The second instalment of our Dungeons and Dragons campaign takes the players where the least expected!

The Blank Stare

A year had passed since our band’s encounter against the gruesome troll lurking in the depth of the abandoned shack’s basement.

Our travels have taken us countless leagues across the land and beyond, from the settlement of Hornbit to the great city of Greyhawk and then to other places men have heard only in myth and whispers hushed in the dark corner a pub.

I am still shaken at what happened shortly after our encounter at the abandoned shack. During our recovery in Greyhawk in Fig’s Inn, we listened to the landlord’s rumour of trouble brewing in a town called Hornbit.

We made our way to this quiet place and gained audience with Hornbit’s governor, Lord Rufus and his mage, the so-called Great Bernhart. They simply directed us towards the ruins nearby and we obliged blindly.

The ruins were inhabited by bandits and other monster who typically find refuge in such cursed grounds. I remember most vividly encountering the human murderers for it was the first time I killed a man.

In the melee a mad man came rushing at me with a wicked blade in his hand. Filthy and unkempt he looked feral and bestial. On instinct I manifested an arrow of magic energy which I cast straight towards the man. There was no blood as it burnt a hole in the man’s chest. He suddenly jerked and fell over as if he were a marionette whose strings had been abruptly severed.
As my friends continued the fight I was mesmerised by the man who lay before me. For a few moments his chest heaved and his mouth gargled dark blood. His face became apparently more human as I saw it twitch in the last attempts to live before he became motionless, his eyes blankly staring at nothing in particular. I did not have any more time to ponder on this as our bloody fight through the ruins continued.

Afterwards I consolidated myself that the man I had killed was at the level of orcs and such cruel beasts that I had slain before. I found it surprising easy to cover the initial guilt until it died away in the forge of battle, for every man that died by my hand or mind was one less murderer. I was angered that men, who were already besieged by cruel monsters and savage orcs, fell upon each other like cannibalistic wolves.

The Slavers of Bail

We returned to Hornbit and Lord Rufus was as cold as he was on our initial arrival. Regardless he offered us another, slightly less ambiguous task of investigating Orlan, a nearby province which had entirely stopped paying its tax.

We set off once more and the first few days went past without incident - the area was mostly flat and easy walking and the weather fine, But it was on the fourth morning that the greatest misfortune befell. The smell of breakfast filled our little camp and the sun shone brightly with a gentle breeze.

I was spooning some food in my mouth and Hendel, who even this early chatted about his absurd religion, stopped and looked at me funny. He simply froze mid-sentence. I was about to call out a remark but to my immense horror I too found myself unable to move apart from eyes. It was then that I noticed that a shadow loomed above us.
Huon, the strange half elf,  called out to us to look above but it looks like everyone apart from him was effect. My eyes pushed up as far as possible and I could see part of some kind of flying ship. I could hear the twang of Huon’s bow, though what it could it do against a massive ship I could not even think about for I noticed that the ground was falling away from Hendel and I. Confused, it took me a moment to realise that we were being lifted up in the air. By now Huon bow was quiet, and I gathered that he too was bound by this powerful magic.

An intense buzzing sound filled my head but frozen I could not even cringe in pain. It was then that all went blank.

***

It was the smell that I first noticed as I regained consciousness. It was the stench of fear and loose bowels. I opened my eyes and was surrounded naked men, women and children, all naked. Ruarc, Hendel, Alatariel and Huon were among them, looking as confused as the rest.

I reached for my heirloom, that green marble that bought some solace during these months and with a gasp I realised it had been taken off me, along with the rest of my equipment and clothes. I found myself not panicking at this time, I was sure that I would somehow get the heirloom back.

We were all crammed in what I guessed was the bottom of the ship’s hull. The fearful eyes of  the captured either shifted constantly to every sound above or were simply weeping.

I asked the other captives if they knew what was going on. They all curtly explained the same thing happened as it did to us.
Hours passed and then I looked through the single port hole in the hull, tiny and barred as it was. What I saw was astounded me for I did not see the normal sky or the green plains as I knew them. It was a somewhat familiar sight that I had seen in the magic college all those years ago. It was our world but from a grave distance, so far that the true ellipse shape was revealed. The sun was set against the black canvas of night and I shivered.

I could feel us descending and we came upon a place that was not of our world. It was a much smaller world than ours that I guessed orbited around ours. The port hole revealed glimpses of a bleak and barren place.

The thud beneath our bodies signalled that we had finally landed. There were footsteps behind the iron door and jingling of keys. The prisoners by the door that couldn’t move quickly aside were brutally pushed as the iron door swung open. A bulky figure stepped in, its bronze armour only emphasising the sheer muscle and power within the creature. It head revealed hard and grey skin, a square snout and fierce eyes. Its ears were flared like an skinless dog. It’s round nasal passages sniffed for a moment and the creature uttered commands in a guttural voice. We may not have understood exactly what it said but the meaning was evident. We picked our selves off the ground and followed the creature, flanked by a few others of his kind.

We were led through the dank bowels of the ship until we reached outside. Hundreds  of other prisoners were amassed in front of us, being herded onwards to a specific point.

My friends and I kept close to one another, though careful not to look at each other’s unclothed bodies. As we progressed further we could hear the shout and grunts in unknown languages. One voice prevailed the most and on his command different group of prisoners moved in different directions. We finally saw the owner of this voice, another short and squat creature dressed in strange finery. Standing on a podium, it animatedly pointed his jewelled fingers towards prisoners and then to other beings that were obviously not prisoners judging by their rich attire.
The squat thing then pointed at us for a brief moment and I realised we were being auctioned off. A figure raised his hand, and through his cruel dark armour I saw a man, tall and lithe. His eyes were slits of malice and his high cheek bones accentuated his patrician features. The auctioneer yelled again and we were pushed along. The lithe stranger walked away and his lesser kin ordered us by the points of swords to cram inside the nearby wooden carts which housed cages.

I never saw if my equipment were taken in another cart or not and I began to worry immensely.

***

The creak of the carts lasted an half an hour or so and we reached an obsidian castle that stabbed menacingly into the strange sky. The land surrounding it was charred and dead, with crow-like birds cocking their eyes at us. A haunting breeze caressed our shivering bodies, bringing the cold smell of copper to our noses.
Shortly after entering the gates of this castle, we were led into the dungeons and thrown inside a cell. At least our captors had the decency to provide us each with a simple tunic.

The cell was little more inviting that the barren wasteland outside with a gutter running along one side with revolting still water. There were already other prisoners in the cell and after our captors had locked the door we went about asking questions.

We found out very little however, only that this hell was called Bail and the captors took people from the cell from time to time who were never seen again.

With nothing else to do, we mostly kept to our own thoughts and slept if possible. At irregular intervals food and somewhat fresh water was brought out to us by the captors. The food was some kind of gruel that tasted horrible but it was edible nonetheless.

As foretold, the captors would come in and question individuals or small groups of people and then take them away. I could not get close enough overhear exactly what was asked of the prisoners. Were we to be sacrificed to some perverse god, I often I wondered?

A few nights passed when the captors came in again. They pointed to us and we came to the fore of the cell. I was shaking with fear, questioning whether do I cast the spell of Magic Missile. But they were well armed and in our weakened and vulnerable state we would be chopped into pieces. I forced myself to hold on and prayed for a more opportune moment.
In turn they asked my friends what they do for a living, whether they could fight or not. Were we to fight to death in some arena? Finally their dark eyes turned to me.
“What can you do, old man?”
I straightened my back in a horrible attempt to look dignified, “I’m a magician.”
“Show us, old man,” they sniggered.
To their annoyance, I took a moment to think - if I cast my spell then to show my ability, I would not be able to cast it again today and would be utterly defenceless. I took the gamble and begun performing the spell with my hands when a small flicker of a flame appeared above them.
“Very well,” one of the captors said. I glanced over towards  Alatariel and nodded my thanks, though whether her quick cast cantrip would save my life I was unsure at the time.

Now that we had all either passed or failed the captors’ test, we were led out of the prison block in shackles and to a higher level of the castle. In an ordinary looking room a captor, we were approached by very man who had bought us at the auction.
“I shall be brief,” he said in clipped Common, “I will give you two choices. The first choice is for you to work for us. Expect no salary, no reward.”
With a wicked smile he looked us in the eyes one by one and then continued, “And then there is the other choice.”
He spoke no further and the second choice was apparent. We had little choice but to agree to the first choice.
We were unshackled and given quarters in the barracks. They gave us no illusion that we were no longer slaves for fierce guards were stationed within the barracks without pause. Hendel, Huon and Ruarc were told that they would be fighters but weapons would be presented to them when the need arose.
Given our magic capabilities, Alatariel and myself were however given a different position. We would simply be used living batteries for Spelljammers, ships with the capability of navigating the void much like the vessel that had abducted us only a week ago. My friends and I agreed to continue our charade, biding for the perfect time to escape.

To be continued...

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