Rolg weathers a lot of rude and hateful remarks for his kin, and doesn’t make any progress on finding a ship. In fact, some shopkeepers who were open for business refuse his service, forcing him to shop elsewhere.
Logan also has trouble, but for the opposite reason: too many friends and acquaintances recognize him and stop him to chat. There are so many of them that he doesn’t make any progress on contracting a vessel. However, he did catch up with a few good friends and learn that most of them are well, and eager to join battle with the goblins.
Aladdin, knowing nothing of the town, blunders across a low born, saucy vixen. His priorities change to a more carnal nature for the next hour or two, and ends up finding more than he expected to; the woman in question in actually a daughter to a ship captain who was just getting his ship out of drydock.
Bolgrith’s kind nature and knowledgeable approach prevail and expedites his search. He finds an elderly human priest, an expert in wandlore, who has a variety of helpful wands for sale. The old wandmaster asks after Bolgrith’s companion, a human woodsman who stopped by just over a week ago. Later, the dwarf ambles down to the docks, where he is able to track down a ship captain preparing to leave. After some conversation, in which Bolgrith sees through a few falsehoods, he learns that the captain simply means to leave the town before he and his men are conscripted or his ship seized by any of the noble houses. He had no destination set, other than "away". When the dwarf mentions passage to the Hammertides, the captain brightens, and tells him that the two day sail will cost him four hundred gold pieces.
Learning that departure takes place in a mere half-hour, the dwarf quickly finds Logan and Rolg in the city. No one seems to know where the mad sorcerer wandered off to. The three are about to give up and return to the docks, only to find Aladdin humming to himself while climbing the gangplank to the ship in question, in the tow of a beautiful young woman. Ignoring the Azlanti, the ship captain, who introduces himself as Quinn Merlow, stops the three and demands payment before boarding his vessel.
The Priest relays the sad news of Balions passing as he makes his purchases. Keeping to himself his concerns about the witch of the woods and the Stewards strange adviser...
Back at the docks Bolgrith regards the captain dubiously. A two day journey doesn't seem like it should cost a full 400 units of gold. He tries to talk the man down, offering 200 a head for the journey...
The captain relents in the negotiations, when Rolg points out that if the captain intends to duck out of the draft, he wouldn’t want someone to call the attention of the guards. After each of the three pay two hundred gold bits, he shows them where they can stow their things and rest. He lists an expected order of rules -no filching, no fires, no disobeying a captain’s order, stay out of the way of the crew, and so on. In twenty minutes, lines are cast and the oarsmen labor the ship into deeper parts of the river.
In a few hours time, the longship glides over the Snowrun, and all aboard notice patrols of heavy horse along the bank, and on the other side, a large number of tents cast over open fields, and a great host of men, hobgoblins, goblins, kobolds, and even a few dwarves mill about them. The encampment is too far for a bow, but the intent is unmistakable: these varied creatures gather for war. Captain Merlow orders full speed and a full sail, and neither accosts the ship as it sails down the natural barrier between the knights and the mercenaries.
It is evening by the time the Grand Facade passes Wheaton and is rowed into open waters, the sun scarcely peeks over the watery horizon when they clear the bay. At this time, the crew shifts switch, and the day crew devours a meal of salted beef, hard bread, and water before going to bed. The night crew breaks their fast before manning the oars and taking up watch positions on the aft and prow.
Tired of racist attention, Rolg keeps himself to himself and speaks only if spoken to.
Tired from the near non-stop trek and then flight from the Gartok horde, Bolgrith retires to his bed roll and catches up on as much sleep as he can.
After finding a spare fishing line, Logan will go fishing so as to ponder the mission ahead.
I didn't want fish anyway...
Logan then turns his attention to the rest of the vessel and finds Rolg. He sits next to him with a grunt that verbalizes the notion of "It's better than boredom alone".
The night passes quietly, and the longship gently rocks with the waves of open waters.
At daybreak, the wide waters lay flat horizons around the ship, save for a small black dots both northeast and southwest of their location. The land southwest, says the captain, are the Hammertides. He hopes to sail into port before nightfall, otherwise, they will have to wait until sunrise. Navigating through the rough waters and treacherous rocks of the Hammertides is too dangerous to be done at night, he explains.
As morning breaks, Logan does some routine exercises to wake his body and prepare for the day ahead.
It's going to be a good day, come what may.
Rising with the dawn, Bolgrith seeks out as much privacy as he can on the small vessel. After his morning calisthenics and meditation the dwarf collects some water in two flasks, praying for the blessing of Irori he sanctifies the water, adding in the silver powder at the proper time as instructed to him by his mentor decades ago.
The procedure completed the Priest uses the rest of the day to study his new books.
Aladdin attempts to spend more time with the captain's daughter. "My lady, shall we pass the time in a more vigorous way?" Aladdin murmurs in her ear.
The daughter balks at Aladdin’s suggestion, glancing at her father who stands twenty feet away, steering the ship. She looks pointedly at the single-deck longship, from one end to the other, packed with sailors and the handful of Aladdin’s traveling companions, and asks incredulously, “Where would we do such a thing? No room or privacy here…”
She grins coyly, “You’re crazy. I like crazy. But first let me show you how vigorous a dwarven tavern can get. Port comes tonight or tomorrow. Tell me more of your travels, stranger.”
The priest begins to grasp an rudimentary understanding of the draconic tongue, before deciding to open the battered, leather-covered journal. At a casual glance, written text is dated with each entry like every other journal, but when the bookish dwarf begins to actually read its contents, he finds the subject matter most bizarre. The riveting ramblings pull his attention inward, oblivious to the happenings around him.
A sudden surge of water bucks the front of the longship, and enormous sharp teeth close down on the wooden side of the ship and on half of a screaming sailor. A rounded grey nose, a sleek white underbelly, and the telltale dorsal fin alert all aboard to this shark attack!
The huge, great white shark chomps down on the unfortunate sailor, who disappears behind a savage and sharp-toothed maw. Boards splinter and crack, and seawater sloshes aboard as the shark twists to bring down the ship. The captain shouts commands to his sailors to repel the beast, but Rolg, Aladdin, and Logan are quick to act!
Snatching up his polearm, Rolg rushes to the rail and slashes at the creature's gills.
"Harpoons! Line Hooks! Hurry!"
Seeming to reach for his falchion, the young lieutenant's hands grip bow and arrow. A small smile plays across his face as a sleep arrow is nocked and his bowstring is pulled taut. I suppose if this doesn't work, I could always try asking the big fish to kindly stop trying to doom us to a death of fangs and terror.
Smile disappearing, Logan takes aim and lets fly.
Rolg's polearm skids over thick skin, and a moment later, Logan's arrow strikes the shark in the eye, exploding into a small puff of vapor and dust. The shark's eyes glaze over and its strong jaws release the ship, rolling back into the sea. It sinks listlessly deeper into the blue brine.
But the threat of sinking is still at hand, with a gaping hole in the side of the shallow ship. The Grand Fascade is taking in water quickly, and the sailors scramble to dam up the breach.
Startled out of his readings, Bolgrith turns to see the large fish slide back into the water. As the water rushes into the vessel the Priest rushes to help as best he can.
Aladdin runs out to help repair the ship.
The four rush to help close the hole and save the ship, though only the sailors and Rolg appear to know what they are doing. Logan, after making it worse, is pushed from the area and handed a bucket to start pitching water over the side. Bolgrith helps most by providing a sturdy counterweight to the incoming water. Aladdin, in a moment of wisdom, helps by not conjuring a personal rainstorm over his head and filling the deck with even more water.
The setback costs time, lumber, and several gallons of pitch. Most of the bedrolls that laid on the deck are now sopping wet, along with anything else the crewmen wished to keep dry. But the worst of it is seen on the faces of the crew -all of them watched a coworker get eaten alive.
While the damage is bad, the captain says it would be even worse to brave the choppy, rocky waters of the Hammertides at night. The Grand Fascade limps along for a few more hours before the sun falls and canvas is pulled over the sleeping day crew. The night crew take up their posts but obey the order not to advance the ship too close to the rough seas ahead.
Logan makes note to ask Rolg to teach him how to hold his own on a boat and passes the rest of his day minding his own and getting ready for his mission ahead.
Rolg will help with repairs as he can, but turns in early. In the morning, he rechecks his gear.
Bolgrith continues his studies for the rest of the evening.
The four rest on the rocking vessel, and the night gathers an unshakeable chill on those in the longship, made worse by the many things that were soaked from the shark attack. Thankfully, no alarms are raised by those keeping watch. On the sunrise, the crew rises and eats a quick breakfast before turning to their stations.
The mist begins to slowly burn away as the light of the sun shines in full, revealing a cluster of islands near and on the horizon. True to the captain’s word, the Grand Fascade is expertly guided through treacherous black rocks that scarcely break the surface of the ocean. A few of the crew mutter prayers or mantras when they pass a shipwreck stranded between such jutting rocks. The water grows choppier the deeper they sail into the Hammertide Isles, and while the crew is alert and sharp, they seem to have confidence in their captain’s orders. Consulting a map indicates that the four now sail through the area marked as “The Sparks”.
On the horizon, the jagged mountain silhouettes of the larger isles look a deep blue-violet in the light of the morning sun. Amid the harsh stone, the four can discern a head, broad shoulders, a thick arm holding something, a large circle covering the other side of the shoulder, and the torso that sprouts from one of the center mountains; a motionless giant stands on the horizon. If the rocky bluffs it stands between are any indication, this creature is mountainous in size.
The enormous humanoid ahead is in fact part of a mountain, the towering visage of a battle-ready dwarf bellowing a warcry to the heavens. With a warhammer in one hand, and a round shield held by the other, its form is covered in heavy armor, and the stout helm allows a prodigious beard to cover most of the dwarf’s chest.
This stone monument was once a mountain, centuries ago, and in fact, it took two hundred years of masonry and engineering to complete it.
At the feet of the towering statue is a temple to Torag, and the site of the temple and statue are referred to as Stormcall. The area bears historical, political, religious, and economic significance to dwarves of the Hammertides.
After another hour of careful navigation, the islands called The Sparks are now big enough to be populated, and other longships are seen amid the rough waters. A few docks weather the harsh surf on these small islands, that look to host no more than a village or town on them.
The captain tells the four he will be sailing to the port on Fivestone, the northern isle of the Hammertides. There is good work there, he claims, until the war on Ytramond dies down. He expects to reach it in four hours.
It will be good to be on land, soon. Let's hope this trip was not for naught.
Logan knows that the Hammertides are ruled by three dwarf kings, who each rule over a separate clan: King Fivestone, King Stormcall, and King Anvilhart. The three kings hold court at the Stormcall temple of Torag to address foreign affairs, but otherwise keep to their own island dominions.
Logan does not know if the three kings are in Stormcall court currently, but he does know that going to the Fivestone port has a significantly lesser chance of getting all three kings to meet and agree to sail to war.
Bolgrith looks out over the waves at the approaching island. The traveler in him appreciates the skill with which the sailors guide the vessel through the rocky shallows, and the dwarf in him swells a bit at the regal statue dominating the skyline.
The priest’s readings of bizarre and borderline nonsensical accounts revisit him while he sleeps. Dreams of monsters and voices unknown, in a void black and confining yet freeing and limitless. Strange worlds and peoples mix with places and folk from the life of the seeker of knowledge. When Bolgrith wakes, his muscles ache as though he journeyed endlessly for years, but his observation of his companions and surroundings tell him only a single mundane night was passed. Still, a truly fascinating and foreboding feeling accompanies the attempts to recall the murky dreams. The priest wonders, when he next sleeps, if he will return to these strange worlds and stranger fates. No doubt, the journal sparked these sensations, so perhaps it has answers frantically scrawled in its pages...
Looking out at the Stormcall monument brings much to the dwarf’s inquisitive mind. Not only is Stormcall a magnificent sight to look upon, it is said that the mouth of the great dwarf opens to an enormous hollow in the heart of the mountain. This cavity winds down to the centermost room of Torag’s temple, engineered to form a mountainous horn. According to legend, the horn was only blown once, by a pure-hearted peasant dwarf when the bearded folk were in desperate need. But the sounding of the horn is what gave the monument its name, for it summoned the wrath of Torag on their enemies, in the form of deafening thunder and terrible lightning.
The three dwarf kings, King Fivestone, King Stormcall, and King Anvilhart, united by faith and race, gather at the Stormcall temple to decide on foreign affairs, and handle domestic affairs individually according to their dominions. King Fivestone rules over the northmost island of the Hammertides, called Hammer. His kingdom mines and mints most of the gold that the Sunderlands use in trade. King Stormcall rules from the Stormcall, the island with the highest concentration of Torag priests and paladins, who take up the blessed work of ship building and blessing the weapons of the dwarf people. King Anvilhart rules from the Anvil, an impregnable fortress on the southmost isle. His hold is known to mine and craft the greatest weapons of the realm. The three kings preside over The Sparks, though each small island is ruled by a lesser dwarf lord.
Bolgrith does not know if the three kings are already gathered on Stormcall on other business, but that would be the best place for Logan and his companions to ask for dwarven intervention on the plight of the nation of men. Sailing first to the kingdoms of Fivestone or Anvilhart would waste precious time, since the three would first need to meet and agree on going to war as a nation.
The stormborn sees the massive dwarven visage and recalls that this monument, named Stormcall, was carved from a mountain. It took two hundred years to complete, from start to finish, and is the site of historical and religious significance to the dwarf people.
Rolg awakens refreshed despite the damp of the ship. In his good humor he forgets his stony silence and asks a loitering sailor, "What can you tell me of the dwarven edifice ahead, cousin?"
Overhearing his companions question the cleric turns to interject. "That, Brother Rolg, is Stormcall. A massive and majestic horn carved from the raw mountain. It is said to be used in times of dire need, and it possesses the power to beseech Torag that He may show His wrath to fiend and foe of the dwarves of the Hammertides."
His brow crinkles as the Priest adopts a more pragmatic look. Stifling a yawn he continues, "In any case, that is probably where we should head first. If we can gain audience with King Stormcall he should be able to summon the other two of the dwarven kings to the temple. It's where they discuss matters that affect all three nations. I would say the army in the Northeast is definitely an issue that affects all." His eyes close briefly as he appears to sag in his armor, but quickly the feeling is banished and Bolgrith, called the Faithful, begins to help around deck where he can.
The sailor makes a bemused grunt at Bolgrith’s intentions to see the three Hammertide kings. “Well, Cap’n Merlow ‘s goin’ to Fi’estone. Yous be needin’ words wit’ ‘im iffin yous needin’ a deetur.”
The deckhand shrugs indifferently and continues in his work.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Bolgrith chants a soft prayer and his gloved hand glows briefly.
"Captain Merlow, I just heard that we're making our way to port in Fivestone? Do you think it may be possible to drop us off on Thunderstone first? The dwarven kings must be made aware of the goblin hoards." The Priests voice rings with the earnestness of the just.
Rolg casually walks away as "goblin hoards" is spoken aloud, assuming his presence could only hurt their cause.
The captain’s reflexive objection catches in his throat when he looks upon the faithful dwarf. He shrugs. “Sure. But only because it will put me behind by a few hours. Any more, would cost you more.” He adds with a greedy gleam and a smirk.
He turns and immediately begins to make adjustments for the new destination, weaving the longship through the choppy, rocky waters.
The mountainous dwarven statue draws ever-nearer, yet those aboard do not see a shore and dock for another four hours. Before the ship even comes to a full stop alongside the weathered wood planking, Captain Merlow is already getting his crew ready to push off again. With wide, sweeping motions, he urges Rolg, Bolgrith, Aladdin, and Logan to hop off his ship. The captain’s daughter sees the stormborn get ready to leave, and fidgets indecisively.
Bolgrith nods a final thanks as the ship begins to move off. To the captain he says "May the winds in your sails be ever favorable." Testing the straps on his pack he looks towards the mountain.
Rolg turns to Bolgrith. "Is there perhaps a rune or sign in your language to indicate the fact that I am friendly and no threat to your people? I'd like you inscribe it on my shield as I fear my presence here may put all in danger."
The Priest regards his stalwart companion thoughtfully. After a moments consideration he places a hand to his chest and whispers a short prayer.
"My lady, perhaps you'd be interested in exploring a whole new world? Do you wish to be on this boat forever? You could come with us and experience adventure, and be with me."
The priest remembers hearing somewhere, that the quickest way to gain audience with the kings, were to procure a special stone marked with a specific magical rune. Because the three kings are not always in the same court, and the number of folk who seek audience with the three runs into the hundreds on some days, these runic stones are few in number and highly prized. The stone must be presented to the chief administrator of the court, who whisks the stone bearer to the front of the waiting line to present his or her case to the kings. It stands to reason that the court administrator could tell a true runic stone from a forgery, though Bolgrith does not know how the court administrator would go about doing so.
These stones, called an Irkei, or Irkei Stone, are carried by individuals of the Hammertides of great importance, such as a Grand General or Grand Admiral, along with the High Forgemaster (the title of the high priest) of the Stormcall temple. Most of the others are locked away in secret locations. Bolgrith heard from one source that there were once thirteen Irkei Stones in existence, though only nine are now in use. The story goes that the four were lost to time, for these stones have been in use since the founding of the Three Kingdoms, centuries ago. Of the nine still in use, Bolgrith knows of two that can be lent for a fortune, in one of the many rooms of the Stormcall temple. Those who purchase temporary ownership of the Irkei have twenty-four hours to present their case to the kings, afterwhich the stone is magically recalled to the vault deep inside Stormcall. Bolgrith thinks the price of Irkei rental is around ten thousand gold bits . Other than paying an exorbitant amount of gold, Bolgrith reasons that perhaps a high ranking official (such as those mentioned above) could be persuaded to accompany the four into immediate audience with the three kings, if such a favor was in their interests. Each island kingdom has one Grand General and one Grand Admiral, and the Stormcall temple is where the High Forgemaster presides over the faithful.
The bookish dwarf recalls from his time in the Hagglesport library, reading of attempts of trade agreements with the dwarves, initiated by the hobgoblin city-state. These attempts were not well-received. As part of their efforts in reaching out to the dwarven people, the hobgoblins created a sigil, an image of a weighing scale with the rune for “dwarf” and “goblin” on either side, to represent equality. Officially, the dwarven kings condemned the image, claiming it would stain their honor to accept equality to the hobgoblin race. However, some dwarven merchants were not as proud, and would trade in secret with the hobgoblins who bore that image. Overall, Bolgrith does not think this will be a good solution for the king’s court, but it might suffice in the marketplace.
However, there might be a better chance at acceptance if Rolg had the holy symbol of Torag hammered into his shield. Nearly every dwarf on the Hammertides is fiercely devout to the Master Craftsman, and seeing a hobgoblin who would worship the same god might soften any hostility towards him. Even if Torag favors the dwarf people, the dwarves would have no place to say who can and cannot worship the Master Smith.
The captain’s daughter clambers over the ship and throws herself at Aladdin, threatening to knock both of them off the other side of the dock and into the water. Captain Merlow rolls his eyes and tells her to have fun, be safe, and that he will be back to Stormcall in three days. “If I find Coral in a state any less healthier than she is today,” he warns Aladdin with a grim look, “I know a few places in these isles where they’ll never find you.”
The crew roar in rough laughter, but the stormborn knows that there is no joke in the father’s tone.
After an exchange of goodbyes, the Grand Fascade glides into deeper waters, and the crew waste no time setting sail and extending oars to make up on lost time.
A dwarf guard greets the Steward’s envoy where the dock meets land. But he scarcely gets out a “Hullo,” before the surging tides churn and a huge turtle breaks the surface of the water. It immediately crashes onto the sodden wood dock, knocking crates into the shallow, surging brine. By its wild, angry eyes, it is plain that the great turtle is in a blood-thirsty frenzy as it snaps its man-sized maw at the nearest dwarf.