As the little girl idled on the pier, she scrutinized the man atop the wooden bridge extended to the main deck of the ship. He donned a blackened, rusty breastplate that only highlighted his blotchy and sunburned skin. Allendra's expectations of a charismatic captain were dashed as she observed the scruffy brown hair, bright turquoise-green eyes, and pointed chin that clashed with his overall shabby appearance.
With a cane hooked in his grip, Captain Barthalomeu made his way towards them. His tall, thin, and slightly hunched body wore worn leather boots with lace-ups and torn black leather trousers. A dark black wool-collared jacket that came down to his knees and boasted patches completed his dingy attire.
"I am Captain Barthalomeu. Welcome, lady and little girl, aboard my unique ship, Blackened, unlike any other. Your names and reasons for coming aboard are of little concern to me," he grizzled, his southern accent thick.
Lena greeted the man in silence. They crossed the wooden bridge and arrived on the main deck. The ship they now embarked upon was a small caravel with three sails, a fleet and robust vessel spanning fifty feet in length.
In time as Allendra explored the ship, her senses were bombarded with strange and unsettling sensations. The body of the vessel was coated in a tar-like substance, but it was no ordinary paint. The sails were dotted with black spots that seemed to spread like a festering wound. As she stepped on the main deck, she felt a strange, almost skin-like softness beneath her feet. It was as if the ship was a living being, slowly decaying over time, yet unable to die.
The whispers she heard in the walls only added to the eerie atmosphere. It was as if the ship had absorbed the souls of countless unfortunate sailors, and now they were all trapped within its wooden hull. Allendra couldn't shake the feeling that this ship was cursed, and that being aboard it was a grave mistake.
"Listen well, for I shall impart to you a few essential decrees," spoke the captain in a stern voice. "Be sure to steer clear of the two elves who lurk on the port side, skulking in that shadowy corner. They are mercenaries in the employ of Bishop, and they are not to be trusted."
The captain gestured towards the corner, where the figures of men in hooded robes could just be discerned, their stature lean and athletic, standing at a height of around five feet and seven inches.
"At night, you are not to leave your cabin unless it is an absolute necessity. I have arranged for your lodgings to be across from the bridge," he continued. "With my permission, you may venture down to the kitchen if you possess the culinary skills. And if I order you to remain in your quarters or to hide in the barn with the mice, you will obey without question. As my esteemed guests, you are bound to adhere to the laws of my vessel."
"We understand, captain," replied Lena.
"Is Bishop aboard?" she inquired.
"Not yet. We shall meet him in due course," the captain responded.
"When will that be?"
"We are waiting for news, my lady. Until then, we sail the seas, enveloped in mists. So you had best become accustomed to your surroundings."
Although the woman and child had many questions, their exhaustion overcame their curiosity. When they caught sight of the repugnant half-orc with his rough, wart-covered skin, sparse hair, and sharp teeth jutting from his mouth, they were taken aback.
"Fear not, for this is Hoargh, a half-orc and half-human. Though he speaks little, he is a capable servant and a trusted member of my crew. He shall guide you to your lodgings," assured the captain.
With a grunt and a twisted grin, Hoargh indicated for the duo to follow him. Though still wary, they trailed after him out of necessity.
The musty, damp walls and the pungent odor were the first to catch their attention upon entering the humble cabin. Everything in the room was fixed to the floor, except for the chairs. There were no other furnishings apart from a table, two chairs, two bunk beds, and a wooden console affixed to the wall under the window. They discovered a metal oil lamp hanging on the wall, a quill pen, a bottle of ink, a few candles, and a wisp of parchment in the console drawer. They stowed their belongings in the console compartments.
Lena placed a candle in the lamp and kindled the wick, closed the door, and drew the heavy black curtain. She glanced at the little girl, who appeared even smaller in the flickering glow of the candle flame, which was the sole source of light in the room.
"Now a new chapter begins, Elia. I must train you well. You have much to learn before Bishop arrives. You must impress the priest. Do you comprehend?"
The girl shook her head meekly.
"We shall begin with the runes. You will learn an ancient and forgotten language, born of the Black Desert, the tongue of the Neacramon."
The witch woman produced the slender bamboo parchment, ink, and quill and placed them on the table. Lena started to sketch out symbols that the girl had never seen before in her life.
As time went on, symbols began to infiltrate her thoughts and haunt her dreams. Soon, these dreams transformed into horrid nightmares. A black-winged entity incessantly called out to her with a nasal growling voice. Invariably, the same scene played out in her dreams - she found herself in the middle of a desolate desert, with a blood-red tower looming in the distance. A pond of the same bloody hue encircled her, and a river of the same color snaked its way towards the pond. The burnt red grass that surrounded the river was the only other sign of life in this desolate wasteland.
Allendra was running as fast as she could, screaming in terror, with two entities in hot pursuit. One was a black-robed figure, and the other, a halfling-like creature. Both ran like lightning, sometimes fighting each other, sometimes in a relentless pursuit of the girl. Panting and terrified, Allendra finally plunged into the pond, the blood-red water half-way up her waist. The water was warm, and it seemed to have a life of its own, as if it was intent on engulfing Allendra, making her one with it.
Allendra awoke from these nightmares at the same point, right before she would drown. The blood-red water would nearly swallow her whole being, and she would hear an arrow whizz past her, followed by the halfling's agonizing cry. As the days passed, Allendra found it hard to focus on anything else. The surrounding mists and the sound of the sea waves only added to her growing unease."
* * *
According to Allendra's reckoning, they had spent more than three months at sea. The initial month saw them battling fierce storms in the north, and on numerous occasions, the ship teetered on the brink of disaster.
During the second month's opening week, they chanced upon a pirate vessel. Captain Barth ordered Allendra and Lena to remain confined in their cabin as the other ship approached. Allendra strained to listen and heard Captain Barth exchange a few terse words with the pirate captain.
"See those elves. Do you know who they are?" queried Captain Barth.
The other ship responded but Allendra couldn't hear them.
"Good. Then flee while you still can, pretty pirate boys!" Captain Barth barked.
And with that, the pirate ship vanished from sight.
Following this encounter, the captain resolved to steer southwards. But every time they headed south, they would inevitably encounter an impenetrable wall of dark grey mist. The ominous landscape that enveloped them was utterly chilling.
For the past two months, they had been traversing the Sea of Mists. As the dark grey, hazy clouds billowed up from the sea, they blotted out the sky and created an unsettling canvas, as if a frenzied artist had painted it with crude brushstrokes. Though each stroke of the brush resembled a different scene from another world, it was imperceptible to mere mortals.