The Third Moon of Cré

Chapter Three
Gimme a hand, wouldya?!


We find our heroes, Grash and Jalana, cleaning their weapons of the blood of the cultists, the Servants of Slaanesh. They’re weary yet invigorated by the previous days events, they loot the bodies, and find a note advising them that the guard that they had ‘taken care of’ was a menial contact of the ‘Resplendent Lord’ in the city, and that this lord is also a servant of Slaanesh. Who this Slaanesh is they do not know, as all the contacts that could have told them something have since been forcefully removed from the world of the living.

They made their way back to the city, passing through the northern gates along with the small stream of visiting merchants, farmers bringing their wares to the markets and the common folk going about their mundane existence.

As they brought themselves back to The Skewered Goose, they sat themselves down at one of two tables by the unlit fireplace. As they stretched their muscles and recounted the day, they brought out the scrap of fabric they found on the cultists body. After reading the gibberish inscribed, which seemed to be written on some kind of cured hide, and printed in a dark red ink, they realised they had no idea what they were trying to read.

After some time, and a brandy or two, Grash asked Djymmi to have a look at the writing. After a few laughs and a frown, Djymmi advised that the man in question, the Resplendent Lord, was more than likely none other than the mayor of the town, H’amaas; a plump and overbearing Dragun-Borne that had been ruling since he came to power a few decades ago. He advised that the mayor frequented the temple of Tyr; God of Justice, in the temple district of Masalan. This was good news, as this was but a short walk for the two of them, and they could have a talk with this mayor and see why he was referenced by these troublesome cultists.

The two of them got their gear together, checked their weapons and, with a last gulp of brandy, set out into the street in search of the Temple of Tyr.

As they stood outside The Skewered Goose, and pondered just where the temple may be (there were dozens of them within eyesight), Grash saw a small child walking past. Grash pulled the child to him by the scruff off her neck, pulled out a gold coin and put it in the child’s face.

“Where” he asked quite firmly “Is the temple of Tyr?”

Jalana couldn’t tell if the child was more horrified by the sudden outburst of violence or the gleaming gold coin being offered to her. Obviously the child was not exactly well off, and by the looks of her tattered clothes and parcels she was carrying, she looked like some kind of courier.

“Sir…I…the temple…it’s with all the other ones of the ”/wikis/ag-tos-" class=“wiki-page-link”> Ag Tosú gods…just around the corner… over there" replied the shaking and terrified child whilst pointing to a section of the temple district that contained still a number of unrecognisable temples.

“Good girl” replied Grash, and with that pocketed the gold coin and shoved the child away. The girl fell and dropped the packages she was carrying, and after a brief moment to get herself together, stood up and ran away crying.

Jalana looked on indifferently as this transpired, knowing that interrupting Grash when he was in his ‘information gathering’ mood was not a good idea. They made their way in the direction of where the urchin had pointed and found a throng of people and a veritable smorgasbord of temples to choose from. As they all looked the same, they had no idea which was the temple of Tyr, or even what they’d do once they got there.

They wandered about and decided they’d enter one and ask the worshipers inside if they knew which was Tyr’s temple. They saw a relatively mundane temple that didn’t have too many people coming in and out, so they decided to start there. They weren’t stopped by anyone when entering and once past the threshold they found that they had entered a temple that had a very lax dress code. Almost all of the worshipers and priests were minimally clothed and did not seem to be in a hurry to do much of anything. There were more than the usual amount of braziers about the walls and a few hanging from the ceiling, almost all of them spewing more smoke than any temple Grash had been in before. As Jalana had never been to a temple before, she didn’t have anything to really compare it to, and explained her new-found building euphoria to the feeling of divine presence.

After a few conversations that didn’t really get them anywhere and a few offers of sweets and a sit on their comfy lounges, they decided that they weren’t really getting anywhere and left.

“Well, that was an experience that I won’t forget in a hurry!” exclaimed Jalana. “The stories are true, I could feel something in there, like my spirit was traveling through the planes of…”

“Quiet girl, you were drugged. Be still and take large breaths, you’ll be fine in a minute.” explained Grash. “We’re not going to find this place by going door to door, I’ll need a hand.”

As they cleared their heads a man that seemed down on his luck came up to them. Dressed in grey rags he beseeches them for a few coins. “Please, good lords, may I beg of you a moment of your time?”
Grash looked the man up and down and snorted, “Ask not for our hard earned coin, old man, and be happy that I don’t take your rags too. Now tell me, where is the temple of Tyr? And no funny business.” he asked, menacingly.

The old man did not seem intimidated by Grash’s rashly spoken words, instead he smiled “Of course, good sir, and madam, please forgive my intrusion.” He swept his arm up and with it the ragged cloak, blocking the sight of the eastern end of the temples from their eyes. As he lowered his arm, he pointed at a temple nestled in between another two, slightly back from the other temples. “That is the temple you seek, brave hero. It is there that you will be handed the knowledge that you seek.”

Grash looked at the man with a stony face, dismissed his theatrics as that of one who was addled in the brain, and turned to Jalana questioningly.

“Well” she said to him. “I suppose we have found our temple. Let us go and see if we can find out more about this pampered mayor, and maybe we can end this silly chase of the wildest of geese.”

Grash breathed quietly our of his nostrils, “Wild goose, indeed.” he muttered to himself as they both turned towards the temple of Tyr. When they arrived at the steps they noticed no guards or priests proselytizing at the entrance. They made their way inside and immediately realised that they were in a vastly larger temple than the previous one. The walls were set back much further than one would think from looking at the place from outside. The coals in the braziers were unlit and there was no light beyond first few meters into the temple. Smooth stone under their feet was the only thing that they knew as they moved further into the temple.

As they turned around to go back outside and check if this was in fact a temple, a man emerged from the darkness, as if he was liquid smoke, being poured from a rent in the air. “Hello, travellers. Far have you journeyed to be here. How is that we can help you?”

At his softly spoken words Jalana raised her hand behind her shoulder to put her hand on her spear, and when she saw no immediate threat lowered her hand. “We are looking for someone.” she said, hesitantly.

The man, wearing a robe and with both hands tucked into the opposite sleeve, looked them up and down. His head was shaved but for a tail of hair on the nape of his neck, tied into a braid. “Aren’t we all.” he replied, smiling.

There was silence between them.

“We are looking for a man known as the ‘Pampered Lord’, we have been lead to believe that he is the mayor of this town, and that he frequents this,” she looked around, seemingly unsure of herself “…temple.”

“I know of no such man, we do not use names here. Let me ask you, why do you accompany this creature?” the man asked, turning his gaze to look at Grash. “This one, born of the red Draguns, there is much uncertainty about him.”

The man began to walk, slowly circling them both keeping his hand folded in his robe in front of him, assessing them both. “Do you not wonder, will it cut your throat in the night? Or will it protect you to the end of your days? Will it wonder at it’s own potential? Do you wonder at yours?”

Grash clenched his fists, “It wonders at your lack of manners, and the softness of your belly, and how quickly my dagger could find a soft spot in the hollow of your throat.”

The man laughed and stopped circling them, apparently happy with his assessment. “You do not have the right to speak to us like this, Dragun-borne. You are the one that is getting…out of hand.”

Jalana took a step forward, “You have no idea who you’re speaking to, you will end your nonsense and if you have nothing to give us, we will take our leave” and to Grash she said “Come, we will take our leave.”

As she turned to leave the man whispered to her “We’re glad to see you go, scale-cock…”

Before Jalana could even question what that meant Grash launched forwards with a fist aimed directly at the man’s face, with his other hand going for one of his knives. Grash’s fist missed the man’s face by an inch, the man then wheeled about and launched a flurry of elbows and knees at Grash, who was no novice at tavern brawls and deftly avoided the bulk of them. In no more than the time that it takes to inhale and exhale, the man was on his back looking up at Grash standing over him with his dagger in hand.

The man raised his hands in defeat, and still smiling said “You are faster than you look, Grash” and looking at Jalana “I hope for your sake that he doesn’t decide to slit your throat in your sleep, as you will surely have no time for your last prayer.” He stood and wiped the dust from his robe.

Grash could see the man had learned his lesson, and as such lowered his hands. “Tell us, now. Where is the mayor, and why is he sought by the servants of Slaanesh.”

There was no surprise in the man’s eyes as he spoke, only a smile on his face.
“You will find what you seek in there.”, he pointed to a large hole but a few feet from them. Neither Jalana nor Grash noted it being there earlier.

As they looked at the hole, and back to the man, they realised he was gone.

“I understand now the frustration some feel when they deal with these simpering priests.” noted Jalana, as she moved towards the hole and peered down it.

“Hmm.” replied Grash, as he too moved to the hole to see what he could see.

They peered down and saw naught but blackness, there was no sound, no light and no smell to either of their noses. “This is strange” said Jalana “It would seem he wants us to trust him and jump down this hole. Well, if he thinks we are fools then let him continue thinking it. We’re wasting our time here, let us find another god-house to bother.”

As she turned to go she found Grash immediately behind her. “Sorry girl, we can’t go just yet.” and with a smile he pushed her backwards into the hole.

With a curse Jalana tumbled backwards and was swallowed by the darkness with Grash jumping in almost immediately after.

They tumbled through liquid time and space, feeling a tugging at all parts of their being, not a fall but more of a shift sideways. After what could have been seconds, days, or years, they found themselves hurled into what looked to be a crypt surrounded by bones and dust.

After they got themselves together Jalana turned to Grash and slapped him hard across his face, he was too dazed to react in time, and promptly took another on the other side. “What is wrong with you, you maniac!” she yelled at him whilst getting ready to continue her attack.

“Jalana! Listen to me, I just had a feeling, I knew that we had to do it, and I knew that you wouldn’t have done it had you left the temple. I’m sorry, but this was the only way. Our answers are here. I feel it, like I’m being drawn here.” he said, with a hint of apology in his voice.

Jalana lowered her hands, and took stock of the situation. Looking around she saw that she was actually okay, and that they were unharmed. Maybe he was right, and that this was what they were supposed to be doing. With so little direction recently, it was actually relieving to have some idea of what they had to do, even if it was just ‘a feeling’.

“Well, I guess we go this way” she said as they began moving towards the only tunnel leading from the room.

As they moved off the pile of bones they began to walk towards the tunnel, weary of all around them. Quietly, they heard behind them the sounds of rustling and clinking. As they both turned they found two fully formed skeletons, with weapons in their hands, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

You….who are…lost…You….who are….now found……we cannot let you give him what he needs….we guard this temple by decree of those who came before….you will not give him the key to freedom…he will….stay on his prison…

The two skeletons seemed ancient, and their armour was nothing that Grash or Jalana had ever seen. They carried blades that had all but rusted and their armour was tatters of steel and hide. As they approached the two leapt immediately, already on edge, and dispatched them almost with ease. As the two ancient guardians fell to pieces at their feet they felt a breath of relief tinged with sadness.

The two adventurers made their way down the only tunnel, its walls covered in undecipherable runes which seemed to glow with an ethereal blue, casting just enough light so that they could make their way without stumbling. After only 20 yards or so, they met another chamber. This was was far larger than the one they appeared in, the caverns ceiling stretching far beyond what little light was given off by the runes on the walls behind them.

They made their way out to the limit of the light, and stopped. Looking about them they could see some of the same runes around the walls, which seemed to be thirty feet away and glowing with the same strange bluish glow. The chamber shaped like a cylinder, with the smooth walls made form some unknown yet very strong looking stone. They looked back to where they had entered, as they’d obviously hit a dead end, however the entrance was gone.

As they watched, the runes started to glow brighter and then dimmer, then brighter again. They bother turned around, back-to-back, and looked about for the next inevitable assault. But none came…
The runes seemed to be disappearing, and what shadows that were in the room began to deepen and flow, like water and smoke through the room and in a swirling around them, there was no sound save for their scuffled footsteps as they tried to see everywhere at once.

“Okay we need to get our of here, and it looks like the only way out is up” advised Grash pointing at the unseen ceiling above their heads.
As he pointed they both felt an immense presence burst into the cavern, stifling them and holding them both in place. They could see nothing but the faint blue glow and the swirling silent shadows, but neither could move, and neither had any idea what was happening.

…aaaaaaaaaah yes. welcome little ones

A voice from nowhere, and behind it a laugh that was nether malicious nor benevolent.

it is good to have some company finally, the two protectors have been little company for such as I for soooooo loooong

Whispers in the dark, again seemingly laughing at the same time, as if the beings voice was made of trickery and cunning.

… I must say…I am impressed that you are here, and happy that we have finally found some so willing to bring me what I need

Neither Jalana nor Grash could speak, and could only stand dumbfounded as Grash had his arm held pointing at the ceiling and Jalana held her spear, ready to defend them against nothing.

…I thank you both….yet…you have disappointed me… you have hurt a servant of mine….but….as long as you cannot ever lay the hand on one of the faithful again, I believe the debt to be paid…

The shadows swirled as the laughter began, and did not stop with the voice, but gained tempo and power. The laughter moved into something else, like a map misleading the user or a statue mimicking and mocking the creator as he carved. As the shadows seemed to enter their eyes and noses all of a sudden they were gone, and with them Grash’s right hand.

They stood in shock, and as the last of the laughter subsided and the weight of the presence lifted they were both able to finally move.

Grash looked down at the bloody stump where his hand had been….and laughed….

Chapter Two
We're making friends!


Jalana and Grash begin their morning in the tavern. The unfamiliar sounds of the city wakes Jalana. Springing out of bed lithely, she feels completely refreshed and ready to explore and tackle this new city.
It was the most comfortable night she had had for quite a long time. As she looked out of the rooms only window, small and high up, only just being able to look out because of her height, she viewed the many terracotta clay roofs and wisps of white smoke and she thought back to the day before. Something incredibly remarkable had blossomed within her, a skill she never considered would become the fabric of her simple existence. Her fingertips tingled and without even her noticing, the fingernails grew longer, curling and pointy like the claws of a cat, and then withdrawing back into her normal mud caked human nails. It was an unfamiliar power that had awakened in her essence.

Hard to explain in words, a deep sensation that overwhelmed her, an adrenaline rush pulsating in her blood, liquid fire that began in her core, filling her, warming her skin and engulfed her being, until it completely took her over. The quickening of her heart exploded her through, rapidly flooding her veins until it reached her mind, transforming her mentality and physicality with raw, wild primal thoughts and terrifying incredible strength. It was exciting and empowering.
She knew this is who she is, what she was supposed to be. Like a caterpillar that knows to transform into a butterfly, the dramatic events of the previous days had forced her to adapt, to become useful, like a flower that transforms into edible fruit, she was a shape-shifter. And she knew she needed to make this almost uncontrollable power, controllable.
She thought back to the stories her grandmother told her, men and women who through years of meditation could adapt so well into nature, that they could become the actual air that they just breathed, or channel the energy of the sun that warmed their back. ‘It has been seen’, she said , ’ a spiritually elevated one would run with a pack of wolves, with the same speed and agility, then howl at the moon, in perfect chorus, and not even realize, that they were a wolf themselves’.

The power was ebbing at the corners of her mind! It was so close to the surface of her being. Her whiskers twitched when she wrinkled her nose, thinking of the brutish lizard man who had accompanied her this far. She didn’t like him. He was secretive and unnecessarily violent. But then again, she considered, perhaps it was necessary since he had helped her escape some pretty narrow and dangerous situations… didn’t mean she had to trust him though. Thinking about Grash made her feel flighty and the sudden change of animistic instinct almost overwhelmed her entirely. She felt her adrenaline surge and she imagined transforming into a cat and jumping out of the window to the roof below. It seemed almost impossible to take back control, but her willpower was just enough to hold herself back. Her stomach growled as the smells of breakfast seeped through the gaps in the wooden floorboards beneath her bare feet. After breakfast, she thinks and makes her way downstairs.

She meets Grash who is already downstairs and they decide to have breakfast together using the few coins they had. Whilst eating they meet another patron. He seems a nice enough man, in his early twenties. Content Not Found: null tells them about his occupation, that he was sent to the city by his father who is a merchant. Djymmi is meant to assess the local market and report back to his father, in order to get the edge on the competitors. Who the competitors are, are what his family is trading, we do not yet know.

Djymmi gives them a tip advising Grash that, should they require gear, they can approach a good friend of his in a nearby store who will give them a good deal on weapons, armour and anything else they need.

The two of them head over to the store, on the way hearing about the executions that will be taking place that day, and that it’s a pretty big event. They go to the store and Grash makes his acquaintance with the store-keep. They buy some necessities and move on to the town square, where they head into the crowd to view the spectacle of judgement.

After a few thieves and beggars have their heads removed, their old captain Khazeem is brought out, and just as he notices the two adventures and before he can point them out, his head is removed from his shoulders.

Whilst they are recovering from seeing Khazeem again, a guard approaches and gives them them a piece of parchment with the details of their job on it. They realise that they can approach this one of two ways. The man that needed to disappear would frequent a nearby brothel at midnight, then begin to travel to the next city by traveling out of the north gate at two bells past midnight.

The two decided to confront the man at the brothel. They made their way there and Grash paid for a room whilst Jalana shifted into cat form and hid under the bed in the targets room. When the man arrived with his companion Grash kicked the door down, skewered the working girl through the throat with his short sword and attacked the man. Jalana shifted into a tiger and mauled the man to pieces. There was no interrogation to be done this night.

The made their escape, not before Grash looted the brothel for most of its money and they killed a few more employees. Jalana was okay with all of this, and Grash was in his element. Chaos and blood rained.

They made their way out to a nearby alley way where they both cleaned themselves of the copious amounts of blood and then made their outside the city to find out where this man was headed. They encountered some strange people, who attacked them, yelling things about being servants of Slaanesh. They quickly dispatched them and the last alive told them, in his dying breath, that the blood would rain from the sky as the rivers will flow with blood.

Chapter One
Dashed on the rocks, and an unlikely duo


“Twenty severed tongues! Where in the planes is the wind?! Jalana damn you, you said there was going to be fair weather for the entire crossing.” raged Captain Khazeem. “We’ve been sitting here for almost entire day, if this wind doesn’t pick up we’ve got a problem”.

Jalana looked down from the crows-nest at Khazeem, wondering if she would hurt him if she jumped and landed on his fat face. “Captain, I told you, this doesn’t feel right. The wind, it’s like some giant has breathed in and taken it all. I cannot simply summon a wind for you.” with that she grasped a guy-line rope and swung down to the deck. “Your men might have to keep rowing for some time, Captain.”

“Well, then, it looks like we may be here a while. I will be in my quarters should anything change. Let me know immediately of any changes. In the meantime, Grash, make sure these layabouts keep the ship in good order.” the captain flourished his hand and departed to his cabin.

“I’m not your bloody deck hand, you worm.” Grash whispered to the captains back. Then to the sailors about him, “You heard the man, lets get this ship moving! You, cut the rigs and water the slaves at the oars, they’ll need it. I want rotating shifts. We can’t afford injuries.”

He turned about and headed to the railing on the starboard side and noticed the navigator looking out to the horizon.

“You see anything out there?” he asked her.

“Nothing.” she replied.

There was silence between them for some time. Then Grash decided to break the silence, “So, what’s your story?”

“That’s not part of the job description, lizard-man.” she replied without taking her eyes off the horizon. “We’re here to deliver the cargo, let’s keep this professional, huh?”

Grash sighed and leaned his lower back and elbows on the railing. Turning to her he said “Well, aren’t you a regular little bundle of happiness” and flashed a toothy grin her way.

After some quiet contemplation Jalana decided to go and find something to eat and started to turn towards the galley, however something caught her eye on the horizon. “Huh, what’s that?” she said.

Grash turned to the direction she was facing, and stared out to the horizon. He could see something, about 40 leagues away. Possibly a ship, as they hadn’t passed any land for days. “Probably just another trader making the Boiler Run, nothing to worry about little lady” he said, and turned away.

“You’re wrong.”

Grash turned back to see Jalana fixated on the ship, she didn’t turn her gaze as she continued “Pirates” she whispered.

Grash immediately turned back to the railing, gripping it in both hands and focusing his gaze on the ship in the distance. After some time he could see the ship was most certainly headed in their direction, and he could make out no flags to determine where their intentions lay.

Grash turned about, “Men and women of The Jack Tar! To your stations, I want everyone that can hold a weapon on the deck and ready to repel boarders!”

The people closest stared at him for a moment, then looked at each other, then to where Jalana was looking and saw the incoming ship. After that there was barely constrained chaos. The Captain came charging out of his cabin, “What in the Nine Hells is going on? Boarders?

“Captain Khazeem, there is a ship coming towards us showing no flags of allegiance. At this point it is merely a precautionary measure. However, I would suggest you arm yourself and prepare for battle.” explained Grash, in a very measured tone.

Khazeem stared at him incredulously, “No, noo no nooo. This can’t be right, how do they know where we are?” and with that the captain made his way to the bow and stood staring at the ship with no flags.

Grash and Jalana joined him at the front of the ship, which was raised above the regular deck. All three could see the ship, and all three knew that, this far out in the ocean there was no good reason for a ship to be coming towards them, and it almost certainly meant trouble.

As the ship came closer, and with the help of the captains looking glass, they could make out some individual details of the crew of the second ship. They seemed to be slow moving and not in a panic, like the crew of The Jack Tar. The second ship also had several members standing at the bow, and as they reached a distance of only 100 metres they turned about so the ships’ sides were facing each other.

“Captain, we cannot outrun them, nor can we hope to defeat them in battle” advised Jalana, “They want our cargo, maybe even our slaves, perhaps if we give what they want they will leave us alone.”

Khazeem looked at her for some time, and then replied “Girl, you know not what you speak of…” an his gaze went back to the man on the second ships bow, presumably their captain. “We won’t make it out of this alive…”

Grash looked at the captain, then at Jalana. He knew the captain of the other ship was watching them. Grash took out a parchment that was tucked into his leather armour and held it up in full view of all to see. “They’ll get nothing from us now..” and he lit it on fire with a flick of flint on tinder.

“The papers! You fool! They were the only proof we had!” raged the captain, as he went to snatch the still burning parchment from Grash’s hand. “Now we’ll never get our payment!”

“We will be lucky to see tomorrows sun, you stupid old fool” said Grash, as he grabbed the Captain by the shirt and threw him overboard.

“What have you done!” cried Jalana, as she watched the Captain tumbled overboard and was swallowed by the waters below. “What’s wrong with you, you madman!”

Grash grabbed her by the shoulders, “You need to trust me” he said over the shouts of the crew, “There’s more to this that there seems. You need to get below deck now. Don’t fight me on this one” he added as she began to protest. As she saw the sincerity in his eyes she realised that he spoke the truth and made her way past the panicked crew to the quarters below.

With a flourish Grash unsheathed his short sword and dagger, and gave orders to the men to form up on the side of the ship closest to the pirate ship. “If you want to make it our of this alive you’re all going to have to listen to me.” The crew made a paltry sight. There were little over a dozen crew, hardly of fighting quality, haphazardly standing about waiting for someone to tell them what to do. “Stand firm, we don’t know what it is they want, they might not even mean us any harm.” he assessed the hard looking men on the other ship.
“Unlikely though” he muttered to himself.

Just as he finished addressing the crew, the captain of the other ship looked to the giant dark skinned man to his left and nodded. The man raised his fist in the air and barked an order that Grash couldn’t understand, and he knew of no language that sounded as this one.
The men on-board the pirate ship started to cheer, and with their cheers came motions on the hull of the pirate ship, small windows started to open, and out of them appeared the cannons.

“Oh fuck” exclaimed Grash. “HIT THE DECK!” he bellowed at the crew. Almost too late the crew dropped as the cannons opened fire, the roar of the gunpowder, the victorious cheers of the pirates and the crack and thunder of the splintered wood crashed around them.
When the last of the bombardment ceased Grash realised that the pirates were aiming higher than the deck, they seemed to be aiming for the mast and rigging.

The pirates wanted them alive.

Grash got to his feet and took in his surroundings. Many were still cowering on the floor covering their heads, a few had been hit by shrapnel, and one was pinned to the deck with a piece of the mast through his stomach. Grash met the mans eyes and realised that they could not win this fight. As he turned back to the pirate ship he saw several men on their deck operating giant machines. Gleaming in the sunlight were giant harpoons, ready to launch.
“Oh come on…” he sighed as the harpoons fired and ripped into the belly of The Jack Tar. Once lodged in the men on the pirate ship started to pull their ships together.


Jalana watched as the slave sat at his oar bench, looking down at the harpoon that had ripped most of his lower body free. She didn’t know if the man was still alive or too shocked to move. Either way there was panic, the slaves were yelling and fighting one another to be free from the shackles. They all knew that their prison was sinking. “Please! Everyone calm down, it’s going to be okay!” yelled Jalana over the din, the fear almost as thick as the smell of blood in the air, some of which seemed to be dripping through he floorboards above their heads. Jalana witnessed the chaos of the scene in front of her, and she couldn’t bear to let these poor men and women drown like this. “Listen to me! We need your help, I need you all to arm yourselves and get to the deck to repel the boarders. I’m going to release your shackles.” as she said this some of the closer slaves nodded and looked at her with hope. She took the key from the wall near the stair and undid the main shackles. With that the slaves were able to release themselves individually, and as they did they grabbed oars and pieces of wood as shields and raced past Jalana and up the stairs. Oh good, we might actually have a chance now! thought Jalana to herself. as she made her way upstairs behind them.

As she made her way up the stairs she came onto a word of disorder, the slaves had run out of the galley to be confronted by the crew of The Jack Tar, who turned about to face them. The slaves, not knowing how long they would live, started to band together and huddled, oars facing the crew and their eyes darting between the pirates and their present captors.
Jalana could see Grash attempting to rally what was left of the crew to attempt some kind of last stand on the bow of the ship, as she was staring she saw him glance in her direction and shout something. She couldn’t hear what he said, but she saw him point to the pirate ship, which had come close enough for the enemy to start boarding.

As she watched, Grash grabbed an undamaged piece of rigging connected to the half destroyed mast, sheathed his dagger leaving his short sword free, and swung from the bow of the ship to where Jalana stood near the cabins. “Quick, get inside the captains cabin and get ready to block the door. We cannot hope to defeat them.” he said, as they both witnessed the pirate boarders start to make their way onto their ship and begin the inevitable massacre. Jalana obeyed, getting into the captains now unoccupied room, and closed the door behind her.

Grash surveyed the scene around him, and honestly had no idea what he was going to do. He saw the pirate captains right hand man, the giant beast of a thing, clambering aboard and smiling as he cut down the slaves and crew alike. Grash realised that it was an albino half-Orc. Grash felt his stomach drop at the site of the raw and terrible power of the barbarian, and realised they needed a better plan. Looking around him he saw a lantern, lit, and full of oil. He grabbed it and threw it to the ground in front of him, hoping beyond all hope that it might delay their attackers. He kept his eyes on the melee as he backed into the captains cabin and closed and barred the door behind him.

“What’s going on here, Grash?” asked Jalana behind him. She had Khazeem’s chest open, the one that supposedly contained the valuable cargo that they were bringing to Masalan. “It’s empty, where’s the cargo…”
“Girl, this is no time for such things, we have only minutes to leave at most, we need a plan.” he replied, even as he was moving another piece of furniture to block the entrance. “Look around, they’re going to use their axes to gain entry, and then they will kill us both. We need to block the door with something.”

As they were looking for more things to block the door, Jalana took the cloth off of the barrel that the captain advised was his ‘vintage wine’ that was bound for the markets of Masalan. “What is this? This is no barrel of wine. No wine I know requires a wick. Grash! See this, you of all would know such guile.”
Grash, impatient with her relaxed demeanour, reluctantly stopped boarding the door and came over to see what she had found. “By the planes of fire,” Grash exclaimed. “This is strange. Jalana, this is gunpowder, an entire barrels worth. What would Khazeem, that simpering fool, be doing with this?” Grash ran his hands over the barrel, almost intimately.
Jalana watched as Grash’s eyes lit up, almost glowing red in the dark cabin. A heat seemed to radiate from him, a dark heat, like coals in the shadows.

“I have a plan” he said. “Help me with this, and be careful”. He began to move the barrel towards the door. With Jalanas help they moved the barrel to the door. With it secured in place he placed a hand on her shoudler, “G-..Jalana, I need to tell you something, and it’s very impor-”

A huge cracking came from outside and a shudder in the cabin told them that the pirates had started to break their way into their ephemeral sanctuary. “This will have to wait, now listen to me, get that chest out the window, follow it out and get into it and close the lid. I’m going to wait until they are gathered outside the door and then…then I’m going make them pay for this.”

Jalana looked at him, her eyes wide as dinner plate, she did not need to look up at him to meet his gaze. Just as he thought she was in shock and had lost her wits, she laughed. She laughed, slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “Oh, you Red Dragun-Borne are so brave aren’t you? I heard the stories, you know. I never thought them true. Your deep seeded desires to be consumed by the flame, only to spite your old Dragon masters.” She looked at him, with something of pity, and a twist of respect. Grash, taken off guard said nothing. “You’ll do nothing of the kind, hero. The wick on this barrel is long enough for you to light it and escape, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Grash looked at the wick, and saw that it just might be long enough to give him a moment to get out of the blast radius. He looked at her, then, as another blow hit the door and exposed a glimpse of the deck outside- “Fine, by the gods this will be a close one…what have I gotten myself into.” he said, “You get the chest out and I will light this and follow you out, it’ll be close so be ready and we don’t know how big this will be, I’ve never seen this much gunpowder in one place.”

Jalana went to the chest which was thankfully placed right under the main window at the very rear of the ship. She got it up onto the ledge, which was a feat in itself as it was big enough to hold a sow, then, with it teetering on the ledge- “Grash, be quick about it you oaf, they don’t sound like they’re taking a break any time soon” and with a wink and a smile she and the chest were out of sight and into the waters below.

“Damn that girl” he said, smiling as he set the wick and ensured it was in place. The axes were hacking at the door and through several pieces of furniture and a break in the door he saw the half-Orc standing a few feet back from the men hacking through the door. Grash met the barbarians eyes. It was very clear to Grash, even at this distance, that the half-Orc was very much looking forward to gaining entry into the room. The depth less hate in those eyes…the rage…the calm cold frozen enmity… Grash had seem barbarians in a rage before, however this…this was different, it was cloying, the anger was sapping at his spirit, draining his resolve, and the half-Orc but stood behind the men..watching..waiting….

Grash shook his head- “Well gentlemen!” he called to them as he lit the fuse.“I’ve had a blast, but now I think it’s your turn!” and with that he turned his back on the door and ran to the window. he jumped from the window and just as he hit the waves beneath he felt more than heard an enormous explosion behind him. He was buffeted by the underwater shock-waves and was hurled from the water on a wave pushed away from the explosion, breaching the surface he was thrown through the air and, in an incredible stroke of good luck, into the chest with Jalana. The lid of the chest snapped shut and they knew only darkness and the screams of the dying.

The eventually awoke on the beach, where they could see nothing around them as far as the eye could see. After making camp and resting they were surprised by some men on camels and horses and were beaten and taken prisoner. They eventually escaped by killing their fellow prisoners, Grash stealing a camel and Jalana turning into one. They made their way, following the trail that the men were taking, and eventually came across a caravan at an oasis.
They traded in a few spare possessions for a few silver and met the master of the merchant caravan. Jalana and the merchant got off on the wrong foot so Grash stepped in and smoothed things over. The man advised that he would be willing to give a lot of money to someone who would ‘take care of’ a guard in the city. Grash took the job and they made their way along the road into the city of Masalan.

The wandered through the lower common areas, leaving their camel in a street, alone by itself, and it was promptly confiscated by strangers. They had decided not to sell it to the merchant outside, as they did not want gold.

They ended up in the temple district, at The Skewered Goose and met Sven, the honest and dependable owner. They put up their feet and slept their first night on solid ground for some time.

The Story So Far...
There and...well...not back again.

The dawn breaks calm and bright, with a strong westerly, just like Captain Khazeem said it would.

The dock-men are taking the last of the provisions into the hold of the The Jack Tar, a relatively mistakable trading ship from the southern isles. Well built from the dark boreal woods from the northern tundra, it’d seen it’s fair share of the ocean over it’s long service.

As the gulls screeched their morning cries and the shops along the wharf were beginning to open their doors to the people, the captain was in discussion with his obviously upset companion. With his arms crossed on his chest, the intimidating Dragun-Borne peered down his nose as he was advising the captain that he did not agree with so many unknown people coming and going unchecked from the ship.

“It’s fine, Grash! You worry too much, my friend, why do you worry? I do not pay you to worry, I pay you to make sure the job is done, and keep me safe in the meantime. You can interview each and every one of them, if you think that is best. I’ll meet you in the whorehouses of Masalan! Hahaa!”. And with a friendly clap to Grash’s shoulder and a chuckle, the captain went to make sure the ship was stocked with enough wine for the voyage.

You know, for head of security, you’re a little careless
..a whisper in his ear made Grash turn about, showing no outward signs of surprise.
However there was nobody directly behind him, save the navigator. Leaning on a barrel a few metres behind him, she was carving pieces off an apple with a small knife, which seemed to hold her attention completely.

“A ventriloquist is it? Quite a strange skill for navigator, isn’t it?” he asked, not being one to be fooled so easily. “You best be more careful girl, I don’t like surprises”.

’I’m no girl, lizard-man. It is but a trick of the wind, nothing more." she said, and then, after raising her eyes to meet his. “They say that you have a few tricks up your sleeves, too.”

To Grash’s ears her accent placed her from the southern archipelago tribes, but her casual stance and attire spoke of her domestication. Grash could see that he wasn’t dealing a simple map reader.

“I have enough tricks to get me by” he said simply, and with that turned about and started passing orders to the men, ensuring the ship was ready to set sail for Masalan that very morning.


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