Her Abyssal Melody
W
ind swept across the salt-stained deck of the Emerald Nymph as Dr. Pericus Hadal strode across the docked ship, notebook in hand. Looking from his vantage point, he noted that the Bornham harbor was bare and all but abandoned save for the two ships preparing to embark on the Calèdare Sea. The rickety piers that led up to the expedition's fresh gangways looked as if they would give out from the sailors' heavy feet as they toiled to move supplies. Anchored a hundred feet to the Nymph's portward side was another ship known as the Wynter's Claw, a war-vessel commissioned from the Prismatic Host in Jaddregos. He couldn't help but wonder why the Institute had interests this far south of Eo' Wissae, and why he was the one selected to head the venture when his expertise was on the northern, untainted waters of the continent.After a brief moment of introspection, Dr. Hadal reached into his white coat and pulled out a Quill of the Dictator. He tapped the tip of the instrument twice on the old wood of the banister beside him and a small droplet of cerulean ink fell from it. He let go of the quill and it seemed to float mid-air where he last held it, suspended in some enchantment invisible to the untrained eye. He slicked back his dark, damp hair to eliminate a possible distraction to his work and the magic, ink-laden feather quivered in anticipation. He thumbed open the new notebook to the first, clean page and spoke in a manner that resembled flowing water.
“First of Ilan, nineteen sixty-four, After Lightfall. Doctor Pericus Hadal of Sigil Institute. Calèdare Log one. Begin log,” he said, as the enchanted quill began to move and write on its own.
Hadal went on for roughly five minutes, detailing every aspect of his first day aboard the Emerald Nymph. Water as black as pitch lapped at the barnacle-encrusted hull of the ship and freezing sea spray speckled across Hadal's kelpy green skin as he monologued. The Sister Moons had begun to peek above the horizon as the faded yellow spot of the sun sank below the thin skyline. In a pause of his dictation, a loose board from the deck creaked behind him under a hefty boot. The aging plank betrayed the approach of the ship's half-orcish owner and captain, Oradim. He wore a stained navy blue overcoat and a black visor hat with a sizable bite taken out of its side. The crimson-toned captain moved to join Hadal at the ship's taffrail and smoked from a yellow corncob pipe.
The two men stood side by side in silence, watching the umbral waters and sea scum flow around the ship. Wisps of tobacco smoke drifted through the air and mixed with the scent of dead fish and salt to form something entirely unique, causing Hadal's nose to wrinkle. Last calls for those embarking on the expedition rang out through the docks, and men of all sizes brought aboard the final crates and barrels of provisions. The main deck of the Nymph was buzzing with activity as sailors began to ready the ship's facilities for her journey into the Sea of Sorrows. Shouting from the Wynter's Claw, a green-scaled dragonborn waved towards Captain Oradim and Dr. Hadal.
“THE CLAW IS READY! AWAITING YOUR COMMAND, SIR!”, he barked.
Hadal's attention turned to Oradim as his gaze broke from the slip below and he asked, “Are the Jibber Stones secured in my quarters, captain?”
“Of course, Wissian,” the half-orc grinned, revealing gnarled teeth and two gold-capped tusks set in his bottom jaw. “Your people pay us well, so we mustn't disappoint; bad for business!”
Captain Oradim clapped a hand on Dr. Hadal's back reassuringly as he strode off. Hadal couldn't help but linger on the scar, no, a brand that peeked out just above the captain's shirt moments prior. It looked to be the tip of a double-edged sword wreathed in fire outlined in black ink. He knew there were innumerable mercenary companies that roved about the wastes of Vasara, but was unsure of whom he was associated with. What have I been thrown into, he thought. Just who does the Headmaster have me working with?
Below deck, Hadal sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair that had been bolted to the floor infront of a shabby desk, which had also been secured. The ship gently swayed left, then right, then left again and he watched as his loose personal supplies shifted across the room. He found it difficult to formulate his thoughts while he adjusted to his surroundings and had, for the better part of the first night at sea, been fiddling with a Jibber Stone in his quarters. The rock had two, formed lips on its front side held shut by a brass zipper. On its back was a carved sigil that resembled a human tongue.
Hadal set the Jibber Stone between two of his heavier tomes on the desk and pulled the lip's zipper open. The once rigid, rocky mouth parted and let out a sighing breath, as if the stone had been holding it the whole time. Looking over his shoulder, he ensured that the door behind him was indeed locked - it was. He wet the tip of his forefinger on his right hand and pressed it to the sigil on the back of the rock. A soft, pulsating, cerulean light spilled from the arcane scrawling, and the item seemed to wait on his input.
“The Sea of Sorrows has so far proved to be a vile place in comparison to all other seas. In the northern Atlëan Bay, I swam with schools of fish so colorful, so vibrant, for hours without so much as breaking the surface. The water there was cleaner than any other I had previously hydropneated - er, breathed through my gills, for those cursed to only have lungs. Here, we have dead fish covered in glowing green pustules exploding against the hull of our ship, leaving us with a stench that makes one's eyes water and stomach churn. I watched a swollen, bulbous, cancer-ridden whale breach and spew the viscous, dark sea from its blowhole, and what I saw come with it...”
He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the thought, before continuing to speak at the rock. Its lips moved in tandem with his own, silently mouthing along to his monologue.
“Despite my initial repugnance, I can not help but believe I belong here, that I am meant to be sailing the Calèdare on the Emerald Nymph. I am not a pious man and yet I feel a pull, a calling that emanates from the darkest reaches at the bottom of the Tumored Depths. I can feel Her gaze upon me now, though I am unable to discern if it is filled with disdain, malice, or compassion. I now understand why Headmaster Sigilis selected me to head this particular excursion into this southern sea. I am a Thalassian, a supposed child of Our Lady in Green, Marëanna.”
On the second night of the expedition, Hadal stood at the taffrails of the Nymph once again and stared at the trailing Wynter's Claw. Her two flags flapped in the wind above the crow's nest. The one at the top bore a simplified blue draconic visage on a yellow background, while the other had a flaming red greatsword on a black background. Hadal recognized the first one as a mock-up of the more intricate standard of Jaddregos. The second one was familiar, though he could not place a name to it; the design was almost identical to Captain Oradim's chest brand.
In the wake and sea foam, speckles of blue light began to blink into existance deep below the surface of the water. All at once, the sea around the passing ships began to glow a dim azure coloration. Leaning against the banister, Hadal looked directly down and saw the sources of these strange lights; jellyfish the size of floating paper lanterns. Their shape was reminiscent of the Lunar Lanterns that dotted the dark skies over the Elysian Bastions on nights in which both of the Sister Moons were full. Hadal thought back to his first lantern, placing a slip of paper with a single wish into the flame before letting it float off.
His distant memory was broken by an explosion of cannonfire from the Wynter's Claw. Deafening cracks of steel on bone and rough skin rang out over the waters as his eyes darted to the sound. There looked to be a half dozen fins that pierced the waves, trailing a dimly glowing green substance from open wounds. A sulfuric stench and the smell of burnt hair breezed across the foam-speckled crests towards him as he watched. A gargantuan, menacing, and tumor-coated shark propelled itself from the sea, coasting over the deck of the Claw. Hadal watched as, in its flight, it was able to grab a crewman from the rigging in its jagged maw. Streaks of crimson blood ribboned behind it while it disappeared once more into the black waters of the Calèdare on the other side.
The sailors aboard the Emerald Nymph watched in horror as the Claw began to list to her starboard side. Another salvo of heavy steel flew through plumes of gunpowder smoke into the sea, and a splash of green splattered across its hull. A shark, larger than the last to breach the surface, caught hold of the front section of the bow in its jaw, crunching into the planks. The sea began to rush into the exposed interior and so too did several of the jellyfish that still surrounded them. Shouts and cries of pain from the crew of its lower decks rang out over top the cannon fire plunging into the beasts below. Captain Oradim's call to his crew was clear, however; they would end in the same fate should they turn to aid them. They were to continue sailing towards The Humming Strait.
Knocking at his cabin's door woke Hadal in the early hours of the third night of the expedition. He rolled to one side of his cot, ignoring the sound initially. His eyes lulled open at another set of incessant knocks, though he still saw jellyfish and sharks from the night prior swimming in his vision. The salt-stained walls greeted him as his eyes focused and he wiped the crust from them. He rolled again to face the desk where his studies were held fast by small clamps made of wrought iron. Another, much louder knock resonated through his room, and he finally decided to call out from his bedding.
“Who's there?” he said, leaning on his elbow to stare at the splintered door.
“Its Ullumin,” the voice called through the wood. The voice belonged to the First Mate of the Nymph, a half-elf called Ullumin. “Captain Oradim thought you'd want to see the sky above deck.” His voice had a sleep laden twang to it, as if he too was just woken up from the comforts of his worn down cot.
Reluctantly, Hadal crawled out of his cot and slipped on his now-sea-stained white coat. Ullumin's boots clunked down the thin hallway connecting the cabins as Hadal got himself ready for an early dusk. He undid the iron clamp of the thickest tome on the desk and the pages within it stirred, as if waking. The gold sigil on its cover split in half and a blue, glass eye rolled forward and poked its way out from the leather. It made a chirping sort of sound as its back cover slammed itself against the wood and the book became animated, suspended in air. He motioned towards the living tome before they both exited his quarters to make their way topside.
Crewmen littered the deck, many of them standing still with their heads tilted towards the sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and the faded sun had yet to fully fall below the horizon. Dancing above them all was the Twilight Symphony, a rare spectacle in which the air high up in the ether sparkled and danced in ribbons of greens, blues, and occasional reds. Accompanying the breath taking display was the sound of ice crystals that tinkled together somewhere unseen. Hadal had never witnessed a Symphony before, and his eyes reflected the pirouetting lights in awe.
Hovering in place beside him, the heavy tome split and opened to the first blank page close to the back at the subtle command of its master. Hadal took out his quill and tapped it twice on the nearest surface, leaving it suspended near his tome. Without saying a word, the quill began to feverishly write on the page, and very soon it was filled with arcane scrawlings and formulas. He never broke his gaze from the Symphony playing out above him, and his right hand sparkled with magic as a finger traced the air infront of him. Simultaneously, both his quill and hand ceased their motion, and a ten-foot ethereal dome appeared around him. It was an illusion mimicking the lights above, and it quickly faded as he continued to experience the Twilight Symphony.
Miccaro and Desolis, the Sister Moons, were high overhead once more when Hadal appeared topside again. Captain Oradim informed him that they were approaching The Humming Strait, and that some of his men warned of an approaching storm. Hadal couldn't see more than a handful of clouds floating lazily across the sky, but he believed the captain. Pressure was mounting from all angles, and he could feel it deep within his bones. That is, what he thought he was feeling. A low droning noise bubbled up from the sea around them. To Dr. Pericus Hadal, however, the resonant drone that ripped across the waves was like music to his ears, soft and sweet.
“Let my melody guide you, through this lonely night,To the depths where darkness ne'er meets your lovely light.”
Hadal's vision swam with sights of oceans that had long since been changed, currents that no longer flowed, and of life that no longer lived. Salt coated his mouth and his eyes began to sting at its presence. Ice crystals began to populate the surface of his ever-damp skin, piercing him all over. His grip on the banister faltered and he felt his knees slam into the deck below him. His enchanted belongings fell with him, though they never touched the wood. Gazing back up at him from the pitch black Calèdare were two, gargantuan, verdant eyes without pupils. They stared at him, unblinkingly, almost expectantly. Hadal felt that same pull, a familiar call harkening back from when he first stepped foot on the Emerald Nymph.
“What do you want with me, oh Mother?!” Hadal screamed at the sea, clutching at his gut to stave off the encroaching nausea. “Why call me home now?”
“Come closer, sweet child, to the seas' heart,
Where my peace and your sorrows shall ne'er be part.”
His insides vibrated with the bassy resonance of her song. He felt as if he was about to vomit right there, on his knees, kneeling, bleeding on the moldering deck of the Nymph. Hadal thought that the only way to quench his thirst, to remove the salt from his mouth and eyes, to cleanse his skin of the icy needles, was to jump into the all-too inviting waters below. He stood, eyes wide and manic, and began to climb over the wooden taffrail at the back of the ship. Several crewmen and the First Mate, Ullumin, rushed towards him in an attempt to keep him from going over, but they were mere seconds too late. Dr. Hadal had already fallen overboard into the frigid waters of the Calèdare Sea.
Falling. Plummeting. Further and further down, Hadal spiraled into the tenebrous depths. The cold water rushed into his lungs, forcing his gills open to take in the corrupted life-blood of the sea. Wisps of creatures never before seen passed him on his descent. Bones of those that lived before, of things he had never bore witness to, lied in the corals that clung to tainted life. If he were not going down at such a rate, he could have sworn that there was a glimmer of tarnished gold that adorned a forlorn temple. Yet, he kept falling, as if the water was not even present.
Thud. Pain spread through his body as it finally hit a solid floor, a mud-covered rock somewhere at the bottom of the sea. Finding that his gills still, infact, hydropneated, he took in a long pull of the waters around him and pushed against the seabed to right himself. Floating above him were the same pair of massive green eyes, illuminating the muddy ground around him. Small crustaceans and molusks darted about his feet, while marine snow fell around them. Dead bits of animal and plant were everywhere here, and bones littered every surface. Emanating from her eyes, or elsewhere in the lightless abyss, her melodic voice buzzed in Hadal's ears.
“You will be my chosen, Thalassian.
You are the first of my children to visit in o'er an eon.
Many think me perished.
Yet here, I flourished.”
“I had no idea, my Lady. No one did. We all thought...” Hadal found himself not talking, but thinking in her presence. “We all thought the Architects had renounced our world, Mother.”
“Such has been divined.New gods rose, old gods pined.Some fled, while others sustained.Yet I, alone in body, remained.”
Closing his eyes, Hadal attempted to will himself away from that dark space, away from the Sunken Goddess, out of the deepest trench of the Calèdare. Opening them again, he found himself sopping wet lying in his cot aboard the Emerald Nymph, gasping for air. Water spilled from his lungs as his body instinctually threw itself onto the floor from his bed, vomiting. Brine had seeped its way deep into his hair and clothes; it made him reek of dead fish and unsavory kelp. Looking around, feeling at the floorboards of his cabin, he finally determined that he was truly there. A cold pressence shifted against his bare chest as he stood. I wasn't wearing a necklace, was I?
He clutched the item hiding below the soaked day-shirt and felt something that stung like ice. Around his neck was a deep blue sapphire pendant in the shape of a tear drop hung on a silver chain. No matter how long he held it there, surrounded by sea water and parts of his dinner from the previous day, it remained frigid to the touch. It didn't bother him, though; he found the cold oddly comforting knowing that it was from Her.
“This is not my final visit, Mother,” he said, releasing the pendant. “I will find a way to make you whole again.”
Absolutely phenomenal follow up to the Caledare Sea article, Wonderfully executed!