...

[Qadariya]

the wave crashed up on the deck leaving them all even more cold, miserable, and wet. In the distance the land, spotted mere moments ago, slowly lumbered in to view dwarfing the undersized ship the 9 weary travelers had acquired. The keep loomed like a forboding plague over the island on top of the lone mountain. From this distance, small forms were vaguely visible flitting among the towers. Lord Fradrok steered the ship toward the beach and with a gasp and a point said..."

[Fradrok]

“El no way! El, no flipping way!”

“What?” cried Lord Gerhart. “What is it?”

Lord Fradrok pointed, not at the keep, but at the shoreline spreading itself out like a moat of charred meat in front of it. A single beam of light descended from the clouds and draped its warmth over a single figure. The details of the shoreline and the keep’s hovering towers became a mist of something not at all real like dream was being born from a fog.

Nine sea drenched crew members of the Saintas Tribute Cutter stood, tack and booms mid-ready, and let the shining image of the figure dry their souls. Standing resolute on the bow of the ship, Leik trembled. “It’s …”

[Leik]

"It's..."

Frozen in fear, Leik peers into the eyes of the unidentified figure. It's eyes, the color of crimson, seem to peer through Leik as if to not only see through him, but to put his entire being out before the entire crew. Eyes locked, never blinking, never wavering, while the warmth of the light calls the crew towards the shore.

"Someone answer me!" Cries Lord Gerhart "What do you see, Leik?"

No response, unmoving, a statue at the bow of the ship lost in the bloodied gaze that is upon him. Then with no warning the figure...