Kingsport, New Britannia (PaxLair Times) – January 27, 2014 – by Ashlynn –
Some weeks ago I wrote of a vivid dream I had of a far away place in some ways similar to the Sosaria we all know and love but at the same time very different. Some nights ago I was dragged back to that place and once again find myself to recall the details with the same kind of clarity.
I recall waking outside of Owls Head – that same town I found myself wandering around the last time although it now looked slightly different. Windmills dotted the horizon and crowned a few of the buildings, while strange mechanical devices that buzzed with the sound of lightning formed a part of some structures. And the people were a little more talkative and substantial on this meeting and just a little less ghost-like.
Curiously the town workshop was also better equipped and upon approaching it, the man overseeing the establishment encouraged me to give the fine art of weaving and garment making a try. Unfortunately I have little experience in the craft of weaving and it took me quite some time just to figure out how to make simple thread.
After some experimentation (or perhaps something more approaching butchery of the craft) I decided it was time to explore. I was curious as to what my old friend Bentham was up to and if he had managed to find the key to his sinister tower of thundery death. It turned out that he had and was excitedly calibrating the machinery inside the tower so I thought it best to leave him be.
I soon heard whispers about a coastal town some distance away by the name of Kingsport and was immediately resolved to make my way there. The obvious choice was to take the road though for all I knew the town could be several day’s travel away. A sign beside the road didn’t fill me with much encouragement either, reading “BEWARE” in an offshoot of runic I have come to call New Britannian. It was then I noticed an old stone circle on the edge of woods which I was sure was not present on my last visit. In the centre of the crumbling stones I saw what looked like none other than a moongate and feeling daring I decided to jump through it!
Taking a deep breath after passing through I could smell salty sea air and the sound of seagulls filled my ears. Hugging the coastline were dozens of buildings including what I can only describe as a large, stone manor house. Clearly I had arrived in Kingsport!
At first I thought the place a picturesque town – an idyllic seaside village in which to live out one’s days but it soon became clear that troubles had come to Kingsport. Ships had stopped coming into port from the mainland, buildings were boarded up, and the local merchant guild was facing financial woes. A shadowy band of smugglers had set up shop in one of the warehouses by the docks profiting off of a black market trade in goods and passengers.
It was a lady by the name of Lauren who explained some of this to me. She said it seemed that we were both trapped on the island and had visited the smugglers with the intention of securing passage to the mainland. She was also interested in the whereabouts of a few other individuals though I cannot remember why.
Though I spent a great deal of time exploring further and encountered many curious things, eventually the world grew hazy and out of focus. Much like the last time the dream began to fade and I woke up in my bed once more. Still, I am certain however that I’ll visit that place once again.