Mist twined with the stone spires of Phithia's harbor, dampening the chime of chains as ships organized to depart. It was bustling with people, a group of orcs unloading barrels and cargo from ships, the sound of bells ringing throughout in patterns, and faint laughter coming from sailors. The air was mixed with a cool breeze that carried the unmistakable scent of saltwater, fish, and tar. Above, the sun's rays were barely able to cut through the early, foggy morning of the harbor. Children made their way to the harbor to play, and meanwhile, the rest of the families came down with baskets in hand, stepping onto the wooden flooring and trailing by merchant stalls that sold fishing equipment and live bait. A batch of men grunted, lifting a hefty, flopping shark. Its body was wrapped in black ropes to restrain it for easier handling.
"Who the hell eats a shark for breakfast!" A man said while watching the struggling men try to carry the shark to a crude, wooden, gigantic tank of water, the corners and cracks of which were reinforced by metal.
"Who do ya think?" One of the laboring men replied. They managed to safely preserve the shark within the tank, the shark that was once in a frenzy, assumed to be in a familiar environment. Still, it knew something was off, randomly thrashing headfirst into the walls of its temporary home, water sploshing out from the brim, circling for the freedom that it once felt. Workers were constantly dumping it with fresh seawater from the harbor. A brazen woman with medium-short brown hair stepped forward, a razor-sharp cutlass holstered on her right hip, her pants and shirt littered with scuffs, scrapes, and cuts, and an eyepatch over her left eye. Along the blade of her cutlass were strange runes that were engraved into the very steel.
"Move your asses, if the shark dies, that's less coin in your pockets!" She shouted at them, crossing her arms. The men stiffened for a moment, brains scattering, and the speed at which the men maneuvered increased dramatically. A young man approached her from behind. He was in his late teens and had softer features in contrast to the woman; his face was soft, his body almost as slender as a bone, his hair disheveled, his clothes too big, sleeves rolled up awkwardly, and his posture unsteady and fidgety.
"Captain, we've got one more ship coming in with the goods and chattels. What should we do?" He questioned while tugging at his shirt collar.
"Tell them to dock, we'll deal with it tonight." She said. The young man nodded before jogging off towards the far end of the harbor. A towering orc in armor made his way over to the wooden tank, where the shark was being held.
"Move along, ants." He said, before scooping the wooden tank off the ground, and taking steps towards the eyepatched woman.
"Don't be a dunce, now, would you?" She responded to him as he approached her.
"Aye, aye, captain." The orc vocalized in a lower tone than he did with the workers. Amongst the masses of people was a hooded figure in a black, worn-down cloak, their face hard to make out as they cut through the bustling harbor. Even though she only had one good eye, the woman could never mistake an unfamiliar presence. She glanced several times until they vanished into another throng of people, which caused her brow to furrow.
"Sneaky bastard." She uttered to herself. The young man was jogging back towards her, out of breath.
"Captain, they want their pay upfront." The young man breathlessly said.
"Ben, you said you wanted to move up the ladder, yeah?" She asked.
"Yes, ma'am!" Ben eagerly responded, his breathing beginning to even out.
"There's someone in a black cloak roaming; it could be one of the cultists, but I doubt any of them have the balls to chant their Moon Leviathan rubbish while I'm around." She said with conviction.
"A-... Are you asking me to get rid of them?" Ben stuttered out.
"No, you're like a babe in the woods. Just tail them and make sure they're not up to anything. I'll send backup to assist, and I'll come to find you shortly. Hang in there." She patted Ben on the shoulder before walking away and pushing through the crowds of people.
"Alright, I just got to follow some cloaked oddity, how hard could that be?" Ben recited to himself as he walked through the harbor, searching for any sight of the cloaked individual. For several minutes, he searched and looked, unable to find any sign of them. Ben walked towards an elderly woman's stall, which sold fishing bait. "Hey, Nana! Have you seen someone wandering around the harbor in a cloak? Captain Zahari wants me to keep an eye on them." Ben explained.
"Dear, they left a long while ago. Looks like they were heading for the markets." Nana replied.
"Okay, thanks!" Ben said.
He ran towards the exit of the harbor, his boots clacking hard up against the creaking planks. Ben reached a flight of wooden stairs that trailed uphill. After rushing up the stairs, he arrived on the large cobblestone streets of Phithia's marketplace, established by vendors selling freshly cooked fish, displaying massive sealife catches, strange-looking fruits, and vegetables in basket stands.
In the far distance, he could see the cloaked figure strolling through. Ben took initiative, blending in with the surge of the chaotic crowd, and continued to follow the cloaked figure.
"What're you up to…?" Ben muttered to himself, concentrating on where the figure was going, inching in closer and breaking down the distance steadily. The hooded figure stopped walking and glanced back for a brief moment, a soft golden glimmer coming from under the darkness of their hood. Ben froze in place, alarmed, and too frightened to take another step forward, his heart beating intensely, and his mind stuck on the sight of the golden shimmer from underneath the wanderer's hood. The wanderer faced forward again, walking and turning down a passage. Ben followed, and with every step, he was drawn in deeper, unaware of the isolation he found himself in. The eerily spacious passage overshadowed the smells and surroundings he'd grown accustomed to.
"Shit, where the hell am I?" A rat ran across his foot, and he shrieked, staggering to the ground, landing on his rear. "C'mon, Ben… A rat?" He said to himself.
Before he could stand, Ben was hurled across the ground by a mighty kick. He yelped out from the stinging impact of it, tumbling back before stopping on his shoulder. Ben's gaze snapped onto the hooded figure standing before him at a distance. Ben pushed himself off the ground, stumbling whilst trying to stand upright.
"Why are you following me?" It was a male voice; they spoke softly, and it was hard to tell if any real malice was behind their words. "Why am I following you? Why, and how the hell did you kick me so hard?!" Ben exclaimed, fluttering his arms. "It's nothing personal… Just trying to keep myself safe." The hooded male replied, pulling the cloak's hood down tighter over their features.
"I ask, you answer… Why were you following me?" The male's voice sharpened like fangs.
"My captain asked me to; she thinks that you could be a possible threat to Phithia," Ben answered.
"Huh, so that's what this place is called?" They uttered.
"Hey, this is just my advice to you, okay? You should get going while you can; I might be a pushover, but Captain Zahari hasn't a single bone of weakness in her." Ben proudly stated.
"I didn't intend, or think any of this was going to happen. I was just passing through." He said.
A heavy set of footsteps was approaching them, and the hooded male turned his head to face the sound. A tall, muscular orc with his body covered in armor was charging headstrong towards him, a giant club wielded over his shoulder. "OI' LEAVE OUR MESSENGER BOY ALONE, WOULD YEW!" The orc shouted before swinging the club towards the hooded male. A growl came from him, entering a stance to block the strike. In the process, he was sent skidding back along the cobblestone street. Whilst traveling back, he clamped his bare fingers into the ground while crouching, halting his momentum until he stopped completely, smoke steaming up from his claw-like retreat.
"A tough cookie this one." The orc remarked before looking at Ben, who was grinning.
"Bulgar, you found me!" Ben said.
"Heh, how could anyone mistake your womanly smell?" Bulgar replied, swinging his club back over his shoulder, staring at the hooded man.
"Odd to see that you've nearly reached the blackwaters," Bulgar said.
"Didn't realize… But now we've got a bigger problem on our hands. That man says he didn't intend for any of this to happen… What do we do, let him go?" Ben asks.
"No, we keep 'im right here until cap' arrives," Bulgar says, slamming his club into the ground. Ben was startled by the weight of the club hitting the ground nearby. The hooded man was still crouched; his line of sight was focused on Bulgar. He rose, steam curling around his right hand until he swiftly shook it off, a golden light briefly piercing out from under the hood.