Dunsbrough Part 2
Posted on Thu Jun 19th, 2025 @ 2:46pm by René Rouen & Cassandra Lennox & Dmitri Volodin & Albert 'Bert' Smith & Bartholomew Addington
Edited on on Tue Aug 19th, 2025 @ 4:05pm
1,228 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Safe Harbour
Location: Dunsbrough
Timeline: 02 December 2012
The port of Dunsbrough was a quiet, timeworn place, pressed between the cold sea cliffs and the remains of what had once been a bustling fishing village. The harbour itself was modest—two short stone piers, slick with salt and seaweed, jutted out into the frigid water, enclosing a basin that now held only emptiness. The SeaSprite’s dinghy floated gently, its rope tied off to the nearest metal hook that groaned under even the slight tension.
The water inside the harbour was calm, a dull mirror of the overcast sky above. Seagulls wheeled lazily overhead, silent but for the occasional sharp cry, as if reluctant to disturb the stillness that blanketed the place. A small dockside shack beside the pier—its windows boarded, its door hanging open and swaying in the breeze which unnerved Bartholomew as he glanced inside. The roof had partially collapsed, and he instantly looked away from the remains inside.
“Body inside.” He warned seeing bite marks on the viable parts of the body which signified that there was at least at some point the undead there. Beside it stood an iron crane, probably once used to haul in nets or heavy cargo, now red with rust, leaning as if exhausted. Bart kicked at the handle and it at least moved which would be helpful if they needed to haul supplies down if the tide changed drastically.
René looked inside at the body. He made a sign of the cross and spoke a quiet prayer in French. He rejoined the others and looked to Bartholomew. "Where to first?"
"Not sure but seeing we have not had any trouble, we should get the others," Barholomew commented, raising his cold fingers to his lips and letting out a piercing whistle that travelled through the air until Cassandra heard it and signalled her own whistle back. "If the horn has not brought anyone to the shore, and neither has my whistle, I would say we are safe from the undead for now."
There had been a fresh covering of snow over night which would have removed and prints Bert had left over the past couple of days but fresh snow left a new problem, fresh prints. He knew it couldn't be helped and doubted the new comers were devoted church goers so hoped they wouldn't venture that far.
Bert slowly and carefully made his way down to the pier, realising he hadn't explored that far. Seeing nothing of use from a far he just didn't bother but now with the new comers arrival, was there something hidden down there.
He rolled his feet as quietly and gently as he could but the fresh snow still crunched slightly under his weight. He tried to keep his breath to a minimum as the temperature was probably barely above freezing.
Bert had moved closer as a larger ship came in and docked at the port. He really wished he could hear what was being said but getting closer would risk being seen. 'Why were they here? There must be something of value.' He thought to himself. A woman pulled herself up on to the pier and glanced around. 'Are they meeting someone?'
Cassandra hauled herself up as the boat finally docked and glanced around the small port. It had been many summers since she had been there, but it did not look that different, just so quiet. She paused as a feeling crept over her of being watched hit her. "Anyone else yet have the feeling that we are being watched?" She wondered, already readying one of her small metal arrows. They were the perfect weight and size for her crossbow thanks to Samuel's amazing work.
René gave a wary glance about the immediate area along the small harbour. Something felt off. They had made enough noise to attract the stray Soulless or living person already, so why wasn't there any kind of response. "Something isn't right."
Cassandra had the same opinion but just nodded. Something was certainly not quite right, and she could not shake the feeling of being watched as she took several steps along the dock. "Let's start looking in the usual places." She advised.
Dmitri stepped up and onto the dock, bow at the ready with an arrow nocked. He didn’t say anything at first. He focused on taking in the environmental clues…the sights, the sounds, the scents…or in this case, the lack of them. He’d never been here, but he trusted the others. If they said something was off, then it was off.
Next to him, Dobrya gingerly jumped onto the dock and began sniffing the air. Her head bobbed up and down as she worked the scent. The slight motion caught Dmitri’s peripheral vision, and he watched her work for a moment.
“I am not liking this either,” he said quietly. Dobrya began walking toward the town proper, still working the scent she’d picked up.
“We should be quick to…,” Dmitri started, but then stopped mid-sentence. He was looking down at Dobrya. She had taken a defensive, almost guarded, stance with her tail curled up atop her hindquarters. The dog’s gaze was locked straight ahead, and she started growling lowly.
Dmitri turned, slowly, to look at the others, and signaled with a finger in front of his lips for silence. To add emphasis, he then used that same finger to point to Dobrya’s current state.
René looked at Dmitri and then to the dog. He followed the dogs gaze and scanned for movement, any kind of sign as to what would put the dog on alert. He rested his hands on the hilts of his rapier and dirk, but hesitated in drawing them.
Beyond the harbour buildings rose the sloped street that led up into the rest of Dunsbrough. From this distance, only a handful of rooftops were visible—some missing tiles, others completely caved in. A lone church spire reached skyward above them. The wind carried a faint, metallic tang from inland.
Bartholomew stepped carefully on the slick dock. “Looks like no one’s been here in months,” he murmured.
"But let's move," Cassandra commented as she moved ahead of the pair who were standing by the dockside shack. There was no smoke from chimneys, no light in the windows. No sounds of life. Just the sea's whisper and the soft crunch of snow underfoot. And yet, the village felt watched. Not by people, necessarily—but by history. By silence. By the weight of something left behind and Cassandra hated every second of it.
Juliet joined Cassandra and glanced sideways at her. She could sense the tension coming of the others and it was making her nervous. "Should we divvy up the shopping list and and search the town in teams or stay together in a group?"
“Split up,” Cassandra said. If they wanted to get in and out before nightfall, they would need to. “Me and Rene will get the medical and you guys get the food.” She told them as they got to the edge of the pier and got a proper look up and down the front street.
René stepped up beside Cassandra as Juliet moved over to Dmitri and Bartholomew. Once the smaller teams were formed up they set off in different directions.
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