Chapter 2 - Part 1

CHAPTER TWO - THE MORE PLAYERS, THE MORE THE GAME CONTINUES

Early morning on the 2nd of Aryth, 993 YK. A cold beach on the northwestern edge of the Demon Wastes.

They kneeled in prayer over the unmoving body of their friend. Around them a storm raged, and being of pure evil howled their murderous intent to destroy the intruders.

There was nothing but cold rain, intense prayer, and impending death…until something heavy crashed loudly through the surf to the west, heard above the storm.

The half-orc looked first, turning his head to the right, peering through the thick weather. He blinked, water running out of his eyes from the rain.

“What is it?” asked Ois. She let go of Delegado’s and Thomas’ hands, standing as she drew her sword.

“I see Crimson,” Thomas said, slowly standing.

“I see motion, not color, but there is a ship out there!” Delegado said. The half-orc stooped and lifted Iron Orphan’s body. “Thomas, get your horse, get moving!” The half-orc clicked his tongue twice, and his hawk launched itself west, over the ocean.

A bounding thing, something like a gorilla, but with red eyes that leaked smoke and with coal-black worms a foot long wiggling and weaving in and out of its gray, hairless flesh, howled a wordless battle cry as it hurled itself through the mist and landed on Thomas’ horse. The gorilla-like fiend gibbered madly as the horse screamed and whinnied and died.

“Get into the water!” Thomas said, holding aloft the magical staff. Wind slammed into the gorilla-thing, shoving away from the horse’s corpse. The gorilla-thing had only been atop the horse for a handful of seconds, but it had somehow launched the worms within its own flesh into the horse, and the animal was eaten up from inside. Even now as the magically summoned wind pushed back gorilla-thing and worms, barely a quarter of the horse’s mass remained. Thomas concentrated, and a lightning bolt ripped down, incinerating the remains of his former mount. “Go! Go! Go!”

They ran, the freezing water hitting their feet, then their waists. Delegado bore the shock of the cold, his years in the outdoors giving him a greater endurance. He strained to keep his grip on his friend’s body as hard and loose rocks under the water tried to twist his footing.

Ois shuddered, nearly falling, but Thomas came up behind her and put his shoulder under hers, supporting her. She did not flinch at his stormstalk, and the stormstalk did not pull away from her, either. Neither the half-daelkyr nor the changeling had had enough sleep, and neither were handling the freezing water very well.

Snarls and gibbering behind them told them that their foe had not stopped pursuit. Storm and wind raged around them.

“If you were planning on waking up,” Delegado coughed to Orphan’s limp body, as seawater splashed into his mouth. “Now would be a good time.”

The mist in front of the half-orc suddenly parted, and a large ocean-going vessel moved from north to south- barely twenty feet from the son of House Tharashk. Delegado barely got a look at what were intricately craved patterns in the red-painted wood before a rope attached to the deck splashed down next to him.

“A ship!” he called back. “A Crimson Ship!” The half-orc grabbed the rope with his right hand, secured his grip on his warforged friend with his left, and kicked forward on the waves. He swung forward and braced his feet on the hull. Muscles straining and screaming in protest, he began hauling himself upwards, his boot toes finding purchase where they could.

From atop the railing Feather screamed. The hawk grabbed another rope in its claws, flew out, and dropped it down to Ois and Thomas. They grabbed on, and once they had firm grips, the ship turned, heading slowly out to sea.

On the beach, the demons howled in frustration, still not understanding how their prey had eluded them.