Prologue: Fog & Vine

The night was cold, bitter, pungent, and alive with danger- Aesop was enjoying it thoroughly. The lake was in turmoil. Aesop looked out over the eerie stillness of the foggy air, it smelled wrong. There was an alien presence that was infecting the area. It felt like a parasite in his marrow. It scratched and clawed in his bones, borrowing, making his skin crawl. He opened his journal and took note:

Lake Woebegone. Something’s happening here. The trail in Wave had just gone cold. Unusually volatile fog is perhaps eviscerating any chance I had at finding the party tonight. Bill seems to think they’re on their way to Ripple, evidence in Wave seems to indicate he’s right. I talked to no locals though, not sure yet who I can trust here. I’ve set out in a dilapidated vessel. Unclear where this job is heading at this point, but I feel alive. I feel…whole. Since Garth told me of his encounter with the group, I’ve never been closer to them.

Must remember to ask Bill about the vines and foliage that ravage this lake, I’ve never seen anything quite like it…

Aesop pushed into the foggy night as he wrote, his fishing boat propelled at the front by a giant squid. Aesop’s hands were free to scribe, he glanced up occasionally. The squid had two large tentacles wrapped around the back of the small dinghy, and it crawled and pulled itself along the vines that choked the lake’s surface with menacing tendrils. The squid’s suckers shlocked and popped as it readjusted its grip and pulled the vessel onwards.

Without warning or forecast, Aesop looked up to see that the fog was cleared. Not entirely true. The fog was still thick and foreboding behind him, but his boat sat in huge clearing of the mist, at least 300 meters wide in diameter. The haze formed a large wall around the island at the center of the lake, twisted vines at it’s foundation. The effect was like being in the eye of a hurricane. The air was clean and still, the water was crystal refined, its surface reflected bright stars and moonshine.

Never mind… there’s a semblance of clarity now.

Aesop reached into one of his many pockets that lined the inside of his hooded cloak. He pulled out a small, simple looking dagger from a built in scabbard that lay within. Muttering a few Draconic words beneath his breath, he tapped the journal with the tip of the blade, the neat concise handwriting garbled itself into random characters and scratchings. He folded the leather cover around the journal and tucked it away into his sack. Looking up, he squinted at the island drawing nearer, quickly making out a spot in the beach where a boat had landed recently. Aesop raised his dagger to the island, and spoke aloud into the dark night.

“Faster.”

The Draconic word whipped into the air with a crack, and the squid darted beneath the surface. The water surged and churned as it jetted from it’s tube-like “funnel”, it’s tentacles blooming and contracting with sinister grace as the boat skipped along the surface.

Moments later the cephalopod reached shoreline with a squelch. It slowy oozed itself onto the pebble-strewn beach and sat, his giant, placid eye staring up at the moon.

Aesop rose from his sitting position on the aft thwart. Gathering his things, he strode gracefully to the front of the boat and hopped off. His clean black boots landed on the shore, and he continued in his stride, simultaneously he raised a crossbow to his eye line. Scanning the not so distant horizon he noticed no movement. The island felt deserted, but just so. The eerie calm made Aesop smile. He slung the crossbow by the strap across his back. Returning to the front of his boat, Aesop removed the dagger that he had been gritting in his teeth and extended his long arm towards the squid, the tip of the blade nearly touching it’s obsidian iris.

“Dispel.”

The squid eye surged forward, pulled into the dagger with a powerful suction. The blade swallowed the squid bit by bit starting from it’s squishy face, the tentacles disappearing last with an audible “thock”. Aesop smiled. He always loved that illusion, enjoyed the way it returned to it’s source. It was never the same thing twice.

Aesop was a tall man. He was built but wiry, his frame lean, his head bald. He was pale and his skin was half glowing in the bright moonlight, the reflection dancing playfully off his naked skull. He pulled his cloak over his head. Speaking aloud in common, he broke the silence of the isle once more.

“ Be it friend or foe, ye need not fear me;

Loved or scorned need tread not lightly.

For some may appear false

and quiver into deerlings.

but I bring nothing but dread and good tithing.

I am of the moon, both tethered and free.

I whittle foes into friends and twist blades into trees.”

His voice was bright but soft. The treble in it mixed delicately with a low, bass-y rumble underneath. He strode with grace and purpose towards the center of the island. His cloak billowed slightly in his wake, a pleasant hum filled the air. He tried to match its resonance to a chord in his head. D minor. Simple and clear, but a haunting harmony. He smiled with a sense of affection touching the corners of his mouth. He drew his rapier Cadenza deftly, the metal thrummed its chord into the night, a bright B flat Major, otherwise known as an A sharp. Cadenza was a simple but effective sword, it was perfectly weighted and made with the finest steel. It was an extension to his hand, his whole body. When fighting it flicked and flourished with ease and speed. “Cadenza” is a musical term referring to a passage of music improvised by a performer in which virtuoso ability might be showcased. It was named by his mentor upon completion of Aesop’s extensive training. Aesop found himself having to push the memory of Master Kvone from his mind. Business to attend to, no time for such things. His eyes grew solemn, while a wry smile remained fixed on his face.