Ahead of the Storm - Day 23

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

As Lavinia's wedding day approaches, I find myself feeling quite ashamed of my husband Verik's behaviour. I myself couldn't be prouder of our daughter's choice. Anzak might have been troubled in his youth, but I'm proud of what I see in him these days. I know he's a good man, who's been through a lot in his life. He's now commited to starting a new life for himself with Lavinia, and together building a happy future.

Yet all Verik sees when he looks at Anzak is trouble... because he's afraid that the day is soon coming when Lavinia can no longer be protected and sheltered from the world, the way he's always kept her. That she'll become independent and strong... like me.

Oh how I recall those days in our youth, when we were brave adventurers exploring the frontiers of the world. I'll never forget the day that the Seekers Guild selected the two of us to lead their mission to explore the Isle of Dread... Having heard rumors of its location and the terrible dangers that lurked there - but also rumors of the treasures there for the claiming. Most notably those precious things that gave the Isle its original name: Thanaclan, Land of the Pearl.

Thus we departed with our meager fleet... three caravels led by the two of us - a husband-and-wife team of Swashbuckler and Druid. Despite my protests, Verik made sure that the children - Lavinia and barely-newborn Vanthus - remain here in Sasserine, in case the journey proved too dangerous. Though I was saddened to leave them, I knew this mission was one we were perfectly suited for, and the opportunity to prove ourselves within the Seekers was a once-in-a-lifetime deal as well.

And after months of sailing, lost at sea once or twice, nearly conquered by storms on occasion as well, we finally came to rest at the location of our quest: the Isle of Dread that had been surrounded in mystery for centuries... ever since the unknown disaster that wiped out the legendary Olman village of Thanaclan, leaving on the Isle only those scattered tribes of Olmans that exist today, descendents of those lucky few who survived the tragedy.

Yet our mission being foremost one of caution, we made landfall not on the Isle itself, but one of smaller islands on its southeastern periphery. And it was there that we established the colony of Farshore, and made first tentative contact with the Olman clans the dwelled nearby. Those first few months were such an incredible experience, the one time in my life that I truly felt free, at one with that druidic calling that had always lain in my soul. Yet, standing there on the edge of the Isle of Dread's majestic landscape was not enough to ease my stirred excitement, and so I pleaded day after day for Verik to let me explore the mainland, while he remained in the colony doing what he did best, leading the people and building it up into what he dreamed it could be.

By then the pearl-collecting endeavors were already well underway, and generating a wealth beyond our dreams. We'd received word from the Seekers that we were to have free reign in building up the colony as we saw fit, keeping for ourselves a more-than-generous portion of the newfound wealth. Verik's dreams were coming true, so I begged of him to let me fulfill mine, of exploring the main island of legend, chronicling all I found within my journal - both as a ressource to the Seekers, and to soothe my own undying curiosity and pull towards nature.

Finally, he relented. I'll never forget the joy I felt that day. And what lay ahead of me in the days to come was such a mystical and spiritual journey.

Looking back at the journal I kept from those days, it's as though it were only yesterday... I do believe I'll pass these journals on to Lavinia someday soon, for her to experience herself. I've already begun pushing Verik toward giving the Blue Nixie over to her and Anzak as part of their wedding gift, so that they can experience the joys of the world for themselves, just as we once did. If they're brave enough for the journey, maybe they could even spend their honeymoon over the next year or so, out in Farshore itself. The colony is running strong these days, I hear - and while Verik is now too tired to make that journey anytime soon, perhaps it's fitting that we pass it on to our eldest child and her new husband? Both of them would surely love all the majesty and beauty that the the once-great Thanaclan has to offer...

Ah, here it is - my journal entries for that first exploration of the Isle... Such a journey back in time, to that happiest time of my life...

THE ECOLOGY OF THE ISLE OF DREAD
The Journal of Larissa Vanderboren

Today I leave the safety of the colony for the village of Taranoa. We've been here for several months on the Isle of Temute, establishing the Farshore colony and attempting relations with the local Olman villages. While these proceedings are important for our family's - and, indeed, all of Sasserine's - designs on these farflung shores, I find them rather tiresome. Thus, I've convinced my husband Verik, who leads the expedition, of the value in exploring and documenting the mainland of this, the Isle of Dread. While obviously concerned for my safety, he knows that my magic and experience as an adventurer will keep me from harm.

Within the Fangs of Zotzilaha
6th of Wealsun, 578 CY

I have returned from a journey with the Taranoan natives to the volcano Nextepeua, one of the twin volcanoes known as the Fangs of Zotzilaha. The Taranoans make annual pilgrimages to offer appeasements to their bat-god Camazotz. I had agreed to the trip to display our good intentions to our Olman neighbors, hoping to help Verik's goal of establishing mutual trade with them.

The Fangs are an imposing sight, rising up to dizzying heights and dwarfing the scenery around them. From their heights billow pillars of black, acrid smoke visible for many miles, polluting the air with ash and debris. Muffled rumbles growl from deep beneath the peaks, suggesting the incredible activity of the world's bowels. The fields surrounding the Fangs steam with slag and knee-deep ash, while the grounds closer to the peaks are riddled with lava tubes. Some evidence of flowing magma colliding with underground water exists, as poisonous gas belches from deep vents and fissures. It's no wonder the natives fear this place - they live under constant threat of an explosive eruption.

The Taranoans explained that we must wait until nightfall, when the volcanoes' sacred baboon guardians retreat to their caves. The baboons - omnivorous and dangerously ravenous - live out a pitiful existence, surviving off sparse vegetation and huddling together around the few pools of stagnant rainwater.

When twilight fell, hordes of great bats swept out from the lava tubes and fissures, blacking out the smoke-clouded sky. I was startled by the creatures' physical size, some with wingspans up to 15 feet. In spite of their mass, they exhibited surprising maneuverability, both in the air and on the ground. The sight of so many of them, a colony several thousand strong, instilled a primal fear within me. Although they drove the baboons hooting back to their caves, the bats ignored us completely, enabling us to approach unchallenged - an event that to the Taranoans, was a sign Camazotz himself had granted safe passage.

Once inside Nextepeua, the shaman leading the pilgrimage began repeating a tribal, rhythmic chant. Whatever incantation he worked upon us proved sufficient, for we withstood the heat emanating from the walls and the occasional blasts of scorching air. The searing volcanic fumes made breathing difficult, even with the cloth masks we used, and the muffled rumbles heard outside were deafening this close to the volcanic core. The smoke and heat waves also made navigation nearly impossible. I would have surely been lost within those hellish depths forever had not the Taranoans been so familiar with the way, seemingly capable of making the trek without the need for sight.

After what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the Shrine of Camazotz. We hurriedly placed our offerings at a soot-covered carving of a bat in the far wall. Within the shrine I placed a memento my daughter Lavinia had made for me when she was a child, offering something near to my heart as the Taranoans suggested. I am hopeful that through my obeisance I have earned at least a marginal respect from the Olman natives.

To be continued...