A storm has been raging for almost three days straight, rain falls like sheets, and an icy wind batters a small seaside town in your game world; it's late September, but even for that time of year, the weather is unseasonably harsh.  It is so bitterly cold that even the thick fog that hangs in the air seems to be frozen, and the people huddle together in their homes, around fires that do little to banish indifferent chill.

The only people who venture outside are the boatswain, whose job is to ensure the rigging and the sails of the fishing vessels, the towns life's blood, is not utterly shredded by the battering storm.  Each ship has its boatswain, and some of the larger vessels even have more than one.  The homeless and those poor souls discarded by Eckwich Landing also make their homes on and around the docks.  So, despite the bitterness and fury of the storm, the port of that little town is still reasonably busy, dawn till dusk. 

On the fourth day, one of the boatswains is attending to his respective vessel's rigging when he spies a strange shape in the distance.  Straining his eyes to see through the fog, he manages to make out the shape of a vessel heading for the port, only there is something ominous about it, for it shows no lights, flies no colours and appears to have no sails.  As he watches, the strange vessel gets close and closer until he can better make out its shape.  It is enormous, three stories tall at least, with not a single mast, and it seems to glide across the water with unnatural ease, unburdened by the fog and the howling gale.  

Eventually, the strange ship comes close enough for the boatswain to make out some of its construction, and by the gods, it's made of bones.  The whole vessel, the entirety of its massive bulk, is made of bones.  The boatswain can't believe it, neigh, he refuses to believe it.  "It must be this damnable fog," he tells himself, "it's playing tricks on my eyes; perhaps it's the biting cold that has numbed my reasoning."

"Yes, that's it, it's nothing more than lack of sleep, after all a ship of bones  - that's impossible."  The boatswain shook his head as if trying to shake the false vision from his eyes, but each time he looked, that strange, ominous vessel was there still coming towards him, towards his home.  The boatswain saw true, and when the peculiar alien craft finally makes its way into the bay, mooring itself fast to the Long Pier, neither the boatswain nor any of those gathered there that day could deny the truth of it.  

After mooring itself to the pier, two great doors opened high in the ships hull, and a walkway descended, down which a group of enormous, heavily armed and armoured blueish grey men walked.  After taking up their positions, guarding the walkway, a much smaller, frail-looking figure descended.  This new figure was nothing like the big men; for one, it wore no armour and instead was clad only in a hooded robe so that all you could see of its form was long flowing white hair flowing down its chest, bare feet and a tail that swished back and forth.  Also, where the big men carried enormous and impressive looking weapons, the more petite figure carried only an ashen grey staff.

After the small figure had descended the walkway, they barked and order to the big men, in a voice that sounded almost childlike, upon which the commanded dutifully fell into rank and file on either side of the small one.  With one in front and one behind and a column either side, as though they were protecting the small figure, they marched off, disappearing into the fog.  Indeed, if their ship had not remained moored in the harbour, none would have believed that the strangers ever existed, for no trace of them could be found.

Despite the strangers having vanished into the fog, the stranger's ship remains, but even though they have tried, the townspeople can not board the ship to look for clues.  The closer they get towards the vessel, the deeper and stronger the sense of foreboding becomes.  Those who have managed to set foot on the walkway have fled in terror before making close to the vessels great doors.  

It is almost as if some ancient and terrible magic protects the vessel and keeps out intruders.  

What's worse, the storm still rages and is not showing any signs of giving up its fury.  Indeed, since the strange ship has moored in the harbour, even the bay's water has turned to ice.  The disposed of that made their homes on the docks are also going missing.  Something that does not overly concern the townspeople until mutilated corpses start showing up, drained of blood, with sigils and runes carved into them and their heads missing.  Cleaved off by some giant blade.  

Imagining that this seaside town exists in your world, how would the people react if they bore witness to such events?

Looking forward to reading how the people of everyone's different game worlds would react.

XD

They'd probably send messengers to get help from the more populated regions of Galoron, the main empire of my homebrew world. They'd also probably adopt weird superstitions to try to keep the killers away. If things escalate enough, they might even call in one of the four rulers of Galoron, each of which are powerful wizards who can teleport.

EDIT: Oh, and if it was the elves, who have their own little peninsula, they'd probably scour their forest for trespassers, enlisting the aid of the fey native to that area, or maybe even some treants.

The people would probably try to contact others for help, or at least spread info that something bad is happening, but I'd imagine the rest of the cities in my world would simply fortify themselves and not allow outsiders in. The human settlements might send some of their organizations to investigate.

Well, first off - cool story, that's an excellent opening!

Firstly, I would have expected the guards/militia/people of the town to confront the strangers. Being a fishing port as opposed to a trading one, I would expect at least some interaction with the strangers exiting the ship. My world is one highly traveled and as such is very diverse - there aren't many "pure dwarf" or "Pure Elf" places, though the rulers of cities might be of a specific type. As such, I'd expect someone to have attempted some communication - a goliath who works on the boats, perhaps, squaring off to block their path. Likely with bad results.

The homeless populace, assuming that there is any basis for the information trade in this place, would likely be following the newcomers and spying on them, ready to sell the information in exchange for money for food and a bed, or just to fuel their pixie dust addiction. They would not be likely to leave and truly disappear without somebody seeing, unless they can actually do that.

The storm would have them concerned, and after the arrival of a bone ship, it will prompt people with little to leave behind to abandon the town and move away. Anyone with relatives in other towns will likely move there, or send their families there to be safe whilst they tend the boat, which they need to survive. This would spread the news of the bone ship to nearby settlements and doubtless tempt in the curious, the virtuous and the greedy - sightseers, paladins and sellswords. 

When the bodies start arriving, there would certainly be mobs formed to try and find the culprits. The mobs would form in taverns, and then they would probably try to launch drunken attacks on the bone ship to get rid of it. They would cut the mooring ropes and attempt to push it out to sea - mob mentality can overcome fear. They would also likely try to set it aflame, throwing pots of oil at it and setting a torch to it. I'm guessing this wouldn't do much, but they'd try it!

Ultimately, some bounty hunter, withchunter, monster hunter or (as will probably be the case) adventuring party would be called in to sort the mess out. The town religions would claim it's the end times, if it fit at all, and twist the events to get more people through the doors of their temples. If there were a town hall, a good governing body would offer safe lodgings to the homeless. If not, then the criminal underworld would step in to offer them safety in mass lodgings in abandoned warehouses, in exchange for services rendered - stealing, getting information, sending messages - anything you need disposable, desperate people for. As such, the crime rate would rise even as the population dwindled.

The bodies clearly showing trauma from massive weaponry would undoubtedly spark a manhunt for the giants from the ship with their huge weapons. Enterprising (if cruel) individuals would start shadowing the homeless to use them as bait to find the culprits.

To summarise: those with places to go will leave. Those with nowhere to go will avoid going out. Those seeking to save the town will arrive, those seeking to profit from the situation will twist it to their advantage. Those who are scared will attack the ship. Those who are smart will try to find the culprits.

At first glance, that town largely lost its livelihood. It's like it's deep winter, so no harvesting and hunting is likely to have poor results, and this would be the time of year to be filling larders for the months to come. The bay is frozen and it's storming, so fishing is out too. Unless the town has somewhat convenient means of resupplying, I'd expect at least a partial exodus of people with connections in nearby cities and villages. The destitute and homeless would be dying from exposure or hunger already. The others might have to pool their supplies and impose rationing, assuming they have enough stock to last a few weeks in the first place - if not, that partial exodus would have all but the most stubborn folk trying to find salvation elsewhere if this unseasonal storm persists. That aside, urgent messages to the higher authorities - the mayor will seek to notify the baron or whoever else is in charge politically, a priest might turn to his or her order, and villagers with friends or relatives who could have some influence will try to contact those if the hardship doesn't show signs of letting up.   

In my world, they wouldn't. I have an evil goddess of storms and cold, so the weather would make sense, especially in Íss, a freezing island in the north. That's the only place that has a small enough town by the sea. Bone ships aren't that creepy or unusual there, and neither are killings. Sigils and runes is basically just the writing system, unless it's in one of the two other languages, but it still wouldn't be that unusual. They'd probably just think it was some kind of signature. Their reaction would be something along the lines of "Meh."

Pangurjan has it for any world reasonably similar to most dnd fantasy worlds (if the world is like modern Earth, so phones, refrigerators, and airplanes are widely available, everything is radically different) - the locals who don't flee will simply begin starving to death (definitely some will be too stubborn to leave) while anyone with a keener interest in living than staying in their home and also with the ability will leave town for somewhere they can credibly survive.  The refugees will bear the tale with them, so word will certainly get out, and the local nobility will be keenly interested to know their country has been invaded by an obviously hostile force - that storm alone would be an act of war even before you consider armed troops without any papers stepping on domestic soil and a ship that's warded against customs inspectors.  Ancient China would have a field day, for example.

Because the refugee diaspora is likely uncontrolled and going in many directions, it would be challenging for a specific noble to react in ways they're not supposed to - the secret is out - so most likely whichever noble is closest would either send a messenger to the king, muster their army and march to the town (particularly if they're very arrogant or greedy), or both.

Quote from TWForgeCleric >>

A storm has been raging for almost three days straight, rain falls like sheets, and an icy wind batters a small seaside town in your game world; it's late September, but even for that time of year, the weather is unseasonably harsh.  It is so bitterly cold that even the thick fog that hangs in the air seems to be frozen, and the people huddle together in their homes, around fires that do little to banish indifferent chill.

The only people who venture outside are the boatswain, whose job is to ensure the rigging and the sails of the fishing vessels, the towns life's blood, is not utterly shredded by the battering storm.  Each ship has its boatswain, and some of the larger vessels even have more than one.  The homeless and those poor souls discarded by Eckwich Landing also make their homes on and around the docks.  So, despite the bitterness and fury of the storm, the port of that little town is still reasonably busy, dawn till dusk. 

On the fourth day, one of the boatswains is attending to his respective vessel's rigging when he spies a strange shape in the distance.  Straining his eyes to see through the fog, he manages to make out the shape of a vessel heading for the port, only there is something ominous about it, for it shows no lights, flies no colours and appears to have no sails.  As he watches, the strange vessel gets close and closer until he can better make out its shape.  It is enormous, three stories tall at least, with not a single mast, and it seems to glide across the water with unnatural ease, unburdened by the fog and the howling gale.  

Eventually, the strange ship comes close enough for the boatswain to make out some of its construction, and by the gods, it's made of bones.  The whole vessel, the entirety of its massive bulk, is made of bones.  The boatswain can't believe it, neigh, he refuses to believe it.  "It must be this damnable fog," he tells himself, "it's playing tricks on my eyes; perhaps it's the biting cold that has numbed my reasoning."

"Yes, that's it, it's nothing more than lack of sleep, after all a ship of bones  - that's impossible."  The boatswain shook his head as if trying to shake the false vision from his eyes, but each time he looked, that strange, ominous vessel was there still coming towards him, towards his home.  The boatswain saw true, and when the peculiar alien craft finally makes its way into the bay, mooring itself fast to the Long Pier, neither the boatswain nor any of those gathered there that day could deny the truth of it.  

After mooring itself to the pier, two great doors opened high in the ships hull, and a walkway descended, down which a group of enormous, heavily armed and armoured blueish grey men walked.  After taking up their positions, guarding the walkway, a much smaller, frail-looking figure descended.  This new figure was nothing like the big men; for one, it wore no armour and instead was clad only in a hooded robe so that all you could see of its form was long flowing white hair flowing down its chest, bare feet and a tail that swished back and forth.  Also, where the big men carried enormous and impressive looking weapons, the more petite figure carried only an ashen grey staff.

After the small figure had descended the walkway, they barked and order to the big men, in a voice that sounded almost childlike, upon which the commanded dutifully fell into rank and file on either side of the small one.  With one in front and one behind and a column either side, as though they were protecting the small figure, they marched off, disappearing into the fog.  Indeed, if their ship had not remained moored in the harbour, none would have believed that the strangers ever existed, for no trace of them could be found.

Despite the strangers having vanished into the fog, the stranger's ship remains, but even though they have tried, the townspeople can not board the ship to look for clues.  The closer they get towards the vessel, the deeper and stronger the sense of foreboding becomes.  Those who have managed to set foot on the walkway have fled in terror before making close to the vessels great doors.  

It is almost as if some ancient and terrible magic protects the vessel and keeps out intruders.  

What's worse, the storm still rages and is not showing any signs of giving up its fury.  Indeed, since the strange ship has moored in the harbour, even the bay's water has turned to ice.  The disposed of that made their homes on the docks are also going missing.  Something that does not overly concern the townspeople until mutilated corpses start showing up, drained of blood, with sigils and runes carved into them and their heads missing.  Cleaved off by some giant blade.  

 

Imagining that this seaside town exists in your world, how would the people react if they bore witness to such events?

Looking forward to reading how the people of everyone's different game worlds would react.

XD

 I do know how two of my characters would react to this.

Gauthak (my goliath barbarian with the strangest backstory Ive come up with yet) and Daniel (my favorite character ive ever made, being a chaotic good protector Aaismar Draconic sorcerer, my favorite combination) would both attempt to board the ship, Gauthak loving it when stuff gets foreboding because that normally means he's about to fight, and Daniel just happy he has something to do for the day.