Prologue:
For nearly a millennium, the Skarnoth Empire had prospered. Rising humbly from the Vergessenna River valley, over the centuries the small city state had expanded by leaps and bounds, and eventually had gained power, wealth and prosperity that was unrivaled in all of the world during the time of legends. At its peak, Skarnoth ruled territory that stretched from the icy capes of Thullea clear to the Dellanean peninsula far to the south, and held the lands eastward over the barrier peaks clear to the Evoan Sea in tribute.
For the first few hundred years, as their wealth and power expanded, Skarnoth was at peace, and both the citizens and their subject peoples were content and happy. Although they fought wars of expansion and conquest, once the neighboring realms were subjugated, their world remained peaceful, for the most part. The empire allowed the citizens ample personal liberty, while the new subjects also enjoyed the benefits of membership under the aegis of the growing empire: greater access to technology which improved their lives, greater health, more efficient farming techniques, better infrastructure and greater prosperity overall.
For it was their superior technology which allowed the empire to expand so quickly and rule so effectively. At a time in human history where most of the world basked in stone-age or at least pre-industrial bronze or iron- age technology, Skarnoth developed marvelous machines that were the awe and envy of the ancient world. Broad, perfectly straight roads that ran for hundreds of miles. Carriages that powered themselves. Machines that harnessed the very power of lightning to run themselves. Machines that spun clothing faster than any loom ever could, mills that created woodwork faster than any that existed, goods spun out of materials that all knowledge of has been forgotten. Marvelous adding and counting machines. Devices that could scribe faster, and with script more perfect than any human scribe. And fierce weapons that neither sword nor arrow could stand against. It would be nearly four thousand years after the downfall of Skarnoth that the world would again would see such wonders. Or as the case may be; be troubled by them. For the legends of these wonders persisted in the ancient world throughout the ensuing millennia, in whispered stories and legends, even if the people who had produced them had long been forgotten.
The legends said that somehow, their technology, by the very nature it's marvelous power, had somehow tapped into something dark, something that had set off a cataclysm that had let in the sea, burying the marvels of that age under the silent deeps of the ocean.
Nearly four thousand years later, the very memories of Skarnoth, Vergessenna, and Eboanacum- the great fortresses, towers, gardens, palaces, and cities; of princesses and kings, proud, cruel and beautiful, have been obliterated from human consciousness. The very names have long passed out of memory into legend, and then, out of legend and into the black recesses of forgotten human history. Only sometimes, when the winds and the tides are just right, and the upwelling currents stir up long-dead memories from the ocean bottom, they do not rest easily.
Ch.1.
Wilfred Aeddenswic ambled down the street, taking in the spring-scented morning air, his mind buzzing, his animal senses heightened. It was going to be a good day- he had the day off, everything seemed to be going well, and he was in a good mood. He sauntered into the Geldkerke Café at the end of the block. Behind the counter, a gangly looking early 20- something male with longish stringy sandy blonde hair and a wispy goatee was serving up a plate of hash browns and eggs for one of the habitual regular customers- a rather non-descript elderly couple who came in there nearly every other day. They were seated at the bar, and looked at Wilf coolly as he passed.
"Oh morning Mr. Fredrickson."
The man, a long-retired former lumber mill shift manager, simply grunted and looked away, almost as if to say, shuddup and quit bugging me, damn young hippie punk slacker.
"Henk!" Wilf called over the counter. The sandy haired, goateed cook looked up and grinned.
"What time you get off work, ay?" Wilf asked. Henk was working the morning shift cooking at the small café that served as the center of activity, such as it was, in Aelffyrgend, the small coastal community where Wilf, Henk, and maybe two or three hundred other people called home.
"Aw fuck, man...Just after the lunch rush, I guess. Had a few of the usual old buggers in here, talking about the weather and shit. Maybe Shettel will let me off early or something and we could go down to the beach or something."
"Sounds cool. Something to do I guess. Not much else going on here then. Less you wanna get beers and see if Fredda and Engeline wanna hang out later?" Wilf asked.
Henk shrugged. Engeline was digging on some new guy, some rather creepy older yuppie-ish fellow who had taken a liking to her, and probably wouldn't be into hanging out. Fredda was probably working, and wouldn't get home till much later. Not like much else ever happened here. Aelffyrgend was rather isolated. A long, bumpy road separated it from the larger towns further inland, and the geography- the jagged, broken Norsland coastline sectionalized by countless bays, fiords and inlets- didn't help matters. In this part of the country, a boat served you better for long-distance transportation than a car- assuming the seas were calm enough or the weather was actually clear enough for travel. Which all too often was not the case, and the long, winding, mountain road that connected Aelffyrgend to Asa Bae Haetorr and Saepsbeorg was the only outlet to the more urbanized (relatively speaking) communities within reasonable distance.
"Yeah, I dunno man, maybe after I finish up after lunch, stop back by and we'll go do something, maybe go fishing or go to the beach or something" Henk replied.
"Allright man, sounds good."
With time to kill, Wilf shuffled down the one block long commercial strip that served as the community's main street. Aelffyrgend was a rather sprawling community, with a series of winding roads that wandered through the hilly spruce and ponderosa pine forest that covered this mountainous peninsula. The community, though small in population, covered a large, ill-defined area with only this one strip looking like anything resembling a town. It was also not, strictly speaking, right on the coast, but rather, up in the hills, tucked into a basin that overlooked the Helfryd river fiord to the west and the Gulf of Ivinnia to the south. Two main roads led from the town in the hills to the coastlines a few miles below, one to the south and another to the west, where two tiny harbors near the end of each road had room for perhaps a couple dozen small boats apiece.
