"Get back to work, all of you," Arven said. He waited until they had, then made his way down to the fallen man. "Are you alright?"
"I-I'm alright, Captain." The crew member climbed to his feet, and dusted off his trousers. "It just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."
"I can see why," Arven said, examining the statue.
It resembled a man, perhaps in his late twenties, and dressed in the attire of a sailor. An impossible amount of detail went into the man's features, though the face itself was contorted, with the mouth split open in a soundless scream, while the veins in its eyes bulged. Even the fingers clawing at its neck were carefully formed, with the nails appearing as though they were dug into the skin itself.
"Whoever chiseled this had a twisted mind," The crew mate said.
Arven shivered as he recalled the rat. 'Petrification. The people on this ship were all petrified!'
"Everyone, back to the ship!" Arven roared, whirling around. "Leave everything behind, and go!"
His cry sparked a frenzy in the men as they dropped the items they held, and scrambled back towards the gangplank. Arven watched from behind, counting each one as they bolted back over, down to the last stumbling one. Frowning, he grabbed the man's shoulder.
"Wait, where's Elwen. I never saw him cross!"
"I- I think I saw him over there." The man gestured wildly towards the prow. "He was mumbling beneath his breath, but I couldn't hear what he was saying."
"Alright. When you get across, tell the crew to prepare to set sail. If we're not over within the next three minutes, I want you to leave without us, you understand."
The man furrowed his brow, but nodded. "Yes, Captain."
Arven released his shoulder, and the man clamored across the gangplank. Spinning on his heel, he raced across the deck.
"Elwen? Where did you go?" Arven called out. He pushed through the sails draped over the deck, and climbed over the fallen masts. Ahead, he spotted the shadow of his first mate, staring blankly into a dark doorway. "Elwen! What are you doing? We need to get off-"
Arven froze as he grabbed Elwen's shoulder, only to find it as hard as stone. For a moment, he thought the boat was trembling, before realizing it was his legs. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, and gazed upon the face of his first mate.
Elwen's haunted eyes stared past him, wide, and into the depths beyond the doorway. His skin was as dark as obsidian, and colder than ice, while his jacket hung loosely from his shoulder, flapping in the wind.
Arven's stomach convulsed, and he reeled away, fighting back the rising bile. Covering his mouth, he slowly looked up, and peered into the darkness beyond the doorway. His blood chilled to the bone as an array of petrified men stared back at him, their faces warped, as bits and pieces of their bodies appeared missing.
'Gods above! It was a massacre!' Arven thought. Cursing beneath his breath, he took one last look at Elwen, then muttered his apologies, and hurried back to the gangplank.
"Men! Cast off! We need to leave, now," Arven said, leaping off the gangplank. He whirled around, and grabbed the board, pulling it across. "I fear there's dark magic on that ship. It took Elwen."
An unnatural silence clung to the air as Arven paused, and lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. "What did you do to my men?"
"Don't you already know?" The question was cold, but clear.
Arven turned. A young man stood behind him, his ice blue eyes watching him from beneath a mop of tousled black hair. A black cloak hung from his shoulders, matching the dark leather armor he wore, which was adorned by a scaled bear, similar to the ship's figurehead. At his hip, he carried a cracked sword, seemingly made from stone, with an amethyst set in the pommel.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Arven asked. He glanced past the man at his crew, all of which were now frozen in stone, their expressions one of shock and horror.
The man smiled. "Who I am is unimportant, but what I want is answers. Where are we, and who does this land belong to?"
Arven forced himself to straighten his back, and stare the man straight in the eye. "Are you being serious? Do you not know we're in the middle of the Arcoldian sea, just off the coast of the Erath desert? And if you wish to know who the land belongs to, you'll need to be more clear about which kingdom you're talking about."
The stranger rubbed his chin. "I see. So this land itself is unaware of Lord Mildune. Interesting. One last question. Have you witnessed a ship possessed by plants recently, steered by a man with amber hair and emerald eyes? He wears a golden pendant around his neck, bearing the form of a tree."
Arven scowled. "No, I have seen no man, and no ship of that description."
"I feared as much." The man sighed. "A shame. At least then your death would have had meaning."
Arven flinched as the man flicked his wrist, and a shadow sprung from his cloak, embedding itself in his chest. He blinked, uncertain, and let his head drop to his chest. A shard of obsidian, cracked with veins of amethyst, jutted from his torso.
"What- what did you do?" Arven asked. He staggered back, falling against the railing as he grasped at the stone. His fingers slipped off the slick shard, while his blood dripped from the end, warming his skin.
With each passing second, Arven fought to keep his senses, but the lull of sleep weighed heavily against him, stronger than any drink had. Taking a deep breath, he picked his head up, and glared at the man who stood before him.
"You won't get away with this, warlock," Arven said. He shifted his body with a grunt, and tilted back his head. "By Osyras's Halls, your sins today will not be forgotten."
Then, as the last of his strength dwindled, and his final breath cloudy the cold night air, Arven caught the man muttering beneath his breath.
"If the gods deem it my fate, then so be it. But I will not rest until I've taken my revenge."