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The new day was hazy yet curiously bright, the sun not visible in a sky that seemed to glow of its own accord, one shade from horizon to distant horizon. The cramped cabin which seemed to some combination of crew quarters and brig had only a single tiny porthole, but it was enough to make the two male occupants squint and wince away, still recovering from the unholy mixture of grog and opium they’d swallowed the night before. Feruzi planted her back to the wall and eyed the other female, a tiny creature, although still armed and lacking a signature headache.

The door flew open and the horrible yellow-toothed, emaciated Master Scourge stomped in, his face twisted in a grimace that on second viewing turned out to be a shark smile. He spoke in sickly-sweet tones, belied by the six pirates with various bludgeons arrayed behind him. “Did ye lovely princesses enjoy yer beauty rest, then? The sun be over the yardarm, and it be time to report to the captain!” The smile fell away. “On yer feet, filthy swabs, before Cap’n Harrigan flays yer into sausages and has Fishguts fry yer up for breakfast!”

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Ezikial looked up at the fat man blocking his path. “Well,” he drawled. “I think—” the fat pirate staggered backwards clutching his groin from Ezikial’s well-placed kick. He pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and shoved it into the man’s face. “Back off and leave me alone.” He was dimly aware of Reiko and Feruzi moving behind him, the Tian slinking back into the shadows while the Mwangi huntress stepped up to prevent the other pirates from surrounding him.

The fat man panted hard for a few seconds. “You won’t get away with kicking Fipps Chumlett!” he growled, yanking a dagger out of his belt and shoving Ezikial’s gun aside.

“No!” the big-eared woman standing beside him hissed. “I ain’t gonna get keel-hauled!”

“Most wise,” Feruzi commented as Ezikial danced backward, taking a messy but not dangerous cut along the outside of his thigh. The other pirates waded in, swinging fists and weighted bits of rope. Chopper punched one in the jaw, dodging a reciprocal kick. Feruzi’s hand shot out with snake speed, striking the rigger woman in the abdomen and doubling her up. The Mwangi’s foot then soared skyward and came down solidly on the rigger’s forehead, staggering her and putting her out of the fight.

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“What are you waiting for?” Mr. Plugg growled. “There’s something in the bilges that bit Mr. Scrimshaw. Get in there and don’t bother coming out until whatever’s down there is dead.”

Feruzi frowned slightly. “If we go down there, does that mean we have to be dead before we can come up?”

Plugg attempted a withering stare, but Feruzi didn’t seem inclined to wilt. “We’ll just have to see.”

“I see that irony is not a big thing around here,” Feruzi remarked as they headed belowdecks.

“I doubt they understand it,” Ezikial replied in an equally offhand tone.

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Morning came, but with it no dawn, only pewter sky, silver rain, and leaden sea that rolled all around the Wormwood, the great heavy waves jostling her like an indifferent crowd, threatening to knock her down and trample her should she falter. The crew hunched together on her deck, already wet and shivering, clutching the rations that must sustain them through the grinding effort to come. Behind them were calmer waters, but ahead the clouds mounted the sky seemingly without end, an uncharted range they must now endeavor to scale.

Feruzi looked up into the rigging, trying to quell her impulse to shrink from the water and the chill, knowing there was no use and it would only exhaust her. “There is always a storm sooner or later,” she remarked, sententious in her philosophy.

“That’s nature for you,” Reiko agreed, unruffled in hers.

Mr. Plugg, wet as the rest of the crew but somehow looking less sloppy, dispensed assignments with a few curt gestures. Chopper found himself straining at one of the mainsail’s halyards. Ezikial was banished to the sloshing bilges, Feruzi patching and repairing the tarry caulking nearby. Reiko had little to do – the galley was all-but-unusable while the ship wallowed before the wind, the fires damped, the cutlery stashed and secured. Even the animals were still and nearly silent, anxious but not terrified.

“May as well sit down an’ take yer ease while ye can, lass,” Fishguts said, gesturing with his tin cup. “’Tis likely will only get worse.”

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The bizarre lobster-eel creatures launched themselves through the water, claws extended. Feruzi pushed herself off the stony reef to get away and promptly went under, while the other tangled itself in Sandara’s long hair, fouling her with slime. Chopper pulled an axe from his belt and awkwardly hacked at chitin, but the force of the blow was largely blunted by the seawater. Ezikial had more luck stabbing the other with a dagger; a dark, inky-looking substance that might be blood began to leak into the water. With surprising flexibility, the creature reversed itself and latched on, the oversized claws removing chunks of Ezikial’s flesh.

Feruzi landed a hard jab on the other creature’s softer portions, but it clutched her arm, biting and snapping. Now that it was anchored, Chopper was able to open a wide split in its back, but it still didn’t let go. Feruzi ducked as Reiko’s sword whistled past, narrowly missing her and the beast. Ezikial managed to get his blade in between the claws and mandibles, wrecking the eyes and brain. It should have died, but instead went into violent spasms, nearly taking out one of his eyes and scoring a deep cut along Sandara’s arm as she tried to get clear. A few moments later, Feruzi managed to get at something vital on the other and it, too went berzerk, leaving her with a few more injuries, fortunately none of them serious. She waved Chopper away impatiently when he attempted triage.

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The crew gathered on the deck for their assignments as usual, and Chopper realized abruptly that he’d now been aboard the Wormwood for two weeks, long enough for the day’s activities to seem like habit. It was certainly a habit for most of the crew to stand slightly away from him, Feruzi, and Ezikial, and for Reiko to stand nearby but not exactly “with” them. Even Feruzi’s cluster of friendly companions, now including not just Rosie, but Samms Toppin, Jack Scrimshaw, and Giffer Tibbs stayed well away, not wanting to risk the obvious ire of Mr. Plugg or Mr. Scourge.

The wisdom of their approach became obvious as Plugg gathered the four of them in by eye and gave a very faint purse-lipped smile. “I have special work for you today,” he said. “Boarding School.”

“Cute,” Chopper said, acknowledging the pun with the universal faint grimace. Ezikial grimaced as well, not so faintly.

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The Wormwood crept close and closer to her quarry, which now retaliated with a hail of crossbow and ballista bolts aimed at crew and rigging. The name of the large and wallowing Rahadoumi merchantman was now visible on the transom: the Man’s Promise, she was called, no doubt meant to be optimistic but now somewhat ominous. There could be no mistaking what Barnabus Harrigan promised for this ship and its crew.

The missile fire became somewhat erratic as a heavy fog condensed out of the air, magically summoned by Peppery Longfarthing as an aid for the coming battle. The assault team stood waiting at the Wormwood’s rail. Reiko didn’t even flinch as a crossbow bolt narrowly missed her, she was preoccupied watching the two ships collide. It was a purposeful collision, not a shattering crash, bumping the merchantman into alignment with the Wormwood’s starboard side while leaving both ships relatively undamaged. Four grapples flew from the assault team and were made fast.

Reiko and Chopper easily crossed the gap above the seething, shark-filled water. Captain Harrigan had seen to that, ordering Reiko and Fishguts to slaughter the ship’s stock of pigs and dump the blood and bacon overboard to draw the monsters of the deep. Anyone so unlucky as to fall overboard would be ripped apart if they tried to swim. Feruzi followed them more slowly, but once on the other side she drew her bow without hesitation and fired into the fog, hitting someone who screamed. Reiko moved that direction in the quick, balanced shuffle of an experienced warrior. Her sword snapped out, removing a man’s head in a single motion.

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Ezikial spent their second day aboard the Promise swabbing the deck, a chore he engaged in diligently even though it seemed a poor use of his skills. He never objected to even the hardest work aboard a ship—all proper ship work seemed right to him, somehow, and did not grate on his nerves the way it did other people. He was just settling into his pace when Reiko staggered by, burdened with a load of sea turtles. Her grasp slipped as she turned to edge past and she wound up dumping the entire batch nearly at his feet.

“So sorry,” she muttered, trying to chivvy the turtles back into a heap.

“Help her, fool,” a voice grated, and Ezikial glanced up to receive an imperious gesture from Mr. Scourge. Shrugging, he picked up several by their tails and helped Reiko ferry them to the galley. He couldn’t have been gone more than a minute or two, but by the time he returned to the deck it was smeared with two dozen filthy bootprints. He blinked at the mess for a moment, slightly dazzled by the laughable childishness, then began cleaning the same patch of deck for the second time.

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Ezikial swept the torch through the air, leaving a trail across his vision but also revealing a cluster of tiny pink creatures, whether birds, bats, or insects he could not say. Two of them squealed and fell, impaled on arrows, as the rest of the creatures took wing, revealing long, needle-sharp beaks or stingers.

Reiko scowled as she readied her blade. “So, Ms. Feruzi, you said insects passed along the ghoul plague? I think these qualify.” One of them came at her, buzzing most unpleasantly, and she sliced it neatly in half, the blade continuing in a smooth geometric arc to intersect with another stirge bothering Leila. Ezikial skewered a third on his sword while Pluggsley the monkey clung to the back of his shirt and screeched.

With the stirge out of her face, Leila got a grip on her bow and sent an arrow into the darkness of the overhang. Something squealed and fell to the ground. Feruzi continued to fire, each shot movement deliberate yet still nearly too fast to see. More stirges fell to the ground, until the final one launched itself directly at Feruzi’s face. Chopper’s axe flicked out almost casually and swatted it.

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“Tatsumi? Tatsumi!” Reiko crossed the beach in a single bound and flung herself on her brother, who grinned a bit sheepishly.

“You . . . know her, then, Tatsumi?” the resplendent man asked, gesturing for his other crew to stand down. This close, his coat was visibly faded and somewhat threadbare, although the coat of mail he wore under it gleamed like silver. Tatsumi nodded at him respectfully.

“Captain, this is my sister. Although the last time I saw her, she was back in Genzei.”

Reiko bowed deeply. “I heard rumors that Tatsumi had joined your crew, Captain Pegsworthy. Thank you for taking care of him.”

“At your service, madam,” he said, pulling off a rather florid, courtly obeisance in return despite the slight awkwardness of his peg leg. “As you know my name, it seems the introductions fall to you.”

“Yes, of course. I am Nakayama Reiko, please, call me Reiko.” She gestured toward Ezikial, who holstered his pistols and nodded. “This is Mr. Ezikial Hands, he is our Master Gunner.”

“Hands? Any relation to Israel Hands, perchance?”

“Aye, sir, my father.”

Captain Pegsworthy was sharply taken aback. “Truly! How remarkable. I’ve heard your father was quite a meritorious pirate. Served under the Hurricane King himself.”

“So I have heard, as well, sir. Perhaps we can discuss this over a drink.”

“A better idea has rarely been voiced.” Pegsworthy nodded again to Ezikial and turned his attention back to Reiko, who recognized her cue.

As a city, Senghor was a bit on the small side, but large enough that the Crisis brought little overt notice; they paid the docking fee and the officials became scarce.

“We should set a watch on the ship and allow liberty in shifts,” Feruzi commented as the four chief officers surveyed the broad stone pier.

“Yes. Do that.” Chopper hopped onto the gangplank and strolled onto the dock.

Feruzi gathered up the crew and had them draw lots for watches. She shook her finger at them in somewhat exaggerated admonishment. “Do not get so drunk that you cannot return on your own.” She then passed around some spending money. Leila came up for the first group on liberty, but swapped lots with Wrast. This city did not seem congenial for maintaining proper philosophical distance.

“Time to stretch the legs,” Reiko said, following after Chopper.

“Indeed,” Feruzi agreed, Ezikial joining them.

Chopper had already engaged one of the dockworkers in cheerful conversation. “Hey, you should join us, we’re awesome pirates,” he enthused. Feruzi suppressed a wince.

“Perhaps we should look for a tavern?” she suggested.

Chopper didn’t seem to notice. “We took down Whalebone Pilk! Hey, somebody hold up the broke-ass melted bell!” he yelled back to the ship. The crew exchanged baffled looks and Feruzi waved them back to their work. She grabbed the back of Chopper’s coat and began hauling him bodily down the street. “This is not dignified!” Chopper complained.

“And shouting about our deeds on the docks, is?”

“Yessss?”

“No.”

Reiko shook her head. “Good luck,” she said to Feruzi. “I will return at dusk.”

Feruzi deposited Chopper beneath a sign proclaiming the Sea Witch. “Here. One tavern.” From the sound of things, it was crowded inside and the patrons were in a party mood.

“Oooh,” Chopper brightened, straightening his coat. Feruzi shook her head and smiled slightly.

“Give ’em hell,” she said, opening the door for him with some ceremony.

Chopper strode into the common room. “Presenting Captain Chopper!” he exclaimed. “Me! A round for the house! On Captain Chopper! Me! Yaaar!”

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The jungle seemed to close in around them; landmarks vanished into a mass of vegetation and the faint rustle of the river was quickly drowned out by the drone of insects. Sandara tried swatting them away from her face, but it was futile. “This makes Bonewrack Isle look like a paradise,” she complained. Feruzi shrugged and continued her examination of the underbrush.

“There do seem to be jaguars about,” she said finally. “They climb trees. Better than we do. So watch above as well as to the sides. There are larger creatures about as well—solitary ones—but I do not recognize their markings. They are almost like midget elephants.”

“Dinosaurs?” Reiko asked. Feruzi blinked.

“Oh, those great beats? I have seen them. My father had one as a pet for a time, but it looked nothing like these tracks.”

“I’ve never seen one myself, so it’s only a guess.”

“Do they climb trees?” Feruzi asked.

“Not these,” Chopper said, looking over the tracks. “Herbivores, by the look of it. Maybe horse-sized.” Sandara sighed in relief.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Well, they still might trample us, but at least the meat would go to waste. Until the scavangers got to it, of course,” Chopper concluded cheerfully. Sandara shot him a dark look.

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“Ships ahoy!” called the lookout and the officers assembled onto the deck of the Crisis to see for themselves. Two ships were visible near the horizon, quite close to each other.

Ezikial’s reaction was immediate: “Bring up the ballistae!”

Reiko frowned slightly while Chopper examined them through his spyglass. “Captain?” she inquired. One of the ships was clearly chasing the other, engaged in a full-out battle, but the colors were indistinguishable at this distance.

“Eh,” Chopper shrugged, “take the winner?”

“Would it not be best to know why they are fighting, first?” Feruzi asked. “Or even, who they are?”

Chopper glanced at her. “Maybe, but . . . pirate.” He shrugged again. “Feelin’ lazy today. Steady as she goes. We’ll get there soon enough.”

“Right,” Reiko said. “Maybe you could go take a nap and we’ll let you know when the good stuff starts?”

Chopper seemed to give this consideration. “Nah.”

“Right,” Reiko drawled. “You just leave everything to me.”

“Duh. I had to do all the work with the Dominator, so you layabouts should do something. For once.” Reiko struggled to conceal a smirk as she turned away and began ascending the rigging. Feruzi glared openly at Chopper.

“YOU did all the work?” she demanded.

If Tidewater Keep was so crowded with all these new guests, McCleagh grumbled to himself, why couldn’t he find any of them? It was early morning, a time when most pirates were snoring in their bunks, but from the looks of things nearly all of them had risen early, belted on their weapons, and wandered off. At least their Captain was still in Lady Smythee’s rooms, a fact that did little to brighten McCleagh’s mood. He suppressed bitter thoughts with the efficiency of long practice. Lady Smythee looked favorably on the arrangement, and that was all that should concern him. Well, perhaps not all.

“I’m concerned about the safety of the castle’s inhabitants while they’re about their duties,” he told Chopper when the man finally emerged in search of some breakfast.

“Seems you should be, aye. Are ye thinkin’ there’s a nest o’ the fish men hereabouts?”

“I’m not sure. They could be coming to attack from miles away.” McCleagh sighed. He hated to ask, but there was no doubt the pirates were competent. “Could you . . . keep an eye on the people?”

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Studying the dead sorceress’ skin revealed an elaborate map—one curiously without labels or names. Chopper copied it down on a sheet of parchment and sent for Fishguts. The old salt turned the map around several times, then let out a whoop that echoed across the cove and nearly took Chopper’s hat off.

“This map mus’ lead ter Mancatcher Cove, Cap’n, if we c’n read it! What be these ‘ere scratchin’s?”

“It is Minkaian,” Reiko said. "In Taldane, it might read:

“From blue bight’s embrace
Spy the Grave Lady’s prize tooth
With the Dawnflower’s first kiss
Climb the Captain’s wayward orb
To claim old king’s hoard.”

“Some sort o’ riddle, then. Sorry, Cap’n, I heard o’ Mancatcher Cove, but that be all I know,” Fishguts said, sighing.

“I know it,” Reiko informed him. “Nearly a century ago there was a captain called Cyrus Wolfe, a mage of some kind. He hunted the coast of Garund for the most part and was so successful the Free Captains offered him the Hurricane Crown. It is said that he laughed in their faces. It is believed that Wolve divided up his treasure and hid it in several different places, but most of them have either been discovered and pillaged or are simply lost. Mancatcher Cove is supposed to be his greatest hoard—and it still remains untouched. Wolfe selected an uncharted island shrouded in dense jungle and surrounded by forbidding cliffs, save for one cove said to be so deep it descended into the pit of Hell. Wolfe used his sorcerous powers to reach into that pit and call forth a guardian that could crush any ships attempting to enter the cove. Copies of this map are not all that uncommon in the Shackles, but no one who sets out in search of the treasure ever returns.” She stared levelly at Chopper and began counting under her breath.

“Except us, of course,” Chopper announced.

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“That is—rather disturbing,” Feruzi said at last. Reiko frowned, evidently thinking hard, her expression inscrutable. She put the jar with its gruesome contents away for safekeeping and stood.

“Shall we continue on?” Chopper shrugged at Reiko and they continued their journey through the watery tunnels. They followed the cross-tunnel south, arriving at a small chamber on the left hand with numerous organic filaments running from floor to ceiling like squishy columns. Fist-sized pink ovoids were attached to these columns, bobbing gently in the current. Feruzi grimaced at the sight.

“It is going to turn out that Wolfe’s treasure was his collection of weird plants, isn’t it.”

“It’s lookin’ a lot like that,” Chopper agreed.

“Captain, there’s something in there. I can hear it moaning,” Ezikial said. They moved cautiously into the cavern, Feruzi taking the rear and flinching away from the gelatinous protrusions. On close inspection the ovoids were slightly translucent, revealing small tadpole forms inside.

“Is this some kind of sahuagin . . . hatchery?” Feruzi demanded.

“No,” Reiko said. "They’re locathah. They’re kind of like rivals to the sahuagin . . . usually. “I’m not sure how or why they’d be breeding down here with the sahuagin.”

The moaning turned out to be coming from a fishlike humanoid—a locathah—chained to the wall at the back of the cave. Someone had removed the creature’s legs and crudely stitched up the stumps. It seemed oblivious to its surroundings.

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“His Kingliness, Kerdak Bonefist, has consented to an audience tomorrow night, Captain Sir,” Conchobar declaimed, posing next to their table at the Riptide Alehouse in Port Peril. The gnome had to raise his voice to be heard over the exuberant crowd. “Since we don’t have the sponsorship of a recognized Free Captain, we’re likely to undergo ‘Testing’.”

“Bring it on,” was Chopper’s response. Reiko shrugged.

“It would be convenient if Captain Bloodmourn were in port.”

“Would she sponsor us?” Feruzi asked.

“Probably, although I would have to talk to her first. And she would want to meet Captain Chopper and the rest of you.”

Feruzi eyed Chopper for a moment. “Well . . . perhaps it’s better she is not here.” Reiko smirked.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate his unique personality.”

“That would be a first, then,” Ezikial growled. Chopper replied with a friendly grin.

“You’re lucky I’m not convinced you won’t shoot me, Mister Hands.”

“Are you convinced I won’t shoot you, then?” Feruzi demanded.

“Mostly. Pretty sure it annoys you every time I am obstinate enough to get myself shot.”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to think I was getting soft. One of these days I’ll have a chance to pay back that debt and you can go get yourself shot with my blessing.”

“Well, I already have plans to re-up muh policy with your honor, should it ever come t’that.”

“We’ll see. So is there anything special we should do to get ready for this meeting tomorrow?

“Don’t go dying beforehand?” Reiko offered. “Or getting yourself killed, as it were. That might look unprofessional.”

Feruzi shrugged. “In my nation, formally meeting a King has more . . . significance. Or so I hear. My own meeting was not so formal.”

“I shouldn’t worry overmuch. A king’s just a man, same as any other. A might more prickly about respect, mayhap, but I can mind m’manners if and when the occasion calls for it,” Chopper informed them.

“Pirates ne’er stood much on formailty,” Sandara said. “E’en the ones in charge.”

Chopper nodded. “I’m counting on it. Who’s this now?” he added as a tall, lean man with tousled blond hair and an eyepatch muscled up to their table. His clothes were simple but fine, and he carried himself like a fencer.

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Tsadok Goldtooth reappeared at the Crisis shortly after lunch. Another crowd of onlookers all waiting to be entertained gathered rapidly. Feruzi shook her head. “We are certainly attracting a lot of attention with this.”

Goldtooth ignored her and addressed himself to Chopper. “Have someone bring up a table and chairs.” Chopper gave a negligent wave and snapped his fingers. After several seconds of blank staring, Dar and Marteen ran off to fetch the table and chairs from the chartroom, nearly the only real furniture aboard the Crisis. “Who am I playing?” Goldtooth growled.

“That would be myself, Mr. Goldtooth,” Reiko informed him.

“This is my first mate, Nakayama Reiko,” Chopper added. Reiko’s chin came up just about to Goldtooth’s belt buckle as the half-orc scrutinized her.

“All right, then,” he said finally and waved a dwarf from his own crew forward, followed by a couple of swabs hauling a keg of rum. “Argus, the two of us, and nobody else at the table. Argus will be dealing.” Reiko bowed politely to the dwarf, who was nearly as tall as she was, if much broader. His thick, heavy-jointed hands strongly resembled building equipment, but he handled the cards deftly.

“Should I check the rum, Captain?” Ezikial muttered.

“Aye, do that.”

“Mr. Goldtooth,” Ezikial called. “Do you mind if I check the rum before you start?”

“Afraid we’re trying to poison the winner, Mister . . . ?”

“Ezikial Hands. I am something of a connoisseur.”

“Ezikial . . . Hands?” Goldtooth lingered over the name. “If you must, then by all means. I expect you will have much to discuss with the King . . . should you win an audience with him.”

Ezikial took a dipper of the rum, sniffed it appreciatively, then drank it off. “I will not deny that, Mr. Goldtooth. I almost wish I were playing just for the rum, Reiko-san. Besmara’s luck to you.”

Argus set out a hundred platinum coins in small stacks in front of Goldtooth then looked expectantly at Reiko.

“You mentioned that you brought along a moneychanger?” Reiko said smoothly. The dwarf nodded and they bent their heads together to dicker, finally settling on a sum of coins and small jewels as equivalent stake and exchanging them for the platinum coins. Goldtooth and Reiko each threw in their ante and Argus dealt the cards.

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Chopper walked across the chartroom and booted Reiko’s door until she appeared. Fishguts bustled in behind him, carrying breakfast. “What do we know about Tessa Fairwind?”

“She is captain of the Luck of the Draw and one of the most popular pirate lords on the Council. Some say she is next in line for the Hurricane Crown,” Reiko said. “Captain Bloodmourne is part of her fleet.”

“Ye’re movin’ up in th’ world, Cap’n,” Fishguts said, peering at the note.

“Well, I guess I could head over. In . . . huh, three hours? I slept that late? Well, rustle up Feruzi and Ezikial then.”

“Feruzi hasna come back yet, Cap’n.”

“No? Well then fetch my Concho. Can’t go unattended.”

Tessa Fairwind’s dwelling turned out to be a very pleasant townhouse overlooking the harbor. Someone with a deft hand had seen to it that while rich and tasteful, the ornamentation stopped short of opulent display, a restraint unusual among pirates. Conchobar, acting the part of retainer, rang the bell and announced them, passing on the invitation. They walked through a little garden courtyard and into the house, ending in the dining room in front of a large bay window.

“Nice,” Chopper remarked. "There’s just something about dining halls that overlook the sea.

Tessa Fairwind was a slender woman with long red hair worn in a neat braid with a jaunty tricorne perched atop it; her clothes were a similar mix of practicality and fashionable finery. She had a refined, delicate beauty and pointed ears, speaking of elven ancestry and most notable when she smiled. “Isn’t there just? I’m Captain Tessa Fairwind. I welcome you to my home.”

“A pleasure. Captain Chopper, First Mate Nakayama Reiko, Gunner Ezikial Hands, and Conchobar Turlach Shortstone at your service.”

“Ma’am,” Ezikial grated out while Reiko bowed formally. Conchobar seemed to be radiating delight.

“Please, sit. Have an aperitif.” The liquor cabinet on the sidebar was extensive, even containing Tian sake. “Dinner should be ready soon. I congratulate you on being named Free Captains.”

“Thank you,” Chopper said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there last night, but I had a prior engagement. Tell me, what do you know of the current political situation in the Shackles?”

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“So, which of these paths are we to follow?” Feruzi asked when they returned to the Crisis.

“If we had two ships . . .”

“Technically we do. They are just . . . elsewhere.”

“We should go after the wreckers,” Chopper said. “That’s our given quest.”

“I would hate to discover that the halflings had vital information, though,” Feruzi told him.

“We can always go after the other if Dindreann doesn’t net us enough information.”

“Well, Mr. Slip’s request was only to discover what has happened to the Brine Banshee. Technically, that can wait for a little while,” Reiko said.

“Wreckers it is.”

“I’ll chart a course right away, Captain,” Leila said.

The shoals Slip had suggested were only about six hours out from Bag Island, around the Rampore Isles. They reached the area after dark and began looking around.

“So, now what?” Feruzi asked. “Sail around until we hit something?”

“Never been anywhere near here,” Chopper muttered. “Perhaps drop anchor until the daylight?”

“Ship ahoy!” called Etto the lookout. “Ahead off the port bow! Tis a wee merchant ship with her sails lowered!”

“Then again…” Chopper grinned.

“Rosie! Grab the boys and load up!” Ezikial called.

“Aye aye, sir!” the halfling shouts.

“Why don’t we wait and watch. Maybe the wreckers lured that ship in. It’s not as if we announced to the world that we were coming here,” Reiko suggested. Chopper nodded.

“Settle. If it’s the wreckers and we stay put, hopefully they’ll grow impatient. If it’s a victim, they’ll keep the night.”

“I agree.” Chopper squinted into the gloom. Fishguts came up to the rail beside him. “Can you make anything out, Cookie?”

“Have ye got the Farglass, Cap’n?” Chopper handed it over and Fishguts scrutinized the distant ship. “She’s raisin’ sails. Must be ‘fraid of us. Rahadoumi colors . . . plate says Shinin’ Star.”

Chopper shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“That is interesting,” Reiko said. “I had a thought. What if this ship is not directly, but indirectly related to the wreckers, as in, the people the wreckers sell their hauls to? And what if they made a trade quite recently? It would not be good to let them get away. Tracking them down later may prove difficult.”

“Thassa lotta conjecture.”

“Only one good way to find out whether she’s right or not,” Feruzi said.

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Feruzi came hurrying up to them as the Crisis hove into view, clearly returning from some errand of her own. She spotted Chopper and bore down on him. “I had an idea about these spies . . .” she said. Chopper covered his mouth to conceal a grin as Pegsworthy exclaimed, “There she is!”

Feruzi blinked, startled into silence. Undaunted, Pegsworthy continued. “How good to see you again, my lady. How fare you this day?” Feruzi began to look cornered as Pegsworthy advanced on her, clearly not going to be diverted this time. Chopper started to open his mouth and Reiko kicked him, causing a startled grunt. Meanwhile, some scrambling thought in Feruzi’s mind seemed to have gained a foothold, and she straightened into a posture of formal irritation.

“Feruzi is fine, thank you.”

“I am overjoyed to hear it.”

“And how are you, Captain Pegsworthy?”

“Well enough now that I’ve found my miscreant first mate. Go on, Mr. Torkelsen, the Bonaventure won’t make herself ready.” Pegsworthy clapped his hands together briskly. “Now then, where were we?”

Feruzi pulled the bow out from over her shoulder and held it in front of her like a shield. “Feruzi supposes she should return this to you, now.”

“It was a gift, my lady. The Eagle-Claw was always meant for hands such as yours. I would not have it gathering dust in my hold or back at Firegrass Isle.”

“Mmph. The bow is . . . lovely. But Feruzi is not sure it is . . . appropriate.” She fingered the carvings regretfully. “If Feruzi may ask, what are your intentions, exactly?”

Pegsworthy sighed. “I see our lives do not leave us much time for innuendos, so I will be direct. I find I wish to court you, in whatever manner befits a woman of your . . . stature. And in whatever manner makes you comfortable. Or, the least uncomfortable.” Another startled grunt came from Chopper’s direction and Pegsworthy glanced that direction, a bit unnerved. “I assure you my intentions are entirely honorable. It was not my wish to cause you distress. If you find me bothersome say the word and I will trouble you no more.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Jasperleaf Apothecary turned out to be a surprisingly large building—a decaying three-storey manor behind an apparently humble storefront. The window-shutters were closed and nailed shut. Reiko had spent some hours visiting with locals to learn what she could. Several people claimed that the shop was closed to the public but would open for a customer that called for ‘three jugs of terrap sap’. The officers of Crisis were debating their approach when the Bonaventure arrived in port. They decided to delay in order to meet with Pegsworthy and combine forces. The friendly Captain was looking a little more ragged than usual and had several new, pink scars; he related a fascinating tale of battle with an aboleth at the wreck of the Brine Banshee, a battle that nearly claimed his life.

“We heard that asking for ‘two pounds of powdered thileu bark’ was the code to get into this apothecary,” Pegsworthy finished well after sunset.

“Interesting,” Reiko said, stirring herself to light the table lamp. “We heard to use a different phrase.”

“That IS interesting.”

“Whatever they are doing in there they seem to be at some pains to keep it quiet,” Feruzi said. “So, front door?”

Reiko shrugged. “It can’t hurt. If that fails, we can go with our second option.”

“Now?” Pegsworthy asked. “Or in daylight?”

“My guess is that night would be best considering their usual trade. We can try again in the morning if no one answers. If that fails also, we can go with the second option.” Reiko surveyed the group quickly: Feruzi, Ezikial, Leila, Sandara, and Chopper were present as usual, but Pegsworthy had also brought several of his own crew: Eggal Torkelsen, Labella Loor, and a dwarf he hadn’t introduced. “It might be best if we split up.”

“If you think that is best,” Feruzi said.

“We’ll try first, eh?” Chopper said. “Pegsworthy and company can rush to our rescue if things go in a southerly sort of direction.”

“Of course. We stand ready to assist you,” Pegsworthy said.

Posted by: Jennifer

“This is less an infiltration and more an assault at this point,” Chopper remarked as they cleared their way up to the second floor. Feruzi helpfully pointed out the arrow-studded corpse of the peculiar beast she’d discovered and subsequently killed. Snake-headed tentacles grew out of the shoulders of an immense red-and-black cat. Everyone took a look at it but no one could identify it—whatever it was, it was rare and probably not the cuddliest of pets.

Labella picked the lock on the southern door and opened the door with great care, avoiding some gooey substance smeared on the inside of the handle. The room beyond was an extensive alchemy laboratory. Chopper glanced inside and nodded to himself. “Toss it,” he said, and Ezikial promptly attempted to fit the entire lab into one sack, displaying impressive skill at multidimensional geometry. Sadly, the equipment was not as current on the application of space-time vortices and resisted this treatment, causing Ezikial to negotiate with Labella for the acquisition of a vehicle equipped with more real-world storage capacity. Barely resisting the urge to laugh, Labella left with Torkelsen and Pegsworthy’s dwarven sorcerer Durgrin to secure transport.

Posted by: Jennifer

Author’s Note: this session writeup deviates wildly from the session itself, but a lot of things that got glossed over were important to explain events and a lot of other things that took up a lot of time didn’t require much explanation, so I Took Liberties.

To meet with Tessa Fairwind, they had to make sail immediately for Cauldron Rock, starting point for this year’s Free Captains’ Regatta. Tessa was delighted to receive Zarskia’s information and take the spymaster off Chopper’s hands.

“Are you entering the race?” Tessa asked.

“I was thinkin’ about it.”

“Do so. Here, I’ll even pay the entry fee for you. You having a seat on the Pirate Council would be a great help to me. Even if you find you don’t agree with my decisions, at least you won’t be that worm Harrigan.”

“The Wormwood’s racin’, then?”

“Aye, and widely regarded as the favorite to win the thing. I do NOT want Harrigan on the council. For all I know, he’s in league with Cheliax himself!”

Chopper grinned. “Don’t you worry. I owe him a bad turn or six. Taking the purse out from under his nose would be a pleasure.”

“Good.”

The deck of the Kraken was already crowded with the captains and senior crew of the sixteen other Regatta entrants when the Crisis party arrived. Many of the faces were familiar from Lucre Hold, but none of them had introduced themselves at that time so names could not be assigned to faces. As they edged through the crowd, one tall, imposing figure interposed himself in their path—Captain Barnabas Harrigan. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, grinning hugely.

“What, just now?” Feruzi shot back. Chopper sounded a brief chuckle.

“I, for one, won’t be damned,” Reiko said, “but it’s always a pleasure, Mr. Harrigan.”

“Ain’t, it, though.” His grin faded as he crossed his beefy arms and sneered down at her. Reiko’s face, as always, was set into an inscrutable faint smile that made her resemble a marble statue.

“However did you finally deal with your mutinous first mate?”

“Word is ye handled ‘im for me. Hope ye weren’t expectin’ a ree-ward past lettin’ ye hang onter my ship.”

“A paragon of generosity is Captain Harrigan,” said Chopper. “I won’t let it be said otherwise.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Feruzi shrugged at Chopper. “That was . . . not as bad as it could have been, I suppose.”

“Codswallop is what it is, pure and simple,” Chopper growled. Ezikial scowled in agreement.

“Are you all right, Merrill?” Feruzi asked. Pegsworthy sighed.

“I will be. It might take some time, though.”

Feruzi began to fidget, glancing over at Chopper again, who tilted his head to the side and regarded her curiously. “I have a . . . favor I want to ask you,” she said, speaking to Pegsworthy. “If you don’t mind. And, er, if Chopper doesn’t mind.” Chopper’s eyebrows shot up and Pegsworthy visibly shook off whatever was occupying his mind.

“Of course,” Pegsworthy said. “Anything.”

Posted by: Jennifer

The first building they entered proved to be a chapel, only a handful of the simple pews still intact between the others that lay scattered and broken on the floor. A golden symbol hung from the ceiling, a winged eye in a ring, the symbol of Aroden. Once the patron deity of Cheliax and a number of other major countries, Aroden had disappeared nearly a century ago when all of Golarion was wracked by terrible storms, ending in the formation of the Eye of Abendego. Aroden’s former worshippers had mostly abandoned him, converting to other faiths or, in the case of Cheliax, to the worship of devils. This chapel could have lain abandoned for decades or centuries, there was no way to tell.

“Is that real gold?” Feruzi asked, eyeing the symbol. Leila studied it for a moment.

“I believe it is, Feruzi,” she said at last.

“That much gold undefended for this long? It must be cursed,” Feruzi continued as Leila looked around for some way to reach the symbol. Four large, spider-like creatures with eerie humanoid faces suddenly flashed into view, snapping their mandibles. Chopper knocked one away before it could poison him and it tore a long gash in his wrist. Leila shouted as another one clamped down on her leg. Then the spiders vanished as suddenly as they appeared.

Ezikial waved his pistols furiously, seeking a target, while Feruzi pressed her back to the wall and cast a protective spell. The spiders burst into existence again, clawing and biting at everyone. Ezikial shot one in the abdomen before they could vanish a second time.

Posted by: Jennifer

Bikendi Otongu faded from sight.

“Well,” Reiko said, “That was interesting.” Ezikial nodded agreement. “I am fairly certain he wasn’t giving us the full truth about needing to take over one of our bodies to do this ritual, though.”

“We will need to do something to get these spirits off the island,” Feruzi said. “All these risen dead will prove problematic.”

“I don’t disagree with this notion, but I am not willing to let something take over my body,” Reiko insisted.

“We should not discuss it standing in this room, I think,” Feruzi said.

Posted by: Jennifer

After spending the night on the Crisis, the executive officers left Leila in charge of the ship and took the ship’s boat, passing the Chelish fortress and rowing upriver until they reached a placid lake. They pulled the boat up on the eastern shore and discovered this area was not a trackless wilderness after all—someone had built a gigantic corral out of whole trees nearby. It was an imposing, if crude, edifice, yet it clearly hadn’t been imposing enough. The beams lay broken and smashed on the ground and massive clawed footprints led away into—or, more accurately, over—the brush.

“What the fook made that?” Chopper asked.

“More dinosaurs, it looks like,” Feruzi said, surveying the prints.

“Like Koro-koro?”

“Ah, less bitey, then.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Bereft of their leader, the remaining cyclopes avoided contact, leaving the Crisis officers generally in command of Sumitha. Sandara healed the worst of their injuries while they surveyed the ruins.

“So, I guess we go look at the ‘wish woman’ now?” Feruzi asked.

“Aye, I reckon,” Chopper said. They approached the outdoor monument in the center of the ruins, a raised dais surrounded by decorative archways and alabaster columns. The triangular pool at the center shimmered and a vaguely female form—giant-sized—manifested.

“Welcome,” she said.

“So, what’s the what, now?” Chopper muttered.

“Greetings,” the woman said. “I am Vailea, the marid.”

“More ghosts?” Feruzi asked.

“I am no ghost, but a creature of elemental water, trapped here in the waning days of Ghol-Gan by ancient cyclopean magics.”

Feruzi crossed her arms over her chest. “And I take it you want our help to get loose?” She looked at Chopper pointedly. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in pretending we’re not going to help.”

“I will not deny that I greatly desire this, but I can only be freed if someone uses one of my wishes to free me.”

“Wishes?” Chopper asked. “Elaborate.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Ezikial winced as Sandara’s spell took effect, restoring his eyesight. The first thing he saw was the Dreamstone sitting on the chartroom table with both Reiko and Feruzi glaring at it as though they could force it to render up its secrets through sheer willpower. Leila, Rosie, and Conchobar sat perched around the edges of the room. Ezikial’s hand went automatically to his flask. A swallow of rum only dulled the headache brought on by the morning sunlight glinting through the windows.

“As nearly as I can determine,” Feruzi said, finally, “smashing the stone would solve most of our problems.”

“Would that get us th’ Cap’n back?” Sandara asked.

“It should. That’s how the spell works . . . although it’s generally supposed to be much more limited in scope.”

“Dispel it?” Ezikial suggested, looking at Sandara, who shrugged.

“I’m less sure what the effect of that would be, if she even can manage it,” Feruzi said. “I wish I had more books.”

“Might be nice ter ’ave that genie still ’ere,” Sandara said softly.

“There was a genie?” Leila asked eagerly.

“Are you willing to risk the Captain’s life by smashing the stone without knowing exactly what will happen?” Reiko asked.

Feruzi held up her hands. “Tell me what you require to be certain enough and I will try to provide it. If you think I’m not knowledgeable enough, that is fine. Who else would you like to consult? We could ask Durgrin, or any other spellcaster you know. Of course, it would take two days at minimum for them to receive the message and send a reply.”

It was Kuthona, the beginning of winter. The island was quiet for the first time—the hired workmen had finished their repairs and taken ship for other ports. The Bonaventure, the Kitsune, and the Sated Satyr were anchored in the cove alongside the Crisis. The former Chelish fortress would be crowded tonight, but for now they still awaited the arrival of the guests of honor—three pirate lords who would pass judgment on Captain Chopper’s fitness to join the Pirate Council.

Captain Pegsworthy simply rolled over and resumed snoring when Feruzi got up at the crack of dawn, dressed in her simple white gown, and left the room. There was nothing useful for her to do at this early hour but there was no possible chance of her relaxing, either. Mr. Kroop waved at her, yawning, when she invaded the kitchen.

“Will I need to set something on fire to get rid of her?” Audessa asked sotto voce.

“Jist hope summon gets ’ere soon,” Kroop told her.

Rickety Hake was the first guest to arrive, expressing his delight at being invited. Chopper appeared, arrayed in some of Conchobar’s finest work, and shook hands with the grinning old man. The Luck of the Draw, Tessa’s flagship, arrived next, just before noon. She told Chopper to expect Avimar Sorrinash, Cerise Bloodmourn, and Mase Darimar as the Council’s representatives.

“I thought I should excuse myself, being rather biased,” she explained. “I’ll be around if you need me, though.”

“Have you met Fargo Vitterande?” Feruzi asked as Chopper turned to greet Lady Agasta. Tessa shook her head. The weasely little man perked up at the introduction and was soon happily comparing mutual acquaintances with Captain Fairwind. Next to arrive was the Kraken with the Master of the Gales, not formally part of the review, either. The Master gave Chopper a single, distracted nod and swept off on whatever mysterious druid business occupied his attention.

Reiko appeared, wearing a kimono of fine cloth but without the nearly-immobilizing extravagance of full formality. Ezikial wore a sharply-tailored black and red coat accessorized with pistols and a neat ascot wrapped around his neck.

The next to arrive was Lady Bloodmourn, and it was time for the party to begin. “Nakayama Reiko, as I live and breathe,” she declared by way of introduction. “You have come a LONG way.” She gestured to the Captains entering behind her. “Please, introduce us to your shipmates.”

Reiko bowed deeply as a sign of extreme respect. “This is the Captain of the Crisis, Chopper. And here we have Ms. Feruzi and Mr. Hands.”

“Captain,” Lady Bloodmourn said, making a courtly little obeisance. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Right,” Sorrinash growled. “Time for you to show us the big guns. I want to see your fortifications before we feast.”

Chopper nodded easily. “Mr. Hands, if you would?”

“This way,” Ezikial said diffidently. Sorrinash grilled him relentlessly as they toured the battlements, bringing up obscure terms and historical comparisons. Ezikial didn’t seem impressed and answered the questions with curt expertise. Finally, Sorrinash gave a grudging nod.

“Not bad. I think you have this coastline under control.”

“Aye,” was Ezikial’s laconic response.

“Maybe you’ll have some use for this, then,” Sorrinash continued, handing Ezikial a clear glass bottle with a tiny, intricately detailed miniature ship inside.

“Sir?”

“It’s considered appropriate for us to show our approval with gifts,” Lady Bloodmourn explained. “Now, if that’s out of the way, I could do with some entertainment.”

“Fortunately, we anticipated that,” Feruzi said dryly. “This way.”

Audessa and her crew of former courtesans had the hall ready when they arrived. The Pirate Lords smacked their lips appreciatively over the Old Deep Rum and soon the carouse was in full swing. “So, tell us what you found on this island. It has quite the . . . reputation. Your navigator mentioned something about a giant octopus, I believe.”

“That was just the welcoming committee,” Feruzi said, dryly. “After we disposed of it we discovered that the fortress, our new home, was infested with not one, but two sets of mystical creatures: Nightmare shadows and phasing spiders. We were put to some inconvenience, it is true.”

“It sounds like it.”

“But that was before we discovered the immortality-seeking wizard ghost in the basement. He called himself Bikendi Otongu, if you have ever heard the name. He was responsible for this infestation—he made a deal with a hag that, unfortunately, didn’t turn out very well for him. He was planning on using an artifact sacred to the island’s cyclops population to make himself immortal, but even though he sacrificed a hundred souls to this end he was killed before he could finish the ritual, binding his soul here in eternal waiting. We reclamed the artifact from the cyclopes—they weren’t too eager to let loose of it—but it didn’t seem right to make a deal with a known backstabber like Otongu, so we destroyed it. Then we destroyed him.”

“Impressive.”

Feruzi placed a small box on the table and flipped it open to reveal six fire opals. “Do you know why this is called the Island of Empty Eyes? The many statues on this island once held gems like these. I hope you will accept them as souvenirs—of your visit. The cyclopes only have one eye apiece, but since we have two this seems more appropriate.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Lady Bloodmourne said. “I have a gift for you, as well.” She waved to one of her nearby crew who acted as her personal retainer.

Chopper realized someone was tugging at his jacket. “Captain!” one of Audessa’s ladies hissed. “We could use some help with a, uh, minor problem in the kitchen.”

“Right. Mr. Hands, with me. Reiko, Feruzi, see to our honored guests for just a moment.”

“Of course,” Feruzi said.

“Is everything all right, Captain Chopper?” Mase Darimar asked, raising an eyebrow languidly.

“I’m sure it is nothing, Captain Darimar,” Reiko said. “Our Captain will see to whatever it is. He likes to get his hands dirty from time to time.”

Fishguts waved his hands frantically as Chopper and Ezikial entered the kitchen. “Oh, thank the Black Queen yer here. They’re comin outta the bloody walls!” One of the courtesans shrieked.

“What’s this?” Chopper asked, mystified. Then he looked down. For a moment it looked like the floor was moving, then he realized that he was looking at a metaphorical sea of rats, all scratching, squeaking, and scurrying in unison. “Oh fer gawdsake.” He waved a hand and the noise abruptly stopped, the rats gathering attentively around his feet. “Oi, you lot. Fug off. This is a party, not a rat convention.”

Amazingly, this seemed to have an effect. With disappointed-sounding squeaks, the rats began disappearing back down their holes. Chopper and Ezikial searched the kitchen and the cellar while Kroop attempted to repair the damage, throwing out a lovely cake now additionally decorated with tiny rat prints. They found no sign of where the rats might have come from, nor even where they might have disappeared to.

“Hm,” Chopper said. “I guess that’s that.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Audessa said. “When you head back out, please let them know that we’re ready to serve the first course.”

Chopper hurried back into the dining hall, just in time to receive Lady Bloodmourne’s gift, a finely-worked sword cane. He grinned, and invited the pirate lords to sit down to dinner. Despite the rat mishap Kroop had outdone himself; Sorrinash and Lady Bloodmourne tucked into their plates while Captain Darimar eyed Chopper.

“So, you will have seen much of the Shackles by now,” the elven druid said. “The hidden currents, the smuggler’s coves, the weather patterns . . .”

“A good bit, aye.”

“If I were to ask you to plot a course from here to Firegrass Isle, how would you go about it?” Darimar asked. Feruzi heard Pegsworthy snort—he had just come from Firegrass Isle—but he knew better than to speak up. Chopper tapped his chin, making a show of consideration, before rattling off a litany of coarse changes and navigation notes. Darimar nodded. “You are an interesting man, Captain Chopper. I hear you have made many friends.”

“Aye, I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Not everyone would show mercy to a locathah matriarch.”

“Well, she were in a bad enough spot without us pilin’ on. Didn’t seem . . . right.”

“I have always been fascinated by the creatures of the deep and the aquatic fey.”

“We have one of those around here, actually,” Feruzi put in when no one seemed about to respond to Darimar’s latest statement. “A nereid. Her name is Sefina.”

“I appreciate your willingness to befriend and work with the aquatic races, Captain Chopper,” Darimar said. He set a large, intricately carved conch shell on the table.

“Much obliged, Captain.” Chopper started to say something else, but Sandara appeared at his elbow.

“Captain, kin I borrow ye fer a minnit?”

“Course,” he said, following her once more into the kitchen. She gestured to Fishguts, who was lying on the floor and groaning. Audessa was dabbing his forehead with a cloth.

“I dunno whass wrong with ’im,” Sandara said as Chopper crouched to examine Fishguts.

“Poison,” was Chopper’s rapid diagnosis. Ezikial, who had silently followed them to the kitchen, produced a bottle of antitoxin and passed it over.

“How’d he git poisoned?” Sandara demanded. “I checked ALL this stuff, Captain.”

“Good question. You have anything off-menu, Mister Kroop?”

“No! I bin checkin everything afore sendin it out, o’course . . . .”

“A mixed poison?” Ezikial asked.

“Mixed what, now?” Sandara demanded.

“Separate components in different dishes. They only have an effect when you eat them together.”

Sandara shook her head, not disagreeing, just disgusted. “I wouldna found that.”

“I’m at a loss,” Chopper said. “If any of our guests gets sick, that could be very, very bad.”

“An’ we’ve all eaten it, too,” Sandara said.

“Fuck,” was Ezikial’s comment.

“Mebbe we kin trick th’ Councilors inter acceptin help afore they get sick? I kin only cast a spell on ONE of em. Or Fishguts, here,” Sandara said.

“Can’t you purify it?” Ezikial asked.

“Zeke, errybody’s already eaten it!”

Ezikial sighed. “Aye, I’m grasping at straws here.” He frowned, glaring into the distance. “We should have a toast,” he declared. “Spiced whiskey. Mix it with antitoxin and hope for the best.”

“The guests are starting to wonder where you’ve all gone,” Audessa said.

“Right,” Chopper said his eyes suddenly crossed. “Zeke, you take care of it. Quickly.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Imma go throw up.”

Ezikial threw together some special drinks for the guests over the sound of Chopper being ill out back. The guests were, indeed, getting restless, but all suspicion vanished in the presence of More Booze. Ezikial took advantage of the distraction to send Feruzi out to deal with the retching Chopper. It seemed they had dodged a bullet, but no sign could be found of the poison’s source. Further investigation would have to wait; Reiko spotted Captain Sorrinash cornering one of Audessa’s ladies, who was trying to get away without causing offense and searching the crowd for help. Reiko withdrew two fans from her obi and crossed to them in the tiny, mincing steps of the geisha.

“I was wondering, Captain, have you ever been to the Ushinawa Isles?”

Sorrinash looked up, bewildered. “Can’t say as I have.”

“We have a different idea of entertainment. Shall I show you?”

Sorrinash seemed to realize that everyone in the room was staring at them now. “Yah . . .” he allowed, cautiously, letting go of the girl, who scurried away. Reiko gave him a tiny, tight-lipped smile. The courtesans playing musical instruments changed to a piece with a Tien flavor. The party slowly lurched back to action.

Feruzi reappeared with the still-somewhat-green Chopper, but Reiko seemed to have everything well in hand. With a sigh of relief, she sought out a corner to hide in, only to be interrupted by another of the courtesans.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake!” she said. Feruzi blinked.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“It’s all my fault. I gave Captain Sorrinash the . . . whatever it was that made him so hot for Cyr.”

“You did? What’s your name, again?”

“I’m Vinza. I was throwing out scraps in the back alley and this beautiful woman approached me . . . she asked me to serve Lord Sorrinash this special drink. It never even occurred to me to refuse her. Why would that be?”

“Sounds like magic to me,” Feruzi said. “Did you recognize the woman at all?”

“I’ve seen her before. Hard to forget. Naked, except for this sheer shawl covering her, you know, lady bits.”

“Perhaps we should go down to the grotto?” Feruzi asked. The guests were headed to bed and no amount of searching had revealed Sefina in or around the hold.

“I think it would be a good idea to inform our trusted allies first. We should not leave our guests unguarded,” Reiko said.

Pegsworthy, Tatsumi, Rosie, Saburo, Leila and Conchobar were quickly recruited to set up a perimeter. Ezikial climbed onto the roof to roost with his beloved ballistae. Chopper set off toward the grotto with Reiko, Feruzi, and Sandara in tow.

“It seems a little odd that Sefina would do all this walking instead of swimming,” Feruzi remarked as they followed and quickly lost the faint traces.

“I’m good, but I can’t track through water,” Chopper said. “Maybe we just pay her a visit and, you know, ask her.”

As they approached the water’s edge something launched into the air and exploded into bright sparks. A moment later Sefina rose up from the water. “I am sorry,” she said, “for what the tiny man makes me do.”

“What tiny man?” Reiko asked.

Sefina stared directly into Chopper’s eyes. “Defend me, Captain.”

“Okay.”

The nereid then sprayed a fine mist at the ladies. Feruzi ducked and Reiko tossed her head, but Sandara squealed and pawed at her eyes. “Dammit, I’m blind!” the cleric yelled.

“Sefina, what are you doing?” Reiko demanded. “We did not come here to hurt you. We only came to ask you a question. Why are you attacking us?”

“The tiny man has my shawl! I must obey him?”

“Who is the tiny man? We can get your shawl back for you!”

Feruzi attempted to get around Chopper but he pushed her back without apparent effort. “Stop that. Please don’t make me make you hurt me.” Sefina sang to the water and an elemental answered her summons, gliding forward to grapple Reiko. Chopper made a face. “See, now what do you need me for?”

“There ARE three of them,” Sefina told him, pouting.

“That thing counts fer two, though!”

“What in Hells is happenin?!” Sandara complained. She flinched as Feruzi shot a volley of arrows at the elemental, disrupting it badly enough that it lost its shape.

“Oh, good,” Chopper said. “I might actually become necessary as a means of defense now.”

“I’m supposed to keep you all busy while the tiny man sets fire to the pirate lords’ ships! You’ll be disgraced if you can’t stop him!” Sefina cried mournfully. Reiko gave her a disgusted look. Feruzi attempted once again to get past Chopper, but he doggedly interfered. Not seeing any other alternative, she punched him.

“Dammit, Ruze!” Chopper grunted, staggering backward. Reiko darted past him and struck Sefina with the hilt of her sword, dazing the nereid.

“I’m sorry!” Reiko said reflexively. “We need to go now, guys!”

“How are we supposed to find him out there?” Feruzi asked, chasing after Reiko and catching up after only a few strides.

“We can’t do anything from this side of the cove, we need to get back to the fort.”

“I’ll sound the alarm,” Feruzi said, ducking her head and pushing into a full sprint, her long legs devouring the distance. Chopper and Sefina watched them go.

“It’s already begun,” Sefina said. “I don’t need to hold you here any longer. You should go while there’s still time.”

Feruzi was almost within shouting range of Nightmare Hold when the side of the Blood Moon exploded into a blaze of fire. She saw people up on the parapet were now clearly aware of the situation and turned toward the docks, freeing one of the rowboats for Reiko to use when she caught up and then diving into the water to swim toward the anchored ships. As she got closer, she saw the silhouette of a halfling clinging to the side of the Wavecrest and doing who-knew-what to the hull of the ship. Unfortunately, he spotted her and dissolved into a fluid form, leaving some kind of device behind.

Feruzi grabbed the side of the Wavecrest and hauled herself out of the water. “HEY!!” she bellowed in her best Master-at-Arms voice. “There’s a bomb on the side of the ship! Get some people down here NOW!!” Inquisitive heads looked over the side at her and she began cursing them viciously. “Signal the other ships, dammit! And where’s that bloody druid when you need him!”

Reiko, Chopper, and Sandara finally arrived at the docks. Reiko took charge of their allies from the fort, directing Pegsworthy and Tatsumi to blockade the harbor and sending everyone else to aid with the firefighting effort. Chopper took the oars of the loose rowboat and Reiko climbed in, still yelling instructions as they cast off for the Come What May, Cerise Bloodmourne’s ship, pausing only briefly to pick up the squelchy Feruzi. Reiko pointed: the translucent halfling was there, on the side of the Come What May, planting another bomb. Feruzi drew her bow, scowling at the water-filled quiver, and took a shot. The halfling looked up, yelped, and dove into the water.

All was now quiet. Mase Darimar helped the crew of the Blood Moon extinguish the last of the flames: the Wavecrest and Come What May were unscathed. Exhausted by all the excitement, Reiko, Chopper, and Feruzi returned to shore, where Ezikial was waiting.

“Got ’im,” Ezikial informed them.

“Succinct,” Chopper said. Ezikial led them to a hidden cellar that now contained an equally hidden alchemy lab. The halfling, now solid, lay on the floor in a bullet-riddled fashion.

“What was that all about, anyway?” Feruzi asked, baffled. Ezikial shrugged.

“Captain, sir, the pirate lords would like a word,” Conchobhar said. Cerise Bloodmourn, Avimar Sorrinash, and Mase Darimar were waiting with the Master of the Gales.

“Sorry for all the ruckus,” Chopper said.

Lady Bloodmourn grinned and tipped her hat. “Not at all. That, Captain Chopper, was a party.”

“Heh, thankee. Still, my apologies to Captain Sorrinash more’n the rest. Security breach was my own fault. Whatever reparations we can make fer the damages ta yer ship, we’ll do.” Avimar gave him a sharp, disgruntled nod.

“It is the decision of this committee that you will EACH be offered a seat on the Pirate Council,” Lady Bloodmourn said.

“Congratulations,” The Master of the Gales intoned. “I think that new blood is just what the Council needs.”

“Wait, what?” Feruzi asked.

“You are now on the Pirate Council, Miss Feruzi.”

“Sounds like a lot of extra work to me.”

“It’s not that much work,” Lady Bloodmourn said. “Hells, if I can do it . . .”

“Order!” Kerdak Bonefist growled, slamming his mug on the long oaken table in the Pirate Council chamber. “I call this meetin’ ter order! First order o’ business, increased shares fer tha Island o’ Empty Eyes crew. Cap’n Fairwind, yer speakin’ for, I believe.”

“Yes. It is my belief that our newest Council members have demonstrated their value and deserve a full share of the Sargavan tribute instead of remaining at a partial share,” Tessa said.

“Well I disagree!” Bonefist replied. “We all come ter this Council tha same way an’ should start off tha same, too!”

Reiko smiled demurely. “Respectfully, I must mention that there have never been four new Pirate Lords at the same time before. Together, we do form a sizeable voting interest.”

“Votes!” Bonefist called. Arronax, Delemona, the Master, and Tessa all raised their hands immediately, followed by a few others, more slowly. Chopper quickly tallied the votes before waving for his crew to abstain. The measure passed. Bonefist grumbled, then shrugged it off.

“Next order o’ business, Cap’n Bloodmourn’s proposal!”

“Yes, Lord. My proposal is that we use the tithe this year for the erection of statues in all the major ports of the Shackles to honor the anniversary of our Hurricane King’s prosperous reign! This will only increase the infamy of this court.”

The Master of the Gales stood. “The tithe has always gone for port defense and the improvement of the Shackles fleet—both undertakings that make certain our infamy is backed by more than just threats.” The other Captains seemed to agree with him, but shot uncomfortable glances at Bonefist.

“Not sayin’ as the Hurricane King’s visage mightn’t strike terror in the council’s enemies, but in me own experience, fools outweigh them as what would bow ta their fears,” Chopper said. Even with the opposition of the newest group of Pirate Lords, the measure still passed, but only by one vote.

“I’m not really sure how anyone could want to spend all that money on such frivolity,” Reiko said.

“That’s Bonefist for you,” Tessa told her. “You see why I wanted help on the Council.”

“Third order o’ business!” Bonefist announced. “Yer have tha floor, Cap’n Sorrinash.”

“With all the stories of the Isle of the Black Tower and the sword Aiger’s Kiss that is said to be lost in side, I want Ollo to be guranteed salvage rights over the island and its waters, as Ollo is the closest significant settlement.”

Jolis Raffles the halfling spoke up in opposition. “Salvage rights have always properly belonged to the ship making the salvage, not the closest settlement!”

Tessa leaned over so she could whisper to Reiko. “He’s still bitter because he made a similar request for a different island during the last council meeting, and was voted down.”

“Those who brave the perils should reap tha rewards, no?” Chopper said.

“I agree with Captain Chopper. If there are all these rumors going around, why haven’t you taken it upon yourself to break the tower already?” Reiko asked. Sorrinash’s growl was lost in the Hurricane King’s booming laughter. The motion was swiftly voted down.

“Motion denied,” Bonefist declared with barely-hidden glee. “Per Council Law, the Isle of the Black Tower stays finders-keepers, an’ no tithe to be paid from any plunder taken therein. Fourth order o’ business, Cap’n Massey.”

The big, quick-tempered, swaggering Captain took a cigar from his mouth as he stood. “Scags Rotgram has been engagin’ in unsanctioned piracy ’gainst Sargavan vessels,” he spat. “I call fer him an’ his ship ter be declared outlaw an a bounty of 5000 gold sails placed on his head.”

Bonefist growled. “How much did Harrigan pay ye ter waste th’ Council’s time wit this?”

Tessa whispered, “Rotgram was Harrigan’s first mate back in the day. This is likely some sort of revenge ploy.”

“If Scags be piratin’ against me former countrymen, I’ll be happy ta hunt ’im down free a charge to the council, and Harrigan can thank me fer the favor at an opportunity of his barnacle-encrusted choosing,” Chopper scoffed.

“Motion denied,” Bonefist decreed, not even bothering to call for a vote. “No bounty on Scags Rotgram. Floor’s yers, Tessie.”

“Yes,” she said, and went on to produce her lengthy research into the looming threat of a Chelish invasion and the possibility of a Chelish sympathizer and traitor being among the Pirate Lords. Arronax Endymion rose to his feet to demand Council support for further investigations, which drew a lot of grumbling suspicion about whether Endymion might be the traitor, himself.

“We have seen far too much evidence that Cheliax is gearing up for some kind of major offensive,” Feruzi said.

Reiko nodded. “I am sure whoever is involved in this would love for us to think Endymion is part of it. I agree with him on this matter and I would like to think that he would be most willing to assist us in finding the truth.”

“I am done trying to sway the Shackles with words,” Endymion grumbled. “Only deeds will make you believe.”

Bonefist called for a vote, and appeared surprised by the outcome. “Motion carries. Ye’ll get yer fundin’ an support, Tessie. All right, show’s over, I’m tired.” He heaved his bulk from the chair.

“We Do have seven more well, yes, there he goes. Bugger,” the Master muttered as Bonefist lurched out of the room.

When the officers returned to the Crisis, they found a silver raven with a message from Tessa Fairwind sitting on the port rail. “About 25 years ago, Captain Tevenida Aiger, after which the sword is named, led a raid on the Isle of the Black Tower, it’s mistress known as the Shrouded Queen. Captain Aiger was defeated but not without defeating the Queen at the same time. The Captains sword though, unfortunately, remained lost on the island, presumably in a black tower. Many people went after the lost treasure, but all have disappeared. Many people suspect that the Captain’s son also went after the sword and thus disappeared as well. Though some believe he may have just left the Shackles. The recent rumors are on the air are probably due to the fact that it’s the 25th anniversary of the incident.”

They briefly discussed what Fishguts knew of the history of the sword, then decided that retrieving it was important enough to pursue immediately. Three days later, they set foot on the Island of the Black Tower. The reason for its name was readily apparent—an impossible-looking tower of black stone sat at the small island’s center. It was barely thirty feet wide, but soared to an altitude of well over four hundred, giving it the approximate dimensions of a pin.

“No, that doesn’t look ominous at all,” Feruzi said.

“Well, we have experience with ominious,” Reiko said.

There was no apparent way into the tower, but when Feruzi scaled the stone for a better look she discovered that the roof was partially caved in, forming a bowl-shaped, rubble-filled cavity. It was no simple task to climb that height without magic, but once they were all up top they located a half-buried trap door among the rubble. Reiko and Chopper took sides and with a mighty heave the door came loose of the floor, revealing a curving stairway and walls carved with seemingly-endless coils of tentacles.

“Anyone else hungry for calamari about now?” Chopper asked as they descended. Occasional people, ships, or entire cities appeared amongst the coils, all savagely being crushed.

“Looks like Dagon,” Sandara said.

“Dragon?”

“DAY-gon. A demon lord, ‘e be. Prince o’ the sea, sea monsters, an’ deformity.”

“Gross,” was Chopper’s comment. “Wonder if any of his fans are still hereabouts.”

“Shoot them enough and we’ll be fine,” Ezikial said.

“Aye, if it bleeds, we can kill it.”

Patches of dull blue mold spotted the walls of the next chamber, partially obscuring a faded mural that depicted some sort of enormous amalgam of eel, fish, and cephalopod. Opposite the entrance a pair of rusty iron posts held up a wide gold-plated disc formed in the shape of a bulbous, fleshy eye. A wooden statue, now sadly decayed, faced the eye, clenching a fist-sized chunk of serpentine carved in the shape of a human heart. A reinforced door stood to the side, held closed by iron spikes. Someone had scrawled a crude warning over the door in charcoal. “She lives.” A smeared charcoal handprint served as punctuation.

“Innerestin,” Sandara said. “The mark belongs t’ a sect o holy assassins sworn ter Norgorber. I think ol’ Cap’n Aiger was one o’ them.”

“Now might be the time for explosions, Mister Hands,” Chopper said. Ezikial set his grenades and retreated, blasting the door to smithereens. The Eye shot a blast of vile-smelling water at Chopper, drenching him in magic that drained his will.

The group ducked through the door and down the stairs, finding another circular hall, this one housing a row of black iron candlesticks covered in the curdled remnants of foul-smelling tallow. A shallow alcove at the far wall held a serpentine statue carved in the semblance of a human male being devoured by tiny flesh-boring eels. The center of the statue’s chest was an empty hole.

“Do you think the heart from the hall above would fit in that statue?” Ezikial asked.

“Ooh, let’s find out,” Chopper announced, darting back up the stairs. The eye was now roving back and forth, ejecting more jets of enchanted filth. Feruzi saw Chopper readying to sprint across the room and shoved him out of her way, jinking and dodging past the great eye to snatch up the serpentine heart. She tossed it back to Chopper and the magical auras in the room faded. Chopper placed the heart in the statue and it slid easily aside, providing access to another stairway.

Huge, rotting draperies hung from the next chamber’s walls. A pair of monstrosities hovered in the room, masses of tentacles tangled around fanged mouths. Reiko hacked into one without hesitating, wounding it, but digestive acid spilled out and her clothes and exposed skin began to bubble and smoke.

“The floor is unstable,” Ezikial said, taking aim at the other beast. Chopper lobbed a throwing axe that bounced off the rubbery mass; a volley of bullets were more successful at disrupting it. The creatures began to writhe in a nauseating display, stirring up a cloud of noxious mold from the hangings and walls. Reiko reeled back and the first monstrosity pressed the advantage, tearing at her. Feruzi’s arrows distracted it for long enough that Reiko recovered and finished it off. The second, still dripping from Ezikial’s attacks, didn’t stand a chance.

Chopper examined the yellow mold cautiously. “Sunlight’d do it in, but that’s in short supply here,” he concluded. “Fire works, though.” They lit torches and burned a path through the growth to the stairs, discovering four emeralds in the eye sockets of a statue on the way. The next room held two eerie ivory statues on either side of a closed door—more human males that were bound, gagged and blindfolded. The statues were strangely moist, as if they were just pulled from the sea.

“This looks familiar,” Feruzi said.

“Does it?” Chopper asked.

“Aye, it looks like a good place for a grenade,” Ezikial grunted. Feruzi shook her head.

“These are the twins Maok and Seft, sons of Arot-Seb. Arot-Seb drowned them alive and drank the seawater from their lungs to receive the guidance of Dagon for his conquest of the Crystal Isles of Zyracia. My father likes to recite the epic sometimes.”

“Er . . . charming,” Chopper said.

“So, if I toss the grenade right in between them, in front of the door, what happens?” Ezikial insisted.

“Let’s call that ‘plan B’,” Chopper told him. Reiko studied the statues for a moment, then climbed up at one and began rotating its head. It moved freely, but nothing seemed to happen whatever position she put them in, so she shrugged and approached the door. A voice whispered in Abyssal and Reiko burst into a fit of coughing, although she did make it to the door. It was unlocked and opened to reveal yet another downward stair.

A jumble of bones held together by a decrepit suit of black leather armor slumped against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. The middle of the room was occupied by a massive circular trap door held shut by three lengths of heavy chain. Beside the skeleton was a black handprint and a few lines of scribbled text:

“The Shrouded Queen yet lives below, bound by Blackfingers’ forbiddance and Aiger’s Kiss. Seek not entrance for her rotting curse awaits ye. Let the slumbering darkness lie!”

“So, just guessing from our previous behavior, we’re not going to heed the warning and stop here, correct?” Feruzi asked. Ezikial grinned. "Do we at least have some kind of rotting curse repellent?

“Verily, I have remembered to bring my own repellent that I would be overjoyed to share with you,” Ezikial said, offering everyone his grenades.

“No thanks,” Feruzi told him. “I’d probably just set myself on fire. So how do we get the door open? Oh. Never mind.”

The chained and spiked trapdoor made a lovely explosion, revealing a smooth-walled shaft and a room far below. Ropes were brought out and they descended into a vaulted chamber with a lovely frieze of sea creatures intertwined with bones. A large stone altar overlooked a pool of stagnant water with a rather obvious sword stuck in the middle of it. A vast creature like an amalgam of bat, spider, and just plain ugly stirred as they slid down the ropes, flexing its tentacles in line with the overall Black Tower motif. It exuded a foul miasma that seemed to sap strength and will. So, they shot it.

Most of Feruzi’s arrows went wide, but one impacted somewhere in the folds of flesh. Ezikial had far better luck and the monstrosity howled and reared back on four leg-wings, lashing out at Reiko as she dropped down to menace it with her katana. Swinging wildly, Chopper also dropped, nearly landing on top of the demon, which shook him off disdainfully and leapt into the air, clawing and snapping at Ezikial until he fell to the ground, bloody but still in the fight. He jammed his pistol into the bloated, slimy mass of its body and pulled the trigger. The boom was muffled but gore exploded from the demon’s body and it fell. Chopper took one whiff and immediately pulled a scented candle out of his copious pockets. In the water, the sword beckoned.

“So is this a Chosen One type of deal?” Chopper asked. “Cos I ain’t certain we’ve the proper bona fides.”

“No clue,” Reiko said helpfully. “Probably not, though.”

“Well, let me shatter my soul against it, then you can pull it free and we can be on our way,” Chopper told her. Ezikial rolled his eyes and waded into the pool, grasping the hilt and giving it a good tug. No budging was in evidence. In the end, it took Reiko, Ezikial, and Chopper heaving mightily to de-wedge Aiger’s Kiss from the floor. The water drained away into the tiny hole left behind by the sword’s removal.

Reiko shook her head. “Perhaps we should leave now?”

Getting out was not a great deal more difficult than getting in, although removing the other valuables took some time. They rested on the beach, Ezikial taking out Aiger’s Kiss to get a better look at it.

“Sorrinash is going to be pissed,” Feruzi remarked. “So, who wants to leave a big sign on the beach for him?”

“I actually had Conchobar working on that before we left,” Chopper told her. They made their way down to where they’d left the boat, only to find a tall blond man leaning against it. A second boat lay nearby, surrounded by surly armed pirates.

“Parley?” the man said, bowing with rather more flourish than was probably justified.

“Uh, granted,” Chopper announced.

“Excellent. Captain Valerande Aiger at your service. Better known as . . . Barracuda.”

“This is Captain Chopper,” Feruzi said, pointing at that noteworthy. “Better known as Captain Chopper.”

“I . . . see. I can only assume you’ve come from the Black Tower. If you’ve recovered my mother’s blade, I must demand you turn it over to me as my rightful inheritance. Or face my wrath.”

“You want a kiss, you can fight your own chaos beast for it,” Chopper announced.

“It is quite unbecoming not to retrieve it yourself,” Reiko added. “Or did you just give up trying, because it was too hard?”

“If ye want to inherit it, ye might see if Reiko will adopt ye, but I ain’t givin’ good odds on that one,” Chopper said, smirking.

Valerande laughed and his pirates relaxed. “Perhaps we can negotiate for the blade, then. The pride of recovering it would still be yours, of course.”

“Eh, anything’s possible,” Chopper said. “The Shackles be a strange place.”

“I am willing to offer you the contents of my ship’s hold. The Wanton Wastrel’s taken many fine prizes of late, and I feel that this will be our year. I might even be willing to trade a magical item or two, depending.”

“I have another thought,” Reiko said. “But I’d like to discuss it with my Captain first.”

“But of course.”

“Arr, plunder we have, and magical trinkets aplenty,” Chopper began, then coughed violently. “Scuse me. Arr. Arr. Arr. Sorry. Watcha got, first mate?”

“I think we should offer to let Valerande wield the sword—provided he joins our fleet against the Chelish forces and uses the sword to our advantage in that fight,” Reiko proposed. Chopper nodded thoughtfully. “I also think we should turn over the sword to him at the upcoming meeting of our forces.”

“I like this plan. Let’s do it.”

Barracuda was amenable to the terms. The Wastrel and the Crisis both weighed anchor and left the environs of the Black Tower. The Crisis sailed on to Ollo so they could sell their plunder and purchase supplies. The ship was approached by a man who was present at the pirate council, but not a part of the deliberations. He introduced himself as Chambros Egrossa, first mate of the Tyrannous. Arronax Endymion’s ship.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Chambros said when Chopper appeared. "My Captain would like to speak with you aboard his ship.

Chopper shrugged. “I’m amenable.”

“Excellent. He gave me this purse, as a show of good faith,” Chambros added, passing it over.

“Very gracious.”

Captain Endymion met them in the map room aboard the Tyrranous. “Greetings to you, Pirate Lords.” Oddly, the hard-faced old Captain seemed worried and distracted. “I thank you for agreeing to meet me. I know you have many demands on your time, so I will come straight to the point. You and your ally, Lady Fairwind, have been rooting around for Chelish conspirators.”

“Indeed.”

“And you have doubtless heard that I am one of those conspirators as a result. I assure you, though, that nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I thought such accusations seemed a bit too . . . obvious,” Chopper drawled.

“My hatred for Cheliax and her devil-besotted fools is deeper than the loathing of anyone in the Shackles. I appreciate your trust. Yet you must understand, these rumors persist. In fact, they’ve been spreading of late in my own home port of Hell Harbor.”

Reiko nodded. “Well then, we should be in a hurry to uncover the truth behind these rumors. The true conspirators and spies. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do, Ms Nakayama. I cannot directly move against the source of this latest campaign of falsehoods against me, but if you do if you teach these slanderers a lesson-I’ll reward you with a squadron of my finest warships. Which, I am sure, you’ll find most useful in the days ahead.”

“Sold,” Chopper announced.

“There is a small group of exiled Chelish performers who’ve purchased a seaside tavern that they use as a cover for their campaign against me. Their performances are quite popular, and by the time I realized it was they who were slandering me, any overt move I make against them would only martyr them and ‘prove’ my guilt. Since it would look like I was attempting to crush those attempting to get the truth out.”

“I think we can handle that,” Reiko said.

“Excellent. Find proof of their work against me—or, at least, proof that they’re Chelish agents. And, if you find no such proof, then no harm is done. Hell Harbor has no shortage of entertainers.”

The Theater of Corruption in Hell Harbor was run by a trio of Chelish expatriates who performed abstract reworkings of ancient Chelish plays. The disturbing operatic comedies featured dark fiends as protagonists and mortal antagonists who embroiled themselves in sins and deviltry, suffering ironic losses, deformities, and often damnation. It was difficult to know whether the patrons enjoyed these themes or whether they simply loved the scandalous reputation of the establishment.

The Crisis officers spread out around the broad, single-story building, constructed on piles over the waters of Hell Harbor in search of side entrances. Feruzi had approached the doors when she was interrupted by a loud “Oi!” from around the corner.

“Don’t you ‘oi’ me!” she snapped. A heavily armored guard approached her.

“You need to move on, there. This buildin’s under the personal protection of Lord Endymion hisself!”

“And what, exactly, did you think I was about to do to said building?”

“Don’t matter, girlie. Get thee gone.”

“How do I even know you work for Endymion?”

“Do we even care?” Ezikial grunted from his position further up the street. He took a swig from his flask.

“Well, no,” Feruzi said, " but I don’t appreciate people trying to tell me what to do."

“It don’t matter if I work for Asmodeus hisself. This is yer last warnin. Leave.”

“Ooh, my last warning. Now I’m scared,” Feruzi said. “Whatever shall I . . .” she punched the guard in his ugly mug and was surprised to discover no real resistance. Chopper charged out of the shadows and whacked the so-called guard upside the head, or tried to, he passed right through the illusion, which vanished, accompanied by the sound of mocking, ethereal laughter.

“Bloody witchcraft!” Chopper growled. Feruzi clambered onto the roof of the building, not immediately finding any other enemies. There was a loud thumping noise as Reiko assaulted the door, battering it open in a matter of moments. Ezikial and Chopper, still on the pier, were hit by a wave of unholy energy. A devil, sporting a rather dangerous-looking beard, shimmered into view and attacked.

“Lord Endymion sends his regards, fools,” it cackled. “Now die!”

“Eh, probably not,” Chopper said, fending off the devil’s assaults. Feruzi shot it, dealing some damage while Reiko drew her sword to deal with a wild-eyed, bloodstained man who punched at her with his bare hands. Somewhere inside the building a powerful soprano began to belt out a Chelish opera. The bare-knuckle fighter proved to be a powerful adversary, pummeling Reiko without mercy. Someone from inside the building cast a spell on him which only served to make him more ferocious.

Ezikial raised his pistols and blew the devil away, removing one distraction as the sound of spellcasting came again from inside the building. Reiko dealt the berserker brawler a hideous blow, but he laughed and bellowed a challenge at her as the wound was largely healed by a powerful spell.

Blocked from assisting Reiko, the other three officers and Sandara hurried toward the main doors. Ezikial blasted the lock and they rushed into a dimly-lit hall with excellent acoustics that seemed to be amplifying whatever bardic magic was taking place. Sandara threw a spell into the far corner, removing the illusion that concealed one of the attackers. She looked like a skeleton wrapped in a woman’s translucent flesh. A tiefling and a Chelish diva were also gathered in the corner, overseeing the fight.

Reiko drew her short sword and engaged the berserker in a flurry of attacks, ending by slicing through his arms and impaling him in the neck with her wakizashi. Slowly, seeming not to believe he was dead, he fell to the floor. The Chelish diva cursed and quickly cast a spell, vanishing from sight.

“Dimension door,” Sandara said. “She’s outta here.” The remaining spellcasters similarly vanished. A search of the theater fortunately uncovered some evidence that they were, indeed, Chelish spies.

Overall, not the best result. Even so, Endymion was happy to contribute his ships to the gathering fleet preparing to face the Chelish offensive.

Alise pointed the Crisis officers to a gap in the rocks on the other side of the island that opened into a vast cathedral-like cavern packed with derelict ships. Despite the shifting of the tide, the greenish water stank of death. Only a few rays of sunlight penetrated the murk. Four of the ships were in an identifiable condition. The largest was the Devilish Duchess. Another, with sleek lines and cannon ports, was named the Black Marlin. The other two were the Pinkbelly and the Undaunted.

Ezikial looked ecstatic. Well, ecstatic for him. “Cannon,” he announced, leading the way over the wrecks toward the Marlin. Chopper glanced over the side to see the decayed bones of a dozen ships and ten times that many men. Dark shapes moved in the shadows and sprang to the attack, one charging straight into Reiko’s blade and nearly splitting itself in twain. Ezikial followed up with a hail of pistol shot, but the elder undead still came on, raking with their diseased claws at anyone to slow to give way. Bleeding, now, Chopper distracted a second and Feruzi shot it through the head, yet still it came on. This was beginning to look like something less than an easy fight. Reiko ducked under a claw and completed the twain-splitting of the first one. It dissolved into acid, splashing her and mixing with the blood already liberally streaming from her wounds.

Sandara channeled divine energy, healing some of the wounds and burning the undead, and slowly the battle turned. Chopper’s axe split the head of the second brykolakas while Ezikial and Feruzi shot the third sufficiently full of holes to reduce it to dripping acid. The last remaining monster showed no signs of fear, clawing away until Reiko decapitated it, getting one last dose of foul liquid in the bargain.

“It’s really rude of them to explode AFTER we kill them,” Feruzi complained, wiping ineffectually at the acid spots.

“Thass th’ undead,” Sandara said. “Inconsiderate numpties th’ lot ovem.”

The ships proved to have some valuable plunder intact, and on the Devilish Duchess they located a small hidden panel in a beam just above a moldering hammock, containing some coins, bottles, and a leather journal. A brief thumb through the volume revealed it as a detailed accounting of Scags Rotgram’s grievances against his former captain, Barnabas Harrigan. The latter portion was an elaborate plan to invade Harrigan’s fortress and assassinate him—complete with maps, charts, and heavy annotation of defenses.

“Money,” Chopper announced.

“Far be it from us to deny Rotgram’s final wishes,” Feruzi said.

Ezikial was not to be pulled away from the Black Marlin. “Even if we leave the rest we should take this one, Captain. Extended keel, narrow hull . . . she’ll be fast and maneuverable and tough.”

“You might want to wipe your chin there, Zeke,” Feruzi said dryly.

“I don’t mind, but do we have to take it today?” Chopper asked.

“Sooner is better, Captain.”

“Put some people on it. It’s what we do now. Delegate.”

A great deal of back-breaking work followed, but they managed to float the Marlin on the 2 a.m. tide and take her in tow behind Crisis. Leila spent the time examining Rotgram’s charts and identified the most likely location of Harrigan’s hideout.

“He’s here on Gannet Island, about thirty-six miles west of the Smoker. Rotgram also explains how to get past the sea serpent that guards the island.”

“Shoot it a lot?” Feruzi offered. “Just a wild guess, mind you.”

“Er, no,” Leila said. “Well, perhaps. But it says here that Harrigan has a pet witch who controls the beast. When ships come to the island they bang large gongs and drop a freshly butchered bull over the side as an offering. The serpent has been trained not to attack anyone who performs the ritual. There is also a sea cave under the island that serves as an escape route. Rotgram planned to approach the island underwater . . . though he doesn’t say how . . . and enter the cave at high tide to sneak into the fortress. Finally, he mentions that Harrigan’s quarters are on the third floor. Attacking from above could also be an option, but the entire complement of guards could come to his aid.”

“Only if he has more guards than I have arrows,” Feruzi smirked.

“It seems Rotgram was very serious about his plans,” Reiko said.

“So, it seems we have a decision to make,” Conchobhar said. “Do we attack Harrigan now or return to help defend our island from his attack?”

“More’n Harrigan are against us,” Chopper said. Knowledge and defense be my leanin’."

“Shall I plot a course for home, Captain?” Leila asked.

“Aye.”

“So, if the bastard didn’t bother comin’, what’s he up to, eh?” Chopper demanded of the Wormwood officer, a Varisian man named Bintrim Whist.

“Doloruso said Harrigan was sure his fleet would crush you.”

“He was mistaken,” Feruzi said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what does he have let at his disposal?” Reiko asked.

“Just what he’s got left at his fortress. He’s there now with no real way to escape and just the great serpent defending the harbor.”

“What, Fluffy?” Chopper asked.

“I don’t know its name, sir.”

“Are ye thick? I jus’ told you.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Sorry, sir. I just know about the gong and the bull.”

“Sure, sure,” Chopper muttered.

Eventually, the disorganized aftermath of the battle was sorted out, with the allied and captured ships anchored at the Island. Saburo was the only allied captain seriously injured—he went overboard and nearly drowned. Everyone else was banged up to some degree, but no one was seriously dead so a celebration seemed to be in order. In the morning, the Crisis officers reconvened to discuss matters.

“Now we can use the secret way to creep up on that coward Harrigan,” Chopper said straight off.

“Or we could just return in the Wormwood and make him think he succeeded,” Reiko offered.

“I like Reiko’s idea,” Feruzi said. “I want to vote for that one. Although his first mate may have teleported back there and reported failure already.”

Reiko shrugged. “I doubt it. Harrigan would likely kill her for deserting her post.”

“Mmph,” Feruzi grumbled. “Part of me keeps worrying that is some kind of elaborate plot, but then I remember that Harrigan isn’t that smart.”

“Indeed.”

“Fetch out that map again!” Chopper ordered. They all leaned over his shoulders (or snuck in under his arm, in Reiko’s case) to squint at the parchment.

“Torture pit?” Feruzi asked, pointing.

“An’ a shrine to WHO, ’zactly?” Sandara demanded.

“Dunno,” said Chopper. “Never heard Harrigan say any prayers.”

“It’s probably a shrine to himself,” Feruzi said. Sandara and Conchobhar laughed.

“THAT I can see,” Chonchobhar snorted. “Like I was standing there right now.”

Reiko’s plan was finally adopted. Fishguts produced a really juicy bull and a large brass gong from who knew where and they set off aboard the Wormwood for Gannet Island. It wasn’t much of an island, to be sure, consisting mostly of a rocky outcrop surrounded by smaller shoals that made navigation rather difficult. Fortunately, again, they had a map. Rosie banged the gong with rather more vigor than was probably called for as Fishguts slaughtered the bull and, with some assistance, heaved the carcass overboard, sniffling a few times at the sad waste of prime steak. They anchored the Wormwood in the cove without incident. Feruzi cast a few spells, rendering the recognizable officers invisible, and Birtrim Whist had some of the Wormwood’s crew row them ashore.

An octogonal tower loomed above them. The drawbridge was down, spanning a dry gulch before the walls, but the doors were shut and looked as if they intended to stay that way. Whist waved at the tower. “Welp, we’re back.” A guard poked his head over the edge of the parapet.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“Repairing the ship. We thought Harrigan would want to hear our report right away.”

There was a long pause as the guards conferred in hushed tones. They didn’t seem terribly convinced. Reiko leaned forward and whispered to Whist, making him jump. “Be more convincing from now on.”

“It’s not exactly my strong suit, now is it?”

The sound of the heavy wooden bar being levered out boomed from the doors and they creaked open. Two more guards edged out of the way, allowing the landing party into the fortress. The courtyard was choked with weeds and filth. To the southeast, a wooden platform sat on the ground in the corner of the surrounding wall. A winch and crane provided the mechanism to raise and lower the platform to the walkway twenty feet above. A very large, smelly humanoid leaning against the wall suddenly raised a pair of massive axes. “Smell intruders!” it bellowed. Feruzi shot it, dispelling the invisibility.

“Stop them from activating that winch!” she said. Ezikial dove forward and slashed the winch cable, grabbing the end of the rope and sailing through the air in true swashbuckler fashion. He landed neatly atop the walkway above and drew his pistols. A furious combat ensued. The scrag was laid low by Reiko’s trusty katana, but the double doors behind it flew open, revealing a replacement scrag and an additional bonus scrag that, fortunately or un, walked directly into another fusillade of arrows and was instantly rendered nonfunctional.

More guards charged Ezikial along the walkway, to Ezikial’s delight. He emptied his pistols into the first one while below, Chopper charged the remaining scrag, distracting it long enough for Reiko to sever some reasonably vital appendages. A fourth and final scrag put in its appearance, whacking Reiko in the back with its axe and causing some unpleasant effects to be realized. While Reiko was busy cussing, Feruzi stole her kill, finishing off the damaged scrag and wounding the other. Above them, gunfire and a rain of bodies continued as Ezikial went on amusing himself. Sandara rushed forward to heal Reiko while Chopper dispatched the fourth and final scrag. The fighters down below then realized that the courtyard had filled up with a number of Harrigan’s men while they were occupied.

Feruzi blinked at them. “Oh, are you still attacking us?” she asked. “I nearly forgot you were there. You may go.” Chopper snorted. He was about to utter a snappy rejoinder when a tengu appeared in the northern doorway, pointing a scimitar directly at Chopper.

“You!” the Tengu squawked. “You can run but you can’t hide!”

Chopper flapped his axe excitedly. “Oh wow! A talking birdman! JOIN MY CREW!”

Reiko and Feruzi tackled the mass of smugglers as Chopper went mano e mano with the tengu. After about two seconds the five remaining smugglers—clearly outnumbered by the two women—attempted to retreat back through the doors. They were joined by their own women who were dressed in the obligatory robes of some cult or another.

“Seriously, you should join us,” Chopper said as the sound of grenades exploding echoed across the courtyard. “The benefits are great!”

“My captain will reward me when I bring him your head!” squawked the Tengu. A seemingly endless stream of blows and banter followed until both of them were covered and blood and barely on their feet. Reiko dispatched the last cultist just as Chopper fell to one knee, too faint to continue. Feruzi shook her head and shot the Tengu straight through the heart.

The courtyard was theirs. Ezikial surveyed the carnage with a happy grin.

Finding themselves in command of the courtyard, the Crisis officers climbed up to the gallery and entered what appeared to be a warehouse, occupied by numerous crates, boxes, barrels, chests, and a multi-legged, multi-eyed beast waving sharp claws. Ezikial promptly shot it and it staggered, wavering. Chopper shrugged and buried his axe at a point roughly equidistant from its numerous eyes, eliminating the threat before Reiko and Feruzi could even raise their weapons.

“Well, I mean, I get the appeal of finishing things off so quickly,” Chopper said, retrieving his axe, “but where is the pageantry?”

Feruzi smirked. “It’s about time you boys handled something on your own,” she said. Reiko nodded.

“I couldn’t agree more. It’s nice to avoid the explosion of internal organs all over me for once.”

“The thunder of my guns and the spraying blood are enough for me,” Ezikial said, reloading his pistols.

The door on the western side of the warehouse was locked—Chopper kicked it and six spikes shot out, impaling his leg.

“Oof!” he announced as Sandara rushed forward with a healing spell. “Door kicked me back. Ruse, can you witch it open?”

“Er, no.”

“If only we ‘ad someone good at blowin’ up locks . . .” Sandara said unsubtly. Ezikial pulled out a grenade.

“Shall I?”

“Fire in th’ hole!” Sandara added helpfully.

The explosion rattled the warehouse and the door was reduced to expedient splinters. They rifled through the rest of that floor without finding anything too terribly interesting, then mounted the stairs. Or tried to: the doors above opened and four pale-skinned, dark-winged women wearing not many clothes but wielding more than enough weapons to make up for it charged them. Two of them fired flaming arrows at Ezikial, the other attacked Reiko with a flaming rope that coiled as of its own volition. The fourth erinyes cast a spell and a miasma of cold, greasy darkness rolled over them.

Chopper shouted and charged, wielding his axes. “Put on some clothes, ye harlot,” he growled as he fenced with the spellcaster. Ezikial shot that one and, without a pause, continued on to the next. Reiko shook her head.

“Why am I even here today?” she asked.

“Because it takes me a while to reload,” Ezikial grunted. Feruzi fired up the stairs, downing a third devil while Reiko attempted to disentangle herself from the rope.

“HARRIGAN, COME OUT AND PLAY!” Ezikial roared. Sandara channeled divine energy, burning the remaining erinyes, and Ezikial finished her off. The east door, behind them, opened and the familiar, painful sound of a Chelish opera sung by a powerful, piercing soprano filled the room.

“Oh, not this again,” Feruzi said, wincing. The diva strode into the warehouse and cast a spell at Reiko, who didn’t seem particularly overcome.

“Yer flat,” Chopper announced as a bolt of lightning hit Feruzi in the chest and arced, singing everyone except Chopper. Ezikial cringed as phantasmal magic struck at him, but he shook it off. Harrigan suddenly appeared next to the Chelish diva, the skulls on his armor howling fearsomely. He struck at Feruzi, who didn’t quite dodge in time. Reiko drew her katana and cleaved the Diva while Chopper attacked Harrigan.

“Besmara calls for your blood,” Ezikial growled.

“Then come an’ take it, Mister Hands,” Harrigan growled back.

“I believe that I shall.” Ezikial’s bullets punched holes in Harrigan’s flesh. Doloruso, the spellcaster, appeared behind Harrigan and threw a spray of prismatic energy over Feruzi and Sandara, both of whom vanished in a blast of violet light.

“What the what?!” Chopper demanded. Reiko growled and shifted her grip, drawing her short sword with her off-hand. With a flurry of blows, she assailed the diva who fell dead at her feet. Chopper cheered happily but was cut off by Harrigan’s equally furious assault. Ezikial’s pistols thundered once more as Chopper forced Harrigan back, and with a hiss of rage that ended in a spray of blood, the former master of the Wormwood finally met his end.

“You can’t stop what’s coming!” he gasped as he expired.

Doloruso blinked. “I yield!” she announced. “No more, I beg of you!”

The translucent, ghostly face of Nightshade appeared. “Traitor,” she hissed, casting a spell at Doloruso, who recoiled.

“My allegiance was always a temporary convenience,” Doloruso said. Nightshade began to cast another spell, but Reiko leaped forward, severing both her arms at the wrist. With a shriek, Nightshade expired.

“I accept your surrender,” Chopper said. “So does Mister Hands.”

“Oh, thank the Black Queen.”

“And Feruzi isn’t here to gainsay me, either. So, where IS she, exactly?”

“Not to mention Sandara as well,” Reiko said, feeling her burns.

“They caught the violet ray of my prismatic spray, so they must have been sent to another plane of existence,” Doloruso said.

“That could be problematic,” Reiko mused.

“Your cleric can probably bring them back . . . assuming they ended up in the same place.”

“What did Harrigan mean by ’what’s coming’?” Chopper asked.

“Cheliax is planning an invasion. They told Harrigan they would make him the Governor once they’d taken over.”

Searching Harrigan’s effects revealed a great deal of information about this proposed invasion, as well as a secret entrance to Fort Hazard created by a previous Hurricane King. They also discovered Peppery Longfarthing and Habbly Quarne in the prison, victims of Harrigan’s wrath.

“Secure the prisoners and contact the crew,” Chopper announced. “We’re getting off this rock. Feruzi and Sandara will have to fend for themselves. They should be up for it.”

Leila shuffled through Harrigan’s papers as they made way toward Port Peril, racing to warn the Pirate Council of the imminent Chelish invasion. “Has anyone noticed that this invasion plan seems to call for the Chelish armada to sail directly through the Eye of Abendego?”

“That’s crazy talk,” Feruzi said.

“Damn it,” Chopper complained. “I wanted to be the crazy one to suggest that.”

“Witchcraft?” Sandara offered. Chopper smirked.

“You, I like.”

They arrived in Port Peril in a cold, drizzling rain. The harbor was crammed with the flagships of pirate lords who, having received notification from the captured Wormwood, wanted to be on-hand for this meeting. Kerdak Bonefist called the meeting to order.

“There’s only one agenda item on this meetin’s schedule: this threat of a Chelish invasion. Cap’n Chopper ’as tha floor. Convince me.”

“Welp, we have a fat lotta paperwork that sez Harrigan was treasonous scum instead of, you know, the regular kind. Also, that the Chelish fleet thinks they can sail through the Eye this time. So, that’s different. It don’t mention how. Was hopin’ mebbe the Master of the Gales could shed some light,” Chopper declared.

The druid looked a little surprised at this request, but only for a moment. “A ‘blessing’ from their infernal masters would seem the most likely explanation.”

“Ah. So. Water devils. That’s a thing. Huh.” Chopper said. “Point is, if the Chelish fleet be on its way by unconventional means, we have far less time fer the usual smash ‘n’ grab that has been enjoyed in times past. I don’t fancy wakin’ up without me trousers and a randy fiend creepin’ up behind.” Sorrinash and a few of the rowdier pirate lords laughed until Bonefist glared them down.

“That’s odd, because you seemed to enjoy it pretty well that one time,” Feruzi said blandly into the restless silence.

Chopper shrugged. “I mean to keep a sharp eye on the . . . well the Eye, regardless o’ what me fellow Council members have a mind t’do. I reckon we can bloody ‘em some before they sink us, but will it be enough to stop ’em running roughshod over the rest of the Shackles? This don’t strike me as a half measure, ladies and gents.”

“Is there any possibility of counteracting their magic or whatever it is?” Feruzi asked. “The Eye would do most of the work for us in that case.”

“Calm yerselves,” Bonefist grunted. “There ain’t no devil magic at work here. Papers don’t make nothin’ true.”

Ezikial abruptly stood up. “Are you, then, so old and tired that you would rather close your eyes to what is happening so you can drool into your feather pillow in mindless comfort? Are you truly so daft, or are you a pirate lord of the Shackles?”

Bonefist growled. “Yer father was a brother-in-arms ter me, Besmara rest ‘is soul. That, an’ that alone, is the reason I don’t have ye flayed alive here an’ now. Erryone pay heed. No matter who forged these here papers hopin’ ter draw us inter an attack on an old enemy—even supposin this threat is real, I reminds ye that meetin’ the Chelaxians on th’ open sea only plays ter Cheliax strengths an’ concentration o’ force, ‘specially their teleportin’ diabolic allies. Free Captains do best in battle wi’ small strikes, or from defensive positions.”

Feruzi leaned over and whispered to Chopper, " Did he say ‘forged’?" Chopper nodded.

“If this threat is real and not some farcical invention by untested Lords and Ladies eager to cast a disparigin’ light upon their rival Harrigan—who they obviously feel deserves more humiliation than mere defeat can offer—let those devils try their hands against our ports after they have endured the wrath of Abendego isself!”

Chopper thumped the table after Bonefist finished his surly monologue. “By the powers, yer right. Surprise is a key strategy for men and women such as ourselves.”

Bonefist relaxed a little, eyeing Chopper carefully. “Aye.”

“So, I ask you, what could be more surprising to the Chelish fleet than to find—for the first time in recorded history—the entirety of the Shackles power in one place, ready to meet them just as they escape the storm. As you say, whatever their powers they’ll be worn down by Abendego and therein will lie our key advantage. If ye have no reason to take our word for it, look t’ yer own information sources. Ye’d be fools to take anything’ said at this Council at face value. And yer not fools.”

“Enough!” Bonefist bellowed. “Me mind’s made up. Lords o’ tha Council, make ready yer squadrons fer when they be needed, but mark me words, what emerges from th’ northern storm will be in no shape to take e’en a single atoll.” He glared down the table. “ANY captains who sail north on this fool’s errand might well find themselves branded traitors agin tha Shackles, ’specially if this be just a ruse ter distract our defenses.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you proved right, of course,” Chopper said, bowing. “Me, I’m sailing north.”

“And those that value their lands and freedom should consider doing the same,” Reiko added.

“Not to mention those who value not letting us have ALL the plunder,” Feruzi continued.

Chopper stood, surveying the gathered Pirate Council, then turned and walked out.

“Erryone’s life is his ter throw away,” Bonefist growled. “This Council be dismissed.”

A few hours later, as they were transferring their equipment from the Wormwood to the Crisis, a number of pirate lords—some under their own initiative, others at Reiko’s invitation—convened. Lady Fairwind, Cerise Bloodmourne, Arronax Endymion and the Master of the Gales all accepted cups of grog and settled down to chat.

“I remain in your debt after you cleared my name,” Endymion began. “My personal squadron is yours to command. After your victory over Harrigan’s armada, I am comfortable deferring to your expertise.”

“I have long feared that Drenchport would be the first target of a Chelish invasion,” the Master rumbled. “Your timetable confirms my fear. As a result, I have left my ships at Drenchport. I will gladly offer you my personal aid, though.”

“Ooh, Druid spells!” Feruzi enthused. Chopper quirked an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Don’t even think of saying that word,” she added.

“Huh? Oh. Witchcraft. Right. Doesn’t apply. He and nature have an understanding.”

“My squadron is with you, too,” Tessa said. “And if, no, when we win I will certainly support you in any bid to make for rule of the Shackles.”

Chopper blinked.

“I think we may be able to get a few of the other Free Captains on board with that,” Reiko said as if this were the most natural notion in the world."

Cerise snickered. “Pity ye’ve no taste fer rule yerself, Tess.”

“Bonefist stays locked away in Fort Hazard for weeks at a time. I still have the love of the open sea in my heart.”

“Just because you have his job doesn’t mean you have to do it the way he does,” Feruzi said.

“True, true. But I still don’t want the job. Not as badly as some of you might,” Fairwind said, winking at Chopper.

“Well, that is not something that needs to be decided at this point in time,” Reiko said.

“But we are agreed that a change in leadership is needed,” Endymion said.

“For now, I think it prudent to make ready for an early morning departure. Thank you all for coming tonight,” she said, bowing to the other pirate Captains, who made their way off the Crisis and toward their own ships.

“Are you seriously considering making a bid for Pirate King?” Feruzi asked, eyeing Chopper.

“Yes. It’s perfect. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I came out to sea to do what I could to lessen the hold of the Shackles over Sargava.”

“Ah. I was rather looking forward to, you know, settling down.”

“And you should do what your heart tells you. This has been my dream for a long time. I just never expected an opportunity to fast track it to present itself so readily.”

“I’m just worried about someone stabbing you in the back if you don’t have anyone to look after you. There are just as many people who dislike you as adore you. And if this Chelish thing comes off there will be even more.”

“Well, there’s always Mister Hands. He would be murderously annoyed, I think, should I come to harm.”

“Mm. We’ll worry about that when it happens, I suppose.”

After some further gathering of forces, it was decided for the combined Shackles Fleet (Unofficial) to assemble near Hell Harbor. The numerous spellcasters distributed through the pirate fleet exercised their scrying magic, and the great invasion fleet of Cheliax did not disappoint.

“Shoot them harder than they shoot us!” Chopper crowed, waving vigorously at his crew. There were over forty enemy ships, including the easily-recognizable Dominator. “Oh, hey, those guys!” Chopper continued in undiminished good spirits.

“Don’t get hurt,” Feruzi told Pegsworthy severely as he prepared to disembark for his own vessel. “Well, unless it’s absolutely necessary. But even then, go for more of a flesh wound.”

“Of course, dear. Even those devil worshippers don’t deserve YOUR vengeance.”

“That’s right. Best to be merciful.”

“Looks like we have plenty of targets, at least,” Ezikial grunted. “Captain, may I sink them?”

“Well, I suppose,” Chopper said. “Just don’t expect a birthday present.”

“We should at least give them a chance to surrender,” Feruzi said. “Since our forces are so clearly superior.”

“It’s all about quality, not quantity. Still, I would not suggest holding your breath,” Reiko told her.

As the Crisis grew closer to the Chelish fleet, a squadron of flying devils suddenly appeared in the air. Reiko pulled out her new bow and began shooting. The arrows seemed to connect, but Reiko shook her head. “These are not real,” she announced.

“Good,” Chopper said, drawing his axes and scanning the sky. Five more devils appeared as they launched their attack. The apparent leader of the devils tossed a feather token to the deck, causing the Crisis to shudder and slow violently as the magical anchor weighed her down. “Fucking WITCHCRAFT!” Chopper complained violently. The four remaining devils charged Reiko and Ezikial, vomiting noxious clouds while swinging their polearms.

“Forget to use your mouthwash this morning?” Reiko asked. A positive hail of bullets, arrows, axe and katana blows followed until the Crisis officers were bleeding freely and the devils were all reduced to something akin to paste. With the assault temporarily in abeyance Sandara dispelled the anchor token and distributed some healing.

“As if devils weren’t bad enough, we get stinky devils,” Feruzi grumped, collecting her spent arrows.

“Are we taking on the Dominator, Captain?” Ezikial asked.

“Well, it’d be rude not to, don’tcha think? Personal service and all that.”

“I am in agreement,” Ezikial replied with an evil grin. “Make sure we’re all loaded, Rosie!” They began making way again, but in the scrum it looked as though the Bonaventure would close with the Dominator long before the Crisis was in any position to be of assistance. Chopper shook his fist in that direction.

“Save some for us!”

“Looks like their flagship over here,” Ezikial said. “Abrogail’s Fury.”

“Fine, fine, we’ll do that one.”

“Bring me to within 600 feet of their wheel and I’ll take it from them,” Ezikial said.

“That, I can do,” Reiko told him, resuming her place as pilot.

The Bonaventure abruptly changed course, forcing the Dominator into a slow turn that brought her weapons out of line, leaving the Chelish dreadnought vulnerable to a devastating volley from one of Endymion’s warships. Ezikial shrieked in glee as the Dominator was holed at the waterline and began sinking with impressive speed. The Crisis gained on Abrogail’s Fury, seeking an advantageous angle for attack. Four more devils appeared on the Crisis, serpentine fiends with frail-looking wings and muscular arms that terminated in masses of tentacles.

These devils moaned and an expanding coldness filled the air with a murky heaviness like drowning. The crew coughed and choked as Ezikial and Feruzi fired, killing one of the devils and wounding a second. Chopper and Reiko struggled against the magical fugue while the fiends attempted to summon reinforcements, but they were interrupted by yet more persistent axes, bullets, katanas, etc. and shortly the deck was devil-free once more, leaving them free to continue closing with the sleek, black-hulled man’o’war that was leading the Chelish fleet. Her sails were crimson and black and the flag of House Thrune flew from the masthead above a banner emblazoned with an argent dagger.

“So Admiral Thrune herself has come to take the Shackles. How nice of her,” Reiko said.

“An’ how’s that workin’ out fer ’er?” Rosie aske.

“I’ll let you know shortly,” Reiko told her.

Grapeshot and chain bolts peppered the rigging of Abrogail’s Fury and Ezikial’s signature shot blasted the wheel to splinters. The Chelish flagship returned fire, severely denting the hull of Crisis and knocking the sails askew—Crisis slammed keel-first into the side of the Fury and seemed to skid, staving in the black ship’s hull. Both ships rolled on the swell, no longer making way. The Crisis officers jumped across to the Fury and were met by a force of Chelish marines. Admiral Thrune and her bodyguard stood on the quarterdeck, ready to back up the marines.

Chopper hacked at the enemy forces then reeled as a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder and seemed to explode with malevolent power. The Admiral sneered and handed her crossbow a crewman for reloading, accepting a second bow in exchange.

Ezikial ignored the swords of the marines and charged forward, screaming Besmara’s wrath. He fired both pistols at the bodyguard, a woman dressed in impressive spike-covered black armor. “You may be just my type, m’lady,” Ezikial gritted. “Let’s see how you bleed for me, shall we?” The bodyguard sniffed as her wounds partially healed themselves.

Chopper was in imminent danger of being surrounded by marines with boarding pikes. Feruzi fired her bow, downing one and wounding the other while Sandara skirted the pikes to land a healing spell on her teetering Captain. Reiko decapitated the wounded marine seemingly without noticing and, just like that, the way was open for them to charge the Admiral. The bodyguard readied to receive them while the Admiral cast a spell. Unholy fire burst on the deck, scorching them.

Ezikial continued firing at the bodyguard, who glowed again with healing power. She shoved him aside and hacked at Chopper with her bardiche. He winced in pain but endeavored to appear unimpressed, an endeavor that became more convincing as Sandara channeled energy and the wounds sealed over. Reiko snarled a challenge at Admiral Thrune but the bodyguard threw herself in the katana’s path, screaming as the blade bit through her armor. She collapsed on the deck, dead.

“And I thought we had something there,” Ezikial said sadly.

“Valeria! NO!” Admiral Thrune shrieked.

“You CAN surrender, you know,” Chopper told her.

“I will NEVER surrender! My soul is lost no matter what happens.”

A priestess of Norgorber suddenly became visible, flinging up a wall of blades in front of Chopper and Reiko. Feruzi and Ezikial fired their weapons, Ezikial wounding the Admiral, Feruzi skewering the priestess. Reiko wrenched herself free of the blades, her kimono slashed to ribbons, and finished Ezikial’s work, cleaving the admiral open from breastbone to pelvis. Chopper attacked the cleric, but nothing seemed to happen. Sandara quickly threw a dispelling field, revealing the illusion. Feruzi whipped around, grimacing, and spotted the cleric fleeing toward the other side of the ship.

“Hey, no running away, there!” she yelled and drew her bow. The cleric looked back and received an arrow in the eyesocket for her trouble. The remaining marines and crew shrank back, some even jumping overboard to an uncertain fate rather than surrender.

Reiko looked overboard as the Crisis crew herded the prisoners belowdecks. The battle seemed to be going well—many of the Chelish ships were breaking off the attack and fleeing into the storm. “Shall we raise our colors on this ship to announce its capture?” Reiko asked.

“Aye, make it so,” Chopper said. “Yer fookin’ welcome, Bonefist,” he grumbled under his breath.

With the Chelish armada broken, the Shackles fleet limped back to Hell Harbor and the predictable partying. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to pat Chopper on the back.

“Well, ye know, I have my moments,” he said modestly. “Question now is, what next?”

“There is really only one reasonable course of action,” Reiko said. “The King must be deposed.”

“Wait, he’s not supposed to be a useless figurehead?” Feruzi asked. “When did this happen?”

“He is clearly too arrogant for his position. It nearly cost us our freedom. As a Free Captain I take issue.”

“He weren’t so back in th’ day,” Fishguts said, “but thirty-eight years is a long time ter rule an’ recent events ha’ proved he ain’t the man he wuz.”

“Clearly.”

“He should have had some grandchildren,” Feruzi added. “It gives people something to do in their old age that is annoying but not harmful.”

Tessa nodded. “Then you call for a vote of no confidence?”

Chopper did a quick count of the assembled captains, gauging whether enough were present to make any actions official. “Fookin’ right,” he concluded. “Shall we show the old man the door? What say you?”

“AYE!” shouted, apparently, every pirate in the Shackles.

“I think it is clear which of you we would prefer to nominate, but the decision is still yours.”

Reiko glanced at Chopper, who grinned. “Very well, I accept,” he said. Another cheer went up.

“Our acclaim won’t be enough, of course,” Tessa said. “The title’s wholly empty as long as Bonefist wears the Hurricane Crown and sits enthroned in Fort Hazard.”

“And he cannot be expected to relinquish either without a fight,” Endymion said.

“Well, it won’t be our first raid,” Reiko said.

“Plus there’s the back door,” Feruzi added.

“Back door?”

“Yes. Harrigan was planning to sneak in and assassinate Bonefist using a secret entrance put in by a former incumbent. The Chelish invaders were supposed to make Harrigan the new ruler of the Shackles—under their orders, of course,”

Endymion spat. “Treacherous bastard.”

“This is a surprise to anyone?”

The Master of the Gales nodded. “Then a stealthy assault on Port Peril is best. Overthrow Bonefist and send him either into exile or to a watery grave.”

The Crisis surreptitiously—well, as surreptitiously as a ship could manage, anway—docked at Lucrehold an hour or so after sundown. Several warehouses stood on the island’s southwest corner, along with outbuildings filled with apparatus for making olive oil. Harrigan’s notes indicated that the secret entrance was hidden beneath a tun in one of the warehouses.

“I think it’s this one,” Feruzi said, turning the map around and squinting. “Or . . . maybe that one.”

A quick reconnoiter of the warehouse revealed two entrances: a wide set of double doors, probably for wagons, and a side door for pedestrian traffic. Both appeared to be locked, but neither were obviously guarded.

“So, any witchcraft about?” Chopper asked. Feruzi rolled her eyes but cast a spell to reveal magical auras. None were in evidence. “I’m inclined to kick down the big doors,” Chopper continued, “but I assume I’ll be vetoed, so let’s just go the other way.”

Leila unlocked the door. It was dark and quiet inside. Chopper peered into the room nearest the door, discovering numerous dusty scrolls and ledger books. “Witch room,” he whispered. “Or, you know, accounts payable. One o’ those.” The next door opened into a long room divided into stalls by low wooden walls, perfect for taking cover should any shooting be required. Large barrels and ceramic amphorae were stacked within the stalls, filling the air with the smell of oil, wine, and beer. Following Harrigan’s notes, they located their specific tun of rum in the easternmost stall.

Feruzi stared at it in horror. “We can just move it, right? We don’t have to drink it?”

“Er, we don’t HAVE to,” Chopper said uncertainly, looking at Ezikial.

“This much rum, even he might not survive,” Reiko said. “I know that’s not putting much faith in his drinking abilities, but still . . .”

“I could go get Rosie and Grok,” Leila said.

“Is it possible for a man to die of happiness?” Chopper asked. “Surely there’s some sort of hidden catch hereabouts. Or a handcart.” Searching around revealed nothing. Shrugging, Chopper hefted his axe and laid into the barrel, chopping a hole and letting the rum pour out. Sandara grabbed a mug, filled it, and passed it to Ezikial, then filled one for herself. With the barrel mostly empty, they were able to heave it aside, revealing a trap door that opened on a rusting iron ladder descending into a rough-hewn tunnel that ran north and east and terminated in a dank room. A stone statue depicting Besmara stood in an alcove. It was once painted in bright, gaudy colors, but most of the pigment had flaked off, revealing green stone. Blue-green flames danced along the statue’s sculpted hair.

Moving on, they discovered a number of vaults—some with niches in the walls that turned them into crypts. The floor had subsided, allowing a pool of dark water to form. Four barnacle-enrusted corpses with glowing red eyes rose out of the water as they approached. Mist seemed to rise from them, obscuring the room. Chopper cursed and a great deal of flailing about ensued, ending with the draugr sent to their final final rest and Chopper rather scratched up and disarranged. Sandara helpfully cast some healing spells to restore his equilibrium and remove the after affects of too much undead mauling.

The traditional post-combat wrap up revealed a secret door in one of the burial niches, leading into another long tunnel leading north and east. This one ended in a small, damp cave, this one laid out like a hall of sorts, with evenly spaced torches filling the place with disturbing shadows. A collection of jagged metal heaved itself upright, extending an arm that ended in an enormous cannon barrel.

“Hello, my lovely!” Ezikial announced, charging forward. The cannon boomed and Ezikial went flying through the air, landing flat on his back, covered in blood. “Chopper!” he said indistinctly. “I simply MUST have one!”

“What, am I going to deny you a pet?” Chopper demanded as Reiko charged past him to engage the golem. Her katana blade scraped along the creature’s chassis, leaving a surprisingly massive dent and knocking loose what might have been several vital parts. The cannon golem sputtered and clanked ominously as it switched targets, winding up for another blast.

Chopper threw an axe at the golem, drawing its attention. He grabbed his crotch suggestively. “Oy, fullmetal ugly! Suck my nuts and bolts!” Strangely, the golem seemed to find this insulting. It gave a metallic-sounding screech and headed toward Chopper while Sandara frantically tried to heal Ezikial. Another boom and Chopper was flat on the ground.

A hail of bullets hit the golem, causing its torso to drop free of its legs with a horrible grinding noise. The top half tried to pull itself along, then fell to the floor as the alchemical magic powering it faded.

“Well,” Reiko said as Sandara scrambled after Chopper, “If they didn’t know we were here before, they do now.”

Sandara’s magic got Chopper and Ezikial back on their feet, but Ezikial was left with a broad scar on his face. “I canna seem t’ mend it wi’ the magics I ’ave,” Sandara said. “Yer face just gonna be ugly fer a while.”

“Uglier than it already was?” Feruzi asked. Sandara grinned. “Well, shall we move on?” Feruzi asked. Chopper nodded.

“Let’s.”

The stone doors opened into an octagonal room with another pair of identical doors across from them. Leila froze as they crossed the floor. “Wait,” she called. “The whole floor is trapped.” The doors behind them slammed closed and locked with an audible clack.

“Why does this not surprise me?” Reiko asked. She ducked as crossbow bolts flew out of concealed arrow slits. Whirling blades sprang up around them. Ezikial sprang over a saw that would do a lumber mill proud and raced toward the opposite door, grunting a few times in pain. Feruzi climbed up a wall and joined him by crossing the ceiling. The snipers continued to fire.

“It’s almost like they were expecting us,” Reiko grunted, pulling a bolt out of her armor. Chopper sprinted across the room, slamming into the doors and flattening himself but not impressing the stone very much.

“Let me get that, Captain,” Ezikial said, and blasted the lock mechanism with his pistol. Leila pulled a piece of junk metal out of her pack and threw it into the whirling blades, where it wedged, eliciting a truly fantastic medley of screeching and grinding noises, followed by a ground-shaking bang as the machinery tore itself apart. Reiko crossed the room in a more leisurely fashion and heaved the doors open, revealing another room pretty much identical to the one they were standing in. Feruzi cautiously stepped forward, triggering a second trap that slammed the doors shut and doused everything liberally with gouts of fire. There was a lot of scurrying behind the walls and the helpful addition of yet more crossbow bolts.

Chopper pushed past Feruzi and repeated his door-charging trick, with equally unimpressive results. Ezikial pulled grenades off his belt and tossed them into an arrow slit. He then sat down, bleeding profusely from a pair of crossbow bolts in his chest. The blast shook the room and produced a hail of earth and chips of stone, revealing two shocked elven snipers. Reiko charged them while Sandara once again rushed in to prevent Ezikial from dying. The space behind the walls resounded with shrieks and groans as Reiko dealt out retribution to the snipers. Chopper finally managed to get the far doors open, revealing side passages that led behind the arrow slits.

“That was my fookin’ gunner!” he snarled, laying into the retreating snipers with his axes. Another explosion shook the room as Leila detonated the reservoir of alchemical fire powering the jets. Soon it was over, aside from the usual magical cleanup of injuries sustained.

“I am out of grenades, Captain,” Ezikial reported sadly. “Fortunately I found this ring of keys.”

“That might make it easier to get through the doors,” Reiko said.

Past the trap, they found another long, dank tunnel that opened into a wider cave where a thin strip of beach bordered a wide expanse of dark water. Sounds of surf echoed in the distance. A wooden pier extended into the water. Far across the cave a faint light shone from the window of a building standing next to a similar pier. Sandara pulled her hat off and tossed it into the water, where it became a jollyboat.

“Unless summon else has a boat,” she said, winking.

“Not on me, no,” Chopper said.

“I don’t suppose your pipe turns into an oar?” Leila asked.

“Nope. Reckon it’ll be slow going, but it beats swimmin.”

They jury-rigged some bits of wood together and set out. The water was still and cold. Chopper peered overboard, discovering an immense heap of bones at the bottom of the cove. “Hmm, whale bones?” he asked. Feruzi looked over and winced.

“Those are dragon bones.” Predictably, they began to stir, assembling into the shape of a dragon that reared up in front of their wobbly little boat.

Chopper whooped in delight as the undead dragon eyeballed their tiny craft. “I know, I know,” he grumbled. “You lot won’t let me keep it.” The dragon’s head whipped around and it snapped at Ezikial, almost throwing him out of the boat and delivering a powerful electrical shock at the same time. Its wings whomped down, battering everyone severely.

“Bloody ’ells!” Sandara yelled. A series of loud cracking noises indicated that somewhere under there Ezikial was doing his best to turn the undead dragon into puree. Reiko bellowed and swung her katana, the blade cleaving into the dragon’s neck and, amazingly, severing it. It promptly exploded, giving everyone a nasty dose of electricity as the remains of the skeleton sank into the water. Sandara waved her hands over the scorched group.

“Not sure how much longer I kin keep this up,” she said.

“We ’preciate yer efforts,” Chopper told her.

“We do have some potions to help . . . I think,” Reiko added. On the far shore, an alarm bell began to ring.

“I suppose they noticed us,” Leila sighed.

“We’ve knocked, we may as well go in,” Ezikial said. He clambered out of the jollyhatboat and kicked in the door to the bastion. The guardpost was lit by a smoky oil lamp. Four big fellows with a patchwork of brown and blue-gray markings on their skin charged, becoming shark-like monstrosities as they moved.

“Are those contagious?” Feruzi asked, incredulous. “Because they look contagious.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t let yourself get bit then, just to be on the safe side,” Reiko told her.

“Yeah, I couldn’t manage being that ugly.”

“But you can handle being . . . scaly. Right then.”

Leila fired her bow at one of the weresharks, but the monster just lacked. “I have silver arrows in my quiver for just such an emergency,” Feruzi told her, firing her own volley at the monsters.

The other door to the room flew open and an even bigger, MUCH angrier shark charged in, making a beeline for Chopper, grabbing him by the legs and swinging him through the air. Chopper’s delighted “whee!” turned into an “ouch!” as his head collided with Reiko’s shoulder.

“Seriously?!” Reiko demanded, going after the shark boss with her katana. Ezikial cut loose with the shooting and very shortly there was nothing left but a bunch of sashimi and some leftover enormous crescent-shaped bite marks. Sandara shook her head as she summoned more healing magic.

“So how many more guards do you think Bonefist has in this little secret lair?” Feruzi asked.

“More’n three,” Chopper grunted. They left the bastion and crossed a patch of sandy beach toward what appeared to be a small fortress with familiar ship anchored nearby. The boom of a cannon sounded and Reiko disappeared in a blast of sand.

“Er, you forgot to duck,” Feruzi said as Reiko staggered muzzily to her feet.

“STOP WASTING MY CANNONBALLS!” Ezikial yelled, shaking his fist at the cannon tower. They charged into the tower, encountering another group of weresharks and some human guards resulting in, yes, yet another furious battle, from which they emerged victorious.

The door to the next room opened, revealing Tsadok Goldtooth, who fired his pistol at Chopper. “I told you that you should have let me fish him!” Feruzi said as Ezikial returned fire.

“Fish?” Chopper asked, baffled. A dwarf boatswain appeared beside the half-orc and launched himself on Chopper, pinning him down while a second dwarf ran up and began punching the Captain about the stomach. Feruzi skewered one dwarf with arrows while Reiko surgically removed the other. Sandara threw an ice storm at Goldtooth, who swung his falchion at Ezikial, who took a serious wound for, probably, the tenth time today. Any more of this and they’d be taking him back to the Crisis in a box. Reiko intercepted Goldtooth’s next attack and treated him as she treated all opponents.

“Doesn’t matter,” the half-orc sputtered. “The King’ll kill you all.”

“I bet fish looks like the nice option now,” Feruzi said.

“What is it with you and the fish?” Chopper demanded. “Seriously.”

“What is it with you and the senile old-man memory?”

“’E’s an old man,” Sandara said brightly, mending their wounds."

“I hate you all.”

“This is not news, Captain,” Ezikial said.

“If he started liking us I’d be worried we weren’t doing our jobs well enough.”

The next room in the tower was a dining hall, dominated by a large table of polished teak and an ornately carved-high backed captain’s chair.

“I vote we use the chair as a battering ram on . . . something that needs battering,” Chopper said. “Just for spite.” Ezikial pulled Bonefist’s banner down from the wall.

“I vote we don’t,” Reiko said. “It’s a nice and probably expensive chair.”

They left the tower, now empty of enemies, and headed for the docked ship, the Filthy Lucre. An exquisitely painted figurehead of a beautiful, bare-breasted woman rose from the ship’s prow. Feruzi cast a spell of invisibility over them and they crept aboard the ship, apparently unnoticed. Chopper began climbing the rigging to the crow’s nest, where a sniper was watching the pier. “Ahoy,” Chopper announced, and gave her a violent shove.

Two boatswain’s mates on the main deck moved toward the main mast. A charau-ka, an ape-like humanoid, readied a bomb while the more ordinary sailors cleared the deck, wanting to be as far away from the fighting as possible. The sniper in front of Chopper dropped her rifle. “I’m no match for you,” she said. “I serve the Gunworks of the Grand Duchy of Alkenstar, and I offer you the secrets of my trade in exchange for my life.”

Arrows peppered the other sniper atop the second mast, most striking the wood but one eliciting a cry of pain. Feruzi yelled as the bomb hit her, enveloping her in flames. The air went cold and a pair of unearthly monstrosities appeared beside Reiko. Chopper jumped from the tower to assist Reiko in fighting off the daemons.

Ezikial blasted the charau-ka alchemist to gibbly little bits, then finished off the boatswain’s mates that were now menacing Feruzi. One piscodaemon expired noisily under Reiko’s sword, and the other wasn’t looking so hot. Then a spell hit Leila and she fell to the deck, stone dead.

Chopper screamed, charging toward the poop deck. “There!” Ezikial yelled as something hissed angrily and the door to the captain’s cabin flew open, revealing Bonefist in all his glory. Or lack thereof. Sandara threw a spell across the deck that purged the invisibility, revealing a tall woman with the lower body of a snake. She whirled her scimitars and attacked. Chopper was more than happy to return the favor, hacking wildly with his axes while Feruzi lined up a shot, piercing lamia through the chest.

“Your witch is dead and your crew has abandoned you, Bonefist!” Reiko shouted. “You have no one left to fight for you. Give up now and step down.”

“I ain’t forsakin’ my throne fer the likes o YE.”

“That’s a shame,” Reiko said, attacking with her katana. Bonefist was blindingly fast with his rapier, fending her off despite his wounds. He backed away, almost running into Chopper, who had jumped down the stairs behind him.

“Stand down, Reiko,” Chopper said. “This one . . . er, the REST of this one is mine.”

“You still have the opportunity to surrender,” Reiko said.

“NEVER!” A bullet tore Bonefist’s ear off. Chopper shrugged, and buried his axe in the former Pirate King’s skull. He then turned away, looking sadly at Leila’s body.

“I’ll, uh, start prayin’ for her,” Sandara said. “Once ye make sure this area is secure. And find that treasure vault . . . you need that to impress the other pirate captains, an’ all.”

“There will be time for that. We see to Leila first.”

A full exploration of the sea caves revealed no more opposition and, yes, quite an impressive treasure room. After a night’s rest, Sandara was able to raise Leila from the dead. The delighted Chopper hugged Sandara, with instructions to transfer it to Leila.

“You big soppy,” Feruzi said fondly.

“Summon tell Fishguts to quit choppin’ onions,” Chopper blubbered.

“So, your Majesty, what’s your plan?” Feruzi asked.

“Guess I should get coronated. Something, something, drink heavily, something, something, see about easing up on Sargavan tarriffs.”

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled. You going to invite her to the coronation?”

Chopper suddenly looked pensive. “I guess I might as well.”

“I could handle that for you . . . I’m sure Merrill would like a nice, long, relaxing, UNEVENTFUL trip.”

“Aye, fer once,” Sandara said.

“And then we can see about getting you a PERMANENT wife.”

Chopper raised an eyebrow at that. “Let’s go provide the Council with the proof of our deeds and leave nonsense topics tabled forever.”

“He’s still got the better part of a year to go with his current Missus, anyway,” Reiko chimed in.

“Bah, with him it’ll take months even if I start looking now,” Feruzi said. “Picky, picky, picky. I’ll have to get his mother to help. She doesn’t put up with him.”

“Look here, you lot, I’m the bleedin’ Hurricane King. I’ll not be henpecked by ye.”

Feruzi snorted. “Keep dreaming.”

Sandara and Leila giggled.

“And after that, Reiko,” Feruzi continued in a burst of extravagance.

“No,” Reiko said.