The Port of Nordicia was much like any other port into the Brine, small huts and thatched roofing made from seahorse mane to keep the water out, spelled lanterns providing a constant and steady light throughout the mists that seemed ever present in the cove. Blustery winds consistently whipped throughout the river mouth where it emptied into the larger cove, where the rich purple blue of the waves frothed and churned against the small fleets of fishing vessels tied in port, the enchanted mooring ropes keeping the boats in unnatural still waters and safe against the violent tossing that would normally occur.
A few boats dotted the seascape, out in this weather to make their fishing quota and keep their families’ bellies full. One such boat was slapping up and down on the waves with three members on deck, the spray driving into tied cloaks and drenching them despite the waterproofing blubber rubbed into the salty canvas, the sixteen-foot vessel bouncing up and down with each heave. Four hours into a storm that the Cap’n had insisted would be twenty minutes of blowing found three fishermen huddled together on the deck in an effort to stay as warm as possible as they hauled in yard after yard of netting full of small, brightly shining fish no more than six inches long.
The first, a goblinoid named Krek lassoing the buoy markers for each net, to be dragged in hand over hand by the newest greenhorn onboard, a spry and slightly gangly Harekin named Jakka, all kept under the watchful gaze of their Cap’n- a hobgoblin named Gour. It was after the storm had started to enter its fifth hour when they saw a landmass start to rise from the sea. Nordicia had one other claim to fame apart from fishing, and that was the Briny Eye, a small isle dungeon that rose to the surface whenever storms passed four hours in length, an infrequent occurrence but one that happened often enough that the locals knew to avoid the patch of seaweed covered rock that beckoned with the draw of Loot and treasures untold. Unfortunately, the young often believe themselves immortal, and one such Harekin was dramatically attempting to sway the other two more seasoned sailors.
“I’m telling you guys; we can go find that genie’s lamp. It’s just sitting in the middle of that Dungeon, and the dungeon itself is only intermediate! I heard it only had two Stone Clams for guardians-”
“You’re a moron, Jakka. No dungeon is ever that easy and open. Also, if it’s so easy, why has it sat unbeaten for so many decades? Every 3-4 years some dumb net-hauler like yourself gets tired of gutting Sunfish and decides he's gonna make it. Never ever see them again.” Krek’s deep and scratchy voice belied his small and wiry stature, but people often seemed to look down on goblins, especially their intelligence. It often led to their demise, as a goblin was never to be underestimated and made for fierce enemies or the staunchest of allies.
“Lost three deckhands to this damn island on the last go round, and the only evidence we ever saw of them was half of a finger from the Tigren we’d hired not 12 hours earlier. Damn fools jumped overboard and swam into it. Looked like the cave was eating them.” Krek shuddered; eyes downcast as the memories flitted through his mind. “Screams started maybe forty-five seconds later. That bit of finger came flying out, landed right here on the deck.”
“Bullshit-” Jakka cut into the goblins monologue with an eye roll. “No way that finger just happened to land back on deck. I bet the rest of the guys just quit cuz the work was too hard.”
Krek shook his head, A heavy sigh on his lips. “Cap’n, wanna weigh in on this? Boy’s calling me a liar and you know I don’t take too kindly to that.”
Cap’n Gour shook his head, dreadlocked hair shaking briefly. “Let the lad believe what he wishes. We can’t afford to hire a new deckhand again. That isle brings nothing but death to those who venture there. And if they go in that cave, you will never see them again. My Dad thought to use the dungeon to get us out of this Northern hellhole, never having to fish a day in his life again. I pleaded with him not to go in, but we’d stay out here whenever the weather got bad. And it finally happened for him when I was almost a man. The island rose, he hugged me one last time and told me that he’d see me soon. He never came back out.” Gour looked up, meeting Jakka’s eye with a fierce gaze. “It would consume us as well.”
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This back and forth may have continued for a while yet if they hadn’t all felt a strange, resonating thrum escape the water surrounding them. A tingling, alien sensation crawled across flesh and fur, a siren call as old as the land and sea, and then the bow of the boat started turning toward the shore of the rocky isle, picking up speed as the three men stood in shock, before Gour roared in anger, vaulting the railing to get to the ship's wheel.
“No! No! No! By Isarra’s Rose, hard to port! Move your ass, Krek!” Gour’s barked command snapped the goblin from his fear, and he scrambled to pull rigging and change tack, trying to get the sails to swing them out of whatever was pulling them every closer. Jakka looked up, watching as the sails billowed, mast creaking as the hull groaned against the current the drafts and the underwater suction bringing massive pressure as it fought to go in separate directions. He had time to watch the base of the mast swell oddly for a split second, then the forces were too much, and the mast shattered- Krek blasted with dozens of pieces of hardened wood with the force of a cannonball-Krek ceased to exist, a death instant for the experienced sailor. The sudden release of the mast rolled the hull over, sending Jakka and Gour into the waves, where the choppy water of the Brine offered an icy embrace. Jakka kicked mightily, his large Harekin feet acting almost like flippers for him, and when he broached the waves, he sucked air greedily. He was freezing, and he knew that any longer in the water than absolutely necessary would spell his end. Gour was screaming in rage at the storm, the manic gleam in his eyes reflecting the water around them. ‘Gour! Gour! We need to make it to land, or we’re doomed. The dungeon’s our only chance.” Jakka watched the rage and fear war on Gour’s face, before he sighed in resignation and started kicking and stroking toward the rocky isle. Jakka swam after him, keeping his eyes focused on their goal. It seemed like hours of struggle against the swirling eddies but then they hit a current that seemed to drag them towards the one spot on the isle that looked hospitable to land on, a small sandy beach that stretched thinly across a few yards before winding into a thin trail that led directly into the mouth of the cave that the island sheltered.
The sand was rough and coarse, and Jakka could feel it getting everywhere. His fur would be crusty by the time he got dry from the salt and sand. Pulling himself further up shore, he could hear the sobbing that had replaced Gour’s roars, as the reality of their situation set in. ‘Gour? We got to dry off, we’ll freeze. This rain isn’t letting up. Maybe we can just wait it out, set a signal fire so the other fishermen will see us.”
Gour looked up, a hauntingly empty gaze searching listlessly around him. Jakka wasn’t even sure he’d heard him and was about to repeat himself when Gour spoke. “You don’t get it kid. This storm won't let up until we enter the cave, but the cave won’t let us leave once we cross the threshold. No boat will come near the isle for fear of being drawn in like our boat was, so there's no chance of getting a rescue. Either we die in the cave, or we freeze out here. I told you Jakka, this dungeon will consume us.” Gour looked out to the water, eyes resting on the spot where their boat went down. “Maybe Krek was the luckiest of us after all.”
An uneasy silence reigned after that statement, the rain pelting down. Jakka’s lips were starting to chatter, and he had fur to help keep him warm. Gour looked half frozen already, his normally green skin turning a pale blue and his breath coming out in puffs. His sailor's garb was starting to stiffen as the trapped water froze, and Jakka could feel it starting to freeze his fur as well as the shorts he had on. “We have to go in, Gour. We’ll die for sure out here, but dungeons are supposed to be able to be beaten. We can do this Cap’n. We have to.” With that said, Jakka turned and began to make his way down the trail towards the ominous maw of earth before them. Gour looked out to the water, and then with a heaving breath stood and started after him. “Maybe I’ll get to see my da, one last time.” Shoulder to shoulder, Jakka and Gour stepped forward into the pit. There was a shrieking thunderclap and flash of lightning, and when the light cleared the isle, rain and all evidence they existed vanished as if it were a mirage, returned to the depths of the Brine Sea.