Everyone but Hakkan stares for a minute, open-mouthed. As they reconvene, Mildburh is the first to speak. Shooting a glance to the orc, she chimes: "But not as grand as a Bransee hydra,
surely?" Gudran gives a snort.
Tarzic looks at Hakkan, who continues to stare at where the beast lumbered off. "Think it's out of the fight, boss?" he asks.
"For now, at least." He takes a breath as he turns to the ship. "Assuming there
is a crew onboard... What is the likelihood the magical aura deterred it from striking the ship?"
"Without knowing the nature of the magic... I would guess about 50/50."
"T'is what I feared. Alright," he calls, and the group gathers 'round, "We have a chance to scout the ship before the hydra returns. Gudran and I will lead; Sweip, take to the skies at the first sign of trouble."
"But I—"
"Your domain is the air; you will better serve in flight. Besides, if the hydra returns, you will be in a better position to see it."
The group cautiously follows the shallows, walking gently so as to reduce disturbance on the water surface. The ship's keel is partially visible, so badly has it beached itself. As Hakkan stares at the boards, searching for a way to scale it, Gudran steps up and produces a pair of grappling hooks. The wolf and the orc each take a rope and toss it over with a thunk, then proceed to scale up the ship. Hakkan clambers over the side. The deck is bare, but the empty ship continues to creak of its own volition. Gudran has barely made it over the rail before Hakkan tells him to ready his bow and keep watch. He leans back over the side and motions for the mages to follow, while Sweip flaps up to join them on deck.
[youtube=400]UGl0aOkLTOg[/youtube]
"Good condition for a ghost ship," mutters the witch, looking around. Hakkan grasps his sword as he leads the group forward toward the cabin quarters. No sooner do they reach midway than a rhythmic groaning is heard and the door begins to open. Gudran hastily shoves Sweip in front of him. Out of the cabin emerge three hooded figures, a sickly-looking tlaloc flanked by an orc and a sturdy goblin. Tarzic's eyes blow wide as he takes in the robes: black with golden trim around the edges, with jagged flame-like emblems on the front.
The tlaloc in the middle immediately fixes its gaze on Tarzic. "Do you not know that you are intruding on
private property?" it wheezes. "What business do you have?"
"We are but a band of humble travellers—" Hakkan begins diplomatically.
"
Well-armed travellers," interrupts the figure.
"One cannot be too careful in these parts," the wolf replies. "We had heard a troop of soldiers went missing near here not a fortnight past. Know you anything?"
The reptile flashes a toothy smile, sucking in air as it turns to face the champion. The group can hear movement from down below. Sweip desperately wants to slink away, but Gudran is holding him in place. "Yes," it breathes, "Creatures like yourself... Not usual we get such hardy specimens... They made
excellent sacrifices."
Hakkan's hackles bristle. "And who are 'we'?"
"The Cult of Totec," Tarzic murmurs. "I thought you were extinct."
"You were grossly misinformed," the cultist retorts. "But no matter; power demands sacrifice, and what better tribute to our glorious leader than a wayward tla—"
Sweip pulls away as Gudran looses an arrow right into the cultist's throat. Hakkan winces, then draws his sword. "At will!" he shouts as the two other cultists charge. The cargo hold grille bursts open as cultists strike the party's flank. "Sweip, get clear!" the wolf hollers, and the avian leaps into flight. Hakkan swings left and right, striking down handfuls of opponents with each blow. Gudran begins distributing throwing knives with a dexterity his gruff attitude had managed to keep hidden as the casters try to hold off the horde. Sweip swoops in at opportune moments, tussling with men in the back and tossing them overboard. They are slowly forced toward the quarter deck, but the mages figure out a rhythm, Mildburh impeding the cultists' advance with brief shockwaves as Tarzic prepares more hurtful spells. Just as they seem overpowered, the tlaloc dashes through a break in the enemy line and releases a jet of fire that sends the cultists into a panic, plunging into the water in a desperate bid to douse the ethereal flames.
As Sweip prepares for another dive, a dark shadow in the water catches his attention. "Oh no," he breathes; "Seven-heads is back!" he cries to the party below.
"Drat," growls Hakkan. "Into the hold; quickly!" Ignoring the last few cultists streaming out of the cabin, the adventurers leap down the hatch into the ship's interior. The few startled cultists are easily dispatched; Hakkan dashes toward the stairs.
"What are we looking for?" calls the witch as the group runs after him.
"Survivors!" He meets three cultists running up the stairs and promptly impales them, then kicks them off with a foot, sending them toppling into another incoming group. The party hastily descends into the belly of the ship. Mildburh struggles to suppress the urge to retch; scattered about the hold are severed limbs and desecrated bones, while flayed corpses hang chained to the walls, evidence of a blood ritual not seen outside the worst of the demonic cults. The three cultists guarding the room grab whatever torture implements are handy and make for the group, but Gudran shoots one down while Tarzic blasts the two remaining. Taking a moment to survey the infernal hold, Hakkan realizes that not all the bodies are dead. "Tarzic, Mildburh, grab anything here you deem useful. Sweip, keep watch. Gudran, help me get them free." The ship shakes suddenly, and muted shouts echo from above. "And make it quick."
The wolf and the orc rush over to the captured soldiers. They are all stripped bare and badly beaten, deep gashes all across their bodies, some still bleeding. They are quickly broken out of their bindings, but remain unconscious. "They're out cold," he calls. The witch pulls away to tend to the soldiers as the fighters free the remainder. Using a combination of magic and medicine, she manages to stabilize the poor prisoners. One begins to stir, and she dashes back over to help him up.
"Wherrmie?" he slurs, voice croaky from dehydration.
"It's OK," she coos, "Rest easy. You're safe now." There is another sudden lurch, followed by an unsettling bestial cry; Gudran snorts.
As the soldier begins to regain his focus, he gestures to the wall to which he was bound. "Morbehnnwal," he murmurs, before his strength evaporates and Mildburh gently lays him back down, turning to the others.
Hakkan understands immediately. He throws himself at the wooden barrier once, twice, and the invisible doors cave in. He stumbles into one of the most deplorable scenes he as ever witnessed in his life. Trapped in steel cages much too small lie the remaining survivors of the expedition, similarly emaciated, similarly naked, but that at least do not bear the scars of chronic torture. If his face was not already white, it would turn so as he spies a segregated set of three cells at the furthest end.
Female soldiers. His heartbeat rapidly accelerates as his whole body ripples from the outrage. The prisoners begin to stir, the break-in having jolted the little consciousness they have left. Gudran's jaw drops as he joins the champion, cursing under his breath as he takes it all in. Wasting no time, Hakkan moves to the nearest cage and with nothing more than his own two hands rips off the door, moving from cell to cell and repeating the process like a man possessed. Having finished tending to the wounded, Mildburh moves to aid the rest of the prisoners, but seeing their condition calls Tarzic over for aid.
When the captured soldiers, eleven in all, are strong enough to stand, Hakkan addresses the group: "Before we go any further; is this everyone left?" The soldiers eye the remains of their comrades and nod silently. "We have an unknown number of cultists and an excited hydra outside. Do you know where they stored your weapons?"
"Not exactly," says a wolfess, "But they should be somewhere on the ship."
"Alright; we'll sweep the upper decks. Grab anything that you can use." The group nearly falls off-balance as the hydra strikes the ship again. Hakkan turns to the mages. "Do you have everything you need?"
"As much as we can carry," replies Tarzic, patting a satchel full to bursting.
"OK. We're moving out. Stick together."
They rush through the upper decks. While the adventure party deals with lingering cultists, the soldiers scour the rooms for their weapons and armour. Some of the weapons are broken and much of the armour was pilfered by the cultists, but by the time they reach the poop deck they bear a passing resemblance to the unit that had entered the woods. Motioning for everyone to stay put, Hakkan creeps out into the open to survey the scene. Aside from a group of archers on the quarter deck, the cultists have abandoned the ship, creating a perimeter on the beach from where they are fighting the enraged hydra. "OK," he shout-whispers, ducking back inside, "The hydra has them distracted. You make a run for the woods; we'll cover." Hakkan checks to make sure the archers are still occupied, then gives the signal. The soldiers stream out of the cabin, hopping over the starboard side before sprinting toward the woods. As they do so, the adventurers take position along the sandbar.
As the last soldier hits the water, one of the cultists on the beach notices and directs his comrades toward the escapees. Seeing the contingent peel off, the archers turn about, but Tarzic has been holding a spell ready and sends a shockwave that rips across the quarter deck and sends them flying into the water and in reach of the hydra. Ducking low, they sprint for the safety of the trees, Gudran pausing for opportunity shots at their pursuers. Soon enough the cultists are dispatched, and the group rallies on the same hill overlooking the lake. Hakkan begins to mutter under his breath; Sweip and Gudran look with confusion as the soldiers bow their heads, but Mildburh recognizes some of the words as part of a varrevsk prayer. "Tarzic?" says Hakkan, still staring at the ship.
"Yes, boss?"
"Destroy it."
The tlaloc closes his eyes as he rubs his hands together in deep concentration. Breathing in a meditative rhythm, he holds still for a full two minutes. Then, in a rapid gesture, he thrusts his hands toward the ship. There is a loud string of explosions as the warship disintegrates with such violence that it even startles the hydra. Hakkan turns back to the group.
"Let's go home."
