On the isolated isle of Harp Rock, the ancient liche Dalan Bahngrin continues the magical researches that occupied him while he was alive. Not a seeker of worldly power, nor of wealth, the ancient undead labors patiently at his endless magical studies. He prefers the solitude and privacy to be found on the storm-tossed island, where no man disturbs him. Occasionally, however, the undead magus requires something from the lands of men. His needs may be as modest as a few drams of quicksilver or as elaborate as a score of expendable slaves, but he prefers to fetch items from the mainland himself, rather than send the undead servants that attend his few needs on the island.
Dalan Bahngrin’s vessel is a decayed wreck, drawn from the briny mire and enmeshed in a field of magical power. A sickly reddish glow of unnatural magic plays over its hull. The ancient barque’s sails long gone, phosphorescent sheets of ectoplasmic residue flicker in their place. Phantoms of the ancient crew haul upon the lines and shout commands with voices that can barely be heard by the living.
The villagers that work the sea know that master of the burning ship will not be gainsaid. Whatever his demands, however strange or unreasonable, they must be obeyed, for his anger is as terrible as is his chilling visage. He offers gold and jewels to those who serve him well, but few accept, for all men know that to accept the gifts of the dead draws a man closer to death itself. Go to Comment
Two things come to mind. The first is that I like this 30, it has a good mixture of humor, makes for an interesting cros-section of merchantage, and my favorites are the superstitious magic-seller, the potion maker who cuts people off, and the paranoid cobbler.
The second thing is THANK YOU! I had 30 Merchants penciled down on my to write list. Marked off now. Go to Comment