Travels through the Wild West: the Isle of Dread

[Lazybones]

Thanks, MasterOfHeaven; I'm glad someone voted for Delem... he's a tough character to write, because he's got such a tortured background (I mean, the guy _did_ kill his parents!). I like the fact that he's sort of clueless (even with his high Wis) yet is developing considerable destructive power (and is the only one in the group with evocation magic). I haven't developed him as much as he deserves lately, what with all the attention I've been lavashing on Cal and Lok and Benzan (give the people what they want, I say!). It's important to remember, though, that Delem is still young (he's the youngest by far of the companions, still in his late teens) and pretty soon his rapidly growing power is going to catch up with him, and lead to some tough choices for him and his friends.

As for me, I voted for the badger, because I didn't want to be seen as playing favorites among any of my major characters .

Today, my boredom at work=double post day for readers! Enjoy!


* * * * *

Book III, Part 3

With its first landing on these strange and foreign shores leading to the loss of two crewmembers, the Raindancer continued cautiously onward to the south. The landscape to their east gradually changed as the day went on, the cliffs and mountains giving way to a dense jungle that extended to the very water’s edge. They did not see any open place where they could land a shore party, however, and none of them were ready to tackle the depths of the jungle. So instead they continued to bear south, passing the long island of the hippogriffs and spotting several more islands ahead along their current course as they followed the shoreline of the larger landmass to their east.

“How are we set for supplies, captain?” Cal asked, as they scanned the face of the distant jungle from the relative safety of Raindancer’s aft deck.

“I’m not so worried about supplies,” Horath replied. “Cleric Talasca has been good enough to augment our stocks her clerical magic, which will stretch our food and water stores for quite some time. I’m more worried about the ship—we took quite a beating in that storm, and she really needs some time in drydock for repairs.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to find a friendly port around here,” Benzan said.

“Sail ho!” came a cry from the lookout, drawing their attention to the starboard rail.

It was not one, but four sails drawing nearer to the Raindancer, coming from the direction of another island south of the one they had just left behind. As the crew began the inevitable preparations for yet another confrontation the passengers watched the approach of the vessels. Soon they could see that the newcomers were not ships at all, but large outriggers containing seven or eight passengers apiece. They were still to far to discern much about them, even through Horath’s glass, although they looked to be human.

“Suppose they’re hostile?” Cal asked.

“Why not?” Benzan groused. “Everything else has been.”

“Let’s keep an open mind,” Horath said, “but be ready, regardless.”

Their angle of approach gave them less wind than the sailing vessel, but the outriggers still managed to close the distance rapidly with the strong oar work of their crews. As they drew nearer Horath moved to the fore deck to greet them, the companions close behind with weapons at the ready. As the four boats approached bow range a figure stood in the bow of the first, and waved to them, as if in greeting. Horath waved back, and the four boats drew nearer, traveling more cautiously now.

“They’re armed, all of them,” Cal noted. They could see the crews of the boats more clearly now, close enough for them to see the variety of weapons they bore and the crude but no doubt functional armor they were dressed in. The men themselves—for they were all male, as far as they could see—looked unusual but not excessively so, short and squat and dark colored, with unruly shocks of rough-cut black hair.

As a precaution, Cal used his wand of mage armor on himself, Delem, and Dana.

As the boats drew within hailing distance, they split up, with two approaching each side of the Raindancer. The leader stood in the bow of his craft again, close enough now for them to see that he wore a shirt of mail links, crafted of an unusual metal with a light gray-green coloration. A few of the others wore similar shirts, but most were clad in what looked like crude leather armor, buckled around their otherwise naked torsos. Also noticeable were the crossbows that many of them carried cocked and ready in their laps.

“All right, that’s close enough!” Horath said, his voice carrying out over the waves. The leader waved in response, and shouted something in reply in an incomprehensible language, but the boats continued to approach, if slowly.

“Does anyone understand what he’s saying?” Horath said.

“I have a spell that can translate,” Dana said, and at Horath’s nod began to focus on strengthening the distant connection to her goddess.

“If they get closer, I can use my charm spell on the leader,” Delem offered.

“Yes, but how would we communicate what we want to him?” Cal wondered.

Meanwhile, Horath shouted another warning, this time accompanied by an outstretched hand and a motion to the half-dozen archers he had along the rail beside him, who leaned forward and readied their weapons for firing. That got the attention of the boatmen, who put down their oars and let their craft drift a mere forty feet or so ahead of the ship’s bow. The momentum of the Raindancer, however, continued to push it closer to the outriggers.

“Finished,” Dana said, as she completed her spell and stepped up beside the elf captain.

“Can your spell help us talk back to them?” Horath asked her.

“No, it just translates what they say.”

“Well, it’s something, at least.”

The leader started talking again, and there was a little bit of an edge to his voice now, as he pointed angrily at the weapons trained his way.

“He says that he just wants to trade,” Dana translated. “He says that not many… outsiders… come to the islands, and that they have what we want.”

“What do we want?” Benzan asked.

“Oh, the usual,” Cal replied. “Peace, happiness, understanding between men.”

Horath shot an annoyed glance at the two and turned back to the rail, clearly frustrated that he could not communicate with the strange boatmen. Clearly the leader was feeling the same way, unaware that his words were in fact being understood. He reached down and hefted something toward them, a string of gleaming metal that seemed to glitter in the sunlight.

“Hello,” Benzan said, trying to make out what the shining item was.

The ship had drifted closer to the boats, meanwhile, until only a dozen paces or so separated them. The leader of the boatmen gestured at Horath again, holding up the precious item, making a gesture that seemed to indicate that he wished to come aboard to barter.

“They’ve got rope and grapples,” Delem warned, noticing that some of the men on the outriggers were concealing them behind their bodies as the ships drew nearer.

“They’re not getting on board my ship,” Horath snarled. “Fire a warning shot!” he shouted to one of his men, and as the archer fired his arrow into the bow of the leading outrigger, the boatmen attacked.

Arrows darted back and forth between the two groups, and with the close proximity, many found their marks. Three of Horath’s crew staggered back from the rail, injured, and the elf captain himself took a hit, an arrow lodging in his upper arm. The companions’ armor and magical protections served them much better, and Dana even knocked an arrow aimed at her aside with her palm, surprising the rest of them with her trained reflexes.

“You’ll have to teach me that trick!” Benzan said, as he fired his bow into the boatmen swarming toward the sides of the ship.

The boatmen fought ferociously, but it was soon clear that they were greatly outmatched. Cal played a magical tune on his lyre that sent three of the boatmen to the floor of their outrigger, fast asleep, and Delem sent a stream of flames into a second craft that blasted another trio of attackers and sent them diving screaming into the water. Benzan and Lok both hit with their mighty bows, each dropping their adversary, while Dana’s crossbow bolt went awry and fell harmlessly into the waves.

A dozen grapples sailed up onto the Raindancer’s decks, most of them catching on the railing of the low middle deck. Even as the first of the boatmen scrambled on board, however, members of the crew gathered to repulse them, stabbing the intruders with cutlasses or striking them solidly with clubs. A knot of six attackers managed to get on board and formed into a defensive wedge, striking down a pair of crewmen who tried to attack them, but that wedge quickly crumpled as Lok barreled down the stairs from the foredeck and charged into the enemy ranks. The crude cutlasses of heavy iron used by the hostile warriors glanced off of the genasi’s plate armor, while his axe in turn swept back and forth like a reaper’s scythe, slaying a lightly armored defender with each stroke.

The leader of the boatmen apparently recognized the ultimate outcome of this confrontation, for he started shouting orders and the outriggers that were still manned began to turn, their crew plying their oars furiously in retreat while their fellows kept up a withering barrage of arrows. The archers quickly fell, though, as Benzan and the other archers of Raindancer kept up their fire, striking down each one in turn. Dana had already turned to help their own wounded, and Delem, stepping to the rail, launched another stream of flames that arced across the waters to flare into the sail of the lead outrigger as it turned away, transforming the hapless craft into a pyre.

The men working the oars of the burning boat leapt into the water and started to swim to the other retreating craft, but to their amazement, the leader simply stepped out of the boat and onto the waves, running across the water to the second boat.

“Magic!” Delem whispered at the sight.

The burning outrigger broke up and sunk beneath the waves, and a second remained against the side of the Raindancer, its crew bleeding on the deck of the ship or drowned in the surrounding sea. The other two retreated back toward the southwest, toward the island visible in the distance in that direction.

The companions turned to help Horath and his crew secure the ship. Most of the half-score boatmen that had made it aboard were dead, run through by the crewmembers or dismembered by Lok’s axe, but one was still breathing, and was stabilized with a minor healing orison by Dana. The man was in no shape to offer any further resistance, but they kept a close watch on him nonetheless. Of their own crew, only one injury was fatal, the quick action of the clerics again turning what might have been critical injuries into lesser wounds.

“We can’t keep losing crewmembers like this!” Horath growled, clearly frustrated by the loss of another of his crew. A pair of sailors were detailed to clean up the body, while others started tossing the corpses of the invaders overboard after looting them of any useful or valuable items.

“I say we don’t let them get away with it,” Benzan suggested.

“What, go after them?” the captain said. “But… for all we know, there’s a whole city of them on that island, and more outriggers.”

“All the more reason to bring the attack to them,” the tiefling reasoned. “Do we want to let them get organized, and come after us in force?”

“Our spells are depleted,” Delem said, “and some of the crew are still injured.”

“It isn’t wise to head into a dangerous situation where one has no information,” Lok added.

“Perhaps not,” Cal said, as an idea came to him. He turned to Dana, who was finishing bandaging an injured crewmember nearby. “Dana, is your spell of comprehension still in effect?”

“Yes—for a few more minutes, at least.”

Cal turned to Delem. “Delem, why don’t you use some healing, and bring our injured captive around?”

The sorcerer nodded. “And maybe use some other magic as well, see if we can earn his trust,” he said, understanding where the gnome was going with his plan.

While the crew continued securing the ship after the battle, the companions turned to their prisoner. Delem used his healing magic to bring the injured man back to consciousness, then cast his spell of charming. The stirring warrior stared into Delem’s eyes, caught up in the swirling flames that shone there, and within a few moments was talking animatedly with them. He could not understand any of them, of course, but Cal and Delem were able to pantomime enough to get their meaning across, and Dana translated what the man related in response.

They learned a lot in the brief interview, and the information did not endear them to the aggressive folk who had attacked them. They called themselves the Inselvolk, a word that Dana translated roughly as “people of the islands.” The large landmass to their east was just another island, albeit a large one, that they called “the Isle of Dread.” Several villages existed on the southern part of the big island and the smaller islands nearby, but the bulk of the Isle of Dread was populated by “powerful spirits” and huge monsters.

“Sounds like a regular paradise,” Benzan commented.

The people who attacked them were based on the island to the southwest, where they had a fortified outpost. He said that there were nearly a dozen more warriors back at their outpost, to defend the base and guard their captives. They made their living by raiding the other villages, taking slaves and selling them to people living on a more distant cluster of islands to the west. The whole region was called the “Thanegioth Archipelago,” and extended for thousands of miles, as far as they could deduce from their captive’s comments. He hinted of other civilizations and a continent far to the north, but his knowledge of such lands was extremely sketchy.

Dana’s spell expired before the man stopped talking, and the companions retreated to discuss what they had learned. Before they could say much, however, Horath came over to them, a worried look on his face.

“What is it, captain?” Cal asked.

“I’ve just come from below decks,” the elf responded. “I don’t know if it was being bumped by those outriggers, or just the ongoing strain on the storm-damaged hull, but we’re taking on water. Both the center and aft bilges are filling up—I’ve got crewmembers working on bailing and patching the seams, but we’re going to need to drydock the Raindancer, and sooner rather than later.”

Benzan glanced down at their prisoner, who offered a gap-toothed smile up at them in return. “Seems like a fortified slaver outpost would be just the thing,” he said.

“It’ll be well defended,” Horath offered.

The companions shared a meaningful look. “We’ll see,” Lok said, hefting his axe.

 

[Horacio]

First pirates, now angry islanders. It seems a old Errol Flinn movie...

Errol Flinn as a tiefling warrior/rogue, what an idea!

 

[Thorntangle]

Are the crewmen of the Raindancer wearing red shirts by any chance?

Great update, Lazybones.

 

[Lazybones]

Horacio: Yup, gotta love those old adventure movies (The Adventures of Robin Hood [the original] is still one of my favorites)! I always thought Errol Flynn had a bit of demon blood in him (I love his movies, but I hear he was a real character off the screen).

Thorntangle: funny you should say that... I'm a little ahead on the story, and let's just say that the common crewmembers are going to start getting real nervous!

* * * * *

Book III, Part 4

The raider camp was nestled in a rocky cove on the eastern side of another long island, surrounded by low hills that were covered with thick tangles of clinging brush. Three wooden towers warded the perimeter of the camp, which was also surrounded by a thick wall of dense thornbushes that had been gathered and weighed down with rocks. The camp itself consisted of about a dozen crude but functional wooden huts, while a narrow cave entrance was visible at the base of one of the hills at the very rear of the encampment. Two of the long outriggers were beached on the sandy shore in front of the huts.

“They’re ready for us,” Horath said as he lowered his spyglass, after relating each of the details of the camp that he’d seen to the others gathered around him. They were again on the foredeck of the Raindancer, as the ailing ship made its way gradually toward the pirate camp. The sun had already touched the horizon to the west, and night was approaching quickly, but given their situation, no one suggested postponing the attack.

“How many?” Benzan asked.

“Looks like two or three in each of the towers, and more around the area of the huts. Looks like most of them are trying to stay out of sight, however.”

“So, what is your plan?” Ruath asked. The halfling cleric still looked somewhat haggard, as she had since they’d entered this… place, but at least she was now actively participating in their deliberations.

“We go straight in, and take them out,” Cal offered plainly.

“That’s it?” the halfling replied, her brow furrowing as she frowned, an expression quite familiar to all of them. “What if they have a wizard, or other spell-caster? What if the shore is too shallow for the ship to approach? You seem rather eager to risk the ship and its crew, adventurer.”

“Look, the ship isn’t going to stay afloat much longer anyway, in its current condition,” Cal replied. “We know from our prisoner that there aren’t more than two dozen of them left, including the ones that escaped before. Once we take out the slavers, we’ll find a place where we can safely beach the ship, and start repairs.”

“It looks like they picked a choice location,” Horath noted. “The curve of the shoreline and the hills behind offers good shelter from any storms.”

“I remember when those odds would have given us pause,” Benzan said, though his smile betrayed his enthusiasm. “Headlong into danger, then?” he added, with a wink at Dana.

“Maybe we should just take the outrigger, land further up the coast, and come at them by land,” Lok suggested. They’d taken the twenty-foot long craft left by the slain boarding party, and now towed it behind Raindancer. Given the current state of the ship, it had seemed a reasonable precaution to have a backup. “Benzan and I can manage just fine in the dark, and we can guide you in.”

“Yes, but we don’t know the lay of the land, and I’m thinking that maybe that wall of thorns is there for good reason,” Cal replied. “And given what we’ve seen thus far, I don’t think it’s a good idea to divide our forces.”

“Well, they’ve seen us by now anyway,” Benzan said. “Since we’ve knocked, it’s only polite to come in for a visit.”

With uncertainties remaining, but with fewer options, they started making preparations as the Raindancer drew steadily nearer to the sheltered cove.

* * * * *

Horath returned to the wheel, guiding the ship gently into the shallows while crewmembers on each rail called out soundings and watched for sandbars, reefs, or other obstacles hidden under the waves. Meanwhile, the passengers went to work readying themselves for the coming battle. Cal renewed the mage armor protecting himself, Dana, and Delem, and he offered its protection as well to Ruath. At his offer, however, the halfling shook her head, and at Cal’s look of surprise pulled back the collar of her heavy tunic to reveal the shiny steel links of a magical mail shirt underneath.

So there’s more to her than meets the eye, Cal thought, as he rejoined the others at the bow. Lok and Benzan had already strung their heavy bows, and the genasi had taken out another bundle of arrows from the bag of holding for them to refill their quivers. Lok also took out several lengths of rope and fastened them to the rail in front of them, in case they needed to disembark quickly from the ship.

“Remember the battle against the hobgoblins at the mine?” Cal asked his friends, eliciting a nod from Lok, Benzan, and Delem. Dana’s face betrayed her confusion, but Benzan just told her to stay behind cover, and follow Cal’s lead.

They could all make out the warriors within the camp, now, loading their crossbows from the cover of the towers or dodging from one prepared position to another amidst the huts. There were fewer than had attacked them on the high seas earlier, but this time the raiders were on the defensive, on their prepared ground. Each of them anticipated a tough fight ahead.

Cal took the summit once again, stepping up atop a storage locker so that he had a clear view out over the ship’s rail.

“What are you doing?” Dana asked him. “You’ll be a sitting duck for those archers…”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Lok said, taking up a position just behind the gnome. Benzan stepped up to his opposite flank, adjusting his quiver so the arrows crowded within were in easy reach.

“Now remember, if you see a wizard, SHOOT HIM FIRST!” Benzan said. “And maybe take out those guys in the weird chainmail, too—they’re probably leaders.”

The ship gained momentum as it got caught up in the surf, thrusting it forward toward the beach. They could hear the shouts of the raiders, now, and a few missiles even lanced out toward them, though they were still just out of range.

Cal cast his first spell, summoning an invisible shield of force into being in front of him. The timing was perfect, as the first bolt to reach the ship thudded into the hull just a few feet below him, and others were soon on their way. Benzan and Lok launched their first volley of return fire at the snipers in the two towers along the seaward edges of the camp. Dana and Delem supported them with their crossbows, and a number of the crewmembers added to the volume of fire as well, shooting from positions of cover along the ship’s rail. The distance was extreme, and both sides had cover, so no one scored any hits in the first few volleys. The ballista crew added its voice to the barrage, although its first missile too sailed wide of its mark.

One of the lookouts shouted a warning, and Captain Horath quickly followed that with a command. “Brace yourselves!” the elf cried, and all missile fire stopped for a moment as they all grabbed onto something solid.

The ship ran up onto the sandy shelf of the beach with great force, sending a shudder through the very frame of the Raindancer. Crew and passengers staggered against whatever barrier they had braced themselves against, and once the initial inertia of the impact had faded, returned to their weapons.

They were still a good thirty feet from where the surf finally lapped up against the shore, with another twenty feet beyond that to where the line of huts and towers began. The range was close enough, however, for the attacks from both sides to begin telling, however. A crossbow bolt caught one of the crewmembers in the face, killing her instantly, while Delem was grazed by a bolt that managed to make it both past his makeshift cover and the mage armor protecting him.

The return fire, however, was even more telling. Benzan had shifted into his rapid-fire mode again, drawing and firing arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy. One raider in the northern tower crumpled, an arrow stuck deep in his chest, and just a few moments later one of his companions staggered with another jutting from the muscle of his arm. Lok fired an arrow of his own, and Delem added a pair of magic missiles, and shortly there were no further attacks from that tower.

A cluster of raiders emerged from behind several of the huts, hefting javelins that they hurled at the beached vessel. A pair of the missiles glanced off of Cal’s shield, and several more stuck into the front of the ship, but none were able to find targets. The return fire was far more effective, dropping one with two bolts stuck in him and injuring at least two others. The spear-chuckers retreated back to their cover, leaving their dying companion lying in the sand behind them.

Thus far Cal’s strategy was working, as he was drawing much of the fire from the shore and had yet to take a hit through his potent defenses. The bowmen shifted their fire to the southern tower, and started scoring hits there as well. Captain Horath joined them on the foredeck, and soon his longbow was contributing to the barrage.

Despite their success thus far, however, it was clear that they were approaching a stalemate, as the bulk of the raiders refused to come out of cover again. “Looks like we’re going to have to go down there!” Benzan said.

The occupants of the third tower, perched atop a low mound in the rear of the camp, had already decided that trading shots with the occupants of the ship wasn’t worth it, and the three crossbowmen there hustled down the ladder to find more effective cover than what the flimsy towers could offer. One didn’t make it, an arrow from Benzan’s bow catching him squarely in the back as he leapt down. The other two towers were silent, their occupants dead or dying from the barrage unleashed by the men and women on board the Raindancer.

Benzan looked down, surprised to see Ruath step up beside him. “Fight with bravery, warrior,” she told him, and touched him lightly on the arm. Benzan felt a surge of strength fill his muscles, and he looked down at the halfling with amazement as she stepped back from him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Can you maybe summon up a few of those mystic badgers to lead the charge, when we get down there?” The cleric nodded, and began focusing her mind to begin the summoning.

A few of the raiders occasionally became visible, sticking their heads out from cover to view them, not to attack. The companions kept firing occasionally, to keep the raiders’ heads down, while Lok and Benzan slung their bows and reached for the ropes.

“Wait a moment,” Cal said. “Maybe I can improve the odds a little for our side.”

He began chanting, casting two spells in rapid succession. The others watched as he created an illusion, remarking as images of each of them rose up out of the surf and started running across the sands. As the illusory group drew closer to the huts sounds started coming from them, vague but fierce-sounding cries of battle.

At that sound a half-dozen raiders emerged from their positions of cover, launching javelins at the charging figments and drawing their cutlasses. They realized their mistake as soon as the spears passed through the illusion, but it was already too late as missiles rained down on them. A pair of Delem’s magic missiles caught one of the men dressed in the gray-green mail, and he fell a moment later as Benzan, following his own advice, shot an arrow into him. Two more of the warriors staggered, hit by bolts or arrows, but they managed to make it back to the shelter offered by the huts.

“Now, after you,” Cal said.

Benzan and Lok clambered quickly down the ropes, while the others covered them with missile weapons from above. The surf was still fairly deep where the bow of the ship rested, and Lok disappeared for a moment as he let go of the rope, only to emerge a few paces away as his powerful legs carried him swiftly through the swirling water. As soon as he and Benzan were clear Delem and Dana started down, the agile monk moving far more smoothly than the sorcerer. In fact, Dana joined Benzan at the water’s edge before Lok reached it, and the three started toward the line of huts, their weapons at the ready.

The members of Raindancer’s crew followed bravely, disembarking from the lower middle deck and making their way through the surf toward the shore, Captain Horath at their lead. Cal kept his vantage point at the ship’s prow, ready with crossbow and spell to assist his companions as needed.

The raiders kept out of sight, spooked by the illusion and the deadliness of the fire from the beached ship. They even hesitated when Lok and Benzan rounded the first of the huts, both fighters yelling a challenge as they slashed into the defenders. True to her word, Ruath’s badgers—three this time—appeared moments thereafter, and immediately started attacking the nearest raiders.

Even with all of the losses they’d taken thus far, the raiders fought fiercely. Maybe it was being attacked in their lair that drove them on, or just a desire to avoid the fate they’d so often visited upon others.

Benzan rushed into a pair of raiders, his scimitar downing the first with a vicious cut to the throat before the man could even raise his cutlass in defense. The second tried to stab him, but the blade clanked harmlessly against the magically-enhanced links of his chainmail. Lok, just a short distance away, charged into a group of three, dropping the first with a powerful blow to the chest and only narrowly missing the second with his follow-up stroke. The remaining pair fought well, moving to flank the genasi, but neither could penetrate the metallic skin of his plate mail.

Belatedly realizing that this attack was real, the rest of the raiders quickly joined in the melee. One only made it a few steps before he fell, Cal’s crossbow bolt jutting from his chest, but the others still made a significant force. Five came in from one flank, and found themselves facing the summoned badgers, who fought with a fury indistinguishable from that of the real thing. From the other direction came the remaining five, including the familiar face of the leader they’d encountered back on the high seas. Dana interrupted one with a sweeping kick that knocked the legs out from under one of him, but did not have time to finish him as two of his companions came to his aid, cutlasses darting for her unarmored flesh.

Benzan found his remaining adversary, one of the leaders clad in chain armor, to be a more difficult challenge than the first man he’d dropped. The man met his attacks with effective parries, though his cutlass was a far inferior weapon to Benzan’s scimitar. Benzan could also risk more in his attacks, for his armor covered far more of his body. Soon the man sported a pair of serious gashes, and his defense began to falter.

Across from him, Lok was still fighting off a pair of attackers, and reinforcements were coming quickly from the flank. His attackers were far more mobile than he was, so he waited and let them come to him, coordinating their attacks well as they thrust at him from both sides. He didn’t even bother to try to deflect the attacks, one of which managed to find a crease and cut into him. Too late the raiders realized that they’d been lulled in, too late as the genasi’s axe swept around in a full circle that sent both men to the sand, never again to rise. Lok barely had time to recenter himself, though, as another pair, including the raider leader, charged into him.

Dana found herself facing two attackers, with a third rapidly regaining his feet behind them. Like the others these coordinated their attacks, moving quickly to flank her. They had not counted, however, on her mage armor, which caught both attacks and deflected them harmlessly aside. Nor did they count on her speed, as she swept a stunning kick into the face of one of the warriors, knocking him flat out on the sand before her. Without pause she spun to face her remaining adversaries, waiting patiently for the next attack.

Meanwhile, on the other flank the raiders had put down the last of the badgers, although only three of the original five still stood. Before they could move to aid their fellows, though, one crumpled with an arrow in his chest, and his companions turned to see a line of charging sailors bearing down on them.

Horath and his crew had joined the battle.

Benzan and Lok, meanwhile, fought on. Benzan’s attacker finally got through his defenses, drawing a shallow gash across the tiefling’s forearm. But the attack cost him dearly, for he overextended himself and was open to the vicious counter that slammed into the side of his neck… and kept going. The warrior’s head flopped down to the sand, his body following shortly thereafter.

Benzan didn’t hesitate, moving immediately to Lok’s aid. The genasi was holding out, although he was again flanked and the raider leader had taken advantage of that to score a minor hit that bled down the side of Lok’s head. Benzan quickly turned the tables on him, however, flanking him in turn as he came up behind him. The veteran fighter tried to disengage, but managed only two steps before Lok roared and lashed into him, scoring a critical hit that utterly disemboweled the hapless warrior.

The loss of their leader broke whatever fight the raiders had left in them, and they rapidly started falling back in the direction of the cave opening in the rear of the camp. Only a handful were left standing, however, and as they approached the cave, suddenly the entrance vanished! With only a bare hillside before them, and surrounded by enemies, the remaining raiders quickly surrendered.

“You guys are a little slow on the uptake,” Benzan said to one of them, as he kicked the man’s cutlass out of reach and ordered him to sit down on the sand. The others of the Raindancer crew took custody of the prisoners, and checked to see if any of the other raiders still lived, while the companions surveyed the scene of destruction around them.

The camp was theirs.

 

[MasterOfHeaven]

Man, the crewmembers numbers seem to be rapidly diminishing. Good job as usual.

 

[Reg Dword]

Yeah the crew of the Raindancer seem to die at a greater frequency than the crew members of the Enterprise. You could always count on the crewman in the red shirt to die.

I am a long time skulker to this thread and just wanted to add my adulation of your story telling skills. Keep up the good work!

 

[Lazybones]

Reg Dword, glad to have you on board! Yeah, for some reason those hapless commoner sailors just bring out my bloodthirsty streak. You haven't seen the half of it yet, though...

Anyway, it's been busier in the office today, but I'm still ahead in the story, so another double-post day. Time for the usual post-battle wrap-up, with a few interesting developments .

And in part 6 we'll see another development in the ongoing Dana-Delem-Benzan triangle, so stay tuned tomorrow morning (PST) for another update!

* * * * *

Book III, Part 5

A quick search of the camp turned up captives in several of the huts, huddled men, women, and children that resembled the boatmen in appearance. There were fifteen of them in all, haggard and beaten down by their obviously harsh treatment at the hands of the raiders. They looked up with despair as the companions entered their huts, disconsolate at whatever fate awaited them, but some glimmer of hope returned to their faces as Lok sundered their chains and released them.

There was a momentary danger of violence, as several of the former captives headed for the circle of captive raiders, murder writ clearly in their angry expressions. The companions quickly stepped in to forestall them, however, and while neither side could communicate with the other, Cal was able to get a general message across via gestures and pantomime. The islanders indicated that they’d been taken in the areas around their villages, a few days’ journey to the east. They seemed eager to depart for their homes, so after conferring with Horath the companions agreed to let the freed slaves take two of the outriggers, after scrounging up some supplies and weapons for them out of the captured stores of the raiders. They remained in the camp, under watch, for that night, and departed to the southeast with the first light of the sun upon the waves.

The question of the raider captives was a more pressing problem. In all, they’d taken nine prisoners, including several critically injured warriors that had been stabilized by the clerics once their own wounded were seen to. Evidence of the crimes perpetrated by these men was all around them, but especially in the faces of their victims. Benzan commented that it might have been better if they’d let them all die in the battle, but none of them, even the tiefling, felt particularly good about the suggestion to kill them all now, in cold blood. Ultimately they reached a consensus that they would hold them as captives in one of the huts, under guard, until they were ready to leave. Then they would let them go, after taking all of the available weapons and the last outrigger with them.

“They’ll have a better chance than those people they captured had,” Benzan said, once the decision had been made.

In one of the other huts they found tools, buckets of tar, rope, and other materials that would be useful in repairing the Raindancer. Lok looked into the cave, and quickly called to the others to join him. There they found a heavy iron chest, cemented to the back wall of the cave and secured with a heavy lock.

“Aha, treasure,” Benzan said, kneeling in front of the chest.

“Careful,” Cal warned. “It might be trapped.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Benzan replied without turning, already checking the edges and seams of the chest, carefully probing here and there without putting his hands directly on it. Finally, he took out a set of small picks and tools from an inner pocket of his shirt, and went to work on the lock itself.

The others watched, Delem augmenting the faint light coming from the cave opening with a few floating fingers of flame. Benzan didn’t really need the light, but continued working the lock, letting out a few impatient sighs as he did so. Finally, after a full minute, he sighed more loudly and stepped back from the chest.

“Trouble?” Cal asked.

“Plan B,” the tiefling replied. He pointed at the lock, and muttered an arcane phrase, completing a spell with a pass of his other hand through the air before him.

A small glob of liquid shot out of the tiefling’s hand, striking the lock with a sizzling sound. The liquid, a potent acid, began eating away at the metal.

“Lok, if you would,” Benzan said, stepping aside to give the genasi room to approach the chest.

Lok hefted his axe, judging the distance and angle before raising the weapon to strike.

“Um, maybe the raider leader has the key,” Delem said, but Lok had already begun his swing.

The axe sundered the weakened metal of the lock, dashing it to the soft sand of the cave floor. The action also, however, caused a small trap door to pop open on the side of the chest, and a tiny—and very angry—snake slithered out and lunged for Benzan.

“$%#@!” cried Benzan, as he leapt back, the snake narrowly missing his ankle by inches. The snake twisted toward Lok, but exploded as two of Delem’s magic missiles slammed into it. They kept their guard up, awaiting another threat from the chest, but the cave remained quiet.

“Don’t say it,” Benzan growled at Cal. The gnome responded only with a raised eyebrow.

The chest was now free to open, but they were cautious nonetheless as Lok lifted the lid slowly with the edge of his axe, the cold of the blade causing frost to gather on the iron. The concern was quickly replaced with eagerness, however, as the light of Delem’s flames glinted off of fat piles of glimmering coins within the chest.

“Oh yeah,” Benzan said, bending to examine the haul.

The chest contained several thousand copper and silver coins, of unfamiliar make, with symbols of animals and crowns, along with strange runes, on their faces. There were also thousands of glittering silvery-green coins fashioned of a metal that was unfamiliar to them, a burlap sack that contained a variety of gemstones and a scroll, and finally, buried under the coins, a sword sheathed in a plain leather scabbard.

“What do we have here?” Benzan said, drawing the sword to reveal a perfectly fashioned blade. Strangely, the weapon seemed to be made of bronze, rather than steel, although it was otherwise well-balanced and sharp.

Cal, who had been examining the scroll, turned his attention to the sword. “Odd, that the pirate leader didn’t claim the weapon for use,” he said. “May I?”

Benzan handed him the sword, but no sooner had he touched the hilt than he drew his hand back, as if scalded.

“What’s wrong?” Benzan asked in alarm.

“It… it felt… I can’t say, except that it was as if I was drained, just touching it. It was like… like when I was brought back from death.” Cal shuddered at the memory. “Keep it away from me.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me,” the tiefling said. He offered it to Lok, but the genasi shook his head. “Very well then, I will take charge of the weapon, for now.”

“Be careful,” Cal said. “I’ve heard of weapons like that… they’re made for a particular type of user, and they can sometimes have their own agenda as well.”

“Bah, it’s just a sword,” the tiefling said. “And anyway, if it didn’t like the raiders, that’s good enough for me.” Hooking the scabbard onto his baldric, he slung the weapon over his shoulder. “All right then, let’s see about bagging up all this loot.”

* * * * *

They encountered no further difficulties with the pirate treasure, so with the coins packed into sacks and carefully stored away on the ship (the gems went into the bag of holding), the companions joined the others in setting up camp for the night. The night was warm, so they spent it out on the beach, resting from the recent battle and enjoying fresh foods from the raiders’ stores. Captain Horath had found a ring on the body of the raider leader, which Cal detected as magical. The elf kept the item, which they quickly confirmed granted the wearer the ability to walk on water. The rest of the pirate gear, including most of their armor and weapons, was unremarkable, even cheap, probably earned in trade for captives taken from the coastal villages. They did examine the chain shirts worn by a few of the pirates, and those were unusual, fashioned of a metal with a light gray-green coloration to it. The metal felt slightly warm to the touch, although it did not radiate an enchantment to Cal’s spell of detection. The companions were already well-equipped, so they distributed the armor among Horath’s sailors, to give them an added measure of protection.

The night passed quickly in tales of bravery and in much-needed rest. Then, in the morning, they went to work.

 

[Horacio]

They won... they have a complete victory...
It seems to easy, I'm wonder what Lazybones has under his sleeve now. Sure it's something unpleasant for the characters.

Go on, lazybones, give us more!

 

[MasterOfHeaven]

I wonder what that sword is, exactly. You know, I hope that prophecy given to them by that fortuneteller is just what they thought it was... bunk. Ah well. Anyway, I'm looking forward to the next update.

 

[Lazybones]

Book III, Part 6

All the next day the raiders’ cove resonated with the sounds of hammers and saws on wood, the busy calls of working men and women, and the lapping of the surf on the beach. The first thing that they did was rig block and tackle to help raise Raindancer higher onto the beach with the coming of the morning tide, using a hurriedly constructed framework of logs to cushion the ship and give them access to the damaged sections of her hull. The ship was no light keelboat, to be lifted easily, but with their combined efforts they were able to work the ship into position and start their repairs.

A brief rain squall blew over the island in the late afternoon, coming and going within an hour and barely interrupting their work. Armed work crews were sent out of the hedge to the nearby jungle, to drag back heavy trunks that others worked to shape into boards to reinforce the damaged section of hull. Others swarmed over the ship, replacing damaged fittings and replacing torn segments of sail. Lok used the tools they’d found in the raider camp as well as some taken from the ship to set up an improvised forge, using the iron cutlasses of the raiders as raw material to fashion new fittings and reinforcing bars for the ship.

The work had only just begun when the day began to wane, and it was clear that they’d be at least a few days longer making their repairs. A detail of crewmembers took the last outrigger out and returned with a load of fish that they roasted in large firepits on the beach, offering them a welcome respite from sea rations and a well-earned reward for a day of hard work.

The companions were spending more time with the crew, and getting to know them better. The sixteen surviving men and women that crewed Raindancer were becoming a closer-knit group, the adversity of being alone in this strange land forging a new bond between them.

One figure detached herself from the gathering along the beach, however, and headed toward the quiet solitude of the mound in the rear of the camp, where the raider watchtower was silhouetted against the setting sun. She walked around behind the mound, where the shadows of the evening had already gathered, and there sat down on a protruding rock, her face bowed low against her chest.

“Why me?” Ruath said softly. “Why has this fate befallen us?”

“Even clerics of the Smiling Lady aren’t immune to the vagaries of fate,” Cal said, as he stepped out from amidst the pylons of the watchtower above and behind her.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t see you up there,” she said.

“People often overlook us short folk, do they not?” Cal said. “I was keeping watch… but also, taking some time to think things out.”

“Oh?” she said, but her expression suggested that she wasn’t interested in a conversation. In fact, she started to turn back toward the main camp.

“Indeed,” Cal said, ignoring the signal and coming down the slope toward her. A patch of dried blood was visible on the stone nearby, a reminder of the previous day’s battle. “Taking some quiet time to think things over is often helpful, but sometimes talking them out can help as well.”

“It’s nothing,” she said defensively.

“It didn’t seem so, a moment ago,” Cal replied. He turned over the small piece of wood he’d been carving, a depiction of a minotaur like the one they’d defeated just a few tendays back on the high seas near Velen.

“Why would you choose to carve such a horrible creature?” Ruath asked him.

“It’s just a wood carving,” Cal told her. “A reminder of a great triumph, I’d say, rather than a token of a terrible danger. A reminder of the virtues wrought from teamwork, for such an adversary could not have been beaten by any one of us alone.”

“But sometimes, struggles must be fought alone,” she said, sitting back down on the stone, and half-turning away from him.

“Yes, but they don’t always have to be. And sometimes, pride can get in the way of trust.”

“You think me prideful?”

“I really don’t know you well enough to judge. And yet, we’ve been companions for some time, now, and it looks as though we will be for some time yet.”

“It is something that cannot be helped,” Ruath said, with a sigh of frustration that betrayed the depth of the feelings inside her.

“Well then, it cannot hurt to talk about it,” Cal replied, sitting down on the rock beside her.

“Has anyone told you that you can be annoying persistent?”

“Really? And here I thought I was just being a friend. You seemed like you needed one, earlier. Of course, I have been known to misread a situation, now and again.”

She looked intently at him, as if trying to find a crack in him that betrayed anything else than an open desire to be helpful. “My mission… the task that the… that High Priestess Beldarin set me to, it was important.”

“Was?”

“It’s failed, now, it seems,” she explained. “Now that we’re here, with no apparent way back to Faerûn in time.”

“For your appointment in Chult,” Cal said.

“Yes. I was sent to meet with some important people from a distant land, on a matter of grave importance for the Western Heartlands… for all of Faerûn, really.”

Cal raised an eyebrow, but he did not pry further, despite his curiosity.

“Ah, well, we take what fate sends our way,” she said, turning to regard him again. “I am… sorry that I wasn’t better able to assuage your curiosity.”

“I’ll be here, if you would like to talk further. Come, let’s rejoin the others,” he added, extending a hand to escort her as he rose.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she ultimately took the proffered hand and walked with him back to their campfires.

* * * * *

Outside of the boundaries of the raider camp, along a nearby stretch of empty beach, Dana Ilgarten walked through the frothing surf as it rose and fell against the sands. She had a lot on her mind, questions both old and new, of old responsibilities and new paths taken. She’d come to grips with the challenges already faced upon that path, with the help of her new friends, but there were always new questions to confront.

She grinned, a wry smile at her own expense. She’d been quite a handful for the monks she’d fostered with back home, headstrong and, by their reckoning, undisciplined. She’d learned a great deal from them, including how to channel her impetuous nature and inner energy, but it was always an imperfect synthesis. She suspected that while the skills she’d learned had served her well on her chosen path, the road of the monk would not be the one that she would follow any longer to new discoveries.

Fortunately, she’d discovered a new path, one better suited to her own… limitations wasn’t the word she wanted to use, inclinations perhaps. Her calling to the goddess awakened something deep within the call of her being, a wondrous connection that didn’t seek to stifle the inner freedom of her soul, but rather set it free to seek out new passageways of the self.

“You shouldn’t be out here, all alone,” a voice called out from behind her.

She spun, wary, and saw that it was Benzan, coming out of the brush that extended back from the beach into the jungle beyond. She looked around and realized that she had gone further than she’d intended, lost in her ruminations, but she would be damned if she was going to admit as much to the tiefling.

“I can take care of myself,” she said instead, “And besides, you are out here all alone too.”

“Captain Horath asked me to scout out the perimeter a bit, make sure that there aren’t any more of those pirates on the island,” he said. “What’s your reason?”

“Fine, let’s go back,” she said, heading for the bright spots of light that marked the fires of their camp.

For a few moments they walked together in silence. “You don’t like me much, do you?” Benzan finally asked.

“You’re a self-absorbed, ill-mannered, stubborn smart ass. What’s not to like?”

“Ah, you forgot my questionable hygiene and dubious parentage,” he said, smiling.

“Who you are—and who you become—isn’t defined by your parents.”

“Now that’s ironic, coming from you, don’t you think?”

He’d clearly struck a nerve, by the anger that flashed momentarily in her eyes, but she turned away and continued stalking toward the camp, walking so quickly that he had to hurry to keep up.

“Look,” she said, keeping her voice level with an obvious effort. “We’re going to be together a while, yet, by the looks of things, so why don’t we just keep things civil between us?”

“What do you think of Delem?”

“What?”

“Delem. He’s a good kid, you know. A little naïve, perhaps.”

“What are you saying?”

“I just wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that… wait, do you hear that?”

She turned and followed his gaze back down the length of the beach away from the camp, then into the hills that rose in the interior of the island.

“What?” she said. But then she could hear what Benzan had sensed, a buzzing sound that seemed to be coming from the dense jungle growth to their left.

“Back to the camp, now!” Benzan yelled, prodding her on, running after her even as he unslung and strung his bow.

The sound grew rapidly louder, and its source was finally revealed as a quartet of giant wasps, each approximately the size of a horse, darted over the jungle canopy and dove for them.