Travels through the Wild West: a Forgotten Realms Story

[Lazybones]

Book II, Part 11

The night passed swiftly for the clerics sleeping belowdecks, slowly for the rest of those working to keep the under-crewed vessels moving safely and steadily to the east. By the time that the overcast sky began to brighten with the light of the dawn, the weary mariners were about ready to collapse from exhaustion. Luckily, with the new day the rested clerics were able to renew their divine magics, and soon Delem, Dana, and Ruath were all working to restore their bodies and spirits. The return of the injured crewmembers to duty allowed some of the others to take their rest, and they maneuvered the Gray Raker and Plunder adjacent so that they could switch out crewmembers between the captured vessels and the Raindancer. Captain Horath insisted on shepherding his charges all of the way to safety and he refused to relinquish the helm, calling upon seem deep reserve of energy and determination.

It was well into the afternoon when they caught sight of the tall sea wall of Velen. The gray skies above had darkened with the passage of the day, promising yet more rain before long. The Raindancer, its two prizes trailing close behind, swung around the promontory that warded the harbor and sailed up to the docks of the town.

Velen was a tumultuous place, serving a dual role as a bustling fishing port and as a major naval base for the fighting ships of Tethyr. Only one warship was present in the harbor as they entered the place, a large double-banked galleon, but there were at least a half-dozen other sea-going vessels in addition to a veritable swarm of fishing craft of varying sizes. The day was approaching its end, so many of the latter craft were returning to the harbor, the lucky ones loaded down with the day’s catch.

They attracted the attention of the Harbor Master’s small skiff, and were directed to an open dock near the end of the row of harbor. Even before they had secured their moorings they had attracted the attention of a small but growing crowd; someone had recognized the identity of the pirate vessel that had pulled up to the dock opposite Raindancer.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, as did the following day. While Captain Horath supervised the repairs and resupply of the Raindancer,, with Ruath’s stern gaze urging speed at every turn, the companions took advantage of the respite from the voyage to stretch their legs and enjoy the benefits offered by the town. They sold some of the more valuable items taken from the pirates and used the funds to purchase new equipment, including several bundles of masterwork arrows and bolts to replace those expended in the battle. Benzan added the acid arrows to his arsenal, and spent some time giving pointers to Lok in the use of the massive longbow that had been used by the minotaur. Lok was the only one of them who possessed the strength to fully draw the weapon, and they considered selling it, but were unable to find a buyer willing to offer them a fair price. After some practice, the genasi thought the bow somewhat awkward, and he lacked Benzan’s finesse with the weapon, but he quickly found that its arrows delivered a greater impact than even his heavy crossbow, and at a much faster rate of fire. Satisfied, the genasi unstrung the bow and slipped it into his bag of holding along with a full quiver of arrows.

Cal spent some time poring over the spellbook of the orc wizard. Some of the magic was beyond his capabilities, but there were other spells that he thought that he could grasp, given time to study and reflect upon their magic. His friends were growing a little concerned that the gnome was becoming too withdrawn and isolated, so they pressed him to join them in relaxing and enjoying good food and drink. As word of their accomplishments spread through the town, there was no shortage of individuals willing to pay for either on their behalf, and they were able to work off a lot of the stress from the long voyage and the desperate battle.

The evening of their second day in Velen found the five companions—for they had finally welcomed Dana, blooded in battle beside them, into their circle—seated around a big table in the rear of a bustling tavern near the edge of the dock district of the town. The place was raucous with the sounds of mariners enjoying themselves, both men and women, humans mingled with a smattering of other races, with a roaring fire in the wide hearth banishing the chill settling down over the streets outside. Almost a dozen empty mugs were already scattered across the surface of their table, alongside a trencher that held the remains of what had been a fish of considerable size.

“Another round for the house!” Benzan cried, holding up a fist bulging with gold coins. The occupants of the tavern roared in approval, several crying out a cheer in the tiefling’s honor. Dana shook her head, but Cal grinned.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” he chided, and smiled as he raised his own glass to the tiefling. Indeed, they could afford the extravagance, as they still had over a hundred gold pieces left over after their purchases earlier in the day. Cal remembered when he would have considered that amount a huge sum, back in his youth in Waterdeep, and the thought brought a frown briefly to his face. It was impossible to hold it, however, as a serving girl brought another round of ales to their table.

“I think I’ll head back to the Raindancer soon,” Dana said. She looked a little uncomfortable in this place, still a little unused to the boisterous chaos of the working-class districts.

“Bah, the night is still young!” Benzan cried out, slamming down his empty mug and reaching for another. “Get your hands a little dirty, princess, it won’t hurt you!”

Dana frowned at him, but Cal patted her arm to reassure her. “We’ll go together. It won’t be long now—trust me.”

They all turned as the door opened and a familiar figure entered the tavern. Lok waved to drawn Captain Horeth’s attention, and the slender elf made his way through the crowded room to their table.

“What’s the word, captain?” Cal asked.

“The Raindancer’s fit for sea,” he said. “And not a moment too soon, with the honorable lady Talasca hovering over me like a hungry hawk eyeing a tasty mouse,” he added.

“What about the crew?” Lok asked.

“Our fame has cut a swath to our door,” the captain said, laughing. “I had to turn some prospects away.”

“So when do we leave?” Dana asked.

“On the tide tomorrow morning. So enjoy your evening tonight, because it’s back to sea rations tomorrow!”

“Why don’t you join us, captain?” Cal said. The elf smiled, but shook his head.

“Too much remains to be done. But I did want you to have this. There should be ample time for you tomorrow morning to make use of it before we depart, I should think.” He reached into a pouch and put a small scroll, wrapped in a slender silk ribbon and sealed with a bubble of wax, onto the table.

“What’s that?” Dana asked.

“That, my friends, is a writ from the Artask House, the largest trading concern in Tethyr. It is good for the sum of fifteen hundred gold pieces, your share of the proceeds from the sale of our two pirate vessels. It’s made out to your name, master gnome, but the funds are for all of you, to share as you see fit.”

They all looked at him in surprise, even Benzan’s attention quickly drawn by the announcement to the small scrap of paper.

“That’s very generous, captain, but really…” Cal began. Benzan looked across the table at the gnome incredulously, but the captain cut him off with a warm smile.

“Accept it freely,” he told them. “I have already seen that the other crew—and even the lady cleric—have received their shares, and that the families of the dead crewmembers will be compensated as well. I can assure you that the whole crew shares this view, that none of us would be alive now, or at the very least, free and well, without your assistance.”

“So enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you on the morrow! The trading house is located on the opposite end of the docks, adjacent the barracks. Ask for Master Nalferias, he will be expecting you.”

With that, the elf took his leave.

“Hard to believe that skinny scrap of paper is worth so much money,” Benzan said, his eyes fixed on the scroll as he reached for it. Cal beat him to it, tucking the paper into an inner pocket.

“Why don’t you let me hold onto that,” he said cheerfully. “Tomorrow, we’ll split the money, evenly, and spend it as we each see fit.”

“Hsst—company coming,” Delem said softly, drawing their attention back out into the room.

Delem indicated a knot of eight hulking sailors, each clad in the weathered blue tunic of the Tethyrian navy, making their way from the opposite side of the room toward them. It was impossible not to notice them—they’d only been in the tavern for little under an hour, but they’d made more noise than most groups twice their size and they left a pile of empty mugs behind them that rivaled even Benzan’s accomplished pace. They sauntered over to the companions’ table, and people made way for them as they came.

Their apparent spokesman was a burly figure of a man who had at least a trace of orc blood in his ancestry from the look of him. His head was completely shorn, giving a clear view of the numerous scars that crossed his temples. His companions, equally imposing, fanned out behind him, forming a muscled wall that muted some of the noise from the common room behind them.

“Gentlemen,” Cal said in greeting. “What can we do for you?”

“Me an’ my boys heard that yous was the guys who took down Gohr and the Gray Raker, the leader said. “We just wanted to get a look at those who took down the min’otar, and his crew.”

“You sure it was them?” one of his mates chimed in. “All I see is a couple of scraggly rakes and a pair o’shorties.”

“And a nice piece o’ one,” another said, sidling up closer to Dana. “Hey honey, these scrawny guys aren’t gunna give you what you need. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”

Dana’s face darkened. “Well, if it’s smell bad and act like a pig, thanks, I’ve already seen it,” she replied.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we don’t want any trouble,” Cal began, but he was interrupted as Benzan suddenly lurched up from his chair and faced the leader.

“Here we go,” Cal said, throwing up his hands.

“Yeah, you gotta problem, little man?” the sailor said to Benzan, who gave up almost a foot and at least fifty pounds in comparison with the scarred man.

“I don’t have a problem,” Benzan said, his voice quiet but with an edge like a sharpened blade. “Like my friend said, why don’t you move along; we’re just trying to enjoy a quiet evening before another voyage.”

The sailor leaned even closer; now less than a foot separated the two men’s faces. “There’s something strange about you, buddy, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not the one whose mother laid down with an orc, by the looks of it.”

The room around them suddenly got really quiet. A ripple of expectant tension passed through the sailors and the companions, interrupted by the rough voice of the tavernkeeper behind the bar. “Take it outside,” he ordered, and as they glanced over they saw that his words were backed up by a loaded crossbow pointed in their direction.

“Yeah, you wanna take it outside, little man?” the sailor said.

Benzan looked at his companions. Cal shook his head, and Benzan turned back to the sailor.

“I think we’ll just leave.”

“Hah! Coward!” the sailor said. He and his comrades hurled other taunts and laughed as the five companions gathered up their possessions and started for the door.

Lok was the last to leave, and as he walked past the row of sailors, the leader looked down at him with contempt.

“Get out of here. Freak.” And with that, he spit in the genasi face.

Benzan turned, and for a moment his hand dropped to the hilt of his scimitar. Cal caught him, however, and anger flared in the gnome’s eyes. Lok wiped the spittle from his wrinkled face, but he seemed otherwise unmoved by the insult.

“You’ll never know how close all of you came to dying today,” the gnome said. “But we’ll be happy to teach you fools some manners, outside.”

 

[Talindra]

Just wanted to let you know I'm still here, even if I have been lurking. Anyway, great new post, although I'm surprised at Benzan showing such restraint. And I have to say, every day at work, I check my inbox eagerly to see if you have posted, so you're not alone.

 

[Ziggy]

Thanks for the feedback, Horacio! I always enjoy seeing reply notices in my inbox at work when I'm sneaking some story-hour time. (now, where did all my other posters go? )

I'm still here, but too busy to write a long reply...

But I'm enjoying the story, so keep up the good work

.Ziggy

 

[Lazybones]

Thanks for the posts, Talindra and Ziggy! You know us writers... fragile egos and all . I have to say, I've been a writer for going on ten years now, and I've always done it mainly for my own enjoyment, but with this new story I've gotten sort of addicted to the positive feedback. Plus it's a great antidote to the form-letter rejections from agents and publishers for my other work .

Anyway, don't worry, Talindra... I'm not going to turn Benzan into a goody-two-shoes (he'll continue get the group into trouble as usual... although he is growing, I think).

* * * * *

Book II, Part 12

The alleyway behind the tavern became in impromptu sparring ground where the combatants gathered. Rank smells hung over the dirty cobblestones, and rats cleared away with squeaks of protest as the two groups faced off against each other.

“Remember, no fatalities,” Cal quietly cautioned his companions as they left the tavern. The law in Velen was that of the wild frontier; justice was harsh and swift. Captains of vessels were responsible for the actions of their crews while in the port, and none of them wanted to make trouble for Captain Horeth.

There was no coordination, no planning, no discussion of ‘rules’. Once the last sailor had come around the corner into the alley, all eight of them leapt at the companions, meaty fists raised to strike.

They were ready.

Benzan struck first, connecting with a solid punch to the face that sent his opponent reeling. The sailor behind him, however, struck Benzan with a cross to the jaw. The tiefling staggered as the world around him seemed to shift out of focus, and he felt the salty tang of blood in his mouth.

Too late, he realized the danger. Luckily, Cal had seen it.

“They’re using iron knuckles!” the gnome shouted in warning, as the alley swarmed with sailors and adventurers in a confused melee.

A pair came at Delem, dark smiles on their faces, holding up their hands to reveal the thin metal bars they wore across their fists. Momentarily at a loss, as nearly all of his magic was designed to be lethal, he retreated swiftly until the wooden wall of another building cut him off. His attackers came on at a full charge, but cried out in surprise as the sorcerer summoned a flare that momentarily dazzled them. The respite was brief, however, and the two quickly came at him, fists raised to strike.

Three of the sailors swarmed on Lok, whose heavy armor made him all but invulnerable to even their iron-enhanced punches. Their strategy seemed to be to overwhelm and overbear him, and two tried to grab onto the genasi’s arms while the third tried to punch him in the face.

That strategy might have worked, if Lok hadn’t been so strong.

The genasi hurled the first sailor into the one trying to hit him, and both went down in a gangly pile of arms and legs. The last tried to maintain his grip on the genasi, to trip him up, but he might as well been trying to trip a tree. Lok slammed the sailor in the face with his stony fist, once, twice, three times, until he released his hold and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The last sailor came at Dana, chuckling to himself. “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he leered, as he reached out for her with his dirty hands. Dana easily evaded his grasp, and brought her foot up in a high arc that snapped back down swiftly into the man’s face. His eyes grew unfocused as he just stood there, stunned, and he didn’t even see the follow-up punch that knocked him roughly to his back on the cobbles.

Cal, meanwhile, had assumed a fighting position, his small fists ready for battle, but he once again was ignored as the melee raged around him. Shaking his head in disappointment, he turned and put the two men closing on Delem to sleep.

Benzan was really the only one still having trouble, as he faced off against his two adversaries. The one that had hit him was the leader who had challenged him in the tavern, and the tiefling barely avoided another powerful punch that swept so closely by his head that he could feel the breeze of its passage. The second sailor, recovered from Benzan’s first strike, hit him in the side, but the blow did little against the mithral chainmail that he wore under his tunic.

“You chose the wrong group of strangers to pick a fight with,” Benzan said as he dodged backward and prepared for another attack.

“I don’t think so,” the leader said, his face twisting into a feral snarl. He came at Benzan again, angling for his right side, while his companion approached from the left. Benzan recognized the flanking maneuver, and responded with a swift attack of his own before they could press him from both sides. His punch connected solidly, but the leader seemed to shrug off the powerful blow. Benzan’s eyes widened in surprise—the man’s skin seemed as tough as leather, although he looked completely ordinary. Benzan was unable to fully avoid the return punch, and the heavy impact on his shoulder spun him around into the attack of his ally, which connected with the tiefling’s already battered jaw and knocked him hard against the nearby wall.

The two sailors came into finish him, but to their amazement, the tiefling suddenly jumped up, a wild smile on his face. That amazement turned to horror as the tiefling’s features twisted and reformed before their eyes, revealing the horrible visage of a terrible demon!

“I didn’t sign on for this!” one of the sailors cried out, and he spun and fled down the alleyway and vanished into the night. The leader remained, but hesitated, the fear evident in his eyes as well. Had he been more aware he might have noticed that the slavering demon made no sound, or that the shadowy form of Benzan could still be seen behind the demon, leaning up against the wall where he had initially fallen.

Dana, having sent her first adversary into the blissful realm of unconsciousness, came to Lok’s aid. The genasi didn’t really need the assistance, but he knocked one of his semi-conscious adversaries her way anyway, for her to finish with a potent punch to the head. Delem stepped gingerly over his two sleeping opponents, and moved up beside Cal to see if any of the others needed any help.

The sailor leader belatedly realized two things. First, that the ‘demon’ wasn’t doing anything but stand there, and secondly that he was rapidly becoming the only conscious one of his group left in the alley. He turned to retreat, but before he could cover two steps Benzan came barreling out at him through the illusion, slamming hard into his side and driving him into the far wall. The sailor staggered, but managed to strike back with an ineffectual blow that struck Benzan in the rear of his shoulder. The two combatants separated but quickly came at each other again, each landing a solid punch against the other.

Lok, finally free of adversaries, came forward to help, but Cal forestalled him. “Let’s see if he can pull it out,” he said. He kept his wand of healing at the ready, just in case.

The four of them watched as Benzan and the seemingly indefatigable sailor traded blow after blow. Benzan looked ready to go down at any moment, but somehow he remained standing after each successive punch. His agility and armor gave him an edge, but one that was balanced by the thin iron bar that the sailor wore across his right fist. Finally, the sailor overextended himself on a punch that went badly awry, and Benzan caught him with a solid cross to the side of his head that laid him out on the dirty cobbles, unconscious and bleeding.

The tiefling turned and saw his companions there, watching him. “Thanks for the help,” he said, as he staggered toward them, nearly falling.

Delem went quickly to his aid, summoning a healing spell to restore him.

“It looks like you had the matter well in hand,” Cal said.

“These sailors seemed to have a death wish,” Dana said, toeing one unconscious form with disgust written plain on her features.

“Not sailors,” Benzan said, looking better as Delem’s powers eased the pain of his battered jaw and bruised body. “Skilled toughs, thieves, posing as sailors. I should have seen it earlier, really. That whole set-up in the bar, they way they fought—these guys were professionals.”

“Not professional enough,” Cal remarked. “Let’s get back to the ship—this isn’t our town, and we’ll be on our way soon enough.”

“Just one moment,” Benzan said. He bent over the fallen leader of the thugs and quickly searched him. He unconsciously pocketed the small stash of coins he found on the man, but found what he was really looking for—a small amulet fashioned of woven silver threads on a throng around his neck—and quickly took it.

“I’ll explain later,” he told his curious friends. “Let’s get out of here.”

His companions readily agreed, and they departed swiftly, leaving seven bruised and groaning toughs in their wake.

 

[Horacio]

I knew it! I knew it wasn't a normal bar fight but an ambush.
But who ordered it and why?
...

 

[Croaker]

Lazybones, you certainly have a gift for this stuff. I just read the entire story thus far (a verrry slow day at work) and must agree with all the other posters, you are doing an excellent job!

Might our heroes be lucky enough to see some of the fabled thunder-lizards of Chult once they get there?

Keep up the great work!

 

[Lazybones]

Horacio: good question! Goodness knows our heroes have made a lot of enemies in a very short time... but the fact that the word had gotten out so quickly about the demise of a very famous--and very wealthy--pirate lord probably drew the unwanted attention of the thieves of Velen. Of course, it's always possible that deeper forces might be working behind the scenes (as always!)

Croaker: thanks, and welcome to the story! Your question is very timely, given the plot ideas I've sketched out for future installments (you'll see what I mean, shortly )


* * * * *

Book II, Part 13

Repaired and replenished, with a new crew and renewed sense of purpose, the Raindancer went swiftly on its way, eating up the miles as it sailed steadily southward.

The weather held, with several new storms blowing past, but remaining just to the north of them. With a steady following wind they quickly navigated Asavir’s Channel and turned east, following the southern coast of the Velen Peninsula along the route known to sailors as the Race. The name seemed to hold true as the winds followed them along this route, allowing them to keep to their swift pace. They passed several islands, some bare spots of rock, others miles-long clusters of hill and forest, but saw no other ships, or any living creatures save for the occasional curious dolphin. The companions went about their normal activities, engaging themselves in work, leisure, or study as they saw fit.

They’d cashed in their writ from Captain Horath before their departure, so the weight of several freshly minted gold trade bars snuggled comfortably in their bag of holding. Benzan now wore the amulet he’d taken from the leader of the thugs they’d defeated; experimentation had confirmed his initial suspicion that the device bore an enchantment that toughened the skin of the person wearing it. With that additional natural armor protecting him, he felt better prepared for the next challenge.

As the days passed quietly, however, they began to feel that perhaps they’d left the worst dangers of the journey behind them. On the afternoon of their sixth day out of Velen, however, the now-familiar cry of the watchman drew the companions again to the aft deck. Captain Horath’s spyglass was out again, trained this time on a cluster of distant specks that hovered out over the surface of yet another small island several miles distant to their port side and ahead.

“What is it, captain?” Cal asked.

“Birds, maybe…” the captain replied, uncertain. “Big ones, looks like… coming this way.”

“Fat lot of excitement for nothing, then?” Benzan said lightly, but the others were not so ready to let down their guard. The captain had proven his instinct for danger that threatened his vessel, so they went about their preparations and kept an eye on the distant birds.

They did not have long to wait for the captain’s suspicions to be confirmed. The specks drew steadily nearer, making an apparent beeline for their position as the ship drew closer to the island. The captain took frequent looks at them through his glass, and handed it briefly to Delem when the sorcerer requested a look.

Delem turned the glass only briefly upon the approaching flock, then directed the glass toward the island.

“What do you see?” Dana asked him.

“There’s a wrecked ship on a reef near the island,” he said. “And I think that there’s a tower on top of the island, along the ridgeline.” He handed the glass back to Horath, who looked at the points Delem indicated.

“I see the shipwreck, but I can’t make out a tower… wait… no, I don’t see it.”

“Still, not a good sign,” Cal said, as he loaded his crossbow and checked to make sure that his wands were within easy reach.

As they drew nearer the specks resolved into eight distinct creatures, flying in a close formation. They didn’t seem particularly large, even as they got closer, but there was something strange about them, an incongruity that they couldn’t quite place.

“Four wings…” Captain Horath said, as he looked again through the spyglass. “They’ve got four wings…”

The companions looked to Cal, but the gnome only shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “But I’ve never heard of any Faerunian native like that…”

“Of course not,” Benzan quipped. “It’d be too easy, if we were attacked by something that we’ve actually heard of…”

The strange birds drew closer until they were almost above the Raindancer, although they were far too high for even Lok’s bow to reach them. For a moment it looked like they were merely curious, content to remain high above, but then the creatures let out a loud squawk that carried clearly down to them, and they dove.

The Raindancer’s ballista could not get enough angle to fire a shot at the diving creatures, so it was Benzan and Lok who fired first, the arrows from their mighty longbows darting straight up into the air at them. Both shots missed, cutting through the formation harmlessly into the open air beyond.

The birds converged on the vessel with incredible speed, and somehow all of the bolts and arrows that were launched at them managed to miss them. As they drew nearer it became clear that in addition to their unusual four wings, the creatures were thin and wiry, with large beaks and long, slender tails that lashed out behind them as they flew. As they neared the ship, they pulled smoothly out of their dive, flying in a roughly circular formation above their heads.

Benzan finally scored a hit with his third arrow, the missile jutting into one bird’s body just below a wing joint. The bird squawked loudly, but the hit did not seem to hinder it as it kept its formation with its brothers.

And then, as the rest of the crew on the ship continued their ineffectual barrage, the birds launched their own attack.

Two swooped out of formation and down toward the crow’s nest, where the watchman was trying to score a hit with his shortbow. He missed with his last shot, and then, as the rest of them watched in amazement from below, both birds darted past at twenty paces distant, their tales lashing out in the direction of the archer. A stream of blue energy arced from each bird, striking the man solidly in the chest. His scream was cut short as he was knocked back, and tumbled out of his perch to fall toward the deck thirty feet below.

Cal whispered a word of magic, and quickly summoned his power. The energy of his spell caught up the hapless crewman, and just ten feet before he would have impacted the deck, his fall slowed to a gentle decline. Even as he landed, Ruath hurried over to him, reading with a spell of healing.

It was of no use, as the man was already dead.

There was little respite for the rest of them, however, as the bird-creatures continued their attack. The others dropped lower as they continued to circle the ship, and several discharged additional strands of electrical energy that slammed into the rigging of the Raindancer. One crossbar gave way with a direct hit, dropping half of the mainsail down onto the deck below.

“Focus your fire on one of them!” Benzan cried, as he targeted the bird he had already wounded. He fired one of his corrosive arrows, and the missile struck the creature again in the torso, splashing it with acid. The arrow clearly had an impact, this time, but the smoking acid seemed to have no effect at all.

“What manner of things are these?” the tiefling asked no one in particular.

It was clear that the birds could be hurt, although their agility in the air made it very difficult to hit them. Lok fired an arrow into the one Benzan had hurt, and with three arrows in it, the bird finally fell and splashed into the sea just off the Raindancer’s hull. Delem immediately started in on the next one, hitting it with a pair of magic missiles. One of the crewmen scored a hit on another, but another dozen missiles either went wide or glanced off of the birds’ unnaturally tough hides.

“This isn’t going very well!” Dana cried out as she hurriedly loaded another bolt into her crossbow.

It suddenly got worse, as the birds turned their electrical attacks upon the crew of the Raindancer.

Streams of energy slammed down onto the decks of the merchantman. Captain Horeth was struck, and staggered, while the crewmember next to him was hit by another and collapsed, wisps of smoke rising from her savaged back. Benzan dove out of the way of another bolt, while Lok took one full on, the electrical energy savaging the tough genasi. Both of the crewmen manning the ballista were hit, and fell, while Dana barely managed to dodge out of the way of the last one as it split open a barrel of fresh water.

“Give ‘em everything you got!” Benzan cried, firing another arrow, and then another after that without pause. His target dodged the first, but the second pierced its breast and struck something vital, by the way that the thing stiffened suddenly and fell into the water. “Take that!” he yelled as his victim vanished under the waves. “Who’s next?” he shouted in challenge.

Encouraged by his example, the others continued their attacks even as allies fell around them. Dana finally hit one, her bolt followed rapidly by two more missiles from Delem. Lok targeted the same one but missed, but another crewmember scored a hit on it a moment later, dropping the creature.

Ruath tended to a fallen crewmember, while Captain Horath continued a string of missed shots, the ordinarily stoic elf letting slip a few frustrated curses. Finally, Cal cast another spell, summoning an illusion of a small dragon that he directed toward the remaining birds. Two of the creatures screeched a challenge at the figment and lashed out at it with their electrical attacks, which of course passed harmlessly through it.

As if in reply to Benzan’s challenge, two of the remaining creatures swept down toward him, their harsh screeches filling the air around him. He drew another arrow, but before he could fire, the two lanced their rays into him, bracketing him with blue energy. The tiefling stiffened and staggered backward, somehow managing to keep his feet as the creatures swept past. As they darted up to regain altitude, Delem launched an arcing strand of flames into the first. The flames roared over the creature’s body, but when it drew away, it appeared to be unharmed by the attack.

“Resistant to fire, too!” the sorcerer breathed.

They were not, however, immune to the continued hail of bolts and arrows, and more of the missiles were beginning to find their marks. Another staggered as it was hit by an arrow from Lok’s bow, and as it tried to wheel away, Captain Horeth finally scored his first hit, impaling the creature with a long arrow. The bird flapped awkwardly down toward the Raindancer, and landed hard on the main deck. It barely had a chance to flap its wings piteously before a cluster of crewmembers hacked the fallen creature to pieces.

Reduced to half their number, the remaining creatures apparently decided they’d had enough, for they turned and headed back toward the island, rapidly gaining altitude as they beat their powerful wings. Benzan hit one more with a parting arrow as they retreated, although the bird did not fall. Soon they were once more out of range, fading again as they reached the skies over the distant island.

“Is everyone all right?” Cal asked. A number of them had been seriously hurt, particularly Benzan and Captain Horeth, and several of the crew were down and unconscious. The clerics responded quickly, though, and only the crewman who’d been in the crow’s nest was beyond help. Given the ferocity of the aerial assault, they counted their blessings and continued warily past the island.

“I wonder who lives there,” Delem said quietly to himself. None of the others had seen the strange tower, and none felt any particular curiosity as the ship quickly left the accursed place well behind them.

They studied the hacked body of the creature that had fallen onto their deck, but they learned little from its mangled form. The mystery of what the bird-creatures were, and what they were doing on that island, would have to wait for another time.

Another day passed into night, as the Raindancer continued on its journey.

 

[Horacio]

Pirates, thieves, four-winged birds...
This voyage is having its's share of hostile encounters. And they aren't even near the end...

 

[Lazybones]

Book II, Part 14

“I think I’ve got it!” Benzan exclaimed loudly, as he came up onto the main deck of the Raindancer. His companions and many of the crew were out on the deck, enjoying the first thoroughly sunny day that they’d had in a while. Cal and Delem shared a look and turned toward the tiefling—they’d heard such claims before, and they’d all come to naught, thus far.

Still, they gave their friend their attention as Benzan, taking a deep breath and putting a look of intense concentration on his face, began speaking a series of arcane syllables while his hands wove a pattern before him in the air.

“…plaribus morix calan!” he concluded.

For a moment it looked as though the attempt was yet another failure, but then, as they watched, thick clouds of clinging mist rose up seemingly out of the planks of the deck around Benzan. Within moments the entire main deck was cloaked in a thick obscuring mist, which started to dissipate almost immediately in the brisk afternoon breeze.

“Impressive,” Lok said.

“Isn’t it?” Benzan said, a wide grin on his face, as he shot a ‘told you so’ look at Delem and Cal.

“Congratulations,” Cal said, extending a hand to his friend. “So it was the conjuration magic that ultimately drew you, then?”

“Yes—I don’t know why, the spells of that school just seemed to call me, somehow. I can’t really explain it.”

“Magic is a strange and wondrous thing, my friend. You do know that the armor you wear, even the exquisite mithral chainmail, will interfere some with the gestures needed for most spells?”

“A price I’ll have to pay, for now,” the tiefling said. “Finally casting my first real spell doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon my other talents, and there’s no way I’m going into battle as unprotected as you and Delem, even with your mage armor.”

“As your talents improve, you may be able to master the skill of casting familiar spells without the somatic component,” Cal suggested.

“Perhaps. Now that I have mastered this new talent, though, I have a favor to ask. I’ve seen that you have great talent in woodcarving. Could you carve a small token for me, a replica of an archery target?”

Cal nodded in agreement, recognizing the component for a spell designed to grant exceptional accuracy to its user in his next attack. They continued their discussion of Benzan’s new abilities, while the others around them returned to their previous activities.

They were only one more day out of the city of Memnon, along Calimshan's northern border, by Captain Horath’s estimation. Their journey had been smooth since their encounter with the strange lightning-birds, save for a few storms that had given them little trouble save for some light rain. As they neared the coastline where Tethyr and Calimshan intersected they had started seeing more vessels, although none of them turned out to be hostile. This part of Faerun was known to travelers as the ‘Lands of Intrigue,’ and there was a great commerce in goods, ideas, and secrets between the various southern nations.

Benzan was not the only one to hone his skills over the recent period. Lok seemed to have finally gotten his sea legs, and he now spent more time above-decks, sparring with some of the crewmembers of the Raindancer. Cal was finally able to recall much of the magical lore that he’d lost through the traumatic stress of being raised from the dead, while Dana and Delem both were able to draw upon more of the power of their respective deities. Collectively, they were growing more powerful, but each felt driven to practice more, study harder, or focus their minds, as they could not shake the feeling that even greater trials would lie ahead for them.

They arrived at the port city of Memnon the following day without incident. They unloaded some of their cargo there, and took on fresh supplies, but Captain Horath made it clear that they would not be staying long. Ruath had been growing somewhat agitated as they drew nearer to their ultimate destination, but she still refused to reveal to any of them any details of her assigned mission. Her desire to press on swiftly was a little contagious, however, and they all felt the passing of time as they disembarked into the city. Still, even hurried as they were, none of them were going to pass up some relaxation on land before the next leg of their journey.

Cal and Dana went off together to the temple of Anachtyr, the local name for the Just God, to see about purchasing some additional healing magic. The others left together on an undefined errand, heading toward the city’s trade quarter. Memnon had been founded as a military outpost, and it still bore a heavily martial atmosphere, but they had little difficulty finding many different sorts of merchants willing to take their precious metals in exchange for goods of any sort.

They returned to the ship before nightfall. Dana had a new wand of healing, purchased through her and Cal’s combined resources. Delem, Benzan, and Lok were a little evasive about how they had spent the day, but they finally revealed their secret as they presented a wrapped package to Cal in their quarters.

“What...?” the gnome exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s a gift,” Benzan said.

They all gathered around him as he carefully peeled back the packaging to reveal an exquisitely crafted lute, polished to a sheen that seemed to drink in the light of their lantern. Cal lifted it wonderingly, and when he strummed a faint melody on it, the music seemed to float through the air of the cabin like a warm breeze.

“It’s amazing!” Cal said in wonder.

“Magical, too,” Benzan pointed out. “Played properly, it can cast several spells a day, including that invisible armor you use, and the sleep spell. Plus it can heal wounds, even. The guy said that in the hands of a ‘true player’, it would automatically communicate the right notes if the user tries to listen.”

“Amazing!” Cal repeated. “How much did this cost?”

“Ah, it wasn’t that much,” Benzan said, in such a way that it was immediately clear that he was lying. “We all chipped in, and unloaded some of the stuff that was just taking up space in the bag of holding, like Lok’s old crossbow, and my old chain shirt.”

“Thanks, all of you,” Cal said.

“We’ve been a little worried about you,” Delem admitted. “You’ve hardly been interested in playing, lately, and rarely sing your battle-songs any more. We just wanted to remind you that we’re here for you, and that we miss the old Cal a little.” Having finished his comment, Delem looked a little embarrassed, but Cal’s smile reassured him.

“You guys are great friends,” he said. “And thanks for being patient with me. It hasn’t been easy… after dying, music and all that bardic stuff didn’t seem to be all that worthwhile. I have to admit, lately I’ve been called more by my magic than by the muse, but I promise you that I’ll always be willing to put this to good use.” He patted the lute, which already seemed well-placed at his side.

“Tomorrow we’ll be back on the high seas,” he told them with a laugh. “Let’s go above decks, watch the waning of the day, and have some fun, eh?”

Laughing, they all joined in a shout of approval.


* * * * *

As you might have guessed, the group has leveled up again; I'm off to post an update to the Rogues' Gallery TttWW thread shortly. As always, feel free to let me know what you think about the current progression of the characters.
LB

 

[Horacio]

Well, Lazybones, that update was one of the most beautiful ways to say 'they leveled up' I've ever read...