Littlewind

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.

Sights, Sounds & Smells
Sights Sounds Smells
 * Bright blue sand
 * Bright 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
 * The wash of the tide upon shingle
 * Coastal winds bustling the air
 * Call and whistle of various residents
 * Crackle and spit of fish fat over open fires
 * Fish
 * Salt
 * A bright freshness buffeted upon the winds
 * Peppery embers from seaweed fires

Local Economy
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.

Imports
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.

Exports
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.

Lodgings & Shelter
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.

Hierarchy & Political Structure
“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.

Culture
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.

Some Adventure Hook Ideas

 * Something enormous, and ancient, lurks beneath the waters of the Bay, and the Villagers have a long-ago-struck bargain with it.
 * The dark-blue sands contain a substance that is attracting the attentions of nefarious outsiders.
 * The Ditton is not quite as she seems; and some swear her form begins to change to something else quite different once the tide meets her form.
 * With unusual regularity ships seem to find trouble in the nearby seas, their cargos inevitably ending up on the shores of the village.

Random encounter table
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
Shall'hamma Osterlay (Ditton) 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. Brash'bolla Grovenskar (Shaper) 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. Thal'bronna (Larderer) 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. Ayleth'abbar Skriventak (Fisher) 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.