The battle continued on the forecastle and quarterdeck of the St. Asmod’s Hope , as more and more Tide-Runner crew members swung across between the two ships to join their compatriots, and met a dwindling skirmish line of desperate pirates intent on regaining the initiative and repelling the boarders. On the foredeck, it was as though a veritable geyser of gore had sprayed out over the wooden planking. as Alec continued to climb towards the crow’s nest on the foremast top with his mercurial greatsword clenched resolutely in his teeth, intent on stopping a drow sniper from wreaking havoc. There were explosive reports from up in the rigging as other drow snipers rained musket balls down on the attackers. Above the din were the throaty exhortations of Captain Ironclaw, who gleefully sent her crew into the fray led by Loud Laurel, Gully Blackwater, Herc McGurk and the indomitable Quartermaster Berrick inside his dockside clockworker construct. Bob looked around and calculated his next steps carefully. He took note of the phalanx of hovering mangonel balls flying across the deck towards the aftcastle. In the opposite direction he could see Yeemik carefully making his way towards the bowsprit-top, where a drow had taken up a firing position. Bob cast a mass healing word on his allies and made his way towards the aftcastle, where he could hear Siegfried shouting. As Varien rushed towards Markosian, there was a blink as the Devil Behind Thrones teleported out of the reach of his spirit guardians , appearing on the far side of the chamber. “Come now Varien, let us lay aside our weapons for the moment and have a conversation. I wish to know what you’re doing here. Who sent you, hmm? Certainly, this is not merely a random encounter on the high seas.” “What does it look like I’m doing?” Varien said. “I’m here to chop your head off.” Markosian smiled with a look of infinite patience on his face. “Of course, we will get to the bottom of this.” Atop the mizzenmast, the polymorphed liondrake began to carefully make its way down the mast, digging its claws into the wood with each considered step. Markosian stretched out a hand and began to make a petting motion at a spot about four feet above the deck. There was the smell of brimstone as a hound-like creature phased into view, with Markosian now giving it a gentle scritch behind the ears. The coal-black fur on the creature’s hackles raised as it fixed Varien with a baleful look with its red eyes and growled. “Sparky,” Markosian purred to his pet. “Be a good boy, won’t you?” The hound exhaled a sulphurous cloud of breath that wreathed its canine head as it paced just outside of Varien’s protective aura. It opened its mouth unnaturally wide, cinders and smoke belching from the spaces in between sharp teeth like daggers of melting steel. Markosian crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “I am curious to know how you defeated my pickets.” “Your what?” Varien growled. “Again, surely you did not spring into existence out of whole cloth in the middle of the ocean,” Markosian prompted. “I think you’ll soon learn I have a very particular set of skills,” Varien replied. “My desire is absolute, and nothing and nobody shall get in my way.” “Ah,” Markosian said. “You say that, but all desires can be fulfilled in ways that you might not initially find suitable.” He shrugged. “But this is indeed why I would like to talk. I don’t think the Order of the Aster put you up to this. You’re far too competent.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it was Arkan of the Nine Revelations? Or was it Kholzourl the Fire-Speaker? It couldn’t have been one of the Hierarchs, could it?” He mused. “No, they would never move against me in this fashion. I wonder if it was that simpering Vell?” Varien fought to keep a straight face. “What’s your game here, Markosian?” Markosian gazed into Varien’s eyes and his lips curled into a sneer. “Aha, now the plot begins to reveal itself. My game, Varien Aether, is the game that we all play.” “I’m not here to play games,” Varien declared. “Oh, but I think you are,” Markosian replied. “Whatever quest, whatever mission, whatever impulse drove you here, I believe I can make you a better offer. Because the game here, Varien Aether, is power. Power and control, and, if one is fortunate, leverage.” “All you fiends are the same,” Varien said, shaking his head. “You see me coming, and you beg for your lives in an attempt to turn me away.” “Fiend?” Markosian replied theatrically. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or complimented.” “You know what I said,” Varien growled. “Oh, Varien,” Markosian chuckled. “Your reputation precedes you.” His eyes narrowed. “As does the reputation of that pathetic piece of pig iron you brandish in your hand.” Fiendsbane rattled. “Fiendsbane, is it?” Markosian said. “Shouldn’t you be stabbing the guts of some cowardly cambion or a streetwalking succubus about now?” Fiendsbane began to cast holy weapon , igniting with radiant energy along its blade. “Struck a nerve, have I?” Markosian chuckled. “You know, Varien, Fiendsbane would be better put to use pointed elsewhere, believe you me.” Theryn found himself surrounded by pirates brandishing harpoons and hammers. He smiled at his opponents and raised his hands, releasing a cloud of poisonous gas from Mr. Milltal’s Ethereal Venomizer . The poison sprayed from the wrist-mounted nozzles and engulfed the pirates. One of them choked and stiffened, teetering on suddenly nerveless legs, and fell sideways, immobilized by the gas. His compatriots coughed and gagged, trying to wave away the green fog. Theryn charged up his stormbow , drawing crackling bolts of lightning energy through the deck, feeding off Varic’s storm sorcery. He then bolted forwards towards the ship’s stern, putting distance between himself and the pirates. His way was blocked by a large set of double doors. There were hatch ladders up and down on either side. Theryn turned about and waited for a clear shot. Above deck, Berrick fired his repeating crossbow at one of the drow snipers, striking his quarry. “My aim is true! I claim your loot in the name of House Thann!” Yeemik swung his hellthorn axe at the drow sniper, striking the dark elf three times with body blows. The drow turned his musket about and struck the Tiefling with the butt of his gun. The drow sniper above Alec aimed and fired. The projectile struck the barbarian, piercing his skin and sending poison sizzling through his bloodstream. Another sniper fired a shot at Bob, but the shot went wide. There was a wet, thudding sound as the stray round struck Chauncy the Chull’s severed head, sending it spinning. Ciamanthe and Ashraen looked at Siegfried with hungry eyes. “Ah, a new toy to play with!” Ciamanthe tittered coyly. With a flap of their wings, they descended on Siegfried, who called upon every lesson he’d learned in bardic college to parry and deflect the blows of their wicked longswords with his shield and axe. Sparks flew as Ciamanthe’s black-bladed sword clanged off Siegfried’s shield, but the force of the erinyes’ attack put the half-orc ever so slightly off-balance for a split-second. A split-second was all the hellmaiden needed. She ran Siegfried through along the length of her sword. Siegfried screamed in agony and shuddered as the weapon slashed through him, and felt the hot fire of poison in his guts. He lost concentration and instantly his knives and mangonel balls fell to the ground, inert. Outside, Bob saw the mangonel balls roll down the deck in all directions. Ciamanthe struck at Siegfried again, but he managed to cast shield , blocking her final attack. Still impaled on Ciamanthe’s blade, Siegfried felt a woman’s lips at his ear, her hot breath searing his neck. “My turn, sweetie,” Ashraen purred. The second Erinyes slashed at Siegfried mercilessly, only one of her three swings getting through his magical defences. Siegfried sagged back, bleeding profusely. Varic called down another round of lightning that blasted a drow sniper in the crow’s nest. Erwen heard Siegfried’s pained shout and moved towards the aftcastle, looking into the chamber at the unfolding melee. “Siegfried! That looks like a tight situation!” Erwen said as he cast animal shapes on the half-orc, turning him into an elephant. Siegfried’s form blurred into a grey mass of elephantine flesh, pushing the surprised Erinyes warriors further back into the room. Ciamanthe was nearly pinned against the chamber’s wall. The deck beneath the elephant groaned. Erwen cast alter self and grew a trunk of his own. “Siegfried!” he trumpeted. “Block the door!” Markosian and Varien both looked upward at the creaking sound from above. “Is that…no…” Markosian muttered, shaking his head. “Your twins upstairs are not going to fare well,” Varien said. On the mizzen-mast, the cat’s meow turned into a horrible, ferocious bellow as Erwen’s polymorph spell dissipated, letting the liondrake turn into its natural form. The dragonne’s bellow was met by a muffled elephant’s trumpet from below deck.