This is the introduction to the world of Olympia.

This short story introduces Charon and the Ferry

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There beached upon the black sand lays the grey long boat; the wood grains shaped and dyed from time in the dark waters. Waves ripple at the river’s edge, liquid tainted too dark see the sandy bottom. Surrounding the boat is ominous fog blocking the vision of the river’s opposing shore. Footsteps are heard approaching the grey vessel; out from the fog appears what can be described as a hooded man proceeds to climb into the Ferry. His clawed feet clicking against the wooden boards. Once he enters the ship he reaches down into the boat and rises with a long oar in has clawed hand; the aged wood perfectly curved to his grip. The creature walks to the stern, turns around and pulls back the hood revealing a visage of a man that has lost his prime but has not begun reach frailty.

A creature shaped as a soldier, hands and feet of claws, grey hair and raggedy beard, one who captains a grey ferry, and the face of an aging man with four eyes. This creature is Charon the eternal ferryman. He taps the oar to the boat twice, the knocks echo across the beach; the sand shifts, the water ripples, and fog flees from the thunderous sound. He Places his free hand to face and announces, “All those wishing passage! Please, have your tokens ready!”

The retreating Fog reveals a frail old woman, wrapped in white linen; she slows approaches the ferry shivering with trepidation and cold. Charon smiles and approaches the woman never leaving the boat. Once she reaches the boat and gazes into his eyes she cries and tries to scream, her voice unable able to rise against the insurmountable fear. He laughs and with a deep voice speaks, “Do not fear me child, you have arrived.” His deep tones did little to sooth the woman’s panic, he places the oar done and reaches for the woman her fear rising but her body to frail to flee. Charon reaches under her arms and lifts her over the bow and proceeds to lower her on top of a seat. The woman standing on the seat is now eye level with the Ferryman. He is grinning and whispers, “Token?”

Tears running down the woman’s face her soul filled with fear; no coin in her hands, mouth, or upon her eyes. The woman lowers her head in shame and weeps. Charon closes his eyes and rest is brow upon hers; A soft glow radiates from the old woman, growing brighter, purer, and solid. The woman gasps and the light fills her breath. Her hair no longer grey has shifted to raven black, her body no longer frail, no skin no longer wrinkled, her tears dried as if they never were. Claim washes over her, leaving her standing in silent, ‘Aw’

Charon reaches down and retrieves his oar, stands tall and speaks, “Token accepted”. He returns to the stern and dips the oar into the water, the vessel rises and gently pulls from the shore. He turns to his passenger and says, “Rest your legs we have sometime before your destination.”