Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

Vlad’s world was awhirl with steel and tentacles. Vlad rolled and dove behind a crate as one sword smashed through it. Another forced him to jump clear of its low swing. He blocked a third with his shield, but it connected well enough to drive furrows beneath Vlad’s boot heels in the sand.

One of the tentacles slapped aside the remains of the crate when suddenly it was sliced in half, squirting octopus ichor.

Cal, sans Kham, had transformed into a roaring, hacking ball of rage. His usual webbed earflaps stood straight up in a fan around his head as he set upon the Leviathan with fury. Two tentacles stabbed him in the chest, but he seemed unaware of the wounds. Calactyte set upon the tentacles with his clawed feet, with his teeth, with his claws and even his tail.

The Leviathan was momentarily preoccupied, but judging from the number of wounds Cal was bleeding from, Vlad knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed.

Vlad was struggling to his feet when he heard a strange hiss behind him.

“Down!” shouted Kham.

There was a concussive BOOM! that rocked the cavern. Something large and heavy whistled past Vlad’s ear and tore through the Leviathan, ripping it off the edge of the cavern’s outcropping. Cal dug into the ground with all four claws as the blast struck the Leviathan, leaving rubbery gibbets of giant octopus all around him.

“What the hell was that?” shouted Vlad.

Kham was on the ground near a blasted crate, covered in soot. His white smile was unmistakable.

“I loaded the cannon before the Dauntless was boarded,” said Kham. “I was hoping to fire it, but they got to us before I could.”

The momentum of the blast had propelled the wheeled cannon backwards, splintering a door behind it.

A terrific cacophony arose from the ceiling above them. The air was filled with a hail of spears as cultists arrived on the balcony to pepper them from above.

Ilmarė poked her head out of the broken doorway. “There’s some kind of portal in here,” shouted Ilmarė. “But we need a key.”

Bijoux bounded from one crate to the next. “I see it!” she said, pointing at the glowing altar.

Vlad ran over to Kham, shield over his head. “Can you fire that thing again?” He pointed at the cultists above them.

“Sure. If you could find someone strong enough to lift a 2,500 pound cannon and aim it.”

Cal picked up a crate and hurled it at the ledge with a roar. The gibbering and spears stopped for a moment.

Kham and Vlad exchanged glances.

“He’ll do,” said Kham.

[talien]

Bijoux spread her wingflaps and launched herself towards the altar. The air had become a forest of flying spears, such that she had to twist and bend to avoid them. One spear through her wingflaps would ground her.

She landed on the altar and peered in. It was a carved rock altar with a large glass bowl. At the bottom of the bowl was a golden ring with a key mounted on it.

And a snake. Or an eel. Bijoux wasn’t familiar with Onaran wildlife.

Bijoux took a deep breath. She didn’t have time to fool around by fishing around in the bowl and the snakey thing—whatever it was—would certainly bite her. It would take all of her catlike reflexes to snatch it out of the bowl. It would require all her concentration.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. With a swipe of her claws, she shattered the bowl.

The snake flopped around for a moment. Bijoux hesitated, then grabbed the small snake by its tail and dumped it into her leather pouch. If she left the snake where it was, it would surely die.

“Sorry,” she said to the snake. “Hopefully we’ll laugh about this later.”

Vlad shouted from under his shield. “Calactyte, can you lift the cannon?”

The big lizard’s head turned to pinpoint the source of the sound.

“I don’t know if we want his attention,” said Kham. “He looks really pissed.”

“Cal!” shouted Vlad. He pointed at the cannon. “Can you turn the cannon? That way!” He pointed towards the cultists.

Somewhere in the murderous fog of Calactyte’s mind the concept made it through. He roared again and barreled towards the Altherian cannon.

“I don’t think he’s gonna stop,” said Kham.

Every muscle bulged as Cal grabbed the cannon with both claws. Sinew and scales strained and tore as the cannon was hoisted off of the ground and turned 45 degrees to face the cultists. He heaved it just a few feet, but it did the trick.

The cannon landed with a horrendous thud. The cultists paused in their shouting.

Vlad ran over and dropped a cannonball into the mouth of the weapon.

Ilmarė poured blackpowder into the cannon. Kham use his flint and steel to spark it.

There was a strange, crackling sound from deep within the cannon.

“It’s jammed!” shouted Kham, crawling away as fast as he could, which was not fast enough. “She’s gonna blow!”

Bijoux glided to the top of the cannon. She withdrew the staff from her back and shoved it down the barrel.

There was a hollow ring as the cannonball hit the bottom of the cannon. The Fihali leapt off of the mouth of the cannon as it fired.

The shot crashed through the lip of the cavern wall above, partially collapsing it beneath dozens of cultists. They screamed as they fell. Then there was only broken bodies and dust.

The force of the explosion had knocked the cannon backwards into the wall. One of the four wheels fell off.

“Can Altherians make cannons or what?” said Kham.

Cultists stream through the door where the snake-haired woman had escaped.

“Great,” said Ilmarė, knocking another arrow. “They finally figured out how to use the steps.”

[talien]

“I have the key,” said Bijoux, dangling the gold ring from one of her claws. “Perhaps we should leave?”

Vlad pointed to Kham. “Cal, get Kham. Let’s hope that portal leads to somewhere safe.”

“No!” shouted Kham as Cal picked him up like a rag doll and strapped him onto his back. “We can’t leave the cannon!”

“There’s no way we can carry it,” said Vlad as a volley of spears pierced several crates near his head.

“You’re right,” said Kham slowly. “We can’t carry it.”

Vlad and Kham shared a knowing nod.

Kham encompassed the other crates and barrels in the room. “See all this? It’s ammunition and blackpowder to fire this cannon. Grab a barrel.”

Bijoux peeked into the small cave. At the rear of the cave was a circular stone arch one and a half spear lengths high made of greenstone. It was carved with disturbing and lurid aquatic motifs.

“I’m not sure where to put the key,” said Bijoux.

Ilmarė shook her head. She fired two arrows and two more cultists dropped. “Me neither. Stick it into something that looks like a keyhole and twist.”

Vlad grabbed a barrel of blackpowder and uncorked it. Black, fine grains trailed behind him.

“Now what,” shouted Vlad as he ran over to Kham and Cal.

“Run,” said Kham. Cal started to take a step towards the portal. “Not us. Not yet.”

Bijoux wrinkled her nose at the portal. She stuck it into somewhere into the carvings and turned. The portal began to pulse with a sickly green aura.

“Yuck,” she said.

The hail of spears stopped as cultists swarmed over the crates, closing in on the small cavern entrance.

Vlad barreled past Bijoux, trailing blackpowder, and disappeared with a FWHIP! in a green flash.

“Time to go!” shouted Ilmarė. She dove through the portal and flashed out of existence.

Bijoux gave one worried glance over her shoulder at Cal and Kham, then dove through the portal herself.

“Now Cal! Run!” shouted Kham. Cal pounded towards the portal, Kham facing the other way in his truss.

One of the cultists stepped through the entranceway, spear raised.

Kham tossed a match onto the blackpowder trail. A sparking path sizzled its way from the gate, between the cultist’s legs, out from the cave entrance…

The cultist looked down at the fiery trail and then behind him.

“The Altherian government sends its regards,” said Kham as Cal hurled them both through the portal.

[talien]

They appeared at the top of the cliffs on the northern side of the cove, where an ancient tower rose up above it. There was a terrific explosion from the sea caves to their right. Smoke, dust, and screams rose up from the opening.

Beneath a palm tree, near a single outrigger, was the snake-haired woman. The strange mask swiveled towards them in surprise.

“Take her out before she can turn us to stone” said Vlad. He ran down spiraling steps inside the stone tower and barreled towards her. Cal and Kham were close behind.

The masked woman pointed and a spiraling glob of acid leaped from her finger. Bijoux shrieked as her fur was singed.

“Where’s the ship?” said Ilmarė, scanning the horizon. The Shrike should have been anchored at a tall cliff, but it was no longer there.

Down below, Vlad and Cal were steps away from the masked woman when she put her fingers together and a fan of flames engulfed them. Screaming and on fire, they dove to the side into the water.

Ilmarė knocked an arrow and fired, but it bounced off a magical field. “I can’t hit her,” she said, shaking her head.

Bijoux hopped up on a crumbling crenellation. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” said Bijoux.

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė. “She’ll petrify you!”

Bijoux was already in the air.

Ilmarė reached for another arrow, only to grab the hilt of Captain Bezyli’s knife at her belt.

She drew it. The knife was perfectly balanced and almost seemed to hum when she held the blade between her fingertips.

On impulse, Ilmarė drew back one arm and launched it at the masked woman. The blade struck home. It struck true through one of the mask’s eyes. A hollow scream echoed from behind it.

Bijoux sailed through the air towards the masked woman. She pointed at Bijoux and a bright white beam sizzled past her.

Then Bijoux set upon her with fangs and claws. She bit down into the woman’s neck and tore her throat out.

Cal and Vlad stood up put of the surf. Behind Cal, Kham sputtered.

“Uh, guys…” said Kham.

Vlad looked down at Bijoux, who gulped the blood from the dead woman. “I didn’t know the Fihali could do that.”

”Guys,” said Kham.

Ilmarė joined them. Inexplicably, the knife was back in her hands. “That’s enough Bijoux,” she said.

Bijoux looked up, her chin soaked with blood. She wiped it off with the back of one arm.

“Now let’s see about this mask,” said the Elorii. She yanked the knife out of the dead woman’s face and tried to pry the mask off, but it crumbled, leaving a faceless skull beneath.

”HEY!” shouted Kham. “I don’t want to alarm anyone and I recognize that I have a unique perspective on the situation since I’m strapped to the back of a homicidal lizard, but I thought you might want to know that there are about a million cultists running straight toward us!”

[talien]

Sure enough, cultists were streaming from the ruined temple at the center of the island. They put up a great shout as they came closer, frothing at the mouth with weapons raised high.

“The outrigger!” shouted Vlad. They filed into the boat and each took a paddle.

“Row!” shouted Kham. “Row faster!”

All around them the water was filled with spear shafts.

“Not. Helping,” said Ilmarė through gritted teeth as she put her back into it.

Several groups of cultists came down the cliffs with canoes, ready to give chase. Many more of the fanatical madmen pitched spears from the cliff tops above. A spear thunked loudly into the prow.

“Oh great, we’ve got company,” said Kham as three canoes filled with cannibal cultists sliced fast through the water.

The enemy canoe sailed towards them, filled with snarling devils armed with sharpened teeth and sharper spears. They raised their weapons up…

BOOM!

The head of the lead attacker burst in a shower of blood and gore.

“The Prophet!” shouted Kham.

A cacophony of explosions fired from the Altherian gunship known as the Prophet, its prow lined with cannons. They formed a line along the rail, loosing a deadly volley of lead. The cannonfire tore through the cultists, obliterating the canoes and filling the air with drifting smoke and the scent of blood.

The cultists fell back, routed. The Prophet disgorged boats loaded with Altherian Patrolmen, who waved as they sailed past them.

“We did it!” shouted Kham. He wriggled out of his truss and stood on the edge of the outrigger. “Hail, my Altherian brothers!”

Then he fainted.

[talien]

After resting and recovering from their wounds in comfortable rooms of a sumptuous Milandisian manor in Naeraanth, they were summoned for a banquet. It was to be a feast held in their honor by none other than His Majesty King Osric IV of Milandir.

Dressed in proper attire, they followed a steward down a long hallway. It led to a set of large doors carved with hunting motifs.

The steward swung open the doors to reveal the officers of the Shrike seated around a long rectangular table at the center of a large stone hall. The hall was lined with many extravagant tapestries, a roaring fireplace and other sundry trappings.

A man with short, dark curly hair was seated at the head of the table. All the guests stood as they entered.

“Greetings,” he said. “I am Alexius Waldulf, the manor castellan. Unfortunately, is majesty King Osric will not be in attendance this evening, as matters of import in Tralia kept him away. His majesty sends his apologies.”

Vlad was visibly disappointed. Kham shrugged. Ilmarė rolled her eyes. Cal and Bijoux just looked at the food on the table.

“However,” continued Alexius, “please be assured that you will be paid in full for your efforts. Each of you has rightly earned the grateful favor of the Crown for your service to Milandir. As for the crew of the Shrike,” he turned towards the other men. They were all there: Captain Baldric, Edward, even Crazy Bob. Baldric and Edward wore officer’s insignias on new jackets. “You will all receives pardons and officers commissions!”

The men went wild, cheering and hooting in a decidedly inappropriate manner. Alexius raised his mug.

“His Majesty offers you a hunting feast!” He rang a dainty silver bell.

The bright peal of the bell summoned many servants carrying trays. They festooned the table with varied dishes, venison and decorative delicacies under or upon silver serving dishes, trays and decanters.

“We were looking for Cassicus,” said Ilmarė out of the side of her mouth. “That’s why Quintus sent us to find you.”

The servants lifted the tops of the serving trays, revealing succulent smells of roasted saucy meats, breads, fancy stews and puddings, dark gravies, bright vegetables, sweet woodland fruits, truffles, mushrooms and subtle spices.

“Great,” said Kham. “Who’s Cassicus?”

As wine and mead was poured out, two servants started a quiet whispered argument over one last dish that remained uncovered.

“Senator Tensen-Balin’s son, remember?” said Vlad on the other side of Kham.

The castellan walked over the servants and became embroiled in an argument with the head servant about the dish.

“Oh yeah,” said Kham. “Right. Well. I’m going to be a bit preoccupied here. But I’ll catch up.”

The servant was clearly reluctant to uncover the tray, indicating that it was inappropriate given present company.

“Like you did last time?” said Vlad. “I haven’t seen you since Sweet Savona.”

Alexius was incensed. He asked if the servant thought his guests weren’t good enough for the servant’s opinions or his chef’s dishes.

“It’s not every day you get named the Consort of Larissa,” said Kham with a satisfied smirk. “But give Quintus my regards. I’ll try to meet you when I can. I’ve got to give a report to the Altherian government.”

Alexius began to shout at the servant, demanding the dish be revealed.

Cal sniffed at the tray.

The servant apologized to the castellan but did not move to uncover the dish.

With a swipe of one huge claw, Cal tugged the lid of the tray.

It was a large steamed octopus, decorated with many cooked shellfish and tucked in bundles of edible seaweed.

“Who lives in the grotto down under the sea?” sand Cal in his baritone voice.

The rest of the table paused in shock. Then they burst out into raucous laughter and joined in.

“LE-VI-A-THAN!
An aspect o' Yarris an' evil be he!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
If nautical nightmares be somethin’ ye fear,
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Then run fer yer lives and dump all yer gear!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Ready?
Leviathan, Leviathan, Leviathan, le-VI-A-THANNNNNNN!”

Kham slapped his forehead. “Gods, he taught ALL of you that song?!”

[talien]

This is the fourth soft point of Year 2 of the tournament module, "Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe," written by Chris Jarvis and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note that this story hour contains spoilers! Our cast of characters includes:

· Ilmarė Galen (Elf Brd3), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
· Vlad Martell (Human Ftr3), played by Matt Hammer.
· Calactyte (Ss’ressen Bar1), played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
· Bijoux (Fihali 2/Drd1), played by Melissa Gendron
· Sebastian Arnyal (Dark-kin Sor 2) played by George Webster
· Beldin (Dwarf Ftr2) played by Joe Lalumia
· Kham (Val Rog 1/PW 2) played by Jeremy Ortiz http://www.dreamsculptor.com

I was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net

This session took place over several hours at a Memorial Day barbecue. I knew it would take long with the sheer amount of detailed NCPs that the party had to face. I was also prepared this time, with cardboard maps and props, miniatures of all types (including my collection of painted lead miniatures, figures from the Pirate Battle game, and toys from a party store), and of course, my pirate mask.

What ensued was complete chaos. This was a grand melee of seven players against all kinds of enemies, such that I can’t even cover them all in the story hour. I hope you enjoy how I chose to portray them, as the bad guys are like the Legion of Doom—they’re just evil versions of the good guys. Just about everybody has an evil counterpart, but my favorite was Zainat Zameri, the clerical gunslinger who is after the bounty on Kham’s head. I had plans to use the dueling rules from D20 Deadlands…but with Kham, things never go according to plan.

In fact, I created an entire inn complete with tables, chairs, walls, fireplace, a menu, etc. Nobody ever made it there.

Oh well. As Amber says, “eventually, someone’s going to have a fight in an inn.” So one day I’ll get to use it. I hope.

I discovered that Sycorax is actually from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Although she’s long dead by the time the play starts, her presence is always felt through her malformed fish-like son, Caliban. If you’re familiar with the play, the ending will come as no surprise. That means somewhere out there is an island with Prospero’s staff and book and Ariel the sprite!

As an aside, I'm going to post some pictures of what the other characters look like (as the players grant me permission to do so). I first when with concepts generated through HeroMachine: http://www.heromachine.com

But then I started to change the HeroMachine portraits to match the miniatures. So here then is Quintus where we last left him, just starting out as a signifer in the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior.

[talien]

"If Camring becomes heir to the throne of Sea Lord Drac, we’re out of business."

Zainat thrust one hand through his shock of black curls. The idiot next to him was getting drunker by the minute and spewing information like a fountain. A fountain of beer.

"Ya mentioned smuggling," Zainat repeated, slow enough for even the extremely inebriated to understand. "So?"

Zainat's drinking companion's face, an explosion of stubble, jowls of flesh, and scars, crinkled up in confusion. "We're in the same boat, mate. I know what you do."

Zainat fingered the green brooch at his neck. "Oh ya do, do ya?"

"Right," the fellow said. Zainat didn't even know his name. "You're…fond of doing what needs to be done, and laws be damned, right?" He jabbed Zainat in the ribs with an elbow. "Right?"

Zainat nodded before he was bruised further. "So if House val’Ossan supports Camring’s claim to tha throne and a regency council rules in his stead, we’re all kicked, is that it?"

"Damn right," the drunk said, slurping loudly from his mug. "It's Censurites like that," he gestured at a tall, hawk-faced woman at the far corner of the tavern, "that ruin it for the rest."

Zainat's eyes lit up. He recognized her bright red cloak. Zainat adjusted his midnight blue watch coat and slid off the stool.

"You give her what for," muttered the drunk from the bar. Zainat nodded over his shoulder but kept his eyes on the woman. She was talking intently to three other people at the table.

Zainat could sniff out a mercenary recruitment drive from a mile away. He slid over to a seat nearer the four of them to get a better look.

"I thank you for your quick response to my request," the red headed woman said. "Rest assured, you will be well compensated in assisting my master for this small matter. You each have been selected for your particular skills. I trust you will not disappoint."

She nodded towards a large man, swathed entirely in ebony silks and leathers. "Master Knenag will be your guide. He knows Freeport well." The man, a Cancerite judging by his pale skin and dark hair, thrust out his chin a bit but otherwise said nothing.

Zainat thought there was nothing quite so pathetic as a Cancerite down on his luck. He must have been desperate to take on such work.

"Mistress Andrel’s vast knowledge will serve you well. She has come very far from Entaris."

The female was undeniably Elorii. She was also quite striking, with perfect posture and an icy gaze. She was a Kelekene, descended from the fire god, as evidenced by her pointed ears and honey gold hair.

"If the child is still alive," she said in a monotone whisper, "we'll find him."

"Yes, we shall!" shouted the third woman, with dusky black skin, glowing amber eyes, and three-inch bone-white horns that adorned her head. "Amalia Grat,” she referred to herself in third person, “will catch the little bastard for sure."

The speaker was a dark-kin. Zainat hated dark-kin. He couldn't take it any longer.

"Again?" Zainat said.

"What?"

"I said, 'Again?' Andrea Blax’s agents been lookin’ fer tha brat for weeks. The Rusty-Knife Boys keep coverin’ his escape.”

Amalia's mouth opened in surprise—for once, no sound came out of it. Her brows furrowed, but before she could come up with a retort, the Censurite waved Zainat over.

"You must be Master Zameri. I was not sure if you were going to join us."

Zainat stood up, spat, and walked over to the table. "Why didn'tcha tell them about tha other attempts, Locksan?"

Locksan stared at Zainat for a long moment. Then she turned back to Amalia. "Captain Blax prefers this matter to be handled discreetly. Camring is Thralen Vodric val’Ossan’s nephew, an influential member of the Merchants’ Guild and one of the most dangerous men in Freeport. Captain Blax needs a bargaining tool without incurring the wrath of the Royal House of Milandir."

Zainat smirked. "And ya hired these thugs? Ya couldn’t find nobody else?"

Locksan put a calming hand on Amalia's shoulder as the warrior’s face turned red. "Captain Blax’s agents have already failed. It is my master's hope that a small group can do discreetly what the other agents could not."

"I didn't agree to him going along," said Amalia, jabbing a thumb in Zainat's direction.

"You weren't asked," Locksan said firmly. "The Captain insists."

"Let's go," said the Elorii before Amalia could protest. "Every moment spent talking is more time for the val’Ossans to put Camring on the throne."

"Good. Here is a description of what the boy looks like," he handed a scroll to Amalia. "A priest waits outside to shepherd you through."

Amalia abruptly stood up and shrugged on a flamberge onto her back. She wore a coif of copper washed chain to a formfitting breastplate. Her long quilted skirt was studded with copper rings; it was slit to allow for the movement of her long, whip-like tail and blue leather booted legs.

The Elorii shook her head and gracefully left the table. That left the Cancerite. He nodded at Zainat but did not extend his hand. "Name's Broled. If vere going to verk together, you should learn it vell."

Zainat tipped his hat to Broled. Then he followed him out the door.

Outside, the Elorii was keeping her distance from the dark-kin, who stood with hands on hips, scowling at the surrounding terrain.

"So tell me Broled," said Zainat, keeping his eye on the strange warrior woman’s back. "How does a dark-kin get caught up in this mess?"

Broled shrugged. "Never met her before," he said in low tones. "But she is a bit…loud."

"Amalia is one of the most feared hired swords in Freeport," said the Elorii, turning towards them. "Captain Blax’s agents have crossed her in the past. They’re still picking up the pieces."

"I didn't think you were in earshot," said Zainat.

A sly smirk slipped across the Elorii's lips. "I'm always in earshot," she said in the same monotone. "My name is Neyadis."

"Neyadis," said Zainat. "Pretty name."

The Elorii turned away from him as a haggard-looking man approached them. A bracelet of thorns was wrapped around his left wrist. Zainat recognized him as a Priest of Anshar, the clergy dedicated to maintaining the teleportation gates that could move anyone from one side of Arcanis to the other.

"Wait," he said. "We're goin’ through a Gate? "

Amalia turned around. "Of course. How else did you think we were going to get to Freeport?"

Zainat began patting himself down. "It's just that I wasn't…"

"Prepared?" Amalia watched as Zainat silently counted to himself.

"He's an Altherian," said Neyadis. "He's counting his ammunition."

Amalia walked face to face with Zainat. "I will not have you endanger this mission with your foolish 'gifts'!"

Zainat counted to ten. "Don’t gitcher britches in a bunch. I don't have enough powder to cause any problems."

"Is there a problem?" said the priest.

"No!" Amalia and Zainat shouted at the same time.

"Then follow me, please. Time is of the essence."

Amalia harrumphed and followed the priest with a swirl of his cloak. Broled fell in step behind next to Zainat. "Vhy is Amalia so angry?"

"Because she's insecure?" he responded.

"She's angry," Neyadis said softly behind them, "because if too much powder goes through a gate, it explodes."

Zainat spat in front of Broled as the man's eyes widened.

"Powder for vhat?" Broled said after a moment.

Zainat patted the blackwood stock and mother-of-pearl handle of his flintlock hanging from a holster on his belt. "Altherian secret. You'll find out soon enough."

[talien]

Ilmarė was in that place, the island where the Children of Leviathan stalked the waves and jungles of Milguldihar.

She was flying. Ilmarė flew through a lovely emerald forest and over verdant tropical reefs alive with dancing, colorful fishes. It was low tide and there were many sparkling pools along the scented coast.

Some movement caught her eye. Ilmarė turned to see what it was.

A lone boy, not ten summers old, frolicked amongst the tide pools. She drew closer, wondering what a hapless child might be doing in such a place.

As Ilmarė approached the boy, he beckoned her forward, humming and skipping merrily along the rocky beach. He led her to a lone tide pool beneath the cool shade of a giant gnarled tree on the shore.

Ilmarė stood over him as the boy looked into the pool. He dropped a squirming crab into it.

The crab scuttled about for a bit. Then tiny tentacles suddenly snapped it up. An emerging octopus, no larger than her fist, latched on to the crab in a death grip.

In the glassy water’s surface, the boy’s smiling reflection glared back at her. But it was not that of an angelic boy. It was the field and sharpened grin of a shark, with a maw that belonged on no normal child.

Ilmarė jolted out of her meditation, Captain Bezyli’s knife in her hand.

“Just a daydream,” she said to herself. Ilmarė tried to focus on her breathing. “Just a daydream.”

The sun was peeking over the horizon in Naeraanth. It was time to get up anyway.

Ilmarė washed and dressed, padding lightly down the steps into the common room of the tavern. They were all there: Calactyte, the hulking lizard man; Bijoux, the stealthy cat-woman; and of course faithful Vlad, who looked more than a little hung over.

She joined them at the table. They were all focused on Captain Baldric, who was regaling them with a tale.

“-th' boy ye’re lookin' fer,” he was saying. “Captain Wendron Krubach be one o' th' most fearsome gentleman o' fortunes t' sail th' seas o' Onara, he be. His ship be th' Black Egret. I crossed th' lad once,” he stroked his eye patch. “But word has come that suddenly Captain Krubach sailed' mad.”

“Why do we care?” asked Ilmarė out of the corner of her mouth.

“Captain Baldric thinks he knows where Cassicus is,” said Vlad.

“Krubach changed course an' sailed' straight after an isle, arrr nay one had ere heard o' before,” said Baldric. “His crew mutinied, but Krubach made them keel haul th' plank. Th' remainin' crew be forced t' assault th' isle, arrr. Many o' them sank t'Davy Jones' locker. But they had the'r prize: a boy nobody heard o'. An important boy, by all rights. Last seen, he be sailin' hard fer Freeport. If ye’re lookin' fer a missin' boy, I lay odds that’s th' lad.”

“It’s a long shot,” said Ilmarė.

“It sounds like our only shot,” said a familiar voice at a nearby table. It was Sebastian, the dark-kin sorcerer. Beldin, Sebastian’s erstwhile dwarven companion, sat next to him.

“You made it!” said Vlad, getting up to greet the pair.

Sebastian looked a little surprised by the warmth of the greeting. He put one gloved hand in Vlad’s and shook it. “Quintus left us a message that you were gathering here to look for Cassicus.”

Vlad nodded. “It’s good to have you with us,” he said. Vlad nodded towards Baldric. “We’re in.”

“Wait,” said Ilmarė. “We have no idea if the boy is really Cassicus. Quintus hasn’t contacted us in a week. What makes you think that Baldric’s tale is even true?”

Vlad lifted his chin. “I have business in Freeport. So I’m in. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Business, hmm?” Ilmarė took a deep breath. “And you two?” she asked of the lizard and the cat.

“Money?” asked Cal.

“Aye,” said Captain Baldric, “ye’ll get yer share o' th' booty once we…” he stroked his eye patch again, “once I takes care o' Captain Krubach.”

“Then I’m going,” said Cal.

“You will need my help,” said Bijoux. “The creatures of the sea will not respond kindly to the intrusion of men. I will go.”

Ilmarė frowned. “I wouldn’t be so quick to-“

She was interrupted by a very loud, “BURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!”

“Osalian help me,” said Ilmarė without looking at the source, “that can only be—“

“Kham!” shouted Vlad. “I thought you had left for Altheria!” He punched Kham on the shoulder, who had sat at the bar unnoticed until his gaseous expulsion.

“I was supposed to,” said Kham. “But uh,” he shoved a torn piece of parchment* further into one of his pockets, “I’ve had a change of heart.”

Baldric got up and the others followed suit. They all turned to look at Ilmarė.

Ilmarė hesitated. She knew Quintus would have wanted them to investigate any trail that might lead to Cassicus, but she was torn between pursuing the boy or waiting for the legionnaire to return. Where was he?

The Elorii chastised herself for worrying. She would not allow her affection for the human to become a burden.

“Fine,” said Ilmarė. “I’m going with you.” She waggled a finger at Vlad. “But we’ll have to be careful. Freeport is like no other place we’ve been before.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Vlad. He put one arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and another around Ilmarė’s. “We’re all going to Freeport!”

*To see what changed Kham’s mind, view the attachment.

[talien]

The journey had been uneventful, though the Shrike appeared to be following in the wake of some sort of autumn storm: the southeastern horizon roiled with tumbling black clouds and foaming white wind-driven waves.

Baldric had his hat in one hand before Bijoux. He stood with a small furry animal beneath one arm.

“Well lass, I know we spake that cats be bad luck an' all, but after ye came aboard an' we be pardoned an' all, well, we be thinkin'.”

Bijoux was taken aback. Her tail flicked nervously behind her. “Yes?”

“We figure ye be good luck, an' we wanted t' keep that wi' th' Shrike. So we got ourselves a cat,” said Baldric. He thrust in front of Bijoux’s face a small hairy explosion of white and black. It was indeed a feline.

The cat looked at her with an expression of wide-eyed shocked that perfectly mirrored Bijoux’s. It wore a black scarf around its neck that was covered with a skull-and-bones pattern. “T' help catch th' rats…o' course.”

“It can’t even catch mice,” said Edward behind his captain. “The Captain has a soft spot for strays.”

Baldric glared at Edward with his good eye. “Ahem. Anyway, we be hopin' th' wee kitty would brin' us some luck when ye’re nay on board. So 't’s only right that ye name th' lass.”

“Name him?” asked Bijoux, eyebrows raised.

“Aye,” said Captain Baldric.

The crew gathered around her expectantly.

Bijoux’s eyes flickered everywhere looking for an escape.

“Just say something,” said Ilmarė, “before they make us sing again.”

“How about…Maya?” said Bijoux.

The crowd cheered. “Maya ‘tis!”

Captain Baldric handed Maya off to Edward and turned to Sebastian and Beldin, who were chuckling to themselves.

“As fer ye—we don’t like th' look o' ye,” said Baldric. The crew shuffled closer. “Dwarves an' dark-kin be bad luck on a ship.”

Sebastian and Beldin exchanged glances. “What did we do?”

“Ye’re goin' t' be havin' t' pass th' test,” said Baldric.

“What test?” squeaked Sebastian.

Ilmarė slapped her forehead and walked to the other side of the ship.

“Debris 25 degrees to port at 120 yards!” shouted Crazy Bob.

Heads turned to look. Sebastian and Beldin stepped away from each other during the momentary distraction.

“Steady as she goes helmsman,” said Captain Baldric. “Beware o' that debris. We don’t need t' get tangled up in anythin'. She’s runnin' mighty close t' shoals as be.”

Bijoux squinted into the distance. “There’s someone in the debris,” she said. “There!”

She pointed and everyone craned their necks to see.

“Yes, I see him,” said Ilmarė. “About 100 yards towards the isle of Badru.”

“It’s a boy,” said Bijoux. “He’s holding onto a wooden spar. It’s stuck on coral.”

A female’s voice, as if shouting through water, echoed in Bijoux’s mind. “Save my child!” Bijoux turned to stare at Ilmarė, but her lips hadn’t moved.

Vlad blinked. “You two can see all that? I can’t see anything but bits of wood.”

“Sounds like our boy,” said Kham. “Captain, we need a boat.”

“I’m going with you,” said Bijoux.

“Me too,” said Beldin. “I am sworn to protect all humans.” He was eager to get away from the rest of the crew.

“You seem to have a selective memory about that,” muttered Kham under his breath.

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea?” Cal sang behind Kham.

Kham rubbed his temples. “Fine, you can go too, but just stop singing that damn song.”

“You know he only sings that song when he thinks some deep sea monstrosity is going to eat us,” said Ilmarė.

“I know,” Kham snapped back. “But at least I won’t have a headache.”

[Paradigm]

Kick ass. I can't wait to read a story based upon I Know Thee, Brother. Getting Rob Taylor as a GM must have been a treat, and the sessions you are putting on sound like an absolute blast!

See you at Gen Con

[talien]

Kham steered the rudder as the ss’ressen rowed. The rowboat lurched forward with each swing of the oars as the massive lizard put his back into it.

Bijoux sat perched at the bow of the rowboat. Beldin didn’t do much but sit in the middle in his banded armor. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Something bounced against the hull of the boat. Bijoux dragged it up onto the boat.

“This wood has some writing on it, but I can’t make it out,” she said.

It read: BLA_K E_RE_

“That’d be the Black Egret,” said Beldin.

As they rowed closer to the shoals, the coral heads jutted upwards from the sea like jagged teeth. Several outcroppings littered the path between the boat and the boy.

“Well, I guess we stop here,” said Kham. He patted Cal on the shoulder to stop him from rowing further.

“Now what?” asked Cal.

Kham walked to the other side of the boat. “Now, we jump.”

“What?” asked Beldin. As he stood up, the boat rocked precariously.

Kham hopped from the prow of the boat onto an outcropping of coral. He spun on one heel, arms out.

“See? Piece of cAAAAH!”

Kham slipped and slid down the side of the coral. He managed to catch himself and scramble inelegantly back to his original position.

Kham dusted off his jacket, but it was no use. The entire back of his overcoat was soaked. “I’m uh, gonna go get the kid.”

“We’ll stay here,” said Beldin.

Kham leaped to another outcropping. He had moved out of earshot, drowned out by the crashing of the surf against the coral reef.

“What is that?” asked Bijoux, pointing at a fin cresting the water’s surface.

“I don’t know,” said Beldin. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Me neither,” said Bijoux. It was heading straight towards them. “I’m not familiar with the native creatures of Onara.”

“I am,” said Cal, his reptilian eyes narrowing to slits. “That’s a—“

“SHARK, you idiots!” Kham had been shouting at them with cupped hands, but only when the waves subsided could they hear him. “Three of them!”

Then something large slammed into the side of the boat. There was a loud SPLOOSH!

Bijoux looked around. “Where’s Beldin?”

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea?” sang Cal in response.

[talien]

“Sharks,” said Kham, crossing his arms to pull out two pistols from their hostlers. “Why did it have to be sharks?”

One of the fins ploughed a path straight towards the boy’s unconscious form.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Kham. He kissed each one of his handgonnes. “Ladies, don’t fail me now.”

Kham took aim at the shark just beneath the surface of the water. It was over 20 feet in length, with tiger-like patterns along the broad gray-brown back.

BLAM BLAM!

There was a swirl of bright red in the water as something thrashed and rolled. Then the dark shape beneath the fin submerged again, disappearing into the coral reef.

“Well, we showed him,” said Kham, holstering his pistols. He hopped the last distance to the boy.

The boy was unconscious. “Wake up kid,” said Kham, nudging him. Eyelids fluttered open.

“W-who are you?” he asked. He was about ten years old, with long disheveled hair, fair skin, and the startling steel-gray eyes of a Val. He was clad in the garments typical for a shipboard cabin boy.

“Not important. All you need to know is I’m the guy with the pistols.” He hoisted the boy up over his shoulders. “What’s more important is who you are.”

“Emric,” the boy said. He put his arms around Kham’s neck.

“Emric?” Kham stretched out from the piece of driftwood and clambered up a coral reef. “That’s not short for Emricassicus by any chance, is it?”

“No sir,” Emric said.

“Didn’t think so,” said Kham. “Well, that’s my good deed for today.” He prepared to spring to the next shoal and then, upon seeing two more fins circling the boat, decided against it. “Maybe we should just rest here for a moment.”

“Will they be okay?” said Emric, pointing at the fracas.

A bubble popped to the surface that sounded suspiciously liked “HELP!”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” said Kham.

[talien]

The ship rocked again, harder than before. Not one shark but two were hunting them, their fins appearing and disappearing as they circled ever closer. Every once in awhile, one would dive down into the water to go after what Bijoux assumed was Beldin.

The water was exceptionally clear at the reef, but she had difficulty making out his form. It looked as if he were trying to climb up the reef. Swimming was impossible in his armor.

Calactyte snarled as one of the fins sailed dangerously close to the boat.

“Be careful,” said Bijoux, “if you move too quickly you’ll—“

Leaving his huge axe behind, Cal launched himself into the water at the shark. There was a momentary glimpse of saurian and shark locked in a vicious death struggle, all claws and teeth. Then they both went under.

Bijoux swallowed the rising panic in her throat. She had come to help those in need by beckoning Onara’s call. And yet here they were, most assuredly incurring her wrath.

Bijoux knew of only one creature that was a symbol of all that was good in the sea. She called upon it again, a deep purr permeating her entire form from head to toe.

There was a squeal and two dolphins dove out of the water to greet her. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Stop them!” she said, pointing in the direction of the sharks.

The dolphins veered off in different directions.

One mailed mitt stretched to grab a piece of reef. Beldin, his beard sopping wet, slowly dragged himself up to the surface. He had been bitten several times by the shark, but to little effect. The teeth couldn’t penetrate the bands of metal that encased him. And yet the most innocuous creature had done just that.

In his other hand, Beldin lifted a black sea urchin to the surface. Some of Beldin’s blood was still on its poisonous tips.

“It’s a good thing I’m made of sterner stuff,” said Beldin, spitting seawater.

Cal surfaced again, bleeding from a pattern of bite marks along one side. He looked in bad shape.

“Stay there Cal,” said Bijoux.

The big lizard grabbed hold of the side of the boat.

“No, Cal, wait—“

He tugged on the side to get his balance, only to flip the boat over. Bijoux launched into the air and glided over to a nearby outcropping of coral.

A shark fin sailed straight towards Cal.

“Magicus telum!”

A searing white bolt of magic darted into the water. The fin submerged again.

Vlad waved to Bijoux. He was in another boat with Sebastian and Ilmarė. “We’ve come to rescue you!” he said with a grin.

Vlad let go of the oars for a moment to peer over the side just as a shark fin sailed by. The oar whipped around sideways and batted Vlad across the back of the head. He tumbled head first into the water.

“Magicus telum!”

Bolt after magical bolt relentlessly sliced into the sharks whenever they appeared. Finally, they stopped surfacing altogether. Only bits of dolphin remained.

Ilmarė threw a rope to Vlad, who had difficulty remaining above water in his chainmail.

“Some rescue,” she said.

[talien]

Everyone was safely aboard the Shrike, although Calactyte, Vlad, and Beldin were wrapped in towels. The big saurian in particular was in bad shape, having suffered more than one bite from the sharks with only his scaly hide to protect him.

“Well, he’s a strange kid,” said Kham. “Looks like Captain Krubach decided to kidnap him out of the blue. They were headed for Freeport when they were hit by a freak storm. But that’s not the weird part.”

Ilmarė raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Ask him about his mommy,” said Kham.

Ilmarė crouched down to look Emric in the eye. “Can you tell us about your mother?”

“Oh yes!” said Emric, his eyes bright. “Mother can speak all the tongues of the birds and the creatures of the sea. Her voice can be like a storm crashing on the surf, or gentle like the barest hint of sea spray. Her songs and playing at the harp lure the naiads from their shoals with envy.”

“That’s great kid,” said Kham. “But what does your mom look like?”

Emric pointed at Cal, who looked pretty miserable. The big saurian’s head swung towards them when Cal sensed eyes upon him.

“What?” he said, dripping seawater from his nose holes.

“Like him,” said Emric. “Mother is very tall, with opaline skin the color of the moon on a deep velvet sea. Her eyes are quick and bright like emeralds and her hair is dark and lustrous black.”

“What?” asked Cal, saltwater still streaming from his nostrils.

“THAT’S what his mother looks like?” said Ilmarė. “I’m afraid to ask about the father…”

“I don’t know who my father is,” said Emric wistfully. “Mother never spoke of him.”

“I don’t think we would want to meet him anyway,” said Kham.

“Th' boy’s mother be goin' t' come lookin' fer th' lad,” said Captain Baldric. “Ye be havin' flouted th' Sea God’s will an' cast yer lot into a dire game. Yarris only knows what fate awaits ye.”

Kham jabbed a thumb in Cal’s direction. “If ‘Mother’ is half as ugly as Scaly, we’re going to have our hands full.”

“Hey!” said Cal, but he was too exhausted to even back up his protestation with a menacing growl.

“Agreed,” said Ilmarė. “We’ll find a place for him in Freeport.”

“And if we can’t?” asked Sebastian.

“Then maybe there’ll be some uninvited guests to the family reunion,” said Kham, patting the holsters beneath his coat.

[talien]

The morning sun glowed yellow on the waters of Freeport harbor, turning it into a smooth plate of gold. But it was a plate that could do with some scraping, washing and polishing.

“I hate this place,” said Ilmarė, wrinkling her nose.

Garbage mired the water: dead fish and rotting offal, broken creates, frayed and tattered cordages, bits of sailcloth, shattered spars and worn planks, pools of oil and sewage—all of it swirled together in the filth.

“There as many animals here as there are men,” said Bijoux, her ears flattened against her head.

Fat, greasy rats, raucous gulls, and sly crabs fought over the juiciest morsels in the muck and grime. The din of stevedores, longshoremen, fishwives, costermongers, chantey men, hucksters and draft animals assailed their ears. All of it was punctuated by the cries of the ever-present gulls.

“We should meet at The Goodly Fisher in Old City,” said Kham. “I don’t recommend sticking together.” He looked at his motley assortment of comrades. “You kind of stick out, even here.”

“You’ve been here before?” asked Vlad. “Where’s Old City?”

Kham pointed to the west. “Over there is the Merchant District. You can tell by the clock tower of the Merchant’s Giuld and the roof of the Opera House.” He pointed east. “That way is the Eastern District. Through there is Survytown and the jungles of A’val. Stay away from there.” He pointed straight ahead. “That big green dome belongs to the Sea Lord’s Palace. That’s Old City. Head straight for it, don’t talk to anybody, and keep the boy safe.”

The crew went to work securing the vessel as stevedores and longshoremen began the daunting task of unloading the cargo holds of the Shrike.

“Where are you going?” asked Bijoux.

“Away from you,” he said, pulling up the flaps of his jacket. Kham shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the gangplank to Freeport’s docks.

Sebastian was staring at the ships in the harbor. He exchanged a glance with Beldin.

“I see it,” the dwarf said.

Vessels from every known nation lay at anchor in the harbor or were moored in the docks. Amongst them were Canceri merchantmen, Naeraanthi trading cogs, Altherian carracks, Coryani trade galleys, Skohiir longships, a crimson-sailed Garundian slave ship, Magran brigantines, Freeporter caravels and a single, black-hulled dromon.

“See what?” asked Cal.

“Ymandragorians,” said Sebastian. The black hull of the dromon was unmistakably a ship of Ymandragore. Inside, demons were chained to its hull, the magical engines that propelled the evil ship across the ocean.

Sebastian pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. “We must be cautious.”

[talien]

The press of the crowd along Freeport’s tiny and ill-paved streets was overwhelming. It was all they could do to stay together.

“Dey should be close,” said Broled.

"There," Neyadis said over her shoulder, "they just turned down that alley."

"I think we better pick up the pace," said Broled as he walked faster towards the alley without attracting too much attention.

Zainat walked by Amalia. "Ya know," he said as he passed, "ya might be able to move faster if ya didn't carry that ridiculous sword."

"This flamberge has served Amalia better than any man," Amalia said, shrugging the huge wavy blade off of her shoulders.

“Have it your way,” said Zainat. “Me? I got some business to settle. I’ll catch ‘em ‘round the other side of the alley.”

“Fine,” said Broled, “but don’t be late.”

Zainat spat and disappeared into the crowd.

Freeport seethed with barely contained violence; few inhabitants were unarmed and all seemed dangerous. At every turn were grim reminders that they were not on their home ground. They were foreigners in a strange land, and worse, they were landlubbers.

The group they were trailing was too preoccupied with their own squabbling to even notice Broled grab Emric’s arm.

“Vell lad, you gave us quite a chase dere,” he said, resting his other hand on the hilt of his sheathed longsword. “But now ve have you and you are coming vith us.”

He looked over at the cat person, who looked stunned. “Dis needn’t concern you lot. Ve and de boy have unfinished business.”

The thugs they hired stepped into the alley behind them as Broled dragged Emric along.

“Stop dem,” said Broled over his shoulder.

Amalia walked forward and held the flamberge before her with both hands. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a wicked grin, her tail flicking in agitation behind her, “Amalia intends to.”

[talien]

The crowd parted like water as Zainat Zameri strode out into the center of the alley to face Kham. The usually raucous masses became silent in breathless anticipation of a duel.

“Well if it ain’t just my lucky day,” said Zainat with his peculiar accent. “I done thought Cam Val’Abebi went down with the Dauntless.” He eased back his midnight blue watch coat to reveal the mother-of-pearl handle of his flintlock. “There’s a bounty on yer head, boy.” Two more hired thugs flanked Zainat but stood off to the side. “And I intend to collect on it.”

Kham froze in mid-step. He pushed his back his jacket to reveal all four of his handgonnes. “It’s pronounced ‘kai-EM’. Have we met?”

“Fortunately fer you, not ‘til today,” said Zainat. “I hear ya run off from Altheria with the plans tah make a bunch of gonnes. From whatcher carrying there, I can see it’s true. Ya been abusin’ the privilege of an Altherian, boy. I’m here tah set things straight. I’m a callin’ you—“

BLAM! BLAM!

Kham’s hands drew and fired his handgonnes so quickly that they were a blur. Zainat dove to the side, but not fast enough. One of the shots blew a hole through his coat but was stopped by the chainmail beneath.

“100 gold to switch sides!” shouted Kham, reaching for his next pair of guns.

The two thugs hesitated, looking uncertainly between Zainat and Kham.

Zainat addressed his hired help out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll pay you 200,” he whispered.

“Now damn it all!” shouted Zainat, tossing his hat down onto the road in disgust. “I try to have a decent duel with ya, man to man, and ya had to go an’ be a coward about it.” In a flash, Zainat’s pistol was out and aimed at Kham’s head. “As fer you,” he said, “if ya wanna fight like a coward, then ya can run like one too!”

An unreasoning fear overcame Kham that chilled him to the bone. It was like the feelings he had when he gripped Soulripper: deep, primal, unreasoning. And it was also impossible to ignore. Against his will, Kham turned and ran off down the alley in the direction of his comrades.

Zainat picked up his hat. “Used tah be a time when a man could duel with honor,” he said with a sneer. Zainat screwed his hat onto his head. “If that’s their excuse fer a vanguard, Broled’s got the boy by now. Another time then, Cam.”

A strange mist welled up from the ground at his feet. Zainat turned and disappeared into the fog, whistling as he went.

[talien]

“Stop him!” shouted Vlad.

Bijoux crouched low to face off against a thug as two more stepped up against Vlad and Beldin.

“Hold them off,” said Sebastian, spreading his palms wide toward the thugs. "Fuco aspergo!"

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hands, washing over the thugs. Many fell to the ground, clutching their eyes and screaming. Then they were silent.

“Wow,” said Bijoux.

“Emric’s getting away!” said Vlad, blocking another thug’s scimitar. “Cal?”

Calactyte roared. “MOMMA’S COMING!”

The big lizard slammed through the thugs that were still standing, batting them aside like reeds in a field.

Then a black-skinned, white-horned woman stepped into his path. “Amalia loves a challenge,” she shouted as her huge flamberge sheared towards Cal.

Cal twisted his axe and deflected it, but it only served to guide the blow into his thigh instead of his shoulder. With a howl, he swung his axe again straight for her head—but Amalia blocked the attack with her two-handed sword. For a moment, they were locked in the struggle, evenly matched.

Amalia’s eyes were glowing with an infernal rage, the likes of which the big lizard had never seen before. She was smaller than Cal, not more than six feet tall at most, but her strength equaled his.

She shoved Cal off and cut a wide arc in front of her, forcing the saurian to take a step back. Then she pressed her advantage. With each attack, she shouted “HA!”

Cal took a clumsy swing at her head. She ducked, and the axe hewed a chunk of stone from the wall.

“HA!”

Amalia’s flamberge rent a wound when his arms were preoccupied with his axe. There was a flash of blinding pain that zig-zagged its way down Cal’s chest. The ss’ressen fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

Amalia backed away as Cal’s companions advanced. “Big dumb lizard is no match for Amalia!” she shouted. Then she turned and ran off into the crowd.

Kham sprinted around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of Cal. He was out of breath.

“There is a scary guy with a flintlock…over there,” he said, hands on his knees. “We better…oh.” The expanding pool of blood touched his foot.

Bijoux leaned down and put both of her claws on the lizard’s chest. She purred, and a golden glow engulfed Calactyte’s prone form. The wounds closed, but they were still jagged and red.

“He’ll survive,” said Ilmarė. “But we lost the boy.”

Kham shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “Maybe we should have stayed together. I don’t know what came over me…”

“Magic,” said Vlad. “I’ve experienced it before.”

Kham thrust his hand in his pockets, trying to compose himself. “Okay then. We need to figure out a way to get Emric back.”

“He’s not even Cassicus,” said Ilmarė. “I say let them keep him.”

“He is a child in need,” said Sebastian. “I will not leave Emric to the vagaries of fate when Ymandragorians are about.”

“And he’s a human child,” said Beldin. “So it is my duty to return him safe.”

Cal struggled to his feet. “He thinks…I look like…his mother,” he said, as if that were reason enough.

“So we regroup, and then what?” said Ilmarė. “We don’t know who those people were or where they’ve taken him.”

“I know how we can find out,” said Kham, pointing at one of the thugs lying in the street.

[talien]

The streets of Freeport were loud, smelly and crowded. Beggars and harlots plied their trade at all hours and without shame. Players and jugglers busked at every corner not given over to an impromptu game of knucklebones or a bout of serious drinking and social commentary by off-duty sailors. Hucksters purveyed all manner of snacks, gewgaws, gimcracks, and home remedies, wheeling their pushcarts through the throngs or vending their wares from boxes slung around their necks.

“Who is this Captain Blax?” asked Vlad.

“Someone important in Freeport,” said Kham. “Important enough that she would be very put out if the boy was the successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

“Why?” asked Sebastian.

“Because, if it’s true that Emric is of the val’Ossan line, his ascension to the throne would unite Freeport and Milandir,” said Kham.

Raised voices, flying fists, and blood seemed to be the acceptable course of business in Freeport. Most alleys featured an unconscious form. Whether they were passed-out drunks or victims of illicit commerce was unclear.

“What about the people we left in the alley?” asked Bijoux as she stepped around a body.

“Oh, don’t worry about them. Freeport will take care of its own,” said Kham with a smirk.

The streets were uneven and badly paved. Chamber pots were indiscriminately emptied from upper windows. Sebastian sidestepped the contents of something foul as it landed with a splash next to him.

“I see him!” shouted Ilmarė, pointing at some commotion ahead in the crowd. There was a lot of shouting and fist-waving up ahead.

Six rough-looking men clad in quilt doublets and bearing cudgels had cornered a trio of well-dressed young boys. One of them looked familiar.

“Emric!” said Vlad.

It looked as though Emric had escaped his captors, though he faced a new threat. He had changed his clothes as well. He wore a faded rust-colored doublet.

“Alright, out of the way boys,” said Kham, pushing back his overcoat to reveal the four holstered handgonnes. He stepped through the crowd of men and grabbed Emric. “This little fellow owes me money.”

“This is none of your business,” said one of the men. “These little bastards need to be shown some respect.”

Behind them, Sebastian pointed at an ugly woman dumping her chamber pot out a window. Much to her surprise, the chamber pot floated out of her grasp.

“Don’t worry,” said Kham, “I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“I don’t think you understand,“ said the thug, thumping his club into an open palm. “If you don’t get out of the way, you’re going to get taught a lesson too.”

Then the chamber pot splattered its contents all over the man’s head. He sputtered in rage, swung his club around blindly, and then slipped and fell in the muck.

“I think we’ve all learned a lesson here,” said Sebastian. Vlad, Beldin, and Calactyte stepped up behind him, weapons drawn.

The thugs scattered. Kham kept a tight grip on Emric.

“You alright kid?” he asked.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy attempted to wriggle out of his grasp. “I don’t owe you any money! I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

“Something’s wrong,” said Ilmarė.

Sebastian crouched down to look the boy in the eye. “What did they do to you, Emric?”

“Emric?” the boy responded indignantly. “My name’s Camring. Let me go!”

“Cassicus?” said Kham. He was starting to sound a bit desperate. “Did he say Cassicus?”

Sebastian rose to his feet. “I fear this is neither Emric nor Cassicus.”

“So help me Osalian, one of these children are going to be reunited with his family today,” said Ilmarė. She leaned closer to Camring’s face. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any parents,” said Camring, sulking. “But if you hurt me you’ll be in big trouble! My Uncle Thralen will teach you a lesson!”

Vlad blinked. “Thralen? Thralen Vodric val’Ossan?”

“That’s him.”

“Take us to your uncle,” said Vlad.

“And maybe we won’t bring up this business with your friends today,” said Kham with a wink.

For the first time, Camring looked concerned. Then he led Kham by the hand down the street towards the Merchant District.