brimstonekeep

[brimstonekeep]

1 . Storm Over The Grey Mountains

You have been working for several weeks as a deckhand aboard the airship Orsonus, a sturdy yet ageing vessel built for long-haul cargo runs. The spacious hold is currently filled with casks of ice fluid, precious freight worth more than its weight in gold to the right seller. The ship's bulbous envelope looms above you, its surface stretched taut like the carapace of some ancient beast. Suspended beneath the envelope, by a crisscross of ropes and cables, hangs the gondola. Its lacquered jetwood hull creaking softly in the night air.

Tonight, the Orsonus drifts high above the Grey Mountains, slowly thrust forward by the whirring rear-mounted propellers. While most of the crew sleep, you and your mates are assigned to deck duty. Crouched at the aft of the airship, you are all busy scraping ice off a tight bundle of rigging cord. At this altitude, guy-ropes are known to shatter.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt as the airship is rocked violently. The deck lists at an obscene angle and everyone tumbles towards the guardrail. There is a scream as one of the crew flies straight over the edge, plummeting into empty sky. You scramble, fingers clawing at the rigging. Just in time, you get a firm grip, holding yourself secure, as more of your crewmates fall into the abyss. There is a rumbling from deep within the hull as the loadstone shifts to compensate for the sudden tilt. After what seems like an age the deck returns to level. While the lucky survivors struggle to their feet, you hear a shout from the lookout: "Pirates!".

Shaken, you furtively look over the side of the vessel. About ten wingspans below the guardrail, protruding out of the gondola's port side, you see a giant harpoon. Knotted through a loop at its base, a thick rope descends into the darkness. Swarming up the rope, illuminated by flickering torches, you see the raiders. They move with an unnatural speed, their chilling battle-cries overloud in the wind. There is precious little time before they will be at the hull.

The commanding voice of Edred the bosun snaps you to attention. “You there!” He points directly your way, “Tell the pilot that we’re skewered, we need less Luft! Go to the cockpit now!” You dart towards the cockpit ladder. Without missing a beat he addresses your crewmates, “Listen up! Konrad and Raith make ready to fire the ballista. The rest of you grab your gable-saws and get over the side. We need to sever the harpoon double quick!” The crew springs into action. Just as you reach the ladder there is a deafening explosion and your back is buffeted by blistering debris. Wheeling around you see a scene of carnage. The deck is a shattered wreck, awash with blood. Your crewmates are strewn about, writhing in agony. You flinch as another barrage peppers the hull. Edred's mangled body lies motionless nearby. With the commanding officer dead,

[brimstonekeep]

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1 . Storm Over The Grey Mountains