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

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 3 – Freeport in Chaos

From the newspaper office, the riots spread like wildfire throughout the city. Within minutes, groups of people that were peacefully gathered before became a riotous mob, violently lashing with other crowds and looting and pillaging as they went. The mobs were increasingly destructive, mowing through the city like a vicious, many-headed serpent. In less than a half hour, Sebastian’s conflagration caused thick billows of black smoke to rise from rooftops around the city.

The sounds of violence echoed down every street as Beldin passed. Those citizens not involved in the riot holed themselves up in their houses and shops, shuttering the windows and barring the doors. Most streets stood empty, with only stray dogs and debris drifting between buildings.

By contrast, the rioting mobs themselves were loud and brutal. Composed of orcs and human gang members, the mobs tore a destructive swathe through Freeport with every passing moment.

Amid the violent brawls and cacophony of the riot, a lone woman sat leaning against the side of a nearby building, eyes unfocused and seemingly unaware of her dangerous surroundings. Strikingly beautiful with long dark red hair and a lithe body, a, she stood out against the ugly backdrop of the unruly crowds. It was likely only her inaction had kept from coming to the attention of the rioters.

Beldin squinted. “You’re Letah Calame, aren’t you?”

“I…” her eyes were glazed. “My bodyguard…we were on the way to the Salon du Masque…”

The dwarf let out a heavy sigh. “Given the lies you’ve been spreading about me and my friends, I don’t see why I should help you, but…” He took out his axe. “Follow me.”

It didn’t take long before he came upon another dangerous scene. Gang members had commandeered buildings to either side of the street. Arrows, crossbow bolts, and stones flew back and forth between the two sets of buildings, creating a dangerous crossfire that passed between all levels of the two- and three-story buildings.

Down the street, a redheaded woman was huddled beneath an overturned cart. Each time an arrow or bolt thunked into the wooden barrier provided by the cart, she let out a shriek of terror.

Beldin recognized her. It was Nell, protégé of Falthar val’Abebi and the new owner of Falthar’s Curios.

Beldin fished a potion out of his belt pouch and handed it to Letah. “Drink this.”

The former cultist of Larissa was coming out of her shock. “What is it?”

“It will protect you from harm. When I say run, you run as fast as you can towards the cart.”

Letah took a swig of the potion. “Wait, we’re running INTO that mess?”

“RUN!” commanded Beldin.

Letah took off, her long legs easily outpacing the huffing dwarf. A bolt fired right towards her head, but stopped in mid-air, inches from her face. She screamed, but kept running.

Letah skidded underneath the cart. Beldin blocked the opening to the overturned cart with his shield.

“Make her drink this.” He threw another potion to Letah. “It will protect her like the other potion protected you. Watch her while I’m gone.”

Letah caught the potion and handed it to Nell. “What’s protecting you?”

Several bolts and arrows jutted from Beldin’s stout frame. Blood trickled out of the wounds in his armor.

“I’m going to go clean up Freeport,” he said.

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 4 – Shark, Ahoy!

The sun had set, casting an eerie pall over the burning embers across Freeport’s buildings. Sebastian sat atop yet another building, brooding on the events he had caused. It wasn’t so much that he felt bad about it, as things had taken an unexpected turn. He was no closer to stopping Leviathan. But perhaps he could turn things to his advantage…

A strange roar interrupted his thoughts. In the distance, a ball of flames billowed in front of the Sea Lord’s Palace.

Sebastian took wing, flapping his wings to gain lift. Something whistled upwards toward him from the fireball. He twisted and the projectile whizzed past him. It struck the wall of the building behind him with such force that bricks were dislodged in a powder of dust and debris. Whatever it was that nearly hit him, it was heavy.

Sebastian looked down. Rolling to a stop was the head of the Spirit of Freeport, the statue that had been created by Marissa Lapideaux and placed in front of the Sea Lord’s Palace.

Sebastian launched himself towards the Sea Lord’s Palace. Below him, people ran in crowds from the source of the explosion, screaming in terror. He kept flying, only to make out a terrible sight.

The thing was colossal, easily over sixty feet tall. It was draconic in appearance, with vicious maws atop two long, sinuous necks. Its hunched lower body smashed through the street, its tail whipping in agitation. Blood-red eyes released gouts of flame.

The crowd had scattered. A lone elorii stood in the center of the wreckage, facing the beast down, an arrow knocked in his bow.

Sebastian landed next to him. “This thing yours?”

The elorii nodded. “We were transporting the two-headed rage drake to the ship Menagerie. When the riots broke out, the sedation wore off. We’ve got to stop it!” He fired the arrow.

It struck the rage drake in one of its snouts. The beast’s head whipped around, roaring.

Sebastian took to the air as the other head tracked him. It yawned and flames blasted towards the dark-kin, forcing him backwards as the superheated air caught his wings.

The first head snatched the elorii up like a snake striking a rat. It recoiled, tossing the elf in the air. He screamed as he tumbled head over heels, but it was cut off by the other head, biting gently into his torso. The first head bit into the other side.

Sebastian looked away as there was a terrible crunching sound, followed by the spatter of blood and organs on the pavement.

The heads turned to track him once more. Sebastian flew higher.

Suddenly, they snapped back towards the ground, distracted. An absurdly tiny figure was hacking at one of the drake’s legs with an axe.

“Beldin, you fool!” shouted Sebastian. He unleashed a gout of flames at the thing, but the blast merely washed over the creature’s scales.

“If it breathes fire,” Beldin shouted up at him, “it’s immune to fire!”

That was all the dwarf got out. One of the heads snatched him up and for a moment Sebastian lost track of him.

But then the awful head snapped back again, tossing the dwarf like a rag doll into the air. Sebastian strafed the drake’s body. “Algor conus!”

Frost covered the beast, but the inevitable was happening. The second head caught Beldin in mid-air. The first head reached for the tough morsel, dagger-like maw opened wide…

“NOOOO!” screamed Sebastian. He pointed his closed fists at the drake, forgetting even the words to his spell. Sizzling black and red energy spiraled from his fists, slicing through both heads of the rage drake. With a cough, the lower torso slumped to the ground. Beldin’s body tumbled out of its mouth.

The dark-kin looked down at his hands in disbelief. The energy had come from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere dark and feral and angry. He thought he heard shrieks when the energy was released, thought he saw faces in the beams. It was if he had released his soul to the world, and the world wept.

Sebastian flew down to pick him up. The dwarf was dead. But he would not be dead for long.

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 5 – The Sea God’s Shrine

Sebastian landed in front of the Temple of Cadic. It was ransacked and damaged. Shouts of terror and sadistic glee came from within.

Sebastian laid Beldin’s body at the entrance and walked inside, unafraid.

The place was a wreck. A dwarf held a beaten Father Peg-Leg by the hair, blood trailing from the old man’s mouth.

“Let him go,” said Sebastian. “I need him.”

“And who the hell be ye?” snarled the dwarf.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is you let him go and I might let you live.”

Four thugs stepped out from the pews, battleaxes in their hands.

“Bow yer head!” snarled the dwarf. “Ye be in the presence o’ royalty! I be Bloody Jack, King o’ the Cutthroats.”

“I bow to no man,” said Sebastian calmly. “This is your last chance.”

“Funny,” said the dwarf. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. Get ‘im boys.”

The four thugs converged on the dark-kin at once. One of the thugs swung a battleaxe at Sebastian’s head.

He put one hand up and caught the axe in his open palm. The gang member looked at his weapon in shock.

“I came prepared,” said Sebastian with a smirk. “Did you?”

”He can’t stop ye all!” shouted Bloody Jack. “Tackle ‘im!”

The dark-kin snapped out his wings, bashing two of the thugs aside. But the remaining two grabbed him by the arms. Sebastian’s tail snaked around and the stinger struck one of the thug’s under the chin. Poisoned pumped directly into his brain. The thug gurgled, eyes rolling his head, and fell over.

BLAM!

Sebastian flew backwards from the blast, his head hitting a pew. Had he not cast his protective spells first, he would have died from the bullet. Instead, it merely stunned him.

Bloody Jack stood with a smoking pistol in one hand. “Sarish’s ass, have I got t’ do everything mesself? Grab ‘im and keep his mouth covered. He can’t cast spells if he can’t speak. “

The other three thugs grabbed Sebastian. Two pinned his arms, while the third covered his mouth.

Bloody Jack straddled the prone sorcerer. “Since ye’ve got all these pretty magicks.” He pulled out a long, wicked knife. “I’m gonna saw through yer neck. I be thinkin’ I’ll take me time. And it’s gonna hurt. A lot.” He put the knife to Sebastian’s throat.

Sebastian pointed one fist at Bloody Jack’s head. A shrieking beam of eldritch energy roared through the dwarf’s skull, melting it before the thug’s very eyes. Bloody Jack went rigid and then fell backwards off of Sebastian.

The dark-kin laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

The thugs let go of him, horrified.

“Anyone else?” he hissed.

They turned and ran out of the temple.

Sebastian helped Father Peg-Leg to his feet. “Get up Father. Beldin needs your help.”

Father Peg-Leg, who saw it all, croaked. “And who is goin’ to help ye?”

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 6 – Thralen’s Plea for Help

The riots raged on in the city for hours. By nightfall, the air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood. Except for the most violent mobs still rampaging throughout the city, most of the rioters bled off and returned to their homes, their anger spent by the end of the day. By sundown, the remaining members of the Sea Lord’s Guard managed to disperse most of the crowds and send those few they arrested to prison.

A relative calm settled over Freeport at nightfall, but it was short-lived. As the evening passed, the surviving members of the Sea Lord’s Guard launched an all-out attack on the Cutthroats, taking advantage of the death of their leader. Throughout the city, guardsmen assaulted known haunts and safe houses frequented by gang members, killing dozens in the process. By the time night had fully fallen, the streets of Freeport ran red with the blood of criminals and ordinary citizens alike.

With order at least mostly restored, the city slowly got back into its usual rhythm. Though there were many missing faces on the street the next day—the riot took a severe toll on even the peaceful populace—most of the city was back to doing business. A fearful melancholy hung over most of the inhabitants.

Beldin, fully restored by Peg-Leg’s healing magic, joined Sebastian at Thralen Vodric Ossan’s home. It was clear the man had not slept well in awhile.

“I’d like to thank you both again for coming on such short notice,” said Thralen in his usual baritone. “Much has…” he looked Sebastian up and down. “…changed, since we last met.”

Sebastian pretended not to notice.

“I’m afraid events have already been set into motion that could mean serious trouble for Freeport, particularly the Captain’s Council.”

“I thought you and Emric were in hiding,” said Beldin.

“The riots saw to it that we could hide no longer. During yesterday’s riots, I sequestered Emric in my home, using my personal militia to protect the estate from harm. Some time during the riots, Emric was kidnapped and taken to parts unknown.”

Sebastian sighed.

“I suspect his disappearance is no mere act of random violence. Nor do I expect ransom demands to be forthcoming.”

“It is no coincidence that the Law of Succession was repealed,” said Sebastian. “And then shortly thereafter Drak Scarbelly was arrested and now Emric kidnapped. Someone wants very much to keep the position clear.”

“I suspect Arias Soderheim,” said Thralen. “He has always been ambitious and has a ruthless streak in him that I suspect might make him capable of such an act.”

“Let’s see the room where Emric was kidnapped,” said Sebatian. “We’ll follow the trail from there.”

Thralen led Beldin upstairs to the boy’s room. Sebastian flew up to the roof to gain some perspective.

Down below, he noticed several beggars in the alley. He landed with a flap of his wings.

“You there. Beggars. I wish to speak with you.”

The beggars whispered amongst themselves. “You wish to speak to us?”

“Yes.” Sebastian took a bag of gold out of his belt pouch and dangled it before him, spilling doubloons onto the street. The beggars scrambled to pick it up.

“What is it you with to know?” cackled one.

“What did you see last night?”

“Six men climbed a ladder!” said one.

“One of them an elf,” said another.

“They went up into the second-story window!” said a third.

“And what did they return with?” asked Sebastian.

“Something wrapped in a sack,” said the first beggar. “A boy, perhaps. They left traveling towards the Warehouse Distrct.”

Beldin leaned out the window. “Sebastian! I found evidence that Emric was kidnapped by sailors…”

“I know,” said Sebastian. “In the Warehouse District.”

The dark-kin rubbed his forehead. “Warehouses. Why did it have to be warehouses?"

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 7 – The Warehouse District

It didn’t take long for them to find Warehouse 48, owned by none other than Baldric himself. When they arrived, they found a large whale of a man with reddened, leathery skin and stark white eyebrows and beard. He was ranting and raving outside.

“This is intolerable! I’ll take the repairs out of his skinny hide!”

Sebastian landed and the man stopped talking for only a second. “Have you seen six men carrying a sack come this way?”

The white eyebrows shot up. “What? Who are you?”

Beldin stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “I’m Beldin Soulforge and this is Sebastian Arnyal. And you are…?”

“Captain Bartelbee.” He didn’t take his eyes off Sebastian.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Bartelbee” said Baldric. “What happened here?”

“Yesterday, during the riots, me and my sailors were guarding my ship when a bunch of elves come scurrying back to The Knife in a hurry.”

“The Knife?” asked Beldin. “That’s a ship?”

“Aye. They loaded some small cargo onto the ship and began cutting their moorings and getting it underway. The Knife’s crew worked quickly. They moved like devils were at their heels. In their haste, they smashed the side of my ship!” He started cursed and swearing again. “It’ll cost a king’s ransom to fix!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and fished out a coin purse full of gold doubloons. “This should fix it. Now which way did they go?”

Bartelbee’s eyes bugged out as he took the purse. He immediately started pouring the coins into one palm, silently counting as he spoke.

“I was going to give chase, but we had to patch the ship before it sank. The Knife was sailing over the horizon in the direction of Windward.”

“Then Windward is where we’re going,” said Sebastian. “Now we just need…”

“What ho?” shouted Baldric from across the docks. “Ye look like lads in need o’ a ship?”

Beldin stroked his beard. “You knew we’d need a ship, wouldn’t you!”

Baldric winked at them with his good eye. “We were already on high alert since I been planning to get out before the storm hits in full force. We’re ready t’ set sail when ye be!”

“Convenient,” said Sebastian.

They left Bartelbee to count his coins.

“Are you going to bribe everyone with gold to get your way?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian sneered at him. “It saved your life, didn’t it?”

Beldin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but the thought made him uneasy as they stepped onto the deck of the Naoke.

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 8 – Bloody Tide

The winds were strong and only through the incredible efforts of the crew did they manage to cross the treacherous waters to reach Windward Isle. Through the lashing rain, they could make out a white strand of beach and the fitful flames of bonfires. A ship of no inconsequential size was anchored a few hundred yards from shore. Though the sails were furled, the other ship rocked alarmingly and its lanterns swung wildly.

As they made ready, a cry of horror pierced the shrieking wind. Climbing over the rails were fearsome creatures, some sort of a cross between a man and a shark. It was led by something grotesque and strong.

The leader was six-feet tall, with slick blue-black skin stretched tautly over knotty cords of muscle, long arms ending in viciously taloned and webbed claws, a bullet-like head with no discernable neck, and a face more fish than human.

“Camring!” gasped Beldin.

“That’s right!” snarled a familiar feminine voice from behind him. “My son has returned to claim his legacy!”

“Sycorax?” Sebastian sighed. “How many vampires stowed away on this ship, anyway?”

“One too many!” Sycorax coalesced at the forecastle, a stiletto in her restored hand, a rapier in the other. “You’ll not fly away to safety this time, little bat.”

Sebastian snapped out his wings, but he realized that she was right—the wind was so strong that it lifted him up, smashing him against the mainmast. He averted his gaze, screwing his eyes shut and turning his head.

But Sycorax would have none of it. She stalked over to the sorcerer even as the sahuagin leaped over the rails to engage the Naoke’s crew.

Beldin moved to intercept the sea witch, but a trident skewered him in the shoulder. He yanked it out. The trident glowed and disappeared in his hand.

It reappeared in Camring’s webbed fist.

Sycorax grabbed Sebastian’s head and wrenched it around to face her. “Open your eyes!” she shrieked. Fingernails dug into the flesh of his brow.

Beldin drew Windcutter. “Time to earn your title,” he shouted over the roaring wind.

The warrior brought the weapon up just in time as Camring’s trident speared downward, knocking the barbed points only inches from his beard.

“I am truly qualified to be Sea Lord, yes?” he gurgled.

Behind him, Sebastian screamed. Beldin whirled, but Camring hopped into his path.

Sycorax stood in front of Sebastian’s twitching body, coldly beautiful in the whipping wind and rain. She held rapier and stiletto at the ready. “Come, dwarf! Let us finish what we started!”

Beldin had an idea. “You’re right.” He hunkered down and charged into Camring, unbalancing the fish-man. Grabbing him by the slimy torso, Beldin kept stumping forward despite the tossing ship and sloshing waves.

With a mighty heave, he hurled Camring onto Sycorax’s blades. The rapier and stiletto skewered him.

Camring’s howl of pain was joined by Sycorax’s horrified shriek.

“You should know better, Sycorax!” shouted Beldin. “Vampires can’t cross running water!”

He barreled into them both with his shield. Mother and son tumbled into the swirling surf, marked occasionally by huge shark fins that pierced the surface. Sycorax disintegrated as she hit the ocean, leaving Camring to slowly sink in a red pool with rapier and stiletto jutting from his torso.

The other sahuagin, seeing their leaders defeated, dove over the side.

Baldric leaned over Sebastian. “Is he…”

“He’ll be fine.” Beldin handed a potion to Baldric. “Take him below decks and make him drink this.”

“Who was that?” asked the pirate captain.

“One less successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 9 – The Knife

In the sea, rocking on the high waves, was a large ship about the size of a caravel. Despite the driving rain and wind, shapes could be seen moving about on the deck. As they drew nearer, great roaring fires illuminated the shore, revealing a number of burning buildings and a beach littered with the dead. Behind the carnage rose a large inn Lights shined through its shuttered windows. Out in front, a number of smaller boats lay scattered about.

Sebastian clambered up onto the deck of the ship, unaccustomed to such an undignified approach. But there was no help for it; the weather didn’t allow flight. Beldin followed behind, untroubled by the rocking motion of the ship.

The Knife’s main deck was crowded with coils of rope, crates, cages holding chickens and pigs, and assorted other supplies.

Sebastian tried the door to the forecabin. It was locked.

He withdrew a chime from the folds of his sodden robes and rang it once. Despite the roaring wind, a single, clear note rang out. The door unlocked.

Inside was a large cabin with triple bunks lining the walls. The foremast ran from the floor out through the ceilings. A single lantern illuminated the room and its inhabitants.

The bald elorii struggled to pull up his pants at the intrusion. “I shaid I was busy!” he slurred.

A young boy scrambled to his feet.

Sebastian shook himself off, stretching his wings out. “Talathiel. I should have known.”

Beldin came in a moment later. “What was going on here?” he asked hesitantly.

Talathiel chuckled. “I don’t expecht you to understand the rightsh of Larissha.”

“You’re drunk,” said Sebastian. “You sicken me.”

“The Sea Lord of Freetown!” whispered the boy. “He has come to reclaim his birthright!”

Talathiel gave the boy a backwards glance, then turned back to Sebastian. “What, no hello for your old friend Talathiel? I’ve no doorsh or cultsh to hide today.”

Sebastian lifted his palms. “You kidnapped Emric. For your sake, the boy had better be returned unharmed, or I will make you suffer far more than any faux torture you can dream up in your Larissan rites.”

Talathiel swayed slightly, pushing the boy, who appeared to be about thirteen years of age, behind him. “Shounds kinky. Maybe you’d like to share a boy with me?”

Beldin growled. “Let him go.”

Talathiel struggled to compose himself. “Oh, that’sh choice. You want to rescue him? You may want to reshcue yourshelves firsht.”

A shadow loomed behind Beldin. He whirled to face an immensely tall, well-muscled man with a topknot whose skin was covered in strange tattoos.

“You!” snarled Beldin. “You were the one who kidnapped Ilmare!”

The half-naked man took a step back, the rain dripping from his perfectly sculpted torso. A whip was in his hand.

With their attention distracted, Talathiel made his move. He acted as if he were going to vomit—instead, a belch of flames exploded from his mouth.

Sebastian stumbled backwards, surprised by the attack. Simultaneously, the incubus snapped its whip, encircling Beldin’s throat.

“I’ve got a few tricksh up my shleeve shince we lasht met,” hiccupped Talathiel. “Thish time there will be no pushing me around.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he recovered his balance. “I’ve got a few tricks of my own.”

Beldin hacked at the whip with Windcutter, snapping it in two.

On the other side of the doorway, Sebastian unleashed a blast of eldritch energy, but Talathiel stumbled out of the way.

The drunken elorii stumbled forward, grabbing a bucket as he advanced on Sebastian. With a roar, he charged at him head on…

Only to strike the wall next to Sebastian. The bald elorii fell prone, staring up at his opponent.

“Medricas val’Assante!” shouted Beldin. “Come to my aid!”

The incubus recoiled at the words, fear painting its features for the first time. Beldin threw Windcutter with both hands.

The axe sailed through the air and pinned the incubus to the mainmast. It exploded in a burst of flames.

Seconds later, Sebastian mercilessly finished off the helpless Talathiel with a blast of eldritch energy to the face.

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 10 – Going to the Island

Stretching out about a hundred feet into the water was a sturdy wooden pier. A few smaller ships were stilled tied off and rocked in the turbulent waters. On the shore were beached rowboats, lipped over so their hulls were face up. A stone path led from the pier up to Felix’s, an upscale resort that offered comfort, quality, and a place away from the hustle and bustle of Freeport.

Scattered all over the beach were about a dozen corpses. Strange, serpent-like silhouettes ducked their heads in and out of the corpses, feasting on the dead.

One man was propped up, hair concealing his features, his body tied to an “X” on the beach.

Sebastian unleashed a blast of eldritch energy from his fingertips, scorching one of the serpents. It hissed, and the other four reared their heads. It was clear they were degenerate specimens of ssanu, if such a thing were possible.

“What did you do that for?” shouted Beldin.

“That man,” said Sebastian, beginning an incantation, “might be able to tell us where Emric is.”

Beldin cut off one of the degenerate ssanu’s attacks by striking first, chopping it down with one blow. It spasmed once and was still.

A blast of flames engulfed the ssanu, but they were so soaked from seawater and rain that they only steamed from the fire.

“Algor conus!”

A spiraling cone of frozen ice turned the steam to a tomb, entrapping the ssanu in mid-action.

“And now we can finally get to the bottom of this.” Sebastian walked over to the tied up hostage, but Beldin reached him first.

He lifted the man’s head by the long hair that concealed his features…

It was little more than a skull, the flesh ripped off.

Sebastian sighed. “So much for our intel.”

“Forget intel.” Beldin released the man’s head, and the corpse resumed its upright position. Tied to the X, it looked as if he were in meditation. “This was Felix.”

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 11 – Felix’s

Felix’s resort was a large building that once offered excellent service, food, and accommodations. It was the perfect getaway for Freeoprt’e elite, serving all of the Captain’s Council, important merchants, and dignitaries from foreign lands.

The one-posh establishment had transformed into a disgusting charnel house, the playground for bloodthirsty pirates. By the time Sebastian and Beldin reached the resort, it appeared that the entire staff had been murdered, their corpses strewn about the beach.

A covered porch dominated the front of the resort. The supporting beams featured a number of hooks for holding nets, hats, baggage, and other items. The porch also held a few chairs and a couple of ceramic pots that served as spittoons. Boards covered the windows to protect them from flying debris. The door hung on a single hinge and swung in the gusts.

“They put up a fight,” said Beldin sadly.

Sebastian crossed his wrists in front of him and promptly disappeared. “Keep them busy,” came his voice from nowhere.

After drinking several potions that increased his strength and size, Beldin soldiered on. Inside, the dining hall was a large open room that had once been filled with tables, chairs, and maritime décor. No longer. The place was a shambles. The iron hoops that served as chandeliers were the only thing still intact, though the candles had burned down to the stubs and sputtered with each blast of wind through the door. Corpses littered the floor and stairs leading up to the second floor. The place stank of beer, blood, and smoke.

Elorii pirates, armed with crossbows, crouched on either side of the room. At the far side was Persius Sharpe, the elorii captain, holding a flintlock to Emric’s head. Mentire Aboir, a hunched gnome with a tattooed in the form of a skull, leaned on his staff next to him. Standing in Beldin’s path was none other than the elorii bounty hunter who had tried to kill them over a year ago in Freeport, Garadon.

“Amazing,” said Mentire said in disbelief. “We surely thought no one would come waltzing through the front door like that. And yet, here you are.” He wheezed a laugh. “Leave it to a dwarf!”

“Let the boy go,” said Beldin. Garadon pulsed with energy, larger and more menacing that he had been when Beldin last saw him.

“Let him go?” said the gnome. “Let him go? You’ve been keeping company with Martell for too long. We’re not going to let the boy go. We have orders to keep him here until Freeport picks a new successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

Beldin took a step forward. Garadon crouched.

“And then?”

“There’s always the ghouls outside,” cackled Mentire. “Or Talathiel.”

Beldin’s next response was cut off by the screams of the elorii on his left side. Sebastian, no longer invisible, stood with smoking fists outside the window. The five elorii dropped, sparking bolts of energy that danced between their corpses and nearby furniture.

Garadon didn’t wait. The huge elorii was on Beldin lightning fast. He struck Beldin’s shield so hard with his longsword that the dwarf nearly dropped it.

Beldin swung at him, connecting with the elorii’s head…but his axe passed right through it. Garadon blurred sideways, a few afterimages following behind him.

“Sebastian!” shouted Beldin. “He’s protected!”

Crossbow bolts fired from the remaining elorii pirates, some focusing on Beldin, others on Sebastian, who ducked below the window.

“Worry about your own magic, dwarf,” snarled Mentirre. “Resolvo veneficus!”

Beldin started shrinking. He felt the strength sap from his limbs.

Mentire cackled. “My giant beats yours!”

Sebastian thrust one arm through an open window and aimed it at Garadon. Eldritch energy energy pulsed from his fist into the back of the giant elorii, reducing him to his own size.

Beldin took a few experimental swings at his normal-sized enemy. “That’s a new trick.”

The dwarf struck again, and this time Garadon was forced to block with his buckler. It was barely enough to deflect the blow. The silent elorii shook out his shield arm in agitation.

A crossbow bounced off of Beldin’s armor. Not all of the protective magics had been dispelled. Good.

Mentire turned his attention to Sebastian. “That’s enough of that: algor conus!”

Freezing cold blasted from Mentire’s fingertips. Persius watch impassively, holding Emric by the throat with one hand and the pistol in another.

Garadon rolled to Beldin’s left and came up swinging hard. Beldin blocked it and struck the elorii a glancing blow to his shoulder, above the paltry protection the buckler provided. Garadon fell backwards, stumbling over a table. He flipped back up to his feet, but it was clear the elorii was winded.

Sebastian was nowhere to be found. With the windows frozen over, his entrance was blocked.

“Now,” cackled Mentire, “I will teach you to bow to a new master: nulluas facultas!”

Black lightning sparked from Mentire’s outstretched fingertips, dancing over Beldin’s entire body. The dwarf grunted and fell to one knee.

Slowly, he got up again.

“Die!” snarled Mentire. “Nullus facultas!” More black energy surged into the dwarf. It felt as if bloodsucking bees were stinging his whole body.

Beldin spat blood. Something had burst inside him, something he probably needed. After a moment, he took another step forward.

“Impossible!” shouted Mentire. “Why won’t you DIE?! NULLUS FACULTAS!”

More black lightning blasted from Mentire’s fingertips. Beldin finally went down to his knees, panting.

Garadon took hold of his longsword with both hands and stood over the dwarf.

“Finish it,” said Mentire.

Garadon lifted the blade. Beldin just looked down at the ground, too drained to care.

The shattering of ice was the only warning Garadon got. The elorii turned to look as a bat-winged blur slammed into him. Sizzling eldritch energy blasted ahead of Sebastian, pinning the elorii to the wall as he writhed in unholy flames.

Mentire watched in shock, mouth agape. With the last of his energy, Beldin hurled Windcutter through the air. And true to its name, the dwarven waraxe sailed end over end as if it were a throwing dagger, burying itself in Mentire’s chest. The gnome let out a rattling wheeze and collapsed, staring in awe at the axe lodged in his ribcage.

Sebastian hopped to his feet, wings spread, ready for combat. He fanned out his hands at the other elorii pirates. “Algor conus!”

The cone of ice turned the other elorii pirates into ice crystals, ending at Persius’ feet. Sebastian had been careful not to encompass the boy in his spell.

Persius’s position hadn’t changed. He hadn’t blinked the entire time. Emric seemed similarly entranced and stood stock still, like two mannequins in some sort of gruesome display.

“Persius,” croaked Beldin, “why are you doing this?”

“Anulee deserved a second chance.” Persius methodically lifted his pistol and drew a bead on the unarmed dwarf’s forehead.

“Now Dracuul!” shouted Sebastian.

A small bat landed on Persius’ back and sank its fangs into his neck.

Persius jolted, twitching, as Sebastian’s stored spell drank his life force. Then he too fell to the ground.

Sebastian helped Beldin to his feet. Mentire gurgled, his bloody lungs struggling to breathe their last. Beldin made his way over to him.

Sebastian stood over Persius. “Is this out of revenge for killing Anulee?” He leaned down to whisper into the dying elorii’s ear. “She was mad. I had no choice but to kill her. If it makes you feel better, her death was quick.”

“…take good care…of…her…” then he expired.

Beldin yanked Windcutter out of the gnome’s chest. Mentire screeched and then promptly expired.

Emric started, coming out of the trance. “W-what happened?”

“You were ensorcelled,” said Sebastian, rifling through Mentire’s belongings. He pulled out a note and read it. “Judging from this document, Mentire was hired by Arias Soderheim to kidnap you to prevent you from laying claim to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

Beldin leaned on Windcutter, staring down at Persius’ corpse. “He could have killed the boy at any time. Maybe a small part of him knew it was wrong.”

“He was going to kill you,” sneered Sebastian. “That doesn’t seem too altruistic to me.”

Emric looked around in wonder, as if he was seeing the room for the first time. “Now what?”

“Now,” Sebastian stalked towards the door, “we reclaim your birthright.”

 

[talien]

Crisis in Freeport: Part 12a – The Council’s Decree

Sebastian and Beldin returned just ahead of the hurricane, only to find Freeport battening down the hatches of one of the worst storms the city had ever seen. Priests of Yarris preached at the waterfront, beseeching their god to show mercy, while others claimed the hurricane was punishment for the desecrations that took place during the riots.

They returned Emric promptly to Thralen’s residence, pausing for several hours to wait out the hurricane. Then they promptly hurried to the Plaza of Gold.

“I’ve called for an emergency meeting of the Captain’s Council, as you requested,” said Thralen. “But I’m not sure that having it in public is wise…”

“It’s the only way,” snapped Sebastian. “We’re done hiding. The people must see that Emric is suited for the Sea Lord’s Throne. I will prove it to them all.”

The carriage wheeled to a stop and they all got out.

A majestic fountain acted as the centerpiece to a rare scene of beauty. The Plaza of Gold seemed untouched by the hurricane, though it was far more likely it was simply the first to be cleaned up. Gathered around the base of the fountain were the remaining members of the council, with one conspicuous absence: Arias Soderheim. Additionally, a small crowd formed around the councilors, watching the meeting with curiosity.

Sebastian hopped up into the air and landed before the startled councilors with his demonic wings spread wide. “Assembled members of the Captain’s Council, hear me!”

“Why have you summoned us here?” snapped Marilise Maeorgan, raven-haired sister of the traitorous Melkior Maeorgan.

Sebastian snapped one wing closed, revealing Thralen and Emric, dressed in clothes more befitting nobility. “The Law of Succession must be reinstated, for Emric Ossan-Drac is a direct descendant of the Drac bloodline!”

“Do you have proof of this?” asked Lady Elise Grosette, an attractive older woman.

“I do,” said Sebastian. He grabbed Emric roughly by the wrist and lifted his hand. “He wears the Ring of Drac!”

A hush fell over the crowd. The council members huddled around the boy to inspect it.

“And I have here,” Sebastian dug out Drak Scarbelly’s sextant, “further proof of Emric’s succession, for I have here the Sextant of Drac!”

Boos immediately broke out from orcs in the crowd. “That’s Drak Scarbelly’s!” shouted one. “Give it back!” said another. “The elves are afraid of orcs runnin’ Freeport!” shouted a third.

Sebastian looked around, surprised by the response. “The elorii are on the side of the Coryani Loyalists. They are Freeport’s best defense against the Continental powers!”

“Who kidnapped the boy?” shouted someone from the crowd.

“Elves,” Beldin shouted back. Sebastian stared daggers at him.

“Did you kill them?” shouted another orc. “Who hired them?” shouted a human.

“Arias Soderheim,” Beldin said before Sebastian could shush him.

“If this is true, Arias must be arrested and tried for treason,” said Marilise. “We must seize his estates and banish any of his blood relatives from Freeport.”

The statement drew gasps from councilors. The orcs in the audience cheered.

Sebastian slapped an open palm to his throat. He tugged a small blood-tipped bolt out of his neck, staring at in shock. Then he fell over.

Beldin drew his axe and whirled. “Assassin!” he shouted.