Tales from Forgotten Europa

The Island
The boat went down, and they woke... somewhere

The initial meeting and adventure. Disimilar folk bound together by fate onto a ship sailing west to France. Home for some. Adventure for some. Death for some. A priest on a pilgrimage. A bounty hunter and his outlaw captive. A thief sentenced to hang. A young wizard running away from something. Two sullen dwarfs sentenced to conscript duty at Deau Vere. But the ship never berthed. Attacked by some mysterious forces, every soul onboard, even sworn enemies, united to fight for their very survival as the ship was torn to pieces beneath their feet.

They awoke, some 8-10 souls, the only members of the ship’s register left, on the sandy shingle of a deserted island. Wreckage and storm clouds the only company. They quickly realized they were not alone, though, as the sun set and things began to happen.

Each survivor struggled to survive on this bleak island, and each struggled also against their own minds, reliving the past, dwelling on the twists of fate, the bounds of love, the cruelty of despair. Each survivor crawled from the sea a marked man for one reason or another, and as they progressed inland, they began to realize that perhaps there was less random chance at play then any could guess at. Thieves were once princes, healers were once killers, and killers were once innocent.

Things progressed as the island was explored. Abandoned villages, freakish denizens, desperate battles all lay before the intrepid band of cast-offs. Voices from the immediate and long-forgotten pasts. Hordes of creatures, seemingly without end. And the wings of dark things filling the night air every evening. The way out was made clear at length. A ziggarat stands in a shallow valley on the island. Ancient and more than ancient. Peopled by ghosts and the foul creatures an old race devolved into. Gods moved on the island, toyed with it, watched the playthings struggle, and danced on their black altars. The ziggarat held the key, the escape, the exit.

Not all the survivors made it. Some fell so that others might go on. One rejected all revelations, all understandings, and persevered to the point of insanity. And one chose to stay. But after harrowing battles and frightening confrontations… some returned to the world, to Europa and all the rest. They lived to see tomorrow and to perhaps make sense of what they’ve learned and lived through. A pity that is not all that returned.

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