The Coast of Moerzang

You follow the coast path until it bends around a headland and the Coast of Moerzang reveals itself: a jagged line of broken cliffs against which a lead-gray sea batters without end. Between the rocks lie the carcasses of ships that never made it through. On a weathered jetty waits the woman who summoned you here, wrapped in an oilskin cloak—and she'll say nothing until the fog lifts and the dark comes down.

The truth arrives with the tide. The last three ships to round this coast went down in clear weather on a calm sea—impossible, unless something lured them onto the rocks. Down on the strand an old beachcomber with a wooden leg keeps watch by his little fire; he shares honestly whatever washes ashore, but he holds his tongue about the nights he saw lights moving beneath the water and heard a woman's voice carrying across the waves.

You comb the wrecks, question a village that lives a little too well off its "beach findings," and follow a compass that stubbornly points the wrong way—straight toward a drowned cave beneath the cliffs. Along the way it becomes painfully clear that not everyone wants the ships saved: the salvage is too lucrative, and someone ashore is splitting the spoils with whatever dwells in the deep.

In the cave you find the source: Moerzang, the Sea Witch, who uses a stolen beacon to sing the ships onto the reefs and binds their drowned crews to her will. Her voice carries across the water like a lure, and the drowned sailors rise to guard her. Before the next tide turns you must choose—destroy the beacon and drive Moerzang off, or leave the riches that keep the whole village standing. Wait too long, and the ship on the horizon is already hers.