FLOTSAM AND JETSAM
In the days that followed Skald’s arrest and the revelations of Father Feres, life settled into the monotony and tedium that accompany a prolonged journey at sea. Anwar quickly grew bored of toying with the passengers aboard the Sea Wyvern. They made absurdly easy targets. By the third day out of Tashluta, the bard had set out for the Blue Nixie, ostensibly to discuss the long term plans for Farshore with Lavinia, but his colleagues knew better.
Thrisp took to patrolling the ship from hold-to-deck, and bow-to-stern on a daily basis. During these searches, he used his magic to seek out invisibly hidden people or things, and to look for magical auras. He was still troubled about the turn of events with Skald, and secretly suspected that the cook, Abigail was still onboard and was the one responsible for the mephit attack. Still, his efforts proved fruitless.
Marius had no such concerns. He found himself becoming more and more interested in what they might find when the reached the Isle of Dread. As a Seeker, his ambitions lay towards the uncovering of ancient antiquities. Urol Forol had stated, on more than one occasion and to whomever would listen, that he had been to the island before. Therefore, Marius passed the time in conversation with the gnome, though he had to endure endless lectures about the fascinating flora and fauna of the island, especially the various poisonous vermin that could be found there. It seemed the little druid had a keen interest in natural toxins. Ultimately, the war mage uncovered very little useful information. Urol would only say that his previous visit was “unfortunately short…due to events beyond my control, I might add! We’ve certainly nothing to fear this time around!” One item the gnome did let slip, however, was that Lavinia had promised to drop anchor near the infamous Tamoachan ruins en route, and he was very anxious to explore them. Marius smiled at this. Ruins always meant ancient treasures.
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Near the end of the first week, Basil took ill one night after the evening meal. At first this seemed like nothing more than a bit of gastric discomfort…seasickness even, but by the next evening the young wizard was violently ill, to the point of dehydration. As the only one with any real healing skills on board, Thrisp asked Urol to take a look at the mage.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d been poisoned,” the druid announced after a cursory examination. “But there’s one sure way to find out.” He began chanting a spell, passing his hands over Basil, and over the remains of his meal as he did so.
“Yep, it’s poison alright,” he said when he was finished.
‘You would know,’ Marius thought to himself, but kept his suspicions to himself. After that, Thrisp made it a point to monitor the food preparation daily, and then have Urol cast his same spell before each meal, just to be certain. Basil recovered, and no further incidences occurred, yet Thrisp’s paranoia only grew.
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Thirteen days out from Tashluta, the ships reached the small settlement of Fort Blackwell. The walled town had a tiny harbor, and was independently governed, unlike many of the other forts along the Chultan peninsula, which were controlled by the Rundeen. As the ships entered the cove, they were greeted by skiffs bearing members of the city guard, insisting they be allowed to search the vessels and interview the captains. This was carried out in a fairly cursory manner, and both caravels were admitted without incident.
Most of the passengers and crew, including the Legionnaires, disembarked to stretch their legs and see the sights, though to the more urbane, there wasn’t much of the latter. The only excitement that occurred was when Skald was officially handed over to the priests of Torm who ran a small shrine in the town. The ranger continued to profess his innocence, even as he was escorted away. Father Feres went with the priests, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at Anwar as he did so. The next morning, however, the cleric returned and the ships weighed anchor.
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Dawn on the first day out of Fort Blackwell found Sepoto and Samson sparring on deck while most of the other passengers and crew, including their comrades, still slept. One exception was Tavey Nesk, who watched the two warriors in amazement and wonder. At that moment, the goliath and the dragon shaman found themselves jarred, momentarily losing their footing, as the ship struck something, or vice versa. The tremor passed as quickly as it came, but as Sepoto approached the port side rail, there was another jolt. Peering over the side, the crusader was stunned to see a huge shark, fully twenty feet long, battering the hull and tearing at the boards with its teeth. It wouldn’t take long before the beast managed to hole them.
In the common bunk room the Legion shared one deck below, Thrisp woke from his meditation at the impact that sounded as if it came from right on the other side of the wall against which he slept. Peering out the porthole on that side, he too saw the shark…up close and personal, for it was barely five feet below his vantage. Quickly, the gnome woke Marius and Basil and sent the two mages hurrying for the deck. Thrisp then poked one hand tentatively out the porthole and spoke the words to a spell. A blinding surge of color exploded into the leviathan and it thrashed back and forth in the water, temporarily unable to see.
Meanwhile on deck, Samson had joined Sepoto at the railing, and at the same time Thrisp unleashed his magic, the dragon shaman opened his mouth, spewing a caustic spray of acid down at the beast, pitting its tough hide with smoking craters. By this time Basil had reached the deck. He came up quickly behind Sepoto and said in the goliath’s ear, “Do you want to fly?” Briefly, the goliath remembered an eccentric priest of Grumbar who had once visited his village when he was a boy. He shook his head in amusement, recalling how the villagers had laughed and thrown stones at the zealot as he admonished them against the evils of flying and swimming.
“Sure,” he said chuckling. Basil wasn’t sure what the source of his amusement was, but the wizard cast his spell nonetheless. Sepoto immediately took to the air, diving towards the shark, his chain a whirling blur. He struck the monster’s back, nearly severing its dorsal fin. In agony, but with its vision slowly returning, the shark breached, lunging for the hovering goliath and taking a sizeable chunk out of his calf. However, this was exactly what Sepoto’s companions had been waiting for. As the beast rose above the water’s surface, Samson hurled a flask of alchemist fire, shattering it against the shark’s nose. Simultaneously, Marius loosed twin rays of flame, which turned to scalding steam as they struck the great fish. Finally, a blast of rainbow light from Thrisp’s porthole caused the man-eater to roll drunkenly on its side.
“Smile you sonofa…!” shouted Basil as he loosed a volley of Magic Missiles straight into the shark’s jaws, blowing its head apart.
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The night of the shark attack on the Sea Wyvern, two things happened. The first was that Thrisp, while inventorying his belongings, discovered that the scrolls and the map that he and Anwar had taken from Feres were missing. Frantically he rummaged through the entire room, but turned up nothing. He had made it a point to keep the documents on his person in case Feres grew bold and attempted to recover them. He tried to think back to when he’d seen them last. Then it came to him. Fort Blackwell. He’d had them when he left the ship, but couldn’t recall seeing them again since. They must have been taken some time after they’d docked, but by whom? And why?
The second event occurred later, after most of the ship’s compliment had already bedded down for the night. Samson was alone topside, save for Amella, who stood her usual post at the wheel. He heard a soft footfall behind him, and when he turned he saw that it was Lirith Veldirose. The girl smiled coyly as she approached.
“A lovely night, isn’t it?”
Samson, always a pragmatist, shrugged. “I hadn’t really noticed. I was just trying to get a feel for the winds and the tide. We might make better time tomorrow, if I judge correctly.”
Lirith laughed. “What difference does that make, silly? We’re going to be at sea for three months. Three long months.” She paused for a moment, her eyes looking into his. “It can get awfully lonely after awhile.”
“The ships pretty crowded,” Samson replied. “There’s always someone to talk to.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Lirith whispered, moving closer to the dragon shaman. “Do you have…anyone?” she asked.
“I don’t follow you,” Samson said blandly.
“You know,” she teased. “Do you have a woman? Someone back in Tashluta?”
Samson shook his head. “All of my family was killed when I was still a boy.”
“You poor thing!” Lirith gasped, running her fingers down his arms. “You must be so alone! I could…keep you company. Do you get my meaning?”
Samson let a whisper of a smile show on his normally blank face. “I think so, but I wouldn’t want to upset Avner. He seems a bit high-strung as it is.”
A scowl marred Lirith’s pretty face. “Who cares about that fool? He’s just a diversion.”
“I see,” Samson nodded. “Well, I’m not looking for any diversions just now.”
Lirith back away several steps. “Are you sure?” she asked with a sly look in her eye. She then began a slow dance, moving gracefully and seductively in the moonlight. She seemed very experienced for one so young. Samson found himself watching her intently for a moment, but then turned away, shaking his head.
“I’m flattered,” he said, “but I’d best turn in for the night.”
Lirith’s face darkened, anger flashing in her eyes. “Fool!” she spat. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like girls? You’ll regret this!” She turned on her heel, and stalked off across the deck.
“I did like the dance, though!” Samson called after her, flipping a gold coin in her direction.
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It was several days later when Thrisp realized he’d not seen Feres on deck in quite awhile. The priest had missed all three meals that day, which was quite unlike him. Thrisp was already more than a bit suspicious of the man, suspecting that he had something to do with the disappearance of the map and scrolls. Gathering the other members of the Legion, he descended to the passenger’s quarters, where he found the cleric lying in his hammock. His skin was flushed, and he appeared delirious, moaning and complaining that the world had grown too bright and soft around the edges.
“Get Urol,” the gnome snapped at Marius. When the druid arrived, he gasped at the condition Feres was in.
“What’s happened to him?” he asked, concerned.
Basil was busy examining the priest, but he looked up at this. “We were hoping you could tell us. Is he poisoned?”
Urol looked uncertain. “It doesn’t seem like any toxin I’m familiar with,” he answered, “but I can tell like I did before.” When Thrisp nodded, Urol spoke the words to his spell and stared intently at Feres for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s not poison. I’m not sure what it is.”
“I think this might have something to do with it,” Basil announced. He had been palpating the priest’s abdomen, and when he stood back the others could see a pulsating mass beneath the skin there.
“What in the Abyss is that?” Thrisp whispered.
“I don’t know,” Basil answered quietly, “but it feels…alive.”
“Stand back!” Thrisp commanded, and when the others complied, he closed his eyes, murmuring a spell as he concentrated. He reached out with his mind, first attempting to touch the thoughts of Feres. They were just as jumbled and chaotic as his words were. Next, Thrisp tried to probe at the mass. Immediately, he recoiled in revulsion, his eyes snapping open.
“It’s alive alright,” he said, his breathing rapid, “and it’s hungry! Quick, let’s get him on deck!”
The company hurried topside, Samson and Sepoto bearing the stricken priest between them, and laying him down next to the main mast.
“What’s this then?” Amella shouted from the wheel. “What’s happened now?”
Thrisp scurried up the stairs to the Captain, pitching his voice low so as not to alarm any of the nearby crew. “There is something growing inside him, Captain. Something alive. We didn’t want to risk whatever it is breaking free below decks where it might easily hide…and grow.”
Amella’s face blanched. “What’re ye goin’ t’do?”
“We’re going to try and get it out, but I want the deck cleared. Everyone below, and batten all the hatches.”
Amella nodded and immediately ordered all of the crew members below decks.
Sepoto had spent many hours observing the priests of Savras in their daily duties, some of which included tending the sick. Though the goliath’s tastes ran towards a more martial bent, he had learned some rudimentary healing techniques along the way. So it was that he was elected to attempt the removal procedure. Kneeling next to Feres, he held a small dagger that had been heated and then doused in wine. Feres’ breathing had grown shallow, and his eyes were wild. He babbled and writhed, screaming as if he were being wracked.
“I need him still, damn it!” the crusader shouted, sweat beading on his brow.
“I’ll take care of it,” Thrisp said. He stood over the priest, and began another spell. When he was finished, a concussion of power rippled from him. Instantly Feres’ eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.
“There,” Thrisp said, sighing. “He should be out for awhile.”
Sepoto nodded, and bent to his task. Though he tried for precision, his large hands were meant more for rending flesh. He cut and probed at Feres’ abdomen, first separating the skin and fascia, and then the muscle layers beneath. The deeper he cut, the more blood the priest lost. Samson quickly joined him, focusing his psychic energy into a gentle aura of health, slowing the blood flow and clearing the surgical field for the goliath. For several minutes, the pair kept at it, trying to find the mass, which seemed like it should be obvious, but eluded their attempts nonetheless. At last, Sepoto leaned back, spent.
“It’s no use,” he said. “If I keep going, I’ll kill him.”
“What now then?” Amella asked.
“You’re Captain of this ship,” Thrisp said. “The choice is yours.”
Amella did not seem pleased with this logic. “Mayhap we can keep’im comfortable till we reach Mezro. They’re bound t’have healers there.”
Thrisp moved close to her. “Mezro’s almost two weeks away,” he said. “He doesn’t have that long. With all due respect, Captain, we have to make a decision now.”
“What d’ye suggest?” Amella snapped. “We can’t just throw’im over board!”
Thrisp considered this for a moment, then said, “If we do nothing, he’s dead anyway, and we’ve got some monster loose which might kill more of us. Let us try and see if we can destroy the mass. It’s the only option. If Feres dies in the process, then we’ve only sped him on an inevitable path.”
Amella mulled it over for several long moments before reluctantly nodding. “Be done with it then.”
Thrisp turned and nodded to Sepoto.
The crusader coiled his chain around his right hand and knelt once more by the priest.
“May your god be with you,” he whispered, and then brought his fist down, where it sank unexpectedly deep into Feres’ abdomen. There was a horrific gout of blood and black bile. Feres convulsed once, then lay deathly still, his face pale and his lips blue. Sepoto withdrew his hand, staring at it in disbelief.
“I…I didn’t mean to strike him that hard…” he stammered.
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Basil said, feeling for a pulse and finding none. He then bent to examine the wound, and saw what appeared to be a glistening, black cocoon inside it.
“It’s an egg sack,” Marius breathed as the wizard pulled the gore-covered pouch out.
“Yes, but what kind?” Thrisp asked.
“I’ve seen one like it before.” Marius said quietly. “It’s slaadi.” The others looked at him quizzically. “Slaad,” he explained, “are a race of frog-like creatures that dwell in Limbo. They sometimes implant their eggs in hosts, where they gestate for a week before hatching into full grown blue slaad.”
“One week you say?” Thrisp asked. “We were in Fort Blackwell one week ago. That’s when I noticed the documents we found were missing. Including the map of the portals to Limbo. All a bit too coincidental, don’t you think? It seems that whomever Feres was supposed to deliver those scrolls too was none-to-happy with his failure. They must have stolen them from me, then implanted the egg in him in the hopes that its hatchling would kill us.”
At sunset, Amella gathered the crew and passengers on deck to commit Feres’ remains to the deep.
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It was the following evening that Sepoto, alone on deck, suddenly found himself in the company of Lirith.
“It’s a shame about the priest,” she said, leaning on the rail beside him and looking out at the waves.”
Sepoto grunted noncommittally. Samson had told them about her proposition the previous week, and the goliath was curious as to where this might be going.
“On journeys such as these, you never know which day might be your last,” she sighed. “Makes you want to live each one to the fullest, don’t you think?” She turned towards him, placing one of her hands on his.
“As it so happens,” Sepoto rumbled. “That is exactly what I think.”
Lirith smiled mischievously. “I’ve always wandered if what they say about goliaths is true?” she purred.
“There’s only one way to find out,” he answered, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the forward storeroom. From her vantage on the wheel deck, Amella Venkalie shook her head, a smirk on her lips. Kids today.
Once Sepoto closed the door behind them, Lirith sauntered over to a crate and leaned seductively against it.
“You’re going to have to lose the armor, big boy,” she said. “We don’t want anything getting in the way, do we?”
“We certainly don’t,” Sepoto grinned, “but what about you?”
“I’ve got less to take off than you do,” she smiled. “I’ll give you a head-start, and just so you don’t lose interest, I’ll give you a little taste of things to come.”
As the goliath started unbuckling the straps to his heavy platemail, the slender redhead began a dance that not only held his interest, but redoubled his efforts. She was almost hypnotic in her movements, and Sepoto found himself pausing involuntarily, just staring at her. Finally, the last strap was loose, and the last piece of mail fell. Lirith gasped and nodded appreciatively, moving closer to the crusader.
“Now it’s my turn see what you have to hide,” Sepoto murmured, reaching for her to help her out of her clothing. As soon as his hand touched her, however, her image began to blur and shift. Within seconds, Lirith had vanished, and in her place stood none-other-than Rowyn Kellani!
“Oh, I have nothing to hide,” she hissed, and stepped away from him, her hand going to the rapier strapped to her side.
Below deck, in the forward crew quarters, Samson, Thrisp and Marius were still awake, discussing the ramifications of Feres’ death. Basil was sleeping, and snoring loudly. Suddenly, the trio heard Sepoto bellowing from somewhere above them. They couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he definitely sounded as if he were in trouble. Thrisp and Marius started for the door as Samson kicked Basil’s bunk.
“Wha…?” the mage asked blearily.
“Time to go to work,” the dragon shaman answered, and then he followed the other two out the door.
Sepoto lunged for his chain, which he’d coiled atop a nearby crate. As he did so, Rowyn darted in the opposite direction, the words of a spell on her lips. Instantly, she vanished from sight, but then the door to the storeroom opened of its own accord. The goliath took a step for the door, but as he moved, he heard the sing-song chant of spellcasting again. Out of thin air in front of him, a savage-looking ape appeared, with blood-red eyes, and fangs like daggers. One large paw cuffed the crusader across the face, rocking him back on his heels, and sending an explosion of stars circling before his eyes.
By that time, Samson, Thrisp and Marius had arrived on deck. Samson saw Avella moving towards the stairs from the aft deck, a look of confusion on her face. Quickly, he rushed towards her.
“Stay back!” he shouted. “Sepoto’s under attack!”
“What is it with you people?” Amella snarled, but she didn’t come any further, though she slipped her blade from its sheath.
Meanwhile, Thrisp and Marius moved towards the snarls and roars coming from the open door of the storeroom. When the gnome saw the ape looming over Sepoto, he released what was fast becoming his signature spell…a Blinding Color Surge. At the same time that the ape clawed at its eyes, Thrisp winked out of sight. Marius used the opportunity to launch his own offensive, sending two scorching threads of fire at the animal. As it howled in pain and rage, Sepoto shook his head clear, and then struck. When his chain smashed into the ape, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Suddenly, Rowyn reappeared, standing atop one of the life boats right next to Marius, her rapier tip buried deep in his side. The war mage cried out in agony as she twisted the blade, then ripped it out with a wicked laugh.
“You will all pay with your lives for what you have done!” she snarled. “You ruined everything, and when I offered you the chance to join me, you chose to stand by that Vanderboren bitch! Now you will see what it means to cross House Kellani!”
“I think we’ve heard quite enough from you,” Thrisp said in a bored voice. “Now why don’t you be a good girl and shut up?” He waved his hand, spoke a few words, and Rowyn swooned where she stood before dropping in a heap to the deck.
Amella joined the Legionnaires as they gathered round the sleeping smuggler.
“Who the blazes is this?” the Captain asked. “And what’s she doin’ on my ship?”
“Her name is Rowyn Kellani,” Thrisp said, and when Amella raised her eyebrows in alarm, he nodded, “Yes, those Kellanis, but you needn’t worry about them. You see, Rowyn and her mother had themselves a nice little smuggling operation going in Tashluta. You may have heard of the Lotus Dragons? Well, here is the Lady of the Lotus herself. Their goal was to take over Tashluta’s entire shipping concern, with the help of Lavinia’s traitorous brother, Vanthus. We put a stop to all that and brought their operation down around their ears. Even now, the Dawn Council is investigating House Kellani, and will probably strip them of all lands and title. It would appear that poor Rowyn is a tad bitter about all of this, and still harbors a grudge or two.”
“Ye don’t say,” Amella smirked.
“Yes,” Thrisp continued, “and further more, I think we have made a terrible mistake. I happen to know that Rowyn is a master of disguise, and I believe it is now obvious that she has been the one behind the mysterious attacks on this ship, from the mephit to the food poisonings. I think she first disguised herself as Abigail, and then killed the cook by disguising herself as Skald and throwing her overboard. I’m sorry to say that we convicted and imprisoned the wrong person.”
Amella cursed roundly, but quickly regained her composure. “Well, there’s nothin’ fer it now. All we can do is send word with the next ship we cross headin’ east. They can relay a message to Fort Blackwell, and things can be set t’right with the poor ranger. As fer this wench, she’ll not be so lucky. On th’high seas, the Captain be judge, jury, and if need be, executioner. As far as I’m concerned, she’s guilty o’murder, attempted murder and sabotage. The sentence be death!”
Thrisp glanced over at the still-naked Sepoto and nodded. The crusader sighed, taking up his chain.
“Pity,” he said. “We were just getting to the good part to.”
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INTERLUDE:
Skald screamed as the shadowy creature approached. He strained at his bonds, but they were so tight that he could not even turn his head. The thing leaned over him, the firelight falling across its alien features. Red-scaled skin covered its frog-like face, and its tongue flickered out hungrily.
“Don’t fear,” it hissed. “Your suffering will end soon, and you shall have the glorious destiny of bringing new life into this world with your death.”
The ranger screamed again as pain like a hot poker pierced his abdomen.
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Twenty-three days into their journey, the Sea Wyvern and the Blue Nixie reached the mouth of the Olung River. Here Lavinia ordered the ships anchored to take on fresh water. It was her intention to set sail again by sunset, but as the time grew closer, a thick fog began to gather. It grew thicker quickly, and soon the two vessels were invisible to each other, even though they were only a few hundred feet apart. It became obvious that they would not be able to sail in the mist and gloom, and so the captains gave word to anchor for the night.
Urol assured everyone that fog banks like this were perfectly natural in warm, coastal waters, but even so, the passengers and crew were uneasy. Most of them went below decks, where they would not have to see the all-consuming mist. The Legionnaires decided to post rotating watches throughout the night, and it fell to Marius to pull the last shift before dawn.
The warmage paced the aft deck impatiently, anxious for dawn to arrive so they could be underway again. Suddenly, something struck the port side of the ship. At first the Seeker thought it might be another shark, but then the whole vessel canted sharply to port, and then righted itself again. Cautiously, he crept towards the rail and looked over. What he saw was what, at first, appeared to be a great clot of flotsam adrift in the current, but it became quickly apparent that something more was afoot. The debris was moving against the current, and creeping slowly up the side of the ship. Marius stepped back, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. A great, viscous pseudopod extruded from the mass, smashing into him with the force of a mule kick. Worse, when it struck, it stuck like glue. Before he knew what was happening, the war mage found himself yanked from his feet, and pulled over the side, where he landed heavily atop the floating wreckage. As he struggled to free himself, another pseudopod rose above him. When it fell, Marius knew no more.
In their room below, the other four Legionnaires awoke immediately with the first impact. When Thrisp peered out the porthole this time, he saw nothing. Not bothering to don armor, the group gathered their weapons and started upstairs. Samson was the first to arrive.
“Marius!” he shouted when he did not see the mage. The ship was again listing to port, and the dragon shaman moved to the rail, Sepoto a step behind him. Both of them saw the drifting flotsam, but then their eyes focused on what floated atop it…Marius body, unmoving save for one arm which flopped with the current, back and forth as if beckoning.
“What the...?” Samson began, but his words were cut short as another pseudopod shot upwards, slamming into his chin. The dragon shaman started to fall backwards, but was stopped as the ooze-like appendage held him in place…and then yanked him overboard.
“We’ve got major problems here!” Sepoto bellowed to Basil and Thrisp, who stood a respectful distance behind him. The goliath then snapped his chain downward, slashing at the trash-covered ooze. Each time he struck, however, he felt his weapon stick, threatening to be torn from his grip, but he managed to tear it free again after each blow.
“Take cover!” Basil shouted, but Sepoto knew that was impossible. The wizard would have to throw his spell, and if he was caught in it, then so be it. An instant later, a large ball of fire erupted in the air above the ooze, burning much of its attached debris, and scorching the gelatinous hide of the creature itself.
Thrisp was momentarily at a loss. He had, of course, heard of oozes before, but he didn’t have much practical knowledge of their weaknesses. He only knew one of their strengths, and it was a major one as far as he was concerned. They were mindless, like amoebae. Most of his beguilements would be useless…with one or two possible exceptions. Quickly, he began to cast, and when he was done, a circle of almost two-dozen invisible and incorporeal sentinels circled silently above the ooze. They were not capable of proactive aggression, but should the creature attempt to move away from them, that was a different story. Thrisp set to work on the second part of his plan.
Samson pulled and strained against the ooze, but he was completely immobilized. All he could think of to do was to open his mouth and breathe his acidic breath. The caustic spray burned and pitted the ooze, and this gave the dragon shaman another idea. Concentrating, he focused his mental power and began radiating an aura of energy which would further inflict the same acidic burning should the creature strike him again…which it did immediately, driving the air out of his lungs.
Sepoto prepared to strike again, but before he had the chance, the ooze struck first. Instantly, he was stuck, but when the thing tried to pull him from his feet, the goliath braced himself, straining with all his strength, and barely managing to keep his footing. A second fireball from Basil exploded again, and once more the ooze burned, but still the horrible creature held him fast. Below, he saw Samson breath again, but it was his last. The ooze hammered into him, momentarily submerging him. When the dragon shaman floated to the surface once more, blood poured from his mouth, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.
“Noooo!” Sepoto screamed, and in that moment, he lost his balance, and tumbled over the rail. He knew it would not be long before he joined his friend. He wondered what it would be like to meet Savras.
It was now or never, Thrisp thought. Closing his eyes, he drew a mental picture, speaking the word to his spell as he did so. When he opened them again, the image in his mind’s eye sprang forth. Behind the ooze appeared the illusory form of a large orca, critically wounded and splashing about in obvious distress. The ooze was mindless. It could not know that this new, easy prey was not real. Hungrily, it released the Sea Wyvern and began swimming towards the illusion. As soon as it moved, however, Thrisp’s unseen sentinels struck. In moments, the ooze was battered to pieces, and the flotsam attached to it began to disperse and drift away on the tide.
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EPILOGUE
Two days later, the Sea Wyvern and the Blue Nixie pulled into port in Mezro. The thriving coastal metropolis was the largest civilized area in Chult, and would be the last they would encounter before heading out to open sea. Anything and everything could be found in Mezro…including the occasional miracle.
As it so happened, Urol had contacts among the druidic shamans of the various Chult tribes that saw Mezro as a holy city. So it was that the bodies of Samson and Marius were brought to one such holy man. For a fee, he agreed to attempt to recall the souls of the dead, but he warned them…their friends might not be exactly as they remembered. Nonetheless, the remaining members of the Legion agreed to proceed. The shaman worked in silence, laboring for hours constructing clay simulacrums, which bore no facial features, and appeared to be of no particular race or sex. When all was ready, he wove his magic. Before the startled eyes of the onlookers, the clay molds began to take on flesh and substance, reshaping themselves in a matter of moments. Then, a glow began to surround the bodies of Marius and Samson before flowing into each one’s adjacent new body. The host for Samson’s soul sat up first, looking around in confusion. Then he looked down at himself.
“Oh no,” the goblin dragon shaman moaned.
Thrisp, however, could not take his eyes off of Marius. “What in the Hells do you think you’re looking at?” the war mage barked. “Surely you’ve seen a naked gnome before!”
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
