I wasn’t going to start another Finding Tolrendor series on this trip. This was a holiday cruise across the Atlantic, and not the ‘creative adventuring’ solo trips I embarked on over the summer. But apparently the part of my brain that turns places and experiences into pieces of a fantasy world can’t easily be switched off.

I’m not entirely sure what changed this: maybe it was the ‘adventure’ aspect of a one-way cruise from Europe to the Americas, rather than a circular island-hopping itinerary; maybe it was the first two port stops that brought to life the many-layered elements of history that inspire me so much, or the feeling you get when land is slipping away in the wake of the ship each evening.

Over the years I’ve been creating Tolrendor, seafaring has always been an important theme for me. Squadrons of galleys darting across the Inner Sea, reavers a-reaving across the northern coasts, merchant cogs struggling under heavy loads, pirates and corsairs, underwater empires, demon-fleets on the horizon – these images have always been a staple part of my fantasy imaginings, so it’s probably not that strange that a sea voyage should trigger my creative juices.

Of course, I’m not taking on anything remotely ‘adventurous’ – I’m on a 3,000-person cruise ship with everything I could possibly need, and an expert crew to get me across the sea with no stress at all – but with eight sea days to enjoy, there’s plenty of time and opportunity for my imagination to roam.

So here it is, another instalment on the ‘Finding Tolrendor…’ theme. I’m not promising any schedule, but you can expect the normal structure of these posts: something encountered on the journey inspires a glimpse of Tolrendor, and the world-building thoughts that follow from this.

Passing Trafalgar

Early on the morning of 3 November, the ship passed through the Strait of Gibraltar, exiting from the Mediterranean and entering the Atlantic Ocean. Not long after, I caught a glimpse of Cape Trafalgar.

On 21 October 1805, off this coastline, the British fleet under Admiral Nelson intercepted and decisively defeated the combined French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar. Nelson lost his life in the battle, but the victory helped secure Britain’s naval supremacy and its ability to project power overseas throughout the following century.

Looking out across that stretch of water, in the early morning light, it was easy to start imagining another fleet, off another coast, waiting for a battle that would leave its mark on a very different world.

The Battle of Cape Haven

The wind had died at dawn.

That was the first omen.

The second was the silence of the gulls.

By midday, the enemy fleet had begun to emerge from beyond Cape Haven, its black sails stretched taut against a wind that no living sailor could feel. Teren tried to count them. Before he reached twenty, more had emerged from the haze. He glanced along the Samite line, then back towards the cape.

There were too many.

He stood beside the forward ballista, one hand resting on its frame. Fifteen years under arms: seven in the Ballista Corps on the Gorak Wall, then eight as a marine aboard the Samite galleys that controlled the Inner Sea. He knew the standards approaching them. He had watched them gather beyond the Wall.

He had never seen so many at sea.

The ship’s mage stood on the raised deck aft, one hand pressed against the amber stone set into his staff. Its light brightened, then faltered.

“The seams are disturbed,” he said.

Teren tightened his grip on the timber.

The leading enemy vessel emerged from the haze, its prow carved into the likeness of a crowned skull. Beneath its black canvas hung rows of shields, each bearing the same pale sigil.

The demon fleet of Gorak.

Then came the drums.

Slow, measured beats carried across the water. Teren felt them through the deck beneath his feet.

“Stand to your weapons!”

The Samite rowing drums answered. Oars dipped along the line, and the galley surged forward. Around Teren, the ballista crews bent to their winding handles. Archers took their places on the fighting platforms. Marines gathered along the rails, shields raised and spears ready.

His loader settled a bolt into the groove.

Ahead, the crowned skull rose and fell upon the swell. Teren braced himself against the ship’s movement and adjusted his aim.

“Loose!”

He struck the release.

The ballista kicked against its mount. For an instant he could follow the bolt, a dark line racing low over the water.

Then the sea erupted.

Clawed limbs broke the surface. Winged shapes dragged themselves from the waves and rose streaming into the air. Between the fleets, the water churned with bodies.

“Wind!” Teren shouted.

His crew threw their weight against the handles. He reached for another bolt.

Arrows passed overhead. A flare of Samite war-magic caught one of the creatures as it rose, throwing its burning body back into the sea. Another skimmed towards them, low enough that its wings struck spray from the wave crests.

The catch clicked into place.

Teren lowered the bolt into its groove.

Behind him, the mage cried out.

Amber light washed across the deck. Teren glanced aft and saw the mage gripping his staff with both hands, a brilliant beam rising from its stone into the sky. Another answered farther down the line. Then another.

A sound like a vast bronze bell rolled across the water.

Beyond the outermost galley to port, the air split open.

A curtain of amber light hung above the sea. Through it burst a silver dragon, its wings opening wide enough to cast the galley beneath it into shadow. A robed rider leaned forward upon its back.

Lightning tore through the creatures above the water. For a heartbeat, Teren saw every wing and outstretched claw outlined against the glare.

To starboard, a second curtain opened.

A white prow slipped through, slender and gleaming. Then another. Silver sails filled with a wind that stirred neither the Samite banners nor the hair against Teren’s brow. The newcomers spread into formation, volleys already rising from their decks towards the black-sailed ships.

Someone behind him began to cheer.

Teren turned back to his weapon. The winged creature was still coming, skimming through the smoke.

This time, his hands were steady.

The Elven Navy had arrived.

World-building Notes

The scene above describes the opening stages of the Battle of Cape Haven, just south of the Teeth of Gorak, when the combined forces of the Samite Empire, the Conclave of the Amber Pentacle and the Elven Navy destroyed the demon fleet of Gorak.

This battle was fought about 20 years after the catastrophic breach of the Gorak Wall, when the Demon Lord Hithgrayn believed he had the upper hand in the centuries-long war, and was looking to extend his power outside the realm of Gorak.

As it turned out, his hubris was to prove his downfall.

Realising that the Gorak Wall could not hold Hithgrayn penned forever, the Imperial Arcance and the Conclave were plotting the audacious attack on the inner sanctum of the Demon Lord which led to his final defeat and banishment behind the Seal of Gorak.

The sailing of the Demon fleet was supposed to destroy Samite naval power and launch the demon hordes across the Inner Sea and into the Samite heartlands – the defeat both stopped this happening, and gave the Mages of Samos the opening they needed.

Whilst Hithgrayn was consumed with his ill-fated naval adventure, a small group of imperial agents slipped into Gorak unnoticed and brought the Seal into the Demon Lord’s inner sanctum, triggering the massive arcane battle that banished him and his hordes from Tolrendor forever … or at least until the last Mage-Emperor’s own folly undid his predecessors’ heroic work…

What I love about this small passage and lore is the many snippets of history it touches on, which provide lots of hooks for ‘present-day’ Tolrendor adventuring:

• The Order of the Amber Pentacle as a mysterious and ancient Bright Order still in existence and tied up in many great events of the Ages
• The Seal of Gorak and the later fall of the Samite Empire
• The naval traditions of the Samite Empire that might still echo in the maritime culture of the Inner Sea
• The Elven Navy as a force in the Inner Sea, represented by the present-day Sea-Lord of Mirranor

That’s the sort of world-building I enjoy most: following one scene far enough to find the connections. A battle off Cape Haven leads back to the fall of the Gorak Wall, forward to the fate of the Samite Empire, and out into traditions and rivalries that adventurers might still encounter centuries later. There’s plenty there to return to, even after the fleets have vanished from the horizon.

And all of that from catching a glimpse of a cape on the way out of the Mediterranean.

For now, our own ship carries on across the Atlantic, with rather less need for ballistae or emergency assistance from the Elven Navy. I wasn’t planning another Finding Tolrendor series, but there’s still a lot of sea ahead of us. Apparently, there’s quite a bit of Tolrendor out here too.