[h3][color=gold][b]The Stormrider groans beneath your feet.[/b] You feel it...deep in the bones of the ship, in the pulse of the air around you. A slow, sick roll of arcane energy seeping through every pipe and seam, as if the elemental bound within can sense what's coming. As if it resents it.

[b]Your Captain addresses you all over the comms system.[/b] His voice, typically steady and clipped, now carries the taut edge of calculation pressed against desperation.

[b][color=2F8C99]"This is Captain Cindralis. The situation is… less than ideal. Most systems are compromised, and the harsh truth is that there’s no riding this  out, not this far from Breland."[/color][/b]

There’s a pause...barely more than a heartbeat, but the silence hums louder than any engine. Then:

[b][color=2F8C99]"I’m initiating emergency descent protocol. Closest survivable option is the Lhazaar Principalities. Not a choice I make lightly. But it’s that or drift until we burn out."[/color][/b]

Even without seeing his face, you can hear the distaste in his tone. [i]Lhazaar.[/i] Something in his voice suggests he knows exactly what kind of welcome you’re in for...and why it worries him so deeply. Those of you that recognize these islands by name understand his concern, given their reputation. Those that no nothing about any of this still pick up the unease loud and clear. 

[hr]

[b]The message ends… and the waiting begins.[/b] A slow kind of panic sinks in, not with screaming or sprinting...but in the quiet shuffle of boots, the white-knuckled grips on railings, the murmured prayers to gods from all over the world.

You hear it in the mechanical locking of cabin doors. In the soft click of blades being sheathed with reverence. In the way even the crew stops pretending to have everything under control.

There’s time. Not much, but enough for it to hurt.

[b]Maybe you find a seat and strap in. Maybe you pace. Maybe you don’t sit at all, because sitting means accepting what’s coming.[/b] Around you, the Stormrider shudders like a wounded beast. The once-harmonic drone of its elemental engine becomes a rasping cough. Sparks blink from the walls like dying stars.

You feel altitude drop.

And drop again.

[hr]

[b]Then the descent begins in earnest.[/b]

[b][color=2F8C99]"All hands, brace for descent. The Stormrider is coming in hard...find a seat or a rail and hold tight. Medical attention will be standing by once we’re grounded. Stay clear of the cargo hold and let the crew do their job. This isn’t over yet."[/color][/b]

Wind howls past the hull like a scream too long held back. Lightning flashes...not from stormclouds, but from [i]inside[/i] the Stormrider, flaring against warding runes that shatter with each surge.

The vessel jerks violently left. You’re thrown against your seat, your harness, the nearest wall...wherever you are, wood and metal groaning around you, strained to breaking.

From the portholes or the deck itself, you see it: jagged islands below, framed by charcoal clouds and seething ocean.

The ship dives...hard...then banks up at the last second, the elemental core screeching in protest. A flash of flame bursts from the starboard engine as a support wing rips free and tumbles into the sea.

[b]The Stormrider slams into the shore.[/b]

You hear a sound like a god being stabbed...a metal-on-stone shriek as hull scrapes cliffside. A chunk of railing vanishes into the void. The impact hammers through your ribs like a war drum.

And then eventually… stillness.

Ash and salt choke the air. The world tilts unevenly, as if gravity itself hasn’t made up its mind. The deck beneath you is scorched, scattered with debris. Fires flicker. Somewhere, water hisses against burning steel.

You cough, you move, you check yourself for wounds. Somehow, you’re alive, and not as worse for ware as you might have feared.

[hr]

[b]Captain Cindralis’s voice returns, hoarse but controlled.[/b]

[b][color=2F8C99]"This is Cindralis. We made it. All passengers, report to the main deck. Watch your step...we’re in one piece, but only barely. We’ll assess the damage once we’re sure no one’s dying. Stormrider out."[/color][/b]

You rise.

Smoke drifts from the ruined engine. Ahead, the jagged coastline of the Principalities waits… and somewhere beyond the haze, movement. Watching.

Waiting.

[center][hr][/center][/color][/h3]

[h1][center][b][color=crimson]Welcome to Chapter One: Salt & Smoke[/color][/b][/center]
[center][i]Welcome to Port Verge[/i][/center][/h1]

[img]https://uploads.worldanvil.com/uploads/images/92dbbf8014ee9aa31620f3db56457f91.jpg[/img]