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

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Prologue

A lone elorii stood at the edge of a cliff, peering down at the boiling ocean that glistened in the light of the rising sun. Osalian was displeased.

But it was not Osalian’s choice to make. Ilmarė held the painstakingly crafted brooch up to the sunlight. It was engraved with the sign of Belisarda, vaguely reminiscent of a weeping willow tree with a hovering dot at its apex.

She looked at the acorn-like mark on the back of her hand. Cael Greybeard, the Ardakene elorii, had taught her much about working with humans, defending them, even loving them. She was here to continue his legacy.

The sign needed to be charged. But was Belisarda listening? Did she even care?

Ilmarė was about to find out. Like a child throwing a tantrum, she began the Unspeakable Oath.

The elorii lifted her chin. “Expectant we raise our muzzles to smell the air for hatred.”

Ilmarė cocked her head as if listening. “We strain our ears for the sound of love.”

She listened for a long moment. Nothing.

“We, the mute,” Ilmarė put one hand over her mouth, “the lame,” she held an open palm over her other wrist, “the stupid,” she moved her open palm to her forehead, “the dull, the weak…”

Ilmarė covered both of her eyes with her hands. “We turn our blind eyes to the hunter's killer.”

Something was happening. The brooch clasped to her breast began to pulse.

Ilmarė lifted her hands into the air. “We raise our hands and voices in prayers for an answer.”

The Belisardan Sign flashed an angry red.

And Ilmarė got her answer.

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 1 – Maps and Legends

The Milandisian known as Vlad Martell craned his neck to look out the doorway of Egil’s office. “Do you think they have anything useful on the sextant?”

“This is the Temple of Althares.” Kham, dressed in a new blue overcoat and wearing green lenses, sat in front of Egil’s desk, tapping his foot. “If anyone knows anything about the sextant, it’s the Brothers of Althares.”

Dril paced behind Kham. “We’re wasting time.” He was dressed in a plain brown cloak, with the hood pushed back to reveal his dusky features. “The Cult of Leviathan is much more nimble than the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

“Please,” Kham rubbed his forehead, “don’t bring them up again.”

“Ilmarė is working on a defense against the Unspeakable One’s minions that she gleaned from the Turner Codex.” Beldin the dwarf stroked his beard. “If they ever do get organized, we’ll be ready.”

Egil finally returned with Brother Norton, a nervous-looking monk with spectacles.

Egil collapsed into his seat behind the desk and steepled his fingers. “Brother Norton,” he said. “Please explain.”

Norton cleared his throat. “Another group of rough-looking types came in just recently, looking for a magical sextant. Well…” he paused, uncertain. “Not at first. They started off looking in the city directory and in Freeport history for someone named…oh dear, I don’t quite recall. Carrey? Carvey? Carney? It started with a ‘c’, I’m sure of that. Anyway, after an hour or so of digging, they came back and said they couldn’t find what they wanted. So they asked for books on magical sextants. I sent them to the Magick Items and Artefackts section.”

Egil turned to Kham, embarrassed. “It seems Brother Norton confused the group with yours, and thus gave them full access. They did leave a donation in doubloons, but didn’t speak with any of our brothers for very long.”

“You didn’t get a look at them?” asked Dril.

Egil frowned at Norton. “Brother Norton’s eye was much more focused on the gold they left. You see, we’re building a portal so that we can transport books to the mainland if need be. The library’s not finished yet; these things are very costly.” Egil lowered his voice. “Please don’t share that with anyone else. It’s mean to be a backup plan in case the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign attacks again.”

“Sure,” said Kham. “Did they leave anything that might identify them? Anything at all?”

“We found this note hanging out of one of the volumes taken off the shelves.” Brother Norton handed Kham a note.

Kham scanned it. “So they couldn’t find the Cycle of R’lyeh.”

“We don’t have any book by that name,” said Egil. “It was on a list of censored books one hundred and fifty years ago, and The Cycle of R’lyeh was banned outright for reasons pertaining to the continued Security and Divine Favor of the Island.”

“What kind of security?” asked Dril with a frown.

“So secure that we have no idea,” said Egil. “I’m sorry, but it happened before my time here.”

“The only place that might have a copy,” says Brother Norton, “are private book collections or antiquarian book shops.”

Kham hopped to his feet. “It just so happens that I know an antiquarian.”

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 2 – The Orc Who Would Be King

“Are you sure we can trust Elijah Quelch?”

Quelch had directed them to the Temple of Cadic. It was easily spotted several blocks away, with a peak crafted to look like a crow’s nest that rose high above the surrounding buildings. A huge Jolly Roger was fixed to a wrought-iron spike at its peak.

Kham shrugged at Dril’s question. “Falthar hates the guy, but Quelch is the most knowledgeable of that kind. Trust me, if there was anyone else Falthar could have recommended, he would have. If he directed us here, I believe him.”

“Kham’s got a lot of friends in Freeport,” said Vlad.

The outlines of the building became visible—a cylinder of roughly hewn stone gone green and white with lichen. As they walked across the wooden dock that led to the door, the temple’s doors opened and a crowd trampled across the dock.

“Hey, manflesh!” shouted a guttural voice. “Wake up! No seaweed god will protect you from t' Bloody Vengeance!”

“And a lot of enemies,” added Sebastian.

When Kham turned around, he found an angry, hulking one-legged orc in a captain’s coat, with an eye patch and a strange bird on his shoulder. Several orcs dressed in red chain shirts with longswords surrounded him, equally angry.

“Scarbelly,” said Kham through clenched teeth. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“That’s right, manflesh,” sneered the orc known as Captain Scarbelly. “You’re weak. Cadic be a fool’s god.”

“Listen you no good greenskin,” snarled Kham, “get off of our island! Stop taking our jobs!”

Several of the humans cheered. Sebastian took a step back.

“Thin's be goin' t' change around here when I’m in charge!” shouted Scarbelly.

“In charge?” Kham guffawed. “You couldn’t take charge of your own boat. Where is it anyway? Maybe you left it with your eye and leg!”

“T' Bloody Vengeance? I crossed Kenzil t' Evoker and survived, fool. I’m that tough, and I’m tough enough t' take over YER island. This island be ours by blood!”

“Filthy liar!” spat Kham.

Vlad and Beldin flanked either side of Kham. Other humans, many of them sailors, pressed around them, shouting and waving their fists.

“I be descended from Sea Lord Drac’s bloodline, and I have proof!” shouted Scarbelly. “Proof t' Captains’ Council can’t ignore for long!”

One of the many human hands raised a rotten-looking tomato.

“Milton Drac forced himself on a helpless orc lass, me mother. Drac port her with but two thin's: a magical sextant and fake promises o' puny human love!”

Sebastian pointed and whispered. “Magis attrecto.”

The tomato flew into the air, only to hover to a complete stop. Then it sped off in the direction of the ocean.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Scarbelly let out a bellowing chortle. “Ye see? I’m protected! Even Cadic know that humans should bow t' orc sovereignty!”

“Do you even know what that word means?” shouted Kham.

But the psychological battle was won. The crowd slunk away, uncertain as to exactly what they had witnessed but not wanting to stick around to find out. Even the orcs left, reveling in their victory with hoots and hollers.

Dril slunk back out of the crowd.

“Where were you?” asked Vlad.

“Someone was paying very close attention to Scarbelly.” Dril look over his shoulder. “Something strange is going on.”

“Real observant,” said Kham. “Everyone was looking at Scarbelly, thanks to what I’m guessing was Sebastian’s magic.”

Sebastian coughed. “That wasn’t the intended effect. I was just trying to avoid another riot.”

Kham rolled his eyes. “Trying to keep the peace in Freeport? Those orcs deserve to be smacked around.”

“You really don’t like them, huh?” asked Vlad.

“They’re ugly, stupid, and a drain on the economy. Orcs work for dirt and they’re putting deserving humans out of jobs. Come on, let’s go inside and see what Cadic’s faithful have on the Cycle of R’lyeh.” Kham rustled past them into the temple.

Dril lingered outside, watching the citizens of Freeport resume their daily grind of working, shilling, swindling, and drinking.

Vlad paused as the others followed Kham. “Coming?”

Dril slowly nodded. “He really hates orcs.”

“Who, Kham?” Vlad sighed. “I don’t think he likes anybody anymore, not even himself. I take it you don’t share his views?”

Dril wrapped his cloak tightly around him as a chill wind blew through Freeport. “There was a time when I would have agreed with the val. But now…now I’m not so sure.” Then he went inside to join the others.

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3a - The Temple of Cadic

The room was as cold as night in the northern seas. Friezes and mosaics covered the walls—scenes of plundered ships aflame, treasure being buried on tropical beaches, cold justice meted out to the disgraced or the betrayed.

“Well, this is different,” said Dril.

From above there was a cold, rusty creak. Beldin looked up

The whole ceiling was lined with nets, ropes and chains, like the mast of a sailing ship. On the ground, pews dominated the room; about thirty feet before the end, there was a raised platform decorated with nautical paraphernalia—a captain’s wheel, a walking plank. Above them all hung the focus of the room: a golden skull and crossbones superimposed over two crossed swords. Fires smoldered in the empty sockets.

“Cadic’s a…different kind of god,” said Kham with a smirk.

There was a scuffling sound from behind the altar and a deep, whiskeyed voice called out, “Visitors, praise be Cadic! What wind brin's ye aboard? Lookin' for a blessin', be ye? Perhaps ye be sailin’ out soon, for I do smell t' sea about ye?”

A looming figure staggered out of the shadows, muscled and weather-beaten, dressed in captain’s gear—a knee length coat and tricorner hat—with a gold hoop in one ear. He was missing one leg and walked with a crutch.

“Me name be Father Peligro—but ye may call me Peg-Leg.”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Peg-Leg, we are looking for a book known as the Cycle of R’lyeh. Our contacts indicated you might know something about it.”

Peg-Leg clomped his way over to them. “Aye, R’lyeh, that name be old…many stories about that name…I credit none o' them, meself.”

Dril sneered. “He’s lying.”

“Then perhaps you know of a magical sextant?” asked Sebastian, rapidly losing his patience. “It’s got something to do with the island of R’lyeh.”

“Aye, thar be many relics, many magic items…but I do not recognize this one, me hearties.”

Kham took out his pistols. “I don’t care if you’re a priest. You need to stop—“

Just then, the doors burst open.

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3b - The Temple of Cadic

Two orcs, dressed in the same red chain shirts as members of the Bloody Vengeance, raced down the center aisle, waving their cutlasses and howling like all of hell was behind them. Additional duos crash through each of the temple’s four windows.

“What perfect timing!” shouted Kham. He wheeled to train his pistols on two incoming orcs. “I’ve been looking to bag me some greenskins.” He fired two pistols, downing two of the orcs.

“Vindicatio manus!” said Scarbelly.

Vlad charged at Captain Scarbelly, only to have a magical force obstruct his path. Magical sparks met the edge of his blade as he tested its resilience again and again.

“Since when does Scarbelly cast spells?” asked Dril to no one in particular.

“He doesn’t,” said Vlad. “Or at least, he didn’t.”

Scarbelly charged through the middle of the pews, two orcs flanking his side. They rushed towards Peg-Leg.

“Don’t you move!” Kham dropped his spent pistols and pointed two more at Peg-Leg. “For all we know, you put them up to this?”

“Me?” shouted Peg-Leg. “Are ye mad? They’re attackin' me home!”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” said Kham. He trained one of the pistols on the advancing Scarbelly.

Scarbelly skidded to a halt. He unfurled a scroll and read it. “Ignifer murus!”

A wall of flames sprang up, bisecting the temple in half. Vlad, Sebastian, and Beldin were trapped on the other side. The scorching flames drove them back and even managed to ignite one of the orcs, who ran screaming from the temple.

“Okay.” Kham spun to aim both pistols at Scarbelly. “Now the Scarbelly I know NEVER did that.”

“Finally!” shouted Peg-Leg. He pointed at the wall of flames. “Cadic will not tolerate such desecration!”

The flames went out.

Kham lowered his two pistols in disbelief. “Remind me to stop making fun of Cadic.”

Next to Peg-Leg, Dril was engaged in a vicious battle with one of the orcs. He parried an axe blow that should have shattered his scimitar. It was impossible…unless the orc wasn’t wielding an axe at all.

“They’re not orcs!” shouted Dril. “They’re cloaked by an illusion!”

Peg-Leg pointed at another cluster of orcs. “And now for t' rest o' ye—“

The faux-Scarbelly pointed at Peg-Leg. “Caecitas!”

“Me good eye!” Peg-Leg fell backwards into the small pool that served as an altar to Cadic, hands clutching his face.

Kham fired twice, but the pistol shots were deflected off of the glowing shield of force that surrounded Scarbelly. “Okay, Talon, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Kham reached behind him and whipped out the scimitar that had been holstered across his back.

The impostor roared a challenge. He raised his axe defiantly.

Kham’s blade wrenched itself almost painfully out of his hand as it moved of its own accord. The blade dragged him upwards, easily blocking the illusionary orc’s blow. With a flick of his wrist, a bloody gash opened in the orc’s chest. A man in a hooded robe fell to the ground, dead.

When Kham looked up, all the other cultists were dead too.

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3c - The Temple of Cadic

After dispelling the magic that blinded him, Father Peg-Leg took a look at the dead bodies. He shook his head.

“This be terrible and strange,” he said. “Ye have convinced me, with yer blood and steel and t' flesh ye have hewn before me that you be true. Somethin' wicked and wild be risin' in this world.” He lifted one of the cultists’ hands and pointed to the design on the palm. It was a tentacled head surrounded by five stars. “If I didn’t see this mark with me own eaye, never would I credit all them old jack tar stories. Now I wonder…now I wonder just what we be up against!"

“Leviathan,” said Dril, glaring at Kham. “Told you.”

“There be stories…yar, stories that run aft t' t' foundin' o' this island…about a gang that bore this mark…t' wickedest cutthroats every t' sail t' oceans,” Peg-Leg rambled on, oblivious to the discussion around him. “T' Full-Fathom Five, they called themselves. Five wicked buccaneers who worshipped a devil so foul that Cadic had t' swab him from our memory—Leviathan, who rode upon a beast t' size o' this island….a kraken he called his own son. Together, they were t' wickedest scourge t' ever sail t' oceans. They would’ve overrun t' shippin' lanes, t' stories say, if Cadic hadn’t stopped their villainy. Now that I see this mark…now that I see what they was plannin' t' do…I can only wonder.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “So, about that book…”

Peg-Legs scowled and looked keenly at Kham. “Cadic has sent ye t' me on this blackest o' black days. Ye have done good for me. He must intend ye t' do more. T' knowledge ye seek resides with one man—Carthy. He be protected by Cadic. His line has lived in Freeport for these many years under a false name t' keep him hidden from t' world. I’ll tell ye where he lives. If he comes t' harm by yer hand, may Cadic strike ye went t' Davy Jones' locker and take me for chum in his heavenly oceans. But I truly believe ye be workin’ for me lord.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Kham. “If I had a piece of eight for every time someone threatened to kill us, I’d be rich.”

“And then spend it all on booze and ghoul juice,” muttered Beldin.

“What?” asked Kham. Beldin didn’t respond.

The priest gave Sebastian an address in the Merchant District, the ritzy section of town. “Carthy lives thar under t' name Caleb Solomon.”

Sebastian put his gloved hands together and bowed. “Thank you, Father Peg-Leg, for your help.”

Dril nudged one of the corpses. “This raid won’t make Scarbelly look good.”

“How so?” asked Vlad.

“With the impostors attacking the Temple of Cadic, it looks like Scarbelly caused a riot and then they ambushed Father Peg-Leg. Maybe we should alert the authorities.”

Kham stepped over the lead cultist’s body. “I don’t see any impostors. Just a bunch of dead orcs.” Then he walked out of the temple.

“One more thin',” said Peg-Leg. “This man ye seek be protected by Cadic, but these blackguards be protected by someone too."

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 4 – The Terrible Old Man

After a bit of searching, they found Carthy’s house. It was a two-story affair at the end of a cul-de-sac, front by gates and a private garden.

Sebastian stopped in mid-stride. “You feel that?”

Kham rubbed his forehead. “The throbbing headache? Why yes, I feel that all the time.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not that. I can feel…energy, surrounding that home. It’s like a hand gently but insistently resisting our approach.”

“Perhaps that’s what Peg-Leg meant by Carthy being protected by Cadic,” said Dril.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t seem to be all that effective in stopping us.” Kham walked right up to one of the guards. “We’re here to see Carthy.”

“No Carthy here,” said the guard coolly.

“It’s about the Cycle of R’lyeh,” added Sebastian. “Father Peg-Leg sent us to ask him about a sextant.”

The guard’s eyes widened. He spun on one heel and disappeared into the house.

A few minutes later, the guard returned. “Caleb will see you now.”

They were led through a high, clutter hall towards a door. Souvenirs of a life tied to the sea was everywhere: a captain’s wheel hung from the wall where other people might have a mirror, a fighting-net covered another wall section, and a harpoon and shark jaw sat above the doorway. The whole place smelled of musty salt air.

Inside, the comfortable, well-appointed sitting room contained numerous plush leather chairs and couches. Bookcases ran along the walls in the room and a massive lacquered oak desk sat on one side. The window behind the desk looked out into the backyard garden.

“Caleb will be right with you,” said the guard. He closed the door behind him.

Kham flounced onto the couch and took out his wineskin.

Sebastian walked over to the bookshelves.

Kham shook his head. “Not gonna be that easy.”

The dark-kin shrugged. “It’s mostly nautical themes, but it seems Carthy has an interest in everything from philosophy to modern novels.”

Dril nodded at a picture that hung on the far side of the room, on the wall opposite Carthy’s desk. “Take a look.”

The painting depicted a nautical scene; some kind of ceremony on the deck of a ship at nighttime. The ship’s crew stood around a lighted circle. They looked suspiciously at the two illuminated figures. One of them was obviously a ship’s captain; he looked very upright and warlike in admiral’s uniform. The other wore dark robes and a stern expression on his face, as he handed something to the ship’s captain.

Sebastian squinted. “The banner reads: Victorie Affured.”

“There’s another one over here,” said Vlad. He pointed a painting that hung on the wall adjacent to Carthy’s desk

The painting depicted a striking woman in a full-on pirate outfit; she was tall, confident, and had dark features. She looked stiff and unnatural in the pose, but her face still conveyed arrogance and fire.

The door opened and a tall man entered, wearing a navy-blue dressing gown with a crest over his heart and a cravat around his neck. His thing hair had gone gray, but his face and hands were wrinkled and permanently browned from the salt air. He moved with a cane. And yet, there was a sense of strange vitality coming from him, as if he were a lot stronger than he looked.

Carthy sat down at his desk. “So what’s all this about R’lyeh?”

Sebastian leaned forward. “I’ll come straight to the point. The Temple of Cadic was attacked by the Cult of Leviathan. We were looking for the Cycle of R’lyeh, but Father Peg-Leg directed us to you.”

A pall came over the old man’s face.

“Many years ago my…family,” he spoke in a halting voice, choosing his word very carefully, “swore an oath to Cadic and the Lords of Freeport. We did the city a great service, but bound ourselves to silence about I in return for the protection of the Sea Lord and the god he served. I can tell you that the men you fought in the temple serve the…powers against which my family performed this…services—this sacrifice.”

Carthy swiveled his chair so that it faced the painting of the pirate woman. Then he lowered his face into his hands.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Kham took a swig from his wineskin and cleared his throat.

“Looks like you’ve got quite a lass up there,” he said nonchalantly. Sebastian shot him a glance but Kham put one hand up.

Glad for the excuse to talk about something else, Carthy wiped the back of his eyes with one sleeve. “Ah yes. That’s Black Jenny Ramsey.”

“She looks like a handful,” said Kham with a grin.

“She was,” Carthy managed a weak smile back at him. “I was a rival for her affections. But I lost her to a greater love because…well, I’d rather not talk about it.”

Kham nodded. “I understand.”

“About this R’lyeh…” added Sebastian.

“R’lyeh had something to do with my family’s great sacrifice at the sea battle,” said Carthy. “Leviathan was involved. It is not of this world.”

“We figured,” said Dril. “What about the sextant? The figure in the picture bears a striking resemblance to you.”

“The sextant,” said Carthy. “Aye, the sextant. Yes, that’s my ancestor handing over the sextant; it did indeed prove crucial to our victory. As far as I know, Hell’s Triangle and R’lyeh are just sailor’s stories.”

“My father, Corinalous val’Abebi, thinks that R’lyeh has something to do with a portal—“

Carthy’s eyes widened. “If R’lyeh returns, it means the Full-Fathom Five have somehow regrouped outside of Arcanis. They were some of the fiercest pirates that ever sailed. If the shadow of Leviathan has fallen over Freeport…why, anyone who traveled there would be in grave peril!”

“Comes with the territory,” grunted Beldin.

“Right, we’ve got all that.” Dril was obviously losing his patience. “Do you have the sextant?”

Carthy shook his head. “As far as I know, it remains in the hands of the Sea Lord, stored in the headquarters of the Captains’ Council. My family gave it to the Sea Lord almost 150 years ago.” There was a sudden change in the man’s expression that became unwelcome. “I think our business is done here gentlemen. Please leave.”

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5a - Mishap at The Last Resort

Touldrix Neraldin rolled over to Kham’s side of the bed to face him. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty would have been typical of Kham’s harem of willing lasses if it weren’t for the fact that she had pointed ears and slightly webbed hands. She was undir, thus her allegiance to the Undir Benevolent Association.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way,” she said in a perky voice, “but shouldn’t you be with your father?”

Kham swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a bottle of wine. He poured himself a glass. “And since when did you become my mother?”

Touldrix suppressed a giggle. “After what we just did, I should hope we’re not related.” Her expression turned somber. “But seriously, you haven’t talked to your father in years. Shouldn’t you spend more time with him?”

Kham emptied the glass. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about orcs? Don’t forget what I told you to pass on to Finn.”

Touldrix wrapped the sheet around her and sat up. “That they’re trying to take over Freeport? I think he knows that already.”

“The evidence, woman!” Kham poured himself another glass. “The orcs just attacked a Temple of Cadic. They’re demonstrating in the streets. What more excuse could the Sea Lord’s Guard possibly need—“

“You act like Finn runs the Sea Lord’s Guard,” Touldrix said quietly.

“Well, doesn’t he?”

“It’s not that simple. Besides, my boss has to consider every possibility. Getting Scarbelly arrested is just one of them. Until Scarbelly comes up with this proof he keeps talking about, I’d say he’s not much of a threat. A rabble-rouser, but not much of a threat.”

“I didn’t think Finn paid you to think.” Kham shrugged on his pants. “I’ve got to go meet somebody.” He walked over to Touldrix and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.” Then he left.

Touldrix’s eyes filled with tears. “Finn pays me to do a lot of things,” she said quietly to herself. Then she took a sip from half-empty bottle of wine Kham left behind.

A half-second later she spat out its contents. “What the hell does he mix this stuff with?”

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5b - Mishap at The Last Resort

They regrouped at the Last Resort, recovering from its injuries from the month before like a grizzled old adventurer. Some of the tables and chairs were unfinished, but there was room enough to sit and eat. Bobbin Brandydale’s business would recover so long as there was a place for the lonely and the cheerful to buy a drink.

Dril pounded the table in frustration. “Nobody knows anything about the damned sextant!”

Behind them, a courier called out for Bobbin with a gift-wrapped package in his hands.

“Not even Reed,” said Sebastian, thinking of his friend at the Hall of Records. Reed had been considerably unhappy to see the val and dark-kin together again. “And that’s saying something.”

A barmaid walked over to receive the package. Bobbin was busy.

“Still, he did prove of some use,” added Beldin. “Someone erased all records of R’lyeh and the sextant from official records.”

The courier thanked the barmaid and left.

“But it’s missing,” said Beldin. He took a long slurp from his mug. “Entered by Sea Lord Cromey, checked out by nobody, apparently.”

The barmaid undid the bow, only to discover a jeweled jar inside with five gems in its lid.

“I asked Baldric to see if he could use his influence with the Captains’ Council to learn more,” said Kham. “He said he would meet us here.”

Dril blinked. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Vlad.

Dril held up one finger for silence. They all listened.

Vlad slowly turned to trace the sound. “It sounds like—”

“Ticking!” shouted Beldin. “DOWN!”

The ensuing explosion drowned out his command.

 

[talien]

Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5c - Mishap at The Last Resort

The Last Resort’s interior was a disaster area. The location where the bomb exploded was no more than a smoking black crater.

Vlad stood with Grungronazharr before him. The scorch marks from the blast stopped at his feet, leaving an unharmed “V” behind the big Milandisian.

Heavy smoke hung, inside making vision difficult and breathing hazardous. Wood debris that used to be tables and chairs lay scattered along the east wall along with dozens corpses. There were low moans coming from everywhere.

“Dril’s hurt!” shouted Sebastian. He dragged the Altherian out from beneath a pile of rubble. “Help me!”

Vlad’s ears were still ringing from the explosion. He shook it off and started helping pull Dril out of what was left of the Last Resort.

Over a dozen guardsmen and two sergeants arrive and begin helping people out.

Baldric arrived in full pirate gear. He arrived with Kham at his side.

“It be good t' see ye all again, although I wish it were under different circumstances," he said grimly. “I was walkin' with Kham t' The Last Resort when I saw t' explosion a block away."

One of the sergeants got Baldric’s attention. The two move off to the side so the sergeant could whisper some words to the Captain. The sergeant handed him a blackened, ivory-toned clay jar, obviously broken in the explosion.

Baldric turned back to Sebastian. “They just discovered this jar in t' rubble. Take a look at this.” He held up the bottom of the jar, where a charred marking is visible.

“That’s a marking of the school of evocation,” said Sebastian

“That’s Xangy’s symbol.” Kham dusted off his coat. “He’s a local sculptor. Makes clay pots that are all the rage in the Merchant District.”

“I fear that this explosion might be t' first o' many attacks on t' city. I will offer you a thousand gold doubloons t' see t' investigation t' its conclusion.”

Baldric leaned close to Kham. He handed over the jar fragment, and whispered, “Please look into this with discretion in mind. Freeport has been through a lot in t' past few months and t' last thin' t' citizens need be another conspiracy.”

“We’re all about discretion,” said Kham with a smirk.