The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

06-1: The Hook And The Godstone

"Some men are born to serve," said the man in the long grey cloak. "Others are born to be served. We, on the other hand, are born for a greater purpose. To dedicate our very existence to the gods. To seek knowledge, guidance, wisdom. To learn our fate. To guide the people of Renryre Island, spiritually, as they seek their place in the skies among the Restless Stars; an eternity in the company of the gods."

The young man was nodding along as the druid Cedwyck listed their sacred purposes.

"Yes, I understand all that, Master, but what are we doing here?"

Cedwyck sighed. Another acolyte seemed destined to be claimed by the sea.

"Have I not made myself clear?" said Cedwyck. "We are here to serve the gods."

"I thought you said we weren't born to serve?"

"What?"

"Well you said—"

"I know what I said."

"Well, it's just that, well... it's a bit nippy out here, couldn't we do this indoors? Say perhaps sitting around a warm fire hearth? Sipping a special brew—"

"We do not become druids to spend our days drinking alcoholic and hallucinogenic concoctions," Cedwyck retorted, his lips shaking as he spoke, spittle firing out at the young man.

"Well then, at least let me wear one of those long grey cloak—"

"Arggh!"

Cedwyck felt his patience vanish, his anger flush, his staff swing. He watched as the young man toppled over the cliff, his pitiful scream fading away as he bounced twice against the bluff and landed awkwardly on the jutted rocks below. He waited for any signs of movement, but the former acolyte lay perfectly still, his legs twisted the wrong way. Then the waves crashed in, sucking the body into the sea. He kept watching as the corpse floated away, searching for signs of fins breaking the surf. Sure enough, they were there. The tailsharks were always waiting.

"A gift from the gods, my friends," he called out over the waves.

Cedwyck turned back to the Godstone. It was judging him. It did that a lot.

"He deserved it!" he insisted.

The Godstone didn't reply.

A sharp gust of wind blew his cloak free, exposing him to the elements. It was cold. It was always cold in the morning on Littleren — the only island off Renryre Island — tucked away off the south coast and forming the sharp end of the Hook Peninsula. It wasn't named that for the bountiful fishing, but rather for the strong current which hooked daring ships, and smashed them against the rocks in sight of the Godstone. The Whalebreaker, it was called, purportedly swelled by giant sea monster of the same name as he searched the southern oceans for his mate. The current split as it hit the southern coast of Renryre Island, pushing north to either side. The Hook was its most deadly trap.

"Maybe it's time to call it a day then," he said to the Godstone. "I could do with a drink to clear my mind. I happen to have mixed up something interesting last night."

The Godstone still didn't reply. It wasn't much for conversation, but its gaze was ever unforgiving. Nine feet tall it stood, surrounded by a circle of green grass that stretched nine feet from its base, which in turn was enclosed by nine smaller stones placed equally around the circle. From there, the cliff fell away on all sides, save for the path leading back along Littleren.

Cedwyck glanced back down at the waves crashing on the rocks some hundred yards below him, making sure that the acolyte hadn't washed back ashore. Confident that the tailsharks had destroyed the evidence, he began his long journey back to his home. It took half the morning to reach the Godstone, and he had gained nothing in the process save for an opening for a new acolyte.