Phealafarian Frontiers: 06: The Second First Quest
Leaving the bustling city of New Albion behind, the party set out on the winding road toward Stormwatch Bay. The journey was peaceful, the road flanked by rolling hills and scattered farms, but Tobias found something to complain about almost immediately.
“Those fence posts are an absolute disgrace,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Crooked, uneven—an embarrassment to craftsmanship.”
Unfortunately for him, a nearby dwarven carpenter overheard the comment. With a roar of indignation, the dwarf hurled a hammer at Tobias, missing him by mere inches. “You wanna build ’em yerself, then?!” he bellowed.
Tobias, eyes wide, quickly backpedaled. “A fine job, really! Just, uh, rustic charm!” he stammered before nudging Guardian. “Make Sebastian pull the cart faster. Now.”
With that, the party hastened their pace, leaving behind one very irate carpenter and his reclaimed hammer.
The day-long journey passed without further incident, the distant sound of waves growing stronger as they neared the coast. The scent of saltwater thickened in the air, carried inland by an ever-strengthening breeze. Overhead, clouds gathered, a foreboding sign of the approaching storm. By the time morning broke, they had reached Stormwatch Bay.
Stormwatch Bay was a modest settlement, little more than a cluster of fifteen or so buildings, including a tavern and a small general store. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond, its waves churning under the growing storm. Most striking of all was the lighthouse perched atop the cliffside—dark and lifeless when it should have been burning brightly. The absence of its guiding light made the town feel eerily quiet, as if it, too, were holding its breath against the coming storm.
Wasting no time, Thomas strode into the middle of town and called out, “Portmaster Brynn!”
A moment later, the door of the tavern swung open, and a portly, red-faced man stumbled out, squinting against the morning light. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and the scent of alcohol clung to him.
“That’s me! Mayor Brynn!” he declared with an exaggerated flourish before blinking blearily at the party. “Wait, what was I doin’ again? Oh, right, the lighthouse.”
The party exchanged looks before Tobias sighed. “Yes, the lighthouse. We’re here to help.”
Brynn scratched his head, wobbling slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Lighthouse went dark a few days ago. Soon as it happened, I sent word for city assistance. Ain’t heard back yet. Also ain’t heard from Ivan—the lighthouse keeper. Probably should’ve gone up to check, huh?” He chuckled, then coughed. “Haven’t, though. Been busy.”
“Drinking?” Erisa asked dryly.
Brynn grinned. “Oh yeah.”
With little else to go on, the party decided to investigate the lighthouse themselves.
The trek up the cliffside path led them to the lighthouse, its stone walls streaked with salt and age. The door hung slightly ajar, the faintest signs of a struggle visible—scrapes along the wood, scuffed footprints in the dust.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment, oil, and something faintly charred. The staircase leading upward bore scorch marks, evidence of fire magic having been used recently. The party moved cautiously, ascending the tower.
At the top, they found the glass cage meant to house the lighthouse’s flame—open and empty.
Heading back down, they checked the floor below, which appeared to be the lighthouse keeper’s living quarters. The place was in disarray, furniture knocked over, papers scattered. Most notably, a heavy wardrobe had been toppled onto its side.
Suspicious, the party moved to lift it back up. As they did, the doors creaked open, and a body slumped forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud. For a tense moment, there was nothing—no sound, no movement.
Tobias took an uneasy step back. “Oh no…” he muttered, his voice edged with dread.
Then, with a ragged gasp, the figure coughed violently, sucking in air.
Tobias exhaled sharply, relief and embarrassment washing over him in equal measure.
They helped him sit up and passed him some water. He took a deep swig before exhaling sharply. “Name’s Ivan. Lighthouse keeper. Been trapped in that damn thing for three days.”
“What happened?” Thomas asked.
Ivan groaned, rubbing his face. “Borglins. Little bastards stormed in, knocked me around. I managed to hide in the wardrobe, but they pushed it over, and, well…” He gestured vaguely. “There I stayed.”
Ivan blinked, glancing around in confusion. His gaze darted to the nearest window, searching for the reassuring glow that should have been illuminating the in coming storm clouds. “Wait… where’s the light? The lighthouse should be burning.” He pushed himself up slightly, his movements slow and stiff from days of confinement, his expression darkening as realization set in.
The party exchanged glances before Thomas stepped forward. “It’s not. The lighthouse has been dark for days.”
Ivan’s face paled. “No… no, no, no!” He braced himself against the nearby wall, attempting to stand, only to stumble from weakness. “The storm’s almost here, and we’ve got a ship due today! If they can’t see the coast—” He sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at the furniture around him as he struggled upright. “We need to get Matchlight back—now!”
“Matchlight?” Erisa questioned.
“Friendly little fire elemental,” Ivan explained. “Powers the lighthouse. Been with us for years.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small amulet, but before Eldrin or Tosk could even think about snatching it, Erisa swiped it from his hand.
“That,” Ivan said, blinking, “is a special amulet of Locate Creature. Tuned exclusively to Matchlight. Works over a much longer range—we needed it after the last time he wandered off all the way to Mugen Bay in the south.”
Erisa activated the amulet, her vision immediately overlayed with a faint red glow, pointing downward—toward the base of the cliffs.
“It’s below us,” she confirmed.
Ivan nodded. “Then that’s where you’ll find him.”
Ensuring that Ivan was stable, the party hurried outside just as the first droplets of rain began to fall. The sky had darkened further, lightning flashing in the distance. The wind carried the scent of approaching rain, a foreboding signal of the storm’s full force. They followed the edge of the cliffside until they found a narrow, winding staircase carved into the rock, descending toward the crashing waves.
At the bottom, a cave entrance loomed before them, dark and uninviting. The sound of the encroaching storm mixed with the roar of the tide, sending sprays of seawater up against the rocks.
With little time to waste, the party steeled themselves and stepped inside.
