The Wailing Rocks

Gideon was a failed man, there was no doubt about that. He paced the small craft nervously checking with his appointed crew occasionally to silently count down the hours until he faced whatever consequences waited for him at The Wailing Rocks. Three days, two, five hours. They'd be mooring soon. He ran a hand through his once neatly coiffed greying hair and excused himself to the tiny quarters designated for the captain of the vessel. If there was any chance that he made it out of this he couldn't allow his crew to see any more weakness than he'd already shown. Here he was able to allow himself to tremble, to bite his lips, and bury his face into the dusty pillows out of shame and fear.

A knock came at the door a short while later, startling him awake - he hadn't even noticed falling asleep. How many minutes went by unused? Not that, that really mattered he supposed. He took a moment to wipe his face with his hands - willing away any redness that might remain before he opened the heavy metal door to find his newly appointed second in command. Gideon could never remember his name. Stalwick maybe? Harrison Stalwick. Yes, that was it.

"What?"

The young man saluted awkwardly. "We've arrived Inquisitor. The crew would like to unload and make contact with Inquisitor Amir's team."

Gideon had always found his over-enthusiasm for the mission annoying - straight down from his shaved head to his insistence on wearing an arcanists' robes embellished with the Ruin's insignia.

"Let me worry about contacting Amir. Busy yourself with unloading and making camp. Thank you Stalwick."

He quickly shut the door, muffling his second's correction, "It's Stackman, Sir!"

Lace was never quite this annoying, he thought bitterly. He almost regretted leaving her behind. Gathering the few belongings he had left here, his short-sword, a decorative dagger, his well-worn spellbook...the unusual purple crystal. He looked it over, momentarily as transfixed as he was the first time he saw it - the facets mirroring his fractured portrait within, an unwelcome sight at this current juncture. He pocketed it a moment later and reopened his door - sweeping through the vessel with the firm resolve of a dead man.

Leaving the cramped submarine was like entering into a whole new world after nearly a week of travel without seeing the sky - and now it was raining. Gideon looked sourly at the clouds overhead. Fate, it would seem, was not without a sense of humor. Stackman called to him from across the rocky shoreline where the crew was carrying cargo up a steep slope. One man, weighed down by an oiled canvas wrapped parcel of large scroll cases, slipped on the slick rocks and fell, barely being caught by another crew mate.

"Careful!" He barked over the sound of the sizzling rain, "We can't afford to have any more losses!"

The two men nodded, and quickly resumed their work. Gideon snuffed aside a trickle of rain that had fallen onto the tip of his nose, and then proceeded to meet Stackman - who had turned back to checking off items on the manifest.

"Do you have a report for me?"

Stackman quickly clapped the top of the clipboard down to shield the pages from the rain, and gave Gideon a sharp salute. "Yes Inquisitor. We've begun unloading our cargo as you can see. Esteth and Bale have gone ahead to scout the immediate area and set up camp. You should have a dry area to quarter in within the next ten minutes."

Gideon nodded. "Good. Make sure to keep the books and scrolls as dry as possible in the meantime. If you need anything else..." He paused for a moment before continuing with a vague look of disgust, "keep it to yourself."

Stackman gave him another enthusiastic salute before immediately shouting to another crewman. What was said, however, was completely lost to Gideon. He was already planning what he would say to Amir when he called.

"Hi, I completely lost our position in Caeryn, but I found you these neat rocks. Watch out for the interlopers we failed to stop..." No...he had to couch it in a way that just might spare his life.

He found a somewhat secluded spot down further on the shoreline under a craggy overhang and sighed, working his way up to what came next - three drawn signs in the air that left faint glowing trails and the name of who he was contacting.

"Muraheed Amir"

"Gideon. Good tidings I hope?" The hazy image of Muraheed came into view, shot through by the occasional stray raindrop. Hulking, square jaw, dark hair cropped short to reveal the concentric circles of a tattoo underneath - a giant with the marks of a tribe on the other side of the continent. He smirked, seemingly already aware of the bad news that would follow. Gideon inhaled sharply.

"We've just docked our craft at The Wailing Rocks, and camp will be made shortly with plans to travel across the strait first thing tomorrow. We have with us a shipload of cargo that will hopefully prove useful, as well as one item in particular that will potentially further our cause."

Muraheed nodded."Good, good. We'll await your return. I'm eager to hear of news from Caeryn."

Gideon dipped his head stiffly in return, and then ended the spell - the ghostly appearance of the giant dissipating into the mist. He relaxed his shoulders, suddenly aware of just how tightly wound he was. He wasn't out of the water yet, and there wasn't much consoloation in finally being here - but surviving this small hurdle felt like a gulp of fresh air while drowning.

He returned to the bottom of the slope, where the last few groups of people were moving cargo. Stackman was nowhere to be seen, so he pushed past the workers, stepping easily up the slick rocks with the air of a pair of newly acquired enchanted boots. A lucky find in Caeryn.

The top of the slope openend up to a large flat stony area covered with a layer of wet moss. Scraggly weeds bearing small white flowers dotted the area, springing up from between cracks in the ground. On the far edge of the flat was a grove of dense conifers, bent slightly with the southerly wind. Beyond that - the rest of the small island - was largely uninhabited, save for them. Gideon skirted the edge of the camp and entered the edge of the woods where he could be away from both crew and rain.

The forest was much quieter than the rocky slab where they were camped - the crashing of the waves and coursing wind filtered by the dense woods. What remained was the steady pattering of the rain and a chill breeze. Gideon wrapped his oilskin cloak tighter across his folded arms and peered through the foliage to try and spot his scouts. They had been gone less than an hour - but there wasn't a noticeable sign of them.

"Good," he thought. It would give him another moment of blessed privacy before needing to return to acting the competent leader. He leaned against a rough pine and wiped his face with his hands, rubbing into his eyes to ease the headache he'd been harboring for days. Tomorrow they'd be taking a small ship across the strait to begin their long march from the southern tip of the Skithmoor Republic to Rima, Mourncliff's capital across the mountains to the north. Amir likely would have sent ahead a squad to meet them at their landing. A pit landed in Gideon's stomach as the realization sunk in - there'd be no way to mitigate the reality of the situation.

"Fuck." He spat the curse and ran his hands up to his hair, gripping at it tightly as he sunk down the trunk of the tree - his breath coming quicker. "Fucking fuck." What if he ran? The boats meant for his crew to meet with Amir's team were moored through these woods on the other side of the island... what would stop him from taking one to Varralin where he could easily disappear back to Caeryn (or better yet) back to his hometown in Darth - far far away from here. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the woods around him for any new sign of his scouts - when he saw nothing he began to stand.

Who...do you think you are...

He froze as he felt an icy hand travel up his ankle, followed by another one, and another - creeping up past his hips and up his spine. "N-no please!" He choked, digging his nails into the bark behind him as his tried to force himself up.

Gideon...Gi...Gideon... ...eon... Gideon...

Overlapping whispered voices became the wind around him, rising into a gale that licked at his clothes and sent a biting, sinking chill throughout his body. The woodland around him, however, appeared unaffected.

...speak...

The hands, now tickling gently at the nape of his neck and shoulders - suddenly gripped him tightly, sharply forcing his face down into the wet mulch. He sobbed into the dirt, filled with a fear that transcended his fear of the other inquisitor. "A servant - y...your servant."

Lo...look...ook a...look at me. Look at me...

Esteth considered herself to be a good scout, a great one even. She came from a simple half-elven family on the outskirst of Caeryn, and had been a champion in her community for bringing home all manner of prize game. Therefore she was the first to react to the sound of something falling through the brush behind her.

She nudged her companion, Bale, a redheaded human that had been examining tracks through the leaf litter, and signaled for him to follow with weapons drawn. Her intuition told her that whatever made the sound was larger than what this island was known for - inhospitable, but rather small wildlife. It spoke to something dangerous - which was exactly the reason why she had pushed for camping on the bluff instead of in the woods. If anyone else had decided to make berth on this island it would be a problem. Ahead, through the trees, Esteth spotted her game - a heavily obscured herd of deer was grazing on some low bushes. Nothing of any concern. She lowered her readied bow and signaled again to Bale that it was ok.

"The tracks I saw looked big, E." Bale whispered, pulling his hood up to ward off the wet.

"Were they fresh?" Esteth wasn't taking her eyes off the herd or the surrounding trees, still on high alert despite the evidence.

"Hard to tell...could be a wildcat," he paused, picking up on Esteth's continued watchfulness, "Hopefully just a wildcat..." He lowered his hood again and put a hand to the hilt of his short-sword, scanning the woods behind them.

A twig snapped, spooking the herd of deer. Esteth quickly dropped to a crouch, and motioned to the nearest fir as cover. Peering out from behind the tree she could see the silhouetted figure of a man walking very casually through the woods. Her brows knit together in confusion, but she waited with her bow drawn.

A breathless moment passed, and then the figure came into focus. Dark, rain-slicked hair, oilskin cloak, deep burgundy surcoat...the Inquisitor.

"Sir!" Esteth stepped out from cover and greeted her commander. "We haven't finished scouting, it's not safe."

Gideon seemed to snap out of a daze, the scout seemingly peeling away from the woods in front of him. "I had personal matters to accomplish - of no concern to you. I trust you haven't seen anything that would endanger us thus far?"

"Of course, Inquisitor." Esteth bowed slightly "Not in the flesh yet - no. Bale spotted some large tracks that we'll investigate - but I doubt it's anything of real danger."

"Good, report back to me at camp once you return." Gideon dismissed the scout, barely looking at her before walking past the two of them back towards the bluff.

"Yes Inquisitor." Esteth nodded, and then motioned for Bale to follow her. They had tracks to investigatge.