Taking the opportunity to flank the spellcasting owner of the now dead crocodile, Aaron moves quickly, but not recklessly. Assuming and maintaining a defensive stance and focusing a little more on protecting himself, his blade nevertheless strikes true, slashing the other man's side open, blood flowing freely from the wound.
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Screams of pain echoed along the dirt packed street. The hot jungle air carried on its winds the acrid smell of burnt wood and the coppery tang of blood.
Black smoke and red death, a Halfling falling to the ground. The crack of a musket being fired. The desperate bellows of men walking the daggers edge between life and death.
The bloody, wild melee came in flashes to John. Blood ran down his arm, though he could barely comprehend the pain. That should have bothered him, but for some reason it didn't. It didn't at all.
The shipyard guard in front of the red haired marine's looked at John with fear in his eyes. He looked as if he was ready to break and run. But that wasn't an option any more. The die had been cast and no quarter would be given. Still, John didn't say a thing. Hard words were for fools and cowards. John simply acted with furious anger, stepping forward and striking the man down.
The halflings cry out as they charge en masse, filling the courtyard behind their rescuers quickly. They rush the nearest guard, attacking him with any weapon available - or teeth and fists if none are. He takes one of them down with a thrust to the heart, but that simply enrages the rest of the slaves. He barely keeps his feet, trying not to succumb to their raging assault as they try to drag him down. The halflings let loose a ragged cheer when they see Rickety Hale take two arrows that nearly kill him.
Markis takes the attack from Aaron in stride as he finds himself surrounded on both sides by attackers. With his spear too long to effectively use against either enemy, he realizes immediately that he needs to move. He knows that he will not be able to move without being injured - perhaps grievously - but waiting to be attacked from the flanks would not do. He steps to the side, allowing Doran an easy strike at his hamstring and Aaron a slice at his midsection. He grunts in pain as the attacks nearly debilitate him, but the adrenaline of the battle keeps him moving. He stops suddenly and thrusts backwards with his spear. Unprepared for the strange angle of the attack, Aaron can't dodge it in time and finds the spear embedded in his stomach. Markis pulls it out with a wet pop, a satisfied and sinister smile crossing his face. "That's for my gator," he grunts through gritted teeth. Badly injured and now outnumbered, his body language makes it clear that he is looking to disengage and retreat from a losing battle.
In an instant, Markis moves as if to retreat, driving his spear through Aaron in the process. Though Doran has had his differences with Aaron from the beginning, they need each other if they're going to survive and escape this place. While the guard is distracted by Markis' sudden movement, Doran dives backwards and tumbles away, coming to his feet behind a nearby bush and hurrying to Aaron's side. He reaches for the potion the man indicated just moments ago, ready to try to bring the man back into the fight - or the flight, if they're fortunate.
As he reaches into Aaron's belt pouch, Doran sees his shipmates nearby and calls out, "John, Vrun, see to Olli! Let's get out of here!"
Ollivor is pale, but those that remember his throat nearly being torn out know he's been worse. Still, right now, he's dead weight.
Cold? Cold is for white...and silver, Ollivor's mind takes wing in the blackness whites are brutish, savage, stupid and small, but one must still respect... wait, he was no dragon, was he? I can't recall. With serperntine eyes he gazes down at his body, and those around it. Doran stands as tall as a giant Aaron, Aaron looks like a shadow wearing a man instead of the otherway around. Neither make sense, but both feel right.
The old man with the vile heart and a trio of arrows in his shoulder grunts out a threat. "You're dead for this! Dead!" With his musket in hand, Rickety runs for his life. As quickly as his beleaguered body will take him, he slides along the side of the building to get some cover against Thorn's arrows. If they want to pursue him, they would have to cede the Empty Lighthouse.
The guard strikes at Thorn, cutting him deeply on the leg. The elf roars out, refusing to drop down into oblivion despite the pain. Carefully, the guard darts away to give some cover to his employer and to join Markis on the other side of the nearest building.
"Go!" The other guard yells at Markis to convince him to retreat. "I'll cover your escape!" With his eyes squarely on Doran and his deadly knives, he warily steps backwards with the clear intent to run as soon as Markis gets clear.
The only guard with no hope of escape tries his best to take a few of the halfling slaves down with him. He strikes down one of them as they swarm him, leaving him bloody and dead on the ground before his imminent quartering.
”John, I’ll revive Ollivor, if you don’t mind cutting this man down!” Vrunyar says as he darts from the guard. The guard’s sword cut’s into Vrunyar’s side, high along the ribcage nearly at his armpit. Vrunyar knows that from certain angles it will look like he’s been run through with a cutlass so he let’s out a ”HA!” to signal he’s not hurt badly.
He kneels next to Ollivor’s head, fingers already uncorking an extract to heal the sorcerer. He does a quick check of his wounds. The alligator bite was vicious. Ollivor’s face was tinted blue and covered with ice particles. Shouldn’t be any, but I’ll have to check for frostbite damage later, he thinks. He pours the vial’s fluid into Ollivor’s mouth and smiles as the color returns to Ollivor’s skin as the magic sweeps through the body. Sometime I need to explore the speed of healing, he thinks, before smiling and shaking Ollivor’s shoulder gently.
”Ollivor, Ollivor,” he says calmly. ”You want me to carry you or do you just want some help in standing?”
The extract does the trick, sealing the worst of the wounds and restoring some color. Ollivor's eyes open and he sees Vyrunyar, and the words start coming in, "What? I... I'll stand, I'll stand. Is the fight over? " Then he sees the wound on his friend, "I'd guess not."
Thorn watched Rickety yelled hollow threats over his shoulder directed to Thorn as he made an escape. The arrows he planted in Rickety's chest caused the old man a great deal of pain and discomfort but he was still able to flee fast enough to make it a challenge to follow. Thorn quickly decided escape was not an option and Rickety must die for his transgressions "DAMN, He shot me in the back! Thorn yelled out after Rickety."COME BACK HERE YOU COWARD, TODAY YOU DIE!" The rage burning inside of Thorn, demanding for vengeance against Rickety, blinded Thorn to the oncoming attack made by Guard #1. The guard's cutlas sliced through his thigh, disabling Thorn for the moment as the guard too fled after landing a cowardly attack. Thorn Yelled out in pain once more as his leg opened up like a fountain and raging river of blood ran down his leg. Thorn's rage would not let him think about the pain, he was ready to kill. Hopping on his one good leg at a considerably slower speed, Thorn was able to reach the end of the wooden shack just in time to see Guard#1 providing cover for Markis as they made their escape like Rickety. Thorn clenched his bow in his left hand as he held the corner of the wall for support with his right. Thorns face turned a deep shade of maroon as he stood, grinding his teeth and casting a deadly stare of pure anger as he watched another coward who took a cheap shot, caused him pain and ran away.
Sorry forgot!!!
Aaron's satisfaction as striking at the frost-wielding mage is quickly replaced by the sharp pain in his stomach as the man's spear runs him through. His eyes move from his foe to the slowly bleeding wound and then back to Markis as he pulls his weapon free, seemingly the only thing that was holding the Chelaxian up as he quickly collapses.
The halflings pour over the guard as Rickety, Markis, and a few of his bodyguards flee from the slaves and their saviors. The crew may have won the melee, but at great cost - Aaron and Ollivor grievously wounded, and Thorn barely conscious. None of them were unscathed in the fight, but they drove off the slaveowners and freed dozens from captivity. Bloodied, they look over at the Empty Lighthouse and the crew of pirates on board. A few of them glance over at the battle, but none of them seem to care much about what happened - they are too busy freeing the ship and readying it for evasion. Doran and John, wearied and wounded, know that there is still the better part of a minute left before they will be able to bring the sheets up and start moving away from the docks.
Vrunyar drinks his mutagen while resting after the fight. His skin takes on a stony quality, grayish and harder. He closes his eyes for a moment and the wounds on his left arm and side nearly disappear. The dwarf bandages Thorn’s and Ollivor’s wounds. He gives each of them an extract for healing. ”You can use this now or save it for later. How much magic does that wand have?” he asks John.
”Take this,” Vrunyar says giving Marina his light crossbow and bolts. He motions towards his battleaxe on the ground next to him as he wraps a bandage around a halfling’s chest. ”It’s time to take the ship back, and I’m more effective with an axe.” The guard’s blood on the axe accentuates his point.
"Gods above, I'm in no shape for a fight if we have time to heal," He takes the extract.
Doran calls out to John to lend him the healing wand, and applies it once to himself as he considers the vial he's pulled from Aaron's belt. I hope this is the right one. I'm finally coming to a point where I can stand this Chell, I'd hate to pour poison down his throat.
He then kneels by Aaron. Lifting the man's head, he holds the vial to his lips, pouring the peculiar potion into him slowly, to avoid choking or drowning him as he tries to help. It does not have as much effect as he'd hoped, but Aaron seems to recover himself, though he's still weak. In frustration, he draws out another vial and hands it to Aaron to drink, helping the man steady his hand as he does so. The second dose is a good deal more effective
Once Aaron is able to move on his own again, Doran stands and holds up the healing wand, saying, "We've got to get ourselves patched up a bit before we try to take the ship. Who else needs healing?"
”Well done Doran,” Vrunyar says as the halfling begins healing the injured.
"I'll take another shot, Doran," Ollivor says after the extract heals some more wounds, "But make sure we don't run out entire. Those recently freed may need them more."
Seconds stretch as the crew rushes to heal their wounds. Doran uses the wand with tremendous effect, easily mastering its magic as if he had always had the ability to manipulate the innate forces of life. From the precipice of death, the badly wounded are brought to vigor and speed. Thorn's wounds close, though the bullets don't spit out as his skins knits shut. They will likely remain inside him as a reminder of Rickety's rifle. Ollivor's remaining injuries, partially healed from Vrunyar's extract, continue to shut and heal as the magic works through him. He can feel it more potently than the others as the magical energy channels all around them with a power that makes his hair stand on end. The minor injuries to the others - except for Aaron, who refused use of the healing power - fade quickly and bring them back into fighting shape. One of the injured halfling slaves is brought to consciousness through the wand, but the others are too far gone to save. The crew members are tremendously hungry and tired from the exertion of their bodies' accelerated healing, but they push through it to the final stage of the plan: taking back the Empty Lighthouse.
The pirates on board the stolen ship have paid them almost no attention as they finish their work to free it from the docks. They keep a wary view of the rapidly approaching Bonadventure and the burning watchtower. Gauging the ship's speed, John knows that the pirate ship will have time to escape before the Andorans arrive - unless they do something about it. Fortunately, it is not just the six of them. The rest of the halfling slaves find whatever they can use as weapons, intent on freeing themselves or dying in the process. Marina takes the crossbow from Vrunyar with gratitude, though it is comically large compared to her. "Thank you," she says to Doran. "We outnumber the pirates if you lead the way and gets us all onto the ship, more than two to one. Rommen is too dangerous, though, and the rest are too terrified of him to put up an effective fight. You lot could take him down, though, while we take the pirates down."
With a plan settled, they wait a few more short seconds for the pirates to finish untying the ship and rush back onto the deck to set off. With no time left with which to prepare, they run out of the village onto the dock. With almost two dozen halflings behind them, the crew rushes the gangplank to get access to the port side of the ship. The pirates try to pull it up, but they are too fast. One takes an arrow to the eye from Thorn's bow, while the other gets cut down by John's blade. The rest of the pirates retreat slowly as they lose the gangplank, while several of the halflings fall to their attacks. Quickly, though, they furiously battle on the edges of the ship while giving a wide berth to the main battle that will determine its ownership: the original crew of the Empty Lighthouse (and new allies) against its current owner. Rommen stands on the starboard side, having come to the melee late.
"Well? Come on, then," Rommen growls. He summons magical energy and begins to grow, quickly doubling in height. His arms grow grotesquely long as his body lengthens. His bones snap inhumanly as he grows, and he lets out a pained growl. His arms are unnaturally long, capable of reaching almost any point on the ship. The chainmail on his body groans as it enlarges as well. "This is my ship, you trash. It's time for you to die." He reaches out and snatches one of the halfling slaves trying to fight the pirates; his arm extends even farther to close the distance in the grab. He snaps the slave's neck, dropping his body to the deck with a grotesque thump.
Thorn feeling fully refreshed grabs the flask from Vrunyar and attaches it to his belt for latter just in case anyone in the party needs a quick heal or "Erastil forbid I need a quick heal in a pinch. Doran follows Vrunyars lead and begins to heal the party as fast as possible. Once he reaches Thorn he uses the wand several times to mend Thorn's wounds and get him back to normal or as close as possible. "Thank you Doran, I was starting to get a little light headed there but all is good now. Lets go get that ship!"
As the party makes there way to the ship, Thorn looks down at his blood covered clothing, "I will kill that old man for ruining my shirt!" Thorn thought to himself, Its your own damn fault for trying to shots with a crazy old musket wielding slave driver, next time find cover instead of standing there like a fool. Thorn lifts his shirt and rubs over his stomach that is mended like new excepts for a solid and hard lump bulging slightly from his stomach. I will have to have Vrunyar use his medical knowledge to cut this bullet out of me once we get our ship back and sailing away from this cursed camp.
The party all make it to the ship just as the pirates are trying to pull up the gangplank. Thorn expediently releases an arrow from his bow to kill one of two guards lifting the gangplank. A clean swift shot in the right eye sends the pirate beneath the docs. The extra weight on the second pirate slows his progress down to allow John to cut him down. The party rushes up the gangplank to board the ship and surround Rommen.
Once on the ship Rommen challenges the party just before using magic to enhance his size. Thorn watched as Rommen grew to new heights and size just before striking down one of the newly freed halfling slaves. Thorn still raging from the battle with Rickety yells "YOU'll PAY FOR THAT" as he draws two arrows from his quiver and fires them at each shoulder trying to slow down Rommen's attacks and maybe take a little pop out his strikes. The two arrow both find their marks by embedding themselves deep on either side of Rommen's chest at the shoulders joints.
Doran begins to sing again, a rousing song that seems to blend the steady rush of waves with the pounding cadence of charging horses, inspiring his companions to defeat Rommen and achieve their freedom from this place. As he sings, he tumbles, flips and rolls through the chaos of battle, ending up against the far rail and close to Rommen's side.
Despite his wounds, Aaron is not about to let his Captain engage the now enlarged spellcaster alone, especially after the halfling took the time and care to heal him. Moving quickly despite the loss of blood and taking care to be ready to shield himself from incoming blows, the even paler than usual Chelaxian moves close enough to their foe to flank him and strike a telling blow, sliding his blade in the big man's thigh.
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Seagulls cawed overhead as crimson blood fell upon the deck of the Empty Lighthouse. Excitement spurred John onward with a cry. After what seemed like so long trapped first aboard the Wormwood and then upon the Man's Promise The chance for true freedom was something that John yearned for with all of his heart. The capture of the Empty Lighthouse carried with it so much more then just a chance at another escape. There was the chance of seeing his wife and daughter again, the chance to keep his promise to Iakob and the ability to chart his own future.
Bellowing like a stomping bull, John charged forward across the wooden deck raising his falchion above his head, but in his excitement his strike faltered at the last moment, barely missing Harrigan's proxy captain.
”Trash? HA!” Vrunyar says as he strides towards the human. He actually had less fear of the magically enlarged pirate. This man Rommen was more like a giant now! Thorn, John, and Aaron rushed to the attack, as Doran stirred their spirits to fight better. Seconds later, two arrows stuck from the pirate’s shoulders and blood sprang from his thigh.
Vrunyar raises his axe, seeing the tempting abdomen and groin. He swings his axe towards the pirate’s ankle.
”Give my regards to Plugg and his brother when your dessiccated soul reaches Hell,” the dwarf taunts the pirate, hoping he draws Rommen’s attention rather than any of the halflings or his crew mates.
Ollivor backs against the rail, hoping for a bit more distance, then the slave is killed right in front of them.
"Die, you bastard!" And a lash of energy pierces the murderer's chest.
Rommen's speed surprises the crew, slow as he was to react. As they fall upon him, hoping to fell him as easily as they did Plugg and Scourge, his limbs flail out wildly. With a roar as he is cut, slashed, stabbed, and hit with magical force, he unleashes his true power. With his arms lengthening and retracting even as he swings them, it is nearly impossible to predict the bizarre angles of his attacks. He seems to be thrall to a fit of rage, though utterly controlled in his movement - making every move even more alien. His hands crackle with electricity, popping and snapping towards the nearest target. He lashes out and slams one enlarged arm into John, hitting with so much force that the sailor feels as if he were hit with a bull. Without even turning, his other arm snakes around and sinks deep into Vrunyar's chest harder than any giant that has ever hit the dwarf. He feels his organs slam against his rib cage and has a worry that something may have ruptured inside him.
Thorn watched as the rest of the party quickly joined the fight just mere moments after his first volley of arrows struck home. The arrows were successful in causing damage but not enough to slow down or even lessen Rommen's wild strikes. Judging by the pain and anguish on John and Vrunyar's faces, Rommen was not pulling his punches. "Rommen has to be stopped now before he pummels us into puddles of slop". Thorn yelled out "BRING HIM DOWN!" Thorn grabbed another two arrows from his quiver, knocked them together on the bow string with the thought of the two arrows striking the same area together and causing a larger wound and cause more bleeding. Thorn fired them simultaneously at Rommen while aiming for the center of his chest. The arrows flew true and they both landed together at the same time in Rommen's sternum causing a nastier and larger wound. The blood was streaming from Rommen's newly acquired wound and the two arrow heads grinding together had to be causing Rommen great pain.
Doran ceases his song, but the energy of it lingers in the air. His eyes slowly rise up to stare at the towering giant pirate before him. bastard, this one! Time to cut him down a bit. His blades flash as he whirls them in his hands, then brings them biting into Rommen's leg. Envy cuts just above the heel, slicing partway into the man's Achilles tendon, then her unnamed sister is held up high to be driven into the side of the man's knee.
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Slammed to the deck, John tried to scream, but only a bloody gurgle managed to escape his raw throat. The clash of steel filled the air. Everything seemed painful. Raggedly the one legged marine pushed himself tiredly onto his feet.
Your still alive mate. Still fething alive. John muttered to himself as he hacked up a glob of bloody phlegm.
Summoning what remaining strength he had, John knew that this strike had to land. The next few seconds might be the difference between his life and his death. It was like walking Besmara's own plank. The thought came out of nowhere, and John shouldn’t have found it funny, but somehow it was.
Rommen! At me you big fething bastard! John yelled, drawing the gigantic man's ire. Grinning madly, teeth crimson, John spat into the hulking behemoths face with a spray of red droplets before quickly bringing his falchion up and through in a massive overhand strike, though the man's clavicle and into his chest. NO QUARTER!
Elemental power crackles out of Rommen's hands - fire, lightning, ice - as he falls to the deck. He wraps his arms, lengthened and alien, around John, and laughs as he squeezes. "You'd better throw me into the sea..." Blood starts pouring out of his mouth. "Or I'll come back and drown you... Pieces of shit..." He starts to shrink down to size, releasing the pressure from John, and slumps down. John yanks his sword back out, spilling his blood out in all directions. The pirate flops to the deck like a gutted fish, with his bizarre arms and legs ceasing their movement. The body looks wrong in every way, as his bones are odd and different lengths.
With their captain fallen, the pirates lose their will to fight. Several save themselves by jumping off the sides of the ship and going for it, but a few try to survive. The swarm of freed slaves stabs, bashes, and beats the remaining pirates to death in a brutal catharsis. After a few moments, they have the Empty Lighthouse under their control with a few remaining pirates swimming away to their own freedom. The halflings cheer and hoot at the joy of fighting for their future.
Meanwhile, the Bonadventure looms in its approach, closing the distance quickly. The ship is close enough for the crew of the retaken Lighthouse to see the Bonadventure's flags and rigging. The ship has a red eagle on a field of black - a privateer's version of the seal of the nation of Andoran. The red indicates that they will not be showing any mercy or quarter to the pirates at Rickety's village.
Doran lets out a great sigh of relief as the monstrous Rommen falls to the deck and his crew abandon the fight - those that haven't been killed by the freed slaves, done in by the blades given them by Doran.
"Well done, everyone! She's ours!" he cries exultantly, "We've got yer ship back, Cap'n Jonas!"
Seeing the Bonadventure approaching, and noting the flag of Andoran she's flying, his hopes grow even greater. "They'll likely be on our side," he says to his crewmates, "but we'll have to make sure they know we're on theirs." His voice takes on a more commanding tone as he calls out to the freed halflings, "Everyone, start looking for the signal flags! Marina, take a couple of your sharpest-eyed friends and look around the helm - the steering wheel by the back of the ship! Look for a chest or box that has colored flags in it, we can send a message that we're allies!"
Casting his eyes about, he notes the stained rag of a white shirt on one of the fallen pirates and says, "And failing that, we'll run this up the flagstaff and let 'em know we don't mean to fight. That'll give us a chance to explain who we are." He proceeds to cut the shirt off the man, then cuts it open to it will make as large a flag as possible. Moving to the foremast, he makes ready to run the flag up as high as possible, so the Andoren crew can't help but see it.
As Doran stands and watches the ship grow nearer, his fingers begin to twitch a little, and he lays a finger across his lips, preparing a spell that will help him communicate with the approaching ship when it is close enough.
Vrunyar gives a shout of joy as the last remaining pirates jump overboard. He feels like dancing but doesn’t as he isn’t too sure about what the Bonadventure means to do; for that reason and the fact that his chest is aching from the blow he suffered. He wonders how if he would feel if he hadn’t slowly fortifying his internal organs against such devastating attacks. The dwarf wipes the blood from his axe and takes a deep breath.
”Just give me a moment here to make you a bit more presentable,” he says to John as he begins to wrap the marine’s wounds. He also wipes John’s face clean. ”Do you think you and Doran can convince them not to attack us?” He spares a glance at the halfling. He didn’t look very injured. What a blessing.
He gives John a curt nod to indicate he’s done and looks around the deck. ”Bring your injured to the medical bay or the infirmary or whatever new name it will have,” he calls out waving an arm to gain the halflings’ attention. ”Most grievously wounded first,” he says and begins walking towards the infirmary.
”Please don’t throw his body overboard just yet,” the dwarf says to John and Doran. He looks at Rommen’s body with excited curiosity. A chance to examine such an anatomical mishap!
Thorn walks slowly and cautiously towards Rommen's fallen body. He pauses briefly before stepping on the man's giant deformed body. Thorn reaches down slowly and rips his arrows out one by one. Thorn watched the blood slowly gather at the tip of the last arrow head as he held it out to examine the shaft for any damage. The blood droplet finally fell back to Rommen's chest after gravity and the weight of the blood droplet released its hold of the arrow head. Thorn turned to prepare himself for the on coming Bonadventure by stepping off of Rommen's body and resting against one of the masts. Thorn tries to calm himself down by taking deep slow breaths to allow the rage to slowly slip away and his tense muscles to relax. The exhaustion begins to set in quickly for Thorn but he calls out to Doran and John "I can shoot a letter written by either one of you while attached to one of my arrows. I will aim for their mast of course, but its just in case they do not see our white flag of truce."
"If they do not see our white flag, perhaps we should first attempt some other non-threatening way of communication," Aaron offers as he turns to look at Thorn. He then proceeds to wink; despite his loss of blood he is in relatively good spirits it seems. "Preferably one that does not include shooting arrows at them. Paragons of virtue and freedom they may be, but people can be trigger-happy without necessarily being nasty old bastards as well."
"Aaron's got the right of it, Thorn," Doran weighs in, "if we start by shooting arrows at them, we'll likely end with worse than that. I've been messing about a bit with some of this magic I've picked up, and I think I see how I can send them a message, provided they're not too far away. They'll be well within bowshot before I can talk to 'em like that, but we can hoist the white flag, and talk to 'em with signal flags and good old-fashioned shoutin' and wavin' of arms too."
Doran sees that Thorn is still coming out of his battle rage, and decides to make things as plain as he can. He gives the elf a direct look and says, "No arrows, right? Not 'less John or I say otherwise."
Ollivor scrambles looking about for signal flags and the like, "I can change the colors on a flag with magic, and I can message em once in range, but in the mean time..." A thought occurs to him.
he tilts his head back, and begins to sing. It's a song that's rarely song by anyone outside of Andoran.
"What once blue
I can't see through
with hellish fog of war
What once was clear to see
is lost to me
I can not spy a view.
And though I choke on fire spawned smoke
And which way is north I have no clue.
I still take pains, to break all chains
For I still know what is true..
I know among the blue
Still the Eagle flies, my friends
Still the Eagle flies
There's plenty of blue freedom in the highest part of sky
And there with every Andoran Heart
You'll find the eagle flies!
No crack of lash can reach that bird
So nobly it soars
No chain can hold its mighty wings
It chooses its own course
No devil lives
what can catch that bird
that sings to every Andoran soul
No hood can blind, nor reign can yoke
No tyrant can control...
For Still the eagle flies, my friends
Still the Eagle flies
There's plenty of blue freedom in the highest part of sky
And there with every Andoran Heart
You'll find the eagle flies!"
He bellows, going for volume and clarity more than anything, and starts a second round, motioning for others to join in.
Thorn gives Doran a single nod of the head and says "No, Arrows! Got it." Thorn turns from Doran and walks back over to the cleaved and punctured body of Rommen. Thorn kneels down over the body and begins to search his corpse for anything useful. "A spell caster such as you must have something of great value or at the very least helpful to the group." Thorn tells himself as he begins to search Rommen's entire body for treasure, weapons, or any useful information starting with the pockets and even working his way down to removing his boots.
The Bonaventure approaches swiftly, cutting through the water with the same precision of a raptor in the dive. The corsair's ship is a three-mast clipper built for speed to close the distance between the ship and its prey as quickly as possible. If Captain Merrill Tantrey still maintains Andoran tactics, he will have a contingent of well-trained, disciplined marines on board ready to storm the enemy ship. They may have some ranged firepower - archers, siege, sorcery, or cannons - but those are a dangerous proposition for attacking slave ships. The ship doesn't open fire on them immediately, fortunately. As the Bonaventure approaches the Empty Lighthouse and Rickety's village, it slows dramatically to gauge the situation.
The privateers wait for a few long moments as Ollivor leads the crew in a rousing Andoran song. The Bonaventure maintains in position with its bow pointed directly at them; the positioning gives them the smallest possible silhouette should they be fired upon. The ship also maintains a lengthy distance of several hundred feet - a careful stance in an uncertain situation. The crew can see a figure climbing up to the crow's nest, carrying a pair of brightly colored flags. Moments later, the figure in the crow's nest starts signaling them in semaphore, using the flags to spell out words at a great distance. He starts by waving the flags to get their attention and begin the message.
John, well-versed in flag signals, reads them aloud to the others. "S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R-space-A-N-D-space-I-D-E-N-T-I-F-Y-space-O-N-E-space-C-H- A-N-C-E-space-T-O-space-E-X-P-L-A-I-N."
Joining right in with Ollivor's song, Doran runs up the white flag he's crafted, setting it to flapping obviously in the breeze. He then calls to John, "We've got to get a signal put together! And we've got to get it right!" Moving quickly across the deck to the peg-legged Andoren, he asks, "How do we explain the situation quickly? How about 'Freed slaves killed pirates. Help us' or something like that? No, they might think we're pirates asking for help from the freed slaves! Wait, I've got it!"
Rummaging through the locker of signal flags, he comes up with an approximation of the right flags and calls together a group of the halflings to help string them together, asking John to check their work as they go and make sure it matches Andoren signals. Identifying a handful of the freed slaves who were sailors, Doran then sends them aloft with the lead end of the signal line.
"Haven't had to use flags in a while, hope I got it right." Looking up to the masthead, he says, "Well, Rawkins, I was aiming to spell 'W-E-space-F-R-E-E-D-space-S-L-A-V-E-S-space-A-N-D-space-K-I-L-L-E-D-space- P-I-R-A-T-E-S-stop-H-E-L-P-space-U-S.' Is that what it looks like to you?"
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As Doran starts directing others for the ships signal flags, John gives a ragged cough. Glancing down into his hand is a misting of pink phlegm. Well sod me. The red haired sailor thinks to himself before giving a nod in Vrunyar's general direction. Holding his side, the marine gives a nod. Right, I'll see to the wounded and start funneling them toward the sick bay. I'll also see about securing the body and any personal belongings. With as powerful as the bloody bastard was, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something useful on him.
As John finishes sorting the worst of the wounded towards the sick bay, the marine pushes his way back onto the Empty Lighthouses main deck and into the sun. Eyes squinting from the bright light, John limps his toward Doran who holds a pair of semaphore flags in front of him.
"S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R-space-A-N-D-space-I-D-E-N-T-I-F-Y-space-O-N-E-space-C-H- A-N-C-E-space-T-O-space-E-X-P-L-A-I-N." The marine reads out loud for the benefit of the rest of the crew. Then, as Doran sends a group of halflings up the rigging, John nods as he reads the message being slowly spelled out. Aye.. space- P-I-R-A-T-E-S
The Bonaventure floats on the water for several minutes as the crew waits for a sign from the Andorans. The burning tower collapses while they weight with a groaning snap, sending a plume of black smoke into the sky. The pirates who survived the attack on the ship - pirates who were once members of Barnabas Harrigan's crew - swim as far away as they can and run into the jungle when they hit land. The few remaining slavemasters and guards from Rickety's make no attempt to reclaim the ship or the town, opting to flee from a losing battle as well.
Finally, the corsair cutter begins moving towards them. As it gets closer, the crew can see two dozen marines armed and ready to attack if this turns out to be an ambush. They can see the details on the fine ship, with its eagles and fine craftsmanship on full display. It was, after all, one of the premier ships of the Andoran Navy. The Bonaventure was well-known for its tenacious crew and cunning captain - at least until it was stolen by the very same captain and crew. As the ship approaches, the crew of the Empty Lighthouse stands back and tries to seem as nonthreatening as possible in order to avoid a misunderstanding.
The Bonaventure sidles up next to same dock that the Lighthouse was tethered to. One of the marines opens a hinged door on the starboard rail and puts down a gangplank. As soon as it is down, the Andoran marines - dressed in a modified version of their naval uniforms - hustle off the ship. Half run down the docks to clear the town, while the other half goes straight up the gangplank on the dock to the Empty Lighthouse. Even though they are armed and looking around suspiciously, none of them seem hostile to the crew. They stand at attention, scanning the crew (mostly of halflings) and awaiting their captain.
After a few moments of tense quiet scanning, one of the men steps forward. "I am Captain Merrill Tantrey of the Bonaventure," he says while looking intently at John and Ollivor. "Who is in charge?" They recognize that he was the first of the marines up the gangplank, a rare trait for a commander. He is a tall man of Taldan stock, with long brown hair neatly tied back and a goatee. He wears the golden epaulets on his formal naval greatcoat, complete with the golden piping and shined buttons; he wears the jacket open, however, a gleaming set of mithril chain armor beneath it. He carries a greatsword in a sheath on his back; the sword has a golden eagle molded as the guard on the hilt. He carries himself with a confidence and charisma of battle-tested leadership. With an intense look of questioning, he awaits an answer as to who leads the crew of the Empty Lighthouse.
After a few moments of tense quiet scanning, one of the men steps forward. "I am Captain Merrill Tantrey of the Bonaventure," he says while looking intently at John and Ollivor....
"My name's Ollivor Myles, and I'm a free man, but by choice, I follow Captains Tidewrack and Rawkins," Ollivor gestures to both, before turning back. There's an intensity in the young man's eyes, and there's respect, "And If I were wearing a hat, I might tip it to you, Captain Tantrey. Any man who takes out slavers is a man I could drink with. The Lighthouse belonged to a good man once before it was seized by blackguard of a Cheliaxian. We're taking it back for honorable service once more." While most of his wounds are healed, the dried blood all over one leg with torn material about it gives testament to the fight the young man has been in, "There's more to it, of course, but it's a long tale in the telling. I'm cook for the crew, and you might prefer to hear it over a meal and a drink if I can scrounge such up for folk."
As Ollivor introduces himself, Doran makes his way from the quarterdeck to the maindeck where the Andoren marines have gathered. He can't help but smile as Olli offers to throw together a quick snack for the armed force that has just boarded the Empty Lighthouse. He gives Olli a warm grin and a nod, then turns to the Andoren captain.
"Welcome aboard, Captain Tantrey, and welcome y'are indeed," Doran says in his sonorous voice. "Doran Tidewrack is my name, and I guess I'm in charge of this crew much of the time. When we're asea and in a fight, my co-captain John Rawkins there runs the show." He nods at the burly, peg-legged redhead, then continues, "As my friend here said, we used to crew this ship, and were just takin' her back, nice and gentle, from the pack of curs you saw us toss into the see."
Casting a quick eye over the freed slaves and giving them a reassuring wink, Doran adds, "As you can see, we've also freed the slaves Rickety had workin' for him, and I mean to give them honest work as crew, and I'll welcome any that can hand, reef and steer, or are willin' ta learn. Any who wish it we'll drop at the next free port we come to."
Doran gives Tantrey a considering look. "As you'll have guessed from my speech, I was born in raised in Cheliax. I've freed myself more 'n once, and I aim for this to be the last time, as we take back our ship and make sail. Bein' who you are, I'm hopeful you won't stand in the way of that."
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Seeing the sharp, clean lines of the Bonaventure John felt a surge of pride thrum though his chest like a well struck chord. A flood of memories quickly surfaced. John standing on the dock as he reported into the Righteous Eagle for the first time. His first lesions in leadership. The furious combat in the name of liberty. Unconsciously, John smiled. It was a sad smile, the smile of a man that had seen his lost love. That was his old life, and the red haired man knew that he would never wear the uniform again. Loss suddenly filled him and left a bitter tang in his mouth. So dam much has been lost and my life is not what I had thought it would be. Hand curling into a fist in anger, John sighed. At least he would finally get to see Captain Tantrey again. It had been a long time and worlds away.
Fixing a smile on his face, John limped though the mass of Halflings, towards Tantrey, before summoning up a salute that was a remnant from an older time. Captain Tantrey, Sir. John stated, fixing the Taldan square in the eye. John Rawkins, formerly of the Andoran marine's. I served aboard the Righteous Eagle as one of Lord Havershaw's boarding compliment. Gesturing to the Doran, John nods. Everything Doran stated is true. Some of us were apart of the original crew of the Empty Lighthouse and after our capture by the Wormwood , we've fought tooth and nail to win back our freedom.
Tantrey listens to their words with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "That is fantastic news. My diviner insisted that we conduct this raid because it would be a fortuitous time. It seems that he saw your victory here coming. I take it that the guard tower was your doing? Well done! Did you kill Rickety Hale? That old bastard deserved it more than most. I'm sure many of the freemen here have known the feel of his lash, and the freewomen his depraved touch." His face twists in disgust and hatred of the injustice that the old man represented.
He takes a long look at John, then moves forward to shake his hand. "Thank you for your service. I take it that you lost the leg in battle?" He nods back when John does. "It's been a long time since I was an official member of the Navy, but its sailors and ships remain close to my heart. They should have restored your leg as thanks for your service. The commanders have forgotten their promises to the enlisted, which is one of the reasons that I left the service. Lord Havershaw is a good man, but there are too few men like him in the echelons of power. Fortunately, I was able to secure a way to hold up Andoran ideals without the uncaring bureaucracy and politics holding me back."
He takes a step back to address the entire crew, but focuses on Doran as he speaks. "You have fought for and earned your freedom, and a ship of your own! There is nothing more precious in this world than freedom. I could no more stand in the way of that than cut off a part of my body. I offer you my friendship and safe haven as friends and allies! My marines will scour the town for the gold and coin that is rightfully yours, stolen from your sweat and labor, and it will be returned to you. All I ask in return is a pledge of loyalty to the cause of freedom, whether as a member of one of my crews or as free men and women on whatever terms you choose. What say you all?"
....I'll also see about securing the body and any personal belongings. With as powerful as the bloody bastard was, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something useful on him.
”I hadn’t even thought about his possessions. HA!” He claps the man on the back and turns to head for the infirmary when he realizes that the halflings he’d seen crying aren’t in pain but extreme joy. The realization that they are free has burst forth from most of them in tears and yells of ecstasy. A few sit numb, faces overcome with emotion. A few are dancing. A few run off to do Doran’s bidding — something about flags.
Vrunyar does see a few with minor injuries. Cuts and bruises, but nothing needing surgery. He wraps their wounds, introducing himself and thanking them for their assistance. The names flood past him. Tribin, Moram, Cherra, and Yamyra. Filiu, Muri, Quessi, Wyssa, and her brother Lem. Too many names. Seeing their liberation is the best incident Vrunyar has had in...he can’t remember when the world felt so right.
”Thorn, may I have the extract vial back? I need to reuse them.” He hears Ollivor singing and tells himself he’ll ask later when it’s more convenient. He shades his eyes to watch the flag signalling occur. He ponders the history of it, the redundancy of the actions, and the efficiency. Were common words given their own signal? Were some letters ever skipped? Couldn’t an enemy read the signal?
Soon Tantrey and a squad of marines has come aboard. The dwarf stands close to the mast and listens to the dialogue between Doran, John, and Tantrey. He shifts his weight from leg to leg with the mention of treasure. He feels like that belongs to the halflings here. A pledge of loyalty to the cause of freedom? What does that mean? he thinks as the captain ends with a rousing ”What say you all?”
"I say ” the dwarf yells. ”Part aye, part what have I gotten myself into, and well — it has lots of meanings, nuances, and subtleties. For now, know that I, Vrunyar Magmabeard, like the direction this ship is sailing, whether calm waters or a storm!”
Thorn sat with his back against the mast as the Captain and crew of the Bonadventure boarded their ship. He could feel the muscles in his entire body still twitching uncontrollably as they were totally spent and he was going through muscle exhaustion, and still trying to settle his rage. Thorn listened to the Captains as they talked and stood instantly as Rickety Hales name came up. "That dirty old bastard just barely escaped with his fat little head. My arrows have tasted his blood and the next time I catch up with him, he will not be so lucky"
Thorn uses the mast for support as he uses his other hand to retrieve the vial from his belt pouch and hand it to Vrunyar. "Thank you Vrunyar"
He takes a step back to address the entire crew, but focuses on Doran as he speaks. "You have fought for and earned your freedom, and a ship of your own! There is nothing more precious in this world than freedom. I could no more stand in the way of that than cut off a part of my body. I offer you my friendship and safe haven as friends and allies! My marines will scour the town for the gold and coin that is rightfully yours, stolen from your sweat and labor, and it will be returned to you. All I ask in return is a pledge of loyalty to the cause of freedom, whether as a member of one of my crews or as free men and women on whatever terms you choose. What say you all?"
The man's got a way with words, and is generous to boot. Ollivor nods, "That's an oath I already swore to myself, lot of things I took for granted before being seized against my will. never again."
Doran grins in relief at Tantrey's response, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "You have my pledge, Captain Tantrey, no fear of that. I have dreamed of freedom all my life, and will fight for it whenever the chance presents itself. And your friendship and allegiance are a welcome gift."
He turns to his friends, to the freed halflings, and raises his arms in the air, his weathered hands clenched in fists as he cries out in joy, "WE ARE FREE!" Lowering his hands, his great grin takes on a slightly sad cast as he turns to assist Vrunyar in patching up the wounded and bidding farewell to those who fell in the fight against Rommen and his crew.
Though this last task is painful, Doran takes solace in the fact that they fell fighting for their freedom, and that they didn't do so in vain. His sadness is further soothed by the joy in his friends, as Vrunyar offers his approval of where they're headed and the rest of the crew set to making the ship ready to sail with a light step and a song in their heart.
With that thought in mind, Doran calls forth the song in his own heart, his clear voice ringing over the decks. He sings of the freedom of sailing the seas, with a steady wind in the sails and a tropical island on the horizon, offering safe haven and a chance to explore a new land. He encourages everyone, Andoren marine and new-freed slave, dragon-tinged human and oar-weary elf, to join him in singing of the new chapter that has opened in their lives.
Aaron stays towards the back of the group during the exchange, his swords sheathed and his wounds partly healed, but still there. His mind and attention is divided between the present situation and a dilemma of his own; considering that he almost died, perhaps it is time to share his not-so-little secret with his new... friends? Comrades? Time will tell what word will best describe them, but there needs to be trust and trust starts with honesty. And then Captain Tantrey addresses them, posing a question of sorts, and his introspection is cut short.
Raising his hooded head to look at the man in charge of the Bonadventure, he nods with a crooked smile. "I am with them and I shall remain with them, wherever the winds may lead them," he says simply, indicating John and Doran and the rest with a nod and a look. Despite keeping his words few, the accent indicating his Chelaxian lineage still bleeds through. He sighs softly; it cannot be helped.