Through the impenetrable mist, Rendylyn feels a churn in the heavy air, then faintly hears the sounds of moving water across the wooden deck. And then, appearing very close is a shape, nebulous but not without form. It seems to see her as well, and suddenly a column of water swings at her like a fist!
Miss!
Combat Order: Everybody Go!
Treesa Lore
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple
Nerianus
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough <-- We are here
Dolphins
Rayse
"There's one right here!" Rendylyn calls, pointing at the water creature that attacked her. A triton? Or an elemental?
Vormog figues this is a small water elemental, that is considerably less effective out of the water. A bit silly, to be honest, to summon one on deck like this. It's not like they have any good means of forcing you off the boat.
Unfortunately, Vormog's powerful attack misses, but by how much is difficult to discern through the mist.
Eager to take the battle to the enemy, Rayse picked his way past various boxes and equipment on the starboard side of the boat. He raised his greatsword in anger and made an experimental thrust at the peculiar being Vormog was fighting. The pair had practiced often together, and he nodded as he prepared to flank this watery thing.
Treesa moves up to Vormog and applies her protective luck hex, then kneels down for cover and starts chanting.
Rendylyn studies the hostile mass of water before her. It must be one of the elementals Vormog said they can summon.. She frowns. It doesn't look flammable. Would it take magic, or cold iron, or silver to truly hurt it? Best to leave this one to the warriors. Perhaps I can distract it? She howls and makes as if to spring at the creature, then pulls away.
Vormog's morningstar smashes into his watery foe, causing a splash that sprays his face as well as Rendylyn's.
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple <-- We are here
Nerianus
Water Elemental (-11)
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough
Dolphins
Rayse
The water elemental turns its ire at Vormog, having tasted iron and fearing for what comes next now that Rayse has come around to trap it between them.
"Your evil tricks only buy you moments!" Nerianus chortles. "Even now the sea shows its contempt for your dark Prince!"
The column of water misses badly, perhaps confused why it should be left to fight this battle alone.
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple <-- Go anytime
Nerianus
Water Elemental (-11)
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough <-- We are here
Dolphins
Rayse
Posh will move to the portal that the Captain has retreated to, his normal voice lapses, and a loud booming voice, to possibly natural, thunders from his throat and demands, "Defend your ship from these fish people invaders!"
Rayse was noticed he was getting perilously close to the edge of the cloud, being vaguely able to see the outline of the port rail. Stepping out unarmoured didn't seem like a great idea so he attacked from where he was. He was sure he'd make short work of this strange watery foe, but unused to fighting without his armour he completely misjudged his swing.
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“Hold! Hold your damned spears, you barnacled zealots!”
A sharp cough followed as Posh scrambled to the rail. His small form wavered between the shadows and the ship’s faint lantern-glow, voice rising over the lap of waves with surprising command.
“By Mitra’s blessed flame, have you lost your wits? We are His servants — agents on His errand! You’ll answer for this if your spears so much as nick one of us!”
He snatched up a soggy scrap of parchment from his pack and waved it aloft like a holy writ. The gesture was pure theater — the kind of pompous flourish only a gnome accustomed to talking his way past executioners could muster.
“We sail under warrant and light, not shadow! Our mission is of urgency to the Crown and the Church alike — and if you drag us down here in your righteous confusion, then may Mitra’s own light bear witness that it was you who failed His will!”
He took a step forward, chest puffed, the fog swirling around his feathered hat like a halo.
“Now— stand down, show discipline, and beg forgiveness before I start writing names in my report!”
Posh makes a plea to try and convince the crew to aid in battle, but there is only silence from the hold. Then he attempts to fool your enemies, but his tone betrays the clever words, and anyway, it's unlikely that Nerianus, who found all of you on this ship and somehow knows you are agents of the enemy, could be swayed from his righteous anger.
The water elemental turns against Rayse and tries to push him out of the safety of the mist, but it's far too incompetent out of its native medium.
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore <-- We are here
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple
Nerianus
Water Elemental (-11)
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough
Dolphins
Rayse
Treesa moves forward trying to locate Rayse, staying low and moving amongst the cargo on deck. She cackles to continue the Protective Luck hex currently on Vormog.
And she quietly tells Rayse to try and stay close. "I can't activate the hex on you if I can't see you."
Rendylyn rolls her eyes as Treesa rushes past her in the mist, calling for her man. There's more in the Knot than the two of you.
She stalks north, weaving through the crates and past the little witch to the edge of the fog she's conjured. The haze parts before her and reveals the self-proclaimed champion of the waves. She grins and her red eye flares.
The triton was trying to taunt them into making mistakes. Well, two could play that game. What would The Kid say? "I'll send you to eat your god's ass, since you like him so much!" she called out, punctuating the gibe with flame.
Obscuring Mist = Round 4 of 10
“Ah, finally, something solid enough to stab!”
Posh ducked around Vormog, his small boots skidding on the wet deck as he slipped between the mist-shrouded shapes of his companions. The eerie hum of his song rose in pitch — a defiant, lilting melody that carried both mockery and menace into the fog. Each note seemed to dance on the edge of madness, buoying his allies and drowning out fear with reckless bravado.
“Come then, you dripping brute — let’s see if Mitra’s chosen bleeds seawater!”
He lunged forward, the short blade gleaming faintly in the diffuse glow of lantern light and divine blessing, thrusting at the shifting form of the water elemental as his voice crescendoed into a triumphant snarl.
Posh's surgical strike skewers the water elemental, and with an explosion of water like a bladder bursting, the summoned creature splashes to the deck, a threat no more.
For lack of legs, Nerianus stands pat on his fin feet, flippers foiling his forward flow.
"Show yourselves, cowardly agents of evil!"
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple
Nerianus
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough <-- We are here
Dolphins
Rayse
"You think we are afraid of a fair fight?" Rayce chuckled before adding in a voice that would curdle milk, "It seems to me that you are afraid, you who crept up on us while we were sleeping. Such courage! Such chivalry! You are right to be afraid for tonight YOU DIE!"
Nostrils flaring, eyes afire with bloodlust, Rayse burst from the mists, his sword describing and arc which threatened to lop one of Nerianus's arms off!
The sea remains unnaturally calm.
The mist Rendylyn conjured rolls low and clings to the deck like a living thing, but above it the night sky is clear, a cold starry dome. The moon hangs fat and bright; its reflection shimmers across the black water in a long white blade.
Arrayed along that ghostly path, sleek bodies rise and fall with the tide, crossbows poised, eyes glinting like opals in the moonlight. A school of trained dolphins lurks just beneath them, grey shadows moving in silent formation. Were the clouds drawn over the moon, they would be invisible.
And yet the heavens remain clear.
As if someone wanted this confrontation witnessed.
As if someone wanted the balance shifted.
The Prince of Darkness whispers: Let the loyal see their enemies in the light.
Nerianus stands at the bow, fins braced wide upon the planks, his silhouette sharp against the silvered sea. His trident is raised high, crest flaring, his voice ringing with the righteousness of a zealot certain of his gods and his cause.
Rendylyn's flame arcs toward him, but flickers out against the spray of a slap of seawater, kissing his scaled shoulder without burning. Nerianus sneers, lips peeling back to reveal sharp ivory teeth.
But Rayse answers him. The antipaladin bursts from the fog like a demon conjured from smoke and slaughter. His blade carves a crescent through the moonlight... and lands. Steel bites deep. Scales part. Blood darker than wine spatters across the deck and hisses where it touches Rendylyn's fading embers. Nerianus staggers, shock flashing across his face, no longer mocking, no longer confident.
The sea around the ship surges. The triton formation ripples. Several hiss in fury, beating the water in martial cadence. Dolphins churn like hounds smelling blood.
Nerianus' voice comes ragged, strained, yet still defiant: "Your blasphemies end here! Mitra’s wrath is endless! The sea itself will drag you to judgment!"
But the moon gleams red across the blade that struck him. There is judgment here tonight. Just not his.
Nerianus remains standing, furious and wounded.
The tide has turned.
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore <-- We are here
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple
Nerianus (-16)
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough
Dolphins
Rayse
Treesa steps forward to the edge of the mist and targets Rayse with her protective luck hex. She kneels down for cover from the creatures in the water and continues her cackle to extend the hex on Vormog.
From outside her bank of conjured fog, Rendylyn is a indistinct shape with one blazing red eye. She casts her contemptuous gaze on the hesitant tritons. Their leader can't steel them to board the boat and take us on hand-to-hand. Well, perhaps I can.
"Come to me, out of the water!" she calls to the one on the port side. "Come out of the water and die!"
Posh darted through the fog like a shadow in motion, boots splashing across the slick planks as he ducked beneath a swinging weapon and wove between his towering companions. His voice never faltered — the song still rising and twisting through the mist, half taunt and half triumph, a defiant hymn that sharpened courage and mocked the enemy in equal measure.
“Mind the little ones!” he called, laughter cutting through the roar of the waves.
With a flourish worthy of the stage, the gnome spun, his cloak flaring as he cracked his whip. The leather hissed through the fog, curling toward his foe’s weapon hand as he aimed to twist it free, never missing a beat of the tune that kept his comrades’ blood hot and steady.
Frosthamar continues to slowly drift...
The moonlit sea remains calm, but the deck of the Frosthamar is chaos—fog drifting in ribbons, seawater pooling slick across the planks, the ship rocking in the rhythm of the tritons circling below.
Treesa's voice cuts softly through the din. Otherworldly, unhurried, inevitable. Her fingers trace an unseen knot in the air. Protective Luck settles over Rayse like a dark blessing, and her cackle shivers outward, thin and reedy and utterly wrong, renewing Vormog's borrowed fortune as well. The sound seems to make even the moonlight ripple.
On the port side, a triton's expression slackens as Rendylyn's voice coils into his mind like smoke. Come to me...
He obeys. Awkwardly, the triton hauls himself onto the deck of the Frosthamar, seawater cascading from scales and webbing. He lands on all fours, chest heaving, eyes glazed with borrowed purpose. Exactly where she wanted him.
Near the bow, Posh's silhouette pirouettes in the mist, cloak and voice and motion all one seamless flourish. His whip flashes, the crack splitting the night like lightning, and loops around Nerianus's trident shaft. For a frozen moment the zealot's weapon shudders in his grip. The melody of Posh's song nearly turns into triumph, but Nerianus wrenches it free, muscles straining, water flying from his fins like silver spray. So close. So very close.
Nerianus snarls. "Little wretch. You will drown with the rest!"
Wounded, bleeding, pride stinging, Nerianus lunges at Rayse, trident thrusting for the antipaladin's throat.
Miss!
Treesa's luck-weaving twists the strike mid-motion. The blade of the trident skews just off line. The attack sails past Rayse's cheek and misses entirely.
For the first time this battle, Nerianus doubts.
Finally, with the small ship drifting idly, the minions of evil are exposed on deck, and the triton acolytes swarm to action, moving for better lines of sight, raising their heavy crossbows and loosing a deadly barrage at the humans tightly collected on deck.
Miss!
Hit!
Miss!
Miss!
Combat Order:
Treesa Lore
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Posh Stemtimple (-10)
Nerianus (-16)
Triton Warriors
Vormog Lough <-- We are here
Dolphins
Rayse
Rayse's dead eyes bore into Nerianus as he snarls, "YOU TALK TOO MUCH!" Dodging aside from the trident, he gleefully powers his greatsword down in an overhead chop!
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The battle breaks like a wave.
The moon hangs low above the Frosthamar, its silver reflection quivering across water slick with blood and brine. The ship rocks gently, no longer from assault, but from the slow, uneven rhythm of dying things.
The triton that Rendylyn lured from the sea glares up at Vormog with wide, glassy eyes. His gills flare once - a gasp, a prayer, a curse - before Vormog’s morningstar descends. One crushing stroke.
Steel meets scale, bone, and sinew. The head is knocked off, thudding wetly against the deck before rolling to rest against a coil of rope. Blood fountains in twin arcs, spattering Vormog’s boots and hissing where it meets the saltwater. The inquisitor’s expression is a grim mask of Asmodean judgment, the unflinching face of damnation.
Across the deck, the true storm ends.
Rayse moves like a shadow turned solid, driven by infernal fury. Nerianus, wounded and slipping, still snarls defiance, raising his trident once more as if he could strike down the darkness that mocks him. But there is no salvation in the moonlight. Rayse’s sword cleaves through it like a sermon of steel.
It catches the zealot across the chest, bites deep through scale and ribs, and exits with a sound like tearing canvas. Nerianus’s defiant cry curdles in his throat. His eyes widen, not in fear but in shock, as his body folds backward. For a heartbeat he hangs there, balanced on the edge between life and legend.
Then he falls.
His body crashes over the rail, a sprawl of fins, blood, and broken faith, and the sea claims him almost at once. The tide pulls him through the scuppers in a wash of crimson foam, the last gift of the god he thought would save him.
All around the ship, the remaining tritons hesitate. Their war song falters. The dolphins circling below slow, uncertain, their sleek backs glinting silver in the moonlight.
Then, without signal or word, they turn.
One by one, they slip beneath the surface, vanishing into the black water. The sound fades: first the splashing, then the ripples, then even the echo of them, until there is only the calm, that impossible, glassy stillness that comes when blood and saltwater finally mingle.
The Frosthamar drifts, her sails hanging limp, her deck strewn with seawater and the remnants of holy zeal. The moon gleams on the pooled blood like a dark mirror, and in its reflection, the victors stand, burned, bruised, but unbowed.
Asmodeus’ hand guided the moonlight this night. And his chosen did not disappoint.
Rendylyn splashes in the gory puddles on the deck. "I've a riddle for you, Posh, my fool! How do you drown a fish? In its own blood!"
The devil priestess crows with laughter at her own joke, then stoops to search the corpse of the one she lured to its death, looking not just for valuables, but also for some hint of rank. Was that just a mob the 'champion' put together? Or will there be some maritime military looking for us?
"You can tell our brave captain it's safe to come out now."
Treesa moves back to her position in the aft section of the ship. "I'll finish up my watch. Everyone should probably try to get back to sleep."
"Rendylyn? Do you have any more scrolls of that spell? I should have thought of that. I can add spells to what I know by a process, basically feeding them to my familiar. Had I thought of it I would have been able to cast it."
“Ha!”
Posh stomped across the blood-slick deck, whip still coiled in one hand, his cloak plastered to him with mist and gore. The moonlight gleamed off his circlet as he climbed the Frosthamar’s railing and peered into the churning black sea below, voice cutting through the settling quiet.
“Run, then! Back to your temple of bubbles and coral prayers!” he shouted into the fog, his voice bright and mocking. “Count yourselves lucky we’ve no time nor patience to chase you down tonight—or I’d be using your scales for cartographic ink by dawn!”
He stood there a moment longer, breathing hard, letting the adrenaline ebb as the sea fell still. Then, with a grin, he gave a flourishing bow toward the water.
“A pleasure, gentlemen of the deep. Do send my regards to whatever saint scrubs the decks of the drowned.”
With that, Posh turned and sauntered back across the deck, humming a few low bars of his battle tune—its jaunty rhythm now softened into something almost triumphant.
Rayse stared at the pool of blood surrounding the corpse of Nerianus for a long moment. The beast within had been stirred and now he really wanted to spend some quality time with Treesa but that was clearly not going to happen under the circumstances which was frustrating, but what could you do? Rayse thought, oh I could fantasize about going after the crew on a murderous rampage... Problem was they needed the crew still so best if he tried to think of nothing at all. Meditation wasn't Rayse's strong suit, but perhaps he thought he should try.
"It's going to be difficult to sleep, although I guess I should try." murmured Rayse, "Thanks for your protective magic, things would have gone poorly for me otherwise."
"Everyone! Before you sleep tonight, remember to express your gratitude to Asmodeus. We were blessed to behold a dark miracle tonight, and to hear the words of the Prince of Hell." Rendylyn frowns. "It is a priceless privilege, but we must strive to repay it. Pledge to make a sacrifice in His name, and let us strive harder to take captives in the future. Our duty to sacrifice to the Dark Prince aside, it's much easier to interrogate the living." She kicks the triton corpse. "I would have liked to ask this one questions."
She finishes searching the body, then turns to Treesa. "I only bought a few emergency scrolls from the Cardinal's armory, and only one of each. Sorry to disappoint you.
"Since you're staying up a while, you can help me try to retrieve the sea champion's body. I'll conjure a beast, and you tell it what we want it to do: Dive down to where he's sunk, and bear him back up to the surface. Be ready; the beast won't linger long."
Rendylyn bends her head in prayer, offering thanks and praise to Asmodeus, and beseeching a spell from him. Crouching down in the prow near where Nerianus sank, she chants an Infernal ritual, calling up an ebon nightmare in the shape of a dolphin.
Treesa nods at Rendylyn’s idea. ”Good thinking.” She activates her feral speech hex and translates the commands to bring the champions body back to the surface.
Posh groaned softly as Vormog’s healing touch burned its way through the bruises and cuts left by the battle. He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his ribs and wincing, before giving the inquisitor a grateful nod.
“Ahh—Vormog, my thanks. You’ve a finer bedside manner than most priests I’ve known… though that may say more about the company I keep.”
The gnome pushed himself to his feet, brushing off blood and seawater, his sharp eyes already roving across the deck. The sight of the triton bodies—gleaming, alien, and strange—seemed to revive his usual composure.
“Well, comrades,” he said, voice steadying as he spoke, “if these zealots came bearing gifts from the deep, let us not send them back to the abyss with them still in hand. See what they carried. Even a drowned saint might have sense enough to keep a trinket or two worth taking.”
With that, Posh stepped toward the fallen champion’s body, crouching near the slick edge of the deck where Rendylyn’s summoned beast had brought it up. He hummed faintly as he worked—an idle, thoughtful tune—as he traced symbols in the air and whispered the words of power.
“Let us see what secrets your faith could not keep…”
His vision changed as the effects of his spell shimmered into being, faint motes of radiance dancing in his reflection upon the dark water as he slowly scanned the triton leader’s body and belongings for any trace of enchantment.
The fiendish dolphin answers Rendylyn’s call, its infernal eyes glinting red beneath the moonlight as it dives, a streak of black and crimson through the surf. Within moments it returns, dragging the limp and armored corpse of the triton champion back to the surface with the ease of a thing born to kill.
When Posh bends low and mutters the words of Detect Magic, faint ripples of power shimmer across the weapon still clutched in Nerianus' dead hands.
Nerianus: +1 Trident, sea shell and pearl holy symbol of Mitra (worth 100 gp)