Port of Heranmar

The Town of Heranmar

Now that the latest Great Migration has occured, explorers have moved out to find out where Gateway Downs and Heranmar have winded up. Obviously it was somewhere along the coast of the Southern Continent, but just where? It took a few months to determine that the port of Heranmar is now on the northernmost tip of the entire Southern Continent!

   As such, Heranmar is the port of call when ships dock from the Northern Continent.  The original reception that the first group got when they landed was cold and xenophobic, but the selection of Heranmar as their base of operations has mellowed the townsfolk somewhat.  Currently, the town of Heranmar loves the CoC.  They became local heroes after they avenged the town following a mass murder perpetrated by some Anti-heroes.  It wasn't always that way, though.  The people of Heranmar, and most of the people in the Gateway Downs, tend to the wary and Xenophobic.  But let's take a walk around and I'll show you the town!
   There's a north gate and a south gate.  Though the town is walled, neither gate is normally barred.  The gate simply stands open, the road leading right up to it.  Right next to the south gate is the Guardhouse.  We keep it peaceful here and as long as you don't cause trouble, you can pretty much do what you want.
   Just beyond the Guardhouse is the INN at Heranmar. Old Chester runs the place, and that is the best spot for learning the local news and laying up your weary feet.
   The biggest building in the town is the old Quendeck Mansion, and is now the home and offices of the Town Council.  They run things on the inside of Heranmar, and the hired Protector group is in charge of what goes on outside a stones throw from the walls.  The Council has a head who is the Chief Guardsman, and members of every guild is allowed on the council with one at-large seat for the voice of the common Noble.
   Heranmar is mainly a seaside town, and we get most of our commerce by fishing, trading with sea-peoples, and the like.  There are plenty of farms around, and we've been getting a lot more trade caravans through here lately too.  All this bustle is causing an increase in home-grown industry like the dwarf brothers stone quarry just to the north of town.
   Heranmar has got a bloom of divine temples lately too.  There is the Grove of Peerimus just a thousand yards north of town for those who revere animals and trees.  At the Old Abbey, it used to be ruins, but a cleric from down by the Coastal Downs is rebuilding the place.  And of course there are the Crones own Standing Stones to the south of town.  You can often find a cleric of the Crones resting there and giving advice.
   Yep, we're a growing town, and with the Protector group close by, Heranmar is going to see a great many changes, you mark my words.

The Long Voyage

The following is the earliest known record of contact between the Northern and Southern Continents...

or The Three Hour Tour or Across the Wold in 80 Days

It was supposed to be a three hour trip to Dwarf Island, where the gold is. That was, in fact, becoming the name of the place: Dwarf Island Where The Gold Is. We, the three adventuring groups sharing this ship, should have realized that we were doomed from the start when the Bonze crossing with us spent the whole 1st hour in the aft of the boat praying to Donyra, Goddess of The Sea. Begging was more like it. We couldn't hear the words, but it was plain from his posture and tone that Donyra was not happy with him. But we all said it was just three hours to Dwarf Island Where The Gold Is. And nervously laughed our fears away.

After the first hour, The Bonze simply came forward and said, "I'm sorry," and strapped himself to the mast. A few seconds later, the storm came.

We helped where we could, tying things down, throwing things overboard. I don't know how long the storm lasted. It just lasted. Long after our strength ran out, it lasted. Long past our ability to care, it lasted. At the end of eternity, it ceased.

The Bonze was dead. So was many of the crew, passengers, and some of the adventurers from each respective group. Those of us that were left, perhaps were made of hardier stock, or simply were cursed. Only Donyra knows for sure. No one spoke much. We were too tired to plan anything. We all knew that the time for each of our deaths would come soon.

The resignation of this fate was in every face.

We floated. The priests created food and water, of course, but it was tasteless. We did what we could with the ship, and then resigned ourselves to boredom. Someone scratched marks in the rail each day at sunset after the storm.

On the forty-second day, our fate began to change.

First of all, we saw fish. Wonderful, glorious fish. Strange colorful fish. And dolphins. . . beautiful! The ship, though, was slowing and the wind dying.

Then we saw it. On the horizon. A slight difference in how the sky met the water. It was as if the water line was slowly reaching up to the sky and the sky was running from it. Before long the more intelligent of us had things figured out. We were pushing up a hill of water in the middle of the ocean. A giant, gentle hill of water, amazing!

As we rose, the view became intensified behind us. We could look back on the flat open expanses of water behind us. Lowering a torn sail as a net, we caught all the fish we could eat. Oh, it tasted good! After our feast, we felt a stillness, a ceasing of motion. A quick look confirmed that we had stopped part way up the hill of ocean. No waves. No wind.

Our spirits, though, had been restored by the fish and the view. Our mages quickly solved the problem, casting spells upon the dolphins and other creatures of the sea, bidding them to assist us. We felt a series of soft bumps and we were moving again, pushed by the creatures of the sea.

As the sun began to set, we reached the top of the mound of water.

We could see forever!!

Looking through a party cloudy sky from the height of the lowest of those clouds, we could see everything! Looking behind us, we saw the vast ocean. Beyond that, we saw Dwarf Island and The Shoreline of the Elennian Peninsula. Beyond that, we could see the Cataclysm Lands obscure and hidden by the power of the Gods of Wold. A reminder that Gods like to be worshipped and prefer not to be ignored, or ridiculed. Then to our amazement, we could see beyond all of that: a fine line touching a dark sky:we could see the edge of The Wold!!

Following this line, the horizon, to the west , the sun was too bright to make anything out except that never ending line of the horizon. Then as the sun reached that horizon, and us looking true west, we saw another land! A priest amongst us guessed aloud stating that we were actually looking at the Land of The Gods, where the Gods of Wold live and the dead reside.

Somehow it didn't seem out of place at all for a soft female voice to whisper in the wind, "There you cannot go. It is not yet your time to rest. Neither is it your destiny to perish on the High Sea. Look ye to the south. There lies your destiny. A new land! Go there. Prosper. Make a name for yourselves. . .

"Live! And be happy!"

We spent that night balanced at the Top of The Wold on this Mountain of Ocean. The sky was revealed to us. The planets and moons circling Thermo The Sun. Looking further, we saw the invisible shell surrounding and protecting what somehow we knew to be called Jerichospace. . .or rather we saw the stars, bright lights embedded in this invisible sphere.

We marveled and praised The Gods of Wold in their power and glory and wisdom.

And we gave our thanks.

In the early glorious morning, we sang as the mages summoned the creatures of the sea once more and we began to descend, continuing our voyage with both excitement and some regret that we'd never see such a sight again.

Donyra blessed us providing fish for us to catch and once again days became weeks. Down here, the planets Urdjian and Golumbec filled the night sky rather than Kerracles and Wardd the two Moons of Wold. An ocean stream, very fast and strong, has altered our course to the South and West, causing us to approach what we call our new home, from the west rather than the north.

As I write this, on a brisk spring morning, we are no more than a day or two's sail from the coast. It has begun to rain for the first time since we left New Elenna so many months ago. It is fitting. Somehow, though, we are not worried. This Southern Continent lies before us, ripe and pure. It awaits us. Calls to us. "Soon," I think to the land ahead. "We'll be there soon."

Somehow, I feel that we're expected.