Twelve weeks passed like a blink of an eye, and we found ourselves restless and surrounded by fog. Brindle had located the Line of Sorrow a few weeks back, and we were riding along the edge of the Ennothian and the South sea. Isolation’s chill had come and now the waters below would spell disaster for any who fell overboard. We passed the time playing cards and I entertained the crew with my jovial signing and the odd stories I acquired from my younger years. I came to know the mercenaries a little better, and now it was clear that they were the ones to blame for the commotion back in town. They didn’t tell me the entire picture, but I was able to piece together the general story.

Evidently our half-elven treasure hunter, Solona, decided to rob the library of some ancient magical items that were stored on the upper hall only available to a licensed Arcanist. That explained the commotion with the guard, but that wasn’t the reason they burst onto the ship and demanded we left, no. They said a rival group of mercenaries had it out for them and they believed we would be sailing into a trap if we had left in the morning.

The man Brindle mentioned on the ship before we sailed, this half elf Rueon, was apparently in league with the Tolgar One-Tusk and they believed their old captain was killed by Rueon and the pirate so they could make their escape while also making the party look bad. Brindle didn’t like the sound of all that and kept his crew on edge. “Better to have more eyes on lookout, even if we can hardly see,” he said. We sailed on through the fog for several days with nothing of note happening until one evening after the captain had gone to bed and I found myself composing a bit of free verse poetry.

Such Fog and mist

Oh shroud and Shadow

How I’ve longed for this

The heart of the Salt Sparrow

But my composing was put to an end when a circle of sea dwarfs erupted into cheers. I investigated and found the mercenaries there as well, all of us unsure what to do. The crew were all sea dwarfs so everyone but Alrick could see into the circle. Two dwarfs were locked into a wrestling match for a moment. The crowd threw their arms up and all howled like mad dogs starved for entertainment.

“You bastard!” Cried one of the dwarfs before he kicked the other one away. I recognized the fallen dwarf to be the only doctor on the ship. Just as I realized who the dwarf was, I saw a quick glint of steel appear in the other dwarf's hand.

“Stop him!” I yelled as I pushed through the surrounding rabble of dwarfs, but I was far too slow. The wind picked up like a terrible gale and now standing between the two dwarfs was none other than the ever quiet and mysterious Bataar. The dwarf, though confused, was filled with a madman's might and his eyes were as full of rage as the Remnant Frantic himself! He charged Bataar but was brought down with one fell swoop of Bataar’s leg. The dwarf fell like a mighty tree, albeit a small tree, being chopped by a master. The crowd hushed as a whip cracked and cut through the cold thick air.

“That's enough you damn dirty Sea Dogs!” Brindle roared like an iron canon primed with Xhroma. The Dwarfs all fell in line and the two dwarfs were seized and thrown at the captains feet. “Gentleman,” began the captain, his whip loosely dragged behind him like a tail befitting a devil. “You know I run a tight ship,” he said as he paced before them. “There ain’t any room for infighting,” he added before turning towards them and looking them both over with his cruel gaze. “Now, I’ll be plain. What exactly are you two fighting for?”

“Ever since he took my fingers I’ve been in so much bleeding pain. I told him I needed stronger stuff, but the bastard refused.” The Dwarf grinded his teeth and his eyes reflected no easy suffering.

“And like I told ‘em,” chimed in the Doctor. “We gotta save the stronger stuff for when it really counts.” The doctor folded his arms in on himself and stood proud. A quick crack of the whip echoed out but no one was hurt. The captain chose mercy.

“I’ll forgive this transgression if you be carrying on with the pain. I can’t be having you hurt the Doctor and I don’t want to be running low on any of the good stuff when the going gets tough.” Brindle’s eye turned from man to man as he spoke. He finally stopped and pulled out a small flask. “But I can be giving you some of my private store of rum,” the captain laughed and handed it over to the Dwarf with missing fingers.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” The two Dwarfs responded like hounds asked to speak. The Dwarf took a swig and the tide had been stemmed. All seemed well in that thick blanket of fog, but not for long. Drums began to beat off in the distance and torch light like a great and all seeing eye shone through the mist. The vague shape of the front of a ship cut through the fog and charged straight for us. The crew and captain all stood as still as stone for a moment, then with a crack of his whip, he called for everyone to man their stations.

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“We got a battle!” The Captain screamed and cracked his whip again. “Get on those cannons and get them loaded! Every dwarf grab a gun and give her hell!” The ship was moving fast and heading right for our port side. “Master Gnome! Slow them!” Cried the captain.

Alrick ran to the railing of the ship and threw up his little arms. A sudden gust of wind flew past us all and directly into the enemy's sails. Their speed halved right before they careened into our port side. Our ship shook and everyone grabbed a hold of whatever they could to keep their balance. The front of the enemy ship was raised up and could see cleanly over our railing. It was then that I noticed the front of the ship had a large iron statue of a one eyed boar jutting out of it, worse yet it wasn't a statue but a cannon.

“Take cover!* Brindle shouted and we all hit the deck. The cannon roared and wood from our main mast shot out in every direction. Luckily I had dove behind a barrel and was able to jump to my feet and play a crazed tune on my lute. The sea dwarfs joined me and all started to sing a dark and foreboding shanty.

“Leave no survivors!” shouted a rough looking Deshok from the enemy ship. He was huge and clearly the captain. He had two large tusks and snot dripped from his pig like snout. Boards slammed down and we now faced 15 armed pirates, most of which were either Half-Deshok or full. They spoke in deep husky voices and all laughed when they looked at our paltry crew. The dwarfs took the brunt of the blast and many of them were wounded, as for the mercenaries, they were all as quick as me. Solana darted up the mast, Amara and Alrick hid behind a few crates, Silaraeon and Sorin conjured a barrier to protect them, as for Bataar, well he just dodged.

The Deshok charged the boards and the two groups went at it like bears. Screams and smoke filled the bow of the ship as the clatter of blades sparked within the mist like lightning. I was a man possessed aboard that Frantic ship. I played wildly, jumped around, and even kicked a half-shok off the side and into the frozen waters. Our enemy was fierce, however they were no match for the mercenaries we had hired.

Bataar nimbly dodged every attack thrown his way all while striking down all that crossed his path with only his fists and feet. Alrick focused on keeping our main mast from breaking while Amara protected his flank and brought the beastly men to their knees with her cruel powers. Sorin scorched several with his magic and Solana darted around stabbing people in the back. Silareaon conjured a gleaming blade and despite his wizardly appearance, he hacked and cut through the frey, disappearing into mist and reappearing anytime he was nearly struck. Before we knew it all the Deshok were dead and their bodies were cast into the icy waters below.

“That was easier than expected,” I said as the last of the Deshok was thrown overboard.

“Consider us lucky,” Brindle said. He was drenched in sweat and searching for his flask when he finally realized he had given it away before the fighting had stared. “Well if that isn’t a damn shame,” he spit and wiped his brow.

“It is,” I told him, though sensing his frustrations I thought I could remedy it. “You know, I do have some fine Zenidition wine saved in my pack if you are interested in having a drink.” He was all too eager to agree.

“You got yourself a deal,” he told me. “Listen up lads!” he shouted. “Ransack everything you can from that ship and set a torch to it. I want to see that ship disappear into the mist before we see it sink, do you think you can help us with that master Gnome?” Alrick nodded.

“You can count on me!” Alrick was excited to use his powers though I suspect it was somewhat like child’s play for him. He, like the other mercenaries, was an oddball so to speak. He had strange Arcane powers and seemed to be able to mend the world around him in ways I had never seen before. Despite his otherworld gifts, he was pleasant, though he had a nasally voice that sometimes would get louder the more excited he was.

The mercenaries went over to the other ship as well and found a peculiar letter that seemed to implicate a deal with One-Tusk Togar.

We know they will be sailing along the South sea. Find their ship. It’s a large dwarven vessel known as the Treachery. The crew is just run of the mill, but they paid for protection. Lots of Arcane aboard. Bring me the son of the King, kill the rest of the crew. The Cyclops demands it.

* One-Tusk Tolgar

“So they are after me,” I said after reading it.

“And they know the name of my ship,” Brindle added. “I guess you really are the son of the Pirate King, eh? I’ll be honest, when you said your last name was Auslandin I figured you were just another fake.”

He was right to be cautious of the authenticity of my lineage. After all the last name Auslandin is given to every gutter born piece of trash whose mommy doesn’t know where daddy ran off to. I, however, was not so unlucky. I was born in a village along the Aredas Coastline. My parents were two Aredesans who grew up in the same village, my mother grew a variety of vegetables and my father was a sailor who inherited his ship from his father before him. Everything was peachy until I was 3 or 4 and my father’s ship sank. My mother was devastated. It wasn’t long after she fell victim to an illness and passed away. Despite having lost both parents I had inherited a small bit of wealth that allowed me to leave that village and seek out an education in Zenidar. I had lived there for many years before seeking out a more adventurous life in Alger. That's when I learned my father, who I believed was dead, was not only not dead, but he was known as the Pirate King and had ransacked the city Denmor. Soon after several “Auslandin” started to crop up and my legitimacy was thrown into question.