Alec stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Yeemik and squared off against the remaining pirate scrags at the bow of the ship. Theryn heard the sound of pirates rallying below deck, shouting epithets and battle cries as they prepared to storm out onto the quarterdeck to avenge their fallen comrades. He took note of two hatchways in the quarterdeck where stairs led below. The battle cries were returned from the railing of the Tide-Runner as Captain Ironclaw took the helm and ordered her crew into action. “Go get ‘em, laddies!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. “For First Mate Kask! For Port Llast! For vengeance, coin and glory!” Herc McGurk, Gully Blackwater, and Loud Laurel were among the first crew members to swing across the gap between the two ships to land smartly on the quarterdeck, ready for action. Alec recklessly swung his mercurial greatsword at the nearest scrag, gutting the massive creature on his second swing. He cleaved through the dying creature to slash at another scrag that was desperately trying to bring its trident up to block. The second scrag vomited blood and then died; its innards laid open for the gulls. Alec tossed his magnificent mane of hair back and spewed dragon’s fire from his mouth into the air. He locked eyes with a drow sniper in the crow’s nest, placed his sword between his gritted teeth, and began to climb the mast. From his position next to the Tide-Runner’s helm, Bob surveyed the gory battlefield on the St. Asmod’s Hope ’s main deck. Scorch marks from various fireball spells covered several sections of decking, while a veritable fountain of intestines and gore volleyed forth from the bow. Bob could hear the sound of pirates gathering steam below the ship’s decks, and conjured another guardian of faith to hover atop one of the hatchways nearest the bow. The spectral guardian’s shield bore the erotic crest of Sune, and its sword blade was covered in engravings of writhing roses. Bob used mage hand to grasp a nearby rope, and carefully swung across. He misjudged the amount of slack that the rope had, however, and immediately dipped down between the two ships, banging himself against the hull of the St. Asmod’s Hope . Painfully, he began to hand-over-hand his way up the side of the pirate warship. Above him, Herc McGurk pulled out a prosthetic arm from his collection and reached it down to offer a helping hand to Bob, who sheepishly grabbed it. The salty sailor hauled the sorcerer aboard. “Nobody saw that, right?” Bob wheezed. Herc winked. From its precarious perch on the broken mizzen-top nest, the wildshaped liondrake yowled morosely. The creature dug its claws deep into the split wood at the top of the mast. “Strange,” Theryn said, looking at the housecat. The monk shrugged and began to sneak below deck via the nearest hatchway. The top step creaked loudly as he put his weight on it. Theryn rolled his eyes and continued to descend. This was obviously the crew deck. Hammocks were strung up on beams and posts pounded into the ceilings and floor, and strongboxes and other items were stored and secured at various points. Lanterns gave off an insufficient amount of light. Curiously, the centre of the deck featured a row of cell cages. They did not appear to be occupied. Theryn saw a gaggle of pirates moving past him, unaware of his presence, as they checked weapons and buckled armour over their pirate blouses. Fading into the shadows, Theryn unlimbered his stormbow and crept along behind the pirate squad. He hid behind the first of two long tables with benches on either side of it. In the gloom, he could make out a second group of pirates preparing to storm up the stairs above the deck. Theryn charged his bow and let an arrow fly. Lightning energy crackled as the arrow struck his target. There was a brilliant white flash that disintegrated the pirate instantly, leaving only a smoking pair of boots behind. The target’s companions were knocked back by the blast, electrical energy playing over them and rooting them where they stood. One fell dead, smoke pouring from his eyes, ears, and mouth. Theryn loosed a second arrow that took another pirate in the throat, killing him instantly. Berrick maneuvered Clockdrive’s Dockside Clockworker into position, aiming his bolt-blaster skyward in an attempt to perforate the drow sniper hiding at the mast-top. The rapid-fire crossbow bolts missed. Berrick swore and stomped around to get a better angle. Yeemik climbed out onto the bowsprit to confront another drow sniper, hefting his axe menacingly. The first pirate rushed up the ladder into the waiting arms of the guardian of faith . The spectral guardian slashed at him. “Ah! A ghost!” he wailed as he stabbed ineffectually with his gaff. Behind him, another pirate took the full force of the guardian’s weapon, his burly battle cry turning into a scream of agony. The two injured pirates stumbled through the ghostly guardian and got onto the deck. The third pirate behind them died as the guardian took his head. A geyser of blood splashed the deck. The guardian swung once more on the fourth man in line, slashing him, before disappearing. The pirates began throwing hammers at the Tide-Runner crew. A hammer conked off Gully Blackwater’s head painfully. “Ow!” the Halfling cursed. Theryn watched the headless body of a pirate tumble back down the stairs into the crew deck, followed by a torrent of blood. His eyes widened. The pirates he’d shot turned about in confusion. “Where did that come from?” one barked. Another pointed in Theryn’s direction. Theryn caught one of the hammers and contemptuously tossed it aside. “Oh, those are some good reflexes!” One of the pirates shouted in awe. Another group of pirates attacked Theryn from behind. A gaff plunged past the monk to embed itself in one of the hammock posts. Theryn spun about and dodged the next attack, but the third spear speared the monk. “Hello there,” Theryn grinned. In the captain’s chambers, Ciamanthe and Ashraen withstood the worst of Varien’s spirit guardians. They smiled as they raised their wicked longswords, their wings beating. Varien parried two of the erinyes’s slashing attacks and popped a shield to avoid her third stab. Ashraen flew in from the side to slash at Varien, but the paladin blocked, parried, and let his shield spell deflect her attacks. “Back, foul devils! You shall not touch me!” Varien shouted. On the bow, Varic called down lightning to kill another group of pirates. Erwen dropped his wildshape and rushed across the deck. He stared down the hatchway in an attempt to determine what was happening below deck. Siegfried heard the sounds of swordplay from within the aftcastle chamber. He commanded his animated objects to rally on him. “Varien, do you need assistance?” He called. “What does that even mean?” Varien shouted back over the sound of swords clanging. “Fair enough!” Siegfried said, moving into the chambers. He took note of the two devilish furies attacking Varien. He slashed at the nearest Erinyes twice with his axe and pivoted to put Varien in an optimal attack position. “No need to crowd him girls, I’ll be your dance partner!” he said to the Erinyes. Varien slashed out with Fiendsbane, stabbing Ashraen and releasing a radiant smite . He then shoved Ciamanthe with his shield, but she stood her ground. Varien cast destructive wave , sending a blast of thunderous energy out from him to blast Ciamanthe and Ashraen. Then he followed up with a slash to Ciamanthe and infused the attack with another radiant smite . Behind him, he was aware of a circular staircase leading downwards, an accordion mesh screen pushed aside as if someone went downstairs without locking up behind them. Varien mock saluted the Erinyes and dashed below. Ciamanthe and Ashraen viciously attacked him as he did so. “I wasn’t asking to tag in, Varien!” Siegfried said as the paladin ran below deck. As the Erinyes turned around to face him, he coughed and called for Erwen. Alec continued to climb the mast. “That’s a whole lot of not surrendering you’re not doing up there, drow!” He shouted. Varien emerged from the circular staircase into a wide room that ran the entire width of the warship. Floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the rear wall of the room, offering a full view of the sea and the ship’s wake. In the middle of that wall was an ornate pipe organ, from which an eerie melody was playing, though there was no one seated at the organ’s bench. In the middle of the room was a long, narrow conference table surrounded by high-backed upholstered chairs atop a rich purple area rug. On the fringed red runner on the tabletop were three candelabras, lit and smoking. Bookshelves lined the northern wall. Standing at the conference table was a devilishly handsome human man wearing a robe of red and black, a spiked mantle covering his shoulders. The man’s ermine-fringed shirt was open nearly to his navel, revealing a well-muscled torso beneath. A broad waist sash adorned with pentagrammic runes was wrapped about his midsection. In his left hand he held an unholy staff topped with a horned-headed dog’s face, its ruby-red eyes twinkling in the candlelight. his eyes flashed with a charismatic gleam as he regarded Varien with a small knowing smile on his face. “Ah, you must be Varien Aether, the Fire in the North,” the man said in a low baritone. With a sweep of an arm, he indicated the table and chairs between them. “Please, take a seat, as we have much to discuss.” “Markosian,” Varien said accusingly. “You’re shorter than I expected.” He raised Fiendsbane and advanced on his target. Markosian cast alter self and grew several inches taller. “Is that more to your liking, Mister Aether?” Varien’s spirit guardians began to spark off Markosian’s mantle as he moved within range. The Devil Behind Thrones frowned mockingly. “Come now, Varien, this is no way to start a conversation.” His wounds from Varien’s spirit guardians immediately closed back up. “I believe you’ll find that I can be most hospitable to uninvited guests, provided they behave themselves.”