Games We Play

(The following journal is from the viewpoint of Foley, a halfling thief, some years later.)

Knowing how close we were to the main Moonshae islands did not help finding our way off this one. There could have been a grove of druids around the next hill or the whole island could have been on the back of a giant sea turtle who was just taking a ten-year nap. We could have been on the mainland and never known it until we started exploring.

The dwarf Colwyn, Sully and Kumar decided to go searching for other parts of the ship that was our home for so many weeks. What they found was a bit of bench and oar tied to a young human who said his name was NoSmo, a bookish sort from Baldur’s Gate, taken while he was walking to his master’s tower. He was grateful for the rescue though Kumar told him, in charming terms, that he could come along with us or die of starvation. I was getting the idea that Kumar was maybe some leader-in-training from his little desert village.

In all this time, the rain never let up. It went on and on, picking up as we were climbing the small hills that surrounded us. Okay, yes, except on one side where we have the sea. And don’t you bardic wannabes go waxing poetic on the fresh scent of the sea. Against the rocks it smells like dead fish.

So it was rather a relief to get away from the ocean, up into the hills and among some good, honest and above all sturdy scrub and rocks.

After less than an hour of searching, we heard the unmistakable sounds of people in disagreement, the sorts of disagreement where people hit each other with metal. Dane said they were orcish cries. I wouldn’t pass up the chance to watch orcs getting a thrashing, so we went to carefully look into a dry, rocky ravine over the next ridge.

Orcs there were, orcs and humans, brigands all, fighting along one another against an equally mercantile band of goblins. They had the same unshaven and wary look of the pirates who originally captured us. At least a similar breed, all fighting one another. We were quite content to sit and watch.

Off to one side, bound and unconscious, was an old man. The orc and human side was clearly protecting him and, from the way the fight went, he was the prize. I suspect it began with an ambush in the gully and has become a full-out skirmish. In the end, the goblins survived and chittered with pride right up until Dane hit them with a magic spell that put them all to sleep.

There was some useful gear here, bows and halberds and the human leader wore some armor. There was no food, though, so we were only comforted that we could defend ourselves for a while until we starved.

We dispatched all but the old man and one goblin, who spoke a bastard mix of common and orcish tongues and was quite happy to be useful as long as possible. The way the two mixed-bloods in our group, Sully and Kumar, talked about frying him up for food was appalling, even through the hunger and wish to eat anything but gruel. Many of us are civilized creatures and I wanted to get away from the uncivilized ones as quickly as possible. Working together was the only way.

The old man said he was Keysteak, a name that did not help our two day hunger. He was kind, respectful, patient to our thousand questions and crazy as a kobold whore. Though he was a prisoner, and his situation didn’t look like it was getting a whole lot better, even after threatening the goblin with a short existence ending on a spit over a fire. He was the island’s caretaker, there since he was seven and a loyal servant of the Master, the King of the Sea, Viadel. He and his wife settled here in the Mansion not far from the Temple, words he spoke with a reverence and grace.

He did the same with the Treasure, but didn’t want to tell us where it was. The human was simple-minded from years of living alone, though, that we could get him to tell us that the Treasure is buried with the Master and that he, too, would like to be buried with the Master some day. With this, he looked wistfully toward the Mansion. Simple, simple indeed.

We weren’t just sitting in the gully chatting with this addled old man. No, we were walking to the nearby temple, if you call “nearby” several hours in a rocky ravine through the hills in a cold ocean rain. As we walked he talked cheerfully about the pirates.

There were two groups. The orcs and humans working together under an orc pirate named Halek, a name that none of us had heard of, to my relief. The last thing we needed was to be recaptured on the heels of our freedom. A splinter faction of his band of unmerry men, entirely goblins, was lead by Lucius. Remember these names. Yes, you have to.

Yes, you do. And it’s now your turn to get me a smoke, missy. And a pipe. And not one of the shit beggar blends for it, either. And be back by the time I’m done.

So Keysteak lead us to a temple, a large old temple to the Goddess, a local aspect of Chauntea the Harvest Goddess who has complete control over the Moonshae islands. About this time the goblin started screaming and trying harder to escape, eventually gibbering that another goblin tore a painting off a wall and that’s when the storm started.

In a way, this other goblin saved us from slavery. It probably doesn’t matter unless he was trying to do it on purpose, and he was going to die soon anyway.

The temple was probably pretty nice, once, but it was wood and the slats cracked and warped from misuse. The foyer was completely clean and some large leaves were drying on the walls. There weren’t any of those large-leafed trees on the island, so I don’t know where he found them. Maybe the Goddess blew them in just for him.

Well, boy, if Chauntea wants to come down here and tell me not to make fun of her, then she’s welcome to. Do you see her? No? Then let me continue.

Keysteak was still being helpful and drew a map of the island for us using one of these leaves and a stick of charcoal he had hidden on him. Then, and only then, did we untie his hands. Well, yeah, obviously we untied his feet so he could bring us here. He even gave us a roughly drawn map of the Goddess’ temple. He wasn’t upset or angry or anything. I should have been more suspicious about this.

The Mansion, and the Treasure, were not too far on a taller hill. The two pirate groups were using the Mansion as a battleground while they probably looked for the Treasure.

There was more talk about eating the goblin as we started wandering around the temple. The main room was once fairly ornate and well painted, half the room separated by columns and a nice stone statue of the Goddess, though several feet of mud was spattered about the wall. Keysteak said he was busy lately with the warring pirates and all, but would get to cleaning the place later. Occasionally, he told us, floods made it up this high, and it was still raining outside and there is never a bad time looking for a way off a wet and slowly flooding island.

We found the painting our goblin savior pried off the wall that made the storm start, but it needed glue and there wasn’t any. Apparantly, see, glue takes days to make out of goblin.

Oh, thank you lass. Yes, yes that’s a good smoke. Tremblespark blend, tastes like. My compliments to whomever you stole it from.

So, there was even more talk of cooking the goblin when we found the kitchen. We finally, finally decided to ask the old man what he ate when we discovered Sully missing. He was, we quickly found, in the foyer with the old man and a wet and greenish smear on the floor of what had been the goblin.

Everyone else ate goblin, but I ate fried rat and cucumbers that were growing in the temple garden.

The kitchen had one occupant, though. Hiding in the chimney was a gray, skinny human with long, long fingernails and thought us as food. Colwyn panicked a bit and chanted angrily his way, but the man jumped atop him and Colwyn stopped moving. Eventually, the skinny beast was killed and Colwyn started to move again. It was a ghoul, the undead. Keysteak was surprised about it, but since seeing a goblin torn apart in front of him he was getting a little jumpy.

We were quickly outstaying our welcome, and Sully’s half-breed brooding was not helping any. He demanded that we leave, now, not by stealing a pirate ship, which we were going to do, but by finding the Treasure, the burial place of the Master and the Mistress, which included, he said, a boat. The old man absolutely refused until Sully whispered a word to him. We all thought it was a threat, reminding what he did to the goblin, but we were all wrong.

The old man agreed to help and reluctantly drew out a map of the Mansion while Sully refused to tell us how he knew about the boat, or how he knew we had to be off the island by noon tomorrow or everyone, everyone on it would die.

At the time I thought it was just some kind of threat, pounding his orcish chest and gnashing his tusks or whatever. All those years living in a monestary probably made him crazed.

We wanted off the island anyway, and there’s no reason to go against a madman when his goals are similar to yours. He’s more likely to work himself into a frenzy and to be the first target when trouble comes. Sorry, lass, or a madwoman.

We got a little sleep, both Dane and Colwyn happy to rest their magical energies. Again, no one killed me while I slept. Don’t laugh; it’s happened.

The sun was barely up, the gray sky a little lighter but there still was rain and there still was wind. And there was a plan. Keysteak needed to look in on his room near a broken window, far from any of the main building entrances.

The window he led us to was boarded over, but it came out and he went in, chattering quietly about his own cleverness. That is, until he reached his room. The door was kicked in, the place ravaged and torn apart but the thing he was most angered about were three broken flowerpots in the back. These, he said, were his friends.

Now having one madman with you is helpful, but having two is dangerous. They might argue and fight themselves when you least expect it, which is always the way with madmen.

Fortunately, fear of a half-orc was greater than Keysteak’s love of flowers and we moved right along, sneaking around torch-lit corridors, this blood-stained but mostly trash-littered battleground. We made our way to what was once the library without incident. There were no books left, just scraps of covers and bits of pages that weren’t burnt or used for toiletries.

Keysteak climbed one of the shelves and pressed a button on top. We heard the metal grinding against metal and saw the bookshelf shake slightly but it would not budge.

We pulled on it and nudged it and hammered our fists as quietly as we could. I didn’t, of course, because someone had to listen at the door. In the end, a halberd was used to pry the thing off its hinges and it fell to the ground with a sound loud enough to wake the mansion’s Master. It was certainly enough to alert some dim-witted orcs.

We pulled another shelf down and jammed it in front of the door, fleeing down the ladder into the basement. Kumar stayed up top and jammed his sword through a hole in the door, through the eye and skull of someone looking in. So when you look into a hole, be careful.

The basement was dank and ugly but there was a light glow on the walls, a kind of mold maybe that eats darkness and gives off light. It was handy for us to see all the boxes piled up, but Keysteak stayed back near the ladder, pulling a lever that collapsed the walls of the library above us. We bought ourselves some time.

But the old man wouldn’t come with us, claiming he had to rest. Kumar didn’t believe him and I went to investigate some of the crates. I don’t know what the old man did, but I passed out. When I came to, he was dead and I was one large bruise. You’ll get used to feeling like a living bruise, as long as you’re living.

With our host thankfully dead, we all decided to get the information out of Sully once and for all. What did he say to compell the old man into helping us this far? What was going on? Reluctantly, and growling and threatening, he revealed all, or at least enough.

He said the Goddess spoke to him in her temple, warning him that she was upset about the pirates and was going to sink the island. He was upset about this, because he came from a monestary of moral folk and never wanted to deal with gods again. Having Chauntea pick on him snapped his tiny orcish brain, but she gave him enough information to get us out of here; the Master’s son, who was buried with a boat. Because Keysteak didn’t tell us about him, this made Sully’s usual threats carry a ring of truth from the old man’s goddess.

Sully tore apart the goblin out of frustration. After all, he said, the goblin was going to die anyway. That made sense, but he should have told us.

From here on out, his map of the basement was wrong. The pit trap dropped the entire floor away, and hitting the ledge on the way down with the rest of the floor knocked me out, again. I had to be brought to by healing magic before we moved on. Healing magic is refreshing as a great wine, as you all will, no doubt, find out.

We passed the trap along a ledge and went into a door with an empty stone mausoleum in the middle. Occasional trips past the hole to the waters below kept tabs on the pirates’ progress. They probably wanted the old man and probably didn’t know he was dead. Poor saps.

We eventually found the hidden door in the back of one of the storage holes. All the boxes were empty or filled with dirt and rocks; it was all an intricate diversion but it doesn’t stand up to seven greedy people looking for escape.

The corridor went a few hundred feet in complete darkness, the moss left behind, but with so many of the tall races can see in darkness or easily fake it. There’s a feeling you get when you enter a large space and I had that feeling now, we all fumbled around the place a bit to find out the large cavern had a wall of mortered brick cutting off one wall. The others said there were two slabs of stone, each with someone on it.

The first one had to be the Master of the Sea, the plaque apparantly reading, “Viadel, the Sea King. Tamed by the islamd, laid low by pirates.”

Beside him was the Mistress, her own plaque read, “Queen Liella, laid low by pirates, rests with her sea king”. Keysteak must have been a busy guy learning all these burial rites and carving and everything. The Queen didn’t have any such weapons or finery, just an old and tattered dress. It didn’t surprise any of us that they were starting to get up. I and NoSmo were concerned because we couldn’t see a thing and I could hear the orcs shouting near the other end of the long, long corridor.

At one point when the rest were combatting the undead pair, there was a brilliant flash of light and we could, briefly, see the room then it went dark again. NoSmo started attacking the brick wall with his bit of oar he’d been using as a club and I got ready for the pirates to come down the hall, hiding just inside the cavern so I could slip on out. Remember, survival first, alliances second.

But somehow the others ended the threat of the Master and her Mistress before the pirates found the door down the hall. No doubt they found the bloodied body of Keysteak. They probably wanted to talk to the people for killing the one guy who knew where the treasure was, not knowing they were not far from it.

Down came the brick wall when the pirates found the hidden door and started charging down the corridor. NoSmo and I were guided to the boat on the far side of the wall while the others gathered the Master’s finer items. We were all dumped into a boat and the dead body, Viadel’s son, was removed from it. Torchlight bounced down the hallway and we still didn’t know how to get out.

There was a lever. We could either pull it and risk a trap or explain things to angry brigands, so the lever was pulled. The other brick walls of the boy’s tomb collapsed and we saw sunlight, actual, real sunlight through rain and mist. I also got to see the small box of gold we were sitting on in the boat, as well as, yes, six oars.

Arrows whipped past us as everyone pushed the burial boat toward the water. If this was the boat the Goddess promised Sully, we all hoped she knew what state it was in. It floated well and we rowed away from the pirates, alive and well and with the treasure.

Now, you think it’d end there, but the Goddess wasn’t done yet. We didn’t get too far from the island when the storm closed in from each direction, passing quickly overhead as though it didn’t care about us. We got plenty wet, but we didn’t get the brunt of the wind which practically attacked the island. We rowed harder and faster, occasionally looking over our shoulders or listening to Melisana’s description of the fury of the Goddess upon the pirates who desecrated Her island.

Gods and Goddesses might be annoying, but they’re damned powerful in their specialty.

Now, I haven’t been talking about Melisana because she hadn’t done anything useful but state how disgusting eating goblin was. We didn’t dump her on the way; we aren’t monsters. Well, most of us aren’t.

Funnel clouds attacked the island, lightning ripped at it and set brush on fire even in the devilish wind and rain, and the waves that hit the shores hit higher and stronger.

Then the island was gone and the clouds melted away into nothingness. We were thrown around by the largest wave I have ever seen, a wave that could swallow a fleet of merchant ships, but somehow, somehow we made it over top without losing anyone. We almost lost Dane but I was too busy rowing to give him the push he needed.

Then it was over. We were left, alone, in the middle of the ocean with no water, no food, but a healthy take of treasure.

Now go, shoo, leave me alone. If you kids want to know what happened next, you know what the fee is. Go and steal me something nice and I’ll talk with you again in a few days.