RAMPAGE AT THE WRECK
“Everyone, gather round me,” Mandi ordered as the six companions paused for a moment to regroup behind one of the stilted shanties. She peered out across the cove at the architectural nightmare suspended in the two great trees. Many enemies, including the gigantic retriever, were visible on all the derelict vessels, though most seemed concentrated on the lower wrecks. The uppermost, some hundred feet above the water, had few, if any defenders. To Mandi’s mind that meant they were probably the most heavily defended, and thus might be were Vanthus and Lavinia were to be found.
“We’re going straight to the top,” she announced, explaining her reasoning. The others nodded, and began preparing their defenses, both magical and mundane. When all were ready, they linked hands around the sorceress as she began her spell. An instant later, they vanished.
The nameplate on the ship declared it the Glad, but it remained a ship in name only. It was naught more than a hollow shell, its upper decks stripped bare and its lower ones removed to create a single, large space within. That area was horrifically decorated with large, hanging snake skins, several of which also appeared to have humanoid features like arms or legs. The skins wafted in the wet breeze, layered like curtains so that it was difficult to make out the details of the area beyond. An acrid stink filled the air. The Legionnaires appeared in the sky above the Glad, and the first thing they noticed where the six half-blood yuan-ti who hovered, poised just above the deck. The second thing that caught their attention was another ship, the Baeldictum, connected to the Glad by a pair of narrow rope bridges some sixty-feet long. The deck of that vessel was merely that…a deck. The underlying hull and lower decks were gone, leaving the ship’s rotting and wet ribs hanging down like the dangling legs of some enormous insect. It appeared as if a fight had recently taken place there, as the boards were sticky with dried blood and bits of fetid flesh. A rope bridge hung between the main mast and a circular platform that surrounded the central tree of the structure, and a platform aft of the main deck was supported by a single thick piling and held a ballista, with a barrel of ammunition sitting nearby.
Atop the crow’s walk of the Baeldictum perched a trio of pierced and tattooed harpies…Sisters of Lamentation, while manning the ballista was a female Lemorian, one Bilgerut Nora by name. As soon as the Legionnaires appeared, the Sisters began to sing, their haunting, warbling melodies filling the air. Involuntarily, Octurus paused to listen, the music washing over him like a wave of sorrow. He remembered his tribe and his warrior brothers. Their loss came back to him as a physical blow, and he felt tears begin to trickle down his face.
“Lock it up, boy!” Sepoto snarled, slapping the Maztican roughly between his shoulders as a hail of arrows from the yuan-ti filled the air around them, punctuated by the hum of the ballista below. The company quickly began to disperse, but as they moved, missiles pierced Gregor, ripping through his thigh, and upper arm, while another grazed Octurus’s forehead. Tower Cleaver barely noticed the black-fletched arrow that suddenly sprouted from his shoulder, and Sepoto angrily ripped another from his buttock as it sank home.
“Take cover!” Mandi shouted, as she streaked towards one of the half-bloods, the claws of her demonic form extended. Just as she reached the archer, however, she saw movement from within the ship’s hull below her. A massive shadow detached itself from the darkness there and heaved its bulk into the feeble daylight. Its body was that of a large serpent, though two heavily muscled arms sprouted from its torso, gripping a large falchion in both hands. Where its head should have been, six serpentine necks writhed, each topped by a snake-like head. Mandi had heard rumors of such a creature, but had never seen one in the flesh, nor had she ever hoped to. It was an anathema…a creature that other yuan-ti worshipped as gods!
“Ware!” Mandi cried to her companions, but it was already too late. A black miasma of blasphemous energy rippled out from the anathema, washing over the Legionnaires. The pure evil power of the wave instantly stunned all of the Legionnaires, save Mandi, whose heart was already tainted by the rage that filled it. In a blur of motion, the half-bloods were in flight, closing to her dazed friends as they reeled from the psychic assault. The Legionnaires were sitting ducks. One of the assassins flew close enough to Tower Cleaver for its forked tongue to flicker against the minotaur’s face. Hissing with what sounded like ophidian laughter, the yuan-ti plunged a curved dagger deep into Cleaver’s gut. A second warrior seized Octurus by the neck and jabbed its own blade into the Maztican’s back, angling towards his kidney, while a third used both hands to drive its dagger clean through Gregor’s shoulder. Mandi knew they were all dead if she didn’t do something to neutralize the anathema, and quickly. Focusing her magic, she quickly conjured a wall of pure force across the lower section of the hull, sealing the monstrosity behind it.
Sepoto and Tower Cleaver gave as good as they had recieved once they'd shaken free of effects of the anathema’s blasphemous magic. The yuan-ti were fast, however, and they fought like a well-oiled machine, flanking their opponents and somersaulting through the air as they moved. Blood flowed freely from both friends and foes. Octurus, meanwhile, scrubbed viciously at the tears that continued to flow down his face. He could not block the harpies’ infernal music from his ears, and the flood of memories and emotions overwhelmed him. In anguish, he threw back his head to the sky and began babbling incoherently in his native tongue, calling out to his ancestors for forgiveness. Slowly, but inexorably, a pair of half-blood assassins moved towards him, unseen and unheeded by the Maztican.
Gregor was caught in the middle of the melee, a place he distinctly did not want to be. Bleeding from several minor wounds, he fought his way to the relative safety offered by Cleaver’s whirling axe and Sepoto’s snapping chain. Once buffered from the battle, the druid began to chant, calling out to the elemental spirits to heed him. In a whirling vortex of power, the spirits answered. The vortex grew into a funnel-cloud of hurricane-force wind, from which glowed two malevolent red eyes. The elemental howled in fury at being called from its home plane, and immediately lashed out at the yuan-ti nearest it, buffeting the half-blood with wind gusts that struck like hammers.
Mandi watched with grim amusement as the anathema struck the invisible wall again and again in a vain attempt to break free. But the sorceress underestimated the creature known as the Seventh, the matriarch of the Seventh Coil yuan-ti in Scuttlecove. Grasping a medallion in the shape of a serpent devouring its own tail, the Seventh spoke a word, and a beam of green energy lanced from between her fingers and struck the force wall, disintegrating it in a burst of magical power. When the Kraken’s Society’s outpost had initially been attacked, it had not been the Seventh’s intent to interfere. If the pirates could not defend themselves, then they were of no use to her as allies. However, when the invaders had chosen to bring the fight to her and her children, then all bets were off. She would make them pay for their insolence, and show the pirates how powerful the Seventh Coil really was.
“Cleaver! Do you have this?” Sepoto bellowed over the din of battle.
In answer, the big minotaur swung his axe in a wide arc, devastating two of the half-bloods.
“Good!” Sepoto shouted. “I’m heading for the Sisters! We’ve got to undo whatever they’ve done to Octurus!”
With a loud war cry, the crusader streaked away from the battle and towards the deck of the Baeldictum. Meanwhile, while Cleaver’s attention was momentarily distracted, two of the remaining yuan-ti broke away, flying straight towards an unsuspecting Daelric, who was busy focusing on the horrific sight of the Seventh below him. Roaring in outrage, Cleaver prepared to follow, but Mandi called after him, “Cleaver wait! I need you down here! The anathema is free! It’s like a god to them! If we kill it the others will fall quickly!”
Cleaver looked skeptically up at Daelric.
“Don’t worry!” Gregor shouted. “I’ll send the elemental to aid him!”
Cleaver seemed satisfied with that, and dove for the deck of the wreck below. With a gesture, Gregor commanded the elemental to pursue the yuan-ti. Unfortunately, the assassins were faster, and as Daelric turned towards the hissing behind him, one of them plunged his dagger into the priest’s side, while the other slashed viciously across Daelric’s forehead, slicing away a flap of skin and sending blood gushing into his eyes. An instant later, however, the howling cyclone was upon them, whirling and battering at the snake-men, allowing Daelric a chance to slip back into invisibility.
The Seventh reared, its cruel blade reaching for Mandi, but the nimble sorceress took to the sky, deftly avoiding the strike while at the same time weaving her magic. As the spell washed over her, the Seventh went rigid, confusion in her eyes. Then, slowly, hypnotically, she began to sway and gyrate, looking like a horrific cobra mesmerized by a snake charmer.
“Now! While she’s helpless!” Mandi screamed.
Tower Cleaver roared and charged forward, swinging his axe with abandon. The Seventh hissed and spat as her blood sprayed across the deck, but she never stopped her dance.
Sepoto reached the crow’s walk of the Baeldictum, and the three Sisters perched there turned towards him, the words of their songs suddenly shifting. The crusader felt the power of the melodies wash over him, invoking feelings of grief, fear and horror, yet he steeled his will and pushed ahead, driving the maddening songs from his head. His chain whirled and hummed, slashing the nearest harpy to ribbons in a matter of seconds. Her sisters shrieked and took to the air, heading for the rigging higher up the mast. Sepoto prepared to follow, but a shout from below him caught his attention. The female Lemorian had left her ballista and was winging her way towards him, cursing as she came.
“The gods damn ye, ye great rock-headed lummox! When me man gets through with ye, ye’ll wish yer mam had never spat ye out!”
Sepoto waited calmly until she was just in range, then snapped his chain in her face, opening up a deep gash on her already scarred countenance.
“Seems to me that if your man were truly a man at all, he’d be at your side already,” he quipped. He then turned and took to the air again, pursuing the Sisters as Bilgerut Nora continued to spew epithets after him.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mandi saw one of the yuan-ti preparing to cast a spell.
“Daelric!” she shouted to the invisible priest, who had only just managed to get his hemorrhaging under control. “Stop him!”
Daelric looked around in momentary confusion before he saw the assassin and realized what the snake-man was planning to do. The magic he summoned would conjure a thick mist around the Seventh, hiding her from Cleaver’s view. Quickly, Daelric called on his own magic, and as the last words of the spell left the yuan-ti’s lips, the priest’s counterspell struck, splintering the incantation into harmless shards. Meanwhile, Tower Cleaver was in a blood frenzy. Again and again he chopped and hacked at the anathema, and all the while she screamed and danced, until finally, her performance ended as she toppled like a felled oak to the deck. Not missing a beat, the gore-spattered minotaur let his momentum carry him towards the yuan-ti who had tried to protect the Seventh, his axe wrecking the unfortunate creature before he ever knew what hit him.
Sepoto reached the second of the Sisters, and made as quick and efficient work of her as he had her sibling. The last of the harpies gaped in horror at the killing machine before her. She attempted to flee again, but the goliath wrapped his chain around one of her feet as she rose, and yanked her back. As he snapped the chain free, he coiled it around his fist and promptly crushed the Sister’s skull. At that moment, the flapping of wings caught his attention as Bilgerut Nora rose up behind him again, still cursing.
“Some people just have to learn the hard way,” Sepoto sighed, but before he could move, Octurus came out of nowhere, the harpies’ spell broken. He hit the Lemorian like a dervish, his blades flaying the skin from the demon-spawn as she spun awkwardly towards the ground one-hundred feet below.
Gregor grinned savagely as his elemental minion hurled the broken body of one of the yuan-ti out over the cove, and then proceeded to focus its raw power on another. His smile quickly faded however, as a scaly hand seized him from behind. His head was wrenched violently to one side and then blinding pain flared from the left side of his head as a dagger was driven into his ear. His concentration broken, the elemental roared a final time before vanishing back to its own realm. As he struggled to free himself from his assailant, he heard Tower Cleaver’s distinctive cry.
“I kill your God!” the minotaur bellowed. “Now I kill you too!”
Gregor’s attacker was suddenly and violently wrenched off of him as the barbarian pulled its arm from its socket and hurled it to the deck below. Then, with a savage chop, Cleaver’s axe bisected the skull of the last remaining yuan-ti.
Sepoto watched the last assassin drop with the same touch of amazement he always felt when watching Tower Cleaver “work.” He turned his eyes to the wrecks below, where he saw the bulk of the pirates swarming up rat lines, heading their way. The retriever was not far behind. It seemed their respite was destined to be brief. As he turned back to warn his comrades, he caught a flicker of movement from behind the huge trunk of the tree which pierced the hull of another ship some forty feet below…the Two-faced Wretch. The deck of the vessel was cluttered with coils of rope, crates and other nautical supplies. A horrendous figurehead of a demonic, two-faced abomination hung from the bow, which had been extended into a square platform that provided an unobstructed view of the surrounding saltmarsh. The main hatch stood open, and it was from the hold that Sepoto guessed the furtive figure had come, doubtless attempting to escape while he could.
“Not so fast, matey,” the goliath mumbled as he dropped the intervening distance rapidly, landing deftly beside the hatch.
“Show yourself,” he commanded, “and you may yet live!”
“Oh, I’ll show myself,” the non-descript pirate who emerged from behind the tree chuckled, “but I most certainly will not grant you the same mercy that you deign to show me!”
As the man stepped forward, his features began to melt and flow, morphing into a horrific serpentine creature that shared two humanoid torsos atop a single, coiling body. Each torso waved a set of six humanoid arms, all clutching cruel scimitars. The monster’s two baboon-like heads glowered menacingly, their eyes beady and bright with hate.
“Oh, and I’d like you to meet an associate of mine,” the demon known as Ziovayne gurgled. “Vzorthys! Come greet our guest!”
Sepoto whirled as he sensed movement behind him. Rising from the hatch was a fifteen-foot diameter sphere of cartilage and leathery flesh. One large eye glared from its center above a mouth filled with shark-like teeth. Above the eye writhed two long eyestalks, while below the eye dangled a pair of long, powerful arms tipped with crab-like claws. Sepoto swallowed, and shouted out through the mental link he shared with his comrades…
“…Get down here! Now!”
The force of the goliath’s thoughts caused all of the Legionnaires to involuntarily clutch their heads. Mandi peered over the edge of the Glad’s railing and saw Sepoto’s situation.
“We’re not done yet,” she said. “Cleaver, Gregor, get moving. Daelric, hang back. Octurus, you’re with me.”
The druid and the minotaur took flight, diving towards the Two-faced Wretch, but as they drew near the deck, Vzorthys turned towards them, his central eye flashing with baleful light. Gregor cried out as the sudden burst blinded him and sent him tumbling in a daze. He landed hard on the deck, and lay there, stunned. Cleaver managed to avert his gaze at the last instant, but when he turned back, a thin, blue beam of light lanced from one of the eye stalks of the creature, and when it struck his left arm, it encased the appendage in ice. The barbarian looked at his frozen arm and snarled, his rage deepening. He landed on the boards like a battering ram, and hacked deep into the chitonous hide of Vzorthys. The eye-of-the-deep shrieked and floated away, but as Cleaver moved to follow, a third figure rose from the hold. It was another Lemorian, but different from the others they’d faced. Barrel-chested and ruddy-skinned, his demonic features accentuated his handsome appearance with a cruel edge. He wore polished leathers, and carried a single-edged blue-steel blade in one hand, and a white-bladed dagger in the other.
“I be Cold Captain Wyther!” he bellowed as Cleaver stopped short. “This be my ship yer trespassin’ on, and th’penalty fer that is death!”
Tower Cleaver and the Lemorian faced each other for several long, silent seconds. Finally, the snarling minotaur took a step forward, breaking the stand-off, but at the same moment, Wyther stepped back and Vzorthys darted in front of him. Furious, Cleaver struck at the abomination again, but Vzorthys retaliated with another freezing eye beam, sending numbing cold down the minotaur’s leg.
At the same instant, Ziovayne lunged towards Sepoto, all twelve of his blades whirling like hornet’s nest. Sepoto turned to meet the attack, his chain parrying and snapping with dizzying speed, but the demon was just too fast. One of his blades stabbed forward, running completely through the goliath’s left shoulder, instantly leaving his arm numb. As he was forced back, step by step, he suddenly found himself abutting Vzorthys. Instinctively, he struck out, his chain ripping through the creature’s hide. Vzorthys stuck as well, his claws seizing Sepoto by both arms and lifting him into the air. The eye-of-the-deep opened hiss jaws wide, drawing the goliath’s head towards the gnashing teeth. Suddenly, all three of his eyes went wide before he dropped like a lead weight to the deck and rolled on his side, Tower Cleaver’s axe protruding from his back. Quickly, Sepoto turned back to Ziovayne, fully expecting the demon’s blades to carve him to pieces. He was thus amazed to see the fiend pounding furiously with his swords at what appeared to be thin air. When the crusader realized he could no longer hear the demon’s roars, he knew what had happened…Mandi.
“Thank me later!” the sorceress snapped. “For now, kill the Lemorian!”
Sepoto quickly looked around for the Captain, only to find him silently stalking towards the still-dazed form of Gregor, murder in his eyes. With a cry, the crusader snapped his chain towards the pirate’s legs, but with an agility that defied belief, Wyther spun on his heel and caught the chain on both blades, coiling it around them. With a furious tug, he pulled Sepoto from his feet, driving the wind from the goliath’s lungs as he struck the deck. Wyther then freed his blades and turned back towards Gregor.
Unseen during the melee, Octurus emerged silently from behind the ship’s mainmast. So intent was Wyther on the druid, that he never saw the Maztican coming. When Octurus leaped towards the pirate, two of his tattoos, one of a raptor and the other of an ape, roared to frightening life. Jumping like the dinosaur totem he wore, Octurus planted both feet into Wyther’s back, while at the same time crossing his scimitars in an X before slashing them across the Lemorian’s back, almost severing the pirate’s bat-like wings. With a cry of pain and fury, Wyther spun, and drove the hilt of his sword into the Maztican’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the deck. He raised both blades, preparing to impale them into the demon hunter’s chest, when the huge bulk of Tower Cleaver rose up before him.
“I kill gods!” the minotaur growled. “Puny demons no challenge!”
Two strokes later, Cold Captain Wyther’s head rolled across the deck of the Two-faced Wretch to come to a rest against the figurehead.
“Now call ship, Three-faced wretch,” Cleave snorted.
“Don’t congratulate yourselves yet,” Mandi called. “It seems our demon friend has managed to escape, but he didn’t count on my interdiction. You’ve got about twenty seconds to prepare yourselves.”
The others looked, and sure enough, Ziovayne had vanished. Octurus jumped to his feet, waving his blades at his comrades.
“Stay back!” he shouted. “The demon is mine! The Whirling Fury demands his blood!”
Sepoto and Cleaver were so taken-aback by the Maztican’s tone, that they hesitated involuntarily. In that instant, Ziovayne reappeared, rearing up directly behind Octurus, all twelve blades poised to strike. In what almost seemed like slow motion, Octurus turned, teeth bared, spittle flying from his mouth. He leaped directly into the whirlwind of steel, yet no blade touched his flesh. Instead, his own swords hacked several fingers from Ziovayne’s hands, the momentum of his attack driving the demon back. As the fiend pulled away, Octurus landed upon his chest, and with two, lightning-swift cuts, slashed both the demon’s throats. Ziovayne collapsed to the deck, his black blood pooling around him.
The Legionnaires stood, chests heaving with the force of their exertions. Slowly, Gregor pulled himself to his feet. All of their enemies lay dead at their feet…or so it seemed.
“Um…guys,” Daelric called, unseen in their midst. “I think we’ve got company.”
When the companions looked about, they saw some two-dozen pirates, including a quartet of Lemorians, swarming over the rails of the Wretch. Then, looming above them all, came the monstrous bulk of the retriever…
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
