The boat ride was uneventful. Aside from being cursed at and having to pretend to be a sailor (I learned nothing really, just how to hold a rope while some younger kid screams to hold on to it or let go of i, I imagine this is much the same way my assistants feel when they help me with sewing difficult projects), it was actually fairly relaxing, the waters were cold when they splashed into me but not too rough and we made the island within a couple days. The boatman did not help me get my trunk off his sailboat sadly, and as soon as I had hefted it off his ship he was already turning around to leave me there (which left me with the wonder of how the hell I was supposed to signal the factory was ok? Or possibly get back? I put those in the back of my mind later concerns for when I finished my task). The dock was decently large if a little creepy since no one was there. Hanging over the portion just past where the sailboat docked was a welcome sign to Finley Island.
We had arrived in the morning so fog was obscuring most things beyond a couple feet in front of my face. I hauled my trunk of things down the dock with more than a little bit of physical exertion. When I reached the abandoned harbor masters office I was read in the face and looking for a rest. The office was in decent shape, no sign of a struggle or blood or anything, just like the person who had run it decided today was the day he was done and left it. I could see there was a journal I made note to look over after I got settled in. Outside of that the office was fairly simple, a front area with a long wooden counter with various ledgers for people to sign; behind that a cabinet with small shelves for peoples mail or messages for others (none were there for me to look over). Through a small door behind the front area was living quarters, a stove, desk with oil lamp, and modest bed. I left my trunk of supplies there and decided to make the office my base of operations.
The fog was too dense for me to attack whatever had taken over Finley Island without risking myself the same fate of what had taken place here. So I made due settling into the bedroom and fortifying the location with sigils and marks (look I'm an idiot but I do have some ritual magic I'm aware of that makes things safer for me, my customers don't notice it but every shop I've ever run is secured with similar ritualism). That done I settled in to read the journal of the former Harbor master and hopefully find out where everyone went. Lets just say that things were a little foggy as to what happened. That's a double joke you'll get when I write my next entry!
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