Chapter 2 - Part 4

Delegado shivered as the cold wind sliced at his wet clothing and chain shirt. He spun around, trying to see something of the vessel that he was on, but he saw no more than rigging and sails when movement caught his eye.

Flying creatures, coming from the storm that still raged above the beach.

The half-orc clicked the stand down command to Feather, and took his bow from his shoulder without thinking. They looked like harpies, but bigger, and with a fiendish aspect.

Nothing in this place is not twisted, the half-orc growled to himself, reaching for his quiver.

His hand touched an empty tube of leather. Startled, he looked down. Either he had used his arrows up, or lost the remaining ones in his desperate swim.

Delegado moved around the deck of the ship, noting several latched storage containers. He saw no crew, no single being on deck, anywhere, but there were weapons lockers stationed where they would be on a Lyrandar vessel.

The half-orc concentrated, drawing on the power of his dragonmark to find arrows. Any arrows, somewhere.

There. Each one of the lockers had arrows, but one of them had the strongest feeling to his mark. He was ready to slice it open with his adamantine sword, but he saw that it was not locked.

A keening cry, muffled by the wind, reached his ears. He wanted to turn to it, to follow it, but he was at the edge of its range and was able to resist. Nonetheless he turned his head and noticed that Thomas was in the harpy-thing’s thrall.

And that Thomas was the only reason that Ois had not drowned.

The half-orc jerked the weapons locker open so quickly that the wooden top splintered. Inside there were over two dozen arrows, finely crafted and made, and sporting magical sigils besides.

Delegado grabbed the first one, spun, sighted, and drew, all within a breath. As fast as his arm could move he fired, snarling behind clenched teeth.