Littlewind
Blue Sands & Bioluminescence
A sharply salt speckled spray brings bright buffeting winds to welcome the weary Traveller across the rolling Seaberry Downs where, beyond a cerulean sanded, sun strewn winding approach to this tightly-nestled crescent bay, there lay the ocean-side Village of Littlewind.
Beneath that cloudless sky the eye is quickly filled with bone bleached, tide-worn timbers, innumerable gently bobbing jetties, clumsily crowded crab pot stacks, sails, and leaning oars.
Low spiralling rooftops of lichen shimmering limestone shale are lazily draped with tumbled loops of hempen rope, coiled as though some barnacle encrusted octopi clambered ‘pon a stormy eve to shore long ago for sun-filled rest and slumber, happily evermore.
Taking the many-planked paths through Littlewind, the Traveller finds bright seaweeds tied to every door, racks of spiced squid and peppered snapper spit hot-smoked embers in which, too, bake charred rye-breads.
In the hours of sun the men-folk of the Village awake and are at work, their tanned cheeks brightly worn, ruddy and creased with always wide smiles that spill to gently whispered shanties, welcoming and blesséd, as they toil to keep the walkways immaculate and clear for the spirits of their mothers, daughters, and sisters lost at sea to find their way home once more.
Come the setting sun, the woman-folk awake to gather each crab scattered bounty of flotsam brought ashore, or to pluck giant barnacles and whelks for the Village larder.
Many more, still, swim oft and dive deeply to harvest the kaleidoscopic corals that begin, at dusk, to pulse, to throb and glow in shades of vivid saffron, cerulean, cerise, and vermillion, as though they yearn to be found and brought up to the shore.
The men-folk keep well away from the water; for what lingers there will take their legs for feasting, their eyes shucked like oysters, and foul eggs be then laid in their sockets.
So the men tend to the shore-dragged boats, to netting forever in need of a mend, or to endlessly painting the moon whose likeness is everywhere here; upon walls and pots and sails and cloth for smocking, tattooed upon arms, backs or skulls ...
Indeed, if one were to take flight with the olrog-gulls and peer downwards, then all of Littlewind would appear as a mirror to the night sky; of whorled constellations and tumbling stars, framed as though the crescent moon had cast its luminescent net at the ocean’s edge of cerulean sands, to frame its glittering resplendence forever more.
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A remote and isolated coastal-village, with a host of ancient sea-faring, bioluminescent traditions trod carefully across its blue sands.
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Use this section as a quick reference during play, or at the start of a Session to refresh your GM senses!
Sights
Bright blue sandBright blue and ethereal green corals glowing in the shallows and the depths
Crab & Lobster pots piled high
Stacks of driftwood
Piles of fishing nets; a jumble of line and cork floats
Mounds of rounded pebbles and sea-glass
Sounds
The wash of the tide upon shingleCoastal winds bustling the air
Call and whistle of various residents
Crackle and spit of fish fat over open fires
Smells
FishSalt
A bright freshness buffeted upon the winds
Peppery embers from seaweed fires
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Littlewinders partake neither in trade nor barter with one another; instead they gather fruits from the Seaberry Downs, and fish from the sea, housing any surplus within deep, cold stores dug beneath the Village.
Each family receives their weekly issuance of everything they will need; no-one is missed, and none go without.
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Much of what is needed here is provided by the ocean, either that which is caught there or that which washes ashore upon the blue sands bordering the Village.
Littlewinders do, however, rely on sporadic deliveries of cloth; hemp and cotton, for the most part, from which they fashion their clothing, their bedding and their sails.
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Salted and smoked fish attracts a regular flow of sea-bound Merchants, who anchor their craft in the bay awaiting the women-folk who bring their crates to greet them.
What really attracts the traveller and merchant alike, however, are the strange glowing bounties of the sea that abound here; bio-luminescent, coral-like creatures that, once the sun sets, come alive with an unearthly glow filling the night with mellow hues of many colours.
Each fetches a different price, and the locals guard their harvesting sites closely.
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Strange spiral-like structures, with a winding path that turns anti-clockwise into the centre where the main social-hub of the home is located.
It is here one finds the large, open kitchen, and the main living quarters, where people sit about an ever burning fire long into the night telling stories of the sea and of the land, of the night sky and the worlds below and beyond.
The walls are constructed from large, rounded pebbles, the driftwood frame rooftops overlaid with moss and samphire, providing insulation and sustenance.
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“the Ocean, our Mother, each of us from the Mother born, as each of us shall to the Ocean return.”
Littlewind’s matriarchy leans strongly upon the bonds of motherhood and the sea.
A “Ditton”, or village elder, oversees all, and is the only woman in Littlewind called by the title, “Mother.”
Dittons are known for their great prowess in sailing and before being considered for the position, must have shown themselves capable of rounding, and returning from, a nearby Island whose waters and cliffs are famously treacherous; an Island, some say, that oft’ rises and falls just as the tides do.
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Rich with confusing tales and strange legends of spirits; fish and folk that wander the shore, that beckon from the ocean, and whisper in the salt-sprayed air.
Among these stories are warnings; that men-folk should never approach the cobalt sands, that if the briefest hint of their essence meets the forewash, then perilous disasters shall follow, brought to shore by a devilish creature the Littlewinders call, “Foul Bowbrie”.
To keep this creature afar, those awake at the high-sun of the day sit together to eat, their backs to the sea, sharing only happy news and joyful stories, reconfirming their familial bonds as they do so.
Everyone in Littlewind brings something they have prepared, and everyone shares in what is offered, just as the ocean does for all each day.
The alert Traveller will also note an absence of animals, either domestic or wild, and the people here wear nothing in the way of furs or leathers.
Some histories suggest this is in some way inextricably linked to the harvesting of the bioluminescent creatures from the sea, but no outsider has discovered how, or why, this should be so.
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This list is by no means exhaustive, and is intended simply to stir the pot of your own imagination.
Use what follows as starting-points, or ignore them entirely in favour of your own Adventure Hooks!
Roll 1d4 or choose from the Table below :
1 - Something enormous, and ancient, lurks beneath the waters of the Bay, and the Villagers have a long-ago-struck bargain with it.
2 - The dark-blue sands contain a substance that is attracting the attentions of nefarious outsiders who offer substantial amounts of coin to the Party for their assistance.
3 - The Ditton is not quite as she seems; her form begins to change to something else quite different once the tide meets her body. A religious order holds this as enacting a prophecy, and they Party is hired to retrieve the Ditton.
4 - With unusual regularity ships seem to find trouble in the nearby seas, their cargos inevitably ending up on the shores of the village. A merchant Guild hires the Party to investigate.
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ROLL 1d8 FOR A BRINY DELIGHT :
1 - Chillied Oysters ~ fiery enough to ignite the breath of even the coldest temperament.
2 - Pickled Mackerel ~ perhaps hold your nose before you take a bite.
3 - Cod’s Liver Minced & Baked ~ for those that avoided the Chillied Oyster, never fear, for a great many are here within the sauce, along with butter and rye-breadcrumbs.
4 - Eel Pie ~ served cold, and with generous mugfuls of warm beer to wash down the jelly.
5 - Grilled Sprats ~ smoky, peppery, gritty and delicious.
6 - Bonfired Octopus Tentacle ~ sprayed with lemon and wild garlic shoots, and served in a giant (empty) crab shell.
7 - Steamed Crab ~ in such abundance, the Traveller shall groan should ever they hear the word “crab” again.
8 - Fish Eyes ~ an assortment, and always available to snack on.
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ROLL 1d20 for a LITTLEWIND TRINKET
1 - A Crab claw with a small dead bird locked in its grip.
2 - A perfectly round pebble.
3 - The barbed tip of a fishing spear.
4 - A small phial of red sand that boils when brought close to the blue sands of Littlewind.
5 - A jarful of (apparently aware) fish eyes.
6 - A miniature replica of ship's bell.
7 - A pocket-flask half full of bitter alcohol.
8 - A gull-feather that doubles in size every new moon.
9 - A leather pouch full of variously glowing fishing hooks.
10 - A pocket-book ledger keeping track of a ship's wages.
11 - A small wicker pot full of seemingly endless twine.
12 - A flask of fish oil that glistens with a rainbow hue.
13 - A lantern that glows with a green light.
14 - A miniature pocket portrait of a herring.
15 - An oilskin hat all a-shimmer with fish-scales.
16 - A tobacco tin full of a strange herb that, when burnt, attracts jellyfish.
17 - A fist-sized lump of razor-sharp coral.
18 - An ornately carved shell that catches the light in a most curious fashion - it also, quite literally, catches light.
19 - A whale-tooth whistle.
20 - A pouch of glistening sea-weed that glows brightly at the hours of dusk and dawn.
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Roll 1d6 for a Littlewind Encounter or choose from the Table below :
1 - Rocks from the cliffs along the blue-sanded shore have begun crashing into the waters below, sinking to the ocean floor, and then exploding.2 - Merchants, from a Cutter anchored in the Bay, have snuck ashore in the middle of the night.
3 - A Giant-Crab is tearing through the Village.
4 - Sea-birds are falling from the sky.
5 - The Ditton has vanished, and their upturned boat is ablaze.
6 - A Village-child has stolen a canoe, and is attempting to round the Ditton-Isle.
Residents of Note:
ancestries have not been allocated, allowing the GM to assign as appropriate.
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Dressed in shimmering, cascading fabrics of sea-worn silk and linen upon which many small, dented brass bells are stitched. Shall’hamma rarely speaks.
Her face is heavily tattooed, and her bright green eyes sparkle with a mischievousness that is passed in whispers to those closest to her. She is quick with a dagger, but clumsy with a knot.
She does not eat when others do, and she does not have a spiral-stoned-abode of her own; sleeping instead beneath an upturned boat far along the blue sands of the beach.
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The finest maker of sails in Littlewind works tirelessly, his one good eye always wide, his gull-plucked other forever squinting.
Clad in tar stained trousers, a wide brimmed, oily hat upon his head, he is often found upon a squat, 3-legged stool, barefoot and shirtless so that all may better regard the strange and contorted Red Bear tattooed across the entirety of his back.
He growls in delightful homage to this bear when children wander near, and gifts flowers to their mothers at dusk; flowers he cherishes and tends to with much care.
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A coral scarred face, as though scrubbed with a wire brush, and missing several fingers, they seem an unwelcoming and sour sort, at first, and one with a liking for strong whiskies that wash often ashore, of which they can drink by the barrel-load without so much as a stagger.
Outsiders might paint them as measly or mean-spirited, but the locals prize Bronna for their unwavering ability to remain utterly impartial when attending to their duties.
They are the tallest in Littlewind, wearing a long frock-coat with many hidden pockets, and one foot carved from a whale-bone, which they'll use to quickly shin-kick any unwelcome who try to enter the recesses of the Larder Stores.
Thal’bronna is also the only Villager who walks in both sun, and moon, light - able to pass across the blue sands, and into the waters of the sea.
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As the strongest swimmer in the village, Ayleth commands much respect.
Perhaps from the enormous scar she wears with pride across her torso, or from the questioning scowl forever worn across her face, many in the Village are easily intimidated by Ayleth’abbar.
None will speak against her, or about her, unless in taught whispers and then only when she is away from the blue sands and deep beneath the waters of the ocean to which she departs until near dawn.
