Yggor's Island

A storm brewed even as Ariata and her companion spoke. The sea was calm as could be, despite Eras’s tantrums, but mere moments had passed before the island was rocked by gales originating from the high seas. Dark clouds churned like a spinning cauldron in the heavens, and ever-growing waves hammered at the shoreline like an army laying siege to a fortress.

And what a fortress it was.

Fog, thick as congealed blood, enshrouded the island like a veil. Maddening whispers moaned through the sea breeze as the gloom stretched out like spectral fingers. Though the waves relentlessly battered against the island, they never struck the shore - as if halted by an unseen hand and iron will.

Walls of stone and wood were erected a stone’s throw from the lapping tide, encircling the whole island. Rusted and rotting ships sat alongside pristine vessels of fresh timber, large and ready for the open sea, were tied to a moor not older than a year or two at the most. An icy chill filled the air while the stench of decay molested the nostrils.

A deathly silence hung in the air, compounded by the muted sounds of the storm and the moaning fog.

Unseen eyes watched the adventurers.

Who is this that intrudes upon my domain?

Lord Deathweaver, from his ebony throne, looked up upon the turbulent sky with icy cold eyes. He felt a presence, filled with light and undying, that drew up a well of hatred in his unbeating heart.

The lich reached for the black sphere resting on a pedestal beside him, and through it he spread his consciousness across the world and beyond. He saw across mountains, oceans, and plains. Deathweaver looked up, and his mind traversed the sky and the void. His fleet, scattered across the stars, awaited his call, but he bid them to be patient. Instead, the dread lich turned his attention to the raging star - Eras.

”Hear me, Eras.” He telepathically called to the entity through the spirit realm, ”I am Gro’chal, Chieftain of the Deathweaver Clan, a Naacani of the priestly line, and I speak for the ancient dead. We share a common enemy. Give me dominion over the dead and lost spirits of this world, and I shall wage war against the Champions of Gaia. My crusade will be waged regardless of your aid or blessing, but we can be mutual tools in our missions of vengeance…”

Crowson has left the area, heading south into Empyrean High Seas.

Crowson materializes from the void.

Crowson vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.

Captain Cooper stepped out onto the rickety docks of Yggor’s Island. The sea was calm, its godlike fury quenched like the deafening silence that followed a thunderclap. Salt caked his reanimated bones, and he released a breathless sigh. To smell the ocean air again…

Cooper discarded the thought and gestured to several ghouls. They heaved large crates and carried them aboard the frigate like machines. Gunpowder, cannon balls, ballistae bolts, and all manner of ammunition and supplies were carried into the lower decks. Far more than normal, Captain Cooper thought, but he cackled as he remembered a lost detail.

The dead had no need for rum and dried bread.

Armed with cutlass and pistol, Captain Cooper boarded his new ship. He tipped his tricorn hat back and glared at the sea with baleful eyes - empty sockets filled with icy blue flames. His master demanded loot and fresh recruits, and so the captain would deliver.

A ghostly tune drifted through the mists as the ship set sail, heeding the song of the depths.

Unnamed Frigate arrives, as if on queue.

Blood Red Rose departs, heading south.