-[Act 3 * Part 6]-

Basil stood on the edge of the 9th Hell. Looking down past the harbor wall he saw nothing but the endless red skies of the Astral Sea. The Nine Hells were islands, stacked on top of one another, perpetually suspended in this realm-between-realms. The Astral Sea surrounding it was vast, but far from empty. Many floating islands, archipelagos and even shards of broken worlds permeated this red expanse that connected the known universe. The portion of the Astral Sea that was referred to as Guild space was charted, but an untold number of worlds remained beyond its boundaries, their fates unknown; their exploration forbidden.

Here, at the very edge of the 9th Hell, stood moored the fleet of the famed Sea Dragon, the old and venerable Admiral Razazil. The astral sailing ships under his command were the oldest and most reliable way of traversing the Astral Sea. Other methods, such as the use of gateways and teleportation, had become more readily available with the passage of time, but those carried their own logistical issues. Magic travel incurred a greater cost than sailing, a cost that was measured either in valuable resources or in the essence of someone’s soul.

With the crew still scrambling to reorganize following the battle for the Sea Dragon’s roost, the Admiral took his place at the top of the ramp to welcome his guest.

“Permission to come onboard,” Basil asked.

“Permission granted,” Razazil answered.

The dungeon keeper climbed onboard the ship and the old dragon-kin Admiral greeted the demon prince with a firm handshake.

Basil was followed onboard by his escorts. Schwartz, Scarlet and their minions kept up a stoic appearance in the presence of the pirate crew, but Elnora could barely hide her excitement as she took in the utter scene of carnage that was the Sea Dragon’s roost. The hopeful dungeon keeper welcomed every opportunity she got to study the worldly arts of strategy and combat, so this fresh battlefield made for an excellent tour.

Ivar and his crew remained behind in the plaza to help with the prisoners. With the battle concluded the surviving attackers were disarmed and shackled by steel and spell. They now came into the possession—and questionable mercy—of the old Admiral, who was sure to extract all the value he could from them in recompense for their transgression. And with the harbor damn near burnt to the ground during the attack, there was much to compensate him for.

“As I understand you have little time for idle chatter,” Razazil said. “If you would please follow me, we can proceed to addressing the reason for your visit as soon as I will have tended to my casualties.”

Basil regally nodded and followed Razazil below the deck. He and his escorts were taken to the sick bay where the Admiral’s wounded sailors had been gathered.

They were a mixed bunch, the men and women who served under the Admiral’s banner. Both human and demi-human, the sort of minions that flocked to the life of piracy were generally not a skittish lot. Either out of loyalty, bloodlust or foolhardiness they had not shied away from danger when the rival crews had attacked them, but their headstrong defense had come with a high price.

Tending to the wounded was a motley crew of healers and medicine men. Druids, priests and shamans cast their magic to ease the suffering and mend the flesh of the wounded sailors. Alongside them worked surgeons and nurses with their tools of medicine. They brought together their mastery over magic and anatomy to stabilize the fading souls and bodies of their fellow crew. Healing potions were passed around, curses lifted, poisons neutralized and wounds mended with needle and enchanted thread.

Basil drew Elnora’s attention to the work of the healers and commented on it. “A marvel to behold isn’t it?” he said. “If a minion survives long enough to reach the sick bay, then chances are good that they will make a full recovery.”

The apprentice dungeon keeper closely followed the frantic efforts of the doctors and healers. She did not shy away from the bloody work of these minions.

“On average pirate crews are probably the hardiest mercenaries that you can hire,” Basil continued. “They pick their engagements carefully, but don’t shy away from a challenge if the prize is worth it. Life in the Astral Sea is full of hardship and privations, so they are often proficient survivalists.”

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The old dragon-kin Admiral nodded in agreement with Basil’s appraisal of his crew. “Nothing is wasted,” Razazil said. “The Sea is a harsh mistress. We have learned to harvest anything and everything that we might come across. Even life itself…

“Shall we demonstrate?”

He gestured for his marines to bring forth the prisoners. The Admiral’s guests looked on with great interest as several chain-bound captives were brought before the wounded members of the Sea Dragon’s crew. The sailors lying on the stretchers near the surgery tables were some of the worst off. Covered in burns, torn by magic and cut with saber and shot—the lives of these crewmen were beyond saving by normal means. Yet the healers and surgeons labored on in an effort to stabilize them. An unnatural power would have to be invoked for them to survive, so an unnatural solution was being brought forth…

A fur clad arcane construct entered the scene. Its beady red eyes scanned the hold for any signs of danger to its ward. Holding on to the stone fingers of the grizzly patchwork contraption was a little human girl.

“Come closer, child,” Razazil said and gestured for the timid girl to approach him. “I will need you to use your gift now to help my people.”

The girl shuffled over to Razazil. The arcane construct stuck close to her, never taking its eyes off of the chain-bound captives, as if expecting them to lash out and attack the girl at any moment.

Now that they were standing next to the surgical station, the Admiral’s mages began drawing a circle around the captives with the blood of the wounded sailors. Once the ritual circle was complete the girl closed her eyes and focused her arcane power. She appeared to rise ever so slightly above the ground in a trance like state. She was then ushered towards one of the wounded sailors. As the girl placed one hand over the head of the wounded man the healers picked out one of the captives and presented him to her. She then began to siphon away life essence from the helpless prisoner and into the wounded man lying on the stretcher.

“Is this going to be some sort of a blood sacrifice?” Elnora whispered to Basil.

Basil shook his head in denial. “Blood sacrifices look impressive—heads on spikes and all that good stuff—but they are actually very inefficient,” he said. “No, they are just going to drain a portion of the prisoner’s soul, I believe.”

“You are correct, Lord Doom,” Razazil said as he backed away from the ritual circle. “The girl has a special ability that allows her to permanently weaken a person, all the while passing a portion of that power onto others. Or things,” he added and pointed to the fur covered stone construct, “That creature was a fluffy little teddy bear when I bought the girl down in the slave markets of the 7th Hell—a stuffed toy, if you can believe it. And look at it now...”

The three meter tall teddy bear-of-death gave Elnora a quick glance. The succubus felt shivers run down her spine as the beady red eyes of the monster sized her up to see if she was a threat to the girl.

“Quite the exotic ability to have,” Basil noted. “It must have cost you a fortune.”

“Aye,” Razazil answered, “but it was a necessary expense. She has saved many lives in the short time I’ve had her around. Who knows how many she will save in the future.”

“Yes,” Basil pondered and scratched his chin, “having someone like her should allow your crew to retain more veteran members over time. But I don’t imagine there is a shortage of willing sailors looking to sign on with your crew right now.

“Using this sort of a ritual on common minions seems to be rather wasteful,” he noted. “Surely the lives of your captives are better spent selling them to slave traders or by ransoming them back to their masters. I doubt they will fetch a good price, what with their power all but depleted. Who needs their minions back after they have been permanently weakened?”

“No effort is wasted on saving the lives of my crew,” Razazil said. There was a hint of displeasure in his voice.

“Of course there is merit to such a luxury,” Basil said and gestured at the little girl. “The morale, loyalty and confidence of your sailors has surely been bolstered by her mere existence, but—”

The Admiral’s gaze narrowed, but he kept quiet in the presence of the dungeon keeper.

“You could always simply hire more minions,” Basil continued. “They are dime a dozen these days.”

Elnora noted the cold hard looks the Admiral’s crew was giving them. She certainly felt the sea of unvoiced disagreement washing up against the bulwark of blind pragmatism that was her master, but she was in no position to intervene.

On his part, Razazil knew better than to debate a dungeon keeper over the value of a minion’s life. He understood how little these walking demigods cared for the survival of their servants.

“Well, let’s just agree to disagree,” Razazil said and waved for the party to follow him. “I am now free to discuss my findings with you, Lord Doom. If you would please follow me…”

The Admiral led his guests to his private chambers and ushered Basil inside first. Both Scarlet and Schwartz followed their master, but Elnora was stopped at the door.

“This is a most personal matter,” Razazil said and bowed his head to the succubus. “I would ask that you wait outside, please.”

Elnora obliged his request and watched silently as the door slowly closed before her. The doorframe then flashed blue several times, indicating that some sort of magic had been cast on the doorway, likely to prevent her from overhearing the conversation.