Agamemnon's Big Adventure

Chapter 1
In which there's a lesson, maybe.
The Sand is a hot, forbidding place. A vast inland ocean of baked dry dust and sun-bleached bones. But even here there are signs of life. The bird flies high above the hot sand, but by chance or divine intervention its droppings land in the lee of a large rock. The seeds that were the bird's lunch struggle downward, and one of them finds a patch of wet sand. The tree in the shadow of the rock continues for years in its quest to find and store what meager water it can.
The traveler stumbles wearily towards what is surely a mirage. A tree couldn't possibly grow here. There couldn't possibly be lifesaving water in its thick leaves. The traveller gives thanks, carving a beautiful holy symbol into the tree and speaking the blessings of their god before striding purposefully away.
The other traveler is dressed in a long black robe, and hates the tree as soon as they see it on the horizon. When they notice the holy symbol, they fly into a rage and attack the tree. The other traveler walks away dedicating the destruction to their god
The other bird rockets overhead on a wind current that doesn't seem to stir the drying leaves scattered across the sand below. The half empty packet of seeds that was the bird's lunch falls to the ground and lands in the shade of the rock. The seeds find a bounty of water stored in the roots of the dead tree.
Chapter 2
In which a bird gets a mission.
The cold early morning sun pierced the gloomy interior of the Planar Anchor; the worst thing to happen in weeks. Not since the undead attack had Matey wanted to rip a throat out this badly. He squinted at the blinding light and could just make out a humanoid silhouette standing on the threshold. Military bearing, female, fancy hat: Mirrax. He sighed quietly.
"Oh birdy? This place is a mess! When are you going to clean up? Is that a zombie chewing on that table leg?"
Matey groaned and lifted his head off the bar. "You leave Pete out of this, he doesn't hurt anyone."
Lady Abitha Terribeth Mirrax stepped lightly over the ruins of a table and last night's attempt at cooking by Wokka, making her way towards the bar and Matey. He glowered at her from his resting place surrounded by peanut shells and spilled Skorrian Bourbon. She sat down out of arm's reach, and began to leaf through the pile of letters from Trev, Matey's dimwitted but lightfingered informant.
"That's personal correspondence", he growled.
"But not yours, I see", she replied amiably, continuing to flick through pages of unread documents.
"I... What are you here for?"
She gently put down the letters and levelled her gaze at him. Matey shivered involuntarily. Something about her always made people want to protect their kidneys, and the effect was not lost on avians.
"I'm here to ask you for a favour", she said quietly.
Ruffling his feathers, Matey cautiously asked "And just what is this favour?"
"Let's start with the stick then end with the carrot, or in your case, the birdseed: Nobody knows I am here. I already know your tengu friend is out at the morning market with the barmaid, the stable hand has taken the day off to see an orc about a talking horse in Greyton, and the three kobolds are unconscious in the kitchen, in fact one of them appears to have drowned in a barrel."
"That's just Short Yak having breakfast" Matey interjected.
"Is that so? Well, suffice to say I like my privacy and you would do well to remember that. What I ask of you is to be held in extreme confidence."
Again, Matey couldn't hold his beak, "OK OK, a secret mission, got it. So what is it?"
"I need you to retrieve Mark and get him back to Tsar as promptly as possible", she glanced back at the pile of documents and spun the top one a quarter-turn to the left. "He is on his way to the Sand Jungles, should be nearly there in fact."
"That's one heck of a trip, Lady, what do you need him so urgently for, and why send me? Spells can reach that far."
"I have no doubt that I can reach him myself, but I don't want to. Mark's independence and roguish nature are valuable to me, so I don't want to command him to return. On the other hand his life is valuable to me, so I don't want him to stay in the Sand Jungles."
“Is there a reason why he shouldn’t stay in the Sand Jungles?”
“Yes”, she replied, smiling.
“Ok, I get it. Now, about the reward you promised?”
“I did? Well, I hope I’m doing this right, but if you complete this task for me, I won’t burn down your bar with you in it.”
“That’s definitely not how you do it.”
“Regardless, the offer stands.”
Mirrax swivelled on the chair and stood up to leave. “Sooner would be better, and remember: Mark shouldn’t learn that I want him back, make it sound natural.”
Matey continued to glare at her, as she picked her way through the mess of the tavern towards the door.
As she opened the door, she turned back to him and said “You should probably look into that bird cult while you are there. Nasty business, that.”
Matey waited a few minutes to be sure that she’d left, then struggled to his feet. After a quick bath in a bowl full of Haku’s finest paintstripper, he flew up to the rafters where he kept his kit out of reach of questing kobold fingers. His perch had certainly grown since the Vampire General incident, where he’d come into his own small fortune with nothing to spend it on except shiny objects and useful baubles. He landed on the platform and began inspecting the shelves full of gear to choose from. He strapped on his trusty utility belt and checked that it contained his disguise kit, emergency wands and odds and ends.
He thought about his likely destinations on this trip: The Sand Jungles were his original home, not that he could recall much about them. Tropical, rainy, hot, with boring villages and villagers. There’s the Gutpunch, which he will somehow need to catch up to, and possibly Tsar if he has to babysit the Captain the whole way home. As he pondered the scenarios, he grabbed items off the shelves and tucked them into the belt pouch: Tindertwigs, Thunderstones, a set of Lockpicks, loaded dice, smoke pellets, and so on. Good thing he’d had Talisa enlarge the capacity of his belt after the last adventure where he was caught lacking a couple of very useful vampire-hunting ingredients.
After he had finished packing his gear, he pulled his magic goggles over the headband that he never took off, slipped on his magical rings and checked himself in the reflective plate that he’d stolen from the kitchen. Perfect.
He swooped down to the bar, and left a short message for Haku scribbled on a menu. He stuck his head into the kitchen to check that, yes, Short Yak had indeed come up for breath after his breakfast. Taking one last look around the bar, he grabbed the letters from Trev and stuffed them into the belt, then launched himself out the window and headed directly across the square to Talisa’s shop.
Chapter 3
In which Matey goes shopping.
It was still early, and the town was only beginning to rise. Smoke climbed silently from a few chimneys and the hardiest of merchants were setting up their stalls in the cold, damp marketplace. Matey landed lightly on the window sill of Talisa’s shop and found out to his chagrin that she actually slept. He tapped a few times on the window before giving up and pulling out his lock picks and getting to work. Once he had the window open, he tucked his tools away and slipped inside.
Looking around the shop, he was drawn to a table full of obsidian daggers glittering in the dim sunlight. He landed on the table and reached out a claw towards one of the weapons when suddenly he heard a noise behind him.
“I wouldn’t touch those, Matey. Not if you like your claws where they are.” Talisa had appeared in the doorway behind the counter.
“Cursed are they?” Matey turned and looked her up and down, noting the glint in her eye and the sharp gaze that sudden wakefulness had only amplified. She was wearing a nightshirt and what looked like rabbitskin slippers.
“You could say that. Now, what can I do for you? Mark is away and I haven’t been informed of any missions for you.” Straight to the point this one, Matey noted. She clearly wasn’t a morning person.
“Well, I have a sudden urge to see the Captain, so I was hoping you could help me get there faster”
“Oh? sounds fishy, but sure I’ll indulge you. Well… “ She thought briefly to herself before continuing, ”I haven’t got anything teleporty in stock, but I’m sure we can do something about your flight speed. How good are you at riding air currents?”
Matey simply stretched out his wings in response.
“Right, good. Then this should work.” She said, reaching under a countertop and throwing him a small wooden egg. “Don’t open that here, but when you pull the pieces apart, it creates a continuous gust of wind in the direction of your choice. Putting the pieces back together will end the spell. Do try to bring it back to me, however. It’s quite valuable and I get the feeling Mark isn’t paying for this little trip of yours.”
Matey nodded as he slipped the egg into his belt. “Thanks Talisa, I knew you’d come through for me.”
"You'll also be wanting a way to find Mark too, I assume?"
Matey ruffled his feathers and replied "Right, yes, I was just about to ask that. Do you know a way?"
"Provided you have something of his, you can place it in this cup, add some water and the needle will float and point you straight at him. It doesn't have the range to reach him now however, so just try it when you get closer."
"Wonderful, thank you so much Tally."
She arched her eyebrow in reply. Matey sheepishly packed the cup into his belt and made to leave.
Chapter 4
In which the mission gets harder
After saying farewell to Talisa, Matey quickly climbed high into the sky before orienting himself in the general direction of the Sand Jungles. He retrieved the egg from of his beltpouch and, bracing himself, pulled it apart, activating the spell. Immediately a strong tailwind slammed him forward, and he needed all of his strength to hold onto the egg halves and stop himself tumbling head over tail. Eventually he was level and riding the current of magical air comfortably. He estimated his speed to be around fifty miles per hour and figured that he would catch up to the Captain by nightfall. Not a bad way to travel, he thought to himself.
Some hours later, Matey wasn't so thrilled. His wings were aching and miles of boring afternoon desert were failing to entertain him. He calculated that the sea should be coming over the horizon soon, and then it was just a matter of finding the Gutpunch somewhere between the desert coast and its island jungle destination. A short while later his measurements proved true when he spotted a beach nestled alongside the wild blue ocean. Putting the wind egg back together caused him to plummet as he shed speed against the suddenly still air, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.
A comfortable landing and a few minutes of preparation and Matey was ready to get a location. He searched quickly through his belt pouch but nothing specifically belonged to the Captain. He shrugged and dipped a claw in the cup. Presently the needle floated to the top and spun on the water before coming to rest pointing north by north east. Once he had packed the gear away again, Matey took off in the direction the magical compass had shown. A pleasant sea breeze picked up behind him and he felt no need for further assistance from Talisa's egg.
Within the hour Matey could see the telltale lines of a ship on the horizon, lines which quickly became the Gutpunch. From his vantage point he could see a large island further in the distance toward which the ship was clearly headed. Matey squawked once to announce his approach as he flew toward the ship and got a friendly wave from the lookout in reply. The Captain was not on the deck, so Matey landed on a barrel next to the wheel and nodded at the surprised Marine.
"Ho sailor, where can I find your Captain?"
"Uh, he's in his cabin, back there.. Uh, sir?" The confused Marine pointed at a solid-looking door in the aft of the vessel.
"Wonderful. Keep up the good work." Matey said, as he took off to find an open window.
Flying around to the aft of the ship, he found a small opening in the large, curtained windows that faced south. He hopped through the window and immediately found himself struggling amid luxurious fabric.
The Captain's salt-roughened voice rang out "You need help there, Matey?"
"Uh, no thanks, I'll be with you in a moment", he replied, still fighting through the thick folds of the curtains.
Eventually he was free and standing on a large table in front of a haggard-looking Killingsworth. The table was festooned with papers; maps, documents, terrifying drawings and the occasional woodcarving, which was also terrifying.
"Well?" Mark had clearly waited long enough.
"Hi!" Good start, thought Matey, who had somehow spent the whole trip not thinking about what to say to the Captain. "Well, you see, I wanted to come see you, and uh, help.. Yes, help you with all this, uh.. What is this?" Matey pointed to a sketch of a monstrous form, with far too many wings to be normal.
"That is my quarry. Or at least I think it is. I've been following up on a report from Captain Malice, who saw the Black Scar in the sky near the Sand Jungles. I think it's a Behemoth which has gone rogue and is headed this way. "
Matey gasped, and grabbed the sketch for a closer look. "Really?! A Behemoth is coming? OK.. Wow.. That explains that then."
"Explains what?"
"Oh, uh. Nothing. Did you report this to Mirrax by any chance?"
"Of course, Matey!, but I haven't gotten much back except acknowledgements of messages received."
"Right. So.." A thought occurred to Matey about something in one of those letters from Trev that he had actually read. "You don't suppose the Behemoth isn't actually rogue? Only I've been hearing chatter about some odd new bird cult in the Sand Jungle that's been getting... Unnaturally popular, recently." He pulled out the sheaf of letters from his best and added to the table’s already sizeable paper load.
"Here it is," he found the letter from Bitali and passed it to the Captain.
Killingsworth started reading, stopping occasionally to eyeball Matey. "Bird cults? How long has this been going on?"
Matey pondered before replying, "Well I don't know exactly, but I heard it became quite the crime to imprison birds on the islands after it started growing. So it must have been after I was caught... Within 2 years, I expect. This new one I've never heard of, and it gives me the chills."
Killingsworth put the paper back down and started to rummage for something. Matey looked at the letter again from the side, and noticed something:
Orange
Raven-
Crow
Uniting
Spirit

Orcus! So that's what Mirrax had noticed, thought Matey. "Um, Captain, I think we have a problem. Looks like the new bird cult is a front for an Orcusite cult."
Killingsworth looked at the letter again, "Hmm, they never were that inventive, were they? Looks like we might be sailing into choppy waters, Matey "
Chapter 5
In which a party gets started.
Matey and Killingsworth were still in cabin as the day cooled into evening. A crewman had just brought them supper when the call came from the lookout above.
"Land ho! And torches!"
Presently there came a knock on the cabin and a marine stepped in to address the Captain.
"Sir, the lookout has spotted several small vessels between us and our destination."
"Thank you Lieutenant Johnson, I'll be right out, " he said, turning and grabbing his hat and weapon belt. "Matey, care to join me on deck?"
"Sounds like that trouble we were expecting is already here" Matey replied as he hopped off the table and made himself comfortable on the Captain's shoulder. When he had first met Mark, such a perch was unthinkably awkward. But after many nights of helping Haku cheat him at cards, he felt right at home.
The sailors and marines turned to salute as the Captain stepped out and made his way to the prow. First Mate Dirty Lizzy was waiting there and handed him a spyglass.
"You can just make out the canoes and rafts from the torchlight. It looks like the local tribe is trying to blockade our landing." She looked oddly at Matey while reporting to Killingsworth. "You're new," she said, looking at his belt and goggles. "I assume you are Matey?"
Matey nodded, sliding his magical goggles down over his eyes and peering at the distant blockade. "Cap, it looks like they are entirely mundane, but there's something odd about that cove behind them."
"I guess we should try the diplomatic approach first, this isn't the Great Downwards, after all." Killingsworth signaled to a marine, who brought over a cone-shaped object that Matey recognized as a volume enhancer. "Hello, this is Captain Mark Killingsworth of the Gutpunch, sailing for the Mirrax Marines. You will stand down and move aside immediately, or else."
Matey looked at the Captain, momentarily blinding himself with the goggles. "That's what you call diplomacy?"
In answer to both Killingsworth's demand and Matey's question, a spear flew out of the darkness and thudded into the deck nearby.
"Right then, so much for diplomacy," said Mark with a sudden grin on his face. "Light 'em up, Lieutenant! Drive them off!"
The marine turned smartly on his heels and started barking orders. The ship turned slightly to port as two men wrangled one of the starboard ballistae into position. The Lieutenant opened a suspiciously waterproof crate nearby and gingerly lifted a long, thin package from its padded interior. He placed it onto the racked ballista and stepped back while the sailors took aim.
The Mark IV Partystarter bolt had been recently developed by a Mirrax weapons designer after seeing one of Killingsworth's more exuberant party tricks at the last solstice fair. It was cynically called a "waterborne crowd suppression tool" but like all military terminology it could do a lot more damage than the name indicated.
"Fire!" Shouted the Lieutenant, causing Killingsworth to suppress a chuckle.
The bolt lanced out parallel to the water, quickly losing height until it plowed into the waves right before the cluster of boats. At first nothing happened, but then the sea started to bubble and suddenly flames erupted from the surface, spreading rapidly. The boat belonging to the errant spearthrower was the closest to the flames and, as the wall of fire approached, the tribesman shouted a warning and launched himself into the water, swimming furiously towards the other canoes.
Matey watched as the flames roared across the water, engulfing the canoe and racing towards the retreating back of the swimmer. Soon enough they caught up to him and a gurgling scream rang out. The flames stopped expanding just before the line of canoes and settled in to placidly burn away the remaining propellant floating on the surface.
"Sorry sir, looks like we overshot by a few yards" called the Lieutenant.
"Not to fear, Lieutenant. Perhaps this will encourage the rest to move out of our way faster." Killingsworth looked unconcerned.
"Enemies retreating!" Shouted the lookout from atop the main mast. The canoes had turned and abandoned the charred remains of the spearthrower and his boat, rowing back to shore.
"There, nothing to worry about lads. Full speed ahead, if you please. Go around the flames, mind you!" Killingsworth turned and started towards his cabin.
"Belay that, something's coming out of the cove! Something big!"
Matey could hear the note of fear in the lookout's voice. He looked again with his magical goggles and noticed a blurry black patch moving towards the flames. He struggled to remember what Talisa had said black stood for in the magical spectrum.
“A big ship approaching fast, dead ahead!” came the shout from the crow’s nest.
Suddenly the flames parted and a tremendous inky shadow appeared out of the smoke. As the fire illuminated the sides of the massive ship, Matey could see they were made entirely of iron. How could such a vessel stay afloat, he wondered.
“‘Black Dog’ Marley”, Killingsworth scowled as he spat out the name, “I thought he was dead.”
“You recognise the ship?” said Matey.
“Aye, and a cursed ship it is”, replied Killingsworth. "Prepare for boarders!" He shouted to the crew, adjusting his weapon belt and drawing his exotic sword.
First Mate Lizzy's only preparation was to draw the twin short swords she always had at her sides. With that done, she opined quietly "It's a calm night, Captain, surely we can outrun them?"
"That bastard's ship no more needs the winds than we do. It runs on blood and hate, and believe me, there is no lost love between us."
On that dire note, Matey flew up to the closest mast above the suddenly bustling deck and watched the crew prepare. Weapon stores were opened and every sailor issued with a sword and a hatchet, to cut boarding ropes. The marines had finished securing the useless ballistae and were checking their equipment. Lieutenant Johnson grimly readied his Dragon Pistol and cutlass.
From his vantage point, Matey could just make out the deck of the enemy ship, swarming with shadows of inhuman movements. He gasped and then shouted to warn the others. "Captain, the enemy crew is undead! Looks like skeletons and ghouls!"
"Thanks for the heads up, Matey. Looks like Marley has changed his tactics since I last buried him!" Killingsworth turned to address the nervous crew.
"Alright lads, looks like we've got some undead to take care of. You lot, swap those swords for clubs. Bennie, Geoff, fetch the holy water from the galley. The rest of you, aim for the neck, just like we practiced."
Another burst of activity took place below Matey while he pulled a bottle of holy water out of his belt pouch and took another glance at the approaching monster of a ship. He still couldn't remember what black meant in his goggles and it was bothering him. The color seemed to be centered around the back half of the ship, obscuring his sight such that he had to take the goggles off to get a good view of the enemy captain.
Standing more than 7ft tall, the hulking mass of muscle and bad life choices known as 'Black Dog' Marley was dressed in a torn and filthy black tunic which might have once been a robe. He carried two heavy axes and wore no adornments beyond a large golden necklace. His face was twisted into a death rictus, terrifying Mate like never before. His skin was grey and hung loosely from his face and legs. Where it was pulled taut across the massive arms it appeared almost translucent. Matey could see the monster of a man shouting at the undead soldiers on the deck, all preparing for boarding.
The ironclad was nearly on top of the Gutpunch by the time the first grappling hook landed on the deck and caught on a crate. One of the sailors was quick to sever the rope but several more landed in the next wave and pulled the two ships closer together. Johnson opened fire with his Dragon Pistol, bathing the ropes with flames which quickly burned them away.
The helmsman shouted and spun the wheel hard away from the ironclad, causing several grappling hooks and overeager ghouls to fall short and splash into the dark water that opened up between the ships. The sailors and marines all kept their footing during the hasty maneuver, ready for the next wave which was sure to come. Every man and woman on board the ship knew that standing firm was the safest plan, letting the undead come on board and cutting them down where they landed. Even so, the anticipation was building and with it, a taste of dread in their mouths.
The ironclad had soon come about and pulled up level with the Gutpunch, looking to close the gap between them again. More grappling hooks sailed across the dark gulf, embedding into the wood of the deck and railing. Sailors scrambled to cut the ropes as they pulled taut. Matey could see something on the other deck, and squawked a warning as he saw Marley drop both of his axes and heft a great iron anchor laden with chain. He swung it once to gauge the weight and on the second swing Matey could see the muscles bulging under his black tunic as he let the anchor fly.
The marines had time to duck for cover before the anchor crashed into the deck, but one of the sailors was not fast enough, getting both of his legs crushed by the impact and dragged partway across the deck before the anchor caught on the main mast.
The chain was still being hauled in by the ironclad’s captain when the ghouls began climbing across it to be the first to reach the Gutpunch’s deck. One-by-one they reached the deck and were cut down by the relaxed strokes of Killingsworth’s sword, Lizzy and the marines hurried to throw the bodies overboard, but the gap was being quickly closed by the brute strength of the Black Dog himself.
As soon as the ironclad had been pulled close enough, skeletons started to swarm over the side and drop down onto the deck, where the crew waited with clubs and swords at the ready. Matey watched the ensuing melee with a sharp eye, shouting the occasional warning to a sailor that was about to be ambushed by a new arrival. His other eye stayed unwaveringly on Marley, who was presently tying the anchor chain around his own ship’s mast.
Undead and sailors swirled across the deck in mortal combat. The Marines held the stairs to the quarterdeck, keeping the helmsman free from harm while he tried to keep the ship from being damaged. The wizards normally powering the ship's magic circles had joined the fight with relish, blasting ghouls and skeletons to ash. Matey could see the enemy captain retrieving his axes and preparing to board so he shouted a warning to Killingsworth, who peeled off from the melee and prepared to face his foe.
Chapter 6
In which Mark and Matey meet their match.
The heavy thud reverberated through the wooden structure of the ship as ‘Black Dog’ Marley landed on the deck and straightened up to his impressive height. He turned towards Killingsworth, ignoring the melee around him. “We meet again, Dyingsworth!” His voice rasped like claws on a gravestone.
“You never were one for witty remarks, Marley” replied Killingsworth while casting a haste spell on himself, Lizzy and some nearby crew.
Marley started advancing across the deck, swatting away sailors and undead alike to clear his path. "Always with the magic, Killingswimp. About time you faced someone in a fair fight!" To emphasize "fair", he nudged the golden necklace with one of his axes.
Matey shrugged down his goggles again to take a look at what was going on, and saw that, while Killingsworth was a glowing swirl of colours, Marley had brought that sinister black sphere of energy across with him. Still unsure what the color signified, he nevertheless shouted down to Killingsworth: "Look out Captain, there's some kind of magical aura around him!"
The Captain of the Gutpunch nodded grimly and Matey could see caution tempering his stance. Killingsworth held out his hand towards the oncoming titan and muttered a spell. Triple beams of fire flashed from the open palm in the direction of Marley but failed to land, all three rays vanishing before they could hit him.
"Your spells won't work on me, Killingswhelp! See, Orcus prepares those he chooses for the glory they deserve." Marley was close to him now, nearly at striking range with those twin axes.
"The only thing you deserve is another watery grave, Marley!" He raised his sword and lunged at the orcusite. Matey could see something go wrong midswing, as the Captain stumbled into the black aura, nearly dropping his sword. He winced, grabbing his head with his free hand and retreating to the side.
Marley turned again to face him and swung his axes in blurringly fast arcs towards Killingsworth's chest. One glanced off the duller-than-usual mithril breastplate but the other sliced into his hip and drew blood. Killingsworth gritted his teeth and steadied himself, returning to a clean fencing stance.
"An Antimagic Field, Marley? That's the best your god can do? Let me tell you about my god, he who favors the lucky with luck and the skillful with skill."
In one smooth motion, Killingsworth drew and threw a dagger from his belt while crouching low and launching himself under the arc of the incoming axes. The dagger glinted in the firelight, his unmeasured throw carrying a prayer to Rhombodazzle for a little luck in exchange for the chaos such luck could bring.
Matey watched the hilt of the dagger sprout from Marley's left eye socket just as Killingsworth's sword sliced open the monster’s right leg, revealing rotten flesh and a putrid, yellowing bone. He launched himself from his vantage point, looking to capitalize on the sudden change in pace, and dived towards the foul monster below. First Mate Lizzy had the same idea, ducking around Marley into his newly-blinded side and preparing to strike.
Marley, who had scarcely noticed the attacks, quickly swung his axes around, bringing one up pointing at Lizzy and turning the other flat to swat Matey out of the sky. "My eyes see more than you think, mortals! You cannot hide from me while you live!"
Only the sudden change in balance from entering the antimagic field saved Matey from being collected by the heavy swing of the flat axehead. The loss of momentum, however, made him miss his target and fly past Marley's head.
Matey recovered before he hit the deck and climbed back into the air above the melee, while Lizzy kept her distance and Killingsworth turned and grinned.
"It's going to take more than that to best us, Marley. Have you noticed your crew are having difficulty standing? Feeling any pain in your feet, perhaps?"
Marley stopped to look around at the melee, noticing his crew for the first time. They did indeed look like they were having problems, hopping as if standing on hot coals and being cut down with ease by even the most junior of the crew. "What have you done? Killingswuss? Some kind of magic trick?"
"Oh nothing so fancy. Just, the water we swab the deck with is a little...holy." He emphasized the last word, gesturing at the crewmen behind him that had just emerged from below deck.
On his signal, Bennie and Geoff started smashing the barrels they had fetched from the galley. Water gushed out and flooded the decks, flowing down to the melee. The impact was immediate: ghouls shrieked horribly and skeletons collapsed and shattered on contact. Marley himself suffered the worst of it, but stood his ground implacably as the water parted around him. The sizzle of burning, decomposing flesh filled the air and Matey couldn't help the queer growl of his stomach reminding him of the time since he last ate.
"You think that's enough to defeat me? You're so wrong!" Screamed Marley.
Matey saw a marine step up behind the monster and aim a dragon pistol at his back. He curved around and dropped into another dive, timing his holy water drop to the marine's attack. Killingsworth's eyes flicked up to watch and he too readied for another strike.
Unexpectedly, Marley spun on the spot, grinding his own boiling feet into the deck, and threw his left axe at the Marine. It flew true and lodged itself in his stomach. Marley displayed speed that belied his size and took a giant step forward, pulling the axe back out of the stricken marine before he even had a chance to fall. The other axe swung back up towards Matey, who was forced to abandon his dive again.
Lieutenant Johnson was on the other side of the boat fending off a particularly vicious ghoul when he saw his man go down. Dispatching his foe with renewed fervor, he shouted a command to his remaining squad and they started to clear a small area for him to get to work. He loosened some ropes and set to with a spanner, removing one of the bolts from the ballista mount and swivelling it to face the masts. The marines pushed forward and one of them made a grab for the waterproof storage crate, snatching one of the long, thin packages and tossing it to Johnson, who racked it and shouted for help aiming the huge siege weapon.
Killingsworth was still dancing away from Marley’s twin axes, wracking his brain for a spell that might penetrate an antimagic field when a shout came from the other side of the ship and he dropped instinctively. Before he had even realised what was happening, he was laying on the deck watching as a familiar-looking bolt sprung from the mighty ballista, lodged itself into the chest of Black Dog Marley and propelled him over the side of the ship, over the deck of the ironclad and into the darkness beyond. Just before Killingsworth expected to hear a distant splash, there was a tremendous flash as the entire payload of the Mark IV Partystarter Bolt detonated at once. The fireball bathed the decks of the intertwined ships in a fierce orange light before the shockwave threw the undead and crew to their knees.
The Captain and his crew were the first to recover. Taking advantage of the suddenly lethargy that had stricken the undead with the death of their leader, they cleared off the deck and secured the ship. Once the wizards had severed the anchor chain of the ironclad, it drifted off into the darkness away from the land, a silent shadow on the now-still seas.
To Be Continued...

Live and Let Fly (Part 1)

Chapter 1
In which there's a lesson, maybe.

The Sand is a hot, forbidding place. A vast inland ocean of baked dry dust and sun-bleached bones. But even here there are signs of life. The bird flies high above the hot sand, but by chance or divine intervention its droppings land in the lee of a large rock. The seeds that were the bird's lunch struggle downward, and one of them finds a patch of wet sand. The tree in the shadow of the rock continues for years in its quest to find and store what meager water it can.

The traveler stumbles wearily towards what is surely a mirage. A tree couldn't possibly grow here. There couldn't possibly be lifesaving water in its thick leaves. The traveller gives thanks, carving a beautiful holy symbol into the tree and speaking the blessings of their god before striding purposefully away.

The other traveler is dressed in a long black robe, and hates the tree as soon as they see it on the horizon. When they notice the holy symbol, they fly into a rage and attack the tree. The other traveler walks away dedicating the destruction to their god

The other bird rockets overhead on a wind current that doesn't seem to stir the drying leaves scattered across the sand below. The half empty packet of seeds that was the bird's lunch falls to the ground and lands in the shade of the rock. The seeds find a bounty of water stored in the roots of the dead tree.

Chapter 2
In which a bird gets a mission.

The cold early morning sun pierced the gloomy interior of the Planar Anchor; the worst thing to happen in weeks. Not since the undead attack had Matey wanted to rip a throat out this badly. He squinted at the blinding light and could just make out a humanoid silhouette standing on the threshold. Military bearing, female, fancy hat: Mirrax. He sighed quietly.

"Oh birdy? This place is a mess! When are you going to clean up? Is that a zombie chewing on that table leg?"

Matey groaned and lifted his head off the bar. "You leave Pete out of this, he doesn't hurt anyone."

Lady Abitha Terribeth Mirrax stepped lightly over the ruins of a table and last night's attempt at cooking by Wokka, making her way towards the bar and Matey. He glowered at her from his resting place surrounded by peanut shells and spilled Skorrian Bourbon. She sat down out of arm's reach, and began to leaf through the pile of letters from Trev, Matey's dimwitted but lightfingered informant.

"That's personal correspondence", he growled.

"But not yours, I see", she replied amiably, continuing to flick through pages of unread documents.

"I... What are you here for?"

She gently put down the letters and levelled her gaze at him. Matey shivered involuntarily. Something about her always made people want to protect their kidneys, and the effect was not lost on avians.

"I'm here to ask you for a favour", she said quietly.

Ruffling his feathers, Matey cautiously asked "And just what is this favour?"

"Let's start with the stick then end with the carrot, or in your case, the birdseed: Nobody knows I am here. I already know your tengu friend is out at the morning market with the barmaid, the stable hand has taken the day off to see an orc about a talking horse in Greyton, and the three kobolds are unconscious in the kitchen, in fact one of them appears to have drowned in a barrel."

"That's just Short Yak having breakfast" Matey interjected.

"Is that so? Well, suffice to say I like my privacy and you would do well to remember that. What I ask of you is to be held in extreme confidence."

Again, Matey couldn't hold his beak, "OK OK, a secret mission, got it. So what is it?"

"I need you to retrieve Mark and get him back to Tsar as promptly as possible", she glanced back at the pile of documents and spun the top one a quarter-turn to the left. "He is on his way to the Sand Jungles, should be nearly there in fact."

"That's one heck of a trip, Lady, what do you need him so urgently for, and why send me? Spells can reach that far."

"I have no doubt that I can reach him myself, but I don't want to. Mark's independence and roguish nature are valuable to me, so I don't want to command him to return. On the other hand his life is valuable to me, so I don't want him to stay in the Sand Jungles."

“Is there a reason why he shouldn’t stay in the Sand Jungles?”

“Yes”, she replied, smiling.

“Ok, I get it. Now, about the reward you promised?”

“I did? Well, I hope I’m doing this right, but if you complete this task for me, I won’t burn down your bar with you in it.”

“That’s definitely not how you do it.”

“Regardless, the offer stands.”

Mirrax swivelled on the chair and stood up to leave. “Sooner would be better, and remember: Mark shouldn’t learn that I want him back, make it sound natural.”

Matey continued to glare at her, as she picked her way through the mess of the tavern towards the door.

As she opened the door, she turned back to him and said “You should probably look into that bird cult while you are there. Nasty business, that.”

Matey waited a few minutes to be sure that she’d left, then struggled to his feet. After a quick bath in a bowl full of Haku’s finest paintstripper, he flew up to the rafters where he kept his kit out of reach of questing kobold fingers. His perch had certainly grown since the Vampire General incident, where he’d come into his own small fortune with nothing to spend it on except shiny objects and useful baubles. He landed on the platform and began inspecting the shelves full of gear to choose from. He strapped on his trusty utility belt and checked that it contained his disguise kit, emergency wands and odds and ends.

He thought about his likely destinations on this trip: The Sand Jungles were his original home, not that he could recall much about them. Tropical, rainy, hot, with boring villages and villagers. There’s the Gutpunch, which he will somehow need to catch up to, and possibly Tsar if he has to babysit the Captain the whole way home. As he pondered the scenarios, he grabbed items off the shelves and tucked them into the belt pouch: Tindertwigs, Thunderstones, a set of Lockpicks, loaded dice, smoke pellets, and so on. Good thing he’d had Talisa enlarge the capacity of his belt after the last adventure where he was caught lacking a couple of very useful vampire-hunting ingredients.

After he had finished packing his gear, he pulled his magic goggles over the headband that he never took off, slipped on his magical rings and checked himself in the reflective plate that he’d stolen from the kitchen. Perfect.

He swooped down to the bar, and left a short message for Haku scribbled on a menu. He stuck his head into the kitchen to check that, yes, Short Yak had indeed come up for breath after his breakfast. Taking one last look around the bar, he grabbed the letters from Trev and stuffed them into the belt, then launched himself out the window and headed directly across the square to Talisa’s shop.

Chapter 3
In which Matey goes shopping.

It was still early, and the town was only beginning to rise. Smoke climbed silently from a few chimneys and the hardiest of merchants were setting up their stalls in the cold, damp marketplace. Matey landed lightly on the window sill of Talisa’s shop and found out to his chagrin that she actually slept. He tapped a few times on the window before giving up and pulling out his lock picks and getting to work. Once he had the window open, he tucked his tools away and slipped inside.

Looking around the shop, he was drawn to a table full of obsidian daggers glittering in the dim sunlight. He landed on the table and reached out a claw towards one of the weapons when suddenly he heard a noise behind him.

“I wouldn’t touch those, Matey. Not if you like your claws where they are.” Talisa had appeared in the doorway behind the counter.

“Cursed are they?” Matey turned and looked her up and down, noting the glint in her eye and the sharp gaze that sudden wakefulness had only amplified. She was wearing a nightshirt and what looked like rabbitskin slippers.

“You could say that. Now, what can I do for you? Mark is away and I haven’t been informed of any missions for you.” Straight to the point this one, Matey noted. She clearly wasn’t a morning person.

“Well, I have a sudden urge to see the Captain, so I was hoping you could help me get there faster”

“Oh? sounds fishy, but sure I’ll indulge you. Well… “ She thought briefly to herself before continuing, ”I haven’t got anything teleporty in stock, but I’m sure we can do something about your flight speed. How good are you at riding air currents?”

Matey simply stretched out his wings in response.

“Right, good. Then this should work.” She said, reaching under a countertop and throwing him a small wooden egg. “Don’t open that here, but when you pull the pieces apart, it creates a continuous gust of wind in the direction of your choice. Putting the pieces back together will end the spell. Do try to bring it back to me, however. It’s quite valuable and I get the feeling Mark isn’t paying for this little trip of yours.”

Matey nodded as he slipped the egg into his belt. “Thanks Talisa, I knew you’d come through for me.”

"You'll also be wanting a way to find Mark too, I assume?"

Matey ruffled his feathers and replied "Right, yes, I was just about to ask that. Do you know a way?"

"Provided you have something of his, you can place it in this cup, add some water and the needle will float and point you straight at him. It doesn't have the range to reach him now however, so just try it when you get closer."

"Wonderful, thank you so much Tally."

She arched her eyebrow in reply. Matey sheepishly packed the cup into his belt and made to leave.

Chapter 4
In which the mission gets harder

After saying farewell to Talisa, Matey quickly climbed high into the sky before orienting himself in the general direction of the Sand Jungles. He retrieved the egg from of his beltpouch and, bracing himself, pulled it apart, activating the spell. Immediately a strong tailwind slammed him forward, and he needed all of his strength to hold onto the egg halves and stop himself tumbling head over tail. Eventually he was level and riding the current of magical air comfortably. He estimated his speed to be around fifty miles per hour and figured that he would catch up to the Captain by nightfall. Not a bad way to travel, he thought to himself.

Some hours later, Matey wasn't so thrilled. His wings were aching and miles of boring afternoon desert were failing to entertain him. He calculated that the sea should be coming over the horizon soon, and then it was just a matter of finding the Gutpunch somewhere between the desert coast and its island jungle destination. A short while later his measurements proved true when he spotted a beach nestled alongside the wild blue ocean. Putting the wind egg back together caused him to plummet as he shed speed against the suddenly still air, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

A comfortable landing and a few minutes of preparation and Matey was ready to get a location. He searched quickly through his belt pouch but nothing specifically belonged to the Captain. He shrugged and dipped a claw in the cup. Presently the needle floated to the top and spun on the water before coming to rest pointing north by north east. Once he had packed the gear away again, Matey took off in the direction the magical compass had shown. A pleasant sea breeze picked up behind him and he felt no need for further assistance from Talisa's egg.

Within the hour Matey could see the telltale lines of a ship on the horizon, lines which quickly became the Gutpunch. From his vantage point he could see a large island further in the distance toward which the ship was clearly headed. Matey squawked once to announce his approach as he flew toward the ship and got a friendly wave from the lookout in reply. The Captain was not on the deck, so Matey landed on a barrel next to the wheel and nodded at the surprised Marine.

"Ho sailor, where can I find your Captain?"

"Uh, he's in his cabin, back there.. Uh, sir?" The confused Marine pointed at a solid-looking door in the aft of the vessel.

"Wonderful. Keep up the good work." Matey said, as he took off to find an open window.

Flying around to the aft of the ship, he found a small opening in the large, curtained windows that faced south. He hopped through the window and immediately found himself struggling amid luxurious fabric.

The Captain's salt-roughened voice rang out "You need help there, Matey?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'll be with you in a moment", he replied, still fighting through the thick folds of the curtains.

Eventually he was free and standing on a large table in front of a haggard-looking Killingsworth. The table was festooned with papers; maps, documents, terrifying drawings and the occasional woodcarving, which was also terrifying.

"Well?" Mark had clearly waited long enough.

"Hi!" Good start, thought Matey, who had somehow spent the whole trip not thinking about what to say to the Captain. "Well, you see, I wanted to come see you, and uh, help.. Yes, help you with all this, uh.. What is this?" Matey pointed to a sketch of a monstrous form, with far too many wings to be normal.

"That is my quarry. Or at least I think it is. I've been following up on a report from Captain Malice, who saw the Black Scar in the sky near the Sand Jungles. I think it's a Behemoth which has gone rogue and is headed this way. "

Matey gasped, and grabbed the sketch for a closer look. "Really?! A Behemoth is coming? OK.. Wow.. That explains that then."

"Explains what?"

"Oh, uh. Nothing. Did you report this to Mirrax by any chance?"

"Of course, Matey!, but I haven't gotten much back except acknowledgements of messages received."

"Right. So.." A thought occurred to Matey about something in one of those letters from Trev that he had actually read. "You don't suppose the Behemoth isn't actually rogue? Only I've been hearing chatter about some odd new bird cult in the Sand Jungle that's been getting... Unnaturally popular, recently." He pulled out the sheaf of letters from his best and added to the table’s already sizeable paper load.

"Here it is," he found the letter from Bitali and passed it to the Captain.

Killingsworth started reading, stopping occasionally to eyeball Matey. "Bird cults? How long has this been going on?"

Matey pondered before replying, "Well I don't know exactly, but I heard it became quite the crime to imprison birds on the islands after it started growing. So it must have been after I was caught... Within 2 years, I expect. This new one I've never heard of, and it gives me the chills."

Killingsworth put the paper back down and started to rummage for something. Matey looked at the letter again from the side, and noticed something:

Orange
Raven-
Crow
Uniting
Spirit

Orcus! So that's what Mirrax had noticed, thought Matey. "Um, Captain, I think we have a problem. Looks like the new bird cult is a front for an Orcusite cult."

Killingsworth looked at the letter again, "Hmm, they never were that inventive, were they? Looks like we might be sailing into choppy waters, Matey "

Chapter 5
In which a party gets started.

Matey and Killingsworth were still in cabin as the day cooled into evening. A crewman had just brought them supper when the call came from the lookout above.

"Land ho! And torches!"

Presently there came a knock on the cabin and a marine stepped in to address the Captain.

"Sir, the lookout has spotted several small vessels between us and our destination."

"Thank you Lieutenant Johnson, I'll be right out, " he said, turning and grabbing his hat and weapon belt. "Matey, care to join me on deck?"

"Sounds like that trouble we were expecting is already here" Matey replied as he hopped off the table and made himself comfortable on the Captain's shoulder. When he had first met Mark, such a perch was unthinkably awkward. But after many nights of helping Haku cheat him at cards, he felt right at home.

The sailors and marines turned to salute as the Captain stepped out and made his way to the prow. First Mate Dirty Lizzy was waiting there and handed him a spyglass.

"You can just make out the canoes and rafts from the torchlight. It looks like the local tribe is trying to blockade our landing." She looked oddly at Matey while reporting to Killingsworth. "You're new," she said, looking at his belt and goggles. "I assume you are Matey?"

Matey nodded, sliding his magical goggles down over his eyes and peering at the distant blockade. "Cap, it looks like they are entirely mundane, but there's something odd about that cove behind them."

"I guess we should try the diplomatic approach first, this isn't the Great Downwards, after all." Killingsworth signaled to a marine, who brought over a cone-shaped object that Matey recognized as a volume enhancer. "Hello, this is Captain Mark Killingsworth of the Gutpunch, sailing for the Mirrax Marines. You will stand down and move aside immediately, or else."

Matey looked at the Captain, momentarily blinding himself with the goggles. "That's what you call diplomacy?"

In answer to both Killingsworth's demand and Matey's question, a spear flew out of the darkness and thudded into the deck nearby.

"Right then, so much for diplomacy," said Mark with a sudden grin on his face. "Light 'em up, Lieutenant! Drive them off!"

The marine turned smartly on his heels and started barking orders. The ship turned slightly to port as two men wrangled one of the starboard ballistae into position. The Lieutenant opened a suspiciously waterproof crate nearby and gingerly lifted a long, thin package from its padded interior. He placed it onto the racked ballista and stepped back while the sailors took aim.

The Mark IV Partystarter bolt had been recently developed by a Mirrax weapons designer after seeing one of Killingsworth's more exuberant party tricks at the last solstice fair. It was cynically called a "waterborne crowd suppression tool" but like all military terminology it could do a lot more damage than the name indicated.

"Fire!" Shouted the Lieutenant, causing Killingsworth to suppress a chuckle.

The bolt lanced out parallel to the water, quickly losing height until it plowed into the waves right before the cluster of boats. At first nothing happened, but then the sea started to bubble and suddenly flames erupted from the surface, spreading rapidly. The boat belonging to the errant spearthrower was the closest to the flames and, as the wall of fire approached, the tribesman shouted a warning and launched himself into the water, swimming furiously towards the other canoes.

Matey watched as the flames roared across the water, engulfing the canoe and racing towards the retreating back of the swimmer. Soon enough they caught up to him and a gurgling scream rang out. The flames stopped expanding just before the line of canoes and settled in to placidly burn away the remaining propellant floating on the surface.

"Sorry sir, looks like we overshot by a few yards" called the Lieutenant.

"Not to fear, Lieutenant. Perhaps this will encourage the rest to move out of our way faster." Killingsworth looked unconcerned.

"Enemies retreating!" Shouted the lookout from atop the main mast. The canoes had turned and abandoned the charred remains of the spearthrower and his boat, rowing back to shore.

"There, nothing to worry about lads. Full speed ahead, if you please. Go around the flames, mind you!" Killingsworth turned and started towards his cabin.

"Belay that, something's coming out of the cove! Something big!"

Matey could hear the note of fear in the lookout's voice. He looked again with his magical goggles and noticed a blurry black patch moving towards the flames. He struggled to remember what Talisa had said black stood for in the magical spectrum.

“A big ship approaching fast, dead ahead!” came the shout from the crow’s nest.

Suddenly the flames parted and a tremendous inky shadow appeared out of the smoke. As the fire illuminated the sides of the massive ship, Matey could see they were made entirely of iron. How could such a vessel stay afloat, he wondered.

“‘Black Dog’ Marley”, Killingsworth scowled as he spat out the name, “I thought he was dead.”

“You recognise the ship?” said Matey.

“Aye, and a cursed ship it is”, replied Killingsworth. "Prepare for boarders!" He shouted to the crew, adjusting his weapon belt and drawing his exotic sword.

First Mate Lizzy's only preparation was to draw the twin short swords she always had at her sides. With that done, she opined quietly "It's a calm night, Captain, surely we can outrun them?"

"That bastard's ship no more needs the winds than we do. It runs on blood and hate, and believe me, there is no lost love between us."

On that dire note, Matey flew up to the closest mast above the suddenly bustling deck and watched the crew prepare. Weapon stores were opened and every sailor issued with a sword and a hatchet, to cut boarding ropes. The marines had finished securing the useless ballistae and were checking their equipment. Lieutenant Johnson grimly readied his Dragon Pistol and cutlass.

From his vantage point, Matey could just make out the deck of the enemy ship, swarming with shadows of inhuman movements. He gasped and then shouted to warn the others. "Captain, the enemy crew is undead! Looks like skeletons and ghouls!"

"Thanks for the heads up, Matey. Looks like Marley has changed his tactics since I last buried him!" Killingsworth turned to address the nervous crew.

"Alright lads, looks like we've got some undead to take care of. You lot, swap those swords for clubs. Bennie, Geoff, fetch the holy water from the galley. The rest of you, aim for the neck, just like we practiced."

Another burst of activity took place below Matey while he pulled a bottle of holy water out of his belt pouch and took another glance at the approaching monster of a ship. He still couldn't remember what black meant in his goggles and it was bothering him. The color seemed to be centered around the back half of the ship, obscuring his sight such that he had to take the goggles off to get a good view of the enemy captain.

Standing more than 7ft tall, the hulking mass of muscle and bad life choices known as 'Black Dog' Marley was dressed in a torn and filthy black tunic which might have once been a robe. He carried two heavy axes and wore no adornments beyond a large golden necklace. His face was twisted into a death rictus, terrifying Mate like never before. His skin was grey and hung loosely from his face and legs. Where it was pulled taut across the massive arms it appeared almost translucent. Matey could see the monster of a man shouting at the undead soldiers on the deck, all preparing for boarding.

The ironclad was nearly on top of the Gutpunch by the time the first grappling hook landed on the deck and caught on a crate. One of the sailors was quick to sever the rope but several more landed in the next wave and pulled the two ships closer together. Johnson opened fire with his Dragon Pistol, bathing the ropes with flames which quickly burned them away.

The helmsman shouted and spun the wheel hard away from the ironclad, causing several grappling hooks and overeager ghouls to fall short and splash into the dark water that opened up between the ships. The sailors and marines all kept their footing during the hasty maneuver, ready for the next wave which was sure to come. Every man and woman on board the ship knew that standing firm was the safest plan, letting the undead come on board and cutting them down where they landed. Even so, the anticipation was building and with it, a taste of dread in their mouths.

The ironclad had soon come about and pulled up level with the Gutpunch, looking to close the gap between them again. More grappling hooks sailed across the dark gulf, embedding into the wood of the deck and railing. Sailors scrambled to cut the ropes as they pulled taut. Matey could see something on the other deck, and squawked a warning as he saw Marley drop both of his axes and heft a great iron anchor laden with chain. He swung it once to gauge the weight and on the second swing Matey could see the muscles bulging under his black tunic as he let the anchor fly.

The marines had time to duck for cover before the anchor crashed into the deck, but one of the sailors was not fast enough, getting both of his legs crushed by the impact and dragged partway across the deck before the anchor caught on the main mast.

The chain was still being hauled in by the ironclad’s captain when the ghouls began climbing across it to be the first to reach the Gutpunch’s deck. One-by-one they reached the deck and were cut down by the relaxed strokes of Killingsworth’s sword, Lizzy and the marines hurried to throw the bodies overboard, but the gap was being quickly closed by the brute strength of the Black Dog himself.

As soon as the ironclad had been pulled close enough, skeletons started to swarm over the side and drop down onto the deck, where the crew waited with clubs and swords at the ready. Matey watched the ensuing melee with a sharp eye, shouting the occasional warning to a sailor that was about to be ambushed by a new arrival. His other eye stayed unwaveringly on Marley, who was presently tying the anchor chain around his own ship’s mast.

Undead and sailors swirled across the deck in mortal combat. The Marines held the stairs to the quarterdeck, keeping the helmsman free from harm while he tried to keep the ship from being damaged. The wizards normally powering the ship's magic circles had joined the fight with relish, blasting ghouls and skeletons to ash. Matey could see the enemy captain retrieving his axes and preparing to board so he shouted a warning to Killingsworth, who peeled off from the melee and prepared to face his foe.

Chapter 6
In which Mark and Matey meet their match.

The heavy thud reverberated through the wooden structure of the ship as ‘Black Dog’ Marley landed on the deck and straightened up to his impressive height. He turned towards Killingsworth, ignoring the melee around him. “We meet again, Dyingsworth!” His voice rasped like claws on a gravestone.

“You never were one for witty remarks, Marley” replied Killingsworth while casting a haste spell on himself, Lizzy and some nearby crew.

Marley started advancing across the deck, swatting away sailors and undead alike to clear his path. "Always with the magic, Killingswimp. About time you faced someone in a fair fight!" To emphasize "fair", he nudged the golden necklace with one of his axes.

Matey shrugged down his goggles again to take a look at what was going on, and saw that, while Killingsworth was a glowing swirl of colours, Marley had brought that sinister black sphere of energy across with him. Still unsure what the color signified, he nevertheless shouted down to Killingsworth: "Look out Captain, there's some kind of magical aura around him!"

The Captain of the Gutpunch nodded grimly and Matey could see caution tempering his stance. Killingsworth held out his hand towards the oncoming titan and muttered a spell. Triple beams of fire flashed from the open palm in the direction of Marley but failed to land, all three rays vanishing before they could hit him.

"Your spells won't work on me, Killingswhelp! See, Orcus prepares those he chooses for the glory they deserve." Marley was close to him now, nearly at striking range with those twin axes.

"The only thing you deserve is another watery grave, Marley!" He raised his sword and lunged at the orcusite. Matey could see something go wrong midswing, as the Captain stumbled into the black aura, nearly dropping his sword. He winced, grabbing his head with his free hand and retreating to the side.

Marley turned again to face him and swung his axes in blurringly fast arcs towards Killingsworth's chest. One glanced off the duller-than-usual mithril breastplate but the other sliced into his hip and drew blood. Killingsworth gritted his teeth and steadied himself, returning to a clean fencing stance.

"An Antimagic Field, Marley? That's the best your god can do? Let me tell you about my god, he who favors the lucky with luck and the skillful with skill."

In one smooth motion, Killingsworth drew and threw a dagger from his belt while crouching low and launching himself under the arc of the incoming axes. The dagger glinted in the firelight, his unmeasured throw carrying a prayer to Rhombodazzle for a little luck in exchange for the chaos such luck could bring.

Matey watched the hilt of the dagger sprout from Marley's left eye socket just as Killingsworth's sword sliced open the monster’s right leg, revealing rotten flesh and a putrid, yellowing bone. He launched himself from his vantage point, looking to capitalize on the sudden change in pace, and dived towards the foul monster below. First Mate Lizzy had the same idea, ducking around Marley into his newly-blinded side and preparing to strike.

Marley, who had scarcely noticed the attacks, quickly swung his axes around, bringing one up pointing at Lizzy and turning the other flat to swat Matey out of the sky. "My eyes see more than you think, mortals! You cannot hide from me while you live!"

Only the sudden change in balance from entering the antimagic field saved Matey from being collected by the heavy swing of the flat axehead. The loss of momentum, however, made him miss his target and fly past Marley's head.

Matey recovered before he hit the deck and climbed back into the air above the melee, while Lizzy kept her distance and Killingsworth turned and grinned.

"It's going to take more than that to best us, Marley. Have you noticed your crew are having difficulty standing? Feeling any pain in your feet, perhaps?"

Marley stopped to look around at the melee, noticing his crew for the first time. They did indeed look like they were having problems, hopping as if standing on hot coals and being cut down with ease by even the most junior of the crew. "What have you done? Killingswuss? Some kind of magic trick?"

"Oh nothing so fancy. Just, the water we swab the deck with is a little...holy." He emphasized the last word, gesturing at the crewmen behind him that had just emerged from below deck.

On his signal, Bennie and Geoff started smashing the barrels they had fetched from the galley. Water gushed out and flooded the decks, flowing down to the melee. The impact was immediate: ghouls shrieked horribly and skeletons collapsed and shattered on contact. Marley himself suffered the worst of it, but stood his ground implacably as the water parted around him. The sizzle of burning, decomposing flesh filled the air and Matey couldn't help the queer growl of his stomach reminding him of the time since he last ate.

"You think that's enough to defeat me? You're so wrong!" Screamed Marley.

Matey saw a marine step up behind the monster and aim a dragon pistol at his back. He curved around and dropped into another dive, timing his holy water drop to the marine's attack. Killingsworth's eyes flicked up to watch and he too readied for another strike.

Unexpectedly, Marley spun on the spot, grinding his own boiling feet into the deck, and threw his left axe at the Marine. It flew true and lodged itself in his stomach. Marley displayed speed that belied his size and took a giant step forward, pulling the axe back out of the stricken marine before he even had a chance to fall. The other axe swung back up towards Matey, who was forced to abandon his dive again.

Lieutenant Johnson was on the other side of the boat fending off a particularly vicious ghoul when he saw his man go down. Dispatching his foe with renewed fervor, he shouted a command to his remaining squad and they started to clear a small area for him to get to work. He loosened some ropes and set to with a spanner, removing one of the bolts from the ballista mount and swivelling it to face the masts. The marines pushed forward and one of them made a grab for the waterproof storage crate, snatching one of the long, thin packages and tossing it to Johnson, who racked it and shouted for help aiming the huge siege weapon.

Killingsworth was still dancing away from Marley’s twin axes, wracking his brain for a spell that might penetrate an antimagic field when a shout came from the other side of the ship and he dropped instinctively. Before he had even realised what was happening, he was laying on the deck watching as a familiar-looking bolt sprung from the mighty ballista, lodged itself into the chest of Black Dog Marley and propelled him over the side of the ship, over the deck of the ironclad and into the darkness beyond. Just before Killingsworth expected to hear a distant splash, there was a tremendous flash as the entire payload of the Mark IV Partystarter Bolt detonated at once. The fireball bathed the decks of the intertwined ships in a fierce orange light before the shockwave threw the undead and crew to their knees.

The Captain and his crew were the first to recover. Taking advantage of the suddenly lethargy that had stricken the undead with the death of their leader, they cleared off the deck and secured the ship. Once the wizards had severed the anchor chain of the ironclad, it drifted off into the darkness away from the land, a silent shadow on the now-still seas.

To Be Continued...

We can be heroes

"Have you ever wanted to hear a chorus of angels? Have you ever wondered if music alone can bring you to climax? Have you ever dared to dream that the most magical voice of this age would come and perform for you? All these questions and more will be answered in the town square, tomorrow night at dusk!"

Dardiana is tall and lithe with skin as golden as the sands of her homeland. Her fair hair cascades down her back, and her outfit is bright and ornate.
She describes herself as a woman of many talents (she isn't) who has travelled widely (she hasn't) and that the experience has made her worldly (definitely not). What she is though, is a woman with a gifted voice. She is a strong singer, poet and public speaker, and if she had the ability to work her talents at all she would likely have a plum job in a noble house as a prized entertainer. Instead, she wanders from town to town, barely scraping together a living

Her strategy was one of her own devising, and while sound, has a huge amount of room for improvement. For you see, her ability to hawk her own musical talents outweighs her actual talent at singing. She will spend a week talking herself up, whipping the townsfolk into a frenzy of anticipation before the actual show itself. While she is definitely a gifted singer, she doesn't live up to expectations.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem, as the smart Bard would charge at the door. Dardiana however, takes donations after the show and often barely makes enough to cover food and board.

Dardiana entered Morts employ when Mort travelled through her town on his way up to the Great Deserts. He heard her hawking, and decided he needed someone like her to hawk for him. She thought the offer of a secure job with a secure wage coupled with a secure way to actually travel to be an excellent prospect, since she might even manage to still sell her songs on the side as she goes.

The conversation went something like this

"So let me get this straight. You want me to follow you? And write and sing songs about you as you travel? And you'll pay me a gold piece a day to do this?"

Mort nods gravely

"So when do we start, Ser Grey?"

------------------------------

Dardiana finds herself at the head of the Greyton Rabble. The sky wasn't green any more, but unfortunately that wasn't an improvement. The rabble were shifting nervously, one eye on the Angel, the other on the "safety" of the nearby castle wall.

Dardiana tilts back her head and opens her mouth, her song cutting through the low murmuring

"We can be heroes, just for one day!"

Slaves are only slaves if they don't get paid. Right?

It was several weeks before the defence of Greyton. The party was exploring the Bloodways, and Mort was just returning from his journey out to the Deserts to visit an actual Hellknight Citadel.

"Taaaaaaaaabithatabithatabithatabithatabitha I have some soldiers for youuuuu!"

Tabitha sighed before turning around and looking at the dusty Mortimer "Welcome home. I trust the Deserts treated you well?"

Mort was still bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement "Yesssss they gave me stuff and dudes and things and soldiers woooooo"

"People don't give things for free Mort, what did it cost you?"

"I dunno, they just said they liked what I was doing and wanted to help"

"We'll have to talk more about that later. Is that them? Let me take a look" Tabs said, peering over Morts shoulder

"Yessssssssssssss! Gogogogo!"

Tabitha and Mortimer walked up to the double ranks of soldiers. There were 24 in total, all dressed in matching scalemail, with sword and shield near to hand. They wore plain grey tabards, but no other identifying mark, except for a sword shaped scar burned into thier arm

Tabitha looked them over for a few moments, before taking Mort aside. "These are slave soldiers, aren't they Mort?"

"No? Yes? Maybe? How do I tell?"

Tabitha sighed, dragging a hand across her face "They fly no colours and they have a brand on their bicep. This means they're slaves. We've talked about slaves before Mort, do you remember?"

"I think so. You said that people owning people isn't allowed in the Valley, and I wasn't allowed any. You also said that Shades would get angry and Aggy might turn me into a toad, because slaves are against the law"

"Yea. Something like that Mort. These are slaves, and you aren't allowed them"

Mort just crossed his arms and pouted "So make them not slaves"

"Yea, that thought did cross my mind. Lets see how this goes"

Tabitha moved up to stand in front of the troop of slaves, commanding their attention with her prescence. Her tone was authoritative, just like what they might be used to.

"Soldiers of the Deserts. Welcome to the Valley. I am The Mistress of Blades, Tabitha Wolfsbane. This is my town, and you are now my soldiers.
Things do not work here like you might be used to. Slavery is illegal, so you are no longer slaves. From now on, you are freemen. As long as you continue to work for me as soldiers, you will be paid a salary. I will provide you with food, with equipment and I will give you a roof over your head. Most importantly however, I will give your life purpose and direction. You will be part of something larger than yourselves. At the end of every day, you will go to bed safe in the knowledge that you have contributed to the betterment of our community.
If you do not wish this, you will be dismissed and banished from this town. You will spend your time wandering the wilderness, eking out a living eating berries and digging for worms. You will die alone and cold, and your remains will be feasted on by wolves.
If you enjoy the sound of dying in such a pathetic way, far from home, leave now. If not, take a step forward and vow to serve Greyton to the best of your ability"

------------------------

Later in the evening, Mort stopped by Tabithas residence.

"Tabithaaaaa. So umm, I forgot. They gave me some scholar dudes too, and they have some scars. I promise they're not slaves! Well I promise that it might be possible they aren't slaves"

"By Balthazars left testicle, Mort, get your shit together."

Smart

"Luther Stoneheart!  It is dishonourable for me to have to face such a failed general on the field of battle!  I am Agamemnon!  I am better than this!"  Agamemnon stepped up beside Mortimer, banging his sword on his shield.
The grave knight general turned slowly to face the cleric.  His eyes were at once empty and focused, his posture at once slack and powerful, as he focused his attention on his taunter.
Mortimer grunted and raised an eyebrow, then shook his head.  "And you smell!" he bellowed.  "You suck!"
Luther moved with incredible speed.  Agamemnon readied his shield.  "Darach," he whispered, "if you can bring yourself to do a favour for an orc, grant this one thing: please, please do not let Mort drop his scythe."
The next thing he knew Luther was driving with great force into his shield.  He saw Mortimer take a step and bring up his scythe to strike.  "Over to you, brother," he grunted and then it was blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're walking into a trap!"
"No.  We running into a trap."
Agamemnon swore in Elvish.  He knew Toldezkh hated when he did that, but he didn't care.  The orc chieftain was sitting on his stone throne, pillaged from a mostly-abandoned dwarven hold years ago, before Agamemnon had arrived in Red Hand territory fleeing the home in which he no longer belonged.
Toldezhk grunted.  "Your mother.  Fuck.  Ugly boar."  Toldezhk had made an effort to learn a few words in Elvish, since his advisor spoke the language.  Only those words, though, and he only used them when Agamemnon dropped back into that hated language in his presence.
Agamemnon glared at his chieftain, who held up a hand, extending two fingers.  "Twice."
Toldezhk had learned a new word.  Agamemnon tried not to grin.  He didn't apologise - orcs don't apologise - but he nodded in acknowledgement.
He tried again.  "The guard are waiting at the palisade for a reason.  They know the Red Hand will come at it straight, and they will be able to pick you off with arrows, reducing your strength before you reach them."
"I know."
"If you come around from the sides -" he pointed to the diagram he had illustrated on a scroll, "you will have some cover from these trees here, and here, and will reduce the open ground by half."
"Grazh, I know."
"You will be much stronger.  They won't expect it."
Toldezhk rubbed his scarred forehead tiredly.  "You explain this many times. You think I not understand you?"
"If you understand me why in the hells are you still charging directly into their trap?"
Toldezhk stood up.  He was impressive: seven foot tall, powerfully built, with black iron pauldrons fastening a blood red cape to his heavily muscled shoulders.  He sighed and adjusted his posture from one of strength to one of readiness.
"Okay.  You attack me."
Agamemnon looked at him.  "Uh ... no?"
"Why not?"
"You're my chieftain."
Toldezhk squinted at him.  "Maybe that stop you, but not only reason.  Why else?"
"You would literally murder me."
"This also true.  You pathetic and small.  You speak elf.  But say you have to attack.  How you do it?"
"I ..." Agamemnon thought about it.  "I would come at you from behind."
"You think that make difference?"
"Realistically, no.  You still know I'm coming, you're still far stronger than I am.  But the guard, it's completely different.  They -"
Toldezhk held up a hand to silence him.  "Don't think so much.  Listen.  I teach you this time so you understand.  Learn, yes?"
Agamemnon nodded.  "Okay.  If I had to fight you right now, I would surrender."
"Orcs don't surrender."
"I know.  But you don't think of me as an arc."
"No.  This good strategy.  Then?"
"Then, when you think I am no longer a threat, I wait for a moment to jump you and slit your throat."
"This not how orc fight."
"I know, but, as we have already established, I am barely an orc.  I would have the element of surprise."
"Good.  You win.  You kill Toldezhk.  Hundreds cry in pain as greatest orc chieftain who ever lived lie dead at your feet.  You chieftain now, by our custom.  Congratulations.  How long you live you think?"
"About an hour before Jizrak finds out what has happened and challenges me for leadership."
"Okay.  But you kill Jizrak, yes?"
"No, probably not."
"You insult me Grazh.  You defeat great Toldezhk, but you think Jizrak best you?  You think Jizrak better than Toldezhk?"
Agamemnon held up his hands placatingly.  "No no, not at all.  But I can't surrender to Jizrak.  I could catch you off guard because you think - you know - I am weaker than you.  But if I defeat you, Jizrak will be cautious.  He won't trust me.  He will not underestimate me.  I won't be able to trick him."
Toldezhk nodded.  "You learn."
Agamemnon shook his head.  "I don't understand what this has to do with raiding an army supply dump."
Toldezhk sat down again, his enormous club fists resting on his knees.  He gestured for Agamemnon to sit; the half-orc perched on the log beside the chieftain's throne, where he sat during tribal meets and analysed the men who came to speak with his chieftain.
"I smartest orc here, yes?"
Agamemnon paused, then nodded.  "Assuming I'm not counted as an orc then -"
"You not.  I smartest orc here.  You -" he jabbed a broad finger into Agamemnon's arm, causing his improvised stool to wobble, "you smarter than me, yes?"
Agamemnon nodded.
"But me much stronger than you.  If I fight you, use my strength.  If you fight me, you use your strength, up here."  Toldezhk pointed to his head.   "Toldezhk not smart as elf, but clever, yes?  I old - more than thirty.  I see much battle, many fights, see off many challengers.  I learn to think ahead - not just to fight, not just to spoils, but to future.  What you think happen if we be clever tomorrow?"
"More of the Red Hand will survive."
"Yes.  Your plan, more of Red Hand survive.  I agree.  May even change outcome of battle."
"Then why -"
"Grazh, you listen.  All become clear.  Next time Red Hand fight, humans expect Red Hand be canny.  We fight clever.  They take us more serious threat.  They have more men, they be more cautious.  So we have to be more clever.  Then third fight.  They now see us as smart.  They be very clever to fight us, we smart enemy, they need to be clever.  So we have to keep being more clever.
"Tell me, Grazh.  Orc can only be so clever.  Human, only be so clever.  There limits to clever.  Who you think more clever?  Who you think reach limit first?  Orc or human?  You tell me, Grazh."
Agamemnon thought about it.  "Humans, on average, are not that much more intelligent than orcs - they think they are, but they're not.  But their leaders can be very intelligent."
Toldezhk nodded.  "And human army follow leader's orders in battle.  Orc army?  We force of nature!  We smash, we destroy, we rage, we over-run!  We terrifying!  But not so good at following battle plan.  Not our way.  Not our strength."
Agamemnon nodded.  "So what you're saying is that although you could apply my tactics to this fight, and lose less men tomorrow, ultimately it would be bad for the Red Hand?"
Toldezhk clapped him on the shoulder.  "Exactly.  World in delicate balance.  Balance right now favour Red Hand - we eat well, we have many men, we have many babies, we stay in one place, not have to wander.  We have good life.  When we charge palisade some die.  This okay.  Those that are strong - and lucky - live.  Maybe the great Toldezhk not live.  This okay.  Toldezhk leave Red Hand in good shape.  Strong home, strong men - good advisor, too, Grazh.  But there reason advisor not chieftain.  You have many ideas, many good ideas, some not so good, but all worthy, all listened to.  But chieftain have to take those ideas and plan for future of whole tribe.  The smartest man never lead Red Hand.  That be disaster in the future.  The smartest man valuable, very valuable, help tribe greatly, but not lead.  Leader does not need to be smart.  Leader need to be orc.
"Understand now?"
Agamemnon nodded.  "Thank you, Toldezhk.  I've learned something from you.  Again."  He looked up at the great chieftain of the Red Hand.  "You are smarter than you think."
"Don't make me kill you, elf."

~~~~~~~~~~

Agamemnon opened his eyes.  Shades was leaning over him, the fragments of a disintegrated scroll powdering into the wind.  He blinked and sat up.  Mortimer clapped him on the back.  "That wasn't very smart," he said.  He sounded pleased.
Agamemnon winced as he got to his feet.  He turned to look at Mort.  It was impossible to tell that the orc was close to death himself mere moments ago.
"I couldn't afford to be smart.  I was planning for the future."
Mortimer looked quizzically at him, then clapped him on the back again and walked off to where Tabitha was beckoning him.

The defence of Greyton

Ralph was a mason. He was getting on in years, and had unfortunately outlived both his daughter and wife. Bored, his gaze wandered around a bit. Three paces to his right was a brick the size of a small chest. He recognised that brick, he had carved it himself last week. And the one over there too, he though to himself. And perhaps that one, but it was hard to be sure from here. He didn't want to go check though, because he understood that the idea of standing in formation was so that the lines were straight and that everyone was facing the same way, so as not to get in each others way.

He could see Tabitha off a ways, talking to a couple of Orcs. He figured the larger one must be the Warden - the armour was fairly distinctive and he had seen the holy symbol around Greyton a fair bit. He didn't know who the taller one was though, but since Tabitha wasn't shouting at him, he must be important. Soon enough, the Warden got up on his magic horse and took up position in front of the gatehouse, the taller Orc moving up beside him.

He watched as Tabitha marched over to a wild looking Island woman, dressed impressively in a breastplate and all sorts of other trinkets, not to mention the huge sword on her back. He couldn't quite hear from here, but the conversation appeared short and sharp, and ended with the wild woman waving both her middle fingers in Tabitha’s face before stalking off. Ralph flinched, anticipating Tabitha’s outburst, but she just took a deep breath to compose herself and looked around the clearing.

Ralph was getting the impression that most of these people must be mercenaries Tabitha had found to fight for them. They didn't seem to like taking orders though. But its better they fight and die than him, he thought. He watched as Tabitha turned and faced the massive cloudy being, floating gently just outside the palisade. Ralph thought he could see something that resembled a face, but he was afraid to look too closely in case the cloudy condition was contagious. Tabitha just seemed to watch the cloud man for a few long moments, before shrugging and looking around her again. Her gaze finally rested on a Tengu on the other side of the gap from him.

The Tengu looked fairly well decked out, with the tabbard that looked familiar, but he couldn't place, as well as armour of rare metal and fancy looking weapons. Ralph sighed sadly - the Tengu must have jumped someone really important to end up dressed like that, may Telephos rest that poor mans soul. Tabitha seemed to have a fairly civil conversation with the Tengu though, pointing here and there and a few other gestures he couldn't decipher. He figured Tabitha must have some sort of sneaky plan in mind, to need one of Them.

With a nod, Tabitha made her way back across the courtyard, speaking a few words with the Warden, before coming to stand next to Ralph in the front line of the Greyton Rabble

The Warden stood up in his stirrups briefly, his voice ringing out over the silence of the courtyard

"Tonight, Orcus will learn what Greytonians are made of. We will lure them through the gap in the palisade, and we will crush them!"

Ralph waited a few moments in anticipation, before he realised that was the end of the speech.

The minutes dragged on, as they stood there waiting. Ralph thought they looked dreadfully under prepared. Most of the people here hadn't ever raised a weapon in anger before, himself included. The professional warriors were over the other side of the Gap, standing in their small formations, barely able to cover the space between the castle wall and palisade

Suddenly the Warden let out a roar, giving Ralph a fright, before leaping forward through the Gap on his horse and out of sight. The taller Orc began jogging, trying to keep up. Tabitha sighed softly beside him, muttering something vulgar about sticking to plans.

Ralph couldn't really see much from where he was - the palisade blocked most of his view, but the sound was somewhat eerie. It was nothing like what he expected. He could hear the occasional voice shouting out, things about coordinating spells and avoiding arrows, but aside from that it was fairly quiet. Every so often there was the clatter of arrows striking metal and mud, the soft whoosh of flame that lit up the underside of the clouds but none of the screams and shouts he was expecting from warfare.

Then the bone rain started. It started up suddenly, and ramped up to full effect in a matter of seconds. It was an almost deafening sound, thousands of bones rattling against thousands of bones, with bits of metal in there adding to the noise. Before long, he could hear the thumps of bones striking the palisade beside him, and he watched in horror as a skull rolled through the Gap and came to a rest not a dozen paces from him, the jaw bone still clacking.

Ralph was so focused on the skull that he almost didn't notice as zombies came pouring out around the side of the Palisade. They were ugly brutes, all partially rotten, wearing nothing but rags and evil intentions. He barely had time to raise his hammer before they were upon him. He stomped back and forth, trying hard, but not managing to land a solid blow. The stench of burned flesh reached his nose, and he could see the fire dogs going to work on the zombies flank. It was like what he expected the Abyss to look like - men on fire, still "alive", yet not a sound coming from their mouths.

Suddenly, he was forced to turn away and shield his eyes with his forearm as Tabitha outstretched her hand. Blinding white light shone forth, melting the flesh and bones of the zombies directly in front of her. The horde took a step back in confusion, before driving forward with renewed vigour. Ralph was still partially dazed by the light when a zombie bite found his neck, and he went down with a barely a whimper


-------------------------------------------------------

Mortimer sat astride Crusher, tall and proud. His back was straight and his armour was impeccably polished, the way only specially enhanced armour can be. Crushers armour in contrast was covered in acid pock marks, a few snagged arrows and the occasional zombie finger jammed behind the odd strap or plate.

Mortimers face had lost its usual cheeky grin - instead his brow was furrowed with worry, and his hands gripped the reins perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary. He normally delegated leadership responsibility to Tabitha, but tonight he needed to step up to the plate and the stress was showing.

They were at the entrance of the quarry looking down on the roughly 3200 souls that were his responsibility. The awaiting masses were mostly silent aside from the odd crying child and baying animal. Mort stood there waiting for the crowd to slowly noticed his presence and turn their attention to him. The acoustics of the quarry aided him as he raised his voice, which sounded sombre and much more controlled and considered than usual

"People of Greyton, lend me your ears. For those of you who have yet to meet me, I am Warden Grey. I wished to bring you this news personally. As you could probably hear, we have just endured our first attack. An army of over 500 undead attempted to swarm us, lead by a Stoneheart general from a previous age, and they barely managed to even reach our walls before they were utterly destroyed. In comparison, we lost only four of ours. Be proud - tonight Orcus learned that Greytonians are carved from the same stone we work. He now knows our battle lines are as straight as our walls, our charges are as ordered as our roads, and our arms never tire.

However, Orcus has now taken our measure. He understands that we are not to be trifled with, and he will turn the full force of his armies upon us. Make no mistake - Orcuses resources are deep, and before dawn next breaks we will have been sorely tested."

Mort sighs and rubs his eyes before continuing.

"We anticipate a few hours respite before the next wave reaches us. Take this time to sleep, pray and appreciate the company of your loved ones. As always, there is a place at my side for anyone who wishes to help me defend what our hands have built."

He paused a moment, trying to gauge the response, before offering "May you only have to cut once" as a parting blessing

Ser Crusher

The Great Downwards Engineering Company was in the second temple. Gudmunds blood was still congealing. Tabitha was slowly flexing, trying to get the last of the stony stiffness from her muscles, when she spotted Mort kneeling off to one side. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he seemed to be softly talking to himself.

"Mort. MORT! What are you doing?"

Mort let out an exasperated sigh, and replied without moving. "I'm praying, what does it look like?

Tabitha stood motionless, thinking hard for a few moments before replying. "...prayer is unusual for you Mort. You usually just create a bloody mess out of a heathen then fist pump the sky, dedicating it to Balthazar as an after thought and... sort of leave it at that."

Mort clearly disliked having to explain something so fundamental. "Yeah, I was making faith coins. And now is a good time to spend them. Duh."

"Mort, that isn't how religion works..."

Mort finally shifted his pose, turning to face her. "Have you met our God? No? Well I have, so close your visor and go glare at Kruin or something. Geeze, respect my privacy"

"Ugh, the mouth on you sometimes." she muttered, before rejoining the group

------------------------

"Dear Balthazar. This is Mort. Hi. How are you? That's good, I'm good too.

So, I don't know if you can see, but I hit more heathens for you. Shades killed the really bad heathen, but I kicked him a few times just so Orcus knew I meant business.

So, uhhh, the dudes said something about Orcus sending an army to go kill our people. I think he mostly wants to kill Shades' people, Shades being the Chosen One and everything, but Greyton is in the way and Tabitha thought it was a good idea to leave my horse in charge. YES TABITHA I'M TELLING ON YOU! Shoo, go away, I'm still praying!

Crusher is a horse and hes dumb and he wants to take over the world or something, but he's in charge so I would like to spend some faith coins and buy him some... somethings. I don't know what I can buy with faith coins. TABITHA, WHAT CAN I BUY WITH FAITH COINS? Okay, Tabitha is ignoring me. Can you like... make him shoot fireballs out of his eyes or something? Or grow lots of arms that hold axes? I think that would be useful. And while you're there, please make him a nice shade of blue so he matches my tabard when I ride him.

Okay I think Aggy wants to talk to me now so I had better go. I hope I can come visit you again soon, you have nice stuff to look at.

Lots of love, Mort."

------------------------

Crusher had a big ego. No, that doesn't do it justice. Crusher had a massive ego. He was big and strong, super intelligent and a hit with the ladies. If he insulted you, you were to consider it a compliment, because at least you were worth that much of his time. With Mort and Tabitha out of town, he was in charge. The idea that there might be someone better suited didn't even occur to him. This was his god-given place.

However, while he would never admit it, his stomach did lurch ever so slightly at the news of the Unrighteous March. He might be 24 carat Awesome, but the idea of somehow using the ugly hairless mice who were looking up at him expectantly to defend Greyton didn't sit well with him. He studied them as they took the news of the impending doom and carefully masked his distain. Some of them were crying, some were grim and determined, others still were angry. They should be standing in rank and file, steel as far as the eye could see, ready to kill and trample thier enemies, not this huddled mass of soft weeping flesh. This was beneath him

Crusher snorted loudly and shook his head. He should be chasing chattle like this through burning fields and ruined towns, not plotting to somehow save them. He could remember some of his time spent raiding under Daarog - the smells of blood and fire, screams and roars, the bitter sweet taste of human flesh. That was how battles were supposed to be. Except this time, he's stuck on the side of the chattle.

"You. Horse. Why the long face? Hahahahaha, I kill me sometimes"

Crusher looked sharply around, looking for the source of the disturbance. Sitting on his haunches a few feet off was a Kyton - a leathery Devil with a huge grin, engulfed almost entirely in spiked chains. Rather than sitting dormantly though, the chains slowly shifted, writhed and lifted, almost like they were a nest of snakes. Held protectively in one hand was a longsword, clearly a prized possession, and one of the few other things currently on his person.

He swiftly stood and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, enjoying the rattle of the metal links and the disquieting effect it had on Crusher. Noone else seemed to be able to hear it.

"I am Xelo'tah of Claire, here on behalf of The Patron, although I believe 'Balthazar' is the common name used here. Mortimer has uh... struck an odd bargain of sorts, and I am here to deliver our part"

Crusher just blankly looked at Xelo'tah for a few long moments, clearly a bit overwhelmed. "...who the fuck...?"

Xelo'tahs grin widened "My sincerest apologies, I mistook you for a creature of indelible charm and indescribable wit. Perhaps you can point me towards a horse with such an affliction"

"Look elsewhere and I'll kick your head in" Crusher said with a twang of a neigh "What do you want with me?"

"Let me cut to the chase. I, The One Xelo'tah of Claire, on behalf of The Patron, hereby confer upon you the vocation of Hellknight and all the privileges that role brings. Congratulations. You are assigned to the Order of the Scythe. Your rank and role shall be decided by the Lawbringer Grey upon his return. On the Lawbringers behalf, I wish to convey the following quest - " Xelo'tah coughed and dropped his voice an octave "'Lose Greyton and I'll make a new pair of boots out of your hide. And they won't be nice boots either'"

Crusher absorbed this tepidly. "This was not how I expected my rise to power to occur. Where are the fanfares, the apples, the screaming mares? The crowds of quaking slaves?"

Xelo'tahs grin faded slowly "Pomp and ceremony are nice and all, but sometimes you just need to find a hammer and hit a nail. Congratulations on your promotion, Sir Hammer, may you hit this nail swiftly and with conviction"

With that tibbit, he disappeared as quickly as he had come.

"...one fucking step and I will end you. I WILL FUCKING END YOU" Jaq screamed

Crusher watched the ragged forces of Greyton form up. "Every God has a humble beginning I suppose" he muttered to himself

Greyton

Tabitha sat atop the recently completed castle gatehouse and watched the activity unfolding in front of her. From her vantage point, she could see just over 2000 people scurrying around Greyton like ants - hauling, digging and building. The construction of Greyton was a task she had delegated to subordinates. She was nominally in charge and had provided some input, but ultimately her small team of city planners were responsible for this project. Since she had allocated all of the Castle labour to the job, she had about a month of free time on her hands. It was a rare treat, so she was quite happy to just sit back and keep half an eye on things.

The castle itself was set a hundred feet back east of the crossroads. It was still mostly mud, but was slowly taking shape. The sight dominating the scene is the massive hole in the center. The excavated dirt was being used to form the core of both the inner and outer walls, with the stone shells of the wall slowly being constructed around them. The hole itself was being shored up with masonry, forming the bottom two levels of the Castle.

East of the castle a large area was being cleared and cobblestoned. The existing temporary and semi-permanent housing was being reconstructed and relocated out of the area, ready for the new commercial district. String and stakes delineate the various plots in the areas surrounding the market square, with some small privately hired teams already starting to lay foundations and put up storefronts. 

She lifted her gaze slightly further to the north and she could see even more roads being cut. These were spaced further apart and were generally wider, more suited to a sprawling warehouse district. The area to become the warehouse district was unoccupied, so teams were going through removing the last of the tree stumps and other major obstacles before construction could begin.

Finally, she turned her gaze on the residential district running along the southern edge of the town. Large dormitories were being constructed in the eastern half in order to house all of the construction workers, while the western half was freely available for other residents to build their homes.

Tabitha shaded her eyes and squinted against the sun. She thought she can just make out the rivers edge from where she sat. It was mostly empty, but she knew Mirrax's engineering team was busy surveying the shore and drawing up plans for the docks.

The overall impression of the town however is not quite what you'd expect. Knowing Tabitha, you would expect to see a town laid out in a grid, where wide long straight roads would be the best and most obvious solution. Instead you have wide roads that suddenly narrow and wind through a sharp set of S bends, almost like a God has reached down, stuck his fingers in the earth in the middle of the town and has done a series of twists. Closer examination also shows all of the newly constructed buildings have flat top roofs edged with a low wall. Further more, occasionally rectangle pits can be spotted dug into roadways. 

The purpose quickly becomes apparent - there are no long roads cavalry can easily charge down, every roof serves as an archers post, deadfalls and blockades can be organised quickly and deployed easily, and all roads lead to the Castle with the stained glass Holy Symbol of the cathedral, visible through the invisible sections of the wall, acting as a rallying beacon. Greyton might be a merchant town, but it is also a military town run by Hellknights.

Tabitha sighed and stood up as she saw Mortimer approaching.

"Taaaaaabitha! Shades will be here soon, I'm off to get more doors and loot and stuff"

"Hold up a sec Mort, I'll come with."

"We shouldn't be long, its only a temple... Wait, what?" Mort did a double take

"You heard me"

Snookums and the Dominion Army 2

Snookums was seated at the table in his field command tent when Captain Irrie was announced by the guard and ushered in.

Not one to be towered over, Snookums waved her to sit on a cushion which usually put people on the same elevation as him. Unfortunately the elvish arcanist still had a good half a foot on him once she had sat down.

The General harrumphed and rose to his feet, not really changing the situation but at least feeling better about it.

“So, Captain Irrie. Ah’ve been watching you and yer unit trainin’ and I must say Ah’m impressed. Ah think the Lights have become a critical unit in tha Army, do ye agree?”

Irrie nodded, unsure what was even going on except that nice words were coming from a terminally grumpy dwarf.

“Good, good. So t’that end, ah’ve decided we need t’make a few changes. Tell me, who d’ye think would be yer best replacement, if something were t’happen t’ye?”

Irrie gulped and thought quickly, something she’d always been good at. “Uh, Makaquaran, uh, Sir.” Probably not as good at talking quickly, however.

“Maka… quaran... Maka…” Snookums mumbled to himself as he leafed through a stack of papers, “Ahah, the Dalish lass? Former bandit gang leader.. ah remember her, showed initiative in tha Forest War… ah, you actually wrote ‘er up for a commendation after tha Daemon War.. Ah should really make time t’read those things.”

Irrie winced briefly at that, but maintained her cool. Those weeks in the Jungle with Boko throwing mud at them while shouting “Fireball!” were still paying dividends. She noticed the General was still talking and tuned back in...

“Okay, So here’s how it is: Ah’ve got t’get some fresh perspective in mah command unit, and Ah think ye’ll do fine. Makaquaran will be taking over command of tha arcanists. D’ye think ye can manage t’teach her anything she needs t’know by this afternoon?”

Irrie nodded again, this time completely out of her element but batting back a tear of pride.

“Perfect. Dismissed, Captain. Talk t’th’ quartermaster on yer way out if yer needing any new gear.”

====================================================================

Tugging at a fraying thread on her “new” uniform, Irrie hurried to the parade grounds where the Army had been instructed to gather. She had spent the better part of the day talking to Maka and explaining why this promotion was a good thing for both of them. Maka was sure that she was going to forget everyone in the unit behind but eventually came around to the idea that the Lights of Zelkor needed representation in the Command Squad. She had also managed to confirm that Maka was paying enough attention during the drills and training to be able to lead the unit effectively. There would still be more to do to ensure the future success of their unit and Irrie was certain the General would want her to keep training with them.

Irrie reached the grounds just after the General and fell in step beside him, careful not to give any appearance of looming over him. Together they walked up to the small platform at the edge of the green where Makaquaran waited, nervousness writ large across her hardy features.

Captain Hammerbreaker, the cleric, her new colleague, banged his shield loudly and shouted the assembled troops to attention. He then stepped smartly to the rear of the platform with Irrie and Makaquaran and let Lord Shades take his place beside General Snookums.

Irrie didn’t exactly have the best view for the ensuing speech, but she could see her comrades and the glowing pride on her units’ faces was the new favourite moment of her life. She stared intently at her friends, her unit, her town, her home and did her best to fix the moment in her memory so she could savour it forever. The memory, crystallised and perfect, sat on a tiny shelf in her mind, next to two other small crystals: One; a white moment of childhood innocence playing in the snow with her mamma, and the other; a dense red ball of anger that she no longer needed to look at.

The General stopped speaking and applause broke out. Irrie smiled and waved before she realised that none of the troops were looking at her, rather Lord Shades was getting the attention and cheers.

As it turned out, the General had also announced that every soldier was getting a 5 gold bonus for the end of the year.