The night was often host to the cold, especially with the end of summer. But the cold of night was always present, when set on a ship to Farhaven. Captain Julius took a break from steering, leaving the task to his helmsmen, and went to check on the ships passengers. Common folk were they, and silent as the dead. The only time he'd spoken to any of them was when they charted a ship to this godless island, where the sun never touched. They barely made sound after that, even those sickened by the sea, who from time to time would empty their gullets on their own bodies when the swaying of the boat was too much for them.
"Madam, are you sure we should really be going...
there?
Of all places?"
The woman did not look up at the ship's captain, as she sat beside a bundled tarp. In it lay her child, no older than nine, looked sightlessly at the sky above. Her skin had lost its beautiful tan, having changed to a sickly grey. The unnamed mother did not look at her daughter, nor at the captain when he tried once more to gain her attention, eyes only upon the distant shore. She remembered a tale, told by her own mother. A tale that led her on this expedition, to the abandoned fishing colony of Farhaven, where those who had left never wished to return; herself included. But she was a Farhaven wench, through and through, and she still remembered the tales of old:
"At night, when the moon is full and the fog rolls in, shall ye' hear the cries of the forgotten,
when the light of lantern's flame doth sputter out, will ye' see the veil of Mylnhta.
When the cold kisses yer skin, and ye' know the pain of loss, will ye' know despair,
and when yer' soul is thinned, and not long for this world, will ye' find Mylnhta.
But seek not the veiled woman, for yer' loved ones are all around you,
only when yer' cold and alone, should ye' go in search of Mylnhta."
~***~
@Eriddyn
|
Lorehound
| [
Role-Player
| "A flame can never be a star, no matter how bright it burns." -
Jas
.
28-Sep-2017 19:45:55
- Last edited on
28-Sep-2017 19:48:13
by
Eridyn
So, the Farhaven wench stared at her looming home, where the fog never cleared. Leaving Julius to his discomfort, as he stared at the fishing folk, some covered in their own bile, searching for someone with some semblance of a soul. When he found none, a coldness stabbed at his heart, and he shook the urge to throw them overboard. They were despondent, and harmless, he knew, and he had already taken their coin. These were not folks to save, no matter how much he might wish to. If they wished to go to their deaths in Farhaven, then he would ferry them there.
Wordlessly, the captain left the folk to their silence and returned once more to the helm, where he could be in the company of the truly living. Leaving the Farhaven folk to look to their abandoned home, where they returned in search of Mylnhta.
@Eriddyn
|
Lorehound
| [
Role-Player
| "A flame can never be a star, no matter how bright it burns." -
Jas
.
28-Sep-2017 19:47:05
- Last edited on
28-Sep-2017 19:52:06
by
Eridyn
Armand Talbot - Merchant - 27 - Lost from the Flock
"I am true divinity! I am the father of nations and peoples! I am the thing you merely pretend to be! I am God, and I am King, and you can never defeat me!" ~Galath, Infinity Blade
This is very interesting to me, I would like to help out and maybe do some germanic horror tales for Novtumberfest.
Malcolm III Chief of Clan MacFirthane | Fiona MacFirthane | Henry Percival Warcastle, Lord Warcastle