Down these mean dungeons a Paladin must go, who is not himself mean but hopefully rolls some 20's!: Book XVI

Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight

BEING a BEGINNING to BOOK XVI

A straight line is not always the shortest distance between two points. Our desperate quest was as unchanging as adamantine; to seek out and seal any portal to the realm of fell Tharizdun, Lord of Chaos and Insanity, Lord of Death. Tharizdun was imprisoned still, bound by mighty magic and far beyond this world, oh by the Dog, we had to believe that, but somehow a rift had been opened to his domain. Over land and sea, his malign influence was creeping, blind lunacy and bloodlust, chaos screaming at the moon, only waiting for the day when all the Dead would rise. All through the Nine Realms, resolute Paladins and Clerics toiled and searched; desperate to find some clue however small. Like our comrades we found the effects of Blind Tharizdun, the deaths and blood sacrifices, the horror and degradation, but like our comrades we found no trace to the gateway drawing his malign reach into our world.

The dark Dreadwood, haunt of Hags and lurking evil under the trees lay a few days ride from Saltmarsh. An entire army could be swallowed up by those winding paths the bright sun never reached. Did the portal lie there, did it? But what of these fearful rumours from the Dwarfhold of Oren Bran, what of these whispers the Isle of the Abbey would well repay investigation? And all the time these ravening Sahuagin threatened Saltmarsh and every ship at sea or settlement along the coast. How could we squander time to thwart their vicious attacks, but how could we continue our search for Tharizdun if tiny Saltmarsh was destroyed around us.

“At least Pia Quellina is safe,” Dain Rocksmiter said quietly. “As safe as she could be at this time.”

“Safe but hardly happy!” retorted Buddynock Rubyrubb. “No Mum, no Dad, no family, just an orphanage with Dread Mrs Tarkleby who we’ve still never clapped eyes on!”

“I’ve seen a few orphanages before, said Halduamina, “but never one with so many locks on the door.”

I had reservations of my own but what by high Olympus could we do save leave poor Pia in that place and hope Divine Lady Artemis, protector of wild beasts and children would be kind? Pia Quellina was five years old, we could not bring her with us, she had no kith and kin alive, where else but the Saltmarsh Orphanage? At least we could make some provision for all these foundlings and lost children; enough coin to ensure they were well fed and cared for, with the chance both to learn and to play. The council of Saltmarsh were still eager to hire our ship to protect their harbour. Their payments could now be made to the orphanage instead.

Yes, we could best protect little Pia Quellina by securing Saltmarsh against these Sahuagin raids while we searched for any gateway to fell Tharizdun. The Council had sent word to us again and this new task offered unexpected hope for all the people and sailors of this town. A long-lost ship had been sighted and our talents were being called upon once again. Any visitor to Saltmarsh soon hears ghostly yarns and rumours: tales of shipwrecks and terrors from the deep, of ships that vanish, or moving lights under the water. Any visitor to sailor taverns soon hears these stories but some actually prove to be true.

Aubrek Drallion was a study in contrasts, his iron grey hair and moustache were fastidiously kept, but Halduamina whispered his long robes were several years out of fashion, the fur trim was worn and his Saltmarsh mansion had clearly seen better days. Once Aubrek Drallion had counted himself a renowned merchant prince of the Keoland Coast, his trading fleet bore rich cargoes across every ocean, each tall carrack running before the trade winds swift as eagles, each stout enough to weather any storm or fight through any pirate raid or looming creature from the deep. Yet one rash investment led to his ruin, for hasty Aubrek converted most of his assets and chattels into letters of payment and promissory notes, placing them all within a strongbox aboard his finest vessel. Aubrek Drallion anticipated an even greater fortune from buying up the latest fine spices from tropic Chult but his fond hopes and fine plans came to nothing when the Empress of the Waves vanished with all her crew six months ago. Yet while we faced the lizard folk of Dunwater, word came to desperate Aubrek, a fishing smack blown far from her usual haunts sighted a storm ravaged hulk on the high sea. The Empress of the Waves was still afloat, still sailing! There was no sign of her crew but could that precious strongbox still be aboard.

I cannot say I took to this ruined merchant. Aubrek Drallion oiled his words with me, but glanced past Halduamina and Buddynock with clear disdain. A wise man does not anger others without cause and a good man does not despise anyone simply for the repaired rips in their cloak. Nonetheless, this Aubrek asked us to recover his lost strongbox from the Empress of the Waves and he offered a tenth of the contents as reward. That alone did not interest me, we had no time to spare and more than enough to attempt. Yet then rapacious Aubrek swore an enchanted weapon was also stored within that strongbox, a trident forged by Aquan Elves to smite Sahuagin and drive them back down to the Deeps far from the shining sun! Crowded Saltmarsh lay wide open to these voracious Sea Devils, we had to take this chance; we could not let such opportunity slip away. (*)

The Dwarven Cog: Soul of Winter, a weatherly vessel even if her deckheads were lower than I cared for

(*) We all saw the efforts of Eliander Fireborn, but only young Anders Solmor was willing to part with any hard coin to fund them. Erecting a stout palisade along the harbour wall was something I suppose, but cut timbers seemed little enough to withstand Sahuagin raiders and reinforcing the doors of houses near the waterfront smacked more of desperation than hope. Yet, what else could Eliander Fireborn do? I certainly had no answer.

-2-

Dain Rocksmiter’s honest face was a careful study in composure. Our comrade honours his Cleric training and remains imperturbable as wrought steel despite any misfortune. Yet I still heard stoic Dain sigh at the news our captured smuggling cog Sea Ghost would not be ready for open water until two snapped pintles holding her rudder were repaired. “Accidental?” Dain muttered to himself. “Really?”

Aubrek Drallion was lavish as a dragon’s banquet with apologies and offered us paid passage aboard his own cog Soul of Winter. It was then we actually witnessed Dain’s eyebrows twitching in surprise. Nothing had prepared any of us for an ocean-going ship crewed entirely by Dwarfish sailors. Captain Wolgar Windrune appeared a weatherly salt sure enough, his eyes were cold, his manner assured, never speaking three words where two would suffice. His sailors strode her decks with solid assurance, springing to capstan bars or walking the high yards with precision and pride, I never once saw the bosun cursing or wielding a tarred rope’s end. Dain Rocksmiter offered a blessing on our enterprise and the crew were swiftly assembled on the main deck as our comrade invoked great Durin and Marthomir Duin, not forgetting wilful Procan god of wild water and the sounding Deeps. We all sensed the suspicions of these hard-bitten salts but I am still sure the quiet piety of Dain Rocksmiter did something to earn their trust and ease their fears. Maybe far more than we guessed at the time.

None of us had forgotten that ghastly seasickness we experienced only four weeks ago aboard the gallant Unicorn, and I had to smile when I realised this voyage we had all taken the precaution of buying vials of antitoxin to settle our stomachs. All of us save Buddynock Rubyrubb who preferred to trust his latest herbal concoction instead. I must be honest, our Druid’s latest botanic tinkering clearly kept himself hale and hearty despite the ocean waves and despite the aroma.

We had waves in plenty now as we left the land behind. Dain Rocksmiter donned his Mariner’s scale hauberk while the rest of us trusted to studded leather brigandines but I still felt the same pang of fear realising once the cliffs of the Keoland coast slipped out of sight and we only had the boundless sea beneath us. I summoned brave Boreas as a hippocampus again and I took some comfort knowing his lithe form ceaselessly circled our small ship, warding us from danger and warning us of risk.

Dwarven skipper of the Soul of Winter cog: Captain Wolgar Windrune

That wayward fishing smack had sighted Empress of the Waves almost ten days sailing from shore. The wind stood fair from the south west and Soul of Winter made good speed to her last known position. The first days passed without incident but we heard sounds from the deep each evening, plaintive cries the crew said were great whales calling to each other far below, yet the second night I could swear we heard actual words and creatures singing somewhere far distant. The next day two of our crew deftly recovered a bobbing cask floating alongside us. They tapped the barrel but the ale within had been fouled by salt water.

The next two days and nights proved uneventful save for a curved grey fin keeping us company one hundred yards astern. A man can accept, in an abstract way, that sharks swim many wide waters, yet to see a shark, to actually see and know a shark is watching and waiting hardly helped me sleep in my hammock!

“None of the crew seem uneasy,” I muttered to Halduamina as we gazed back over the stern rail.

Our Rogue appeared to be reckoning the distance and angle to our devoted escort. “Maybe they heard Buddynock’s passionate sermon: “ ‘Sharks, misunderstood, wholly necessary and natural beauties of the deep. When you see plentiful sharks, you know you have a very healthy ocean!’ ”

“Don’t you believe him then?” I asked.

“Let’s just say I’m not entirely sure enthusiasm makes up for incomplete statistics!” said Halduamina.

We spent little time on deck for Captain Windrune clearly preferred we remained in our quarters below. The time passed easily enough I suppose, swapping yarns and reminiscences and wondering over our former comrades, now far away in places uncertain and unknown. I remain ever grateful for my cherished copy of Malory for some words, no matter how familiar, still evoke such emotion each and every time they are read. I still savour a game of chess with any who will play against me. Druid Rubyrubb remains very welcome but still insists on providing “suitable” sounds to accompany any move, particularly the knights. All gnomes are clearly incorrigible!

It was just past six bells in the middle watch when I roused my comrades, one finger held to my mouth as I drew long Talon and slipped my heater shield on my left arm. “I heard a noise forrad.” I paused, listened again. “Boreas began to warn me then he was dispelled. We’ve been boarded.” (*)

(*) “Don’t tell me Dalmas has sashayed from heraldic humbug to maritime malarkey!” said Buddynock. “Or trying to at least.”

“Six bells in the middle watch?” Halduamina shook his head. “All I know is that it’s still bloody dark!”

It’s three in the morning,” sighed Dain Rocksmiter. “Middle of the night and I am bobbing around in a wooden tub surrounded by assorted lunatics and fish with larger teeth than the Tarrasque!”

“Yesterday Dalmas was referring to ratlines, reefpoints, futtock shrouds and binnacles.” Druid Buddynock gave an evil grin. “Even money says come the next crisis Dalmas forgets anything even vaguely nautical and simply shouts: “for God’s sake turn left!”

-3-

Not all Sahuagin rely on their long teeth and claws: some trust to bronze tridents and spears.

Their many forms vary, their hunger for blood never fades.

But by bright Apollo and Hyperion, nobody ever warned us they had a shaman!

Dain Rocksmiter cast barkskin as Halduamina slipped his enchanted rapier into his left hand, his long poignard into his right and Buddynock Rubyrubb checked his cherished ring of protection was safe on his finger and Wilson the bucket automaton was primed and ready. We heard a muffled curse, a swiftly stifled cry of pain and the slap of bare wet feet on the wooden deck. My comrades nodded, I held my breath, listened again and kicked the door wide.

A score of Sahuagin had swarmed over the bulwarks. They reeked of wet clinging weed, brine and fresh blood. Two sailors lay dead upon the deck, we saw the wide-eyed horror of another dwarf as these Sea Devils dragged him down, their claws ripping at his flesh. Blood ran red into the scuppers, the Sahuagin were masters of the forecastle, and fighting around the tiller. To our horror we saw their gleaming eyes turn black as pitch with blood lust, saw them tearing two sailors apart. More Sea Devils were massed over the main hatchway and blocking the foc’lse door; the watch on deck were being slaughtered before our eyes and the dwarfs below were trapped with no way to join their desperate comrades.

Wilson was lurching forward firing force bolts as I hacked at the nearest Sahuagin, two swift cuts with Talon. Nimble Halduamina leapt forward like a dancer his blades gleaming as Dain Rocksmiter cast a Guiding Bolt into the midst of our foes. Alas our Cleric’s spell faltered and died as to our amazement and dismay a green Guiding Bolt shot out of the sea splintering the ship’s rail at Dain’s side!

I slew a second Sahuagin, but poor Halduamina lurched back a pace, blood spurting from his gashed side. Three Sahuagin surged forward, spears levelled, their eyes gleaming, only to stop dead in shock as a crocodile burst from our cabin jaws agape, a crocodile clad in a tattered night shirt bedecked with teddy bears and a cap complete with fluffy pompom. As Wilson drove back two Sahuagin, our shape shifting Druid seized another Sea Devil by the leg. We heard an explosive curse from Dain Rocksmiter as his second Guiding Bolt also missed and a return shot by the swimming Sahuagin shaman left our comrade blistered and burnt and shining with eldritch light, an easy mark for any missile hurled by our savage foes.

Once again, I sorely missed my plate harness yet I still felled a third Sea Devil. Brave Dain launched two further Guiding bolts, but, alas, his aim was all awry this night and the answering spells from that Sahuagin shaman left the battered bulwarks sheltering Dain splintered and smoking. The dwarfs below deck and in the foc’lse were still making frantic efforts to join the fight. Half the watch were down and dying and I saw another sailor plucked bodily over the side, helplessly entangled in a Sahuagin net. Poor wretch, I will never forget the stark terror in his eyes as he was dragged down beneath the waves, his end was surely swift, but this was a death stripped of any dignity, his bones scattered to oblivion far from blessed daylight and the stars.

The fight still hung in the balance, then wise Dain cast a Spiked Growth spell into the midst of the Sahuagin clustered around the main hatch. We heard hisses of fury as the magic thorns tore their scaled skin and the dwarfs below redoubled their efforts to gain the deck. Our Druid in crocodile form finished his first quarry and lurched forward for a second; gallant Wilson was sent spinning by a savage kick yet never ceased darting between our foes loosing force bolts as fast as his magic could charge. Yes, the fight hung in the balance and the scales were slowly tipping in our favour. We heard barked orders, saw the remaining Sahuagin slowly start to give ground, their spears up, their tridents darting, still alert for any opportunity to strike home. The half dozen snared by Dain Rocksmiter’s spell tore themselves free, all save the last Sea Devil which shrieked and died snarling as three dwarven spears sank home through the hatchway underneath.

Halduamina was in no condition to fight, his slender hands clasped to the deep gash in his side but the rest of us pressed our foes close, harrying them every step until they turned and plunged bodily into the deep. We sank back exhausted, sank back too spent even to think. Eight of Soul of Winter’s crew had been slain outright or carried beneath the waves, eight dwarves out of thirty. Sadly, there was no chance for Dain Rocksmiter to cast Revivify, for the fight had lasted just too long for his spell to be effective.

At least our Cleric’s Prayer of Healing could aid both ourselves and the wounded crew, though it took my own skill to cure the inflamed injury of Halduamina. I do not want to speculate on the noxious matter coating that Sahuagin spear head but our comrade’s chest was already festering. Without my aid I wonder if even our stalwart Half Elf would have survived for long. Dain Rocksmiter repaired damaged timbers and cordage with his mending cantrip and our quiet friend also performed funeral honours for every fallen sailor, after first asking permission and making sure his services would be welcome. From such simple courtesies we see the measure of our comrades.

Captain Windrune doubled the watch even though we were lamentably short-handed. So we stood turn and turn about ourselves and these gruff mariners seemed to trust us better for our efforts. They certainly realised without our presence those Sahuagin raiders would have carried the ship and left no survivors behind. We were nine days sail from Saltmarsh now, the wind fresh on our quarter, the clear azure sky above a glimpse of Elysium. A keen-eyed dwarven topman sat spyglass in hand at the masthead, as we stood languidly at the stern, arms resting upon the bulwarks, gazing out across the waves. Eight bells of the forenoon watch would soon be sounded and we smelt some spiced ragout simmering on the galley stove. If the storm wracked Empress of the Waves was still above water, surely, we would see her soon.

“Funny how your eyes play tricks,” said Halduamina.

“Penalty for reading those mucky books from the alchemist’s mansion,” muttered Dain. Even with his magic Mariner’s armour our comrade was never happy on the high seas, but I was glad to see our friend still attempting some wry humour all the same.

“You mean that shark fin astern?” I asked. “And the way it began to look far bigger?”

“It’s just a trick of perspective.” Druid Rubyrubb spoke with weary patience. “Because so many people overestimate the danger from sharks, they assume they are actually far bigger than they are.”

“Like we are doing now?” said Halduamina.

“Precisely!” nodded Buddynock. “It’s just wilful illusion. It’s … just … er … it’s … just …”

“It’s not you know!” snapped Dain his dark eyes wide with horror. “Not anymore!”

There are no real words, no words at all. It was huge, it was awesome, a moving mountain of muscle and flesh, the dorsal fin at least six feet tall, this shark was almost as long as our entire boat. Charcoal grey above, near white below, eyes dark as hell, long gills wide as arrow slits, and as it slowly rolled revealing its belly, jaws beyond all imagining, jaws dropping deep as a castle drawbridge, gaping wider than a cottage wall, a gullet of pulsing red flesh and serried rows of jagged teeth, the smallest still longer than my dagger. Dread Venomfang of Thundertree had a sly wit and elegance; that looming frog behemoth of Dunwater still responded to those desperate rites and rituals. Not this, never this; the shark alongside us now was simply death incarnate. We froze in horror, not daring to move, not daring to make a sound. The helmsman’s hands were bone white on the tiller bar, his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead, we saw his comrade near weeping with terror as the Megalodon swam with easy grace alongside our starboard beam.

In that nightmare moment I am simply surprised we did not fall to the deck dead from fright. I could see Buddynock was ready with his gust of wind spell, ready to send Soul of Winter scudding across the waves and the course did not matter providing it was away from that yawning maw. Buddynock could cast gust of wind five times, six including his scroll. Yet would this be enough? How could we tell? I only hoped and prayed we did not have to put such desperate measures to the mark. The Megalodon saw us, this monster clearly knew we were there. I saw no injuries slowing its speed, nothing to prevent an attack. One dwarf was clinging to the rigging directly above the shark, his elbows clenched around the tarred cordage; he did not, dared not move, his eyes were shut, he knew what lurked just beneath him. Our whole ship was quiet as a closed grave.

It would attack, we knew that, at any moment it would attack and sink us, those teeth tearing through oak timbers and teak strakes, teeth that would rip us apart and swallow us whole. It would strike, it would strike soon. Yet, yet, the creature, this living death suddenly dived deep into the depths, its huge forked tail breaking the surface like some great demonic scythe before plunging below us, disappearing down into the dark. What easier prey had the Megalodon sighted? Some hapless whale or giant serpent, whose blood would soon be staining the water? I could not say, we did not know; we were all simply trembling and thankful just to be alive.

No image can ever do a Megalodon any justice. No image can capture the stark terror.

I cannot, will not bring myself to imagine encountering those jaws actually in the water

“Are we really standing on the poop deck?” asked Halduamina.

“It’s the poop deck now,” said Buddynock Rubyrubb. “Definitely! And that’s the captain’s log.”

It had dived, disappeared, the fearsome Megalodon was truly gone! I never expect a narrower escape all the days of my life. We would have fought yes, oh by great Poseidon we would have tried with all the strength and skill we possessed, but no weapons any of us wielded could have saved our lives and even our strongest magic offered only a bleak hope at best. Dain could have called upon the divine mercy of Marthomir Duin whose grace extends to all living plants and creatures, land, air or sea. Yes, Dain could have tried to charm the beast, though even his powers would scarcely have lasted for long. His only other hope was even more desperate and definitely more terrifying; our wise nature Cleric could have tried to speak to the Megalodon!

“I can’t begin to imagine what it could possibly say!” I said.

“I don’t want to!” said Halduamina.

“Food food! Eat Eat! Blood Blood! is my guess,” shuddered Dain.

“Yup!” Buddynock nodded. I noticed he had still not wiped his misted goggles. “Or something on the lines of ‘Orl rite mate! Oi mate! Go on, go now. Shove a couple of juicy buggers into the briny, you get me mate? I like my meat wivout splinters rite? But … mate … I don’t mind chomping wood if I has to! Rite?”

“Quite.” Elegant Halduamina grimaced.

“Call me Mr. Gloomy,” said Buddynock, “But I somehow don’t expect to hear any Megalodon ever singing: “Has anyone seen our ship? The HMS Disgusting. She’s three guns aft and one gun fore and they’ve promised us a funnel for the next world war.”

Halduamina gave a wry smile: “There was certainly room with a view inside that mouth!”

“Sadly,” Dain Rocksmiter tried to smile. “The only cowards around here would be quivering on this deck!”

Soul of Winter forged on ceaselessly. We spent most of our time on deck now day or night, for I think we all felt safest under the open sky where at least we had some chance of observing any danger before it struck. Sleeping below had become so much harder, once it took even less imagination to picture the straining hull suddenly pierced by gigantic jagged teeth and freezing water flooding our breached cabin.

It was five bells in the morning watch when we heard a cry from the masthead. “Sail ho, but no courses in sight and damn all masts either.” (*)

(*) “Translation?” said Buddynock Rubyrubb.

“Half past six in the morning.” Dain sighed. “I thought I wrote all these out for you.”

“Oooh! Almost first breakfast time!” grinned our Druid. “See, I do memorise the important stuff!”

-4-

Empress of the Waves, a sad, wave-beaten, weather-wracked shard of her former beauty.

She was low in the water and listing to port, her masts were mere stumps, her last few sails just tattered rags.

Her main deck was cleared of clutter; we saw no sign of life aboard her, no sign at all. A majestic angel, wooden wings outstretched had once graced her bows, but not now, not anymore. The head was gone, the wings broken away; the Empress of the Waves had lost her crown.

Captain Windrune gave his opinion with terse deliberation, yet from the surprised stares of his crew, this was still a longer speech than any he had ever uttered before. “She’s watertaken and cargo shifted, she’s listing, near sinking and could roll on her beam ends with the very next wave. You are insane to even try boarding.”

“But we’re not simply seeking treasure, are we?” Dain Rocksmiter gave me a very level glance.

“The weapon is everything,” I nodded. “The trident forged to face Sahuagin.”

“If it had only been gold aboard her …” Dain left his next words hanging.

“I would not have come within ten leagues,” I nodded. “Especially after seeing our ‘friend’ only yesterday!”

“I will cast Waterbreathing,” said Dain. “That will give us one full day but I feel Buddynock should reserve his Walk on Water spell for the return.”

“Too right!” exclaimed our Druid. “My tiptoe across the briny only lasts an hour and I certainly don’t fancy any sudden splashes mid amble!”

“Could we tow her?” I began. “Slowly. Back to-“

“No!” said Windrune. “She’s sinking now. Still sure, you want to board?”

None of us quite trusted ourselves to answer! Our first concern was Captain Windrune’s insistence on standing off a good five hundred feet to windward. Yes, this meant Soul of Winter had the weather gauge and could run down upon us with alacrity should need arise, but five hundred feet? Long bowshot is hardly close support !

Two dwarfish sailors would row us across the open sea to the derelict Empress. Two actual volunteers, who briskly added long ropes and grappling hooks to the little jolly boat. Oleric Battlehammer and Baern Frostbeard were certainly stoic and worthy sailors, well, we had seen them aloft on Soul of Winter or taking their turn at the capstan or tiller, but I have to admit I still paused to consider the implications. We were truly placing our lives into their hands. Neither sailor spoke much; but I caught their shared glance and saw Oleric spit deliberately over the side.

Baern Frostbeard

Oleric Battlehammer

Brave Dain was the first of our party to swing himself down into the pitching jolly boat. None of us waited to join him, if this task truly had to be attempted the less time to consider the risks the better! I still feel frightened aboard a large ship, travelling open waters in a jolly boat leaves me swallowing hard and unable to even speak. And that was before we ever even sighted that damned Megalodon!

The Empress of the Waves was heeling over, her upper decks sloping down to port. Her sides were streaked with algae and we saw some curious holes above the waterline. Our two Dwarfish sailors noticed them too and I heard muttered and earnest conversation for at least five minutes. “You are set on this?” Baern addressed only Dain Rocksmiter; the rest of us could as well have been invisible.

“Needs must,” Dain spoke evenly, looking the sailor full in the face. “As Moradin faced down the Creature from the Darkness so must we place our own lives at hazard.”

“The Three Sisters demand?” asked Oleric. “We are paid to sweat and row, but you …”

“We seek a lost weapon of power, a weapon to safeguard us all,” Dain said quietly. “This is not a quest I choose gladly but needs must and needs call now.”

The two Dwarves at the oars nodded to each other. “We shall be waiting. A quarter cable length to starboard. We will be watching and we shall be with you swifter than diving dolphins the moment you signal.”

“You will guard yourselves all the same?” Dain asked humbly.

“When the Fates call every life is set to the hazard,” said Baern. “We shall be waiting, whether the mine roof cracks and falls, we shall be here.”

The Empress of the Waves soon loomed above us, her list more obvious the closer we drew. Her decks were swept clear, we could not see any fallen spars or cordage even though her three masts were nothing but short stumps. Our first cast was good but the grappling hook shattered the battered bulwark rail as the prongs bit home. We tried, we kept trying, we were glad of the light of the boat’s lantern and our two faithful Driftglobes. The shadowed sides of the ship were fouled with mould and algae but our grapples bit home on the sixth attempt. Swiftly, one at a time, we swung ourselves aboard, our feet almost sinking into the rotten planking. Our Dwarven rowers backed on their oars then pulled hard for open water, gallant Boreas keeping them company, his alert eyes scanning the sea below. We stood alone on the Empress of the Waves, there was no sound or sign of life, only the ceaseless murmur of the sea and the rhythmic creaking of the ship’s worn timbers.

Our search of the upper deck was swift. Her wheel turned at a touch, the rudder cables had clearly been sheered. Bluff Captain Windrune was more correct than he guessed; we had no hope of towing the Empress of the Waves back to land even if her hull had still been sound.

“There are bloodstains on the deck,” muttered Halduamina, his keen eyes never resting anywhere for long. “Old blood, almost washed away by the sea but blood all the same.”

“Take a sea voyage for your health,” whispered Buddynock Rubyrubb. “Yeah right!”

The aft cabin door was water-swollen shut, the two small ports on either side were so choked with spider webs we could not peer within. The door resisted all our efforts until I drew my iron crowbar from my Bag of Holding, the same crowbar I took from poor Hrove a long year ago. So much for our hopes of stealth and surprise, for the entire door split into shards and fragments as I applied my weight!

Inside lay the Captain’s quarters, but the great stern windows had been shattered by the pounding waves and the sodden chamber was streaked with dark, encrusted mould. Hanging cobwebs obscured our view and tiny spiders fled from our lights, but we still searched every inch. The battered desk was a jumble of oddments and wrecked navigation aids. A broken spyglass made me remember Ranger Samuel and once again not even Dain’s mending cantrip could restore missing lenses. We did find the Captain’s journal, the pages soaked and sticking together. We had no time to waste, we could feel this dying ship settling beneath our feet, but it was surely still worth reading the last few entries.

The ink was faded, the words were hard to distinguish and we were grateful for Halduamina’s enlarging lens. Stark sentences, terse and grim, a log of the last two weeks Empress of the Waves still possessed a crew. Driven off course by storms and short of provisions, the sailors were living on half rations and their officers feared mutiny. A small wooded island was sighted but the well-armed party sent ashore in search of food and fresh water failed to return. That night the watch reported hearing drums, deep drumming, they thought they saw their lost boat returning, but no, nothing more was ever seen of those vanished sailors. Savage attackers came in the night, surging from the island in small skin coracles, orcs, goblins and creatures the desperate Captain chose not to describe too closely. The Empress of the Waves was short-handed, yet her hard beset, brutally outnumbered crew still acquitted themselves well, driving back every attempt to board her, even as those savage drums rose to a fresh frenzy. Eleven good sailors fell but they had saved their ship … for the moment.

All that night and through the next those drums were beating. Each fallen mariner received all due rites as their weighted bodies were committed to the sea, but the ship was still surrounded by floating corpses, those dead denizens from the island who tried to take her. At this point the page was ripped and stained with blood, few lines were still intelligible but something had risen from the deep, some great shadow far beneath them, waiting so patiently for Empress of the Waves to sail clear of the island into the open ocean. All hope seemed lost; all effort seemed vain, but the log then described a stranger approaching them in a single skiff. A lone Half Orc, who hailed the ship, who claimed he was fleeing the island and its savage inhabitants; a shaman who offered help and healing. He could sustain the starving crew with his Goodberry spell and he swore he could protect them from the lurking shadow in the sea.

What choice did the crew have, what choice at all. Indeed, in those first few hours on board this Half Orc Krell truly worked wonders, his spells restored some vigour to these exhausted men and when they heard the island drums begin again, when they saw more of those small hide boats pushing off from the shore, the remaining dozen mariners turned Empress of the Waves to the open sea and entrusted their lives to mighty Procan. They had not given up, not yet, these poor doomed men still hoped. And then the last page of the log ended abruptly:

“The Creature attacked once we reached deeper waters. Three more dead. Two taken. Myself and the First Mate wounded. Krell kept the Beast at bay, before it could destroy our ship entirely. Krell tends to us now. Serves a foul brew which he insists will heal us. I can feel a fever coming. Krell says it will pass quickly. I hope he is right.”

The final words were barely a scrawl:

“I know not how many days have passed. Fever is only growing stronger. Shivering, shaking, I have not seen my crew for at least a day. I heard them, I think but … I am burning. I feel them on me crawling on me. Eight legs crawling on me, feasting on me. Krell still says I’ll be better soon. I’ll be better soon…”

Not even merry Buddynock Rubyrubb felt like joking. We were done here, there was nothing more. A curving companionway led below, but after listening for any signs of life I gestured to my companions and we turned back to the open main deck.

“Knowing our luck, Aubrek’s strongbox is deep in the bowels of the ship,” said Halduamina.

“The ship leaning on one side and ready to go glug at any moment!” said our Druid.

“So surely, we should head down into the hold immediately,” our Rogue pointed at the main hatch and we gazed down through the corroded iron grille into the deck below. There was no sign of life, no hint of the missing crew. All was simply shadows and clinging webs and I thought of that that doomed log and shuddered. (*)

“Very likely if that strongbox is still actually aboard, but I say better to clear the ship deck by deck.” I chose my words with care, wanting my comrades to understand and accept. “There is something here, something undead, but nothing I can be sure of, nothing we have ever faced before.”

“You mean-” began Dain Rocksmiter.

“Better to clear each deck in turn than risk any ambush from above and have to fight our way topsides to daylight. One dropped net could doom us all.” I silently sighed with relief to see their nods.

We moved forward to the bows, leaning constantly to our right to counter the list of the ship. I forced the foc’lse door and the rusty lock gave way to my crowbar without further noise. The bluff bows had protected this forward cabin but we still found the same sad flotsam of ship’s stores and personal belongings. We also found some of their former owners for: two web shrouded corpses hung from the warped deckhead, swaying soundlessly with every pitch and roll of the ship. We sliced open the shrouds and saw emaciated bodies in sailors’ rig, their skin dry and brittle, their bodies drained of blood.

Dain’s eyes were angry as he spoke a blessing over the desecrated corpses. “If only I had prepared a Speak with the Dead spell!”

“You can’t predict everything,” said our loyal Druid.

“We guessed the crew had been struggling to survive,” said Dain. “A Cleric should think ahead!”

(*) I have seen our Rogue’s intelligence so many times, yet I know Halduamina Half Elven can also prove somewhat rash with his plans. Nerve is needed, but we all risk a reckoning for being reckless.

-5-

The attack came without warning, they struck from the shadows and the hanging webs. Two great spiders, each the width of a water cask, dropped from the deckhead. One sprang at my head, long segmented legs scrabbling against my shield. Poor Halduamina staggered back as a bloated grey creature clawed at his flesh, a creature with a bulbous human body, but a hideous spider head long fangs bared and snapping. Now a second Ettercap attacked from the dark! (*)

Giant Spiders are loathsome wherever their location.

Who could have ever expected an Ettercap on the high seas?

They lurk in dank caverns and dark forests where the blessed sun never reaches.

(*) It was fortunate indeed we had all found our sea legs by now.

I would not have given much for our survival otherwise.

Despite Druid Rubyrubb’s stunned doubletake and sustained sniggering, I maintain that “deckhead” IS the correct nautical term.

I checked!

-6-

The Ettercaps’ curved fangs dripped with venom, the claws on their hands and feet slashed through our Rogue’s leather brigandine and I saw the rapier fall from his left hand. Buddynock Rubyrubb parried and slashed with his enchanted scimitar and Dain’s rune axe Grom cleaved deep as I thrust home with long Talon. Our foes would not fall back a single step. One Ettercap convulsed and spat a cloying web before I could dodge, enveloping me in noisome, clinging fibres. I fought to free myself as the creature leapt for my face, great fangs snapping. Swarms of fist sized spiders now burst from between the planks, flowing over Dain and little Buddynock, running over and inside their armour, their hair and beards, biting and clawing as my comrades beat frantically with their fists and the flat of their blades. I could never have guessed the sheer pain such swarms could inflict; they were eating my comrades alive! I was trapped, I still could not escape that sticky web and I saw the grey body of that cursed Ettercap convulsing and swelling as it tried to unleash a second strand to subdue me.

Despite his injuries Halduamina was slashing with his long dagger as gallant Ettel did her living best to distract his savage foe. Time and again, I called on the divine grace of Pallas Athene, slaying both giant spiders in quick succession and cleaving the neck of one Ettercap, despite the encumbrance of those vile silken fronds. Ignoring the confusion and pain steadfast Dain kept his concentration and his gleaming spiritual weapon did sterling service, a spectral floating mace of Marthomir Duin crushing those teeming spiders with radiant light. Halduamina slew his own foe and cast his shocking grasp spell, slaying some of the swarm attacking Buddynock and leaving the others twitching furiously, unable to bite or move. Our desperate Druid was rolling back and forth across the deck to kill the last. (*)

We slew them all, but Halduamina was hard hit and clutching deep wounds to his side and shoulder, our Rogue is always so nimble making his attack, and so vulnerable if any combat is prolonged. His left hand had been fractured by those snapping jaws. We all needed Dain’s Prayer of Healing to recover our strength and it took my own skill to swiftly knit the bones of Halduamina back into place. Any true Druid reveres all natural life, animal, insect or plant. Any true Druid loathes any undead or aberration and these vile Ettercaps were truly abominable. I have never seen our Gnomish comrade clean his weapons with such care after a skirmish. “They normally lurk in manky glades where even the mushrooms grow in pairs. Randy Pan alone knows what they are doing out here!” said Buddynock. (**)

“Forests like this Dreadwood?” asked Halduamina as he flexed his tingling fingers while Dain’s mending cantrip sealed the long rips in his studded leather jerkin.

“I just hope we never have to venture there.” Our small Druid shuddered. “No, don’t ask me why.”

“Are we quite sure they were actual Ettercaps?” Dain Rocksmiter asked quietly. “You remember the last words in the ship’s log.”

“Trust me, I’m trying to forget them!” said Buddynock.

(*) “Which way was the Ettercap facing?” Buddynock attempted a bashful smile.

“I’m not quite sure,” was all I wanted to say but, alas, our Gnomish Druid is most observant!

“Oh! Was the dirty devil facing away when he … err … wafted out a web?” Buddynock’s grin had left innocence a long sea mile astern! “Was he looking over his shoulder when he let loose?”

(**) Our Druid spoke with righteous vehemence and passion; we all knew Buddynock Rubyrubb meant every word. I just couldn’t help wondering if his brethren might one day call him to account for adopting that pernicious owlbear chick or wandering the world with a magically automated clockwork bucket!

-7-

A companionway also led down from this forrard cabin but the steps were choked with webs and a vile stench came from the darkness. We were all shaken by our desperate struggle. We all knew the first person to descend here would be an easy mark, and we all agreed the stairs aft now seemed the wiser choice. At least we were satisfied the main deck was clear and at least with no masts standing there was no possibility of any foe lurking above in the rigging. We retraced our steps to that stern companionway, nodded to each other and I led the way below. We would not risk Buddynock scouting in animal form, not here, and Halduamina needed his otter familiar close by to aid his attacks. No, we would face these perils together come what may.

We descended into what seemed to be the galley, judging by the blackened iron stove set against the internal partition, the firebox standing on inset brickwork for safety’s sake. The deck was cluttered with bones and debris and a jangling choir of metal knives and cookpots swung from hooks in the ceiling. We saw a door pierced by axe blows and held shut by rusted iron spikes, we saw a mouldy trapdoor leading down into the cargo hold and the wedged wooden bar holding it closed. There were no webs, that was something, but tiny spiders still crawled everywhere. The air stank of death and decay and I wished again I was wearing my stout plate harness.

“Someone barricaded themselves in here,” Dain said quietly, his brown eyes gleaming in the light of his Spiritual Weapon.

“But from what?” Halduamina sucked air back over his teeth.

“They might have just felt shy and not wanted company.” Buddynock always jokes most when the threat is greatest. “At least keep telling yourselves that!”

“Same as before?” said a chastened Halduamina.

“I think so,” I tried to smile. “I really don’t want to be staring up at any Ettercap losing webs.”

“Especially if he’s looking over his shoulder at the time?” Buddynock was not even trying looking innocent now!

“Moving on,” muttered Dain. “Yes, we leave by the door once we knock those wedges away. But first we shift that bar securing the hatch to the hold. I want more than one means of leaving this ship!”

There was little hope left we were undetected but there is nothing lost by trying all the same. If there was any chance any crew were still alive and still human, we had to find them, as well as recovering that wretched strongbox. We muffled each corroded spike with fragments of cloth before I knocked them free with my mace. The warped door swung open to a cabin running the full width of the ship. One swift glance was all we needed, for the horror was all too plain; two cocooned bodies swung from the beams overhead and the deck beneath was daubed in runes written in blood; runes and the jagged spiral sign of blind Tharizdun. So now we finally knew. Damn them all, each and every one of his insane acolytes, they brought death and decay, they murdered life, happiness and hope; we would give these vicious fools the last fight of their lives! Even now, yes even now, there still might be prisoners we could aid! (*)

(*) “I can’t help noticing Dalmas never says “succour” any more,” whispered Halduamina.

“Well not since Buddynock got so excited!” grinned Dain.

Alas for chivalry! How fast your grace and language fades in this besmirched and tawdry world!

-8-

We charged headlong weapons raised and ready. Three giant spiders leapt from the shadows, a fourth suddenly appeared from thin air. Even as we beat them back, a burly Half Orc stepped forward, black bog oak staff in hand. We saw his jagged tusks and yellow eyes, heard him mouth a druidic spell and a flaming sphere of fire came rushing towards us, bursting in an agony of heat and flame. One spider bit home and I saw my torn hand swell and blister as the venom sank under my skin. I staggered, my head swam, but I still struck back, still sheared away half that creature’s legs as it lunged again.

Halduamina’s long hair was alight, the paint on Dain’s kite shield flaked and fell away. We heard that Half-Orc’s wild guttural roar as he sent that fiendish fire forward yet again. Poor Dain’s spiritual weapon vanished as his concentration waned. We were all frantically hacking at those hanging spiders, and each was wounded now, their black blood was dripping to the deck. Yet again that sphere of fire seared our flesh, hotter and harsher than before, as the four injured spiders shrieked and died in those same eldritch flames, their long legs twitching, their hairy husks ablaze. That maniac had slain his own servants, but the Half Orc merely bellowed with joy! This was sheer insanity, utter madness, a true follower of Blind Tharizdun indeed!

I swept my glance from side to side, we were all still standing, just, but we were badly burnt, all wounded, and the very cabin was now aflame around us. That grinning Half Orc merely threw back his head and roared the same incantation again. I saw that sphere of fire pulsing and growing, we could not escape, we could not reach him, we were doomed. I was reeling from that spider venom but I still bawled my command spell, my words rang out and our foe gaped and paused, his sphere of fire vanished and we lurched forward all four of us and cut that Half Orc down without hesitation or mercy. We also slew the small winged beast that seemed his familiar. Both were better dead and dead quickly.

For had we found the portal to Tharizdun? Was this the end of our quest! No, alas no, our hopes died the instant we could examine that bloody sigil. I cast a Bless spell more in spirit than to serve any real purpose but this once proud ship had been sullied and debased, her crew murdered and corrupted and I could not, would not, leave such painted blasphemy intact.

Krell the Half Orc about to order his Sphere of Fire against us.

Two of his victims hang behind. Most we never found; at least not in their own true forms.

We dared not rest, but at least we could spare time for magic. Dain’s Jug of Alchemy spat a torrent of salt water to extinguish that blazing cabin and our Cleric comrade cast a further Prayer of Healing. I used my own divine powers to drive any venom from my body. Both cocooned bodies were dead, dry and drained of blood, two more of this sullied ship’s lost crew. A wooden chest alongside the hull was smouldering, but mercifully the contents were intact. We destroyed any trappings of foul Tharizdun and made good use of the Identify scrolls still carried by Halduamina. We found two potions: one of heroism, and one of water breathing, and two spell scrolls: gust of wind and protection from poison. There were four or five hundred gold coins, we had no time for counting and a few hundred silver pieces. We stripped the best prize off the back of dead Krell, a magic cloak of protection for our Rogue.

“Very swish,” said Buddynock as he gazed down at the corpse of our foe. “I am sorry to admit this but he was definitely a Druid of sorts.”

“Really?” I asked. “Could you cast that fire spell too?”

“If I chose,” said Buddynock and he suddenly seemed far quieter than usual.

“When Druids go bad eh?” Halduamina chuckled.

“And not just running up bar tabs or being barred for unscripted and impromptu tavern patron interaction!” Dain Rocksmiter said wryly.

We worked our way forrard once more, inching along a narrow corridor amidships linking small cabins on either side. Two held nothing but smashed wooden furniture and tiny spiders who fled immediately they sensed our light. Another had thick webs extending from deckhead to floor. One cabin was possibly the haunt of that Half Orc. Palm fronds were piled in one corner as a bed, and a heavy, stone-tipped wooden spear and oblong shield leaned against the wall; a shield with the image of a human skull covered in crawling spiders. Two weathered heads hung from pegs and we found several well gnawed human bones amid the bedding. We certainly could not help noticing the foot long jagged hole in the hull of the Empress. It was lucky indeed this dying ship was not listing to starboard instead.

Those rhythmic creaks seemed even louder down here and I had to fight a sudden urge to rush back to the open deck. The Empress’ list seemed even more pronounced in this narrow passage and we all struggled to keep our footing. Then daylight streamed down from above. We gazed up wistfully at the grating on the main deck. The hatch at our feet clearly led directly down to the cargo hold but the cover looked even more rotten and rusted. We inched our way past with all care.

This passage ended in one more door. Wise Dain is so skilful facing any undead but even the best Clerics are not trained to face every dark foe. This ship was confusing, unclear but now I suddenly knew what lay in the cabin beyond. I paused, I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. Did wise Dain notice my hesitation, did he wonder? The others might say to leave them, they might say the Empress of the Waves is clearly sinking and we do not need to run this risk; indeed, only fools walk into dangers without due need. Well, they can call me a fool, I know my duty all the same, I know there are terrors that must be faced and vanquished any time possible. The small door gave under my hand. Good, we would not need my crowbar.

The cramped forward cabin was only lit by our floating Driftglobes. We saw four more bodies hanging from the deckhead, each again shrouded head to foot in clinging spider webs. They revolved slowly forward and back, forward and back, without rest, without pause their movement infinitely horrible. All bloated, all dead, but still dancing, still endlessly circling to the ceaseless waves. More tiny spiders scuttled into the shadows at our approach.

“The missing crew?” asked Dain, as he carefully scanned the corners and the planks over our heads. “Have we found them?”

I rather feared we had. Certainly, the last evidence of their existence. I had journeyed far with wise Dain and merry Buddynock for over a year now and spent months in company with Halduamina. We come to know familiar comrades better than family. We see each other at both our worst and best: fearful, confused, exhausted and struggling to endure, but also resolute, and valiant , charging forward when needs must, yet showing gentle courtesy each day we breathe. Our comrades in the quest become closer than brothers, we know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, we know how each of us reacts…

So, I suppose it was something of a shock to my companions when I strode forward without speaking and twice thrust long Talon home to the quillons through the nearest cocooned corpse. “Maw demons!” I bellowed as the shrieking aberration convulsed in its death throes, dark ichor dripping to the deck and I rammed my sword home hilt deep again. The other three cocoons convulsed and twitched like monstrous serpents swallowing prey. Long grasping claws slashed through each cobweb shroud.

Dain Rocksmiter stands stalwart against all Undead, even that fearsome vampire of Saltmarsh could not shake his calm resolve, yet none of my friends, not even brave Clerics are trained to face fiends. Our nightmare stand in that foolish wizard’s chamber back in Swarstaag was the first time my friends had ever seen a demon.

An orc is savage and vicious, yet even orcs are still part of our world and sometimes no more bloodthirsty than the men, dwarves and elves standing against them. Any paladin must strive against all evil, no matter the source, yet both orcs and men fear the fell Balrog. No one can ever be sure what our future holds, and one day, maybe, an orc might yet change and learn and become something more. We cannot say, we cannot know for sure, but there is always hope, there has to be hope for better. In contrast, demons are raw death and decay given physical form, fiends seeking only to devour, corrupt and destroy, their bodies a twisted mockery of our own, creatures of chaos and fear, depraved and delighting in pain and degradation. All such Hellspawn must be faced and fought any, and every, time they are found.

Three creatures ripped themselves free of the clinging webs. Glabrous, hairless entities, each six feet tall, their long bodies naked and glistening with slime, their tubular heads eyeless, their sphincter mouths like the fanged jaws of a blood sucking lamprey. Their mouths gaped wide and vermillion red tongues swollen like serpents oozed out towards us, tongues as long as the bodies that held them. For an instant my started comrades recoiled but then Dain Rocksmiter leapt forward axe in hand, his spiritual weapon gleaming in the darkness; brave Buddynock and Halduamina both barely a step behind.

I could have turned these Maw Demons I suppose, but my blood was up, and calling on divine Pallas for aid, I cleaved the second fiend with two swift strokes. Dain battered back the probing tongue with his kite shield and swung his axe with careful skill, querulous Grom calling out each cut. Halduamina and Buddynock faced the last demon together, little Ettel leaping up between them and giving our Rogue the chance to ply his two blades even more dextrously.

I could not restrain my fury. Some twisted fool had either summoned this filth into our world, or corrupted the corpses of the lost and luckless Empress crew. These demons fought with blind disdain for their own hides in their frenzied attempts to tear us apart. We did not pause, we did not once draw breath, we simply slew each fiend, our brisk blades biting deep. There is a time no quarter can be offered or given; some entities do not deserve chivalry and leaving them alive comes at too great a cost. (*)

Dain cast his prayer of healing spell for the third time this day and once again we found our wounds knitting together and our bruises fade. Only the hold was left and we began to retrace our steps back to that curved aft companionway. Yet as we returned down that narrow midships passage, the dying Empress of the Waves gave a sudden lurch as she sank lower in the water. We all struggled to keep our footing, we all rebounded off the cabin walls; but little Buddynock suddenly fell forward onto that rusted grille. We heard the creaking scream of breaking metal, the hatch cover gave way and Buddynock vanished from view, plunging down into the pitch dark hold. We heard a long drawn scream, a heartfelt curse, a sudden splash then silence.

Maw demons come in so many forms but their voracious lust for flesh still never changes.

They devour all life in their path and once absorbed, their dead victims emerge deep in the dread Abyss for digestion of a different sort. Not even merciful death ends the pain inflicted by a Maw Demon.

But “Todger demons” at least according to our insistent Druid.

In all honesty, I cannot really dispute his claim.

(*) “So Dalmas is not fazed by these todger demons?” Buddynock Rubyrubb said afterwards.

“That’s not what he called them,” began Halduamina. “You know Dalmas said-“

“Todger demons is what they are.” Our Druid shuddered. “And that’s a more baby hobbit friendly name than my backup option!”

“Really?” Dain Rocksmiter raised a weary eyebrow.

“Yes! And forget zipping out for any knees up tonight. I’ll be staying in and playing low stakes cribbage for the next few weeks!” said Buddynock wiping his steamed brass goggles.

-9-

I sensed something Undead, something unclear and unknown moving down there in the silent darkness. Buddynock Rubyrubb was alone and facing foes from beyond this life. There was no time to loose, no chance to ponder. I simply stepped into space and fell.

I landed in pitch darkness; I landed in cold waist deep water. Our Forest Gnome friend was scrabbling to stay afloat as I head two more splashes in quick succession as Dain Rocksmiter and Halduamina both leapt in their turn, then our two faithful Driftglobes floated down to join us, casting their warm glow over the waterlogged hold. The magic orle around my helm let me perceive grey shapes and moving shadows but now we could see, now we could truly see!

They rose from under the water for they did not need to breathe. They surged forward from the bows, their deep set eyes gleaming with hunger, their gangrel arms outstretched, their long claws ready to rend and tear. By all the merciful Powers, they were ghouls! One touch from their hands could paralyse and any helpless prey would be eaten alive. I recalled that desperate fight deep in the bowels of lost Phandelver, I remember their frenzied charge and those eager faces and how close we came to meeting our doom.

Halduamina cursed; the string of his crossbow was soaked. Clever Buddynock Rubyrubb swiftly took the form of a giant octopus, his great domed head rising clear of the lapping bilge as wise Dain presented his holy symbol, his deep voice proclaiming the divine words of Marthammor Duin.
Finder-of-Trails^, Watcher over Wanderers^,. For an instant our foes reeled back, for one instant only! A single ghoul fled back to the bows, the other three still rushed forward, hissing with their eagerness to feed.

I called on Grey-Eyed Pallas, Ever Maiden, She who Fights in the Front Rank of the Battle, the owl symbol at my neck gleaming gold in the shadows. Once again, our foul foes were checked, once again our holy words turned their rush, but once again, only some of these ghouls fled, one brute still charged forward his gaunt mouth wide and roaring. What by High Olympos were they?

I carry the Owl and Olive of Pallas Athene at my neck and included on my shield.

I honour family and faith together.

Our crafty cephalopod Druid shot a stream of black ink clouding the water; the charging creature was blinded for a moment; only a moment but still time for Buddynock to grasp it with two tentacles, grappling the ghoul close as our blades bit home.

We served each of the others the same way. They were still turned, still too dismayed to approach but this would not endure for long. We drew their attention one at a time by hurling fragments of wood from sundered crates and broken barrels. Then, as each enraged ghoul charged forward Buddynock swifty seized them with his long tentacles, pining them down as we stabbed. Whether demons or Undead some foes cannot be left walking this scarred earth, the toll they take is just too terrible.

One wore a gem studded belt; well we could use any diamonds to save life not destroy it. Another bore a silver bracelet crafted like an extended forked tongue. I came close to leaving it behind. Dain looked at me. I saw his concern and guessed his question. “Ghasts.” I shook my head sadly. “They must have been. Ghouls resistant to turning.”

“And just as vicious” Dain said sadly. “I know turning undead is never certain, I know that! But all the same, it is still a shock when so many still resisted us!”

I could only nod in response.

We could now guess why that aft hatchway above had been secured with additional oaken bars.

I cannot bear to imagine those final days of the doomed last crew of the Empress of the Waves.

There was nowhere else to search. If the strongbox of Aubrek Drallion was actually still aboard it had to be here. The dancing light of our two Driftglobes played upon the ink-streaked, blood stained water. I was swallowing hard, trying to conceal my fear. The movement of the sea seemed even stronger here, we saw rivulets of water streaming through cracks in the hull, this helpless hulk was doomed and sinking and we were still aboard.

“Time for Detect magic?” suggested Buddynock. “You said this doohickie is enchanted and impossible to open.” (*)

Dain was just about to cast his spell when keen-eyed Halduamina shouted in delight as he saw a heavy wooden crate lodged amidst a sodden mass of flotsam. Each side was branded with the initials AD. My crowbar raised the lid in an instant and inside we saw a sky-blue metal case. It was three feet long at least and utterly featureless apart from a handle either end. There was no sign of any keyhole or even a lid, the case resembled a solid ingot of metal, but this polished steel was still as shining and unblemished as the day it was forged. Even great Herakles might have struggled to shift it, I could barely move the box an inch until Dain gripped the other handle with his enchanted Gauntlets of Ogre Power. We staggered, we sweated but yes, we began to lift the long lost strongbox of Aubrek Drallion.

It was this precise moment the waterlogged, listing Empress of the Waves stopped dead in the water as something huge outside knocked against her rotting hull. We froze, we dared not speak, but then, then we smelt the acrid reek of raw sal ammoniac.

“Don’t look at me!” said Druid Rubyrubb as he abandoned cephalopod form. “I ain’t that scared. Yet!”

The Empress of the Waves lurched, rocked, we heard splintering timber, saw her ruined ribs flexing and crack, saw floods of water bursting into the hold above our heads, saw immense vermillion red tentacles smashing through her wooden hull, rearing above us like striking snakes. We saw great rows of suckers pulsing and tensing, saw them reaching blindly into the hold, reaching for prey.

I cannot comprehend how we did not all go insane that same instant. We felt the stricken ship settle, felt the inrush of waist deep water. Dain and I slipped and fell and stood and fell again, fighting to shift the deadweight of Drallion’s strongbox to that vertical ladder at the aft hatch. Halduamina dodged one tentacle then darted up the ladder, checking the galley above was clear, little Buddynock was paddling like a puppy for a few feet then he was also climbing the rungs. I dared not look behind me, I could not even glance, for those huge probing tentacles were constantly feeling their way through the hold, we saw one snatch up two dead Ghasts and withdraw, only to see two more giant tentacles taking its place. We could hear timber shattering on the decks above, swarms of tiny spiders were scuttling in panic, the entire Empress had been seized by this gargantuan creature.

(*) We had all been warned, Aubrek Drallion had explained matters so clearly. This enchanted strongbox could not be opened by any natural or eldritch means. The lid could only be raised with a single mystic word of command that only he knew.

All the same, why did I just know our Half Elf Rogue was still itching to unroll his pouch of lock picks and our Forest Gnome Druid dearly wanted to cast the Knock spell held within his Ring of Protection.

Some days I could only wonder why I still lacked a noble squire and picked retainers!

-10-

Dain Rocksmiter was on the rungs now, clinging one handed to that swaying ladder as he kept his determined grip on Drallion’s strongbox. I bore the huge weight on my shoulders as I forced myself up the ladder. I glimpsed little Buddynock reaching down through the hatchway to help us, I felt the cold clammy touch of one tentacle as it brushed against me and then the box was moving again, as the dying ship rolled in our favour, then Dain was up and through that hatch, and had both hands free to help me as that tentacle blindly seized the ladder beneath my feet and we somehow, slowly heaved that strongbox onto the deck above. We were gasping for breath, retching, choking but we had no moment to lose. We felt Empress of the Waves sinking deeper into the sea, she was doomed, she was going; that tentacled monstrosity was dragging us under. As we glanced back, we saw sea water already lapping at the hatch we had just climbed through. There was just that winding companionway and we would be on deck and under the open sky.

“But how do we escape?” asked Halduamina. “This is insane.”

“Remember what the Svarstaag wizards said,“ grunted Dain, bent double over that infernal deadweight filling our hands. “Place one bag of holding within another and everything within ten foot is transported into the Astral plane.”

“That’s our way out?” Buddynock Rubyrubb gaped with horror. “That?”

The tips of each tentacle were as thick as my arms, the rest of the upper tentacles were as wide as my waist.

Divine Poseidon alone knew how huge this monstrous octopus was.

“Is this a Kraken?” I stared helplessly as the huge beast dragged our battered ship down.

“Oh no,” Buddynock Rubyrubb looked sick with shock and half dead from horror.

“A full grown Kraken would make this beastie look like some paddling pool toy!”

“Maybe the only way,” Dain grimaced. “But no guarantees we would ever return.”

“And our quest remains, “ I fought for breath as I spoke. “So that remains our very last resort.”

“You can’t imagine those two sailors will still be afloat and waiting for us?” gasped Halduamina.

“Why not? They are dwarfs after all,” I said calmly and I saw the surge of pride in Dain’s brown eyes. “We have to hope. That is all we have now. Hope!”

“And trusting we have honed hopscotch skills!” shouted Buddynock. “Watch it, that rubbery bastard is whiffling our way again!”

We saw those terrible suckers wrench stout oak timbers apart,

we watched those tentacles plucking bodies up into the sky like ripped rag dolls.

We only glimpsed the entire octopus. That was indeed a mercy.

An eager tentacle smashed up through the planks beneath us, we heard a rending crash from above as the stump of the main mast was ripped away. Lithe Halduamina barely managed to pull himself clear of those blind and hungry suckers. Breaking timbers were screaming all around us, we heard the rush of water below, then howling cries drawing ever closer. We had no time to think, we did not realise at first. This monstrous octopus never made a single sound. Light dawned as I saw them, more Maw Demons scrambling up the same ladder we had just climbed.

“Fiends!” I bawled, dropping the strongbox and unsheathing sharp Talon as I leapt back for the hatch, floundering badly in the rising water.

“No!” screamed Halduamina as Dain Rocksmiter staggered and fell under the weight, the box sliding back down the canting deck. I cut savagely at the climbing demon, its sphincter head gnashing at my feet, its questing tongue trying to curl around my legs. It could not move, could not defend itself, my sword cuts struck the head from its body but the fiends below still fought to scale the ladder and attack.

My desperate friends were struggling to drag the strongbox and poor Dain was purple in the face from the effort, but slight Halduamina and little Buddynock could do little to help. “Dalmas? Dumbass more like!” shouted our exasperated Gnomish Druid.

I saw a tentacle pluck one of the Maw Demons from the hold as I slammed the hatch shut. Long claws immediately ripped at the timbers but I still waded back to the strongbox and shouldered my share of the burden once again. The dying ship was heeling hard over now and the rising water was now about our knees. Empress of the Waves reeled and rolled as the colossal octopus redoubled its efforts tearing through the timbers in search of prey.

Our ship was sinking around us. Dain and I staggered up the winding companion way back to the captain’s cabin. Swarms of terrified tiny spiders raced from side to side. Six tentacles waved above us on either side of the Empress of the Waves. One swept down and sent Halduamina sprawling but our nimble Rogue was back on his feet in an instant, his long blades driving the huge tentacle away … at least for this moment.

Two Maw demons still charged towards us, but their reckless pursuit only drew attention. A tentacle curled then lashed out, one fiend was seized and raised high into the air kicking and screaming, for a few moments it hung there helpless, then the frenzied demon was suddenly dragged down to that waiting mouth beneath the waves. Another tentacle curled around the head of the final Maw Demon, this blinded fiend resisted, reaming the soft red flesh with its long claws. For a moment the demon just hung there, then a second mighty tentacle seized its feet. They paused, strained and pulled, but in opposite directions. The result was memorable and thankfully not directly above our heads.

Our last moments of life were running like sand in an hour glass. Everything was happening so swiftly. I had no real plan beyond fighting a path to the open deck, the ship was going down, those demons were trying to rip out our throats and an octopus the size of a small barbican was intent on feeding off our flesh. The deck we had just escaped was completely flooded; we were out on the stern castle now and salt water was already swirling around our ankles. We had nowhere else to go and that damned long strongbox was a deadweight in our hands. Then keen-eyed Halduamina shouted in delight and disbelief, his face incredulous as he bellowed: “They’re coming! Those two mad fools are still rowing towards us!”

Even nimble Halduamina Half Elven struggled to keep his footing as our dying ship was ripped apart around us.

“Don’t wait!” Dain Rocksmiter shouted; his stocky legs locked against the increasing angle of the ship. “Buddynock now! Your walk on water spell, cast it now! We can run out to meet them. Hurry!”

Our Druid nodded and raised his carved oak totem, chanting the sacred words to divine Sylvanus. For an instant I felt myself rising, felt my leather boots standing atop the sea water flooding the deck. For a moment only. We heard a gurgling guttural shout from the middeck hatchway, saw the gashed and bleeding head of Krell the Half Orc glaring in triumph as his counter spell severed Buddynock’s desperate magic like a scythe cutting corn. Our feet sank back into the water as Krell screamed in triumph. The dying Half Orc fell back, his huge hands still gripping the coaming around the hatch. Druid Krell was still trying to pull himself out of deck to attack us again when a tentacle found him.

No faithful hippocampus waited alongside the dying ship. My celestial steed Boreas must have been dispelled by the giant octopus and I failed to notice in all the hurly burly and horror. We felt a bump, saw two anxious bearded faces looking for us. At least there was no real distance to drop now and we piled into that little jolly boat with frantic haste, dragging that cumbersome treasure with us. Baern and Oleric braced their oars against the sinking Empress of the Waves, Halduamina and I had our long arms pressed against that battered hull too. Just below us lurked that terrible creature, just below us, and those writhing tentacles still soared into the sky higher than a castle rampart as they blindly groped and searched and hunted for further meat aboard this dying ship.

No language has words fine enough to praise the cold courage of Baern Frostbeard and Oleric Battlehammer who saw the extreme peril ahead yet still, STILL, rowed ONWARD to snatch us to safety!

We owe them our lives; we owe them everything.

Down, far below our keel we glimpsed our monstrous foe, saw those two remorseless eyes staring back: eyes alive with intelligence, implacable and cold; eyes without mercy, a creature which only wished to feed.

And then we saw more, then we saw worse: the jagged sigil

of Blind Tharizdun, Lord of Chaos and Death glowing within the creature’s flesh.

This was no chance encounter!

-11-

I recall little of our escape from the sinking Empress of the Waves. Doughty Baern Frostbeard and Oleric Battlehammer pulled so hard on their sweeps I am surprised the shafts did not break in their brawny hands. There were no additional oars and no spare space at the rowing benches. We simply knelt in the bilges and frantically paddled with our hands, something, anything to help speed us along. I believe Buddynock Rubyrubb would have taken the form of a great armed bear if there had been any more room in the tiny boat.

Escape still seemed impossible. We dared not look down again, or glance back. Surely that monstrous entity would see us. Surely our small boat would suddenly be overturned from below. Surely some towering red tentacle would suddenly rise up alongside us, great suckers opening and clenching before smashing down and sending us to the bottom. We had all glimpsed those two huge glowing eyes deep beneath us and seen that great gnashing beak open and close. And yet, and yet our tiny craft still made good the distance as we slowly inched our way to safety. This colossal octopus clearly believed more prey lurked within the larger ship.

We were all utterly exhausted, all near dropping with fatigue and then we heard a hail, and looked up to see the bluff bows of that Dwarven cog gliding towards us. Lines were lowered from the Soul of Winter and all six of us and that damned strongbox were swiftly hoisted aboard, the little jolly boat too as we all collapsed on the main deck, fighting for breath.

If this Titan of the Deep had not been so intent on prey within the largest prize, we would all be dead.

That truth is stark and clear, all our hopes and striving, our toil and valour, were almost all for naught .

This Elder octopus was more colossal than anything I could have imagined, a creature so huge and utterly terrifying and yet, AND YET, Druid Rubyrubb still assures us a Kraken is far, far bigger.

Such creatures tear at our minds and sanity, they place our very concept of the world under siege.

I wish I was far from this sea; I wish I could spend my life in water barely deep enough to wet my toes!

Captain Wolgar Windrune ordered his helm hard about and Soul of Winter’s mainsail bellied in the freshening breeze. We were heading away from home, but what did that matter providing we were evading that hulking terror of the Deeps. Poor Buddynock Rubyrubb was so spent he staggered when he stood, but our valiant Druid still lurched his way to the stern and facing forrard began casting his Gust of Wind spells, each enchantment speeding our sturdy cog onward. If Buddynock had cast no spells aboard Empress of the Waves he more than made up for that now! Seven times he summoned a magic gust of wind and for seven minutes Soul of Winter drove hard across that rolling ocean. Our Druid had a pair of spell scrolls too but there was no need to use them, no need at all; the luckless Empress of the Waves was soon left far behind.

Our Captain set course for Saltmarsh as soon as chance allowed. I am sure his crew were eyeing our prize, and for a few horrible hours I feared we might face a mutiny but these gallant dwarvish sailors knew the reality of Sahuagin raiders all too clearly. The rumours and scuttlebutt had run fast and loud. If this strongbox held a weapon which might defeat the Sahuagin, these dwarves clearly wanted it wielded well. I have no words to express my thanks and gratitude, I realised the strongbox of Aubreck Drallion would remain safe with us until we reached the shore.

Indeed, we all had a stark reminder of the fatal consequences should the citizens of Saltmarsh and Keoland fight amongst themselves. We had a stark reminder and a terrifying insight into the sheer power and threat of our Sahuagin foes. A cry from the masthead and a staccato drum beating the crew to quarters, brought us all rushing on deck with the off duty watch, drawing weapons and donning helmets as we ran.

At first, we could not be sure but the frantic lookout shouted again and we followed his pointing hand. We still struggled to make sense of what we saw far off in the distance, then realised we beheld the six foot dorsal fin of another fearsome Megalodon gliding through the ocean. We stared intently, unable to comprehend what we saw until Captain Windrune passed his precious spyglass.

We had all heard those sailors’ tales. We understood Sahuagin shared a special bond with sharks, using those great fish as weapons in battle or as sentries guarding their lairs, yet we never in this life expected to witness a score of standing Sahuagin riding the bare back of a huge Megalodon! Once again Buddynock Rubyrubb cast his Gust of Wind spell seven times, to speed our small ship clear of the enemy. They pursued at first, but then abandoned the chase when they could not close the distance. Captain Windrune ordered every inch of canvas onto the spars and Dain Rocksmiter stood ready with his mending cantrip in case any of the sails was ripped or damaged by the wind. I do not want to imagine our fate if we had encountered these savage foes while our ship was becalmed! We had escaped again, but I shuddered to imagine the implications of our discovery.

I am simply grateful the last few days sailing passed without incident. We rested and recovered, talking when we chose, but each of us still spent many hours locked within our own thoughts. We all realised just how closely we had come to our deaths.

“That beastie which attacked us,” said Buddynock Rubyrubb. “It was clearly an Elder octopus, a colossal monster but still an octopus. So why the smell of ammonia? Squids pong like an unloved lavvy but not octopuses.”

“You remember its eyes,” I asked, desperately trying to keep my voice calm. “I think Blind Tharizdun wields greater powers than we bargained for, I think his influence was horribly clear!”

“So precise taxonomy doesn’t matter?” asked our Druid.

“No, not quite in this case.” sighed Cleric Dain.

“So that Half Orc Krell was definitely a Druid?” asked Halduamina.

“Sort of, I suppose.” By the Dog, our Buddynock Rubyrubb was actually sounding shifty.

“The maniacal cackling and filthy robes rather made it obvious,” Dain Rocksmiter smiled wryly.

“That and the mastery of such elemental spells!” It was hard to tell if our Gnomish Druid sounded proud or aggrieved or both!

“Could you cast that sphere of fire then?” said Halduamina.

“Suppose so. If I chose to,” Buddynock smiled.

“I just never knew Druids could use a counterspell.” I was not trying to be contentious; I was truly surprised and eager to know.

“I’m not sure they honestly can,” said Buddynock. “In all honesty I think Druid Krell could be described as … well …. a bit naughty!”

“For a Druid?” sighed Dain.

“Definitely!” Buddynock’s long green hood shook as he nodded. “And not in a get legless and sing naughty songs after last orders, about drinking down the moon and cuckoo’s nests!”

I have never been so glad to stand upon a stone quayside again. Never! Our meeting at the Saltmarsh Guildhall certainly took precedence over any planned council business that day. Aubrek Drallion burst through the double doors like an angry golem, his hulking butler hard on his heels. I don’t think our client truly believed we had succeeded until he actually saw his strongbox standing before him.

Aubrek Drallion knelt down his hands trembling. We all heard the password he uttered: “Tildivarias.” He smiled wistfully, for an instant he almost appeared shy. “My childhood dog.”

At long last, the magic strongbox lay open before us. We saw densely packed layers of papers, each bundle wrapped in waterproof binding and stout bags of spilled platinum coin, we saw six clear vials holding viscous scarlet fluid, twelve harpoons and a long silvered trident bedecked with a green gemstone and engraved with a curving dolphin, the shaft and prongs gleaming in the lamplight like some ancient dragon’s hoard.

The Bane of Sekolah

“The Bane of Sekolah,” said a deep voice behind us. There in the doorway, clad in his long robes and red silk turban stood Keledek the Unspoken; the austere wizard of Saltmarsh had actually left his tall tower to join us! We were certainly not alone in our surprise. Dapper Gellan Primewater swiftly exuded his usual careful charm, but his fellow four counsellors were clearly all too startled to answer, bluff Eliander Fireborn particularly.

Keledek the Unspoken’s slow words came like heavy stones dropped down into a deep well, when you wait and wait and give up convinced they must have already landed unheard, but then you hear a tiny splash at the very edge of sound. “The Bane of Sekolah, forged by Aquan Elves against their greatest enemies. Any shark or Sahuagin wounded by this trident forgets all thirst for blood. The Sharkfin harpoons are also enchanted, when lodged firmly they serve the same purpose.”

“You are sure, quite sure?” Grey-haired Eda Oweland, swore with sheer delight and she was now leaning forward in her eagerness. “My crews have seen too many shipmates ripped apart by these Sea Devils. Are you sure? Truly?”

Silent Keledek shot her a withering glance worthy of a medusa. “Any fool can possess a power. It takes a wise mind to wield it well.”

“Of course, of course!” Gellan Primewater beamed through his gilt monocle as he motioned Eda Oweland to be silent. “I can assure you most sage Keledek every citizen here knows and respects your sage and most puissant powers. May I, if I can be so bold, may I also request your expert opinion on these vials of red liquid?”

Keledek the Unspoken was already stalking towards the door, his back straight as a pike shaft, his tall red turban brushing the carved lintel. He did not trouble to turn his head but we heard his final words all the same. “Thickblood serum. A potion which also prevents assailants going into a blood frenzy. Requires weed gathered from Cove Reef.”

Silence fell upon the Saltmarsh Council Chamber; silence and grim smiles upon the faces of these beleaguered citizens.

“Even money we get asked to go gardening at this Cove Reef,” Halduamina whispered to Buddynock.

“But only after this celebratory booze up on Gellan Primewater’s personal pleasure ship!” beamed Buddynock. “Time to pack a backup corkscrew unless you want me to demonstrate sabrage with my scimitar again!”

“After last time?” Dain Rocksmiter shook his head.

“Wasn’t really my fault,” said Buddynock once again. “Wasn’t my fault those three taverns alkl clearly had dodgy bottles. Blaming me for getting us barred each time! Just because a couple of landlords got a face full of froth ‘n suds. I still say they overreacted!”

There is little left to say. Aubrek Drallion had indeed recovered his lost fortune in promissory notes and letters of credit. I am glad to report he proved true to his word and paid us a tenth value for our services, as well as providing a rich bonus to all the surviving crew of Soul of Winter and the dependents of the eight sailors slain by the Sahuagin. And yes, Gellan Primewater had requested our company aboard his personal pleasure craft for a ceremonial banquet. We had much to accomplish but one night’s rest from our ordeal would be a blessing and this might surely lead to greater understanding and cooperation from the leading citizens of Saltmarsh.

Each of us prepared as best we might. I was simply grateful for the foresight Dain and I had shown when buying our full plate harness in far off Svarstaag. Our cuirasses were ornamented in modest but fine fashion, so wearing them to a ceremonial dinner would scarcely cause undue offence. I will follow just laws and fair conventions as far as possible but after my experiences on the Keoland Coast I was simply grateful for all the appropriate safeguards I could muster!

BEING an END to BOOK XVI

We received ten thousand gold pieces from grateful Aubrek Drallion, and the additional treasure we recovered from the Empress of the Waves brought us each a total of 2,894 crowns. After discussion we each presented valiant Baern Frostbeard and Oleric Battlehammer with a thousand in gold apiece, enough for them to buy their own small ship or live in comfort for near seventy years. We knew how much we owed both dwarves, anything less would have been churlish indeed.

The Empress of the Waves rested deep on the ocean floor now, but we had recovered more than Aubrek Drallion’s enchanted strongbox and our trophies were distributed to those who needed them most.

Cloak of Protection to Halduamina

Potion of Healing to Halduamina

Potion of Heroism to Dain Rocksmiter

Potion of Water breathing to Buddynock Rubyrubb

Scroll: Gust of Wind to Buddynock Rubyrubb

Scroll: Protection from Poison to Cadan Dalmas

Down these mean dungeons a Paladin must go, who is not himself mean but hopefully rolls some 20's!

Sunday, 16 February 2025

Book XVI - An Empress' Salvage

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