got louder whenever he sang it), a solemn repeated “blood on the brine, blood on the brine.” His voice was mournful yet driven, and the sailors did not seem to mind the constant reminder of recent losses. In fact, it seemed this was one of the ways they made sense of them, braced themselves for future tragedies not yet known, tied them together to a purpose and reason.

There was no sign of the escaped raiders. No sign of the sunken longship or the desperate battle of the previous evening. It was a pleasant view and we held hands and moved closer to shield each other from the wind.

We returned just after the sun set, still dusk. The moon was already shining brightly and meals were being prepared. Spirits were better that night and we rested easier knowing that those on watch from the peak would have plenty of time to raise the alarm if any ship approached under the clear moonlight.

The next morning, we left the shore and set sail, a bright morning with bright hopes.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Weak Hit

Mark Progress: Expedition Vow – Fix sail and continue voyage

Mira was wary to follow the path of the escaped raider longship to the north and so we instead pushed east among the Barrier. Clouds began to roll in. A large elongated island lay to our south and numerous smaller isles to our north. Haf’s map labeled all of them “the Broken Isles”. Any mention of the word “Broken” instills worry but I had hoped the name was just a reference to the small isles’ jagged cliffs making them appear to have broken off and drifted away from the larger island to their south.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Miss, complication

The clouds grew thicker, darker now, and as we passed the edge of the long island to the south, the wind began to pick up, a strong northern gale. We could feel the air tense, it would storm soon. The cliffs to the north began to look more ominous. I had the unsettling realization that they were likely called the Broken Isles on account of the wind breaking ships upon them. Mira was already in action. We tacked to the northeast, hoping to pass the treacherous islands before the storm worsened.

Roll: Face Danger, Wits – Miss; Endure Stress –  Miss, shaken

We didn’t beat the storm, as the rains began, the gusts lengthened and shifted to the northwest. The sail, now foe more than friend, was brought in and we lowered the oars. Perella’s shoulder had not yet healed so I again took hers. The going was slower but, with the sail down, the wind was less able to push us towards the rocks. Now it was just waves to fight. The waves were growing larger though. I strained. We all strained, but it seemed so futile. 

Of all of the trials of the voyage up to that point, this was the one that seemed insurmountable. Harrows and shifting hunters and skeletal horrors and raiders. These were foes to face, terrifying but surmountable. The waves though, we could not defeat the waves. It seemed that even the Gods had turned against us. The clap of Kara’s shield, immovable and unyielding, swelling the tides and breaking the waves. I had never felt so defeated. I could row no longer, if the Gods wanted us to perish, we would surely perish. I sat in a daze, Perella shook me, I was afraid to look back at her. She would perish as well.

Thankfully the crew of the Swan were less discouraged by storms and shoals. They were sailors, weathered by the waves, and they would not stop struggling against the sea so long as it had yet to take their breath. They continued to row and I was jarred back from despair by a jolt and an eruption of cursing from behind me. The sailor behind me’s oar, Talan’s, had collided with my own as it hovered suspended and motionless. My resignation was impeding my comrade, my comrades, who had refused surrender to the insurmountable and had pressed forward. I would not allow myself to become an obstacle to them. My will was shaken but not broken. I looked back at Perella but I could not smile. I hoped the rain concealed my tears and shame. And then, I continued to row.

And by continuing to row, we escaped the Broken Isles. But the storm did not subside, it worsened. The waves rose and crashed over the racks of shields, down onto us. We were taking water faster than we could bail it. We would need to find safety somewhere to ride it out. I could not see from my bench, but Mira could, and she gave the order. We rowed for a small isle to the east, hoping for a cove or beach to shore.

Roll: Face Danger, Heart – Weak Hit

At some point I found my resolve. If Mira and the Swan refused to surrender to the seas, I would not. I would remain loyal to my vow. We were still unable to raise the sail as the headwinds were blowing back towards the broken cliffs we had just narrowly escaped. So we continued to row and eventually we reached the island. It was small but tall, lanky? No life, just rocks. We found a cove to the north, sheltered from the southern gales by the island itself. Entering the cove, we anchored and spread the sail over the deck to shield us from the rain until the storm passed. A miserable time in a poor tent. I was raised on an isle but I was no sailor or fisher and had never faced such an angry sea. I huddled in shaken awe, reflecting on how resolute the Swan’s crew were to face such force with such strength.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Weak Hit

And so we waited and eventually the storm subsided. Mira decided we should push north, sailing through the night to reach the coast. At least there, away from the cliffs and rocks of the Barrier, we could find safe harbor from further storms. And so we raised the sail and pressed on. It was still windy, cold, and lightly raining but what choice did we have? Stay in the cove until morning or try to navigate the isles in the dark? An audible sigh of relief passed through the crew when the rain finally broke and dawn revealed the Ragged Coast, its safe fjords and beaches stretching from one horizon to another.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Miss

Soon after, the coughs started. Everyone knew what this was, the strain and the storm and the wet and the cold meant sickness. It would only get worse if we weren’t able to dry out and warm by fires. I could feel Perella’s coughs reverberate through her arm and into her hand. I grasped it reassuringly. No, not reassuringly, anxiously.

Roll: Heal – Strong Hit; Make Camp – Strong Hit

We landed within a nearby fjord. It was narrow and shallow. Those of us that were able, started fires so the sick could dry. Then we all huddled around the flames until the rain, storm, the Broken Isles, and unnamed cove were just unpleasant memories, things in the past, things behind us. The heat restored us and, though the coughs remained, they did not worsen and would just linger for a few days as a reminder of the desperate storm and chilled night of sailing.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Strong Hit

By mid-day, the sun had returned and we were warm, hot even. We put out the fires, boarded, and then pushed east. With luck, we might reach Galehope by nightfall, a fishing circle which I was told “can’t be too far east of here”. The day was the opposite of that prior. The sun warmed us and the wind, though steady, remained at our backs. We reached Galehope before the sun began to set. A small village on the mouth of a fjord. A few dozen modest buildings and an ancient but well maintained dock.

Roll: Sojourn – Strong Hit

Mark Progress: Expedition Vow – Return to the relative safety and familiar shores of the Ragged Coast

We docked the Swan and Galehope welcomed us for the night. They were used to travelers and, likely on account to their proximity to Autumnrush, had a surprisingly large amount of goods in their storehouse for trade. Some of the jewelry was exchanged to replace the food we had eaten in the three days since we’d captured Haf’s ship. More importantly though, we were able to build fires and camp on the outskirts of the village in relative security. We drank and boasted of trials and victories, of comrades fallen and foes slain, and I managed to forget that the Gods had tried to dash us against cliffs the day prior. The hard land, the fishers nearby, it filled holes in me, holes I didn’t realize had been dug. Had it only been four days since we left Brokefall? It felt like an eternity at the edge of the Barrier, the wilds between the Ironlands and the open sea. Had it only been two weeks since I’d left the Gate? It seemed so distant. So quickly it had become distant.

Roll: Undertake a Journey – Strong Hit; Undertake a Journey – Strong Hit

We slept well and sailed at first light. It was another pleasant day and we made good time. This part of the Ragged Coast was familiar to all. All but me, of course. The coast veered to the north here and, after a time, would apparently swing back east to Autumnrush. Mira ordered we leave the coast and sail northeast, no reason to follow the coast when they knew exactly where to point the prow to arrive home. Leaving sight of the coast to reach a destination along that same coast felt odd to me. But they were all so confident and excited to be so close to our journey’s end that I trusted they were right. So we left the coast behind us, a quick journey back to the open sea. And then, there was the shoreline again, its mountains less tall than those we had left but only slightly less steep.

Roll: Reach Your Destination – Strong Hit

Mark Progress: Expedition Vow – Reach Autumnrush; Blade Vow – Reach Autumnrush (finally first tick!)

Roll: Fulfill Your Vow, escort expedition to Beacon and back to Autumnrush, formidable – Strong Hit

We were sailing directly for a gap between two peaks, a fjord. As we drew closer I noticed the bright crimsons of a longship sail. It was moored to a small dock on a hilled island, almost perfectly centered in the mouth of the fjord. Atop the hill sat a small fort. “Mouth’s Watch.” Perella informed me.

It was a warship, even larger than Haf’s had been. The crew was camped on the island nearby, lounging around the dying fires from their mid-day meal. They barely seemed to notice our approach, apparently confident that their presence alone would deter any brazen raiders.

We sailed past Mouth’s Watch, its flanking peaks and lazing guardians. And then the water opened and the shores softened into gentle slopes. And there it was in the distance, straddling the head of the wide fjord. 

Autumnrush!

It was massive even at a distance. Overwhelming. I had not known that humans could live on such scale, except for maybe in the legendary cities of the Old World. The Twin Pillars were the first thing to capture my gaze, atop a hill to the east of the fjord’s head. Side by side but one twice the height of the other, even taller than the Desolate Beacon. Below the Pillars lie the port itself, much more than a circle, as if dozens of circles had been settled alongside and merged into one another. A river split the port in half, the Bas, the gateway to the Havens and the new world. Numerous docks and bright sails lined each side of the river’s mouth and the settlement spread out to the south, gradually thinning and dispersing along both sides of the fjord’s shores.

We passed farms stretching along the gentle slopes of the banks and the occasional empty dock, its boats away and working. We exchanged greetings with dozens of fishers and a few merchant ships that were heading back out to sea.

They say this was where the first Pillars were found. After the coast had been explored and the Havens discovered, it was the final landing for many that fled the Old World. And as those that moved inland to the Havens built and thrived, Autumnrush served as the primary trade and travel hub between them and coastal circles. The Bas providing a safe and easy passage for those unwilling to risk the perils of the Deep Wilds to the west or the horrors of the Flooded Lands to the east. I realized how naive I was, thinking a village like Stoneharbor was a trade port. I stared in wonder at the unknown mysteries of the predating Pillars. At the unimaginable amount of Ironlanders that had settled together, more people than I had ever met in my entire life up until that point. Nay, ten times more. One hundred times? If a swordsmith existed along the coast, they would definitely be found here…and I was thankful to be arriving with Perella and Mira and the rest of the Swan. I was thankful I had missed Kanno’s ship back in Stoneharbor. I couldn’t imagine the terror of stepping off-ship to a place like this with no friends.

Thankfully, I did have friends, and as we docked the Piercing Swan, they were able to shepherd me, awed and slack jawed, to our destination, the Sustainer camp. I was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, so many people and so much noise, that I don’t remember much from that first landing. I remember seeing more moored ships than I had ever seen in one place. I remember the docks alone stretching longer than all of Sota’s Gate, from fort to shore. I mostly remember Perella’s hand, gently pulling me forward through the Grain Market and its maze of packed stalls and packed bodies. I remember realizing just how large the longhouses on the hills upriver must have been to see them so clearly from below. I remember the confusing weaving path through the identical narrow streets. 

And then the narrow streets abruptly ended. Pillar Hill, a circular field around the twin columns, unsettled and avoided as the port grew around them. But though the streets and buildings had stopped short, the field was occupied. Numerous camps, the rival factions of the Iron Priests, all drawn to the Pillars and all at odds with each other. The crossroads between the clashing truths of the Pillars’ nature and purpose. I remember the glares as we weaved between the camps, and then we were there. The Sustainer camp, a blur of new faces, rejoicing embraces, tears and consoling. Mira and the crew of the Swan had returned from their expedition and my vow was fulfilled.