I
Bahn Belldom sighed after downing his seventh stein of ale. Setting his empty glass onto the bar, he felt a numbing feeling flowing through his head. He slowly looked to his left, attempting to adjust his vision, which at the moment was making everything around the pub appear blurry and at an odd angle.
"I'm done for the evening," Bahn whispered, running his hands through his dark brown hair.
"Oh come on lad," said a gruff voice from behind him. "You've only had a dwarfling's serving of spirits this evening. You're as bad as the wizard over there."
Bahn turned his head back, seeing the black bearded dwarf named Sorbek Ironkegar, holding a stein in each hand. Like all members of his stout race, Sorbek had a strong resistance to alcohol.
Taking a long swig from the glass in his left hand, the dwarf pointed over to a small booth in the corner where a burly ork in dark blue robes appeared to be passed out. In front of the orc was a half-empty glass of thick Red-well wine.
"A disgrace to drinkers everywhere," the dwarf declared in a slurred speech. "I'm going outside.” Bahn slowly rose from his seat, taking small steps as the room began to spin.
After avoiding any collision with the other patrons, Bahn reached the table and unceremoniously dropped into the seat next to his friend. Bahn gently shook the wizard. "Surloc...Surloc...are you all right?"
"As okay as a disgrace can be," Surloc Firefingers mumbled as his yellow cat-like eyes looked up at his friend.
Bahn shook his head and gently patted Surloc on the back. "Don't...don't you listen to So..Sorbek. You know how dwarves are about owl...I mean alcohol...th...that looks delicious."
Smiling at his friend's words, Surloc's droopy eyes shifted to his drink. "It is all right...very, smooth...the barkeep says that...a quarter of a glass can...can knock out most humans for hours."
"Really?" said the human with a half-smile. "Well we will have to...just see...see about that." Bahn reached out for the glass, but quickly drew back when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
Bahn and Surloc turned to face the stranger, a tall slender gentleman with light gray hair that was just above his slightly slanted ears. He wore a dark leather vest over a white silk shirt.
"I suppose you can," answered the stranger with a sly smile. "You two look like a couple of strong able lads who could assist me in a task."
Bahn jumped at the sound of his friend’s head hitting the table. Regaining his composure, he said to the stranger. "My name is Bahn...so...so what is this task...and who are you for that mat...matter?"
The man leaned back as the strong stench of alcohol from the warrior's breath brushed past his nose. "I am Broose Sandrellus, a bard. A historian of sorts. I am planning to visit an old acquaintance at the docks this evening and I might need someone to accompany me and carry the treasures I am acquiring."
Bahn squinted while his ears perked up at the bard’s words. "I suppose I could help...what...what about you Surloc?...Surloc?"
Bahn and Broose looked at the orc, who immediately responded with a thumbs up. "We have to get my staff...your sword....your armor back from the inn down the street."
Broose looked at his two new friends with a wide smile. "Well then Bahn and Surloc, let us get your gear, and then we will be on our way."
Just as Broose stood up, the wizard's hand grabbed Bahn. "Wait...what, what about that rat of a dwarf? Are we going...to leave him here?"
Bahn nodded. "Good point. Broose, we also have our friend here..”
The bard shrugged his shoulders and said,” My rule is that if opportunity knocks and you aren’t there, it is your loss.”
The two friends exchanged looks, then mimicked the bard’s shoulder shrug. Bahn whispered, “So where are we going?”
II
They quietly entered the docks under the cover of darkness. Broose scanned the area, immediately finding the Wenchius LaCran. It was a vast ship with tattered and torn sails, and a wooden exterior that was suffering from decay and attacks from cannons and other instruments of war. The figurehead at the front resembled that of a one-armed mermaid.
"Bahn, Surloc. I present to you Wenchius LaCran," Broose said in a quiet voice. "Named after the captain himself, the arrogant bastard."
"Captain LaCran...that sounds like a story Archmage Magio once told me," Surloc spoke in a muffled voice as he pushed back the drunkenness to remember his mentor's tale. Many years ago, LaCran’s crew mutinied against him. The leader of the mutiny was a wizard, who transformed LaCran, but also the few men who were still loyal to him into ghouls or zombies."
Bahn shook his head in disbelief. "Interesting, though I doubt this captain travels in this ship, from port to port." When he was done speaking, Bahn noticed the determined look on the bard's face.
"I hate to break this to you friend, but the story is true," Broose said in a cool voice. Drawing his sword from his belt, the bard stared at young man. "LaCran goes around in his ship, a dead ship full of what believes is his treasure. His greed was why most of his crew rebelled against him. Because LaCran thought believed that only he should keep his treasure. He got his wish, to some extent.
Bahn drew his own sword. "How do you know the captain?”
Broose looked at him and smiled. "I know him because I was one of those crew who sided with that wizard. Pirating was something I did in my younger days.”
Bahn was about to comment the bard's words, when a fierce gust of wind whipped past his face, causing him to almost fall over. Surloc closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on a spell. Broose turned his attention forward, waiting patiently.
"Foolish adventurers," echoed a hollow voice. 'You board my ship to take my treasure. Like all of your predecessors, you will be tested, and most likely you will fail."
Captain Wenchius LaCran, materialized in front of the bard. Tall in stature, the captain wore faded silks. Dry strips of skin hung from his bones while small sprangs of hair dangled from his exposed scalp. The captain's empty sockets focused in the bard's direction. His hand extended forward, and from the bones spring a slender black bladed rapier.
"That is a nice sword," Bahn heard Broose say as he and the captain began circling one another. He was about to aid the bard, when he felt a surge of throbbing pain go through his skull. Whether this was an ability LaCran possessed, or the early stages of the hangover he so righteously deserved, Bahn ran back to Surloc. "Do...do you think we should help him?"
Surloc, who had been suppressing the urge to expel his insides, looked past Bahn and noticed six walking skeletons, all dressed in similar attire as the captain. "This must be LaCran's loyal crew," he guessed.
After channeling some of his energy, Surloc made a sweeping motion with his arms, unleashing what he thought would be a group of small fire balls, but actually turned into a massive wave of shimmering flames that quickly engulfed the skeleton crew.
Moments after casting his spell, Surloc slumped to the groan, shivering from the freezing pain that began flooding his body and insides. Bahn looked down at his friend with concern. He remembered how a spell caster's body can be affected by what elemental spells they cast. He then set his sights forward, seeing two charred skeletons walking towards him.
Suppressing the pain, Bahn darted forward and drove his right shoulder into the ribcage of the first skeleton, then quickly brought down the pommel of his weapon into the same spot, breaking the whole ribcage.
As the first skeleton toppled over, the young man charged the other skeleton, carelessly ramming the top part of his head through his foe's chest cavity, causing the skeleton's upper body to shatter like a clay pot.
Bahn felt the pain in his head manifest greatly from one side to the other. He stumbled over to the ork, who was starting to get back to his feet.
Together, they looked over to where Broose was still fighting Captain LaCran.
Unaware that he had an audience, Broose parried LaCran’s next two attacks. As LaCran went for a low thrust, Broose stepped left and tapped the hilt of his sword against the captain's head, then followed through with a back handed slash that went across LaCran's face.
LaCran stepped back and wiped his bony hand across the cut.. You were stupid to return here traitor." He flicked the rapier's sharp end at the bard's face, but Broose countered it by slapping the black blade with his the smooth edge of his sword.
Grinning, the undead captain closed his eyes and began a low sounding chant. As LaCran's voice flowed through out the deck, large wooden pieces ripped themselves out of the ship's mast and flew at the bard with incredible speed.
Six feet away Surloc raised a shaking arm towards Broose. "I'll burn that wood away with some fire darts." Bahn quickly put his hand on his friend's arm, but the large flame had already launched itself from the orc's arm.
Both Surloc and Bahn waited for the flames to devour the bard. To their relief, much the fire and wood pieces deflected off of Broose, who was now beginning to sing a song of his own.
"What in the hell is he doing?" asked a confused, Bahn. He noticed the wood LaCran had enchanted to attack the bard, was now being combined to form what he guessed was a very long spear. The fire thrown by the wizard also came together to form the tip of the spear.
Surloc leaned towards Bahn, his teeth chattering. "I remember reading that bards can be very powerful when they are singing, storytelling, or playing instruments. It looks like he has learned tto manipulate mundane objects elements with his singing. Rather interesting...if I do say so."
Broose continued to sing until the spear drove itself through the captain's stomach. The flames that made up the spear's tip were now consuming La Chan's body.
The bard looked up as the corpse of Captain Wenchius LaCran was burning to ashes. Closing his eyes, Broose began singing another song. With a wave of his left hand, the burning corpse was thrown into the air and tossed overboard, into the cold sea below.
Laughing to himself, the bard looked over at his companions. Surloc appeared to be vomiting into the water while Bahn was now cradling his head in his hands, muttering to himself to never again head butt a skeleton.
Grinning, the bard slipped away and went to look for the treasure.
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