As of 5/11/98
Previous Turns for
Introduction
The next morning, just after they had broken their fast, Kale Lightweaver, Yaran Tashimato, and Byric Lugh made their way through the quiet streets of Watersmeet to the harbor district. The fog was thick that morning, and the three young adventurers had a time of it trying to locate dock eight. Eventually, after dropping two crons into the hand of a dirty street urchin, the three were led across the harbor to dock eight. To their surprise, the three young adventurers found more than just a ship waiting for them there.
"Always hated the mornings," Jerrie Two-Toes said in greetings to Kale, Yaran, and Byric. "Especially the foggy ones. Can't see who's around the next corner."
"Afraid you'll bump into someone you don't know?" Kale asked with a smile, tossing a wink down at his old Havanathe friend.
"When you get to know as many people as I do, bumping into someone you don't know becomes a real concern," Jerrie replied, glancing around the dock. Off in the distance the faint sound of a bell could be heard, followed by a muffled cry. "The harbor district is waking up," the Havanathe said. "We'd better get you three on board."
"On board what?" Yaran asked, scanning what he could see of the dock through the thick blanket of fog.
"The Flying Dragon, lad," an authoritative voice said from somewhere deep in the fog, off to the group's right.
Jerrie jumped, letting out a giggle that sounded only slightly nervous. "Jayes, you old sea lion," Jerrie said to the figure slowly emerging from within the fog. "Always knocking more years off my life. I'm running out, you know."
"You've got another good fifty," the man named Jayes replied, the fog sweeping around behind him as he moved up to Jerrie, shaking the Havanathe's stubby hand. "Good to see you again, my friend." Seeming to be very well-spoken, Jayes stood a bit over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a surprisingly slender waist. His eyes were young, as was his smile, and only the smattering of gray in his otherwise rich, black hair and beard put him at forty, maybe forty-five. A black, wool coat that dropped down to his knees covered a cream tunic and brown, wool pants, the cuffs of which were tucked into thick, well-worn boots. The man wore the black coat open and pushed off to either side, his large hands resting comfortably on the hilts of a broad sword and dagger. "These be the lads you spoke of then?" Jayes asked Jerrie, nodding his head toward Kale, Yaran, and Byric.
"The hope of the Kingdom, they are," Jerrie replied with a large smile, slapping Byric on the lower back. "This here is Byric Lugh, Kale Lightweaver, and Yaran Tashimato."
Jayes eyes narrowed slightly on Yaran. "Tashimato, eh? Sounds Zambarian."
"Torresanian Zambarian," Jerrie said quickly. "Don't worry, my friend. He'll not be sinking any of your ships this year."
A soft growl rolled off Jayes's throat. "Only if you say so, Jerrie."
The Havanathe's head bobbed quickly. "I do, I do. Lads, this bull of a man standing before you is Raehofer Jayes, Captain of the Flying Dragon, one of the fastest merchant clippers in the Sea of Sorrow."
"You forgot to mention the Sea of Heredia and the Vast Sea beyond," Jayes said, tipping his head slightly. "I've raced against Heredian sea lions and won; I've raced against blood-thirsty Zambarian pirates, as well as them blokes from Straney's Light, and won; hell, I've even raced against a bastard of a red dragon once."
"And won?" Yaran asked.
"No. Damn thing burned my ship and crew."
"Oh."
"Yes, well." Jayes turned slowly, his eyes still on the three young adventurers. "You best be saying your good-byes to ole Jerrie Two-Toes and climb on board the Dragon. The long boats are waiting to tug us out, and I'd like to be at Sunak before dinner." With that, Captain Raehofer Jayes disappeared back into the fog.
"I guess that's our cue," Byric said, offering Jerrie his hand.
"A few words, lads, before you go," Jerrie said as he shook the hand of Byric first, and then Yaran and Kale. "As I said back in Freeman's End, and as Lucky Thome told you yesterday, there's quite a bit of treasure to be had on Sunak Island, or so the rumors say. Whatever you find, you keep. But remember that you're going over there for more than just treasure-hunting. Find out what you can about the Ortemier family and the red dragon on Jivana; I've got a feeling that there's more going on than meets the eye. Also remember that there have been others who have gone off to Sunak before you, and never returned. Now, I'm not saying that they're dead; they could be looting the place for all it's worth. Just watch your backs when you get there."
"What about that cleric in Freeman's End?" Byric asked. "You haven't said anything about him."
"By all accounts, he's dead," Jerrie explained. "Three days after you lads left, the governor of Freeman's End sent word to King de Angelosis that they were having some problems with a cleric trying to stop expeditions to Sunak. Two days after that, six Grand-Mages from Oesch-Onarga arrived in Freeman's End. Trust me, lads, he's dead."
"Question, Jerrie," Kale said.
"The final one, lad, and then you must be off."
"What would King de Angelosis care about what happens on Sunak? It's not within the border of Langington or Miaford."
Jerrie paused for a moment before leaning in slightly, his voice but a whisper. "About fifteen days back, I sent off ten men from Gideon who claimed they were just mercenaries looking to get rich. But when you've been around as long as I, you can tell the different between mercenaries and royals."
"Royals?" Yaran asked.
"From de Angelosis's Royal Order of Intelligence, I'd imagine," Jerrie explained. "Now, I know that the King wouldn't spare men from the R.O.I. unless it was something very, very important. You might run into these men on Sunak; you'll recognize them from a small tattoo they all had on their hands that looked to be a heart crossed with two swords."
"An old Langington crest," Kale said.
Jerrie nodded his head at the young fighter. Slapping his hands together, Jerrie said, "And now you three are off! May the gods be your guides on this most joyous of adventures. I'll keep a table clear at The Hearty Halfling for when you return, with piping hot lamb stew and some dragonberry pie for the afters. Good luck, lads! And good journey!"
She was twelve feet past two-hundred, built along the same design of the older suedorran pirate-chasers. With sails raised and full, a sleek sloop or clipper ship could make the trip from Watersmeet to Sunak Island in little less than a full day's time. The Flying Dragon, on the other hand, could make the trip in the time between morning's fast and the mid-day meal.
The Dragon, as the crew called her, was a three-mast merchant clipper, modified to cut the waters of the Seas of Sorrow and Heredia better than most warships in the navies of Jordyen and Aarenki, let alone the ships in the rumored pirate fleets of Straney's Light. With a crew of 104 and commanded by Captain Raehofer Jayes, she was the prize of every coastal city in Western Glashia, hauling cargo and treasures most other captains wouldn't dream of loading. But as Dirion reached its highest point in the mid-day sky, and as the Dragon dropper her anchors off the eastern coast of Sunak Island, the only cargo she carried that day were three silent adventurers.
"There's the boat house," Captain Jayes said to Kale, Yaran, and Byric as he pointing to a dilapidated structure build along the coast of the small island. The three young adventurers had seen it as the Dragon had approached the island, as well as what looked to be the manor of the Ortemier family beyond. "Lower the long boat!" Jayes ordered his crew, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "This was a fine port of call at one time."
"Not much of anything now," Yaran said.
"Nothing but the manor on the island, mind you," Jayes continued, ignoring Yaran's comment. "And the temple beyond. But the Ortemier were a right friendly bunch of folks; the best in these waters, if you were to ask me."
"You said something about a temple?" Byric asked.
"Dedicated to Jaterran," Jayes replied, his head nodding slowly. "Yes, it was a fine place." A long moment of silence passed before one of Jayes's men informed the Captain that the long boat had been lowered and the rowing party was awaiting their passengers. "You're off, then." Jayes walked Kale, Yaran, and Byric over to the far rail, watching as the three made their way down to the long boat below. "I'll be back in five day's time, "Jayes said when the three were secure in the long boat. "If I don't see you out by the boat house, I'll wait for a day. If you're not out by then, I'm leaving and won't be back for another tenday, if you're lucky. So-"
"Be out by the boat house in five days," Yaran said, finishing the Captain's sentence.
"You must be the brains of the operation," Jayes snorted, his sarcasm dripping down upon Yaran's head. "Good luck, boys. And if the gods are willing and able, I'll see you in five days."
The long boat was pushed away from the Flying Dragon, with the four rowers quickly dipping their oars into the water. As the long boat drew closer to the boat house, the three young adventurers could see what appeared to be a smaller ship wrecked up on land, just to the right of the boat house. "That's new," one of the rowers commented, nudging his head toward the wrecked ship.
The boat house itself wasn't in much better of condition: the fifty-some feet of outer wall that enclosed two rooting piers was falling apart, as was the over-hanging roof. The longer of the two piers, although rather ominous looking, was where the rowers decided to drop off their three passengers. With a "Good journey," the rowers were on their way back to the Dragon.
"What a smell," Kale commented, pinching together his nostrils as he gazed over his surroundings. Tiny waves slapped against the piers and the shore beyond, creating an eerie churning sound. At the head of the long pier was a large pile of rubbish, or what looked to be rubbish from where the Kale, Yaran, and Byric were standing. "Well, my friends," Kale said, looking from Byric to Yaran. "How should we proceed?"
Turn 1
"We had better get off this dock before it dumps us into the sea," Byric said to his companions as they gathered their gear. But Yaran, as excitable as ever, raced past Byric and Kale and up the length of the long dock. The Zambarian wild mage stopped short in front of a large pile of rubbish, comprised mostly of seaweed and bits of drift wood. Byric glanced at Kale, who could only offer a shrug of his shoulders before walking past the cleric-ranger and up the dock. Shouldering his long bow, Byric switched his spear to his right hand as he followed the notannes warrior toward the boat house, the rotten wood of the dock creaking with each step, making him glad he knew how to swim, and hoping that he wouldn't have to. When he reached the head of the dock, Yaran and Kale were already examining the pile of rubbish.
"Whew!" Kale exclaimed, swiping his hand in front of his nose as he took in shallow breaths. His brow furrowed slightly as he strained his senses for any trace of enchantment in the surrounding area, but to no avail. As Yaran wrapped his hand around what appeared to be the hilt of a sword covered with seaweed and rust, Kale dropped his hand on the Zambarian's shoulder. Slipping Silverblade free from its hilt, the young fighter began to poke around the rubbish with his sword. "You can never be too sure," he explained to Yaran.
As Kale poked around the rubbish with his enchanted sword, surely causing the smithy of such a fine weapon to turn over twice in his grave, Byric stepped off to Kale's left as he scanned the area. At first glance, Byric had missed the door positioned in the center of the long back wall, for it was caked with years of dirt and debris, as were the other walls and roof overhead. A look of concentration slipped across his tanned face as Byric checked for any signs of recent traffic or habitation, coming up short.
"Strange that trash should be piled so neatly ahead of us when the rest of the beach appeared clean," Kale commented as he continued to prod the large pile of rubbish before him. Suddenly, a strange vibration seemed to bleed from the hilt of Silverblade and into Kale's hand.
"Well, I'd like to see about the boat wreck over there," Yaran said as he gave the hilt another tug. "What'd you say, Kale? By--" His words were cut short as a skeletal hand shot out from under the rubbish, wrapping around Yaran's wrist. As the Zambarian wild mage stumbled backwards slightly, the large pile of seaweed and drift wood shifted, and then was lifted, toppling over to one side. In its place stood a skeleton, a member of the undead and surely an enemy to all with a heartbeat!
Byric was the first to react. As the cleric-ranger spun quickly to face the undead creature, he thrust his spear into the boards of the dock. His hands free, Byric grasped the silver holy medallion hanging around his neck with his right hand, gesturing toward the skeleton with his left. At the same time, Kale wrenched Silverblade upwards, the fighter's eyes locked on the arm that had had a hold of Yaran. As Kale's enchanted blade sliced through the air toward the skeleton, Byric chanted a phrase that sent chills racing down the exposed spine of the skeleton: "Back to the grave for which you were meant, and trouble the living no more! Kallissa compels you!"
The skeleton's reaction was instantaneous. As the last of Byric's words slipped off his tongue, the skeleton stepped to its left in hopes of finding an escape. Kale's magical sword was there in time to stop it; hoping to remove the skeleton's bony arm that was stretched out toward Yaran, Silverblade sliced through the skeleton's upper spine, removing its head instead.
"Yeow!" Yaran exclaimed as the skeleton's severed head bounced off his own. As the Zambarian wild mage picked himself up off the floor of the dock, Kale began to skatter the rest of the skeleton's bones across the dock and in the water. "Somebody doesn't want anyone poking around here," Kale commented as he gave the toppled pile of rubbish a few more stabs with Silverblade. Satisfied that all was as it should be, Kale reached down for the sword that Yaran had originally gone for, finding the blade completely rusted over and beyond repair.
"Didn't I say something about that boat wreck?" Yaran asked his two companion as he brushed dried seaweed and tiny bits of bone off his robe.
Byric released his grip on the silver medallion and retrieved his spear, glancing around the dock area one more time. "It looks like there's only one way out of here," the cleric-ranger said to the others, gesturing toward the solid wood door on his left, its knob rusted over. "Unless you two want to jump off the end of the dock and swim around the boat house to the beach beyond."
Kale shook his head. "Nope, I don't quite fancy a swim at this hour, thank you," he chuckled, stepping toward the door.
Yaran moved up behind him, shuddering slightly. "And in that freezing water, ugh!"
"Well, my friends," Byric said, turning to retrieve his weapons. "Let us see what awaits us beyond this portal. If that skeleton is the worse threat we see on this journey then we will be truly blessed." With a swift tug, the cleric-ranger pulled the razor-sharp spear head free of the splintered wood and moved to join Kale and Yaran by the door. As Kale reached for the rusted door knob, Byric glanced down at one the of the skeleton's bones and said softly, "Blessed . . . indeed. We will inevitably encounter things much more vile and dangerous." He turned his gaze upon his two companions. "I just hope we are ready, for we will need all our wits about us if we are to survive. Something happened to those previous expeditions, and some how I doubt it was a lone skeleton."
"Agreed," Kale said as he gave the wooden door a swift yank. The door swung open with little effort, the hinges, rusted moreso than the door knob, squeaking madly. Slowly, Kale glanced through the doorway and into the room beyond, his eyes popping like wine corks at the sight before him. Near a second door, positioned on the opposite wall and some ways into the room, sat a grotesquely disfigured man tearing with his teeth at what looked like a human arm.
"So, whatdaya think?" Yaran asked from behind Kale. "If there's a skeleton protectin' this area, there's treasure to be found, eh?"
As the creature looked up at Kale and spat out a chunk of bloody flesh, grunting something that sounded like "brains," Kale glanced over his shoulder at the Zambarian wild mage. Motioning with his hand toward Yaran, Kale leaned to the left slightly so that his companion could peer into the room. Aside from the toppled desk and pair of chairs, and the broken window across from the open doorway, Yaran saw nothing out of the ordinary. That was until the sight of the grotesque figure slowly getting to its feet caught his eye. Yaran swallowed hard, watching as the creature slid its right foot across the wood floor and stepped with its left, advancing slowly toward the three young adventurers.
Byric placed a hand on Kale's shoulder. "My friend, allow me," the cleric-ranger said as he positioned himself within the open doorway. "There will undoubtedly be other foes for which we will need the strength of your sword arm. For now, allow the power of the Goddess to aid us." Byric set his gaze upon the slowly advancing zombie. "This is an unholy abomination which is unworthly of our steel and blood. Let it face the unholy truth of nature," Byric said, his voice becoming louder as he grasped his medallion with one hand and stretched out the other toward the undead creature, "and realize it's own wretchedness!" Time seemed to stop for the three young adventurers as Kale and Yaran remained frozen, anticipating the zombie's frightened retreat. However, with the zombie seeming to brush aside Byric's turning, the three companions knew that not every undead creature was alike.
"By the power . . . " Byric grumbled to himself as he shrugged his bow down his arm, retrieving an arrow from its quiver and nocking it quickly. With a fluid motion, Byric brought the bow up, pulled back on the string, and shot the arrow at the zombie. The first arrow missed the undead creature's head by mere fingerlengths, while the second found a home within its chest. The zombie, however, continued its advanced, albeit moving slightly slower.
Yaran backed away from the door as Kale slipped Silverblade free from its sheath, the enchanted weapon seeming to vibrate more and more as the zombie moved closer. "Disgusting!" Yaran belted out as a gentle breeze blew from within the chamber, sending out a wave of undead stench. "I'd much prefer a living enemy; this doesn't even deserve to be called a creature."
Byric stepped to the left of the doorway and Kale stepped to the right, the young fighter bringing up his magical blade for an overhand strike. As the zombie stepped through the doorway, its hollowed sockets locked on Yaran, Kale brought Silverblade crashing down on the undead creature. Yaran was reminded of a warm knife cutting through a block of butter as he watched Silverblade slice through the zombie's upper torso, cutting cleanly from its left shoulder, down across its chest, and through to its left midsection. The creature suddenly stopped its advance and glanced down at the thick line of black ooze forming across its body. A moment later, the zombie split in two, the top half falling back into the chamber while the bottom toppled to the right, rolled over three times, and plunged into the churning waters of the Sea of Sorrow.
"Impressive," Byric said to Kale as the cleric-ranger glanced back into the chamber. The top half of the zombie was motionless upon the floor, the undead power that had been flowing through its body apparently gone. Within the room, Byric saw some toppled furniture, a broken window, a second door on the opposite wall, and what appeared to be golden coins strewn about the floor.
Silverblade continued to vibrate as bits of rotten flesh and black gore dripped off the enchanted blade. After a moment, the weapon grew still, the lustrous silvery sheen returning to the blade. Satisfied that, for the moment, the danger had passed, Kale stuck his head through the doorway and glanced around the room before returning Silverblade to its scabbard. "Why do I get the feeling that we'll be seeing more of these undead beings?" the young fighter muttered as he slowly entered the room.
"Because we're not that lucky," Byric replied, reaching into a fold of his tunic and producing a long leather strap knotted at both ends. With a practiced, fluid motion, Byric lashed the cord to his spear and slung the weapon across his back. As the cleric-ranger nocked another arrow across his bow, he followed Kale into the chamber.
Kale walked across the small room, taking in the surroundings quickly: several broken and toppled chairs, a toppled desk, a few coins, and some smashed crates, not to mention the remains of an arm that had been the main course of a zombie's dinner only moments before. The young fighter glanced out the broken window before trying the second door. With a chilling creak, the door swung open slowly. As Kale turned to check on the coins he had seen earlier, Yaran slipped through the doorway from the dock area, practically tumbling across the chamber's floor as he went for the coins.
"Oops," Yaran grunted as he scooped up nine coins in all. The Zambarian wild mage bit down on one of the coins to test its worth. Finding it to be a true golden cron, Yaran said, "Well, this is a lucky reward." Yaran then looked down at the severed arm. "I do believe that these weren't his," he said, gesturing toward the lone limb, "so no one would mind if we take them, eh?"
Byric walked past Yaran and Kale and glanced out the second door. To the north, Byric could see the small wrecked ship the three companions had spotted upon their arrival. A dirt road, appearing to have been maintained at one time but now overgrown with weeds, led from the door and up a small hill, cutting through a thick meadow of tall grass and disappearing over the top of the hill. In the distance, Byric could make out what looked like a stone wall and a dark iron gate. "That must be the manor house," he said softly.
"I'm going to have a look around outside," Byric said over his shoulder as he stepped on to the road overgrown with weeds and wild grass. The cleric-ranger scanned the area carefully, looking for any sign of recent traffic; however, the lush grass around the boat house and on either side of the road didn't appear to have been matted down by anyone, or anything. In fact, the only thing that seemed out of place was the small wrecked ship to Byric's right. "Who did she bring here on her final voyage, only to meet death?" he said to himself softly, eyeing the ship.
"Last one there is a rotten orc!" Yaran laughed as he jogged past Byric and up the road toward the manor home. As the Zambarian wild mage drew closer, he could see that the rusted and bent iron gate hanging open on an angle wasn't the only means of entry to the house beyond: a large section of the ten-foot wall erected around the house had been destroyed by something powerful enough to char the rock on either side of the gaping hole.
"Wait, let's check out the wreck first!" Kale shouted to Yaran as the fighter began making his way through the tall grass and toward the ship.
"Indeed," Byric said, following Kale toward the ship. "I'm not finding any signs of traffic. It seems no one has been through this area for some time. Nothing up here except an old road leading to what might be the manor home."
As Kale and Byric neared the ship, Yaran came running down the road, catching up with his companions a moment later. "Shipwrecks are usually intersting," Yaran said to the others, "but this one seems a bit foreboding."
"If that ship carried those Langington elite soldiers Jerrie mentioned," Kale started, pointing toward the ship, "we might find some clues as to what they were looking for, or expected to find, on this island."
The Zambarian mage shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I suppose it's the idea of finding more walking dead around," he admitted.
A few moments later, the three young adventurers were standing before a muck-covered, single-mast sailing ship. "Sorrow's Foe," Byric said as he read the name of the vessel of her starboard bow, dirty letters stretched across a warped outer hull, as well as a hole the size of a small ogre. Access to the hole was blocked, though, by the lapping waves of the Sea of Sorrows, as well as a large, jagged rock.
Kale was the first to approach the ship, finding a suitable foothold before stepping on to her deck. He glanced around the ship quickly, finding that there was a small cabin on the main deck and what appeared to be a short flight of steps leading down to the ship's lower deck. As Kale's hand casually dropped to the hilt of his enchanted blade, Byric and Yaran climbed aboard the Sorrow's Foe.
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