In my dreams, I still hear them. It was late Autumn, nearing Winter, and we were going on three months at sea. Our food stores had long been exhausted from damp, rot and thievery, our meager crew reduced to eating whatever moldy scraps we could rummage from the hold. Already half had died, and those who remained shuffled about the decks with vacant eyes and hollow chests. We had given up completely, resigned to die lost among the waves.
And then, out of the rising morning mist we spied them, the jagged, towering cliffs of cursed Wraeclast. A cheer went up among the men, some rubbing their eyes with disbelief. As we drew closer, the pounding roar of the surf drowned out our anxious chatter, and the forbidding, rocky wall drew ever larger. To our dismay, we found no port at water's edge, no cove to shelter our beleaguered vessel. "We head North, around the peninsula" the captain ordered, so we came about and set course.
Many hours of sailing brought only more misery and hunger, and by nightfall we were gripped with despair. Wraeclast was a fortress, as impenetrable as a stone prison. As night fell, we dropped anchor, and sought whatever comfort remained. The air grew quiet and still, the only sound the lapping of the waves against the hull. But then another sound joined in, soft, enticing, and insistent. At first we could not believe our hearing. How could there be women's voices out here, in this awful, desolate place? The men staggered to the railing, first peering out into the blackness and then calling to it. The voices returned our hail, rising as a chorus, beckoning us to them.
Within minutes, we had dropped rowboats into the water, and all who could summon the strength clambered aboard. Then we rowed like men possessed, towards the gentle, sweet voices ahead, their song drifting up from a yawning cave in the cliff side. We arrived at the entrance shivering and exhausted, yet nearly frenzied with need and desire. Oh the voices, the things they promised us! Disdaining caution, the whole of us dashed forward into the cave, the dark swallowing us up as readily as a serpent engulfing its prey. And the voices ceased.
There was a pause, a singular moment of clarity when we all knew our great folly. Then, a new voice pierced the air, this one sharp and strident, dripping with malevolence. It was all around us, hissing with delight, and hunger. Then the men began to shriek, their choking wails abruptly silenced by whatever beset us. I felt something cold, slimy and terribly strong coil itself around my throat, and I reacted on instinct. I pulled my dagger free, cutting wildly at the thing that grasped me, and somehow I was released! Abandoning all thought, I groped for the cavern's exit, and when I found it, I plunged headfirst into the surf, my own screams barely audible among those of my doomed crew mates. I was the only one who made it out of that hellish place.
Let my words be a warning to any who dare travel the shores of Wraeclast. The Siren's Daughters lie in wait there, ready to lure and devour whoever happens by. If you hear their sweet song on the ocean air, cover your ears and flee.