The not-immortal Blacksmith

Maxwell

Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia.

2nd of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

Maxwell

The deep-sea fleet came back this morning. Minus five ships. One ship was barely floating, and most had some structural damage. It’s bad….

-

Max sat at a little café overlooking the bay sipping his coffee with his wife and the young rascal. Brandywine was flitting back and forth, almost vibrating, after drinking something called X-Press-O. In the distance they could all see the deep-sea fleet returning to port.

The closer the ships got, the more could be seen, especially the way they were arrayed in a curved defensive pattern around several ships. As the flotilla came closer, they could make out the reason why. The ships in the center were badly damaged, and one in particular was barely floating.

“Fleets coming in.” Brianna said, not really paying attention.

“They’re damaged.” Max said, throwing back the remains of his coffee in one gulp. “I’m heading down to take stalk of the situation. If it was pirates, I will be heading out immediately to have a word with them.”

“Enjoy yourself! And try to be home before dinner, if you can help it.” Bri replied, a small smile playing across her face. “If there are pirates, let me know. I want to have a word with them as well.”

Grendel looked back and forth between the two adults, and shuddered. He had heard what kinds of ends come to bandits, even seen it himself once or twice, but still, the thoughts made him shudder down to his little soul. Pirates? Here? They bloody well know better! They got warned that He was about, and that the islands were off the list, probably forever! What moron is out there now?

-

Max walked the quaint narrow street down to the stone piers the deep-sea fleet used, and began to survey the damage as the ships docked. No ballista holes on the heavily damaged ones. No fire damage, outside of the one over there that had its galley crushed. Crushed?

The most heavily damaged ship began to list in the water as it approached the pier. Cries went up from the dock workers and crew as a loud crack sounded and the ship started to sink. Lines were thrown, seamen jumped from the ship, and in less than two minutes all that was left was a slowly dispersing pool of flotsam in the water. Maxwell looked at the quickly healing rope burns on his hands as he took a quick breather with the rest of the dock workers.

“Hey friend.” Someone said from behind Max. “Glad you stepped up while most of this lot was just staring.”

Max turned around to see a dwarf, if a dwarf could be six feet tall, standing behind him, a big hearty grin spread across his face under his beard. “No problem. It’s what you do.”

“I see you are humble as well as good at the job.” The dwarf chuckled. “You seem to have some experience with ships, you want a job?”

“…Yes and no?” Max replied, glancing longingly back at the open sea. “My wife would string me up if I took a crew spot. Even for only a few days. We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Ah. Far be it for me to interrupt a couple’s nuptials.” The dwarf winked at Max. “If you want a spot once you’re done, come down to the pub and ask for Captain Jack. I’ll put you in the right place.” Then the captain walked past Max and started yelling orders to any and everyone on the piers.

Maxwell, of course, stayed around helping unload, so as to hear about the attack; not because he wanted to play at being at sea.

-

Maxwell’s Journal – continued

A Leviathan of some sort has started to make the area its home…

-

Maxwell looked at Bri and Grendel over the table at the local fisherman’s bar on the edge of the docks. “According to the captains, it was a large leviathan from the depths.” He took a swig of the local, mild beer and continued. “Apparently they aren’t uncommon in the area, but mostly leave the fishing fleet alone.”

“What kind of leviathan is it?” Bri asked, fork full of tasty fish halfway to her mouth.

Frown on his face, Max replied, “The serpent kind.”

Grendel’s eyes grew wide, and he placed his bread on his plate, “You mean the kind that the gods are supposed to slay at the end of the world?”

“Yes, and when did you start studying the old religions?” Max asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, there was this one time I got left behind in a wagon with a cat, and nothing to do but read.” Grendel responded. “It was either that, or listen to old people talk about how their joints hurt in the cold.”

“So, what is the fleet going to do about it?” Bri asked Max.

-

Maxwell’s Journal – continued

Tomorrow, we set out on a scouting expedition with three smaller, but deep sea rated ships. The small enclave of mages has agreed to send wind specialists along to add extra speed so we can hopefully escape if things get too rough.

I hope our hunt goes well.

-

Brianna

My husband is either very brave or very stupid. The deep fleet (as the locals call it) came back this morning with a lot of damaged ships. One was lost, all hands on deck, when a great Leviathan attacked the fleet. It was a serpent of enormous size, and wrapped itself around the Holy Order, crushing it in its grip and dragging it under.

At that point the fleet cut its nets free and made for home with all haste. Unfortunately, the beast attacked again, throwing coils of itself over the slower ships and breaking masts, cracking hulls, and snapping rudders. One ship had its galley destroyed and even caught fire!

Most of the ships are going to be in dry-dock for weeks, and others will be decommissioned and used for repair material. The faster ships will be out patrolling the harbor and a bit beyond. Most of the fishermen I spoke with personally are afraid to return to the sea for the time being.

As one sailor put it, “I can fight pirates. I’ve done that a time or two. I’m not afraid of the sharks, or the big whales; unlike that Haba idiot who kept chasing that big one.”… “But I will be damned if I will go out there with a serpent on the loose. We got off pretty lucky, as some of the damnable things can breathe fire!”

The economic damage this will cause will have the islands in poverty for most of a decade. The material costs to replace the nets. The need for more lumber to replace the damaged boats ships, lumber that will need to be logged off in the center of the isle, slabbed out, and cured for at least two years. Also, the taxes that the crown requires, even if there is an emergency. And of course, the island is so fiercely independent and proud, that they would never ask the crown for anything. They might be willing to ask the other islands to trade wood for wood, or maybe sheep for wood, but I doubt it.

My other concern is the outlying communities. I hope the beast doesn’t lay waste to any of the small villages along the coast. They are built almost on the water itself, and if anything attacked, they would be wiped out before anyone could sound an alarm.