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Message: <blockquote data-quote="NiTessine" data-source="post: 430886" data-attributes="member: 475">Here, the fifth chapter, first installment! And right on time, too! Be warned, though... The story takes a darker turn as the powers of Chaos start to manifest. Reading is not recommended for anyone, especially minors, pregnant women, or others with impressionable minds or weak stomachs.Chapter 5 - Like Rats from a Sinking ShipIt was a painting. A painting of a boy, facing the viewer. Next to the boy, there was a doll of a girl, her empty eyesockets staring at nothingness. The boy's expression was frightening. It was a cold, calculating stare, thoroughly unfit for such a youthful face. Behind the boy and his doll, there was a window, and behind the window was blackness, out of which dozens of small, disembodied hands reached out to them.The adventurers all took an involuntary step backwards, shaken by the sudden sight. After a tense, silent moment, they had all regained their wits and calmed their nerves. Fisibbei was the first one to speak."That painting… it radiates unspeakable evil, and powerful magic.""I can feel it, too, even though I have cast no spells to detect such," replied Khaelas.For a short while, they discussed their next course of action, speaking in hushed tones, and trying to avoid looking at the painting, all the while keeping an eye on it. For all they knew, it could start moving.In the end, they decided to hide the box in another part of the cargo hold. None of them wanted to take the vile portrait to their cabin. With his eyes averted, Frederich carried the large crate into the deepest, shadowy recesses of the room. They did not even attempt to destroy it. Anything that powerful was most likely indestructible by any mundane means, and probably capable of defending itself. The evil painting was left in the darkness, as the heroes made their way back to the upper decks, still pale and nervous of what they had seen.When they ascended the final steps from the hold, they were met with a woman's keening wail. Quick examination revealed its source as Lady Siegfrida von Hedon, crumpled in front of an open doorway to the cabin they knew was occupied by her children, Lisette and young Peter. Fearing the worst, the four adventurers quickened their steps to a run.What was in the room was terrible enough to make even Frederich retch. The walls, the floor, and the bedsheets were covered in blood. White feathers from the torn pillows and eiderdowns were spread about the room, in stark contrast to the bright red liquid. In the carnage, they could see bits and pieces of something that may once have been human. *  *  *The remains had belonged to young Peter, only four years old. Lisette was still alive, fortunately. Lady Siegfrieda was still paralysed by her discovery, and the adventurers were severely shaken, overcome by feelings of guilt, for they had failed to unveil the assassin in time. Lord Henrik von Hedon had not come forth to speak with them, apparently being content with an accusing glare. It was enough, and they all knew it.*  *  *That night, none of them slept well. All four were plagued by horrible nightmares of daemons and undead. Terrible winged fiends hunted them, and rotting cadavers rose from their graves to grasp at their ankles.It was early morning when they started awake in their beds, all at the same time. The ship was still silent. Frederich was wandering towards the poop deck, when he stumbled upon one of the guards in the corridor. Literally. The man's throat had been cut, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Hissing a curse, the massive warrior sprinted back to the cabins, and alerted the others. Kase's first reaction was to shout:"The painting!"A scant few minutes later, they were all in full armour, running to the cargo hold. When they arrived, their fears were confirmed. The crate was empty, the painting was gone.Their search soon took them to the upper deck, to see whether any more lifeboats had disappeared. There, they were quite surprised to see the entire von Hedon family packed into the three lifeboats, beginning to lower them into the water. Father Ulrich was also there, as was Canio, the Tilean jester, and a halfling who was presumably their cook. Khaelas spotted a cloth-covered rectangle that he suspected was the missing painting.When he saw the adventurers approaching, Henrik von Hedon stepped from the boat. The man was tall and thin, and his features were sharply defined, angular. In the hazy light of the early morning, they looked even sharper, caricatured, as if drawn with a ruler. He was dressed in olive green, with a cloak of the blackest silk. No hat or helm adorned his head, the pate crowned only by his hair, raven black and arrow straight. The nobleman looked at them coldly."Turn back," he called. "Do not attempt to interfere, and you might yet live.""You murdered the guards and the crew, didn't you? It was you, all along!" cried out Fisibbei."Yes, as was necessary. Now, go back to your cabins, lest you suffer their fate.""You know we will not do that. Fight or surrender, those are your options," Frederich shouted, raising his axe in challenge."Very well, if that is your wish," the nobleman replied, drawing forth a long rapier. Its sharp blade glinted in the morning sun with a malevolent light, promising death. "Who will be the first one, then?" he asked calmly, as the three lifeboats descended to the ocean behind him.Not uttering a word, Kase drew forth his longsword, hefting it high, and charged Henrik. The thin man's hand flashed into the folds of his cloak, and there was a loud noise, a crack of thunder. As Kase Galanodel slumped down on the deck, bleeding from a wound that pierced his heart, they all saw the weapon. It was a duelling pistol, a finely-crafted firearm from the workshops of Nuln. It was an item of tremendous destructive power and accuracy, as they had seen.But they all also knew that loading it was a long and complicated affair. Cold fire burning in his eyes, Frederich took a step towards the nobleman, who holstered his gun, smirking.At that moment, Khaelas also fell to the deck with a cry of pain. As they turned to look, they saw his thigh had been pierced by two crude javelins. The wounds seeped blood, and the incapacitating pain made the elven sorcerer lose his consciousness.The javelins had been thrown by a pair of troglagobs that stood, with several of their friends, behind them. Their leaders were the same as in the previous attack, a bone-armoured brute, and a smaller, black-clad one. Another troglagob raised a spear for the throw, but was taken down by a long, blue-fletched arrow that suddenly sprouted from his throat."Nobody does this to my ship and lives!" came the cry from the shadows in the ship's foredeck. There stood Ranland, the elven former first mate, current captain of the ship, with a longbow in his hand. He quickly shot another arrow, taking one of the troglagobs in the shoulder, causing it to drop its weapon and cry out in pain. Frederich quickly swung his axe, cleaving the wounded sea goblin's head in twain.Fisibbei turned to face the nobleman as Ranland and Frederich dealt with the goblins. He hefted his sickle, measuring it against the nobleman's greater reach. He was preparing to strike the first blow, when something, a flash of black shadow, with hint of a tail, fell from the rigging to the deck and darted towards von Hedon. The nobleman's hand flashed again to his cloak, bringing up a second duelling pistol, and again the sharp sound of gunshot sounded over the placid sea. All this happened so fast the halfling druid could not keep up, marvelling at the speed of his opponent. The shot missed the shadowy shape by a hair, and it was upon him. It was a skaven, black cloak billowing behind him, and a hairless, scaly tail flicking back and forth in excitement as the ratman stabbed Henrik von Hedon in the stomach with his long, wavy-bladed dagger, faintly glowing with a green haze. Black blood gushed forth from the gaping wound in his abdomen, and he collapsed, dark froth already specking his lips as the potent venoms of the skaven took action.The black-furred ratman stabbed the prone noble again and again, until his silken cloak was but mere shreds, and his oily black blood, tainted by the power of Chaos, was thick on the deck. Then, satisfied with his work, it turned its bestial face towards Fisibbei, red eyes burning with hatred. And the halfling knew fear.Yet, he steeled himself. Dropping his sickle, he willed into being a sword spun from flame, a weapon of fire given form. Thus armed with magic, he struck at the skaven. Their weapons clanged and struck sparks, and the duel had begun. Steel soaked in warpstone struck off solid fire, as the assassin and the druid circled each other, striking out at the opponent, only to be blocked or deflected. The flaming sword's heat singed the skaven's fur, and the unholy magic of the sword made Fisibbei's hairs bristle as the two struck, parried, and struck again in their dance. Their instincts took over, shutting off the outside world.And thus, neither of them noticed the death from behind.</blockquote>

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