Company of the Red Kestrel (1/8/2004 - Confrontations)

[Joshua Randall]

Ah, like water to a parched plant is a response to a Story Hour author.

Your intention to shamelessly copy me deserves an update, Nail. And you shall have one... soon. That I promise.

 

[Nail]

Ah, like water to a parched plant is a response to a Story Hour author.

Your intention to shamelessly copy me deserves an update, Nail. And you shall have one... soon. That I promise.

Excellent.

As a storyhour author myself, I've even stooped to emailing my players and asking them to post to the story hour.

Heh.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Brogun’s head hurt.

He had been discussing tactics with Dellarocca for going on six hours, and the wizard showed no signs of letting up. As a follower of Kirabá, Brogun could appreciate planning as much as the next dwarf. But he also knew that in the chaos of battle, many plans would be cast aside for expediency’s sake.

“Aaach! Enough!” the dwarf finally said. “I seek my rest now.”

Dellarocca looked up from his crude map of the lair. “Yes, I suppose it does grow late. We shall continue tomorrow.”

And where will that get us? wondered Brogun. He itched for the certainty of combat rather than the vagueness of planning.

Everyone wanted something. Dellarocca wanted revenge upon the ciquali who had imprisoned him. Baron da Silva wanted information on the lair so that his soldiers could invade it. The crocaryx wanted their home back. Sara… well, who knew what she wanted; she was so quiet.

Brogun just wanted to fight.

= = =

Brilliant yellow electricity lanced down the corridor, illuminating the perfectly tiled walls and leaving darkness in its wake. The ciquali guard column lacked the time even to scream before they incinerated where they stood. And then Dellarocca was upon them, kneeling before those still twitching, his dagger slashing across their throats.

Brogun turned his head aside. So far, this second incursion into the lair had been nothing more than slaughter. The combined magical power of two clerics and a wizard had overwhelmed all those ciquali they had seen. Dellarocca held nothing back. “Overwhelming force is the best application of magic,” he had declared, and then proceeded to demonstrate the truth of that axiom.

The wizard looked up from his grisly work. “Sara! How close are we to Fulmine?”

Sara closed her eyes, concentrating. “Two hundred forty-seven feet, just east of south,” she intoned, like one in a trance.

Dellarocca nodded, stood, and hurried down the passageway. “Is your brother always this… focused?” Brogun asked. Sara nodded solemnly. “Always,” she said hoarsely.

The group neared a bend in the passage, where it turned west, towards the large room in which Dellarocca and the other slaves had been imprisoned. The sounds of metal on stone once again echoed through the passageway. Had the ciquali taken more slaves to continue their work?

Brogun crept closer to get a better look. This time, it was the ciquali themselves chiseling away the rough stone of the room, smoothing out the balustrade around the stairway that led down into the flooded lower level. Brogun noted with alarm that the work was almost finished. He thought – no, somehow he knew – that when the ciquali finished their construction on the fortress, they would strike.

“Let us attack these sea-devils, taking them unawares” Brogun whispered to the others.

“Not yet!” hissed Dellarocca. “Fulmine first.”

Sara closed her eyes again. “Forty-three feet, almost due east.”

Brogun pulled out the map given to him by the crocaryx. According to the map, there was a storage room just east of their position.

A quick search through the stores turned up no sign of Fulmine. “Still six feet away,” Sara announced, before her brother could pester her.

“Six feet away? That’s outside the room,” Brogun remarked. “There must be a hidden door… right… about… here!”

The burst of flames blew Brogun off his feet and deposited him in the opposite corner of the room, where he lay moaning in pain. Sara rushed to his side while Dellarocca leapt to the door and hurriedly scanned for magic.

After some patching up, Brogun clambered to his feet and approached the secret door again, this time more warily. He reached out to touch it, then jerked his hand back.

Dellarocca chuckled. “There are no additional magical energies. It’s safe, now.”

Muttering under his breath, Brogun ran his hands over the stonework of the door. Crudely made, even by surface-dweller standards. Although the ciquali didn’t really live on the surface, did they? He wasn’t used to thinking about creatures that lived under the ocean. Then again, Dellarocca had said the ciquali weren’t native to the ocean, either, but to the swamps around the Danarg.

Either way, their stonework was shoddy. Brogun had the door open inside of a minute.

“What the –“ he spluttered as Dellarocca shouldered his way into the small room beyond.

Only a little light filtered into the hidden room, but it was enough to show a variety of items. Heaped in one corner were two suits of armor, one chain, the other ornately worked plate. An enormous sword was propped against the wall, towering over a finely wrought warhammer. Next to these sat a plain wooden chest, sealed with an outsized iron lock. Finally, in the corner nearest the door, a perfectly round, shiny shield lay flat on the ground with a scabbarded blade just behind it.

Dellarocca was already reaching for this last item when Brogun found his wits long enough to issue a warning. “Careful! There could be more traps.”

The wizard’s hand closed around the pommel of the sword.

 

[Joshua Randall]

The sword Fulmine was forged by the Dwarven master smith Zaccarias Zabar in MS 5048 for the wizard Michael Dellarocca, leader of the Company of the Red Kestrel. Dellarocca, a specialist in electrical evocations, requested a weapon that would mirror his arcane predilections.

Fulmine is a finely wrought rapier, exquisitely balanced, crafted of the best Durenese steel. Its back edge is gilded, both for visual effect and as a strong conductor. The blade is enhanced with magical energies that improve its wielder’s accuracy and cutting power, and the whole weapon crackles with electricity when drawn. Upon an especially effective hit, an extra burst of electricity flows along the blade, inflicting additional damage upon its target.

= = =

This was the weapon Dellarocca had been so intent upon finding. Fulmine, along the rest of the Company’s equipment, had lain undisturbed in the ciquali treasure vault until such time as the creatures could wrest their secrets from the uncooperative wizard.

Naturally they had not counted on said wizard being rescued and returning to claim his gear with vengeance in mind.

Brogun’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the room. He was no smith, but any dwarf could tell these items were masterfully crafted at the least, and probably magical.

Dellarocca was lost in thought as he stroked the edge of Fulmine with an almost sensuous touch. The wizard absentmindedly cast a minor spell that unlocked the wooden chest, then used another spell to open its lid. Inside rested a thick tome, bound in expensive-looking leather. Sighing contentedly, Dellarocca carefully took up his spellbook and began leafing through it.

Sara moved among the remaining items and weaponry sadly. “Come here, Brogun,” she stated. He complied, eager to see what she intended.

“This was Kednor’s armor,” Sara said, pointing at the ornately wrought plate mail. “He will not be needing it any longer,” the priestess of Ishir continued softly.

“Ach, ‘tis a pity what happened to your companions,” Brogun began, “but it would be foolish to let their equipment go unused. Armor was meant for battle, after all. It will be an honor for me to avenge Kednor’s death while wearing this.”

Sara nodded. “May it protect you better than it did him,” she whispered. She also pressed Kednor’s large warhammer upon Brogun, although he insisted that he would prefer to use his trusty waraxe.

= = =

The three adventurers spent some time re-equipping themselves. Sara took up her Shield of Ishir; its highly reflective surface would deflect the blows of enemies away from its bearer. Dellarocca wore two rings upon either hand: the first was his trusty Ring of Protection; the second had been Leta’s Ring of Stealth. “I’m not sure of its exact function,” Dellarocca admitted, “but we may have need of it nonetheless.” The wizard also outfitted himself with a pair of copper bracelets, each carved with arcane symbols.

Those items that were of no immediate use to any of the Company, such as Gunther’s enormous sword, were distributed throughout the party’s packs.

Dellarocca then spent half an hour preparing spells, turning the pages of his spellbook with barely concealed glee. Sara meditated, while Brogun clanked about the room happily in his new – that is, Kednor’s old – armor.

When the three had properly prepared themselves, Dellarocca led the way back to the nearby stair-room, where the ciquali worked away, oblivious to the approaching adventurers.

The mage drew Fulmine in his right hand and glanced behind him, a murderous glint in his eyes [*]. “Leave no survivors,” he growled as his left hand twisted through the motions of a spell. Moments later, an electrically substituted fireball blossomed in the center of the room.

Brogun swung his axe about his head and charged.




[*] Image the look on Anakin Skywalker's face right before he slaughters the Sand People and you have Dellarocca's expression to a T.

 

[Nail]

Originally posted by Joshua Randall [*] Image the look on Anakin Skywalker's face right before he slaughters the Sand People and you have Dellarocca's expression to a T.

Excellent.

<insert toothy grin>


(I take it that raise dead and the like are not viable options...because they are missing the bodies?)

 

[Joshua Randall]

(I take it that raise dead and the like are not viable options...because they are missing the bodies?)

Well, they are missing the bodies for now.... (cue ominous music)

I'll try to stay on a roll here and post another update later today. By looking at the views I can tell that Nail and my other six readers must be waiting with baited breath.

 

[Nail]

I'll try to stay on a roll here and post another update later today. By looking at the views I can tell that Nail and my other six readers must be waiting with baited breath.

<insert story hour author comiseration comment here>

....and anyway, I look at it this way: We're keeping all of PC's fans happy while they wait for an update from him!

 

[Joshua Randall]

Brogun picked through the aftermath of the battle against the ciquali. Only the two ciquali farthest from the entrance had survived Dellarocca’s magical assault, and they fell quickly under Brogun’s axe. Now, he was regretting that he hadn’t left one of them alive to answer questions.

But he had prepared a speak with dead spell for just such a contingency, so Brogun knelt beside the corpse of a fallen ciquali.

“How many ciquali warriors inhabit this place?” Brogun asked.

The corpse’s mouth moved in a grotesque imitation of speech. “Two… hundred….” came the reply.

Brogun frowned in dismay, then asked, “Do any of the ciquali use magic?”

“Yes,” responded the corpse.

Brogun frowned again. Should’ve asked something more specific, he thought to himself. Ah well.

Looking around, he noticed that Dellarocca was not present. “Where’s your brother?” Brogun inquired of Sara.

“He has gone to retrieve the rest of the small army we travel with,” she replied.

Ah yes. Baron da Silva had insisted that a small unit of his men accompany the Kestrels on their reconnaissance-in-force, and a group of crocaryx had joined as well. At the last moment, an Herbalish scout named Kell had arrived in Lof and attached himself to the motley crew.

In order to keep the adventuring group down to a manageable size, and to prevent the reconnaissance from turning into an invasion, Brogun had talked sergeant Tomás into holding his men back from the initial foray. The precepts of Kirabá applied: The timely arrival of reinforcements will win the battle. Brogun had also used his clout with the crocaryx to convince them to remain hidden until the ciquali disposition was determined.

As for Kell – Brogun knew next to nothing about him. He claimed to hail from Bautar, along the Tentarias far to the south. He said that his Order had commanded him to journey to Lof, there to confront a great evil. Brogun had ordered Kell to remain with the reinforcements, and was surprised when the Herbalish assented. There’s something strange about such passivity, Brogun had decided.

Now the whole assemblage came noisily down the hall and entered the stair room: Tomás and his five men, including Guillermo; six crocaryx led by one slightly larger (they had given names, but Brogun could not tell them apart); and Kell, slouching along at the back of the column, carrying an unstrung bow.

Everyone wanted to descend into the waiting darkness of the flooded levels. But that would tax the Kestrels’ magical resources to their limit, so Brogun imposed his will again with another plan: he, Dellarocca, and Sara would use magical aid to survive underwater. They would be accompanied by the crocaryx, who were naturally amphibious. Tomás, his men, and Kell would remain in the stair room to secure the group’s retreat. If any ciquali showed up, they must be dealt with quickly and permanently, lest a general alarm be raised throughout the complex.

This plan established, Brogun, Dellarocca, and Sara returned to the hidden treasure room for a night’s sleep. (During the night, four ciquali guards entered the stair room from below, where they were swiftly cut to ribbons.) Upon waking, the Kestrels prepared spells in consultation to afford them the best mix of offensive and defensive capabilities. Sara passed out potions of water breathing, and Dellarocca placed a spell of darkvision upon himself and his sister. Brogun contributed endure elements, for without such protection, they would not survive long in the frigid water.

It was now time to descend, and Brogun eyed the murky water with trepidation. What if the ciquali had superior darkvision and could see the adventurers approaching? What if they were struck with dispel magic? How accurate was the crocaryx map, and what modifications had been made to the fortress?

He had no answers. Now it was time to trust to luck. Involuntarily holding his breath, Brogun stepped into the water. He rolled his eyes and told himself to relax and breathe. The cold water felt strange in his lungs, and Brogun had to suppress his gag reflex at first. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Brogun could see that the group had descended into an entry chamber, with passages leading off to the west, north, and east.

The group quickly developed a plan: the crocaryx would scout ahead in a direction indicated by Brogun, who would consult the map of the old fortress to get a general sense of where they were headed. Their goal was to scout things out at thoroughly as possible while at the same time remaining undetected.

For a while, this plan worked perfectly. The group managed to navigate unseen into the northeast corner of the complex, where according to Brogun’s map, another set of stairs would lead to the bottom level. Descending, they came upon a large troupe of ciquali forming up to go on patrol.

Dellarocca obliterated the ciquali with an expertly placed electrically substituted fireball.

Continuing onwards, the group found a crossroads of sorts. From the north came hideous screams, amplified by the water. Thinking quickly, Brogun led the way south, noting a slight downward slope in the passage. It ended at a set of double doors; beyond, he could make out faint grunts and muffled cheering. Baffled, Brogun edged open on of the doors and looked upon a strange scene.

In the center of what could only be an enormous arena, two ciquali warriors tore and bit at each other, their blood billowing in the water around them. Around the arena, row upon row of stone benches stretched away towards the ceiling, many of them occupied: Brogun counted over fifty ciquali scattered throughout the stands.

He closed the door and started an urgent whispered conversation. Dellarocca wanted to barge into the arena, reasoning that the ciquali would be caught off guard and make easy prey. Sara advised finding a way to seal off the area, and revealed that her brother was carrying a scroll of wall of stone. Brogun favored Sara’s plan, but after speaking with the crocaryx and looking at his map, decided that it was unfeasible because there were at least two other entrances to the arena. In the end, the group decided to avoid this area, over Dellarocca’s strenuous objections.

There was but one thing left to do: explore the northern hallway, from which the hideous screams were heard. Brogun gripped the haft of his axe and crept northwards as quietly as possible. He could begin to make out a wide but narrow room with a series of barred doors along the far wall. The screams were coming from the left. Motioning to his companions, Brogun burst around the corner, axe at the ready.

 

[Joshua Randall]

The ciquali chuckled evilly as they scraped the serrated blade along their captive’s arms. He screamed, a bubbling sound in the water, and thrashed around, but he was securely chained down.

One ciquali turned to the other, a suggestion for new and interesting ways of inflicting pain upon his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something whooshing through the water towards him. Something that showed grey and cold to his darkvision.

Odd, thought the ciquali, we should be –

Brogun’s axe split the ciquali’s skull in twain. A burst of deep red blood billowed into the surrounding water. The other ciquali stepped back, emitting a choked cry. Brogun swept his axe into the creature’s torso just as Dellarocca pierced it in the small of its back. Soundlessly, the ciquali drifted away, spinning an erratic course through the water, given momentum by the force of the blows.

= = =

The Kestrels freed the torture victim, and thanks to Sara’s knowledge of the language of aquatic creatures [1], learned that he was a locathah named Borghas. Borghas had been on a hunting expedition when he ran into a ciquali patrol. He was captured, separated from his giant eel mount, and intermittently tortured between stays in one of the nearby cells.

After he was freed, Borghas rushed to the cell into which his giant eel had been forced. It was too late; the creature was dead, its bloated and distended body hanging limply in the fouled water. The locathah swore a vow of vengeance upon the ciquali, which earned him a clap on the shoulder from Dellarocca.

Meanwhile, Brogun and Sara had opened another cell and discovered another captive: Kysh, a triton. He told a similar tale of capture and torture, but after retrieving his sea lion mount from one of the cells, Kysh sped off into the gloom.

“Just don’t give away our position!” Brogun yelled after the fleeing triton.

The group rested for a bit, then set off to the south, skirting the strange arena in the center of the complex. Around yet another corner, Brogun spied an apparent guardroom. Two ciquali were lounging on a bench, cleaning their weapons, while a third stood near a lowered portcullis.

Uttering a prayer to Kirabá, Brogun charged.[2]

About ten seconds later, he wished he hadn’t.

The ciquali guard at the portcullis swiveled and smashed his trident into an alarm gong, its sonorous BONG seeming especially loud in the water. From a barracks in a corridor to the north that the Kestrels hadn’t yet explored, a dozen ciquali issued forth, engaging the crocaryx (and Borghas) in a furious scrum. Meanwhile, from the enormous sea-cave further to the south – the very one into which Dellarocca had made his ill-fated entrance – nearly a hundred ciquali heard the alarm and swam into action.

Things were spiraling out of control. All the careful planning that had gone into the reconnaissance mission was undone in an instant of foolishness.

The same ciquali who had rung the alarm next tried to winch up the portcullis. Brogun saw this and quickly summoned an octopus, which engulfed the ciquali’s head in its tentacles.

The two other guards turned to meet the intruders.

Dellarocca hasted himself and shot forward, Fulmine glittering at his side.

Sara bolstered her brother with shield other and moved to the center of the guardroom, keeping an eye on the fighting.

A huge mass of ciquali appeared outside the still-lowered portcullis and began battering it down. Brogun and Dellarocca cut up the remaining guards, then moved to hold back the horde. It was no use. The portcullis gave way, and dozens of angry ciquali poured into the room, making good use of their superior swimming skills to surround Brogun and Dellarocca.

Sara wept, her tears lost in the seawater. It was going to happen again! She laid about her clumsily with her mace, trying to reach her brother’s side. Her off hand drifted unconsciously towards her word of recall-imbued holy symbol.

Dellarocca was a blur of activity. With each thrust of Fulmine he slew a ciquali, striking twice as quickly as they could react. Brogun was holding his own, his axe sweeping slowly back and forth in the increasingly bloody water.

But there were just too many ciquali to handle. It was obvious that the adventurers would have to retreat. The three heroes found themselves bunched together in the center of the room, completely surrounded by ciquali. Though the creatures stabbed repeatedly at the Kestrels, for the most part they could not penetrate layers of armor and magical abjurations.[3] Still, they could bear their targets down with weight of numbers.

“We must get to the entrance whence we came,” Brogun shouted unnecessarily.

Sara, sobbing with fear, was desperate. She lowered her shoulder and plowed into the nearest ciquali. In that moment, the weight of her armor ceased to lay upon her, and she shoved the surprised creature aside.[4] “Quickly!” she yelled. Brogun and Dellarocca slipped through the gap moments before it was filled and raced to the exit.

Dellarocca lingered there long enough to unfurl a scroll and hurriedly read its contents. A wall of stone sprang into existence directly in front of him, sealing off the guard room. “Let’s see them batter that down,” the wizard sneered.

Up ahead, Brogun stared in alarm. Four crocaryx were dead, their bodies floating here and there, while those remaining fought on tenaciously against the nine remaining ciquali. As Brogun watched, Borghas the locathah tried to grapple a foe and was spitted on the end of a trident for his trouble.

Unsure of what to do, Brogun felt himself shoved aside. Disoriented, the dwarf saw that Dellarocca had pushed to the front of the hallway, where he unleashed a lightning bolt into the melee. Ciquli and crocaryx alike were instantly slain.

“By Kirabá’s beard! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brogun roared.

“Silence!” Dellarocca snapped. “Make for the stairs or we’re all dead.”

Wordlessly, Brogun and Sara followed the mage as he sped off.

= = =

Kell was bored. He’d been pacing back and forth so much that Tomás finally ordered him either to sit down or to get out. Kell shrugged and stalked off.

He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of his jerkin and smoothed it with the edge of his hand. It was the map of this level of the fortress – Brogun had said he wouldn’t need it on his foray into the water-filled parts.

Kell studied the map, his eyes darting back and forth, picking out those areas where the dwarf’s comically large printing had updated the map. “GUARD POST,” read one entry. “PRISON. SECRET TREASURE ROOM.”

The scout smiled to himself. The left-hand portion of the map was completely free of annotations, indicating the Brogun hadn’t been there. Well, if there was something new to see, Kell was going to see it. He sauntered through the empty stone corridors, relieved that for once he didn’t have to go stealthily.

Locating the right area, Kell shoved the map back into his jerkin and headed for the nearest door. Probably just another store-room. He nonchalantly pushed it open.

The room beyond was cold, even in contrast to the already cold fortress. Scattered about the floor were a great number of bones, their surfaces scraped smooth. Judging by their whiteness, these bones must be rather… fresh. As his eyes strained to pierce the shadows at the back of the room, Kell made out a form of some sort. Advancing cautiously, he began to make out its features.

The body was slumped against the wall, naked, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. In life the man must’ve been huge, well over six-and-a-half feet tall, but now it appeared strangely shrunken. Squinting, Kell saw some weird markings on the corpse’s torso. When he realized what they were, he turned away and retched, bracing his hand against the wall, muscles quivering.

Just as a butcher marks out a side of beef for various cuts of meat, so too had the ciquali marked the body of Gunther, former member of the Company of the Red Kestrel.




[1] Sara worships Ishir, the Goddess of the Moon, and (in my version of Magnamund) the Sea. As such, it was in-character for Sara to learn the aquatic language.

[2] I have no idea why Brogun’s player decided to charge the ciquali guards when he had been successfully sneaky so far. Perhaps he was bored.

[3] This fight illustrated why it’s a bad idea to use hoards of weak monsters against higher-level PCs. The ciquali could only hit on an 18, 19, or 20, so they presented no real danger to the adventurers. By contrast, the adventurers’ only concern was avoiding being grappled.

[4] Sara, Str 8, successfully bullrushed a ciquali, Str 14. It was an inspiring moment that probably saved the Kestrels’ collective butts.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Brogun’s lungs ached as he hustled through the murky, water-filled corridors of the ciquali lair. He had seen no sign of pursuit for several minutes. Was that a hopeful sign? Brogun wasn’t sure. He had bought himself and his companions additional time by using stone shape to close off a key doorway after passing through it. But there was more than one way to the upper level of the fortress, and the ciquali could take alternate routes.

At last, up ahead, he began to make out a faint light that dimly illuminated the staircase to the uppermost, dry level of the fortress. With the Dellaroccas at his side, Brogun staggered his way up the stairs, bursting from the water and feeling once again the comfort of air upon his face.

As Brogun stood there, blinking water out of his eyes, he heard the unmistakable TWANG of crossbows being discharged. The ciquali must be assaulting Tomás and his men, he thought, moments before two bolts slammed into his armor.

Brogun’s vision cleared, and he could make out Tomás and the other men of Lof deliberately reloading their crossbows and taking aim. The dwarf stood there, dumbfounded, as another two bolts struck the armor above his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dellarocca spin out of the way of the shots aimed at him, while to his left, Sara had raised her shield in front of her face.

He stumbled forward, hefting his axe, but unwilling to strike. Why was this happening? What obscure betrayal would lead the baron’s men to fire upon him? Had he been meant to perish in the waters below?

Just then, Brogun caught a glimpse of the Herbalish scout, Kell, lurking in the entranceway. Brogun watched in horror as Kell fitted an arrow to his bow and took aim. Not him too! Brogun thought, aghast.

Kell loosed his arrow at – who was that? A ciquali – no, two – stood behind the row of Lofian crossbowmen. One was arrayed in typical warrior’s garb, but the other, somewhat smaller, wore a gold-colored circlet around her brow and carried a slender black wand in her hand. It was this priestess at whom Kell directed his shot, aiming for her left eye.

The arrow passed by a few feet to her right.

Lowering his head, Brogun forced his tired legs to carry him past the nearest crossbowman and straight towards the ciquali priestess. She shrieked and stabbed at him with her wand. Where it touched his arm, Brogun felt a momentary chilling numbness, but he shook off the effect and plowed into her. The other ciquali reversed grip on his trident and raised it in both hands before plunging it into Brogun’s back. But his borrowed armor held and the tines of the weapon bent.

Kell dropped his bow, put his hands to his hips, and withdrew a shortsword in each. Darting forward, he struck at the ciquali warrior, slashing him twice. By this time Dellarocca had recovered from his shock and was stabbing at the priestess.

Beset by three determined foes, the two ciquali fell. With their deaths, Tomás and his men seemed to come to their senses and looked dumbly about the room. Apparently, the priestess had placed some spell upon them, compelling them to turn against their friends.

“And where were you when this happened?” Brogun demanded of Kell.

“I was checking out the… pantry,” Kell replied, his face blanching.

= = =

The Kestrels wished to vacate the ciquali fortress as quickly as possible, before their unwilling hosts made it to the surface. Stopping only to gather up the bodies from the “pantry” that Kell had discovered, they beat a hasty retreat to the entrance. Along the way, they battled another large group of ciquali, including a four-armed brute whom they took to be the sea-devils’ leader. But the fierce fighting of the Kestrels and the disciplined archery of Tomás and his men sent the ciquali scurrying for safety under cover of several darkness spells.

Once outside the fortress, the adventurers and soldiers fled down the coast towards Lof, relying on Kell to obscure their trail as best he could behind them. A few days later, the exhausted company reached the gates of the city. Brogun had never been so glad to see the drab, gray walls of Lof as at that moment.

No ciquali pursued them.

“Hah!” Dellarocca snorted. “The way we carved through them, they would be fools to seek out more punishment.”

Sara frowned to herself as she stood up from the remains of Gunther, Kednor, and Leta. “They are beyond my help,” she said sadly. “We shall have to seek one on whom the light of Ishir reflects more strongly.”

= = =

Baron da Silva was overjoyed with the detailed report that Brogun delivered on the layout of the ciquali fortress, as well as the projected makeup of its forces, and suggestions for how to conduct an assault.

“With the information you have provided,” the baron declared, “we shall crush the ciquali. Wipe them out. Let those croco-men back into their home.” He was clearly well pleased with the prospect of the coming battle.

So it was that the Company of the Red Kestrel successfully completed its reconnaissance of the ciquali fortress.