Whistling Fields: A Mysterious Expanse of Desolation
Overview
The Whistling Fields, a haunting and desolate expanse situated on an unnamed island in the Serpent’s Maw Ocean, this desolate expanse is shrouded in an eerie atmosphere, devoid of any signs of civilization or habitation unfolds as a mysterious realm steeped in both beauty and peril. The adventurers who dared to explore its depths were met with an eerie silence that resonated with an otherworldly whistle carried by the wind. Stretching for kilometers, the landscape is dominated by a material known as “dead stone,” resembling concrete but bearing an enigmatic origin from a forgotten era. Silent sentinels, formed of this immovable dead stone, rise from the ground, defying magical attempts to alter them. Their purpose remains shrouded in mystery, adorned with cracks and crevices pulsating with ethereal radiance, resembling stars scattered across an ancient tapestry. The eldritch radiation emanating from the dead stone structures draws adventurers in with mesmerizing beauty, yet it carries an unspoken dread, stirring primal fears as if they stand in the presence of something beyond comprehension.
Appearance
Stretching for kilometers, the Whistling Fields present a surreal sight with their silent sentinels—immovable dead stone structures rising from the ground. Within the cracks of these structures, an ethereal radiance pulsates, reminiscent of stars scattered across an ancient tapestry. This eldritch glow, mesmerizing in its beauty, hints at a cosmic force beyond mortal comprehension, yet it carries an unspoken dread that stirs primal fears within those who gaze upon it.
The Haunting Whistle
The haunting silence of the Whistling Fields is punctuated by a mournful whistle carried by the wind, harmonizing with the desolation of the landscape. This eerie sound sets the stage for the mysterious and perilous events that unfold within this forsaken place.
Osseous Embrace
A sinister phenomenon known as the “Osseous Embrace” lurks within the heart of the Whistling Fields, transforming the desolation into a labyrinth of peril. This silent killer strikes when adventurers find themselves truly alone, with nothing but the quietness of the fields or the haunting cadence of the wind. In an instant, without warning, the Osseous Embrace reduces living beings to naught but skeletal remains, surrounded by the clothes and items they once wore.
Adventurer’s Accounts
Adventurer Marcus Valerian, in his chronicle ”Beyond the maw,” recounts the harrowing experiences within the Whistling Fields. The once-thriving forest surrounding the area withers and twists, leaving behind a stark reminder of the fragility of life in this enigmatic realm. Marcus describes the allure of the ethereal radiance, the haunting silence broken only by the wind’s mournful whistle, and the elusive shadows playing tricks on the senses. The Osseous Embrace claims companions, leaving behind only bones and tattered garments as grim testaments to the sinister phenomenon. In the end, Marcus and his shattered crew flee from the Whistling Fields, haunted by the memories of the eldritch radiance, haunting whistles, and the malevolent embrace that left scars that would never heal. The Whistling Fields, with its balance of existence and elements, stands as a chilling reminder of the enduring, ever-changing nature of existence in this world.
- Text written by adventurer Marcus Valerian in Beyond the maw
Chapter 4: Whistling Fields
As the sun raised over the horizon, the first rays of light painted the sky in a beautiful orange hue. The sun was rising over the ocean, and the waves were reflecting the light in a way that made it look like the ocean was on fire.
I stood on the shores of a yet unnamed island in the far reaches of the Serpent’s Maw Ocean. After many months of sailing my crew and I, Marcus Valerian, directed Arcanogia to this island from the shores of Kor’Talor. The beautiful ship was anchored in the shallow waters of the island, and the crew was busy unloading the supplies and equipment we had brought with us.
We were eager to explore the island after many days evading the dangers of Anantasea’s Signals. The island was covered in dense jungle, with its canopy dancing swiftly in the ocean’s breeze.
After finishing the unloading, I gathered my crew and we started to explore the island. The jungle was dense and the undergrowth was thick, but we managed to find a path that led us to the island’s interior. The verdant surroundings enchanted us, yet we felt like it bore an uncanny feeling, as we had not seen any wildlife or heard any sounds of life other than the rustling of the leaves and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
After the first day of exploration, we had not found any clearings or signs of civilization. But as we ventured deeper into the jungle the vibrant colors of the flora started to grow dimmer, and the sounds of the ocean started to fade away. Giving way to crooked and fragile trees, their canopy gone and the ground covered in a layer of dead leaves, gray and lifeless breaking into ash as we stepped on them.
We set up camp on the border of the dead forest, and as the night fell, we could hear the sound of the ocean again. The crew felt a slight unease, and I could see the worry in their eyes. I tried to reassure them that this could be a natural phenomenon, like wildfires or a disease that had killed the trees. But I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The next day we ventured deeper into the dead forest, and as we walked, the feeling of unease grew stronger. The trees were crooked and twisted, they seemed to be reaching out to us and yet once touched they would crumble into ash. Although the second day was uneventful we found a small river in which we refilled our water supplies, and we found a small clearing in which we set up camp at the end of the day.
It wasn’t until the third day that we found it, not something natural, and yet I refuse to believe it was man-made. The forsaken land christened by the crew as “The Whistling Fields”. A vast expanse of gray, weathered stone-like ground, stretching as far as the eye could see. The ground was not covered in ash, it was as clean as if not even the dust wanted to touch it. From the ground spikes of stone rose at different angles, some of them were as tall as our ship, and some smaller than a coin and some grew from other spikes or in clusters from the ground.
The crew was in awe, and I was too. I had never seen anything like it, and I could not believe that something like this could exist. Galintras, my first mate approached the spikes and touched one of them, according to him, he theorized and subsequently confirmed that the spikes were made of Dead Stone, as he tried -unsuccessfully- to transmute it into a different shape.
As I cannot confirm your knowledge within the matter, reader, I will explain that Dead Stone is -as of the time I write you this- a rare and mysterious material, not entirely a stone, nor metal nor wood. It is said to be found in the most desolate and forsaken places, Dead stone seems like nothing other than a heavy and unremarkable stone, but it is unyielding, it does not respond to any form of tool, magic or force.
We advanced through the Whistling Fields, and as we walked, we could see amidst the cracks and crevices of the stone, a faint blue radiance pulsed, akin to the light of the stars. We were all mesmerized by the sight, and yet we felt like it carried an unspoken warning. It had a dreadful beauty that stirred a hidden primal fear within us that we couldn’t understand. No, it was not ever something mortals could understand.
We set up camp after a long day of exploration within the fields. As the sun hid behind the spike covered horizon, the crew and I gathered around the campfire. We were all silent, lost in our thoughts but the silence was broken by a faint sound, a sound that was not of the ocean, nor of the jungle moving in the wind. It started as a faint whisper carried by the breeze, but as the wind grew stronger and the night grew darker, the whisper turned into a morning full whistled tune. The campfire flickered and shadows danced in the edge of our vision, as if our minds tried playing tricks on us.
We all felt the unease, and I could see the fear in the eyes of my crew. We gathered around the campfire and decided that we should make guard shifts, as we could not shake the feeling that something was watching us. The night was long and the whistling tune never truly stopped, it was always there, either as a powerful melody or a faint whisper at the edge of our hearing.
On the second day within the fields, Gulinthras was said to have seen a movement behind one of the spikes. The crew watched with our weapons drawn, as the elven man turned around the spike. That was when my first mate was taken. Without a sound, screaming or struggle, he was gone. We noticed he hadn’t come to the otherside of the spike, and we rushed to the other side, but he had given place to only bones and his clothes. We searched for him, but we found nothing. We could not find him, and we could not find any trace of what had taken him. I called such a phenomenon the Osseous Embrace, for the lack of a better name.
Fear and anger took its place on the crew, and we decided that we should search for what had taken Gulinthras and avenge our fallen comrade.
We kept walking, with our weapons drawn and hearts filled with dread and anger. The night fell, and the whistling tune grew louder again, the blue radiance within the dead stone gave off a slight warmth contrasting with the cold nature of the stone. During the night Borindil, the ship’s cook, discovered uncanny markings on the stone, they were arranged as if they were a text, but the language was unknown to us. The markings were not carved, but they were part of the stone, as if the stone itself had grown with the markings.
During the third day within the fields, Borindil was taken by the Osseous Embrace, the dwarven woman was gone without a trace the instant we lost sight of her. Her clothes entangled with her bones left behind, dangling from the spikes. We searched for her, but we found nothing. We could not find her, and we could not find any trace of what had taken her.
Fear had taken hold of the crew, we decided that we should leave the forsaken land by crossing the fields and returning to the jungle and then circle the island to reach Arcanogia.
We walked with haste, ignoring anything that was not the path ahead of us. I could feel the fear of the crew, and I could feel the fear within me. The whistling tune was louder than ever as the wind seemed to try to push us into the spikes.
I made sure to not let my curiosity take hold of me, even when I could swear I saw a figure in the corner of my eye, or when I could swear I heard a voice calling my name. I could not let my mind play tricks on me, I could not let the fear take hold of me.
We decided to take a small break at night, we climbed to the top of a spike that was at an angle from the ground, and we set up camp. The spike allowed us to see that the fields were not endless, and that we could see the jungle in the distance, we were around half-way from the jungle, right at the center of the fields. As I pointed it out to the crew, Patyr and Ahlor, both humans that were Borindil’s assistants, lost their footing and fell to the ground. They were taken by the Osseous Embrace before reaching the ground, as they left our sight they were gone and their bones spread across the ground with the impact.
We were all horrified, and we decided to leave the forsaken land as soon as possible. We dismantled the camp and we started to walk again, no, we started to run. We ran as fast as we could, having given up on the plan of crossing the field we retraced our steps and we ran towards the jungle. I could feel my hairs standing on end, and I could feel the fear within this place becoming something far more than my soul could ever fabricate. The whistling tune was louder than ever, my bones shook with it.
My heart was burning as I struggled to keep running but never stopping. I hadn’t looked at my crew, it was a struggle within, maybe for selfishness, maybe I didn’t want to look and see them taken by the Osseous Embrace. I could hear their footsteps, but I could not hear their voices. My mind was filled with the whistling tune, thinking was impossible, I could only run.
I caved in, I fell to the ground, I could not run anymore, my eyes looking into the cracks of the dead stone, the blue stars irradiated my face, as the thousand blue dots watched me as if they were eyes of the stone itself, mocking me, it made my eyes hurt, I closed them and as my mouth felt dry and a metalic taste plagued my senses. I could feel the fear taking hold of me, like dark tendrils reaching out as I laid on the ground. I did not want to look, I did not want to see what was coming for me. That was when I heard my comrades running past me, I open my eyes to them running towards the jungle, Luca, my second mate, turned back to look at me, and I could see the fear in his eyes, he closed them and ran back to help me up. I could not hear his voice, but I could see his lips moving, my heartbeat was too loud, the whistling tune was too loud, the fear was too loud.
We kept running for what felt like hours, Luca helped me keep running as my chest burned and my legs ached. Ahead of us was the crew. I saw some of them dropping their backpacks and weapons, to run faster. By the time I was able to run on my own, I saw the jungle, I saw the end of the forsaken land. But something else called my attention, Aryl, the tiefling that worked as the ship’s lookout, had fallen to the ground, Luca kept running, but I stopped to help Aryl, I did not want to leave them behind. They slowly got up, but refused to move, their eyes were covered in tears, the youngest adventurer in the crew was frozen. “It will be okay, we are almost there, we are almost out of here.” I said, for a second I could hear my voice and their cries amidst all the noise.
But suddenly, the cries became silent, I saw it, right in front of me, the Osseous Embrace took them, and I could not do anything to stop it. I just stood there watching as the uncomprensible took them in moments, nothing but bones and equipment were left by the thing. I still held the hand of the tiefling, but it was gone, I was alone as the bones fell off my grip.
A hand grabbed my shoulder, and I turned around to see Luca, he was crying, and I could see the fear in his eyes. “We need to go, we need to go now.” He said, and I could hear his voice, I could hear the fear carriedby his words.
We ran towards the jungle, and as we crossed the threshold of the forsaken land, the whistling tune didn’t stop until we were deep within the jungle. We kept running until we reached the shore, and we found Arcanogia. The crew was silent, and I could see the dread and regret in their eyes. We set sail to Kor’Talor as soon as we could, and we left the forsaken island.
We wish to have left the Whistling Fields, but once we set foot on the land, we understood the none of us could ever leave the fields i a way that mattered.
Their bones are still there, Borindil, Gulinthras, Patyr, Ahlor and Aryl, they are still there, and I could not do anything to save them. I could not do anything to save them, and I could not do anything to save myself. May the gods have their souls, and not whatever took them in the forsaken land.
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