Editing Endless Isles: The Semarian Archipelago (section)

==The Island Lyrll==

It had been another long, fruitless day. Baron Rivers remained a living man, if not a whole one. Another wretched day without the breakthrough they were after. And they had been so sure!

Warden Medreon hung the iron tongs on the wall dejectedly, and blew out the oil lamps illuminating the dank cell. Rivers could wait until tomorrow for the medic. He wouldn't die, Medreon had made sure of that. It would do the pirate good to have a night on the rack to reflect on how much of a disappointment he was being.

There had to be something missing! But what? The warden headed down to the kitchens to make himself a late meal, the cooks having retired for the night several hours later, and then resolved to catch up on his paperwork. All five years of it.

The man sighed heavily, and longed for the feel of the breeze on his face and his hammer in his hand.

Five years of paperwork to catch up on. Thankfully, that amounted to little more than the few letters from his immediate family, and whatever progress Brother Coates had made out to the east. This, in fact, turned out to be a modest stack of letters and parchments, all a little damp, but all safe. Transporting the fruits of Coates' efforts to his chambers, Warden Medreon removed his armor (an unnatural feeling after this amount of time!) and made notes on his height, skin condition and weight in his ledger. He shaved himself clean, head and face, and then knelt in brief prayer to the God of Fortitude, asking for the strength to continue diligently in his duties for another day. Them, he settled onto his sleeping board, dimmed the oil lamp, and opened the first letter...

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'''13th July, 1822'''

The approach to the Semarian Archipelago has been smooth so far, as it should <br/>
be in charted waters. Although it loathes me to pen such a comment,<br/>
the brigands I have secured passage with have been reliable,<br/>
if a little untrustworthy. How I long to bring them to justice, but alas, they<br/>
are necessary for now. As long as they do not ask about my past and homelands <br/>
(and they won't, considering how much they were paid to carry me)I should be fine.<br/>

The captain is a gruff man, every bit the brigand we were warned of in the monastery. <br/>
I wouldn't trust him with my old robes, and yet here I am letting him sail me across <br/>
leagues of dangerous ocean! Nevertheless, he is good at his 'job' - see my enclosed <br/>
notes on the operation of a typical pirate crew for more detailed information on <br/>
his practices.<br/>

The captain has informed me that the first port of call on his trip to the archipelago <br/>
will be the island-state of Leryll. That will be where I stop off and begin my investigations <br/>
into that heathen place. For future record (as I am permitted to say at this juncture), <br/>
it is my most sacred task to ascertain if the Semarian Islands are acceptably free of <br/>
Piratical taint, and if not, then to find and secure sympathetic ears in order to found <br/>
a new monastery to the East.<br/>

We shall see.

''Coates''
</div>

--
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'''27th July, 1822'''

<The warden noted the significant dribbles of ink on this letter - water damage had gotten to this more than most>

Storm damage notwithstanding, we have made it in one piece to the archipelago.<br/> 
The typhoon has dampened most of my parchments, but they are drying now. Sorry <br/> 
if this is a little smudged. Nothing else of note to report, save for the <br/> 
brigand who tried to take advantage of the foul weather to rifle through my <br/> 
belongings. Fortunately, I had decided to take my meal in my cabin that night <br/> 
so when I invariably caught him in the act, I -

<The comment was smudged beyond legibility here, no doubt due to the dampness of the parchment. Or was that the sign of a damaged quill nib?>


- Leryll tomorrow. I cannot wait to be rid of this ship. The looks I get from <br/> 
the crew are starting to disconcert me. Do they know?<br/> 

It doesn't matter if they do, I can probably swim from here if I have to.

''Coates''
</div>

--
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'''29th July, 1822'''

I was right; they did know. Swam to Leryll yesterday, but not before leaving a <br/>
small parting gift in the forecastle of Captain Wick's vessel. It was a simple <br/>
matter to bluff the patrol boat that I had been a survivor of the unfortunate <br/>
kitchen accident that sent the vessel up in smoke. May the gods have mercy on <br/>
me for not telling the patrol about the same freak accident that secured <br/>
cannonballs to the crew's feet in the night.<br/>

Leryll is a spectacular place for an island settlement. Amazingly, it is <br/>
relatively unfortified, relying on the locals and their constant boat patrols <br/>
to keep the ara secure. It does a good job as well, and means that they have <br/>
had time to focus on architecture... and art.<br/>

And what art! They even have galleries here! Of all places! What's more, it <br/>
might even be a match for some of the larger collections in the Core. A <br/>
hidden sanctuary of beauty at the edge of the world...<br/>

But I ramble. I have found adequate and modest lodgings for the night, with <br/>
the friendliest serving staff. This may not be a bad place to set up a convent <br/>
after all...<br/>

''Coates''
</div>
--
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'''30th July, 1822'''

Forgive me, I am shamed! I did not know that this was a house of ill repute!

As I quickly absconded the 'inn' rather than brake my vows of chastity, I bore <br/>
witness to the most heinous transformation I have had to see. The most disgusting <br/>
perversion of tranquility! For at night, it seems that Leryll becomes the <br/>
playground of the debauched, a carnival of unwholesome, wicked things. Thrice was <br/>
I accosted by some painted harlot on a street corner. Six times I was approached <br/>
with the offer of narcotic substances or worse. This is not a place of beauty at <br/>
all, but a facade for the twisted fantasies that lie in the black heart of the <br/>
heathen and the brigand, where people drop their illusion of civilization and <br/>
wallow like animals in a mist of drink, drugs and evil pastimes!<br/>

I think I have managed to escape from the inner part of the city. Fortunately, <br/>
there was a blacksmith nearby. He was drunk, much like everyone else. I have a <br/>
hammer now. I feel safe.<br/>

''Coates''
</div>
--
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'''31st July, 1822'''

They don't deserve this beauty. None of them deserve it. If anything has<br/>
convinced me that these archipelagos are the spawn of all that is evil and <br/>
wrong, it is that such divine grace can be twisted in such a way.<br/>

Last night, shortly after the completion of my previous letter in a dark <br/>
alley away from the animal-passions of the cursed citizens of this place, I <br/>
was approached by a man trailing a dozen or so children, chained together by the <br/>
left ankle. This made me suspicious, but I never would have guessed that he would <br/>
ask me if I wanted to 'rent' one of them.<br/>

I feel dirty to even be a member of the same race as these people. Perhaps I am <br/>
not and they are less than human; a study for a future date, perhaps. He felt the <br/>
cold end of my hammer. And again. And again. If he is Deathless, then I will hunt <br/>
him down when we have secured our monastery here and ensure that he lives for a <br/>
very long time indeed.<br/>

The children, of course, were irredeemably tainted; I could see in their hollow eyes. <br/>
It pained me to do so, but I released them from their torture. See the atrocities that <br/>
I must commit to save the souls of these damned animals! It was not a prudent idea to <br/>
stay longr; if I were to be discovered, the locals might descent upon my purity with <br/>
the force of an ocean smothering a single bonfire.<br/>

I write this now from the underbelly of a patrol boat I managed to latch onto. As I <br/>
leave the twinkling lights and innocent sounding music of Leryll behind, I have to <br/>
wonder if this trip was a good idea. If the rest of this archipelago is as wicked as <br/>
that island, perhaps we should be thinking of conquest and rehabilitation, rather than <br/>
of co-operation.<br/>

''Coates.''
</div>
--

Medreon closed the letter, and stared at the wall for a while. Had it really been a good idea to send Coates after all? Destroying a ship, maliciously murdering it's crew, stealing a blacksmith's hammer and using it to kill a man and 6 children, even before his first week had ended in the archipelagos!

Perhaps there were too many sinners in the Semarian islands. They should have sent more clerics. What a pity. Still, the Warden was effectively an observer to Coates' mission, and the large stack of unopened letters was reassuring - the man might still be alive, even now. It was tempting to continue, but it was getting late, and there was work to be done tomorrow. So much work. Perhaps Rivers would be more co-operative...

Warden Medreon placed the opened letters in a new pile next to the unopened ones, blew out his lamp, and closed his eyes, drifting off to the wails of the captives in the dungeons.