Event 13 – The Siege Begins – From the Seas
It was two hours into Otto’s shift in the early hours of the morning when a miserable drizzle added to the already miserable mist that covered the bay. It was cold and gloomy. The only illumination came from a hooded lantern and the stars outside. As he stared out towards the ocean in a trance he had a nagging feeling that he was missing something…
Suddenly Otto realised that he had been staring at a slowly growing shape in the distance, its outline blurred by the mist and rain. As he focused on the shape, he realised it was a
ship, a galleon. An unfamiliar Galleon… Then two more shapes emerged from the mists as if they came from another plane. As Otto was about to turn to light the signal fire as the realisation hit, panic started to choke him and blood pounded in his ears, he saw the first cannon shot flare from the foremost ship. The next few minutes felt as though he was moving through the thick sludge of the swamps of Bleakmire as a barrage of alchemical acid tore the watchtower apart underneath him. His reactions were not as slow as he perceived as he instinctively dove from the tower into the waters below.
His heart stopped for a second as the frozen needles of the icy water instantly soaked him to the bone. The surging he heard was coming from the waves, and the blackness he found himself in was impenetrable. He flailed for a moment and then relaxed and floated to the surface, gasping for air. He looked up to see the watchtower completely torn asunder, the signal torched setting the rest of the ruins ablaze, lighting the surrounding area with an ominous red tinge. He was startled by something slimy rubbing past him underwater. When he looked he saw the outline of a monstrous crab silently slipping past him in the direction of the enemy ships, a black beady eye staring back up at him before it disappeared beneath the waves.
Otto started swimming towards the shoreline as the watchtower line quickly lit up. He collapsed onto the beach exhausted from his swim as more watchtowers and buildings exploded on the shoreline. He turned to look out to sea again, shocked and numbed from the events.
As he stared dumbfounded, more and more ships emerged from the mists. As he stood there on the beach, shouts and alarm bells started to penetrate his dark thoughts as the militia started to mobilise, now completely aware of the imminent danger. Bleakmirian warships began to appear from the other side of the bay and as the enemy ships become more distinct, he felt a rage rising inside him as he recognised the colours… Gypsies. Filthy Gypsies! As his rage threatened to consume him, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as the first of their giant undead whales breached, nearly tearing the foremost ship in half. It took mere minutes for the gypsy galleon to sink beneath the waves, most of its crew not having enough time to abandon ship, trapped below decks.
The few survivors who managed to escape the doomed vessel thrashing about in panic as rotting tentacles snatched them under water one at a time until none were left.
His heart lept for joy as he saw the Bleakmirian Sigil emerge from the mists, powerful necromancers on the bows of some, summoning undead, magical energy crackling in the air. Wraiths screeched toward the Talo-Kingdom fleet, leaving death in their wake.
With the Talo-Kingdom fleet decimated, Otto stood on the beach, his laughter ringing in the night.