Burnt Offerings

The waters off the northern coast of Ulrymm, where the Merchant Sea is its narrowest, is known as the Quarry Straights. The ‘Devil’s Brooch’, an immense mason barge from Soldren, had crossed these waters along the normal shipping lanes reserved for such transports. The barge, that hailed from the nearby colony of Soldren, rolled easily over the waves as it navigated the reefs that riddled the waters here. Even at a mile out, the towering scaffolds and looming ward towers could be seen against the gloomy backdrop of a land plagued with the perpetual rains of this subtropical Empire. They lay stretched out eastward like tall spires reaching toward the heavens. East of the approach to Maeus, these colossal wonders marked the infamous ‘Wall of Slaves’, and the even darker “Verdicts Abyss”. But here in the quiet port, they stood like ancient looming guardians, watching the approach of the Devils Brooch and standing vigilant over the heavy docks of Port Maeus.

Isamyr leapt to the dock as the barge coasted in, and quickly tied a throwline to one of the mooring posts. His keen elven eyes scanned the pre-dawn darkness that hung over Maeus Landing, and could see no signs of life. Adarmin, pulling his oiled cloak tight to keep out the wet, climbed out as well, and nodded a farewell to the Bargemaster and his crew. The ‘Devil’s Brooch’ was still alit from bow to stern with lanterns that swung easily from the posts where they were hung; their swaying matched the rocking of the watercraft as it bumped lightly against the heavy docks.

“Valorik,” yelled the Kha’drekan giant,” Fare thee well, and may the currents treat you kindly.”

The small twisted Bargeman’s response was lost on the wind, but his smile implied the intent.

Port Maeus was a bustling center three years back, but trade had slowed when the ‘Summers of Blood’ began. The shipping lanes were once choked with mason barges and the slave caravan also passed to Valmoria via this northernmost port of Ulrymm. Many of the cities of this southern empire had direct access to the slave routes that came out of the south and east, and a steady supply of workers for the block mines streamed across the ferry route in exchange for the use of Soldren’s port to ship Ulrymm quarry products east and west along the sea of merchants. Now, all lay near silent along the trade route, and the shipping traffic was reduced to a few of the bolder Bargemen that still made the run to fill their purses.

In another hour the shore crew would arrive with the rising sun and the booms would begin to hoist the immense masonry on pulleys that would swing the cargo out onto the deck of the Barge. Other than that, the port was a virtual ghost-yard. Even before the beasts of Verdicts Abyss had begun to prey on the locals, Port Maeus was never what Soldren had become. Here the docks of Maeus entered onto an unprotected commercial district of warehouses and shops for the various stone trades. They didn’t enjoy the same protective enclosure that Soldren provided, nor did they have the convenience of an adjoining town and all the services that it provided.

Valorik had warned that it would be this way…a semi abandoned husk of a port, devoid of activity. The two companions passed hurriedly along the deserted, wet avenue that bisected the buildings and shops, and followed the bricked road that climbed upward into the hills south of Maeus Landing. A glance back over the rooftops before they were too far traveled gave an incredible view of the Landing and the water beyond. Dawn was quickly approaching and the towering booms began to grind into motion. A few figures could be seen moving about the various docks and buildings around the Devils Brooch, but it paled in comparison to what the Sister Colony across the straights would be experiencing at this same moment. The duo took one final gaze over the open waters, and then trekked off southward toward the Colony that lay three miles further inland, high above the cliffs of Drathnar.

Isamyr and Adarmin set a quick pace, and tried to ignore the stinging rain and the steep,winding ascent. Their destination was an archaic fortified manor that found new life as a Inn;  the notable ‘Hyperion’s Den’. This important landmark of Maeus always seemed to creep into the tales of old Valorik…a place he thought of fondly and often. The inception of Hyperion’s Den could be traced back to the early beginnings of the Mining Colony, and was known to locals by more traditional names such as ‘Innover’, ‘Warlock’s Maw’ or simply ‘The Den’. The mining town of Maeus grew up around the former House Hyperion, and decades later the looming manor and sprawling grounds found new life as a Great Inn for travelers from all walks of life. The addition of the north wing catered to visiting dignitaries and government officials. Its luxurious quarters often lay vacant for week if not months…awaiting the arrival of Members of the Magistrate, Secretary of the Coffers, Slave Lords, or other important individuals.

Maeus Colony overlooked the Quarry Straights from its steep cliffside location. From the ‘Landing’ it was hidden from sight, but as the road made its final bend to the southeast the modest town came into view. The partially walled colony was surrounded by lush rolling hills and sat behind the rushing waters of a small river that raced northward to empty over a precipice on its way to the sea below. Other rivulets and streams criss-crossed the landscape and ponds and gardens dotted the marginal areas that encircled town proper.

The town’s quaint structures were securely pressed together in a warm style of architecture that was accented with stone work sculptures and decorative columns. Most of the homes had small gardens, but many were left to grow wild and were only a reflection of what they once were. Lacking the attention of a skilled landscaper, the plants had covered walls, entries, and had invaded the homes that the were meant to accent. It was obvious that priorities lay elsewhere….

Beyond the homes that lay stretched out toward the banks of the river was the inner market of Maeus. Bodies moved to and fro along a wall of stone and mortar that was being erected around the town proper; a bastion wall that was three quarters complete, and was covered in scaffolding and busy masons.

Adarmin led the way down the main avenue and the two travelers passed between the unfinished section of wall that was reserved for a gatehouse and portcullis. The skeletal structure of the scaffolding wound around the foundation that would support the main entrance, and masons on wooden walkways that stretched between workstations stopped to look at the passing newcomers. The steady rainfall beat against  canvas tarps that had been erected to protect the masons from the elements, and the water collected in the draping folds of the canopies until it spilled over to the street below.

Passing various shops and store fronts brought curious townsfolk to doorways and porches to watch in quiet speculation as the foreigners headed toward the inner sanctum of the Colony. The large strange giant in the long flowing cloak native to the desertlands strode purposefully forward, and his much shorter companion wrapped in northern garb of Arregale followed suit. As they entered the central square, a man on a covered boardwalk that spanned three close buildings matched pace with the newcomers. His nervous glances were unmistakable as he quickly entered the office of the constabulary. Isamyr let out a frustrated sigh, and looked ahead at his lumbering companion.

“Turning heads as usual.” thought the Silvani, “A fine killer he is…. but an assassin he could never be.”

On the southwest side of the square stood the ominous, Hyperion’s Den. It was a combination of manor house and keep, and was a magnificent structure wrapped in gardens and statuary. In the center of the square was a raised block dais similar to the one in Soldren. This public venue functioned as slave block, whipping post, soapbox and pulpit….it was a public place made for the people and used often. In fact, at its center were raised three large posts with burned corpses lashed to them. Above the head of each body, branded in the wood, was the word ‘Witch’, the bold symbol written in Ulryymic and the Merchant Tongue.

“Well, we wont be helping this poor lot” said Isamyr under his breath. His thoughts turned back to the unfortunate men in Soldren, lashed down to the block of Serisan to make atonement. That was a far better punishment than what these charred victims endured.

Adarmin cast a glance upwards at the withered corpses.  They were covered in scaly soot that hung off their bodies like black parchment. ” Reminds me of home…,” he grumbled, ” I hope thats not how they treat their visitors”  He reached a hand down within the folds of his cloak and rested a sure hand on the handle of his flail that hung heavily from his weapons belt.

The rain rolled off the charred remains and flowed down the posts, carrying wet ash over the steps and pooling on the cobbled square around the Block. The duo’s boots stood there for a brief moment in the swirling dark water as they considered the horrible deaths of those that hung before them, and then they left its blackness behind them as they made for the dry comfort of  ‘The Den’.

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