The Terror of the Seas

Let's settle this on the waves!

Take 'em unexpectedly from the stern

Attendees: DMHC, Jake Duke Punshon (Katt), Chris Lord Fowlie (Sven), Ryan Big Chief Hooyenga (Kanye the Giant), Joba the Marquis de Marcoux (Triggg), and John Tzar Lenz (your humble scribe) (Masahiro).
Location: Tzar’s Rearcastle

- If we’re being frank, we all just want to punch Arbuckle in the nose. And the idea to just barge into his basement and go down in a blaze of frickin’ glory does cross the table more than once until we get to the part where we imagine hitting one of those Silver Devils for a fist-pumping 6 damage only to have it hit back for 33. Anyone feel like rolling up new characters? Fine, we’ll use our heads …

- Let’s see what we can get out of that Imp; yeah, the one in the Manacular Co-op program. Masa and Kanye go in first to give him an easy option to spill the beans before we take it up a notch. He seems unmoved, leaving us with no choice – it’s time to bring in the Gimp!! The door squeaks open on hinges that could use a lube, silhouetting a form that has every scalp in the room quiverring . “Sweet Enkili in a 3-way!!” gasps Masa; “Alazay suppositories thru a blowgun!!” mums Kanye, hand involutarily rising to keep the last of his soul from being sucked out his wide-open mouth by the horror at the threshold. The Mighty Sven steps forward, each footfall a clanging chime of doom as the towheaded, walking neurosis draws ever nigh. “Well, punk… [sudden head twitch] … those are some nice … wings … you got there… would work well on the edges of a sanitary napkin…”

“Flee!” shouts the Imp, his words carrying the motivating prod of magic.

8 seconds later, Sven pops his head out from behind Katt’s armoured thigh, wondering how he can spin that hasty departure into something he intended. We not going to let him.

Okay, we just get down to questions and old-fashioned face-slapping interrogation and vaguely-worded promises of release in exchange for info; we learn some useful things. We find out that the Imps have been invisibly following us ever since the incident in the Merchant’s Guild, that there are a large number of these Imps, that they’re working for Arbuckle, and that the particular Silver Devil that handled the hit & stash operation of the Weolocs in our dingy was one named Tallos. Hmm. We decide we need our wizard to get learning a See Invisibility spell, which she does like a boss. Faerie Fire and Glitterdust also get successfully copied into her little book of spells; that gal’s on fire!

We find out from Lord Prydain’s clerics that the Weolocs cannot be resurrected because their souls are somehow bound. Dammit! We’re going to have to find another way to get money from these aristocrats. We feel the call of the brine and decide to get all piratey on Arbuckle’s ass. We attempt to quietly slip out of our harbour unnoticed around 9pm under the covering mistress of night but accidentally drop 13 frying pans onto a marching band dressed in full plate armour. A ghost from the times before the Titan war jolts upright at the racket, rubbing its ethereal eyes as it gazes out above the soil for the first time in over a century, “Hmm… looks like the Feena is leaving harbour.” So much for stealth.

We eventually park it about 10 klicks south of Fangsfall and wait for Arbuckle flies to wander into our web. We don’t have to wait long as what should appear heading toward FF but a 90-footer flying the R-Buckle. Unfortunately, there happens to be a 2-ship military escort leading our mark home, but we think we can work around that with a bit o’ Elemental Fury between the sheets. Trigg points her wand and utters, “Air Elemental! To the Main! Water Elemental! To the Sump!”

The merchant ship’s lookout in the crowsnest finally sees us and shouts, “Pi-”

Like a Saturn V rocket, the water elemental in the sump takes us from “making good way at 7 knots” to “making Get-the-fuck-out-of-the way!! at 37 knots,” bringing us very smartly to the stern of the merchant ship.


During our 18-second burn, we manage to fling Sven into the air, though he struggles to get his suit to handle the Gs of the sling plus the kidney-flattening acceleration of the Feena – he’s really cruising! He spirals and weaves his way to splat against the mainsail of the merchant ship like a gummy worm flung against a window before sliding down to the main deck. Kanye and Triggg take a step of faith off the crowsnest and float their way onto the enemy deck with much more aplomb, or with much more a-bomb, as Trigg drops a thunderstone on the forecastle to create more confusion and distraction below. The 3 diminuitive adventurers all make haste below deck, where Kanye gets his wee mitts on the boat’s ledgers, charts, and manifests. “Got it!!” he cries, and our retreat is in full order. By this time, Katt and Masa have gotten on deck Arbuckle’s vessel, and the guards are starting to get their shit together to try to deal with us. Someone lights one of the guards on fire, and we all make the easy-peasy leap over the rail back onto the Feena. Sploosh! Piper down! Turns out Katt belied her name and hooked a toe on the railing as she tried her hop, dropping herself into the drink. We throw down ropes while Triggg decides to keep the guards on the other ship distracted by tossing a Sturge bomb onto their deck – it’s nice to have those bloated bloodsuckers working for us for a change. Katt manages to dust herself with that dust of water walking and runs as fast as her legs will take her to catch up to our ship. Masa hauls her ass back aboard, we flip a U-ey, and hit the afterburners into the Southerly headwind, leaving a startled merchant ship and two military escorts standing there scratching their heads … “The fuck?”



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