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

[talien]

Chapter 61: Red Skies at Morning - Introduction

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.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Prologue

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.”

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 1 – The Getaway

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.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 2 – Libertyville

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.

“Never mind,” said Kham.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 3 – Antechamber

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.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 4 – Desecrated Temple

Kham kicked open the double doors.

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.

Then he snuffed out Kham’s life.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 5 – The Great Betrayal

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.

“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.

“Hello ladies,” he whispered to them both.

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 6 – The Apostate

Floating in between worlds, Kham continued to experience the history of the Freeport’s most notorious pirates.

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.”

Kham blinked. “I think I need a drink.”

 

[talien]

Red Skies: Part 7 – Hell’s Triangle

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.”

 

[talien]

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.

“All hands t’ battle stations!” shouted Baldric. “Enemy craft sighted!”

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.”