Burning through the Fog

A lot of things go through your head when you are stuck in a closet by a one clawed fog creature that can't die (not that its a common scenario or something, but still).  Like "when was the last time someone cleaned this closet?" or "What is in all these little viles of weird stuff?" you try not to focus on the creature trying to bust through the door. Admittedly this is easier to do when you aren't stuck in a small closet (like one time I got trapped in my study, took me a couple hours to actually deal with the situation, though that wasn't some seafood monster, that was some crazy salesman lady, sadly she was harder to get rid of).  The creature sensing me trying to ignore it away burst it's claw arm through the door right above my head (thank the gods I'd turned my head to try and make out a label for something prior, see procrastination saves lives!)

See the thing about being a magic user is that sometimes when you are startled you can have an accidental reaction.  Its why doing little spook scares of someone who can conjure fire, is a horrible damn idea! When the claw burst through the door fire exploded in the closet which ignited the cleaning chemicals, I went from being safe if not trapped to being in the middle of a damn flaming inferno. As a plus the excess light made my attacker momentarily distracted/disappeared, as a negative the fire spread fast and soon the whole station was burning. Which kept the fog at bay, at least (and drove the weird claw creature back).  It also kind of drove away the sleepyness, not exactly something I could capitilize on because THE ENTIRE STATION WAS ON FIRE!!!

Sadly this showed me the train was not in the station (naturally), but a hand cart was.  With lantern in hand and the building burning all around me I made my way to the cart dodging flaming debris as I went.  The cart was the standard type if you've ever seen one (if not basically a small train car with a central pump handle to drive it forward and a pole to hang a lamp on).  I didn't have time to really do anything other than hang the lamp, sheath my sword and start hammering away at the pump to move the cart as far away from the station as possible. Thankfully no seafood monster attacked me while I got away from a completely accidental fire that destroyed the train station.

In the game of winning and losing I'd won a train cart to move on hopefully towards the factory (if the tracks hadn't been destroyed along the way that is).  I'd lost all the supplies I'd had to leave behind at the dockmasters office, destroyed a train station, and was literraly on a track to perhaps my own destruction. Another thing I discovered? Manual labor freaking sucks, pumping that handcart down the track was so much exertion.  I knew at the time I was not taking another job for adventuring if they couldn't tell me how much actual effort was needed! A policy I continue to fail at to this day.

Riders on the Fog

-Lost Ronia today, she was right next to me on the way back to the shack and then she was gone.  Didn't hear a scream or a shot just gone.  The fogs getting worse now, used to be able to see things in the distance, now I can't even see in front of my own face. Fatigue is back I can't place it really, probably related to the fog, when I'm in light I feel better, outside of it tired like I'd worked all day.  I don't know how many other people are left, I'm going to try and make the factory today, I think I saw the train still at the station.  Whatever gods are out there guide me, wait I heard someone at the door, maybe its Ronia?

--Final entry of the Dockmaster of Finley Island

My wards were not holding.  I mean to an extent they were, they kept firing off frying whatever tried to enter and then leaving not a damn trace of whatever tripped it to begin with. Combined with the tiredness (the journal was right light did make it go away a little bit, but either the fog had gotten stronger or light weaker, it only seemed to stem the tide a small bit) I knew my time in the dockmasters office would not be long if I kept there.  On top of that I wasn't hired to just sit and hopefully wait out the problems on Finley Island, I was hired to solve them, so that was what I intended on doing.

I gathered up what supplies I could fit and still be mobile, made sure the oil in the lamp was as stocked as it could be and set out.  I could see the shadows in the fog again, I knew it wasn't just my eyes playing tricks and the dockmasters journal confirmed that.  Whatever they were they didn't make a sound.  My own boots thumped on the wooden dock with each step no matter how carefuly I made them, but these creatures flittered about like some kind of bird or winged creature (maybe they were? I had no idea at the time). I kept the lamp in my right hand and my sword held in front with my left, visions of some silent killer that didn't really exist picking me off before I could see it danced in my head.  I made it off the dock I'd come in on and to the concrete beyond it, I saw signs of people leaving in a hurry, crates, clothing, and spoiled food lay spilled all over.  The fog seemed to fight my every step, getting thicker as I went in deeper, but the dockmaster had mentioned a train and I figured if it was still there maybe I could get it running and have a rolling light source all the way to the factory (modest hopes).

It was this kind of optimism that had me looking up and not down and I tripped over someones spilled luggage and came crashing to the ground.  My lamp shattered (so the luck that I had in the asylum was lost in this horrid place), igniting the the oil spreading out from it and actually providing more light than I had previously. This was a blessing and a curse as I now saw one hulking sea creature approaching me. It had two legs, one huge claw (on it's right side) and tentacled face.  I've never been one for eating sea food so I have no idea if this was a larger creature that normally exists in the water, or some ugly hybrid.  All I know is that it looked to want Trezlan tar tar and I'm not a big fan of being eaten (I didn't have time to figure out how the hell this creature was able to be quiet up until my lantern illuminating it, sue me I was kind of in a rush). I tried to think fast, I conjured fire with my now free right hand and launched it at the creature.  It vanished! I was about to cheer (silently, you know a little pep cheer in my head), but the creature appeared again closer this time, like I'd blinked and it had moved.  Suddenly I recalled my runes killing things and not actually killing them.

I'll admit I fled, I didn't care where at the time.  The smart move probably would have been towards the dockmasters office, but I've stated many times never been one for the smart move.  Plus with the fog I really couldn't figure which place I was running, its surprising I didn't end up just running into the water and potentially drowning. By whatever luck I run my life by I managed to make it to the abandoned train station (it wasn't really luck in my running I found light and ran toward it). The problem became of course that the station was meant as a transfer place not exactly a closed in location, so while the lights were there it was also covered in fog, so potentially the creatures.  I didn't have a lot of time to plot out a path, I just snagged one of the hanging lanterns made my way for a door, opened it and shut it behind me. It was only after I looked inside I realized I'd basically hid in a small supply closet.  Whatever creature was pursuing me (if any) slammed at the door behind me closing off another attempt to find a better locale.

So plus's I was where the train was supposedly, minus's I was trapped in a closet with a creature smashing against the door.  So like two steps forward three steps back type situation.

Outlook Appears Foggy

I believe I have mentioned before my observation skills are poor.  I've also mentioned how I frequently find myself in situations that I could have probably understood a bit better if I took a minute to assess things? Yeah Finley Island was no exception here.  Remember how I mentioned the fog? Well hours after sunshine should have burned it off it remained.  In fact if anything it got denser as the day went on. Along with the fog came whispers.  Not loud ones, but I know I heard things out there (and not just me going crazy, I know crazy this wasn't me gonig crazy.

I wanted to read the journal of the former dockmaster but I was struck with such a malaise any simple action was difficult to do.  I barely drug my trunk into the office and scrolled some sigils on the entry ways when I felt the overwhelming desire to take a nap. I wrote it off as having worked hard already and when I woke up the fog would be clear and I could explore.  But when I woke hours later the fog was still hanging around and I was still tired like I hadn't slept at all. I wondered if I was getting sick, if that's what had happened on Finley that some super illness had spread and killed everyone off, but I didn't feel sick, just tired.  And it wasn't like the Fog was natural or any illness I'd ever heard of involved some kind of fog.

No it was certainly unnatural. Fog is one of the easiest illusions to use against an enemy (well easy in that if you can actually conjure it), it especially works because idiots like myself will just assume its naturally occuring until its way too late to do anything. I felt my eyes drifting again when I heard a crash at the front door of the office and a pained scream as my sigils destroyed whatever tried to enter (the danger of ritual magic, it doesn't really discriminate friend from foe).  I sluggishly approached the corpse to find nothing there.  Like the door was open, the wood near where my sigil was scrolled was blackened from its use, but whatever had been destroyed by the magic was gone.  Like it had never existed in the first place.

I shut the door and worked a bit more magic around the frame, stronger this time since I now knew whatever was out there would try and get in. Looking out the window into the fog I could see shapes in it now, passing glimpses, but they were definately there.  And still the tiredness remained, it took all of my will to stand and watch the fog for what may be trying to eat me.  With my heart thumping in my chest I mouthed out "Shit." It was going to be a long day/night whatever the hell time it was.

Welcome To Finley Island

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!

Port O Problems

You would think a port that at one time serviced this anti magic gun factory would have a dirth of ships that would be available to take me there.  You'd be entirely wrong.  It was either the potential for storms or the strange malady that afflicted the island we wanted to get to, none of the larger commercial ships Hanlon contacted were willing to go out there (almost had me worrying Hanlon was just some crazy old guy in a robe and the island was where some mythical treasure lay buried... No thats not what happened this time, note I said this time).

At least I got to spend some time in the beautiful port city of Boloyo, and I am entirely being sarcastic.  While not as rundown and awful as others, it was an all business type place.  Inn's had cramped quarters with barely there mattresses at rates that did not seem fair for what you got as a customer. Restaurants were mostly seafood undercooked and tossed at you by someone who could care less whether you liked it or not.  All in all I would not recommend the service there for anyone, well I wouldn't who knows how Boloyo has gotten now that I'm in exile (did I mentioned I've been exiled from Ronerawth? Yeah long story I'm sure I'll end up telling it).

The old man did eventually find what looked like someones toy sailboat and a dumb kid willing to sail her out to the island.  I want to say I was encouraged by the boys attitude, but honestly it just highlighted how screwed I was in taking this job. I had my stuff loaded into what amounted to the cabin of the ship (two small cots lined with a couple crates of preserved food, not much for accomodations compared to the first class of the train) and saw Hanlon waving at me from the dock as the ship pulled away.  The boys name was Tim, but he told me his friends called him Tiller, seemed an odd name for a sailor to get, this coming from someone named Trezlan and everyone calls me by my made up last name.

Dread was the order of the day.  Much like on the train, I dreaded where we were going, why I was going there, and the fact I had to have a kid named Tiller to take me out there.  Visions of my last ship adventure came running through my mind.  I hoped that this time hopefully there would be no spider creatures.  Modest hopes indeed.

Trainversations

"And you'll be able to take care of the shop in my absence?" I was asking this of Tabitha even though she'd taken care of my shop before just not for a journey like this.

"You mean my shop when you die frozen and alone in the middle of an island? Sure I'll take care of it, have to change the name though, Lorentino part scares customers." Oh did I mention Tabitha was a bit of an ass? Yeah she kind of is, shocking I know.  I had a trunk packed with supplies and extra clothing, thankfully I was able to take a train to the dock so I didn't have to worry about trying to saddle my horse with all that crap (did have to pay a local horse cart to carry it to the train, because no way was I going to haul all that crap there by myself). At the trainyard I was met by Hanlon who handed me my ticket, it was first class (Like I deserve!).  I didn't see his two hired guards, but I'm sure they were around.  I was wearing a bit better atire, a long waist jacket some nice slacks and a button up shirt.  I had chosen to keep my sword in my luggage, because despite open carrying being fine on most train trips, I didn't feel it necessary and I thought it looked a little rougher than I wanted to present. My trunk was loaded in the rear of the train with everyone elses and a polite attendant showed me to the room I was sharing with Hanlon (no one else, first class passengers were normally afforded such fineries).  After the door shut Hanlon and I shared an uncomfortable moment of silence and then the train engines roared to life as the ticket takers barked out final commands to anyone nearby.

"It'll take a couple weeks to reach the port we need to get to." Hanlon spoke breaking the silence, he had informed me as much earlier, but I guess he felt he needed to say it again.

"That's fine the accomodations are better than the last time I was on a train." I rubbed my wrists, memories of shackles and whippings flashed through my mind.

"Couldn't afford a good trip?" Hanlon's voice was a polite gentlemanly sort, almost soothing, when he talked I had to be careful or he'd put me to sleep.

"Something like that." I didn't know how much he knew about me, and as someone with a line to the Imperial government I didn't exactly want to unload my whole life story.

"I hate Magic." It came out so point blank and fast it almost caught me off guard.  It was the kind of admission that someone wants to get out before the other person can fully digest what they said.

"I'm not really a fan myself to be honest." That disarmed him a bit, put him at ease.  I can see why someone without magic admitting to someone with it that they despise magic could make him a little worried how the sentiment would go over.

"That's why this factory is important you see."

"What did you mean by antigmagical weapons?"

"Metal with inscriptions make them completely immune to magic entirely.  You can't simply explode a magazine or rounds in the chamber, can't freeze the barrels or use some kind of wind or lightning against the user."

"I can see why that would be something you'd want to keep going."

"Indeed Mr. Lorentino, I'm sure as a user you don't see the need for us normals to worry about people like yourself, but I've seen the evil magic can do, I know its power and those who wield it are destructive forces, they must be kept in check!" His creed announced he laid down, our conversation was over.  He would do this to me a bit on our trip, announce something and then retire in front of me. Most of what he talked about was politics, hatred of magic, wanting to impose new restrictions, fear of the red hand that kind of stuff.  Hanlon was an interesting man probably hiding a couple horrible incidents in his past I never really got out of him.  I participated in conversations with him in as much as that he talked and I had to listen. For me it was a real change of pace I assure you! Still it was kind of nice for someone else to do all the talking, even if thats all he did for a two weeks as we got closer to his port, as we drew nearer I felt dread set in, I feared the train ride would be the only thing I'd enjoy and sadly I was very right...

Win/Win If you Win

I was in the back room nursing some injured hands (fell on the newly made paved sidewalks outside my shop, skinned up my hands, it wasn't too painful or lasting an injury but made things like sewing a real pain). I made due by just trying to sew easy stuff, like frills on a jacket (everyone wanted frills that year, I used more lace for mens jackets than I did for ladies underwear truely the saddest year for tailoring ever). In the years since the revolution and my ill concieved adventure to madness (I normally just vacation at madness).  I had hired some help around the shop, all shorties if you can believe it (I like hiring shorties, they work hard for the opportunity, fiercely loyal, and I get to feel like a giant). Having employees meant I got to actually rest every once in a while, and the better part, it meant I got to go off on damn fool adventures safe in the knowledge the shop would run without me (not that I particularly like adventuring, but I know it is my nature to be sent out to fight things). So it came as a bit of a surprise when one of my employees called me to the front. 

Tabitha was the oldest of my workers, completely self motivated.  Even when I'd offer to help her with something she'd shake me off and do it herself no matter how hard the work was.  Frankly it was nice for someone like that to be involved here, especially since I was the complete opposite about most things (Tabitha ran my books as well, because I despise accounting more than I despise helping others). So of all people who would ask for my help it would be even rarer for he to do so.  Intrigued I came to the front and was confronted by two men in suits standing next to a smaller man in a lavish robe.

"Something I can do for all of you?" I suddenly felt underdressed in my plain white shirt and raggity shorts, I hadn't expected to be needed so I was really just fiddling with some lace next to the fire place.  It hadn't gotten really cold in Rolak, but I could sense the cold coming.

"It is I who can help you." Of course the lavishly dressed one in the middle talked, they always do.  Suddenly I felt the need for my sword which was underneath the counter, sadly precious feet away from me.

"I'm not really looking to invest in any carnvials, though I'm sure the act is fantastic." Best to blow people off if you don't know who they are.  I mean its worked uhh never.

"Cute Mr. Lorentino I'm sure this wit is the reason you are as successful as you are." His voice spoke of never having been poor, all clipped and formal even in a shop that didn't exactly cater to the high class (Rolak wasn't full of poor people, but it was far enough from the capitol and other larger cities to really be more of a lower spectrum rich).

"I do fairly well all things considered, I'm sure you have an offer that can improve that?"

"That I do, my name is Tomas Hanlon of Hanlon arms, I'm sure you've seen my product before?" Hanlon arms was one of the larger private gun manufacturers in Ronerawth.  Originally they were an exclusive government contractor, but after the revolution showed that having all that power concentrated in the Empire alone was not a good idea, private gun makers expanded to making public weaponry. Hanlon's business exploded, over the last five years I'd heard a lot of interesting and terrifying things about the man and his group.

"Vaguely aware Mr. Hanlon, as much as a simple tailor could be." Have to play it close to the vest.

"Of course Mr. Lorentino, though I'm sure a person like yourself doesn't just want to be a tailor, or is the curiosities in your shops title just refer to you?"

"You want to put your product in my store? Why? There are other gun dealers in town probably better suited to this."

"Other dealers sure, and they do sell my guns, but you Mr. Lorentino are special."

"Special right, and for this priveldge of selling your merchandise you require a favor." It was always a favor, you never get something for nothing; always a price to pay.

"But of course, I have a factory, they make specialized anti magic weaponry, top of the line stuff, well they did, I've lost contact with them.  I petitioned the government to help me and was told the Ronerawth miliatry respects my issue, but could not spare anyone to help."

"And so you want me to figure out what's wrong with your factory, and for this you'll grant me the ability to sell your guns in my store." It sounded easy enough, which meant it most certainly was not.

"Exactly, win win really, you get new product and I get my factory back, I'd even be willing to comp you a couple shipments to see if you really want to sell the product to begin with."

"What's the catch?"

"Factory is on an island and with winter storms you might end up stranded there depending on how bad the storms get." Always a damn catch.

"And you realize I hate the water."

"I've been informed you have an aversion yes, but you also have an amazing ability for survival or so I'm told by my contacts, put simply you are the perfect man for the job." I hate when people appeal to my ego, its always so damn successful.

"You've got a deal, though I want this in writing!" And thus began an another damn fool journey.  I tell you I need to add a placard to all of my businesses "No damn fool request denied." Becuase honestly it seems like thats all I ever do!