Chapter 8 – Part 3

The approach to the docks was unheralded, to say the least. The Captain had taken the staff that Oalian had given to Thomas, and conjured up a fog so thick that it was nearly solid. Orphan considered this the least of the staff’s powers, but he also understood that the Captain wasn’t quite as good at manipulating magical devices as Thomas had been – the fiend’s command of the Crimson Ship notwithstanding.

And so they disembarked. Delegado and Feather first, the half-orc stepping carefully down the plank, their bags on his back and the body of Bartemain in his arms. Ois followed him by several feet. Her armor’s glamer was currently disguising itself as simple mail, and she presented the face of a simple human woman. Gone from the casual eye was any indicia of the Silver Flame.

Iron Orphan thought that Ois’ disguise would merit hiding the Flame insignia, but he suspected something deeper was at play.

The warforged came last. He didn’t descend the gangplank, but instead chose to jump and tumble, though he could scarcely see the dock. It was a fun challenge, but what was more fun was telling the Captain that he would be back one day. The Captain’s response was to snort and throw Oalian’s staff at the monk.

A fine quarterstaff, Orphan thought to himself, whistling it through the air as he moved to stand next to Delegado. “I hear people ahead,” he whispered to the half-orc.

“Yep,” Delegado said.

The trio stood in silence for a moment, and felt rather than saw the Crimson Ship slip away in the fog. Then a breeze stirred, and the fog moved. It was a minute, maybe two, and the fog suddenly vanished.

Many sets of eyes blinked at the sudden morning light, what little came through the thick clouds. The Crimson Ship was gone, and to the casual observer, the warforged, the half-orc, and the ‘human’ woman had appeared with the fog.

Of course the observers were not exactly casual. The dock was nestled in between two high walls, with iron-reinforced firing positions, and many were the longbows, crossbows, and other weapons pointed their way. At first casual scan, Orphan saw thirty armed individuals, mostly human and orc, but not a few gnoll, and even an ogre ready to toss down a barrel with a lit fuse sticking out of it.

None of them were particularly friendly.

“Czharr’kann!” bellowed Delegado. Orphan had picked up enough orc to know that Delegado was demanding their attention. “I am Delegado of the United House! I have been to the far ends of Khorvaire, and I have found many things!”

Here he paused, and raised his burden high above his head.

“I have found what you in Blood Crescent have lost!” the half-orc bellowed. “I have found the body of my father, Bartemain!”

There was a stir, and the double iron doors at the other end of the docks opened wide. Full-blooded orcs with long, curved blades came out, then stood to the side as a majestic human male with striking features, salt-and-pepper hair, and a flowing ermine cape strode forward. A raven rode his shoulder and appeared to whisper briefly into his ear. The man wore no armor and carried no visible weapon, but Orphan saw flashes of light at his fingertips and knew that this man carried magical power.

And his features looked somewhat familiar.

“Cousin?” asked the man in the cape. “Can it be?”

“It can, Foallus, and it is,” Delegado said. “I bear the body of your uncle, my father, retrieved from the fiends. Now take my companions and I to Baruk, he needs the tale first.”