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Hello Everyone.  Here is a great story by Browncoat Jayson.

Music: Eliot Corley – Water Temple  Eliot Corley – Water Temple

Here is the text:

Kings Wharf by Browncoat Jayson

A Page from an Outlander’s Journal

Author Unknown

 The ship that brought me here was little more than a dinghy with a mast. Seven days it took, riding up breakers and crashing down to surf, to get from Port Graff. Now mining gems is a backbreaking life, but you are less likely to be killed by an errant storm while underground. From stories I expected an idyllic place of farmers and sheep, not the dreary port that awaited me. I don’t know which lord this Kingsport was named for, but I imagine he was an enormous rat in a crown — king of the wharves, indeed! I was a fool to leave Port Graff, and now I wish for nothing more than a way to return.

The Vale, ’twas said, was a place to go where the Oracle’s eyes would not follow. Those mechanical monstrosities send shivers up my spine. The whole mainland is infested with the things; I hoped here would be better. But an hour off the water, sitting outside the Hearth of New Britannia, I watch one of the multi-legged things crawl up through a sewer grate.

I’m not a nosy sort, you understand, but after a few minutes I crawled down the nearby rungs and pulled open the grate, entering the dark recess beneath the docks. It was black as pitch, but a nearby box held a dozen torches so I borrowed one and ignited it from a handy sconce. The sewers branch, seemingly at random, so I picked a direction in the same manner, soon coming upon a pool. From the debris within, I have a sense that the rat-king’s privy may be located just above this area, so I turned to leave the way I had come.

Music: Alexandr Zhelanov – https:/soundcloud.com/alexandr-zhelanov-Steeps of Destiny

A dozen feet from me stood what was once a man.

The beast still wore scraps of cloth, and the rusted head of its mace swung just inches from the stonework. However, no flesh showed beneath the gaps; indeed, the entire dermis was missing, yet the bones stood as though still encased. Its jaw dropped into a rictus grin as it raised its weapon. Had I my pickaxe, I might have stood a chance against even such a perversion, but I was unarmed. As it swung, I darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a fatal concussion, and ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

Music: Alexandr Zhelanov – https:/soundcloud.com/alexandr-zhelanov-Escadre

Once I reached daylight I went immediately to the guard, but they dismissed my tale. I even went to the mayor, having to interrupt his seemingly endless chat with the local guildmistress. For my troubles, I was escorted from the premises and told to lay off the ale. The nerve!

I found brief employ at a warehouse, which earned me enough to stay for the week in one of the hovels near the waterfront. As soon as a seaworthy vessel makes port, I’ll be aboard, and begging Ol’ Graff to take me back. It can’t be long…

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