Chapter 3: Meeting The Natives

The seas are calm this morning, and you make good time. The raft manages to hold, and whatever monstrosities Moss had seen during his captivity do not trouble your journey.

As you approach the island and the village, you can make out a lot more detail. The village sits atop a low, rocky cliff and straddles either side of a river and sits at the foot of a mighty waterfall. Distinctive wooden buildings with thatched roofs face inward toward the water, and scarlet red lanterns hang from every structure. Bridges criss-cross the water way connecting the two halves of the village.

On the rocky shore at the base of the village, defenses have been erected. Tall, wooden watchtowers with arrow slits overlook the rocky shore, and large wooden beams jut out of the water making a dangerous maze for medium to large size ships to reach the shore.

Despite the level of defensive preparations, you see people going about their lives in brightly coloured costumes. Farmers are tilling fields, fishermen are laying nets in the river, and pockets of children play in the fields. However, when you are about a mile off shore, you sense that the village has spotted you. Warriors with spears and shields begin assembling at the top of the cliffs, and a figure in black stands atop a hill overseeing their movements.

You cross the remaining distance in good time, your little raft proving itself more sturdy than it looks. You arrive at the shore under the careful watch of the villagers gathered at the top of the cliff 50 feet above your heads. One of them, a woman, calls down to you. She wears the same colourful garments as the rest of her tribe but she carries herself like sailor. You cannot understand her words, and when that becomes obvious, she tries again, and then again, each time making a different set of sounds. On her forth try, she speaks in broken Low Atlantean:

"Strangers! I can smell you from my cliff! What the fuck actually?"