Session 1


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The adventure begins on the 24th day of the Rainquarter for our heroes as their respective paths, either through the ebb and flow of fate or by the guidance of some mysterious hand, assemble on the docks in the town of Freestone in the Civilized lands.

All of Freestone is abuzz with excitement. A ship is coming! A ship is coming! It is said to be big enough to hold an army of men! The 24th day is a working day, but many were finding ways to leave their jobs to come down to the docks. The fishing boats are still out, so there are very few ships in dock. Some of the lads from the fishoil manufactury are out, washing down the carts they will fill with fish.

Just after the sun is past its peak, the Jollee comes into port, all sails out. Soon it seems the entire fishing fleet is coming home early and most of the work in Freestone has come to a halt. People crowd the dock, murmuring and waiting.

After more than an hour, a ship appears from around the bend. It is larger than any boat you have ever seen. And it is as large as they say, at least 50 or 60 yards long with oars bristling out of the sides. It sits low in the water, with a large mast in the middle and a smaller one near the front. The prow is curved in a strange fashion. It flies a flag of black with a yellow sun in the middle.

Some of the people flee to their homes. The children push to the front. The fishing boats crowd the dock, but they leave the end of the longest pier free. As the ship nears, the sound of deep drums can be heard and the chanting of many men. Their sounds syncopate with the oars.

The ship accelerates as it approaches the pier and then with a roar all the oars slice down into the water and pull hard backwards, braking the ship with a surge of water.

When the water has calmed, two sailors get up on the side of the ship and throw over a long wooden gangplank. Two tall men walk down the gangplank. Thin black cloaks fall from their shoulders, opening to reveal dull metal armor. They wear tall helmets with a spike coming from the top. When they reach the dock they take three steps forward and stop, one on each side of the gangplank.

A third man comes out, dressed in the same manner. When he reaches the bottom, he takes off his helmet and puts it under his arm. He has a kindly face and he smiles gently at the crowd.

"Greetings," he says.

The crowd does not respond.

"We seek men. We have sailed long to find men of skill and potential. We guarantee only a berth on this ship, steady meals, a fair wage and lots of work. We offer a chance at great wealth and perhaps even glory. Interested men should return in ten minutes."

He turns and walks back up the gangplank. The two other officers stand to one side. 5 sailors, in pants and no shirt, come out, carrying a large wooden desk. It is followed by two chairs, each placed on one side of the desk.

Another man comes out, clearly the leader. His uniform is made of richer material and the metal on his armor shines. A huge sword swings from his waist. He sits down behind the desk.

Seika, Mosholu, Angry Pipe and Linear are signed to one year's service to the army of North Helios. Mosholu joined under the alias of Leggat. They give up their belongings to the ships stores and put on the white duck uniforms of the oarsmen of the ship. They are assigned rowing benches on starboard side near the bow. They converse with one another until dinner, when they go downstairs to be served a plate of rich orcish gruel, made by a cheerful half-orc named Garfer Toesoup.

They spend some days getting to know the layout of the ship and some of the other people. They are approached by a seedy-looking gnome, flanked by two hulking half-orcs with rings in their noses. The gnome introduces himself as Jonrat and his two companions as Tosser and Felcher. They grunt. He explains that he runs the fights on the ship and he is looking for some new companions. Angry Pipe immediately offers to participate. Jonrat seems particularly interested in Seika, as word had spread that he had spent the nights sleeping outside on his rowing bench. Seika declines at first, explaining that he sees no reason to fight without purpose. But after the urging of his new-found companions and a brief philosophical discussion with Jonrat, decides to participate also.

Days go by as the crew alternates between long stretches of rowing and swabbing the decks and plain sitting around. After 8 days the first night of the fights approaches. The combat is held midships on the fore side. The Seeker, as Jonrat announces Seika, finishes his opponent, a muscular Sailor, with a surprising three punch attack after what seemed like a close match. The crowd claps and cheers in appreciation of a new and worthy combatant. The Sailor did not come to until Tosser poured something in his mouth.

Mosholu took his winnings on Seika and put them all on Angry Pipe.

Angry pipe is next and he seems to not even really be present. His opponent stands with the stairway behind him. Why, we'll never know, because the crazy-looking elf suddenly charged, throwing his entire body into the sailor and knocking him down the stairs. Angry Pipe went with him and nobody saw anything after that until he came out carrying the unconscious Sailor over his shoulder. Some by the stairs swear they saw the elf smashing his face into the sailor as they crashed down the stairs. The audience cheered, but kept their distance. The elf went back to his bench and finished his pipe.

Mosholu had almost quadrupled his money by betting on his new found acquaintances.

As Mosholu began to get his sea legs back and make some aquaintances around the Lido, he also became more concerned about his spell book, which he'd given up with the rest of his belongings when he first joined the ship. He met a thin, worried sailor named Miro, who after some hesitation, badly lied that everything would be returned to the oarsmen when they arrived in Palazar. Mosholu spent the next couple of days searching around the ship, trying to discover the whereabouts of his spellbook. He was able to pick the lock on the food storage room on the Berthing Dock floor, but found only Garfer and Angry Pipe in a cloud of weed and conversation. He walked away with a jar of dried figs.

The next day he made a foray into the floor door of the berthing gallery. In the dim light below, he found the hold filled with crates. On the fore wall was a locked door that took him a half-hour to finally wheedle open. The room revealed row after row of neatly hung suits of armor. Behind that was another door with a similar lock. This one opened after three tries and Mosholu found a smaller room filled with crossbows, bolts and shortspears, also all neatly organized. His foray fore finally halted at a wall with three doors of banded steel. He tried the less intimidating locks on the left and right with no success. Time nipping at his heels, Mosholu left and came back up to the Berthing station.

Two and a half days of a brutal thunderstorm rocked the ship and punished the oarsmen who, lashed to their benches for most of the storm, survived only on cold gruel. Garfer could not risk lighting the fires and did his best to make nourishment for the exhausted men. When the storm finally cleared, the weather became noticeably hotter. The oily wood of the ship steamed and the men of the Civilized Lands felt a moisture in the air they had never encountered before.

Mosholu, following up on the hearsay from Garfer (through Angry Pipe) that he'd seen Lieutenant Tegamon using magic, approached the officer and tried to engage him in conversation. Tegamon was distant and unhelpful. Mosholu bribed him with a jar of figs, saying that Garfer had sent them to him. This lightened the lieutenant's mood, but he still gave no solid answer about the return of Mosholu's property.

The semi-final matches took place two days later and this time the opponents were of much higher calibre. Again, the Seeker was first on the card, battling Zamos, a thin and muscled sailor with a blond ponytail. Unbeknownst to the party, Zamos had beaten all of his previous opponents with a deadly trip that brought them to the deck where he quickly struck. The crowd was stunned to silence when Seika got the drop on Zamos and immediately opened with a trip attempt himself! Zamos parried and a chess match of sweeps followed, each man so evenly matched that nary a blow was struck. Finally, Zamos retreated, leaping to the railing.

The audience parted to the side, giving room. But the Seeker did not follow. He waited. Zamos waited. The wait went on. Yells came from the back, the crowd started pressing the fighters to engage. Seika's eyes seemed far away, his face unconcerned. Finally, Zamos realized that his opponent would wait forever. He jumped down and attacked, but the Seeker was prepared. His blows rained down this time, his legs planted in a firm stance. Zamos caught Seika once on the chin, but it was too little too late and a focused palm strike to the chest sent him reeling and unconscious.

Mosholu snuck off once he saw Lt. Tegamon on deck. He bypassed him and went down to the Officers' Quarters. He picked the lock on Tegamon's door, opening it and narrowly avoiding a fine spray that came from a nozzle at chest height in the door. Inside, he found a neat and spartan room with a bed, a desk and a chest. The desk contained writing materials and a scroll case. Inside the case he found a scroll. He took it and put it in his waistband, replacing it with a blank vellum sheet. The rest of the room contained only clothing.

Back on deck, Angry Pipe was next and before Jonrat began his introductions, the crowd parted and a huge, squat, bald man, skin blackened by the sun, came up from the stairs. His round head was wedged between his two round shoulders like a pile of cannonballs. Again Angry Pipe charged, delivering a head butt. A cheap, dirty, thoroughly entertaining battle of attrition followed, including biting and double handed chin blows. Angry Pipe got in many nasty hits, but the size and toughness of Gamburu was too much and he finished the wild elf with a stunning uppercut, knocking him out cold. The elf collapsed on his back and Linear ran to him.

While the fight was in full swing, Mosholu was trying the other three doors in the officers' quarter. Two of them revealed nothing of interest, but the last one revealed Blind Lars, waking from a nap. He looked up, his one eye a milky-white orb lined with thin red blood vessels, the other looking crazily off to some corner. Around the ship, he usually kept his head down. To see his visage straight on is a truly intimidating sight. Mosholu hesitated for a half-second and then slammed the door shut. As he ran up the stairs to the topdeck, he heard Blind Lars smash into the door and then cry, "I smell you!"

After the fight, Jonrat announced that next tenday the final match, for all the beans, for the bottle of orc grog, would take place between the Seeker and current reigning champion Gamburu.

To be continued...