#Silk Nets and Barbed Hooks

[avis-fictional-world]

@makeshift-moth

Yo loved reading this fic!! Please go read it it’s so cool! And very sad 😢

Just picturing mer-Yoichi sad in his little fish tank 😢

Might do a resign to better match the description I think I didn’t look up the fish he’s described as sorry 😣

@makeshift-moth-writes hope you like it 🙏

[keilemdarkmode]

preened

🚫contains themes of abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere 🚫

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x (fem)reader

word count: 4.2k

settling in keigo’s arms was far easier than facing his weapons and wrath.

warnings: noncon/dubcon/rape, blood violence, manipulation, yandere, drowning, mention of branding, abuse, somehow STILL soft, bathing/bath tub shit

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a/n: wow fellas, first yan hawks piece!! PLEASE!! heed the warnings!! this is not soft and tender, it is fucked up, sad, dark, and tender! if its not your thing, please keep scrolling ❤️

that being said, this piece was beta’ed by the lovely @hawnks. it was interesting and new to explore these themes and ideas and im happy to share them now :’^) enjoy!

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Keigo could be cruel.

You knew that too well.

But, lately, he’d been kinder. Softer, without so many barbs and blades just behind his words and actions.

You knew, very consciously, that this was due to your good behavior after the ‘feather’ incident, but that knowledge didn’t dull the sweetness too much.

(Only a little.)

...

“Dove, are you falling asleep?” Keigo’s voice was far too mirthful as he carded a hand through your hair.

You grumbled, something lighthearted and muffled into his chest.

You had been nodding off, Keigo’s arm slack over your shoulder as he idly watched a film that you were sure he wasn’t paying attention to.

An afternoon off together was rare, and you didn’t want to spoil it.

Asking Keigo to put on a movie and ‘snuggle’ got him red-faced and poofy-feathered, he all but dragged you to the couch to pamper you for the day.

It would’ve been endearing if you’d wanted to be there.

Maybe, sometime back, you would’ve fought.

When Keigo brought you the fluffy, red blanket he loved sharing with you, you might’ve spit on it, maybe on him. Thrown the blanket back into his face only to laugh at the anger and rage he would inevitably erupt into before throwing you over his knee.

Maybe, once, you would have tried to scald Keigo with the steaming tea he brought you (prepared just as you liked, it was one of the first things he memorized about you). You would’ve probably aimed for his face— maybe, his wings, if you were feeling particularly stupid.

Now?

You smiled, maybe something real, as you took the blanket from his waiting arms. You let him blow on your tea with his pretty pink lips as he insisted he’d ‘never let you get burned’.

(You both knew that the ‘fire’ incident was too far. You’d been vacant for a month after Keigo had pulled that stunt.)

“Thank you,” You kissed his cheek, like he wanted you to.

Maybe you should’ve been disgusted. Instead, the contact felt nice. Touch starvation had long since set in, and Keigo was your only outlet. And he was very willing.

The afternoon had been easy, nice. You’d let him play with your hair, mindful to tuck your braced arm to your tummy under the blanket. Keigo tended to be a bit more on edge when he was reminded of the ‘feather’ incident.

It was easier to keep it hidden.

“Dear?” Keigo asked, nuzzling into the crown of your head. “When was the last time we gave you a proper bath?”

You tensed so hard, you might as well have been stone.

Baths were still bad, even after so long.

You figured it out, after a while. It was one of Keigo’s subconscious avian instincts, to keep him and his mate clean and looking well.

It was why he always sat in front of you to allow you to pick through and straighten his feathers. It was vulnerable, the way he shivered and shuddered and fucking moaned as you would straighten and pluck what you could.

It was why he scrutinized the brushing of your teeth so heavily, scoffing at your lack of ‘precision’ and ‘attention to detail’. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d brushed them yourself. Keigo would always just seat you on the cold marble counter, slot himself between your legs while vice-gripping your jaw and gagging you with a toothbrush.

Though, he had been more gentle lately. Nicer.

He’d been more like the ‘mate’ he’d always described himself being.

Your role to Keigo was why he had full autonomy over bathing you.

He could take showers and baths alone, all as he pleased. But, you were washed by his hands only. Even the quick showers after he’d fuck you silly, he was always with you, scrubbing you down with special soaps and a soft cloth.

“Dove?” Keigo’s voice came kindly, yet his grip tightened. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“You did, I’m sorry,” The response came from your lips hurriedly. “It’s been a while.”

Keigo hummed, clicking his tongue and sitting up fully, “I’ll set up the bath then. I’ll take a shower later so I can make sure you’re squeaky clean now, how about that?”

You nodded, knowing better than to disagree with him.

When Keigo had first brought you ‘home’, he’d take your baths with you. He’d pull you tight to his chest, try to, as you struggled and screamed.

He snapped once, letting his anger get the better of him when you bit him so hard on his forearm that he bled.

Though, it wasn’t his blood that stained the bathwater that night.

It was the first time he showed you how much soft damage he could inflict with his sharpened feathers.

He rarely took baths with you after that; you hoped the memory of haunted him the same way it did with you.

Over time, bathing you had become a sort of neutral ground.

Keigo enjoyed it too much for it to be used as a punishment, and you learned better.

That didn’t mean slipups didn’t happen, but in general, you were good for him then.

The bad memories still made you tremble, vivid reminders.

Keigo tugged you to the bathroom, the eon-suite in the master bedroom, ‘our’ bedroom, as he called it with the wistful look in his eye.

Part of you reviled the affection in his tone, the other part was relieved that it wasn’t malice anymore.

Stepping into the bathroom was always a bit jarring, your mind and body knowing what occurred so often in the months past. The conditioning was implicit, even if the two of you didn’t like it.

The master bathroom was massive, built for his wings. The soaker tub, jets and all, was meant to accommodate their size. He’d had a new one put in, he told you, just before he ‘brought’ you ‘home’.

Keigo stopped you in front of the sink, a usual routine. You kept your gaze trained on the ground.

“Dove, it’s alright, no need to be frightened,” He chuckled, but you knew it was more of a command than anything else. He slung his arms over your shoulders, a firm grip on your jaw forcing you to look into the reflection. “You’ve been a good girl lately, I’ll be gentle.”

You sniffled, nodding.

His grip tightened, “Words. You know better.”

“Y-yes,” You nodded, eyes darting around the mirror to avoid looking at your dual visage. “I have been good. I’ll be good.”

“Sweet girl,” Keigo sang, peppering kisses over the side of your face as you made eye contact with yourself. Your stare was vacant and cold, clinging onto what you could grasp without pain.

You hated it—

Yourself.

Your stomach rolled, but you swallowed down your disgust.

“Don’t look away, understand?” Keigo’s voice was too soft for the authority in his words.

“I won’t, I understand.”

You watched as his nimble fingers slipped under the shirt of his that you wore. He’d let you wear panties that day, soft cotton ones that hardly seemed ‘sexy’, but they drove him wild anyways. Something about normalcy always got him more feral than normal.

Considering the cold outside, he’d even been kind enough to dress you in a pair of loose, thigh high stockings. He slid them down your legs, descending as he did to leave little kisses. He pulled at your underwear, palming at the plump of your ass as they fell to the ground.

You stepped out of the stockings and panties when he tapped your ankles, leaving you completely naked in the mirror.

Forcing yourself to stare in the mirror was hard.

You didn’t look like yourself.

You hadn’t for so long.

Your own visage made your head spark with numbness, something acrid spilling over your tongue.

It must’ve shown in your face, but you didn’t register it.

“None of that, angel, you’re beautiful,” Keigo draped himself over you, wings outstretched.

You swallowed, nodding, but not replying.

“Bath time, then,” Keigo hummed, guiding you to the toilet seat as he prepared the soak.

You watched him roll up the sleeves of his soft button-down, revealing his many scars. Some were from his work, others from your nails and teeth. You felt guilty, odd as it was, seeing how they still marred his pretty, tanned skin.

You folded your hands in your lap as Keigo got to work.

He turned on the faucet, always a bit too hot, just so you could soak for longer. Shampoo, conditioner, a variety of hair and face masks, special bubble baths and bath bombs all carried in a cute basket were brought to the side of the tub as he prepared it.

If you were proper lovers, it would’ve been endearing.

He rose, lighting jar and pillar candles across the massive bathroom. It was something he did to put you both at ease, the fire acting like some sort of safety net that you both knew kept him from getting too aggressive with you, risking burning his wings.

It all felt like too much, the care he put into everything.

Your guilt swelled as you focused on your naked thighs.

Keigo talked to you as he went about preparing your pampering, knowing better than to expect any proper responses as he prepared the bath with lovely smells and pretty colors.

The last thing he did was hang a red silk robe on a hook near the door.

You really must’ve been good, getting the chance to cover yourself after a bath.

You had been trying harder lately. Remembering your rules, how and where to be and when. It made things easier. Fighting made your tired, clawing had made you weaker.

Being complicit burned something in you, low and rolling, but it was better than facing Keigo’s constant wrath.

On your more mentally together days, the ones where he was gone more and longer, you put together some of Keigo’s fucked up psychology.

He just didn’t want to be alone.

He just wanted a companion.

It was cruel— sick, that one of the most desired men in the nation had to pluck you, and all your mundanity, from your life to force you into the mold of a lover, consort and best friend like you weren’t a person.

You shook your head, trying not to stew.

Stewing made you bad.

And you had been good.

You had to be, after the ‘feather incident’.

It made things easier.

...

You’d found the feather under the couch.

Keigo left them around normally, the sensitive things picking up on your heart rate and breathing. The safety phone, an old landline, would ring if you got too anxious, the shrill tone only making it worse, but that was part of the point, wasn’t it?

All the same, this feather looked older.

The color was duller, the filaments frayed.

Keigo liked to present the feathers openly, stuck into fixtures and over counters and tabletops. Something about ‘keeping his mate safe from prospective challengers’.

(You never saw anyone other than him. There was no one to oppose Keigo in your life.)

This particular plume being hidden seemed like a mistake.

He didn’t slip up often.

Your mind spun as you debated what to do.

You poked it, cautiously.

It didn’t move, waver, or harden.

It was limp, like a real, normal feather.

The spine was hard—

Solid enough to shove into a lock, maybe.

You snatched it up, hiding it between the cushions as you raced to think through a plan.

Your previous escape attempts hardly even happened. Keigo was fast enough to catch you as you neared the fortified door, always.

He’d drag you to the bedroom to hold you down and eat your cunt until your mind was too mushy to even conceptualize ideas beyond Keigo’s tongue fucking into your dripping hole. He was mean about it, pushing you too far and keeping you there to writhe and beg for reprieve.

You hated him for it at the time.

But, you had an opportunity to fucking get out.

During the incident—

He was gone.

He was at work for the rest of the day.

You hurried.

His other present feathers would sense you, you had to work quickly.

You didn’t have shoes other than house slippers, but they’d have to make due. You shoved some granola bars in your pocket, freezing the moment you heard the ringtone of the landline echo over the penthouse.

Don’t slow, don’t stop.

How fucking foolish you were, thinking you could outrun a being that flew.

Idiotic, you’d come to chastise yourself later.

You stuffed what you could into your pockets, running to the front door and shoving the spine of the feather into the lock.

It was firm enough to be used as a pick, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how to pick locks, but you had to try right?

You could pick the eight locks on the door before Keigo got home, right?

Foolish.

Your hands trembled as the phone rang over and over.

Your heart nearly stopped when you heard the telltale ‘thunk’ of Keigo landing on the balcony.

Frantically, you tried to undo just one lock, just for the sake of your own sanity, knowing what was to come—

The balcony door slammed open.

You went rigid, hands still working, sweaty and desperate.

Keigo was on you in a second, pulling you from your knees by your hair in one swift motion.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

His voice could’ve cut steel, the tone so angry and dead that it brought tears to your eyes as you began to struggle.

“No, no, no— you’re not doing this shit.” Keigo spat, tugging your shaking hand from the lock as the lifeless feather fell to the ground.

He pressed you against the door, bearing all of his body weight against your back as you flattened against the wood. His wings rose, eclipsing any light.

His grip on your wrist got tighter, harder. It was sure to bruise.

(Ha.)

Keigo snarled, roughly slamming his hips into your backside, “What is this shit you’re trying to pull? I know you’re an ungrateful cunt, but I didn’t know you were a complete dumbass.”

He bent your arm back, farther and higher up by the wrist.

“Did you really think you could do that? Do this to me?!” Keigo’s voice tore through you, the waver in it sounding so foreign it almost hurt. “LEAVE ME?!”

Fear shot through you as his worn hands wrapped around your palm.

In one swift motion—

Snap.

Your vision tilted as you fell back into Keigo.

Your hand wavered limply and wrongly in his grip, thoroughly broken.

Keigo clapped a hand over your mouth as you began to scream, wail at the searing pain that was shooting from your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.” His unapologetic, hot breath swirled over your ear like nausea and bile, “I promise, this will be for your own good.”

...

Keigo didn’t stop that day, no matter how much you begged and shrieked.

...

The rest of the incident got blurry.

It hurt to think about it too much.

Keigo’s rage-filled voice promising that he was going to ‘snap a new bone each time you cum’ remained a haunting memory.

He followed through, of course. He was nothing if not uncomfortably honest at the worst of times.

You could recall the feeling of cold blood trickling down your thighs, nose, and even from your mouth as you sobbed and screamed for mercy on the cold hardwood. A small feather, wet with you in so many forms, licked and lapped at your clit as Keigo made good on his promise.

The feeling of his sweat dripping onto your spine as he easily crushed and snapped a new bone each time you reached ecstasy haunted you into a submission that was no longer reluctant.

You hated yourself for it.

...

Your gaze drifted from the steaming water to your hand, the brace removed. Your fingers were still mangled, they would be forever. Keigo purposefully patched them poorly— he’d told you so. Something about making it a ‘lasting lesson’.

You sniffled at the thought, flexing the fingers, feeling the old pains shoot up your arm.

“Angel love? No need to do that,” Keigo reminded you, covering your hand with his own.

Gently, he tilted your jaw so you could meet his eyes.

You imagined the two of you looked equally sad.

The following weeks after the ‘incident’, you tried so hard to be good. The pain was a new intensity, something you couldn’t forget. Keigo reminded you of it if you slipped up, squeezing your hand or wrist with a grimace curled his pretty lips.

To his merit, Keigo also felt bad about hurting you so bad. Prior to that, punishments were either harsh edging or overstimulation which in some ways were pleasurable. Spanking too, but even then, Keigo looked a bit meek after leaving such unpleasant bruises on your backside.

But permanently crippling your body in time with tearing your cunt bloody?

He sobbed into your shoulder every night for a month.

Tried as you did to be good, you also became quite numb.

It felt better than the agony.

Keigo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his nose nudging your cheek, “What kind of bubble bath would you like?”

Wow.

You had been good.

You’d never been able to pick out your smells before.

Swallowing, you chewed at your lip, eyes drifting from the cute basket to Keigo’s expectant eyes.

He sighed, squeezing your knee, “Dear, it’s not a trick. Just your preference.”

“Can’t you pick?”

You immediately tensed, flinching away from Keigo’s soft touch with your own words.

An old echo of an older lesson:

‘Good girls don’t question things, do they?’

“I-I’m sorry,” You sputtered, eyes trained on the tile of the bathroom. You held out your bent wrist without thinking.

You tensed, waiting for the pain that would inevitably come.

Right?

Keigo stared at it, then to you, eyes going sad and glassy.

It made your heartbreak.

He carefully held your wrist, putting in back and rested in your naked lap.

“None of that, love. I’ll pick today, but you deserve to feel good. Don’t you think so?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Good girl, angel.”

Keigo gave you a gooey smile, one you returned as earnestly as you could. He quickly went back to the basket, pulling out an elegant glass bottle or two, dumping them into the tub as light, herbal scents began to waft into the air.

You relaxed a bit.

Keigo’s wings twitched, a little smile crooking on his face.

“It’s all ready, dear. Let me help you.”

Carefully, he helped you into the filled, bubbly foam settling around your shoulders as you leaned against the porcelain edge.

Though Keigo kept his wings flat to his back as he could, you could still see the feathers twitch and ruffle.

‘An instinctual response to seeing his mate so vulnerable— for his own benefit or otherwise.’

You swallowed, sinking into the sparkling water.

Keigo gave you another smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead before presenting you with two fancy-looking bath bombs.

“Now, dear, how about picking one of these? Nice and easy.”

He was right, but your head still spun.

You picked the one on the right, a dusty purple sphere with flower petals pressed into the outside.

Keigo lit up as you took it from his hand, gently placing it into the water.

You both watched it fizz and bob for a moment, mesmerized as the color spread and spit.

“See? Not too hard, huh?” Keigo chuckled to himself, laying his arms crossed on the lip of the massive tub. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, full of love and adoration that made you feel sick.

You knew better than to reject it.

Rather, you returned his affections the best you could.

You even leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Keigo lit up, eyes shining and bright as he cupped your cheeks, returning the gesture tenfold.

You performed so well, giggling and smiling as he did.

You’d become so good at putting on a show for him, even if it exhausted you. It was so much easier to pretend that he was a dutiful lover and not a horrifying captor. With your bent fingers submerged in the balmy water, it was even easier to shove down his transgressions.

On your good days, you would even forget.

You liked those days.

You wanted today to be one of those days where everything was okay.

You weren’t quite there, but you could try your best.

As you relaxed in the bath, Keigo gently pulled one of your legs from the water. Suds and sparkles slid down your leg as his pretty gold eyes inspected your skin.

Keigo smoothed a hand over the prickling hair of your leg, frowning, “Gotta shave you nice and smooth, huh, love?”

You nodded, whether it was your preference or not didn’t matter.

Sinking a little deeper into the water, you watched him so carefully treat your skin. Exfoliating with gentle circles, and then slicking your leg with a small vial of golden oil.

The razor was what scared you the most.

You bore its marks in many ways, little cuts and scars left on your legs from your ancient twitching and struggling were the most plentiful.

There were a few brands from the thin metal, marring the bottoms of your feet.

Those were the worst to heal. Keigo had to carry you around for days, toying with you the entire time. He teased you in your helplessness, but none of his quips were wrong.

He’d made you need him.

You audibly whimpered at the memories, Keigo’s gaze flickering to you as he ran the sleek razor over your shining skin.

“Dear, nothing to be afraid of. You’re doing so well.”

You nodded, knowing better than to remind him of his own horrors.

He shaved you carefully, thoughtfully even, humming to himself as he did. Keigo was nothing if not a perfectionist, leaving you silky smooth and well-tended to. You wondered if he would treat you to a massage later with how kind he was being.

He left your cunt alone, liking the hair more wild and ‘natural’.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Keigo asked wistfully as he moved closer. His hand slipped under the water, cupping the back of your neck.

You took a little too long to respond, you supposed in retrospect.

Keigo’s face went dark, for a mere moment, as his grip tightened, dragging you under the suds.

You jolted, struggling and flailing in shock as water flooded your mouth and nose.

He pulled you up as quickly as he had pulled you down, the dark look not dulled in the slightest.

“Be good, and I won’t have to do that shit.” His words dripped cold venom, wings beginning to unfurl. “I’d hate to revisit how long it takes you to stop squirming under there, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, hurriedly, quickly, sitting up the best you could in his grip, “N-no, I don’t want that. Please. This is very nice. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be better.”

They were promises, honest ones.

You very much wanted to keep them.

Keigo’s look thankfully dissolved, going melancholic before erupting warmly once more. It was a facial journey you’d seen too much and too often.

“That’s my girl,” He grinned, giving you a wet kiss on the lips. You kissed back the best you could, shaking visibly and not trying to hide it.

Keigo pulled back, golden eyes too sharp and too vibrant.

As he poured shampoo into his hand, you clenched your maimed hand into a fist. The lesson worked so well, you thought, as pain rushed through you, hot like the old brands and clawing scratches.

Keigo was too sweet as he lathered your hair in the candlelight.

And you were too crushed to resist.

Far too tired.

Endlessly too weak, he’d shown you over and over.

So, you accepted his touches to cast off his ire.

Even as he pulled you from the bath, flush to his body while he wrapped you in a fluffy towel, you smiled despite the bulge pressing into your abdomen.

Even as he massaged you with earthy smelling oils, cooing about how beautiful and sacred your body was, you thanked him despite the disgust that brewed so deep in you like some hellish brine pool.

Even as he fucked you like a lover, clasping your hands to the sheets and mixing you with him as he brought you to the edge again and again, you moaned with him despite how the stretch of his cock still aggravated old wounds.

Even as he filled you up with his cum, crying out about how well you took him, what a ‘good girl’ you were, your cries crashed with his in pretty harmony despite how rotten you should’ve felt.

Because, at the end of the day, sated, cleaned and loved in his arms, the old scars didn’t ache so bad if he kissed you sweetly. If you smiled at him as he smiled at you, Keigo was kind like a companion, mate and lover should be.

As you drifted off, you were okay with the weight of his wings bearing over your fucked-out body.

It was easier this way,

Maybe even better.

[paperanddice]

Folk of Leng

The folk of Leng, or denizens of Leng as Pathfinder calls them, hail back to the writings of Lovecraft in his unpublished The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath novel. Known there as the men of Leng, they are slavers who dwell on the plateau of Leng in the Dreamlands, a place that can only be reached by humans while they dream. These figures are satyr like, having hoofed feet and horns on their heads, which they hide with turbans and long robes when they travel to other places to trade. They and the plateau they live on are referenced in other of Lovecraft’s stories, particularly those leaning heavily on the Dreamlands and that mysterious realm.

Now, just like everything else inspired by or directly taken from Lovecraft’s writing, effort should be made to examine it for the racist undertones that Lovecraft put into it. It’s no secret that the man was virulently racist, even for his time, and in the case of the Folk of Leng, the obvious and likely inspiration for them can be associated with Arab people. Turbans, long and ostentatious robes, and slavery. This isn’t to say that these beings cannot be used in a non-racist capacity, but the association with real world groups and people are explicitly present. With that, and their use of slavery, they may not be appropriate in some games or groups, especially if players are not interested in attempting to rehabilitate Lovecraft’s writing.

The folk of Leng make use of strange magic, some easily understandable in the form of innate spellcasting and others vastly odder, such as being able to look through closed doors and around corners without actually passing there. They can simply cast their gaze beyond their body, and as such hiding from them or sneaking up on them can prove quite difficult. They also have weapons powered by their unusual abilities, an etherial harpoon that ignores all armor and is powered by their incredible force of personality, and can channel psychic damage through strikes with their scimitars. They also make use of hooked nets made from the silk of spiders of Leng to restrain and capture creatures, or simply to kill with the poison the barbs can inject into victims. The etheric harpoon is a very strange attack in terms of 5th edition’s rules, as it functionally uses the Touch AC rules from 3.5, ignoring all worn armor and other effects that add to AC. I can think of ways this attack may be better represented to fit within 5th editions design ethos better, such as making it a Dexterity saving throw or granting advantage on the attack roll if the target is wearing any armor, but this was the decision Kobold Press made with this one. They also chose to associate the folk of Leng with the void more than dreams, granting them allies in creatures that also exist in the void and the ability to survive within it themselves.

The folk of Leng seek additional allies in their ongoing war with the mi-go. As mi-go scouts and scientists land on different worlds, the folk of Leng pilot their ships into ports and hire mercenaries to explore areas they suspect the mi-go are setting up bases. With promises of payment in large, unusual rubies, they use humanoid adventurers to investigate and destroy these hated foes of theirs. Of course, once the mi-go have been dealt with the folk of Leng have to return home again with wares to offset the cost of their trip, and so they’ll often make a stop for gold or slaves before leaving again. Some may even try to collect the very mercenaries they hired, if they appear vulnerable.

Accidental travel into the Dreamlands may happen to those in areas of particularly high magic. Explorers trapped there generally find it strange and confusing, a world that seems so like theirs but unlike it at the same time. The many locations found in the Dreamlands may be fascinating to explore, but the folk of Leng are always on the lookout for those who have no allies or defenders, and will often attack groups that stand out too much to transport them back to the plateau of Leng. Of course, some of those who are trapped may find their own way to wake up again, as the Dreamlands are not real to humanoids. Death will return them to their own world, waking up from the dream that brought them here to begin with, and so the folk of Leng seek to ensure the survival of their captives at all costs.

A mysterious ship suddenly crashes into a small village, crushing several buildings in the center of town. This event is even more baffling, as the village is well over a month’s travel to the nearest body of water large enough to support a ship of this size. Survivors begin investigating the damaged craft, finding signs of a battle that drove it to crash and encountering surviving crew members. Some attempt to buy off the investigators with large rubies, while others immediately attack with strange weapons. All the while, the shadow of something even more dangerous lurks over the town, a member of whatever force attacked the ship that may turn its attention onto the villagers once its hated enemies have been fully eradicated.