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...