Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
This scenario is from the Black Sails Over Freeport adventure “Red Skies at Morning” by Green Ronin, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com)
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
This is the beginning of the home stretch. If you’ve played Black Sails Over Freeport, you know how it ends and you know who Leviathan is. It’s the answer to Sebastian’s question several chapters back: “Whatever happened with that sextant we picked up?”
Well, now we know. I had to think long and hard about how this adventure would accommodate the “old school” style of D&D. Like the Castle Amber adventure series, Black Sails Over Freeport is very much a resource management, long slog to the death kind of game. Which means PCs are going to die more often. So I had to nudge a caster (Peg-Leg Peligro) that could cast raise dead and resurrection to go along.
The other problem is that this adventure ultimately ends up stranding our characters on another plane with only their ship as a home. That means everything the PCs need between adventures has to be there with them, including the aforementioned cleric. This is where the Arcanis game shifts from traditional skullduggery, politics, and questions of honor and family to good old fashioned blowing things up and taking their stuff.
Black Sails Over Freeport has some problems, like the assumption that PCs of 6th level or higher won’t have access to fly, which is ironic since one of the cultists had access to a potion of fly. Then there’s the fact that the main villain, Billy Bones, is a poor imitation of Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) from Blue Velvet. I never liked Blue Velvet and I disliked the technology-bending requirements of having a villain who breathes from an air mask. Also, he’s always high on Abyss Dust, which I’ve replaced with Ghoul Juice…so the whole thing didn’t work for me.
Instead, I made Billy a foul-mouthed version of Jack Nicholson, sans breathing apparatus. I gave him a spellcaster’s bandolier that allowed him to draw several of his potions on the fly. In the end it didn’t matter: Billy knew the heroes were coming and swigged all the relevant potions he would need. The battle took a surprise twist that would have repercussions on the rest of the campaign.
Overall, I was happy with the drama and angst this adventure generated. It was a clear sign to the PCs that the gloves are off, as represented by the “loss” of the King in Yellow’s protection. We’re now playing in the big leagues, and the heroes are going to have to step it up if they plan to survive.
As usual, the streets of the Merchant District were much quieter than those of the neighbors, which made Sebastian stand out even more than usual. A long carriage passed by as he made his way down the street; its driver noted his demonic appearance with a look of disdain.
“You could use a spell to disguise yourself, you know,” said Kham.
Sebastian shrugged. “Why should I? Our names have been cleared. A mob has already tried to kill me and regretted it. It’s time they learned to fear me instead.”
“Something’s wrong,” said Beldin. “There’s no one at the gate to greet us.”
“The energy I felt last time we approached the house is noticeably absent as well,” said Sebastian.
They made their way to the front door, only to discover it unlocked.
Kham pushed open the door and then stopped. “Oh, this can’t be good.”
Copious splashes of blood lined the floor, walls, and even portions of the ceiling. The bodies of the two guards were still there, their throats slit. They were ritually mutilated, their bodily fluids used to sketch arcane symbols around their lifeless forms in an all-too familiar pattern.”
“More sacrifices to Leviathan,” said Sebastian.
They went room-by-room, weapons at the ready.
The souvenirs that had once lined Carthy’s halls were now in various states of disarray. The captain’s wheel lay on the floor in pieces, the fishing net had been ripped down, and the harpoon and shark jaw both shattered. The sitting room was in much the same condition. The couches and chairs were cut open, the drawers from the desk were emptied, and the books that lined the walls littered the floor instead, their bindings systematically removed and tossed in a corner. Oddly, both of the paintings were missing, cut from their frames.
Nothing was left intact; even the walls hadn’t escaped unscathed, with several holes punched through at random. They made their way up to the second floor.
Several drops of blood dotted the steps. They entered Carthy’s bedroom.
Kham looked around. “Carthy didn’t give up without a fight.”
One of the windows was smashed in and there were slashes that could only have been made by edged weapons. Jagged sprays of blood decorated the walls and floor.
Sebastian kneeled down and tugged something from the wall.
“What’s that?” asked Beldin.
“A piece of fabric,” said Sebastian. “Probably from a Cultist of Leviathan. Whoever came for Carthy paid for the privilege in flesh.”
They turned and walked back downstairs towards the exit.
Skiz stuck his head out of Kham’s haversack. “You hear that boss?”
Kham put one finger to his lips and cocked his head. Then he nodded.
He drew two of his pistols. “Whoever took Carthy is still here.”
Kham kicked open the door and Beldin barreled through, shield raised. A multitude of pistol blasts hammered his shield and shredded the doorway.
Kham stepped backed into the doorway when the blast subsided and fired off two shots. The cultists, arrayed in a semicircle around the opening to Carthy’s home, ducked behind cover.
Sebastian was next. “Fulminous arcus!”
Four cultists in a line were immediately fried as electricity sparked between them.
“Get the sextant!” shouted another cultist dressed in red robes that stood atop the carriage they had seen before.
Kham grabbed two more pistols from Skiz. “I KNEW I should have blown that thing up when I saw it.”
Two cultists jumped from the roof on top of Sebastian. They struggled with him for a second, but the dark-kin shook them off. His wings snapped outwards and with a mighty heave, Sebastian launched himself into the air and out of their grasp.
The lead cultist swore. He shouted a command and the driver of the carriage clucked the horses into a gallop. Sebastian flew overhead. Withdrawing a wand from his robes, he took careful aim…
And suddenly a sphere of force appeared in front of the horses. Unable to stop, the horses reared up, only to have the carriage smash into them, scattering its occupants.
Sebastian hovered, surveying the wreckage.
A flash of red robes whistled past him. The cultist leader was flying!
Sebastian flapped after him. He could match the cultist’s speed, but not for long…the dark-kin would tire justly as easily as if he had run the same distance.
“Dracuul,” he commanded. “Follow him. Don’t let him see you. I want him to think I gave up.”
Sebastian’s little bat familiar squeaked an affirmative and flapped after the flying cultist.
Beldin sat in the simple rowboat that carried him and Kham. He concentrated as the wave carried them aloft and then gently deposited them on the shores of Libertyville. Sebastian landed in front of them.
“The cultist went into that building,” he pointed at the largest structure.
Beldin looked around. “If this place is supposed to rival Freeport, it’s got a long way to go.”
Ha half-dozen huts were arranged in a semi-circle, facing the beach with what was probably the town’s signal fire in the center. A guard tower and another small structure whose function was not immediately clear formed a part of the town. All the buildings were in various states of decay, and most were slowly smoldering into ashes.
“This is the aftermath of the Unspeakable One,” said Sebastian.
Kham made a beeline for the tower. A set of steps wound its way up past a number of arrow slits before ending in a platform above.
Sebastian looked up. “I hear the sound of metal scraping on stone above. I’ll check it out.” He flapped up out of sight.
Beldin and Kham exchanged looks.
”Sounded like something heavy being dragged,” said Kham. “Like a metal container of some sort.”
Beldin shoved Kham out of the way. “Get back!”
The dwarf was doused with boiling oil. He roared in pain, struggling to wipe the oil from his face and beard.
Something else fell slowly, lazily towards them, trailing flames as it went. Kham’s mind barely had a chance to register that it was a torch.
He snapped one hand out to catch it. Beldin and Kham stood frozen, with the val holding the burning torch just inches over the dwarf’s head.
Kham slowly edged the torch away from Beldin and rubbed it out against a wall.
Beldin started breathing again. “That was close. Thanks.”
Kham nodded. “Now to deal with whoever threw that torch…”
There was a scream and a blur of blue robes fell past them. The cultist landed with a crunch.
Sebastian found a wheel that opened a secret door in the bottom of the tower. It led to a shaft, with a ladder that ended in darkness. Kham went first.
As he was climbing down, there was a strange creaking sound and the ladder suddenly snapped into the wall. Kham let go and slid to the bottom.
He kicked out both of his feet just as he neared the bottom, catching himself in a corner of the tight shaft. He skidded to a halt. Looming below him were several sharp spikes.
Kham let out a long, shuddering breath. “Whew.”
A second later several hundred pounds of armored dwarf landed on top of him. They rolled and fell. Kham grunted as one of the spikes scraped the breastplate he wore beneath his overcoat. For once, he was glad he had it on.
Sebastian landed with a flap of his wings. “You really need to work on your trap detecting skills,” said the dark-kin.
“I’m not really the trap-finding type,” said Kham.
Beldin was battered and bruised. “We noticed.”
They walked forward through a wider corridor. Kham was further ahead, Beldin in the center, and Sebastian behind.
One of the stones beneath Kham’s foot gave slightly. He heard a small click.
“Guys—“ warned Kham. But it was too late.
An iron portcullis crashed to the ground behind Kham and in front of Sebastian, trapping Beldin and separating them.
Cultists stepped out of rotating walls in the rooms beyond and behind the dual portcullises, pistols at the ready.
Kham shook his head. “You Freeporters really don’t deserve Althares’ gifts.” He drew his own pistols in a flash, fired, and holstered them again.
Two of the four cultists facing him looked in shock at their bloodied hands.
There was an explosion behind them. Sebastian was dealing with the cultists he encountered in his usual way.
“And for my next trick, here’s the gift of the dwarves.” There was a soft whirring sound as Kham and Beldin switched places, trapping Kham in the portcullis and leaving Beldin free.
The cultists took a horrified step back as the dwarf advanced on them.
Several mosaics depicted humanoid fish-like creatures performing rituals to an octopus-headed god. Although all of the scenes illustrated joyous events—bountiful harvests, successful hunts, and the like—they seemed dreadfully wrong somehow. Arcane symbols riddled the six columns that ran the length of the temple, some of which were etched with knives and chisels, some painted with large swaths of blood. But it was what lay in front of the altar that stopped Kham in his tracks. Or rather who.
Lying in a pool of his own blood, his clothes in tatters around his battered form, was Ezekiel Carthy. He was breathing, barely.
A line of cultists stood in front of the three steps that led to the altar, and more stood on either end of the platform on which the altar rested. A man with a shock of thinning, greasy hair, slick back straight on his head, stood over Carthy. He slowly lowered a cocked pistol to his prisoner’s head, another pistol in his other hand. Though he was some distance away, his threats were clear.
“Look at you!” he bellowed. “Standing there like you’re just going to !#(%ing stride in here and just !#(%ing take what I worked so hard to steal? NO you won’t, you !#(%ers!” He addressed the other cultists. “You’re all a !#(%ing disappointment. I’m so !#(%ing disappointed.”
“Well if it isn’t Billy Bones,” said Kham. He cocked both of his pistols. “Let Carthy go.”
“I don’t think you’re in a !#(%ing position to be giving orders, do you? If you take just one more step, ONE MORE, your friend here won’t live to see you take another!”
Kham fired both pistols. Billy Bones’ own pistols went flying.
“You dumb !#(%er!” Billy rubbed his hands. “Kill them!”
The cultists unleashed a barrage of pistol fire. Kham and Beldin ducked behind the nearest pillars as Sebastian stepped out.
The temple was long and narrow, no more than twenty five feet wide.
One of the cultists got out: “Uh oh.”
“Algor conus!”
A blast of freezing cold covered nearly every cultist in the room, stopping just short of Billy Bones and Carthy.
Kham swigged a potion. Then he ducked out from behind the pillar at a full run. He leaped and ran up one wall as a blast of flames wooshed down upon Sebastian and Beldin, summoned by Billy’s outstretched hand.
Kham stood upside down over Billy Bones’, Talon and Coomb’s dagger at the ready. For a moment they were eye to eye. Kham winked at him as he drew back to stab the Billy in the face.
Billy grabbed Kham by the throat.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!” chanted Billy Bones.
Kham watched in utter shock from the deck of his ship, the Emma, as Francisco’s fleet was utterly obliterated by the collective Continental fleet. Only he wasn’t Kham anymore, he was Zoltan Zaska, a vain, swaggering, swashbuckler.
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“Drac betrayed Francisco!” shouted the beautiful Black Jenny Ramsey, the love of Zoltan’s life. She was a flighty, fiery heiress whom Zoltan had initiated into the life of piracy. “He betrayed us!”
Carthy was there, shaking his head, chuckling to himself. “I should have seen it.” The explosions were deafening. Pirates abandoned their ships, swimming desperately to nowhere. “Drac must have made some sort of deal with Coryan. He’s getting rid of his enemies and making Freeport legitimate in one fell swoop!”
“Our fleets will be destroyed,” his Daen Danud, a proud, cruel captain. “All of my plans…lost…”
Moab Cys’varion, the elorii, shook his head. “I owe a blood debt to Francisco. And this is how he repays me?”
“We are running out of options,” said Zoltan. “Perhaps it is time to reconsider His offer.”
Cannonfire tore through plank and sail. Pirates screamed all around them.
“Would he…would He offer it again?” asked Daen, suddenly hopeful. “We all had the same dream…”
“Perhaps,” said Carthy. “If we all swore an oath together, He might reconsider.”
“Then I so swear!” shouted Moab, his face twisted into a hideous expression of rage. “Leviathan! If you save me now I will serve you!”
“As will I!” shouted Daen.
“And I,” said Carthy, a little less enthusiastically.
Seeing her lover make such an oath, Jenny grabbed his hand and shouted into the storm of fire and death. “As do I.”
Zoltan was overcome with jealousy. But he managed to keep his voice steady. “I do so swear,” he said as heroically as he could muster.
Suddenly, the explosions stopped. They were standing upon a coastline of mingled mud, ooze, and weedy Cyclopean masonry which could be nothing less than the tangible substance of earth's supreme terror - the nightmare corpse-city of R'lyeh, that was built in measureless aeons behind history by the vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars. Only a single mountaintop, the hideous monolith-crowned citadel whereon great Leviathan was buried, actually emerged from the waters.
All five of the pirates were awed by the cosmic majesty of the dripping monolith of elder daemons.
“Whatever this is,” said Daen, “it is not of this or of any sane planet.”
They were awed at the unbelievable size of the greenish stone blocks, at the dizzying height of the great carven monolith, and at the stupefying identity of the colossal statues and bas-reliefs.
The city was difficult to comprehend. It had vast angles and stone surfaces - surfaces too great to belong to anything right or proper on Arcanis, and impious with horrible images and hieroglyphs. The geometry of the dream-place was abnormal, non-Euclidean, and loathsomely redolent of spheres and dimensions apart from Arcanis.
Carthy and the others clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks that could have been no mortal staircase. The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarizing miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in the crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance shewed concavity after the first shewed convexity.
Something very like fright had come over all the explorers before anything more definite than rock and ooze and weed was seen. Each would have fled had he not feared the scorn of the others, and it was only half-heartedly that they searched - vainly, as it proved - for some portable souvenir to bear away.
Zoltan climbed up the foot of the monolith. “There’s something here!”
The others followed him and looked curiously at the immense carved door with the now familiar squid-dragon bas-relief.
“It’s like a great barn door,” said Jenny. There were ornate lintel, threshold, and jambs around the door, though they could not decide whether it lay flat like a trapdoor or slantwise like an outside cellar-door.
Moab pushed at the stone in several places without result. Then Daen felt over it delicately around the edge, pressing each point separately as he went. He climbed interminably along the grotesque stone molding—that is, one would call it climbing if the thing was not after all horizontal.
“How could any door in the universe could be so vast?” asked Carthy.
Then, very softly and slowly, the acre-great lintel began to give inward at the top; and they saw that it was balanced
Daen slid down along the jamb and rejoined his fellows, and everyone watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal. In the fantasy of prismatic distortion it moved anomalously in a diagonal way, so that all the rules of matter and perspective seemed upset.
The aperture was black with a darkness almost material. That tenebrousness was indeed a positive quality; for it obscured such parts of the inner walls as ought to have been revealed, and actually burst forth like smoke from its aeon-long imprisonment, visibly darkening the sun as it slunk away into the shrunken and gibbous sky on flapping membranous wings. The odor rising from the newly opened depths was intolerable.
“I think I hear something…a nasty, slopping sound,” said Zoltan.
Everyone listened, and everyone was listening still when It lumbered slobberingly into sight and gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness.
They looked up in horror at Leviathan in his full majesty. The Thing could not be described—there was no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled.
“You are my Full-Fathom Five,” it somehow communicated. “Under my direction, you will become the scourge of the seas. You will plunder and spill blood as no pirates before have dared, for you will do it tirelessly, and you will do it with a god at your side. You will teach the navies of the world that what they have bought is not peace but a respite. And you will teach the pirates of Freeport that they are not worthy to bear that title. They will join us or they will be thrown out to sea—piece by piece.”
Five items appeared before them.
A ship’s bell materialized in front of Daen. “With one peal of this bell, you can summon, create, and control the undead, raising skeletons from the sea floor or zombies from the butchered corpses of an adversary’s deck.”
A spyglass appeared before Moab. “Peering through this spyglass will allow you to travel between planes—flashing out of nowhere to slaughter a ship’s crew and then vanishing while the water flows red and hot with fresh blood.”
To Carthy appeared a sextant. “Angling the sextant into proper position will give you easy transit of the world’s oceans—your sails will fill even in a doldrums, and your decks will stay dry in the roughest seas.”
A hook appeared before Jenny. “This hook will give you the power to dominate men’s minds. The mightiest admirals will quail at the sight of your sails on the horizon, and your follows will endure any torture, die any death, if it furthers your cause.”
Finally, a pistol was in Zoltan’s hands. “This pistol will control the creations of men’s hands, ruining the weapons of your enemies, or warping ships’ planks until the nails fly out of them like shrapnel.”
Zoltan looked down at the pistol. Next to Jenny, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Floating in between worlds, Kham continued to experience the history of the Freeport’s most notorious pirates.
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The Full-Fathom Five, with a god at their head, embarked on the most savage mission the oceans had ever seen. Within just a few weeks, they had captured and sunk dozens of vessels, putting their crews to the sword in blasphemous rituals while Leviathan’s avatar looked on in ecstasy.
Coryan sent a warning to Freeport: this had to stop NOW. Drac’s successor, Sea Lord Cromey, knew only too well how much the city stood to lose if it went to war. So, assembling a fleet of the most trusted captains on the island, he took to the waves to seek out and destroy the marauding band.
Cromey’s men met the Five on the high seas, and they fought frequent and bloody battles. Always, their projectiles exploded in the air before striking the Five’s armada, and their grappling hooks melted when they struck home. Then, when the Freeport fleet closed enough to send men over to the enemy vessels, they discovered far greater problems: whenever a Freeporter fell, he rose from the blanks as a gibbering zombie, hungry for the flesh of his former comrades.
Cromey grew desperate. Then he remembered Hell’s Triangle.
The patch of ocean had become legendary as a graveyard of ships, for those who sailed in never returned. Even if the skies were clear for miles around beforehand, when a ship actually approached the Triangle, storm clouds soon gathered and winds whipped the boat. Then all became quiet.
Cromey knew he couldn’t beat the pirates in a straight fight. But he thought he might be able to do the next best thing: lure them into the Triangle and drive them out of the world forever. He readied his captains for a frantic game of cat-and-mouse in the most dangerous water in the world. It was a mad plan, but it was the only chance Freeport had left. It had to work.
It was a bleak moment for Freeport. Then fate lent a hand.
Cromey, pacing his flagship, paused in shock as a bloated hand, dripping brine and stinking of death, slopped onto his deck. The pathetic creature that stumbled aboard looked familiar.
“Carthy?”
“It is I,” croaked Carthy. “Please, hear me out.”
Cromey’s officers, thirsty for vengeance, drew their blades and advanced on Carthy.
“Wait,” said Cromey. As he looked into the undead man’s face, something there reminded him of the man who had gone to his death valiantly in the service of the city. “Stand down.” The men grudgingly lowered their weapons. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Grateful for the courtesy, Carthy explained the whole bloody history of the Full-Fathom Five in Cromey’s cabin.
Cromey was unimpressed. “Your tale sickens me, Carthy.”
Carthy didn’t react. “I know what you’re trying to do. The Five know well of the Triangle. And they will approach it without fear because they have a tool that will let them survive its battering seas…or at least they believe they do.”
With that, he drew a sextant from his coat pocket. The brass device pulsed with magical energy and bathed Cromey’s cabin in an otherworldly blue light.
“This sextant,” said Carthy, “is one of the artifacts Leviathan brought to the world when he clothed himself in flesh. Without it, their fleet cannot survive the maelstrom. And without me on their side, you should have a fighting chance to defeat them. Such is my penance,” he added with a faint smile. “I throw myself on your mercy, though I deserve none.”
Cromey took the sextant and turned it over in his palms. He felt as though he were holding all of Freeport in his hands.
Kham awoke gasping on an altar, Peg-Leg Peligro worriedly hovering over him.
“Cadic be praised!” he shouted. “Ye’ve been brought back!”
Kham sat up. “Brought…back? I was…dead?”
“Aye. And not just dead; yer spirit was nearly obliterated too. I didn’t think I had th’ power in me, and frankly I still don’t,” said Peg-Leg seriously. “Cadic must have somethin’ special in mind fer ye.”
Captain Baldric, Peg-Leg Peligro, Sebastian, Beldin, and Carthy were all huddled on deck in front of the Nǎoké.
“Kham!” shouted Beldin. “You’re alive!”
Kham smiled and waved. “Great to see me too.” He was stinking drunk.
“We were just discussing which ship to take into Hell’s Triangle.” Sebastian indicated Captain Baldric and the Nǎoké. “But it seems that problem has been solved.”
“Aye, I’ll be takin’ ye into th’ Triangle mesself.”
Kham scratched the back of his head. “This wouldn’t have to do with the publicity coup that a victory would bring you in snaring that seat on the Captain’s Council, would it?”
Baldric shot a glare at Peligro with his good eye. “Ye sure he’s been dead all this time?”
Peligro grinned. “Aye, deader than a doornail. But Cadic has other plans for ‘im, methinks.”
“I’m telling you, this isn’t a good idea,” said Carthy. “There’s man-eating sea creatures larger than any ship, and a strange fog that envelopes everything traveling into the Triangle.”
“Hell’s Triangle is four days from Freeport,” said Sebastian. “The Moonsilver Orb will open a portal to R’lyeh.”
“Those who enter the Triangle do not return,” said Carthy. “Even if you survive the horrors of the Triangle, I don’t know what awaits you on the other side. We might never be able to return to this plane of existence.”
“I do,” said Kham sternly. “We’re going, Carthy, get over it.”
“What about Vlad?” asked Beldin.
“We cannot wait,” said Sebastian. “We’ve been waiting for days while Peg-Leg was trying to revive you.”
“Pardon me for slowing you down,” said Kham with a smirk. He walked across a plank onto the Nǎoké and lay down on the deck. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Red Skies: Part 8 – There’s a War Going On, You Know
The Triangle’s waters varied greatly. Most often, the seas surrounding it were rough, sporting whitecaps and making sailing difficult. Sometimes the Pale Sea’s wrath was terrible, with swells of up to twenty feet.
A small, fast galley with two masts was visible. A Kolter Titan GG swivel gun was mounted on the port and starboard sides, and its figurehead was carved in the shape of a snarling wolf.
“That’s Red Wolf’s ship,” said Kham. “A skohir tribesman.”
“Th’ must be hired by th’ Emperor,” said Baldric. “Already, th’ war has come t’ Freeport. Well then, let’s bring Freeport t’ th’ war!” He drew a cutlass and pointed at the ship. “Fire at will!”
Sebastian flew up into the air and unleashed a blast of flames. The heat washed over the ship to no effect.
There was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning blasted into Sebastian. He spiraled down to the Nǎoké’s deck, trailing smoke as he went.
“They’ve got powerful magic defenses,” Baldric said quietly.
The two ships pulled alongside each other. “Time to get up close and personal in that case!” shouted Kham. He grabbed some of the ship’s rigging and drew Talon.
Baldric stepped off the deck of the ship, using the power of Cho Sun’s ring to form a bridge made of water between the two ships. A dwarf stood on the other side. “Come, ye Illirite dog!” snarled the dwarf. “Stumpy Hookhand be waitin’ fer ye!”
More lightning arced between the ships as a one-eyed Altherian caster wearing a tall black top hat and a dress coat, but little else, gestured and chanted.
Sebastian got to his feet. “That’s it. Now he’s made me angry.”
Kham slashed the rope and swung through the air. As he was at the apex of the swing, the rope snapped.
“Son of a…”
Kham dropped like a rock into the water.
Sebastian whispered something and his flesh turned stone gray. Then he turned to face the rival wizard.
Three glowing motes of electricity crackled into existence around the enemy caster. He pointed and the orbs sizzled after Beldin and Sebastian.
Sebastian withstood the attack and countered, hurling a green orb at his opponent. It fizzled upon impact with a magical field that encompassed the wizard.
Beldin blocked Stumpy’s mace with his shield. When he counterattacked with Windcutter, he suddenly understood why the dwarf’s last name was Hookhand. The dwarf caught the haft of the axe in a wicked hook that covered the stump of his arm.
They stood immobile, weapons locked. “It’s disgraceful, to see you selling your services to humans like this,” snarled Beldin.
“Spare me ye blather,” spat Stumpy. “I serve the Coryan Emperor these days. Which side be YE on?”
The mote of electricity struck Beldin and he staggered backwards, nearly falling off the deck. Stumpy pressed his advantage.
Cannon fire echoed back and forth between the two ships. Clayton “Red Wolf” Saragosa roared in rage and charged after Beldin.
The dwarf ducked as the skohir swung his huge axe. It bit deeply into Stumpy’s throat. The dwarf, gurgling a curse, fell to the ground.
“You’ll pay for that!” shouted Red Wolf. He swung the axe over his head in a masterful display meant to intimidate his opponent.
Beldin was unimpressed. He kicked Red Wolf’s knee, knocking him off balance. Then he followed up with a vicious hack to the barbarian’s upper arm.
“Ye cannot beat me, mon!” shouted the one-eyed wizard at Sebastian. “Ye fightin’ me on me own turf! I can resist anytin’ ye throw at me!”
“Oh yeah?” Sebastian strafed overhead. “Resist this: Algor conus!”
He unleashed a freezing blast of rime onto the one-eyed wizard. Several pirates, much of the ship, and the wizard himself became flash-frozen statues.
Red Wolf roared again in frustration as he realized the battle was lost. He slapped Beldin hard with the broad side of his axe. The dwarf struggled to get to his feet, but much of the deck was frozen. Seeing his chance, Red Wolf raised his axe…
Only to look down at the sizzling hole in his torso. Beldin could make out Sebastian’s flapping form on the other side of it; Red Wolf was the recipient of one of the dark-kin’s acid orbs.
Red Wolf fell to the deck.
Beldin picked up the axe. “Adamantine,” he said in appreciation. “That will do nicely.”
“What happened to Kham?” shouted Baldric from the Nǎoké’s deck.
“I have no idea.” Sebastian landed back on the deck. “I didn’t see him down there. But he’ll show up again, I’m sure. He always does.”
Kham plunged into the water. He struggled for breath, trying to think of a way out of his predicament. He always managed to find one.
And yet, he had been tripped up again. Acts of derring-do that came so easily to him had suddenly become more difficult. He felt clumsy and slow. Perhaps Sebastian was right…maybe he had relied on the King in Yellow far more than he realized.
Then Kham remembered the box. It turned itself into a boat! He uttered the command word as he plummeted down, down, down…
And once again he experienced the world from Zoltan’s point of view, plummeting for days.
Quote:
One moment they had been closing with the Freeport fleet, inflicting punishing losses on them, and the next…well, it was hard to say. A storm struck, and then a wave big enough to drown the entire world crashed into them.
When the four undead pirates regained their senses, they were clinging to the wreckage of their respective ships, floating through a chain of small islands.
A charming young man with a roguish smile and icy eyes appeared in their minds eyes instead.
“Cadic!” wailed Moab.
“So dogs,” roared the towering apparition, “what capital mischief ye been making! But now, I’m calling an end to yer gamboling. I leave ye here, on these Islands of the Damned, to live out the dogs’ lives ye have chosen for yourselves, forever removed from the company of Freeport’s mortals—and their blood, which ye crave, and their trinkets, for which ye kill them."
Daen renewed his chant for Leviathan, but Cadic’s laughter nearly split their eardrums. “As for the whelp ye worship, he may be crafty, but he ain’t as clever as he claims. And now he’ll pay.”
With that, Cadic revealed Leviathan, hanging thirty feet above the water, surrounded by a whirling globe of chains. He still bore his avatar form, and the artifacts (minus the sextant) that focused his power circled around him.
“It’s come to this,” said Cadic. “One last chance I give ye; renounce yer ways and swear fealty to me.”
“You will die at my hands!” came Leviathan’s response.
Cadic gave out a great sigh. Then he ripped Leviathan to pieces.
There was a bursting as of an exploding bladder, a slushy nastiness as of a cloven sunfish, and a stench as of a thousand opened graves. For an instant an acrid and blinding green cloud befouled the four pirates. Then bloody chunks of their master plummeted into the ocean, sending up great gusts of steam as they struck. But Cadic wasn’t done.
“So much fer yer flesh, whelp,” he spat. “Yer spirit I condemn to the Abyss.”
With that, he hurled the divine energy of Leviathan towards the island of R’lyeh where they had first met the squaminous being; it struck with the force of a meteor, plowing a mile-long furrow into the sod. The force propelled the artifacts from his body sending each flying toward a nearby island.
“And so ye won’t get lonesome,” jeered Cadic, “here’s the trinkets ye craved so greedily.” The god opened his palm, and thousands of pounds of gold and jewels and other valuables rained from the sky, burying what was left of Leviathan. Then Cadic blew across the face of the water, and the island vanished with a whisper of wind.
The pirates cringed, waiting for Cadic’s next attack, but the god had departed, leaving them to their fate.
Eventually, the Nǎoké entered a patch of thick fog. The water was very still and there was only a slight breeze. Every sound was magnified in the stillness. The ropes rubbed against the mast, the ship’s boards creaked, and the lapping of the water on the ship’s hull combined to become both annoying and creepy.
“We’re at the center of Hell’s Triangle,” said Carthy. “We’re almost there.”
Suddenly, two sailors were yanked out of the fog. Beldin ran over to the edge, axe at the ready, only to be suddenly snatched into the mists by a huge tentacle.
“I can’t see it!” shouted Sebastian. He was afraid to fly too far away from the ship, lest he lose it completely. “Incendiares globus!”
The fog was burned away by a blast of flames in the sky. There, suction-cupped to the side of the Nǎoké, was a horrible green monstrosity. It had four tentacles, a single eyestalk, and a huge, lamprey-like maw.
Sebastian caught a glimpse of Beldin being tossed through the air like a seal at the mercy of a shark’s maw. Then he disappeared into the beast’s mouth.
That was all the motivation he needed. Sebastian unleashed another blast of flames. The thing hissed at him, its mouth moving as it chewed on the undoubtedly tough dwarf.
“Algor conus!”
Ice crusted over the beast. It shook the rime off with a shrug of its rubbery hide.
Crossbow bolts dotted its hide. To Sebastian’s amazement, they popped out after a moment.
“It’s healing itself!” shouted Carthy.
Sebastian shook his head in disbelief. He had to stop this.
“Multimodis oris!”
Shimmering blue jaws appeared in the air. Sebastian pointed and they sailed after the thing on the ship, gnawing on its blubbery hide. Finally, the beast reacted, flailing helplessly as it struggled to dislodge the jaws.
It released its hold on the ship and fell into the water with a mighty splash. Red stained the water and the thing’s floating carcass drifted in the water.
Beldin burst out of it, sputtering. He concentrated and rose out of the water, landing effortlessly on the deck.
“Took you long enough,” said the dwarf. “I had to keep drinking healing potions in there just to keep myself alive.”
The skies began to look dark and ominous and the winds picked up tremendously. Thunder rattled the decks and lightning lit up the skies. Then the seas turned rough and the rains came, bringing the storm in earnest. And still there was no sign of Kham.
Sebastian lifted the Moonsilver Orb over his head and the storm parted. The stars and the moon hung brightly in the sky. A swirling wind drove the Nǎoké toward the Triangle’s center. A massive, swirling patch of water opened up.
Lightning rose from its depths toward the cloudless sky. An ear-shattering thunder boomed occasionally, causing the hull to vibrate.
“Is it supposed to do that?” Beldin asked, staring dubiously at the huge whirlpool in the center.
“I have no idea!” shouted Sebastian over the thunder.
“It’ll tear us apart!” shouted Baldric.
As the ship closed in on the whirlpool, Carthy stood on the forecastle and raised the sextant above his head. He spoke a word in a strange tongue.
In an instant, a golden sphere of force surrounded the ship in a protective bubble. The lightning and water raged around them, but the sphere kept all within safe.
“Will that help any other ships nearby?” asked Beldin. “Just in case Kham’s still out there, I mean.”
Carthy blinked. “Perhaps. If he’s close enough…”
Suddenly, a dreadful presence overcame them. It was barely humanoid, with insectoid like legs and a skull for a head. Covered in bone and with a long, whipping tail behind it, the devil advanced on Carthy.
“An Osyluth!” shouted Sebastian. He handed the Orb to Baldric. “Beldin, get back!”
But it was too late. The osyluth’s mere presence paralyzed Beldin in terror. He was unable to move.
Sebastian swooped over to touch his dwarf ally. “Tergus lapideu!”
The beast latched onto Beldin and tried to tear him apart, but it found the dwarf to be as hard as stone.
“Algor conus!” Sebastian flew up into the air and unleashed a blast of cold at the devil. The thing slowly turned to look up at him.
Sebastian swallowed hard.
Then it was somehow in the air next to him. It landed on Sebastian with both claws, its hindlegs digging into his torso. They slammed into the deck.
“Freeport is for Losknek’s to own and no other!” it hissed.
Sebastian felt something prick his flesh just above his thigh. He struggled to move, but it seemed as if his very strength was leaking out of him through the window.
The devil howled as Beldin’s axe bit deeply into the back of its skull. It whirled to face him.
Peg-Leg was chanting, pointing at Beldin, bestowing the blessings of Cadic upon him. The dwarf stood between the devil and Carthy.
The devil hissed and stepped over Sebastian to renew its attacks upon the dwarf. Sebastian struggled to his feet. Even with his protective magic, Beldin was no match for the devil one on one.
He summoned what little remained of his strength. “Multimodis oris!”
Jaws flew out to latch onto the devil’s arms. Its tail was caught in mid-strike, keeping the poison stinger at bay.
The devil struggled in vain, helpless.
Beldin struck a killing blow. The Osyluth burst into flames and disappeared.
The ship sank beneath the waves within the sextant’s protection. As it sank, Carthy began to change. His flesh took on a deathly pallor.
”I die now, but not with regret,” said Carthy. “You have given me a chance to pay for my past crimes, and I thank you for it. I was one of the Full-Fathom Five! I sailed with those vile brutes nearly two centuries ago. We were once the finest captains who ever sailed the seas, and we served proudly in Freeport’s navy. But Drac betrayed us and left us for dead; and to save our lives we traded our souls to Leviathan. The crimes we committed upon the oceans, I dare not speak. They grew too great for me to bear, and I knew the Five must be stopped.”
Beldin stood with Baldric in the pitching storm. “So that’s what’s been excised from Freeport’s history all this time?”
Carthy nodded. “Leviathan had five artifacts on his person. I stole the artifact that gave him command of the seas, the sextant. The captains of Freeport drove the Five into Hell’s Triangle, where the vortex swallowed them. But I fear they live still, those bloodthirsty brutes. And I fear they have collected the rest of Leviathan’s artifacts, which would make them unspeakably powerful.”
“Th’ same sextant that ended up in Drak Scarbelly’s gut,” said Baldric sadly. “And look where it has brought ye.”
“Beware the Full-Fathom Five, my courageous friends! They are cunning and vicious beyond my power to describe! But you must battle them all if you hope to return. For the artifacts unlock R’lyeh’s treasures. You need them all to find what you seek. But they hold secrets you can’t imagine…the dark powers of Leviathan…and his Son…”
“Son?” asked Beldin. “What son?”
But Carthy was fading fast. He slumped to his knees. “Farewell, and may Cadic put wind at your backs. I ask one favor before I depart. If you still see Jenny Ramsey, tell her Ezekiel Carthy still…still…”
Carthy gasped for breath and his broken body fell to the deck.
Suddenly, the ship slipped through the whirlpool and fell from a great height. With a tremendous splash that threw everyone to the deck, the ship landed upon a wide ocean. Above them, the whirlpool disappeared.
Sebastian got to his feet, the weakness passed. All around them was a green ocean and a sky filled with unknown stars.
“We made it,” he said breathlessly.
“But we be where, exactly?” asked Baldric.
“And who else is with us?” asked Beldin. “I saw something. Two ships, one large, one small, drawn in as well.”
Sebastian flew up to survey their surroundings and then landed again. “Well, I don’t see anything now, but it gets hazy at a distance.”
“Then we’re stranded here,” said Beldin.
“There’s something else,” said Sebastian. “Four islands.”
Baldric clapped Sebastian and Beldin on the back. “We made it through! There are the islands, but we seem t’be missin’ one…R’lyeh itself, I assume. Well, that means we have time to gather th’ artifacts that Carthy went on before th’ sextant killed ‘im. Poor lad.”
This scenario is from the Black Sails Over Freeport adventure “Red Skies at Morning” by Green Ronin, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com)
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
• Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
With the pending birth of my son, I knew I wouldn’t have a lot of time to game in the near future. So I had to wrap up a bunch of Black Sails Over Freeport adventures quickly. Five islands in just twelve hours...it seems impossible. What the time pressure did for me as a DM was really condense all the cool parts of Black Sails Over Freeport, allowing me to discard the stupid parts.
The adventure actually inserts a vampire mcguffin, whom I transplanted from the Arcanis game (the only friendly vampire who could possibly be interested in working with the PCs, I might add). Haron von Grebel wasn’t thrilled to be working with Kham, but it’s better than slaving away for all eternity under Daen Danud. I was particularly proud of the makeover I gave Daenud, whose Blood Magus powers came in…uh, handy. It also was the absolute longest battle in my twenty years of gaming; long enough that spell durations finally just ran out. The fact that I role-played Daen as a foul-mouthed Skeletor from the He-Man cartoons probably didn’t help his image.
Zalton Zaska’s creepy machinations remained, but the endless warring by his clones was glossed over. I also skipped the majority of the stupid Skull Dugger Drawler/Mauler/Trawler/Bawlers. Speaking of Zaska, Kham’s player wanted to remake his character, and Zaska allowed me to basically inject Antonio Banderas directly into his skull.
Upon defeating Zaska, the PCs are effectively in control of a floating fortress. Von Grebel helps them plot their attack on Sycorax (aka Black Jenny Ramsey), but things don’t go as planned. Thus we have a nail-biting race against time before the skull fortress smashes into Sycorax’s pyramid. There wasn’t too much monkeying around either, if you know what I mean.
That leaves one last bad guy, Moab Cys’varion. He’s no dummy. The PCs have three of the four artifacts, and the artifact Cys’varion controls allows him to gate anyone to anywhere. For once, the bad guy goes on the offensive!
Overall, the biggest challenge wasn’t escaping the islands. It was Kham and Sebastian’s frustration with getting lots of gold but no resolution. While Beldin and Vlad were rolling in riches, the two tortured souls wondered what the hell they were fighting for. In the next chapter, they’re about to find out.
Vlad blinked his eyes. They had caught him at a weak moment. He had stayed the night at the Marquis Moon in Patricia’s company, only to wake up in the darkness, stripped of his armor and weapons.
Rough hands undid the gag.
Vlad focused on the woman in front of him. She wore black studded leather and knee-high boots. Her waist-length flame-red hair was tightly woven into dreadlocks, and a wicked scar crossed from the top of her forehead to the middle of her right cheek.
“Baumann,” he croaked.
“That’s right,” said Captain Morgan Baumann with a smirk. “Looks like the rumors are true. She wasn’t exactly a serving maid, but yer tastes run a little callow, don’t ye think?”
Vlad swallowed a few times, trying to generate saliva again in his mouth.
“I’m goin’ to ask ye some questions,” said Baumann. “I want answers.”
Vlad tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his head just lolled in her direction. “Go ahead.”
“Where were yer friends going?”
“Going?” Vlad blinked. “Hell’s Triangle. After R’lyeh. Leviathan.”
Baumann nodded. “Right. I know all about that.”
“How?”
“Because we’re trapped in Hell’s Triangle along with ‘em, idiot!” snapped Baumann. “I want t’ know how we get out!”
Vlad tried to peer around him. He was in a small cabin. Another pirate stood with a cutlass out. They feared Vlad even when he was tied up.
“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I was along for the ride.”
“Bah,” said Baumann. “They must have told you something.”
“I can find them for you.” Vlad licked his lips. “Give me my sword and my armor and I’ll lead you to them.”
Baumann barked a vicious laugh. “I’m no fool. I know what that sword o’ yers can do. I’ve seen it in action. Ye’ll not be seein’ yer sword again until you get us out o’ here. But in the mean time,” she nodded at the pirate, who leaned forward to put the blindfold over Vlad’s eyes again, “I’ll let ye think on it. Call if ye change yer mind.”
Everything went dark again. The door opened and closed. Vlad could hear footsteps, above and below, and men talking in whispers. They were afraid, Baumann’s bravado not withstanding.
They had taken his sword and shield, true. But Vlad had another trick up his sleeve, literally. He wiggled his ring finger on his left hand.
“Ye keep th’ sword away from ‘im,” said Baumann on the other side of the door. “But in the mean time, figure out how t’ use it.”
Yep, it was still there. The Carcosan Ring. Sebastian had infused it with his spells once more.
With a roar, Vlad strained and snapped his cloth bonds. He tore the blindfold from his face.
Footsteps stumbled towards the door. Vlad kicked it open with one booted heel and was rewarded by the sickening crunch of wood on flesh. The door splintered open and Vlad kept going.
There was another door across the cramped quarters. Vlad bashed right through it. Flimsy wooden doors on ships were hardly a match for the huge Milandisian.
Within, another startled pirate held Grungronazharr in his hands. Cries of distress echoed all over the ship.
Vlad shoved forward, grabbing the pirate by the throat. He spun so that his back was to the hull of the ship, one hand on the hilt of Grungronazharr.
“There’s no escape,” snarled the pirate, who still held onto the blade by its scabbard.
Vlad hooked one foot onto the bundle of armor and shield, folded neatly on the floor. Vlad tugged and Grungronazharr came free in his right hand just as he lifted his left palm, leaving the pirate with just a scabbard.
“You’re right,” said Vlad. “You should have run while you had the chance.”
The Carcosan Ring unleashed a blast of flames. The pirate disintegrated in the conflagration, but Grungronazharr protected Vlad. The explosion launched Vlad outwards through the weakened hull and into the ocean.
With the Kraken’s Claw on fire, Baumann’s crew was too preoccupied to give chase.
After a desperate moment when Vlad struggled to keep his armor and shield from sinking to the bottom of the ocean, he began swimming to the nearest island.
Islands of the Damned: Part 1a – The Isle of Undeath
As they navigated along the northern side of the island, Sebastian spied an inlet in the distance. When the Naoke sailed close enough for a better look, they saw a cove that extended inward for almost a quarter mile.
After a blessing from Father Peg-Leg, Beldin steered a rowboat past the rocky reef and landed on the island. The slope leading to the island proper became steeper as Beldin climbed, and the rocks and dirt were moist from sea spray. By the time the dwarf reached the top lip, he was wet and covered in a lot of mud.
Sebastian landed next to him. Beldin tried not to glare at the dark-kin with envy.
“From what I can see, there’s a forest over there.” Sebastian pointed to the right. “It appears to have been left undisturbed for hundreds of years. To our left,” he pointed to the left, “is an expanse of grasslands that follows the gradual slope of the eastern half of the island. The highest point that I can see is a large tower on the far eastern end of the island that rises about fifty feet.”
“So the tower it is.” Beldin was struggling to get some of the water and mud out of his armor. It was working its way into some uncomfortable areas.
“There’s also, closer to the middle of the island, some sort of stone table.”
Beldin stopped wringing out one of his boots and remembered Cho Sun’s ring. He concentrated and the mud sloughed off of him. “Sounds like an altar. Which means trouble.”
“Which means that’s our next stop.” Sebastian flapped into the air again.
Beldin stumped along when he suddenly paused. His footsteps sounded different.
The dwarf looked down at his feet.
The dark-kin flapped overhead. “Guess who I found wandering the beach?” he asked cheerily.
Vlad came into view. “Hi—”
The dwarf disappeared without a word as the trapdoor beneath him gave way.
Isles of the Damned: Part 1b – The Isle of Undeath
“Go, go, go!” shouted Sebastian. He flapped overhead, barely navigating the ten-foot wide corridor with his huge wings.
“More ghouls?” asked Vlad fearfully. They had encountered a room full of armed and armored ghouls, unlike the ones who skulked the drug dens of Freeport.
“Worse,” shouted Sebastian over his shoulder. “Skeletons.”
“Bah!” Beldin turned, Windcutter at the ready. “I’m not going to run from a bag of bones.”
Vlad bounced on his heels, torn between running after Sebastian or staying to help his friend. “How many?”
“More than I can count!” shouted Sebastian as he turned the corner out of sight.
A bleached mass of roiling bones came into view around the corner. They skeletons crawled and scrabbled over each other like ants, filling the entire hallway up with their mass.
“On second thought…” the dwarf took a few steps backwards.
“Beldin!” Vlad tugged on the dwarf’s shield, which was strapped across his back. “Let’s go!”
They both ran down the winding corner, back the way they had come. Wherever the first artifact was, its owner most assuredly knew that intruders had arrived.
They ran past Sebastian, who hovered overhead in a four-way intersection.
“What are you doing?” asked Beldin, opening a door on the other side of the room.
“Slowing them down: Atrum pampinea!”
Wriggling black tentacles sprung up behind them. The skeletons didn’t hesitate, surging right into the boiling mass of tentacles, their advance merely slowed but the grasping tendrils.
“Glad to see your tentacles are no longer yellow,” said Vlad. He followed Beldin into the room.
Isles of the Damned: Part 1c – The Isle of Undeath
A very peculiar tableau unfolded before them: in the southwestern corner of the room, the lower half of a pallid corpse was sticking out of a hole in the floor. A zombie was slowly jumping up and down on the corpse, assisted by two brethren, who were attempting to force down the lifeless form by prodding it with their swords. Three more zombies stood before them, patiently waiting for their turn with a body of their own.
The zombies whipped their heads around with looks of what could almost be mistaken for shame passing over their twisted miens. But the look faded to their customary grimace, and the grunts of effort changed to low moans of menace.
“I don’t have time for this,” said Sebastian. “Incendiaries globus!”
The room was ablaze with flames.
“I’m not sure,” said Beldin, “but I think one of the zombies fell down the hole.”
A door on the other side of the room burst open as a patrol of ghouls came charging in.
“More ghouls,” sighed Vlad. He held Grungronazharr before him as if to ward off the ghouls by its mere sight alone.
The lead ghoul, wearing chain mail, smiled a wicked, toothsome grin…
That was promptly blasted off its skull by another of Sebastian’s fireballs.
Beldin was busy with his back to the door, heels dug in. “I can’t keep this up all day you know!”
The door shuddered from the skeletons on the other side.
“Nor can I,” said Sebastian. “It appears we are trapped.”
“If you keep that up, you’ll certainly die here.” A humanoid form coalesced out of the hole where the zombie disappeared. “This has to be the most poorly planned attack I’ve ever witnessed.”
The dark-kin squinted. “Von Grebel? I thought we left you back in Canceri.”
Haron von Grebel was unmistakable. “I could say the same about you. I was on a mission for Akali Vervain, hidden in the cargo of a ship bound for Freeport, when it was swept off course. The Leviathan Bell called me to Daen and I’ve been stuck here ever since.”
“So you’re not here to fight?” asked Vlad. He hadn’t lowered his sword.
“No. I’m here to help. The only way I can be free of Danud is if you kill him. I’ve been plotting my escape for months.”
The door shuddered. Bony fingers protruded from beneath the door and around the hinges. Beldin grunted, straining to keep it closed.
“And what do you get out of it?” asked Sebastian.
“I cannot cross running water or travel in the daylight. You can. You will transport me out of this accursed dimension. Do we have a deal?”
Vlad and Sebastian exchanged glances.
“We don’t have a lot of time here!” shouted Beldin.
“I swear by Sarish,” said Sebastian. He cut his palm and offered it to von Grebel.
The vampire licked his lips, staring at the scarlet dripping from the dark-kin’s hand. He cut his own hand. No blood flowed from the wound. They shook on it.
“Jump down the hole and it will lead you directly to Daen. I will block the other entrances with cave-ins. That will keep his minions from reaching Daen before you can finish him off.”
Sebastian didn’t ask questions. He folded his wings and dove into the hole.
“That’s it?” asked Vlad. “That’s the plan? Jump down a hole?”
Von Grebel disappeared in a puff of smoke. A second later, Beldin rushed past him and dove after Sebastian.
It took Vlad only a second to realize what the running dwarf signified. Closing his eyes, he jumped into the hole just as bleached claws reached for him.
Isles of the Damned: Part 1d – The Isle of Undeath
Beldin kicked open the door with a giant-sized foot, thanks to the growth effects of several potions. He almost seemed like a titan of old.
The room was filled with barrels, dripping with a blackish-red substance that could only be blood. In the northeastern corner of the room was a small copse of tree-like stone formations. Four hairless, rotting apes swung from the branches to block their path.
On the other side of the room stood Daen. He wore a cowl that concealed his features, leaving a bleached skull to glare at them with tiny red fires for eyes. His jaw clacked as he spoke, connected only by magic.
Beldin engaged two of the apes, who wielded spears. Vlad took on the other two, trying to keep them at bay. Sebastian hovered behind them.
Daen strode confidently toward the fray. Blood, crackling with vile energy, covered him from head to toe.
“You are powerful to have come this far.” His voice was a nasal, high-pitched rasp. “You will make a formidable addition to my legions. Answer me true, and your death will be quick and almost painless. Who sent you?”
“You should worry less about who sent us,” said Sebastian, crackling with magical defenses. “And more about saving yourself. Incendiares—“
Daen laughed and pointed at Sebastian. “Oh, that’ll be enough of that: resolvo veneficus!”
Sebastian blinked as the fireball poofed out of existence in front of him. He slowly flapped to the ground, his defenses fading.
Vlad smashed one of the gorillas across the face with his shield and stabbed it through the heart. The thing roared in his face, the stench of death washing over him. Vlad’s opponent was no mere gorilla; it was an undead gorilla.
“And this nonsense!” Daen pointed at Beldin. “Dwarves becoming giants? Don’t be ridiculous: resolvo veneficus!”
Beldin shrunk back to his normal size. Even at his normal size he was still a formidable opponent. One of the gorillas lunged at where his head would have been and paid for it when Windcutter separated the ape’s leg at the kneecap.
“We’ll see if your defenses can stop this,” a glowing orb of bluish white appeared in the dark-kin’s upraised palm, “algor globus!” He threw the globe at Daen.
The lich caught it in his palm. He examined it as if he were examining a piece of glass. “Interesting. They’ve been teaching you pups some new spells, I’ve never seen this one.” Daen crushed the globe in one bony fist.
Vlad blocked one of the gorillas spear attacks by chopping it aside with Grungronazharr. Before the ape could react, he stabbed it through the skull. The blow was powerful enough to put it down.
Beldin wasn’t faring as well. The change in size had thrown him off balance. One of the apes advanced on him.
“Vinculum fulmen!” chanted Sebastian. Electricity surged between the undead gorillas and Daen. Two of the gorillas collapsed in smoking piles of roasted flesh. The third advanced on Beldin. Daen was completely unaffected.
“Bah! I didn’t need those ridiculous minions anyway.” Daen laughed. "Gorillas? Only Ramsey would use gorillas!” He pointed at Sebastian. “Now feel the wrath of my tentacles!”
Black tentacles sprung up around Vlad, Beldin, and Sebastian. A twisting tentacle wrenched the remaining gorilla’s head off.
Beldin and Vlad struggled to escape. Sebastian took to the air, but one of the tentacles snapped around his ankle. It was all he could do to stay aloft.
“And now that I have you where I want you,” sneered Daen, “feel the fatigue of centuries!”
The lich put out one hand and a wave of shimmering air swept over them with a WOOM-WOOM-WOOM sound.
Sebastian struggled to move. The spell was sapping their energy. Vlad and Beldin shifted from trying to remove the tentacles to avoiding being squeezed to death. Fortunately, they were protected by Sebsatian’s magics.
“Bow before Daen Danud!” sneered the lich. “For I am the Lord of Despair!” He pointed one palm at them and another WOOM-WOOM-WOOM wave hit them. The urge to bow before Daen became nearly overpowering.
“When I am finished with you, you will beg to serve me in undeath! Pitiful fools, you can’t even move, can you?”
Vlad and Beldin struggled in slow motion as Daen warped even time itself.
Sebastian finally broke free of the tentacle. “My turn,” he said with a snarl. “Resolvo veneficus!”
The tentacles disappeared.
Beldin and Vlad, clearing their heads, staggered forward. Daen put his arm at his sides and a sickening green mist surrounded him.
“Yes, come to me, fools! Come to your death!”
“Poison!” shouted Beldin. “You’ll have to do better than that!”
Vlad charged into the greenish fog with a roar, but the mists overcame him. He fell to his knees in front of Daen, overcome.
“Who said anything about poison?” cackled Daen. He tapped Vlad on the forehead. “You’ll find your own blood betrays you!”
Vlad’s eyes bulged. He hopped to his feet, choking. The Milandisian stumbled back out of the mists.
“Vlad?” asked Beldin uncertainly.
Vlad clawed as his throat. He gasped out a warning, but a bloody gurgle was all he could manage. His eyes bulged red with blood. Blood leaked from his ears and nose.
Then a torrent of blood and gore erupted from Vlad’s mouth and shot across the room. It ran from his nostrils and ears, and then his eyes burst from the pressure, and the gushing continued from his empty sockets.
With a horrible shriek, Vlad exploded, his blood firing outwards as if it were stretching of its own volition. Then, just as quickly as it had exited his body, the blood sucked back in like a snail hiding in its shell.
Vlad’s drained corpse clattered to the ground.
“Illiir have mercy!” shouted Beldin, kneeling over what was left of Vlad’s corpse. “I’ll kill you for that!”
“No,” shouted Sebastian. “Retreat! I’ll keep him busy. You can’t take him in your weakened condition.”
Beldin took a few steps backwards. Sebastian was right, the poison was sapping his strength.
“Yes, run little dwarf,” sneered Daen. “Your Milandisian friend has it all under control. Don’t you, Vlad?”
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