IABD 43: Dagger Rock

“Good, there is enough mist about to let us land in secret.” Polla watched the mural change before her. “Better that we land unseen. Dagger Rock is a place where you don’t want the wrong kind of attention.”

Matthias kept his eyes on the murals; grey mist swirled in all of them, as thick as soup. He couldn’t see an inch around the carriage, yet he was not concerned.

Something about the fog reminded him of The Realm in Dream. In many ways, he felt at home, though some of the others obviously did not.

Brenner looked a little wild around the eyes: “How can you see in this? Won’t we crash?”

“Do not doubt Mistress Polla,” Ellian’s small voice said with confidence. “The air whispers to her and guides the carriage. We are as safe as—Bang!” he suddenly cried.

Half the passengers jumped.

The boy giggled. “You should see your faces.”

Dagma glared at him. “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Enough, Ellian,” Polla said without turning. “You are all quite safe. As a matter of fact—”

The carriage lurched, coming to a smooth stop.

“—we have arrived at our destination and will part from each other for now. Open.”

The door opened to a swirling world of mist.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Bregindoure asked her.

“No, I will be visiting an old friend outside the city, I will meet you here when your business is done. How long will you need?”

Beggahasta grabbed the pack filled with the demonic beast’s harvested parts and hung it on her shoulder. “We should be finished by nightfall.”

“Won’t we be staying the night?” Matthias asked.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to stay here: the last inn I stayed at in Dagger Rock was roughly one third wood, one third cockroach and one third cockroach droppings.” Beggahasta grimaced.

“She’s only partly exaggerating. In Dagger Rock, unless you pay a king’s ransom to stay in the upper levels just below The Blade, you’ll be sharing a bed with roaches and rats,” Kamaria muttered.

“That’s a good point. So, I shall meet you and your family here come moonrise,” Polla said. “Dagger Rock is only a short walk down the beach to the south. Which is that way—” She pointed them in the right direction. “Happy selling, Beggahasta. Good luck, to you and your family and—” She turned toward the sellswords. “—it was a pleasure doing business with you, give my regards to your captain.”

“Will do,” Rolm said.

One by one, the Stonebreakers and the mercenaries filed out of the carriage and onto the beach. The first thing that struck Matthias was the mist: it was hiding most of their surroundings, keeping much of it from view, and there was a salty tang to the air that he could taste, something he’d never experienced before.

“I’ve heard it said that the ocean is salty, it seems that it’s true,” he murmured as the carriage door closed, the carriage rose in the mist, disappearing above them.

“I’ve read about the ocean in different books, but I couldn’t imagine so much salt water in one place,” Bregindoure marveled at the scents and sounds. “You hear that crash? That must be the sound waves make.”

Dagma scuttled down the rocky shore toward the sound. No sooner had she reached the shoreline, than a massive wave struck, showering her in salty water, she squealed, jumping back. Her grinning brothers nodded to one another, then rushed down the rock, picking her up by either arm and dangling her over the ocean. 

She started laughing giddily, kicking her legs above the water.

Behind them, Beggahasta smiled, saying nothing.

Kamaria cleared her throat from where she stood with the other sellswords. “Well, this is where we part ways. It has been a short, but pleasant journey together.”

“It was,” Beggahasta said. “May your ancestors and the Ascended protect you. May Sarnici guide your ship to friendly shores.”

Rolm grunted.

“That’s ‘Rolm-speak’ for thanks,” Big Stan clapped the man on the side. “Right, our ship’ll be meeting us in a cove to the north. Captain’s not exactly welcome in Dagger Rock.”

“Why would that be?” Beggahasta asked.

“Y’know, on account of the piracy and all.” Big Stan shrugged.

“Ah. That would do it.”

“Farewell!” Matthias called as he and Bregindoure waved goodbye to the sellswords. Dagma tried to wave as well, but at the moment, she was dangling from her two arms, so all she could do was wiggle in a strange ‘waving’ motion.

The sellswords saluted, marching north into the mist.

“Sounds exciting.” Bregindoure watched them disappear. “Life on the sea and all: can’t be freer than that.”

“Try living out of a longship for six months then tell me that,” Beggahasta grumbled. “Come, if we are going to get our task done by moonrise we need to move.”

After the brothers put Dagma down—barely resisting the urge to dip her in the ocean, though they did threaten her with it, repeatedly—the Stonebreaker family headed for Dagger Rock.

Along the way, the mist began to clear, burning away as the morning sun grew brighter, and the sea wind blew it further inland.

Beggahasta cautioned her children. “I know it’s exciting seeing the sea for the first time, but I want you all to keep your wits about you. Dagger Rock is a place where legitimate business is done, but it's also where unscrupulous merchants buy goods from thieves, scoundrels ply any number of nasty trades, and thugs would love to take advantage of a family like ours. I trust us to be able to handle ourselves, but I don’t want you to lose your wits. Pay attention to those around you, alright?”

“I promise I’ll protect us.” Matthias said. 

“No, I’ll protect us,” Bregindoure added.

“No, I’ll protect all of us!” Dagma gripped her dagger.

Beggahasta watched her children with fierce pride. “I know you will. Now look ahead, the mist is clearing.”

They climbed a hill up the beach, the fog quickly thinning around them.

And as they crested the hill, Matthias froze. “What?”

“You see that?” Bregindoure whispered.

“I can’t believe it.” Dagma’s eyes were wide.

Two great, sea-birthed mountains soared from the crashing surf, carved directly into their sides were the two halves of the city of Dagger Rock, linked together by bridges of wood and stone. Smoke drifted from chimney tops and tiny ant-like dots were moving through streets that wound around the mountains’ perimeters.

Both peaks were massive, as was the city: Matthias had never seen so many buildings in his young life, and yet that was not what caught his eye the most.

It was the dagger.

A titanic blade that dwarfed the enormous skull that made up Sur Friya’s training grounds had impaled one of the mountains through its peak. The blade was likely hundreds of feet across and thousands high, with a hilt that rose to a dizzying height into the sky.

Its pommel had been converted to a lighthouse, shining a burning radiance out to sea.

“What…what could wield something like that?” Matthias gasped.

“No one knows,” Beggahasta said. “Only that it has been here longer than anything alive…or anything alive that they know of. Come on, we can see it from closer. They should be opening the gates soon.”

###

Matthias craned his neck as the Stonebreaker family walked the streets of Dagger Rock, peeking at the silvery blade between the buildings. Not a trace of rust touched it, despite the salty sea air around it.

“Matt, pay attention, what did I tell you?” his mother said from up ahead.

Shaking himself, the young greatfolk turned his eyes back to the road and the lesser wonders around him.

He had never seen a city before and could not judge this one against any other. What he could say, though, was that this place reminded him of an ants’ nest. Stone buildings from countless ages were crammed along the sides of the streets like vultures clustered on the same branch, watching a potential meal. The scent of cooking food, foul smelling refuse, ocean spray, and fish wafted through the air.

It was mostly foul-smelling refuse and fish that he was noticing, Matthias’ nostrils were very unhappy at the moment.

Clotheslines, hanging high, crisscrossed the streets while—below—dozens of different peoples walked through the morning mist, crammed together, making their way along the cobblestones.

Most were human, of Evalmeran stock: tall, light or dark haired, and mostly powerfully built. There were other groups as well: folks dressed in a range of different styled clothing, chatting with one another in a multitude of different languages.

Then there were the nonhumans.

Beastfolk of various kinds; from towering Elk-kin, and moosefolk, to short, stubby badger folk huddled in tight groups, eyeing their surroundings and sniffing the air. Wiry, small, bodied gloamings—humanoid, sharp-toothed and sharp clawed, who were covered in quills rather than hair—were gathered in packs and were dressed in animal pelts. They carried kills from the Wolfwood.

The sea dwarves—aecorum, they called themselves—with their metallic, shining skin and slightly webbed fingers, drove along in carts of hand moulded, shining metal, speaking an oceanic tongue with their selachar companions. The selachar looked similar to humans, except for the silver-grey cast to their skin, eyes that were solid-black, and gill-slits that framed their necks.

“What a wondrous place,” Bregindoure said, towering above most everyone on the street. Between him and his younger brother, and even their towering mother, most folk quickly moved out of their way, allowing them to move, unobstructed, through the crowd. Those that caught sight of his runes gasped, scurrying away as though they were being approached by a firestorm.

He pointedly ignored them. “Wait, mother, look there. Are those elves?”

“Where?” Matthias whispered, his eyes darting over the street.

Then he spotted them.

Their mother nodded. “That they are,” she said, her voice low.

What struck Matthias first was how pale they were: their skin was lacking natural colouration, and had no hair on it. Both males and females were bald, with neither a trace of eyebrows, eyelashes or any hint of facial hair.

Many had body art in different colours and shapes inked across their scalps, images drawn with jagged, ferocious lines. The elves were taller than most humans walking along the street, their ears were pointed like spear tips.

Matthias casually took in their eyes, gold with red flecks speckled throughout them. Those eyes never bothered to stray from what was ahead of them, remaining fixed and focused as each elf moved forward like water flowing down the street.

There was something…wrong about them, something that disturbed Matthias down to the core, setting the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

He remembered what Polla had said to him: about being death-touched, and that the elves were immortal by some unnatural magic.

Maybe there was something to that.

Something to bring up to her when he talked to her about that feeling of being watched in his dreams.

As they passed the elves, the smells in the air began to change. Fish and trash gave way to the inviting aroma of spices and perfumes; the chatter of the crowd changed to the shouts and cries of merchants calling out to passersby.

The Stonebreaker family left the street, entering a large square: the sides of the mountains were carved into stone terraces, preventing the entire city from resting on the steep incline of its slopes. Each terrace was dotted by several squares that served as meeting places, crossroads, and markets.

“Whoa, look at that!” Dagma cried.

Colourful stalls and storefronts stood in the dissipating fog, merchants from across the north buying, selling and trading frantically. Hunters carrying demonic beast corpses or strange artefacts haggled furiously with merchants surrounded by heavily armed guards glaring into the crowds. Monster parts, weapons, potions, poultices, clothing, and armour were all on display.

Tiny creatures—most Matthias could not name—rattled about in cages: some insectile, some furry and many with glowing eyes or wings. 

In the centre of the square, a tubby selachar merchant auctioned off a freshly caught kraken-shark hanging from a sturdy hook. Its sharp fangs gleamed, and its tentacles dripped a viscous fluid, as more than a dozen alchemists, apothecaries and adventurers bid on the creature.

“There’s much to see,” Matthias remarked.

“And so many people to talk to.” Beggahasta clutched her coin-purse. “I’m going to go from stall to stall and see who will offer us the best price. If today is anything like it was when I was last here, this could take quite some time. Be careful, there are cutpurses everywhere.”

Matthias kept his hand on both his dagger and coin purse as he followed her. To his left, Dagma openly gawked at their surroundings, while Bregindoure stroked his moustache like an elderly scholar examining a fascinating text.

“What is that street?” The eldest of the siblings pointed.

Matthias followed his brother’s gaze then stopped in place.

A side street, off to the right—a broad alley leading to the next thoroughfare—was filled with merchant stalls, but towering above those, were dozens of strangely shaped structures covered in charms and talismans.

It took Matthias a moment to realise what they were.

Shrines.

Dozens of shrines dedicated to dozens of deities, and though he recognised some as part of the Pantheon of the Ascended, there were many he could not put a name to.

His heart jumped with excitement.

“Mother, I’m going down that street!” He pointed. Perhaps one of those shrines could provide a hint as to which deities he cultivated. “I’ll be back!”

“I’m coming with you!” Dagma said.

“I’d rather you stayed with me.” Beggahasta peered down the street. “We can look at them later.”

“You said you have to talk to a lot of merchants, right?” Matthias asked. “I’ve seen you haggle with the ones who visit Barrowgate: if we wait for you, mother, we could miss our chance to see the shrines before moonrise.”

“Yes, that’s true, please, mother!” Dagma looked at Beggahasta with very wide, very pleading eyes.

“If they go, I’ll go with them and watch their backs,” Bregindoure promised. “And I am curious about those shrines myself.”

Beggahasta pondered the idea before giving in. “Fine. It’s true that neither of you boys are defenseless children...and if I think about it, neither is Dagma. But you must look out for each other. Don’t let anyone accost you, and if you run into anything too dangerous, call me.”

“We will!” Matthias promised. “Breg, Dagma, let’s go!”

The three Stonebreaker siblings eagerly pushed through the crowd and the mist—clutching their coin purses tightly—they stepped onto the street. Matthias felt a change of atmosphere: while merchants still called from their stalls and storefronts, an air of reverence hung in the air around them.

Everything was quieter, and the city smells were now replaced with the scent of burning holy oils and incense. Dozens of shrines stood along both sides of the road, with offerings piled at their bases; many of the merchant stalls sold charms, oils and pendants, providing those very offerings.

“Holy charms,” a tall, skinny man called, meeting Matthias’ eyes; his stall was covered in hundreds of talismans. “Only five coppers and you’re guaranteed to catch the attention of any of the Ascended, don’t let your prayers go unheard.”

“Holy water, blessed in the name of the Demigoddess of Light and Dark,” said a white robed woman from the next stall. “Her holiness defends Frostland from corruption, but let her gentle duality guide you through any of life’s troubles.”

“Light and dark?” Matthias looked at the shrine rising beside the woman’s stall. It displayed the image of a woman carved from stone; her face hidden by a hood pulled low. One side of her robe was painted white, while the other was a deep black.

“Darkness...duality...” he whispered.

“Feel anything?” Dagma asked, her voice quiet.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Divine Breath tended to gather in places that mattered to a deity, such as their shrines, yet, he felt nothing from this Demigoddess of Light and Dark. He doubted she was the deity he cultivated.

Slowly, the Stonebreaker siblings moved on, pausing often to not only pay their respects at the shrines of different Ascended deities, but to examine those of demigods, and smaller pantheons.

Many of the shrines had at least one or two people in front of them, heads bowed in prayer. So still were these worshippers, that they seemed almost like ghosts rising from the fading mist.

“Agh, my boot’s come undone.” Bregindoure suddenly went down on one knee. Much of his bulk disappeared in the low fog. “Give me a second.”

“Alright.” Mathias stopped in front of the most ramshackle stall on the street.

Scraps of wood were pieced together, keeping the stall from collapsing, shoring it up as though it had been broken and repaired more times than the world had seen days. An old man manned the stall—his back bent—grinning at Matthias. Despite the wildness of his greying beard, his teeth were even, white and sparkling.

“Fancy a talisman?” The old man gestured to scores of amulets hanging from hooks on every bit of flat space along his stall. Most looked to be made of driftwood, pebbles and other cheap materials, but some had the sparkle of gems, set in gold or silver.

It was odd seeing such valuables in such a shabby stand; Matthias wondered if they were fake.

“Come on, come on, my boy.” The old man encouraged him to come closer. “You can get cheap talismans here, or expensive ones guaranteed to please any god or goddess, no matter who they are, even those that I don’t know the names of. Like the one those fine folk are praying to.”

He pointed to a couple praying at a shrine a little further away from him, it was smaller than any other shrine on the street. Matthias did not recognize the lantern symbol, nor the goddess carved into the wood.

“I think I’m fine over here.” The young greatfolk smiled at the man politely. “I’m just waiting for—”

“Hey, give that back, you thief!” Dagma cried from behind Matthias.

###

Author's Note

I gotta admit, I love markets in fantasy. They're literally one of my favourite set pieces, whether they be spice markets from sword and sorcery, magical markets from high fantasy or dangerous, criminal markets from dark fantasy.

It always makes my imagination spark, and it's a good opportunity to show off races, cultures and different other aspects of the setting. I really enjoy 'em, lol.

Also, in D&D it's a great opportunity for random encounters...

Cya tomorrow!