Author’s note: This story is my submission for the December 28, 2022 prompt on Iron Age Media titled “The Icebroken,” Special thanks to Discord acquaintances “Blackhatter,” “Baldbeastie,” “Mearn4d10,” and “Writerloverpsychopomp,” for being beta readers and providing valuable feedback. Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated.
Author: James Meyer
The cold is unbearable, even with the furs and heavy coats. The wind whips, lashes, slashes, and bites with merciless regularity. Misty fog thickly surrounds in all directions. In this weather, there is no pity for the weak. Even the strong struggle against the freeze. Death stalks like a wolf and watches like a hawk, waiting for one to fall behind and become prey to the elements.
A nine-member group trudges and bumbles its way through the tempest. They hold each other together by a hempen rope tied around one another. Not all are equally suited to the climate. Yet even those who are better equipped still battle against the storm. The journey has taken a toll on all involved. They would not have survived without each other. Dead reckoning and honed senses are the only useful tools right now.
Dungrin Thundercrag squints up at the sky. The wind nearly blows him over, but his friend Medrash braces him. It is impossible to tell time by the sun because it cannot be seen. How long had they been traveling? How much farther to their destination? Dungrin steadies himself on his own feet, completes four strides, then kneels into the snow.
He sharply tugs the taught rope once. Two similar tugs return. His response is three tugs and patience. Seconds blister by. Enough to become minutes. At last, four tugs end the conversation. All members are accounted for. Dungrin stands and continues walking. The group is behind him and all press onward within the wailing winds and wet. They were almost there. They had to be.
Tactics change. With great caution and slowness, the Cloakwood Seekers walk at an angle to the left. The only landmark to provide navigation was the Sea of Moving Ice. Wandering too far away into the tundra would mean new frozen sacrifices for Auril. Following the shoreline granted the best chance of success in the harsh domain of the Cold Goddess. Blackpyre Bay is the end goal for the group.
Believed to be lying still in its center is a strange vessel. A ship not made from any race or clan residing in the Sword Coast or beyond. A ship not built of wood, but of metal. No one knows how it arrived on the frigid shores of Blackpyre Bay. Wild rumors abound of the schooner, yet none had hard answers.
The new strategy succeeds. The sea returns to a blurry view. The weather is still unrelenting, but a reliable marker is found again. With more confidence, Dungrin pushes against the biting wind and the blinding fog. The Seekers soldier on, wallowing in the sleet and slush. Time passes evermore with the sea on the starboard. More repeating nothingness crawls by in the frigid landscape opposite.
Auril’s furious and wrathful storm continues to pelt and pound, but slowly it abates. The winds quiet and the snow begins to blow vertically instead of horizontally. Even the oppressive fogs dissipate and fade. Finally, the journey concludes. The finish cannot be discovered until the last patches of fog are gone and the party breaches the edge of Blackpyre Bay. Their destination lies ahead.
In the middle of the bay lays the fabled ship. It sits cradled atop ribs of hard snow and ice as if it were in a dry dock. The fore rises slightly upwards, perhaps posing in unknown majesty or pointing toward its destination. A strange structure straddles the back and middle thirds. It rests, frozen statuesque in time and place, clothed in all its alien glory.
None of the Seekers have seen anything like this before. The rumors are proven correct. The vessel appears built totally of metal. This is strange work. Even the skyships of Eberron are mostly made of wood. And what is the point of the odd collection of windows and doors? It almost appears as if houses had been clumsily stacked and then jammed or forced onto the ship.
“Ha ha ha! There is it!” Dungrin heartily bellows.
“It’s about time,” Medrash sharply injects.
“Yondalla has seen us through our journey!” proclaimed Merric.
“What a strange ship,” observes Paavu.
“Indeed. It is made wholly of steel and glass,” agrees Lydelphi.
“I do not trust the design of this vessel,” declares Stripes.
“I wonder what secrets lie within,” questions Elora.
“I want out of this miserable cold. Wizard, cast the tiny hut!” demands Silver.
“I’m working on it!” retorts Flare.
Any questions held by the party must be answered later. Now is the time for making camp, celebration, then rest. The wizard magically creates a tiny hut that shelters the group from the abated elements. The space is tight but cozy and safe. Good rations are shared amongst the party. Once warmed, Silver keeps the mood lively with songs and sagas. They will rest for now.
“Dungrin, when we are done here in these cold lands, we have earned time to rest yes?” asked the Tabaxi skald.
“Yes Silver. Once we’re done in the Dale, we’ll take time to rest,” confirmed the Dwarf.
“I can’t wait until then. I want to go back to Waterdeep,” impatiently spoke the Fire Genasi.
“I’m going to go home, see my family, and tell them stories about all the adventures we’ve had,” exclaimed Halfling.
“I will enjoy dissecting this discovery and learning all that can be. Maybe it can influence our current designs,” pondered the High Elf.
“You owe me many sparring sessions Medrash,” declared the goliath.
“I know Paavu, and I look forward to them,” agreed the Dragonborn.
“What will you do Stripes? You are not a city person like the rest of us,” inquired the human.
“I will remain in the wilds close by to keep my skills sharp. Tell me the location and the number of days when we will rejoin and I will be there,” described the Shifter.
“Alright, everybody go to sleep. We have an important day tomorrow and we’ll need our strength,” commanded Dungrin.
The party takes watches during the rest yet no trouble comes. Blinding auroras shine in the dark sky, dancing brightly and vibrantly. But from the deck of the icy vessel, light blue eyes observe the party. Surrounding it are seven rough cloaks which are one-fifth the height of the piercing eyes. A snow flurry passes in front of them, obscuring their view. Like shadows melting into darkness, they vanish as quickly as they appeared.
The party is well-rested for the next day. They begin preparations to cross the bay and explore the ship. The ropes around them are lengthened to ensure that if the ice gives way, not all will fall through at once. Dungrin takes the first step onto the icy lake. It holds his weight. Each member of the Seekers gingerly follows suit.
One by one they cross the frozen lake’s threshold. All are unaware they have traveled the point of no return. The journey closer to the ominous shell of the boat is uneventful. It is a respectable size for a seagoing craft. The stern is touching the ice and a metal ladder is attached to allow access above. Dungrin seizes the initiative and begins to climb up.
Though Merric and Paavu voice concerns, the Seekers follow Dungrin and ascend to the main deck. It is blanketed by clean, crisp undisturbed snow. They are no signs of other creatures being here on the boat. They are greeted by the back end of the odd, freestanding structure. It seems to reach 30 or 40 feet into the air. Glass windows demarcate each level of the building.
The deck itself is ten feet wide and rings the odd construction. The party can see that it widens towards the bow. A fully metal door with a rod affixed seems to beckon usage. No other means of entering are visible. Dungrin tries his luck with the rod and door. With moderate effort, he levers the bar from horizontal to vertical.
The rod lifts and Dungrin pushes and shoves the door open. It swings inside the structure, allowing the Seekers entry. The walls are metal and the floor is woven carpet. Directly ahead are two sitting benches joined together, forming a sharp angle. Bordering the glass windows is a hallway leading along the building. To the right, stairs lead down into the belly of the metallic beast.
“Which way do we go?” asks Medrash.
“We should explore ahead. Maybe these rooms are sleeping quarters,” suggests Flare.
“Agreed. Perhaps somebody kept a record and we can learn about the ship,” says Silver.
“No. We should venture below and see what mechanisms propel the ship,” objects Elora.
“I am intrigued about what kind of cargo such an odd ship like this is carrying,” muses Lydelphi.
“We’ll split up. Myself, Silver, Flare, and Paavu will search above the decks. The rest of you search below,” decides Dungrin.
“That is an acceptable plan. Do the rest of you have your sending stones handy?” inquires Stripes.
Merric, Paavu, and Dungrin retrieve carved stones from their side pouches and present them to each other. Merric and Paavu’s pair are slate grey, while Stripes and Dungrin’s match is ruddy brown. Silver repeats a stanza of notes accompanied by a rhyme. The music inspires a grateful Elora.
The larger group of Seekers descends into the unlit bowels of the vessel. After they are gone from sight, the smaller group follows down the hallway. Repeating along the right-hand side are wooden doors. Flare checks one and it is unlocked. He peers inside the room. They are living quarters filled with a bed, a desk, a closet, and a dedicated washroom.
All the rooms on this level mirror such a layout. There aren’t any belongings, weapons, or other items which reveal the former presence of people. The ship appears deserted or abandoned. After revolving around the ground floor, the smaller group ascends to the level above. The rooms and layout are identical, but one suite reveals a secret.
A book is found lying atop a desk. Silver opens it and flips through its pages, but only the first one is legible. It belonged to a girl named MaryAnn. She explains that she and her family are passengers aboard the ship: the Bellows Diamond.
“This is a bad omen. Disaster befell this vessel. We should leave before whatever befell this vessel befalls us,” Paavu cryptically speaks.
“I agree with Paavu. Whatever stole this ship and carried it here is powerful, and we are outmatched,” speaks Flare.
“No! We cannot leave yet! People will accuse us of being liars! We need to learn more and collect proof of our visit!” Silver passionately objects.
“What do you propose we do Silver?” intently questions Dungrin.
“Let us find the highest room in this metal maze. Perhaps it is like the watch post of a tower where the sailors of this ship spent the most hours,” counters Silver.
“Well, if we are going to find anything, it will be in a place like that,” reluctantly relents Flare.
“Then let us find this high point, and be quick about it. The longer we spend here, the longer we are in danger,” firmly insists Paavu.
“Very well. I will relay this plan to the rest and warn them to be careful,” declares Dungrin as he speaks his native tongue, causing the sending stone to glow.
Meanwhile, the larger group travels down into the aft hold of the ship. There is only darkness down in the cold, steel compartments. Stripes lights a torch to provide light and warmth. There are as many levels below deck as there seemed to be above it. At the bottom, Elora finds what she is seeking.
Four large furnaces are connected by pipes and gadgets to gigantic tubes of steel. Huge piles of wood and an unusual black rock lay strew about besides the boilers. She deduces that the wood and black rocks create heat and steam to power the enormous metal cylinders. This information interests the rest of the group.
The party continues searching through the rooms nearby the heaters and discovers a cargo hold. It is filled with crates. Some crates are stacked one atop the other and reach the ceiling. Others are lonely and already open. Medrash peers inside one of the breached boxes, discovering strange garments. More findings include mundane caches of wood and food stores to art pieces and jewelry. A veritable grand bazaar of common, exotic, and alien goods.
Elora begins helping himself to the strange wares, but Merric renounces her for stealing. She argues that they can make a profit from these items, and he accuses her of selfishly disrespecting the dead. Stripes intervenes, saying they can find the place again if needed and should not be loaded down for the trip back. This sentiment is shared by the other two members. Out of the corner of her eye, Lydelphi notices a robed figure watching from around a bulkhead. She brings attention to the specter. When she does, the cloak flees.
“Let’s chase after it and hunt it down!” eagerly roars Medrash.
“What?! Why? It could be a trap!” nervously counters Merric.
“If there are more foes, then we will cut them down too,” confidently boasts Lydelphi.
“Or this could be a chance to uncover more secrets about the ship,” enthusiastically suggests Elora.
“We will keep our wits about us Merric. I will speak to Dungrin and tell him about our pursuit,” mediated Stripes as her sending stone energizes.
Back above the ship, the smaller group makes headway toward the top. At the building’s amidships portion, they encounter more stairs guiding them to the top room. It is a command or lookout post, providing a panoramic view of the surrounding landscape. All strange manner of devices and metal desks and boxes are aligned in neat rows and blocks throughout the room. At the fore is a grand wheel.
Near the wheel is a wooden case strangely unaffected by decay and winter elements. Paavu opens it and finds a logbook. The inside cover denotes its former owner as Captain Peter Novonty. The book issues a dire warning to anyone who may be reading it: fear for your life and flee the ship immediately.
Paavu skims the pages, reading important sections aloud. The Bellows Diamond was a cargo and passenger ship. The Diamond’s voyage started easily and pleasantly. Trouble soon reared its head in the person of junior officer C. D. LeRoux. LeRoux began acting above his station, becoming belligerent and subordinate. Disciplinary actions had little effect to temper his behavior. They emboldened it.
On the eve of a big storm, LeRoux and a gang of traitors broke free from their detention and staged a mutiny. Low-level officers and crew were either killed or taken prisoner. As many senior officers as possible were captured alive and forced to witness an unbelievable, horrible, eldritch spectacle. Whatever unimaginable sight or event occurred was not recorded in the logbook.
“Have we sated your curiosity Silver?” questioned Flare, already anticipating the answer.
“Completely Flare,” murmured Silver, deeply stunned in her imagination.
“The fate of this alien vessel was forged by a madman or a mad god. Whichever it was, let us not meet it,” Paavu discerned.
“We are leaving this ship, and we are not coming back!” furiously declared Dungrin as the sending stone brightened again.
Meanwhile, the group down below in the hold pursued the robed figure. It led them forward more and more. The destination was a gallery just underneath the main deck. This room starkly contrasted the claustrophobic holds they previously explored. The ceiling’s height must have been 20 or 25 feet. The chamber widened as the group moved away from the entrance akin to an open paper fan.
The chamber’s illumination was provided by wickless candles within glass vases. Partially filled bookshelves and a desk cloister around the doorway and the close by walls. They give the impression of this room being a scholar’s study. The far end provides a large glass window secured to the metal hull. It looks outwards over the overcast landscape of the Sea of Moving Ice and the Icewind Dale.
Beneath the window sit six robed figures cloistered around a ritual circle of some kind. The seventh flees to join them as Lydelphi breaks off the chase and strides over to the desk. She retrieves a journal belonging to a man known as C. D. LeRoux. A minor officer aboard the Bellows Diamond, he uncovered a statue bedazzled with jewels and stones. At first, he coveted the piece for its value, but more devious powers would be revealed.
The statue began talking to him in his mind. It encouraged him to be bold, to rise against the current hierarchy. It declared that he should be the ship’s captain, that he can guide all aboard to some fantastical place. This message reciprocated the desired behaviors. LeRoux began acting out against the captain. Rebukes would not temper his desire to lead.
He shared his finding with the dissatisfied and disenfranchised crewmembers. Their ranks swelled to a considerable amount. The statue began giving directions to create a ritual circle. It would allow for better guidance. LeRoux obsessed over the statue and its teachings. He desired power, to lead people to this magical land, and to rule over them once they arrived.
Soon, the ritual night arrived. LeRoux and his followers had been imprisoned in the holds of the ship. They escaped their confines and mutinied. The mastermind himself meditated on the circle one last time for instructions. The unseen power assured him the plan would succeed. He sallied forth above decks into a mighty and fierce gale. Presenting the statue high, he recited an arcane song, and a gigantic portal appeared. Lydelphi did not need to continue reading the personal tome.
“What insanity befall this boat and all those aboard it?” she muses fearfully.
“We have discovered a haunted tragedy and become the next victims,” Dread overcame Stripes as these words left her lips.
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know any more about this ship. Let’s sink it to the bottom of the bay!” Elora’s voice quivered with horror.
“We need to rejoin with the others, or at least try to hide. But where?” asked Medrash, trying to remain staunch and steadfast.
“Anywhere but here with these bodaks!” shrieked Merric as the seven hooded figures now turned in unison towards the group, revealing their true undead nature.
At this juncture, the sending stones alighted. The voices of Paavu and Durgrin were filled with concern, urging them to gather on the main deck. The undead began advancing on the group sharing the room with them. The adventurers retreated from the gallery, found a staircase midship, and thundered upwards, not attempting to be silent.
The full party was now reunited, all gathered on the large and undisturbed bow of the ship. There were only a few precious moments to exchange information. All understood the gravity of their predicament and agreed that escape was the wisest course of action. Medrash felt compelled to survey the Bellows Diamond one last time. Something caught his attention, and he raised an alarm to his fellow party members.
Perhaps panic clouded their minds, or maybe it was hiding in wait. A huge creature rested upon a hill of snow that poured over the bow. It postured as a regent sitting on a throne, waiting for feeble peasants to approach it. The face was humanoid but lacked most distinguishing features like a nose or cheeks. A pair of horns extended from the skull and a pair of light blue eyes contrasted against the hue of its body.
The body was a deep black, complementing the now dark sky above Blackpyre Bay. It rose to its full height of 25 feet, haughtily displaying its lean muscular physique. Four slender, dagger-like claw fingers flexed on each hand. The creature’s feet and ankles were cloven like a horse or donkey. The party stood either braced or dumbfounded at the sight.
Paavu’s divine senses warned the creature to be undead. Medrash didn’t care. His rage ignited and with great fury, he hurled himself against the beast with his mighty great sword. The creature was not difficult to hit, but it absorbed the damage with no thought given to the attacker. More of the party joined in the attack, but the creature would not yield easily.
Shortly after combat started, the bodaks emerged from below decks to join their master in the fight. The battle, which held the chance of being victorious, now became desperate. Medrash, Dungrin, Paavu, and Flare attack the large creature. The others focus on the underlings. Merric channels his divine power and drives some of them away. Lydelphi fells another with a surprise strike.
More spells are cast. More blades and arrows strike and embed into their targets, yet it is a losing battle. Numbers are against the party. The huge creature’s undeathly nature prevents the use of healing magic and potions. The wizard falls first, followed by the artificer.
“Stripes! Run! Run and don’t look back!” bellows Dungrin as he buries his weapon into the creature again.
Stripes’ heart saddens at the thought of running away. She would rather die with them than abandon her friends. But she knows that it must be done if only to serve as a warning for other adventurers. She quickly steals something from the fallen wizard to help her flight. Then leaps over the side of the Bellows Diamond.
The snow surrounding the boat cushions her fall. The ranger staggers to her feet, casts a spell to make herself swift, and flees back towards the shoreline of the bay. She makes 120 feet before turning back to watch the carnage. The only people she can see still standing are Paavu, Medrash, and Dungrin.
“Keep running Stripes! Warn others about this place! Dissuade as many people as you can from coming here!” Paavu’s voice hoarsely rings out across the barren, windswept snowscape.
Stripes winces. Regret burrows into her soul, but she obeys. Her flight across the ice continues until she makes landfall. The ranger pauses, dwelling on what has transpired, then steels herself for the journey back. Her battle against the creatures and the vessel is over. Now she must fight against the elements. The arrival trek was difficult even with everyone helping. The trinket will help, but survival is far from assured.
In this small patch of the Icewind Dale, Auril must cede some of her territory. The Cold Goddess, one of the four of fury, dislikes others encroaching on her domain. But against this force, she relents. Something far greater and darker has chosen this place for its designs, plans, and machinations. She is powerless to stop its hold on her lands, yet it is content to remain here in Blackpyre Bay. For now.
James Meyer 