Empire Spotlight Series, Part 4: ???

Our final instalment in the Empire Spotlight Series. Rumours that something new stirs in the jungles of the Dredgelands have began to spread. Unfortunately nobody has gotten close enough to find out what; Or rather, none have returned to tell of it.

Tale: Something Strange in Harpers Rest The crew of the Spiteful Salamander were a hardy bunch. They’d sailed the seas of the Enclave together for years. They’d faced monstrous storms, the kinds that shook castles to their foundations and sent the mightiest of Winnowers quivering to their cots. They’d fought scores of the deadliest pirates that the seas had to offer, and ferocious foes that would make the most vicious of the Kaj-Tul look like a doting hen. The monsters that roamed the inky depths held no fear for these brave sailors; indeed, the last beast that thought them a tasty snack now took watch at the head of their bow.

Few alive could match their skill and cunning in battle, they would claim to enrapt audiences, all of them veterans of combat a dozen times over. Once, they’d fought their way out of a Kaj-Tul ambush whilst trading in the Spirelands. Outnumbered four to one, they used a tree trunk, some mango jam, and a sheep to turn the tide and escape the vicious djinn. Another time, whilst under attack on two fronts by bandits and a tyrannical wheat mogul, the crew disguised themselves as natives of the Courtlands, and convinced both parties to hire them as mercenaries to hunt themselves down. And of course, who could forget their famous Captain - known in every bar and tavern from Wyldwood to the Rootheart as the warrior who’d slain the dreaded Mooglebak of the town of Thell, who’d fought the hordes of the Grey Moor with naught but a broken sword and a jaunty tune, and who’d single handedly ended the terror of the Rimelands Rockbreaker.

Yes, the crew of the Spiteful Salamander had seen it all, knew it all, and done it all.

Except for whatever they were looking at now.

They first realised the problem when the evening mist that surrounded the quaint little hamlet of Harpers Rest was a little thicker than usual. The breeze carried the most unwelcome smell on a ship deck - the scent of woodfire. As they approached the shoreline, the haze cleared, and they saw it: Harper’s Rest, ablaze. Figures moved around the town, seemingly attempting to get the inferno under control, although at this distance they were merely dots on the landmass. The crew immediately began preparing to aid in the efforts; being self-serving was all well and good, but if they had no-one to trade with, it wouldn’t matter. Barrels of water and extra buckets were brought on deck, and the crew began to don long clothing and wet cloth masks. The decks were a flurry of movement - except at the helm, where the captain stood still. Something was off about this, although he couldn’t figure out what. He watched the town as it burned, flames leaping from rooftop to rooftop, people walking around to get it under control, as a plume of smoke rose…walking? The captain looked closer. The figures on shore were walking around, and at this distance, the details were unclear. One thing the captain could see however; these people were not panicking. They were not acting like they would if the village was burning down. And they were moving so strangely, almost mechanically, each line of people perfectly spaced and moving in unison. The captain hauled the rudder away from the shoreline of the Dredgelands, much to the confusion of the crew. They couldn’t really help now anyway, and the years of instinct that kept the captain alive thus far were screaming danger. They would wait, and see how things fared in the morning.

And sure enough, as morning came, captain and crew beheld a far stranger sight. For when the sun rose and the mist cleared, Harpers Rest stood before them, quiet and serene, banners of purple and green flowing gently against the calm breeze. The Spiteful Salamander’s bow cut through the waves approaching the hamlet, and in the morning light, the townsfolk could be seen going about their day as if nothing had happened. The buildings, which had only last night glowed with the brilliant crimson of an inferno, were untouched, looking for all the world like they’d remained untouched since they were first built. People fished off the small dock, and children ran through the streets, painting the picture of a perfect little coastal town. Perhaps, too perfect? The captain noticed odd details as the ship approached. The fishers on the dock cast their lines in sequence, with perfect tempo, and reeled in almost immediately. The lines cut through the air exactly the same each time. In the town, children ran in the street, but there was no laughter - no voices. They simply ran up and down the exact same lines, turning with frightening precision and efficiency. Indeed, the whole town was silent - the waves carried none of the usual clamour a crew would come to expect. Suddenly, the fishermen stopped. They turned in unison to look at the approaching ship, which had slowed to barely walking pace. As one, the group of townsfolk raised their arms, and waved; one, two, three, and drop, their hands hanging by their sides. Then again; one, two, three, drop. Five hands, perfectly synchronised, waving the exact same each time. Once again, the captain hauled on the rudder and turned them out to sea. Even once the Spiteful Salamander crested the horizon and left that strangeness far behind, the captain could still feel the eyes of the villagers. They shuddered. They had provisions enough to last them another journey.

And there was something very wrong in the quaint little hamlet of Harpers Rest.