The Lore of Hydromancer Caligari of the Sea
Chapter One
The Sea belonged to Caligari.
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit he had raided from the shores of the Sand to the Northern Archipelagos. The ship was unmistakable; two masts stood proudly from the nightmarish dark red of the hull. It was the only ship on the ocean made from darkened bloodwood, a tree thought to be cursed taken from the deepest heart of the Thorn.
Last night's raid had gone as well as expected against those Wizards. The ship near invisible at night closed in on the Red Keep, its docks moored full of small trading vessels, the water still and quiet. Caligari stood at the bow of the ship surveying his target, the crew behind him stowing the oars and preparing their weapons. The crew were as good as any he had had, they could sail the roughest of seas without any aid from him, but Caligari was a hydromancer and it was this skill which made the Vengeful Spirit so deadly.
Raiding was a risky business, most of the crew were needed to maintain control of the ship or repel enemies during a raid, but with a hydromancer they could focus on the real job. The spoils.
Caligari turned to check on his crew, his black cape and tunic damp with the ocean spray. They were a sight to behold, dozens of eyes staring back with the faintest reflection of their polished rapiers. The Creole were a sea faring race, their lithe bodies hardened by the constant fight against the sea. As a fighting force they were unparalleled in close quarter combat, on the ocean the deck is your country, and they would not give an inch of it willingly.
Caligari smiled and raised his hands, a mist slowly rising from the unnaturally still sea. The bay of the Red Keep soon shrouded in the thick stifling fog. Lowering his arms and forming a spell the ship began to move forward on the crest of the wave. It was time to begin.
Anyone who could see through the impenetrable fog would have seen a ship moving in a way that defied logic, smoothly gliding across the glasslike surface. The ship did not turn but pirouetted and began moving in reverse before coming to a complete stop with a gentle bump against the solid wooden docks.
The loss of the Runes had seen more people lose their belief in magic, many thinking these so-called wizards were merely con-artists and tricksters, but one could not attribute anything but magic to the way Caligari controlled the water beneath his ship.
The bump against the docks would have usually been a warning sound to the guards that something was amiss, but the sound was smothered by the moisture in the air. The crew lept over the side of the boat and the sound of their bare feet rhythmically running matched the beating of Caligari’s heart.
Following his crew they dodge barrels, rope and tangled fishing nets stored haphazardly along the water's edge, the faint glow of fire from the windows gave them the light they needed, the doors shut tight against the miserable weather. The merchant ships were at the far end of the docks and the ship they were looking for, The Estorbaran, would be heavily guarded.
It was rumoured the ship had brought back tomes from the Sacred Pillars. They had found a library amongst the mountains occupied by an ancient order, their knowledge and lore isolated from the cataclysm and the Forgetting of the Runes. Caligari could not let the Red Wizards have access to that knowledge, that power.
Lanterns shone on a single moored ship, Caligari smiled at the open invitation. Bending low he signalled for his crew to follow, soft footsteps and the element of surprise. As the got within earshot of the Estorbaran, footsteps although muffled were audible, the clanking of metal boots on wet wood.
Ten guards on patrol by the sounds, more than expected. Caligari nodded and four of his closest crew moved off to the side, the rest waiting patiently in the shadows, ready to move in. Suddenly, shouts broke out, the splinter crew had been discovered. The sound of steel-on-steel cutting through the fog, lights began firing up all through the docks. They had been discovered.
The bulk of Caligari’s crew watch from their hidden position amongst the barrels, cargo and tackle lining the dock. The new lights from the ship casting an amber sphere silhouetting those within its influence dark wraiths amongst the eerie light. Most of the sailors were starting in the direction of the sword fight, towards the unmistakable screaming of men dying.
A booming voice came from the ship “Go help them you insufferable dogs!” the shadows turned to the voice and immediately began to charge towards the fight. Caligari and his men rushed forward, cutting the lines which tethered the ship to the dock before leaping onto the deck.
“Secure the ship” Caligari shouted, his crew now like ants looking for any potential threat on board. Caligari began to summon the water, first a small wave to move the ship away from the dock into the open water. Next he began to create a whirlpool spinning the ship on its axis before raising a crest to send the boat out into the open water.
He was never able to complete the spell as a crossbow bolt slammed into his should sending him tumbling across the deck. In his concentration he hadn’t heard the warning shouts of his crew as the captain had exploded from his cabin. The rocking of the boat had likely saved his life, the captain unused to the unnatural rolling of the deck. The pain exploded through Caligari, looking at his chest he could see the cruel iron bolt protruding from the front of his chest, his dark robes staining with the claret of his blood.
Propping himself up against the mast he saw the giant of a captain, his tube ears sticking out of his large green head. The Kobold captain stood at least a foot above the creoles around him, shirt unbuttoned showing a muscled green chest and arms as thick as a blacksmith. Tossing the crossbow to the ground he drew a thick sabre from its scabbard and pointed it at the eight men circling him.
The Kobold Captain pointed his blade at Caligari.
His guttural voice boomed across the deck “I thought it was a shame I missed your heart pirate, but now you get to watch your crew die before I cut it from your chest.”
At that threat Caligari’s men engaged, Gaines was Caligari’s second and dashed at Kobold with slash towards his back, his enemy spun and almost disarmed him with a parrying blow.
Augustin threw himself forward to block a swipe aimed at Gaines’ head, the power of the captain snapping his rapier clean through, the sabre finding its path slowed eventually by Augustins neck, blood spraying in a wide arc.
Gaines scrambled backwards as the body of his friend fell at his feet, lifeless, blood flowing freely across the deck. The Kobold Captain smiled as the remaining 6 members of the crew gave him a wide berth.
“I am Uur’Glok, you will take my name on your mind as you travel to wherever you call hell, you will scream my name into eternity”
He roared, louder and more fearsome than the deepest battle drum. As he finished he moved faster than a creature of his size should, lurching left and right, blows strong enough to push the Creole sailors to the edge of the deck, no more space to retreat.
Caligari tried to stand, tried to focus on the power of the runes but the pain was immense, it had broken bones, probably shattered some too. His left arm hung limp at his side but he could not watch his crew die. Would not.
Slowly he stood, sliding up the mast and using it for balance. Uur’Glok struck down another of his crew, guts spilling onto the deck. Another one of the crew slipped on the gore and was run through by the Kobold in between parrying successive attacks from the Creoles.
The beast was bleeding from a number of wounds but they wouldn’t stop him from destroying the rest of the crew, Kobolds didn’t die easily and this one would meet death and laugh at him. Two more sailors died in quick succession, the remaining four were panting heavily, some bleeding all worried.
“STOP” Caligari managed a weak shout, the crew halted immediately, the Kobold turned and smiled.
“Look at the little man, tired of watching your men die, is it their turn to watch you die, yes Uur’Glok thinks so.”
The Kobold walked towards Caligari, blade held low like a headsman walking to the chopping block. Calgari, ignoring the pain, focused and mumbled a spell, he could feel the magic around him, he was grasping at it, like trying to grab handfuls of the ocean, running through his fingers like water.
Uur’Glok continued his languid pace, savouring the moment of his victory. Caligari did not raise his eyes, he knew he was now in striking distance, the runes were his crews only chance. The Kobold raised his sabre high and gripped it with both hands, he would sever Caligari’s head and mount it in his cabin.
The Kobold didn’t begin to swing the sword, his insides froze, he clutched at his chest his large heart beating but moving nothing.
Caligari looked up and grimaced the pain visible on his face. “Not today”. Closing his fist finished his spell, all the blood in the Kobolds body was pulled through his pores, a red mist dissipating into the grey fog of the bay.
Caligari collapsed.
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Chapter Two
There is a moment everyday when the ethereal and the real meet. That point upon waking where you must decide what is real and what is the dream.
Sometimes you try to wish away what you know to be the truth. No dream is ever as genuine as real life, there is always a visceral doubt, a layer of protection from the events, there would never be protection from the fight against Uur’Glok.
Even now, when waking in familiar surroundings he could feel the sense of dread for himself and his crew, the moment of feeling helpless, unable to help protect those he loved. The desperation he felt had led him to the runes but that power gave him a dreadful choice. The runes weren’t meant for destruction, he had never been told that but he knew it to be true, wielding them in the manner he did, pulling the blood through Uur’Glok’s skin was a horror that filled him with a deep sickness. Using the magic had felt wrong, oily and impure.
The red mist rising and coating his face was an image painted on the inside of his eye-lids, inescapable even into the ethereal world of the dream masters.
Sitting up gave Caligari all the confirmation he needed that the fight on the Estorbaran was real. The left arm was useless and would be until he could find a skilled healer, even then it might not work fully. Pulling open his white linen shirt with his good hand, the dark skin was mottled with purple and red, a small puncture wound had been neatly stitched, dried blood surrounded the wound.
Propping himself up against his bed head he surveyed his quarters. The map table at the centre of the room stood proud, elegantly carved legs detailed with gold, the solid top perfectly flat and embedded with the finest red felt. On the left his library held maps, tales and journals from other Creole wayfarers, the knowledge passed down through generations. That library was like living a hundred lifetimes on the Salt and the Brine.
It was to the right where his eyes finally landed. A glass tank containing books of lore and the history of the runes. It was his life goal to aid in the attempt to restore the knowledge of the runes to the world, they should never have been lost, he would not let them be lost entirely. The knowledge of the Runes needed to be shared, but some of the power and spells within those tomes could not just be given up, not until the world was ready. The tank could only be disarmed by a hydromancer of sufficient skills, each book floating in a tiny bubble of air within a solution designed by a hag, if the tank was broken it would destroy the books instantly and he was assured that nobody who stuck a hand in would want it back. The ability to add more books to that collection was the only brightness on his dark mood this morning.
Caligari’s dark thoughts broke through once more, the sight of his dead crew, four at least, all because he didn’t stay alert while securing the deck, there was more blood on his hands. There was always risks during raids, but negligence by a captain was not easily forgiven, especially not by himself.
The fact he was in his quarters on the Vengeful Spirit meant that the splinter group had succeeded in drawing away the guard and escaping on the ship; he had expected casualties there so there might be more souls to add to his conscience.
Replaying the night in his mind started to make him angry, so many avoidable mistakes, so many lives lost all to satisfy his thirst for lore.
The door to the cabin swung open and Gaines stuck his head in, the the smell of food from the kitchen following his gaze into the room.
“Good to see you up Captain, lost a lot of blood and had us a little worried for a few days”
A few days? He’d been out longer than he’d thought.
“How many?” Caligari asked in a cold voice.
“Five” Gaines lowered his head and put his hand in a fist against his forehead. A mark of respect for the lost.
Caligari copied the gesture, “who else did we lose?”
“Anathena died from her wounds yesterday, there was nothing we could have done, even with a healer, by the time Antoine had led the splinter group back the boat she’d lost nearly all of her blood, they got her to the ship and patched her up but there was too much to do.”
There was pain in Gaines’ voice, Anathena had joined the ship with him, a second sister. Caligari’s internal rage softened in the face of his friend's loss. Gaines liked to shove his emotions down, the calm emotionless second was the tactician on the ship, any pain dislodging his usual facade was fervent.
Caligari broke the silence between them “ Have the rights been passed?”
“Aye captain, I performed the ceremonies for the lost last night, the moon was changing and we didn’t know when you’d be returned to us.”
The captain nodded, he wouldn’t get the closure he wanted. The rights were to return the soles of the creole to the Gods of the sea, so their spirits could keep the tides flowing for eternity. It was also for the crew, they would drink rum and tell stories of their fellow sailors' deeds until the sun rose, explaining to the moon why it should light the way to the hallowed halls.
Caligari’s voice breaking slightly “Did she shine bright?”
There was a tear in Gaines’ eye but his voice remained solid “Brighter than I’ve ever seen her sir”
“She’s one with the ocean now my friend, free to ride the waves into eternity”
Gaines nodded composure returning as he stuffed his emotions down to the depths.
“Did we manage to secure anything of value from The Estorbaran?”
“Not yet” Gaines replied
“What do you mean not yet? She’s still afloat?”
“Yes sir, we found what we were looking for, well, I, I think you should see for yourself.”
“Booby traps, that would make sense I can’t be the only Lorist who sees the potential danger when handling knowledge of the Runes.”
“Not traps, sir”
“Locks? Surely you’ve got the skill to open a couple of chests Gaines” the look on Gaines’ face showed Caligari he was wrong once again. Confusion reigned.
“Well what Gaines because either I’ve lost more blood than I thought or you’re not just making a lot of sense.”
“Sir ,you just need to see it.”
Well Gaines certainly had his attention now. “Help an old man out of bed then”. Getting up and moving was harder than anticipated, he was weak from lack of food and water whilst he’d been out, the shoulder and arm were a dead weight. He managed to thrown on some linens and head out into the bowels of the ship. The crew who were awake nodded and saluted has he passed, his mind tormented him each time “more than you deserve”, but he nodded back to each of them.
One of the crew gave him a bowl of soup and some bread as he passed, not realising he was unable to eat it whilst moving, someone obviously thought he healed like magic as well as been able to use it. As they climbed the steps to the deck sunlight and a fresh breeze struck Caligari, there was nothing else like the salty air on the open seas to revitalise a sailor. On deck he could see The Estorbaran about 60 yards off to the portside, she was a big galley for a skeleton crew, but the experienced sailors kept both ships at a steady distance.
Gaines hopped into a small row boat and couldn’t help but laugh at his captain. Stood half dressed in mismatching linen, soup bowl and precisely balanced bread, it wasn’t the look of the fearsome raider pirate spoken about in port towns all along the coast.
Caligari laughed himself and passed the bowl to Gaines before lowering himself onto the seat of the boat, taking the soup bowl back he began to tuck in with the bread using his lap as a table. The boat was lowered into the waves and Gaines rowed them across to The Estorbaran. The trip allowed Caligari to eat the soup and he could feel his energy and mood improving as he climbed the rigging one handed to the deck.
A flashback caught Caligari off guard, the gore on the deck, the screams of his crew, that nightmarish Kobold, a moment of panic ran through him, breathing hard he staggered back into the taffrail.
“Captain?” Gaines said as he thumped onto the deck next to him.
It snapped Caligari back to reality, there was no gore on the deck, it had been recently sanded and polished. New boards had been affixed removing the scuffs and scrapes of the previous battle. The crew had repaired the ship as if it was their own, even though they knew they would scuttle it as soon as the captain awoke. It was a Creole tradition, on the ocean the ship was the only protection between you and death, you would look after her or she wouldn’t look after you.
“So whats this mystery?” trying to hide panic.
“Down in the hold” Gaines pointed but didn’t move, solo it was.
The ship was bigger than his, so he passed down through the now empty crew quarters, the bunks gently swinging with the pitching of the boat. The crew had already gathered their loot from the holdings of the previous crew, only trifles and papers left.
Another set of stairs took him below the level of ocean, no portholes down in the dark, just he ruddy glow of the lanterns hung on the side of the supporting timbers. Small pools of water sloshed about, his boots splashing as he made his way to the aft of the ship.
There was no strongroom down here, just the brig. Confused, he walked to the door of the cell and looked through the black iron bars. Caligari staggered backwards until he smashed his head on the hull. Pain immediately flooded his left hand side, his dead arm not quite dead afterall.
Sat in the centre of the room was a man, or was it a man. It’s body looked human, two arms, two legs, wearing a white torso too clean after many days in the brig, the problem was the head. It was a pyramid, golden and glowing, a central eye,lidless, staring forward.
Caligari had seen mythical creatures before,those of the depths wouldn't come near a wielder of the rune but they would inspect them, they hadn’t forgotten what humans had. Caligari had read of Illuminatus in his books of lore, but always second hand accounts, he dismissed them as allegory, a human version of those ancient mages.
No wonder the crew wouldn’t come down here this was beyond their expertise, it was beyond Caligari.
“Why so?” A voice rippled through his thoughts. “That thing shouldn’t exist that’s why” he answered himself.
“‘Thing’ isn’t a very pleasant way to describe someone”.
Caligari froze, he wasn’t talking to his subconscious, he was talking to an Illuminatus, in his head. “Sorry” was the best he could muster.
“Accepted,” the voice replied. In hindsight there was a difference in the voice between his consciousness and the Illuminatus. It’s ‘voice’ had more depth, more meaning, it spoke only truth.
They both sat in silence, Caligari was unsure how to carry on a conversation with someone inside his head, so strove to think of nothing. The illuminatus understood time differently so he was not sure if this was a usual pause in conversation.
“Are you an Illuminatus?” Caligari asked the barred door.
“Yes” it replied.
“Why are you here?”
“Why is anyone here?”
Caligari already felt out of place and now with an ancient being rolling metaphorical questions around his skull he’d had enough.
“Don’t leave Caligari.”
Obviously if someone could speak into your mind they could also read it as well. That was disconcerting.
“If I’m going to keep talking to you, if we even are talking and I’m not
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