Battle Report: The Battle of Tres Demonios
An Account of the Battle of Tres Demonios and the events that preceded it
As told by Sir Reginald Kelly, of the Holy Order of Knights Radiant, Knight Leftenent of the Sloop of War Mithra's Blessing
Introduction
The following is an accurate and first hand account of the naval action that took place on the ninth day of SummerWaxing, Year of Our Lord of Light, 245. The action took place between an irregular force of the Holy Church, and the pirate armada lead by the notorious giant and pirate king who styled himself "Bigtime". All events are accurate as to my best understanding and recollections, and are informed by both my first hand experiences and copious conversations with other direct participants in the battle.
And so I begin my tale, with the events leading up to the battle
Holy Church and my own Order had for some time been aware of the risk of a major pirate incursion into the remote and lightly defended lands of the Lejos Archipelago. While my own Order attempts to patrol these seas, we are stretched thin and had come to rely heavily on the forces of House Vetrini to keep these sea lanes secure. While that Merchant House had little concern for the lives of the small folk, they had extensive holdings and operations in the area, especially in the principal town and stronghold of Puerto Lejo. Such interests necessitated some modest effort by the Vetrini in securing the seas from the predations of pirates and the like, if only out of self interest. However, recently the Vetrini had begun behaving strangely, withdrawing most of their strength to the seas immediately surrounding the town, thus leaving the outlying steadings and villas more and more to fend for themselves. Rumors abounded including one that the merchants were planning to evacuate from the entire region.
This turn of events left our Sisters of the Abbey of St. Ursula in a precarious position. The rich and prosperous abbey lies on a mid sized island three days sail from the protection of the port, and even before the Vetrini altered their defensive strategy, the holy nuns had faced considerable risk from pirate raids.
While this was not always the case, the Abbey currently had no order of Paladins or similar martial capability to protect itself. As the entire region became more and more abandoned by the Vetrini and their pet governor at Puerto Lejos, the Sisters became fearful and called for aid.
A call for aid that I am proud to say the Knights Radiant chose to answer. The decision was not easily made, as the Order of St. Ursula is not a member of the Orthodox Church of Mithra but rather gives allegiance to the somewhat heretical Reformed Church. And we are stretched thin, as I said. Nonetheless, The Order of St. Ursula is old and well respected, founded by the Blessed St. Ursula herself, and said to contain her tomb and last resting place. We could not stand idly aside and let such a sacred place fall to pirates.
Still, we are stretched thin and the Lejos Archipelago it not called "The Far Islands" for naught. Those seas lie on the very edge of civilization. We dispatched a squadron, but it was embarrassingly small, just my own ship, the Sloop of War, Mithra's Blessing and an even smaller vessel, the sloop Swift Justice. Still, even a single Paladin of The Knights Radiant is not a thing to be taken lightly. And so we came, to once again be the Sword Against the Darkness, The Protectors of the Faithful, and Guardians of the Meek.
Things were not much better at Puerto Lejos. The Vetrini were evasive and noncommittal and refused to explain their actions, or give us much in the way of military assistance, though they did (grudgingly) agree to resupply us and repair our damaged ship. My uncle was exceedingly wroth at their evasions and their refusal to support our mission with even one of the three war galleons that were currently anchored in the harbor. Things were clearly rotten in Puerto Lejos. Though we had yet to realize how rotten.
While my uncle was ashore arguing with the merchant princes, I was left in command of the Mithra's Blessing, a command I thought of little account given we were anchored in the harbor. However, I was proven wrong in this estimation. While waiting my uncle's return a group of mercenaries approached our ship in a jollyboat, beseeching us for aid. They brought grave tidings.
These mercenaries had been hired by the Sister's of the Abbey to both provide additional protection and to search for a lost lamb of theirs. Sister Clara had disappeared en route back to the Abbey, along with a large shipment of provisions and weapons that the Sisters had bought at the notorious pirate port of Skull River Bay. Given the origin of the goods, I of course immediately suspected a pirate double-cross, but the mercenaries (who were the owners and crew of the privateer Lady Jezebel) had discovered differently. Sister Clara had, in fact, been taken prisoner by the very Vetrini merchant with whom she had contracted to transport her cargo! That very ship, the Galleon Summer Gale, was keeping the good sister prisoner not two leagues from were we were currently anchored.
Of course I did not at first believe this. My Order has no great love for mercenaries and privateers, they are often only half a step from pirates (if that) and we are disinclined to take them at their word. Fortunately, while I am not yet by any means mighty in the powers of My Lord of Light, one of the gifts he has chosen to grant me is the ability to discern truth from falsehood. And surprisingly, these words rang true. I should also say, that despite the poor reputation that such sellswords have in general, and despite their rough appearance, the crew and officers of the Lady Jezebel are cut from a different cloth. Throughout our entire acquaintance I have found them to be men and women of honor and compassion. They demonstrated true devotion to the fate of the Sisters and many times risked their lives and their ship to preserve the innocent. I give much credit in this to the influence of one of their members, the Cleric Radiant Lightbringer, who, despite some of his heretical beliefs, is a very holy man, and strong in the light.
My uncle being ashore, and time being of the essence, I beat the ship to quarters and we made short work of the Galleon. Though far larger then us, she was, she thought, safely in port. Hence we found her only lightly manned with a skeleton crew, while the majority of her compliment took their ease ashore. We wasted no time in boarding her in strength, and indeed, just as promised, we discovered Sister Clara, locked in the lower decks, in a pitiful condition.
And also, as my mother always said, "It's hard to argue with results" and given we caught the villains red handed, even the Vetrini had no choice but to disown the ship's captain and claim no knowledge of the operation. It was my first time in a combat command, and I like to think that, Uncle's protestations not withstanding, I acquitted myself acceptably. It is good not to dwell on this however, Blessed Mithra counts the virtues of humility among the four cardinal virtues of the Faith. Still, I confess to indulging the sin of pride, for which I will seek atonement.
Our new allies brought more information then just the fate of Sister Clara. The Abbey had already been attacked by Pirates, and among them had been a full giant. Twenty feet high he was, tall and thick as an oak tree, astride a giant crab and wielding a huge cannon. The crew of The Lady Jezebel managed to defend the Abbey, but only through brutal and desperate battle, a battle in which one of their number was nearly slain. The story their bard, Fantastic Freddy, told of this was enough to get my blood racing. I wish I had been there.
But I digress. The defenders had taken prisoners, who when interrogated revealed the danger was greater then any of us believed. The giants were massing for a major raid, with as many as a dozen ships. They were led by a great giant king or chieftain who called himself "Bigtime." Such a force was awe inspiring, and if it fell on these unprotected islands, nothing would remain save bones and ash. The giants might set sail any day, and were massed only a week away. The rich, famous and unprotected Abbey of St. Ursula was reputedly their first target,
After imparting this news, the Lady Jezebel set sail to return Sister Clara to her home. My uncle first ensured that the Summer Gale's new captain and crew understood the importance of fulfilling their contract and delivering the needed supplies and weapons to the Abbey. Also that they understood the consequences, to themselves personally, if they delayed even a moment in that task. After the Summer Gale set sail, we only tarried long enough to complete the most critical repairs to the Mithra's Blessing before we also made all haste toward the Abbey of St. Ursula. The three days of that voyage were nerve wracking for me, and I imagine the entire crew, we feared we might be too late and find only burned and blackened stone where the Abbey had been. Praise Mithras, we arrived in time, though barely.
The abbey lies some 20 leagues inland from the coast, up the River Teth. Though the coastal villages had been burned, the earlier pirate raid had prioritized stealth. As we sailed up the rich river valley in our small boat, we found the farms and vineyards that lined it mostly untouched. The great Abbey itself was undamaged, and in fact swarming with defenders. The Sisters were known to be rich, and had sent out a call for mercenaries of all ilk's to come to their defense, promising payment in gold. This call had been answered, not only by the crew of the Lady Jezebel, but by another ship, with a significantly darker reputation.
The pirate frigate known as "The Wild Rose" has earned a black notoriety across the Northern Reach. "Bloody Rose" they name it, in hushed tones in taverns from Puerto Lejos to The Gardens. Bloody indeed are the stories, both of the ship and her Captain. No one knows where Rose came from or what passions drive her. But when she takes a prize (and she's taken many over the years), like as not, she leaves nothing but dead men behind her. Only the men though, the women she spares. Those stories, combined with the well known fact that she only accepts women as crew, make her something of a hero among certain segments of femininity. Segments that have a score to settle.
Long has my Order attempted to bring her to justice, but her ship is extremely fast and powerful, and Rose is cunning. Three of my Order's ships have fallen in this attempt over the years. She killed their crews to the man, some quite horribly. And here were her people, answering the call to protect an Abbey of nuns. It is indeed a strange world we live in.
The Council of War that followed our arrival was extremely odd. In addition to our own faction, attending were; the officers of the Lady Jezebel, the leadership of the Abbey, and Rose's people, who called themselves "The Thorns." Rose herself had not yet arrived, nor even committed to help, but had sent her third officer (who went by the name Big Bertha) to negotiate.
I firmly expected the negations to end in bloodshed between ourselves and the pirates, in fact the only reason we hadn't yet moved against them was the Sisters had granted them sanctuary and forbade it. The Thorns were arrogant, we were enraged to find them here, there were old scores to settle and the Sisters were clearly out of their depth dealing with it all. Once again I have to give credit to the officers of the Lady Jezebel. Their bard, Fantastic Freddy was extremely effective in diplomacy. He kept bringing us all back to the plight of the Abbey, they fact that even with some of the magical treasures and relics they had been granted from the Abbey's reliquary, with only three ships, we were still outnumbered and outgunned by the giants. That we had no choice but to work together.
And somehow, instead of coming to blows we ended up in an alliance. I still don't know exactly how that happened. My uncle said he felt the influence of Saint Ursula herself in that meeting, that for one blessed moment the stained glass window that housed her visage came alive and he felt her eyes burning into him, making her will known. "Judge not my instruments" he heard her say. Surely a miracle,
And so, the next day we traveled back up the river along with the Jezebels, reboarded our ship and set sail to rendezvous with the Wild Rose and the Lady Jezebel.
Given the storied past between the Knight's Radiant and Rose and her crew, there was only one possible choice for overall command of the expedition, Captain Ricmo of the Lady Jezebel. Ricmo was a halfling, and while a relative newcomer to the Northern Reach, he had a reputation for being, if not an exceptionally skilled captain, at least an extremely lucky one. The men grumbled a bit but overall, Halflings are considered good luck in such endeavors, and this one had won the Grand Tournament of Cards at Skull River Bay, so the claim of his being exceptionably lucky carried weight with the men. Plus he was good natured and personable enough, and free with his coin.
And so, Ricmo received a brevet promotion to Commodore, and we all swore an oath to follow him and defeat the invaders.
My uncle grumbled more than a little as well, but only to me personally. Being under the command of a privateer Captain clearly rankled him, however he is a practical man and has made much greater sacrifices. He did insist that I be his liaison with the Lady Jezebel, that I sail aboard her, keep her crew under observation and report back any suspicious behavior. This I agreed to do, and so for a time I found myself a Jezebel. And thus, as a united force, we set sail.
I beg the reader's patience with this long preamble, however I felt it necessary to explain the events that led to a ship of Holy Mother Church sailing alongside pirates and mercenaries in the defense of an abbey full of nuns. As my mother often said "Needs must when the devil drives."
We concocted our battle plan during the first day of travel. The captain and first officer of each ship came aboard the flagship, and met in the Great Cabin of the Lady Jezebel where we poured over maps and charts and discussed strategy. This was the first time I met the infamous Captain Rose in person. She absolutely lived up to her reputation. If the Great Adversary himself took form as human woman, he would have difficulty matching Rose in either beauty, wildness or charm. While she was at all times professional and demonstrated a keen tactical mind, sitting next to her was like sitting next to a roaring bonfire, such was her charisma and strength of personality.
The other delegate from the Wild Rose was their First Officer, Brigette the Bold. A somber, iron haired woman in early middle age, she was ice to Rose’s fire, cold, professional, calculating, experienced. Her reputation as an officer and a swordswoman was only slightly less then Rose herself, she is said to be the finest blade in the Thousand Isles. I hope one day to cross swords with her. But hopefully, Mithra willing, not until I am equal to the task.
The plan we arrived upon was elegant and innovative but required many things to go correctly. The most important of which was access to up to date information on our enemy, his disposition, location, course and speed. As my Uncle often says, "never underestimate the effect of good intelligence my boy. Half the battle is won or lost before it is fought."
Fortunately we had Whisperleaf on our side. The elven forest wizard was passing strange, and seemed half mad at times, but his affinity with all forms of natural life, his ability to speak the tongues of plants and animals, to curry their favor and if needed to command them, was nothing short of extraordinary and proved extremely useful to us. Critical even.
Out of all the animals of the sea Whisperleaf especially liked the Albatross. For those of my readers who may not be familiar, the albatross is a most extraordinary bird, huge, with a wingspan longer then a man is tall. They are well known and revered by sailors, encountered from one end of the Thousand Isles to the other, often by ships far out to sea and many leagues from the nearest land. Though I had not realized what a truly extraordinary bird it was until Whisperleaf enlightened me.
I was flabbergasted by the plan.
"Will he be able to find them? They must be two hundred leagues away?"
"He will fly that 200 leagues tonight while we sleep and he will find them come the dawn." Whisperleaf replied confidently. "The real question is will I be able to understand him well enough to place them on our charts. Birds don't think like we do, in leagues and headings. Still, I think I can translate, with some help from Tello."
I may be a junior officer, newly come to my calling, but no one needed to tell me what a priceless advantage this was. In any naval action, finding the enemy is one of the largest challenges. Often ships sail blindly, in search patterns based on little other then guesswork and hope. The side that guesses right, or more likely, just blunders across the enemy first, has a distinct advantage. If conditions are favorable, he has the wind gauge for instance, he can seek combat, if conditions unfavorable, he can reject it. The Druid was offering a priceless advantage. If his plan worked.
The Chase
At first it worked splendidly.
The bird returned near evening of the second day of the voyage, while I was taking the air on the quarterdeck with the officers of the Lady Jezebel. From out of the setting sun, I saw an albatross approach and circle the ship, though I was unsure if it was the same albatross. Whisperleaf was not unsure. He started cawing and squawking immediately, then reached into the pockets of his robe and produced some anchovies, tossing them to the bird, who neatly plucked them out of mid air. The bird screeched back, unintelligible to me.
"He found them!" Whisperleaf exclaimed excitedly, brushing some of the kelp he'd lately become obsessed with out of his beard. "If I understand the bird correctly, I believe BigTime left anchorage around the same time we did. They are headed straight at the Abbey, moving with the wind, at around two knots. "
"A shame we won't catch them moored" Ricmo replied. "Quite a coincidence, them setting out just at the same time as we did" he remarked suspiciously.
"Not a coincidence." Whisperleaf replied gravely. "The bird got a good solid look at the giant armada. Five ships, ten giants in all, plus around eighty of the half giants, the Goliaths. One of them had two heads and carried a huge staff, exactly matching the description of the giant shaman Bigtime was waiting on."
"So the shaman just happens to show up right as we set sail?" Ricmo complained.
"No" Whisperleaf replied seriously. "That's too much of a coincidence,. I suspect he's been there for awhile. I suspect he knew we are coming for them. Somehow."
This thought was not a pleasant one.
The fourth day the albatross returned with bad news.
"He lost them somehow" Whisperleaf reported despondently. "He did a good job, searched up and down their path, no sign of them."
"They must have turned" Tello replied. Out of all the Jezebels, Tello is the most learned in the art of mathematics and navigation. He's also a Tortle. I've never encountered the Turtle people before, they are almost unheard of in these waters, though my Uncle says they are relatively common in the South Reach. He's an extremely odd fellow, talks in rhyme much of the time, but is a skilled artisan, navigator, and a master gunner, to hear the others talk.
"Turned, but which way?" Dakhir spoke for the first time. Out of all the Jezebels, Dakhir and his silent, hulking, black plated companion, The Sturg, are the ones I have the most doubts about, and not just because of his Tiefling blood. A quiet man normally, hooded and cloaked even in the tropical heat, he keeps mostly to himself and I have never seen him do or say anything that should give me pause. But still, there is this air of darkness about him, and occasionally I swear I catch the whiff of brimstone.
"Either north or south" Whisperleaf replied. "If they had headed back the bird would have found them, he went all the way back to their original anchorage."
Let us study the charts" Tello suggested. "When one becomes lost, at times, a map, elucidates."
We collected Blue Archie, the sailing master who was an expert in these waters, and made our way down into the captain's cabin and that marvelous map table. This is likely a good time, gentle readers, for your humble narrator to take another digression and comment on the nature of the Lady Jezebel. For that ship proved to be a most unusual and mysterious vessel. I had at this point been aboard her for only three days but even in so short a time her eldritch properties were becoming apparent.
The Lady Jezebel
My entire life I had heard tales of lost Annwyn. That this mighty empire once existed and ruled over these seas, none question, for even though their reign was an age ago, one can still find their remnants scattered across the islands. Sometimes these are weathered ruins, other times intact bastions or fortifications, structures far beyond our ability to build even today, carefully maintained by their current owners. I, myself was taught Annish as part of my education, as it is still the language of choice of the learned, educated and those of royal blood.
But when, shortly after arriving, Whisperleaf (who had either decided, or been assigned, the task of taking me under his wing) mentioned that "this was once a ship of old Annwyn" I confess I did not believe it. It was a fine ship, no doubt, bigger then the largest frigate I have seen, yet still frigate-built, fast and lean. Some of the cannons were works of art and craftsmanship such as I have never laid eyes on, especially the bronze 24lb'ers in her waist. But, ships do not last five hundred years. Castles and fortifications, certainly, if they are properly maintained, but ships are built of wood, and even the best cared for wood decays in much less time than that, especially in our tropical clime. Such a claim was impossible, I thought. I was wrong.
Once I got my first good look at the crew, I felt my confidence in the ridiculousness of Whisperleaf's claims begin to founder. There were humans among the crew for certain. Buccaneers from Masriq, veiled and turbaned, in their long, red robes, a small contingent of armed nuns from the Abbey, lead by Sister Clara bearing their holy relics, including the famous Hammer of Ursula itself. Amazons from Mbo, Endermen soldiers from the Red Watch in their kilts and plaids, likely hired out of Puerto Lejos. A handful of the First People from god knows where. An eclectic crew but not unusually so, the Thousand Isles is an eclectic place.
But there were other creatures as well, who were very much not human, though in form and function they had the casual appearance of humanity. Like a human form carved of wood, then sloppily painted, that's my best description of the creatures called Jack Tars. Carved of wood, then somehow animated by some craft or magic, for they moved with the fluidity and grace of any sailor. I never heard one speak, but they sang constantly as they went about their work, ancient shanties in archaic Annish I could barely understand. They seemed jolly enough, and were consummate seamen.
Once, I tried to speak with one, pulling him aside. He listened attentively enough, knuckling his forehead and lowering his gaze respectfully, but didn't speak. Then he raised his head and looked me in the eyes. His eyes were as alive and human as you and I, but somehow that gaze conveyed immense age, an antiquity I could barely comprehend. And a sort of soft sorrow. I broke the gaze quickly, and took my leave. And I found I now believed Whisperleaf's claim. This was a ship of old Annwyn, out of the mists of legend. And it was haunted.
On the third night I saw my first ghost. Striving to be useful I had asked to be assigned to a watch, and Commodore Ricmo had accommodated me. I had drawn the port watch. It was past seven bells in the night when I saw something moving, high among the shrouds of the foremast, a slim form, a flash of red. I called this out, but the watch captain told me to pay it no mind, it was just one of the spirits that haunted the ship. This one was known and was mostly friendly. Again, I was skeptical, but later I heard the most beautiful violin music playing from far above, a haunting song I had never heard, a song I utterly failed to remember. Though I still wish to reclaim that tune from my memory, it haunts me as if it is on the tip of my tongue and will return to me at any moment.
Whisperleaf explained the next day that that particular ghost's name was Jenny and that she was friendly and beneficial to the crew, as were all of the spirits that haunted the ship. "This ship is at least five hundred years old, and could conceivably be much older" he explained. "Many, many people have lived and died aboard her over the centuries, and some of them still remain, to serve her even after death." He looked sad as he said it.
Now, my long suffering reader, I will return to the meat of our story, for the day of battle was drawing nigh. After studying the maps and charts, Tello decided the most likely explanation for the disappearance of the enemy fleet was that the giants had turned on a southernly heading and passed south of the Tres Demonios. Blue Archie agreed. "Those islands have an evil reputations, and so shipping generally avoids them." he explained. "If the raiders are clever they could travel almost the entire way to the Abbey without running the risk of being detected. Heading north on the other hand makes no sense at all, it would take them into the center of the shipping lanes and nearer to the naval power at Port Lejos."
Whisperleaf agreed and sent his bird toward the three volcanoes. It took much cajoling and many fish to convince the albatross to head that way, those islands had an evil reputation with animals as well as men, it would seem. There are many stories of the evil creatures that lair there, creatures of fire and shadow, harpies, sirens, the great undying wizard Maximillian Von Eagle, immortal and ageless, who consumes his victims, body and soul, he who features in so many children's stories. Many stories and none of them good.
The bird braved those dangers eventually, and on the fifth day, the Tortle's reckoning proved correct and we reacquired our prey.
I remember Commodore Ricmo smiled as soon as he heard. "This is perfect" he said. "The wind (which was unsettled and unpredictable, as it generally is in the high summer) has just swung around to the north. "If the wind holds, we can skirt the mountains and fall on them unawares, with the weather gauge in our favor." he explained. "Summon the Captains to council, that we may plan the battle."
The Plan
Commodore Ricmo had concocted an unorthodox tactical plan, a plan that had taken some work to convince the other Captains of. However, the more thought I gave it, the more I could see its advantages, and indeed, its brilliance. Let me explain, dear readers.Generally when ships fight as a squadron they sail into battle together as part of a loose formation, but once the battle is joined, each ship seeks out targets and fights individually. Victory or defeat generally hinges on the valor and skill of each individual ship, as it attempts to overcome it's target. I have heard that the Ettish navy sometimes performs formation fighting, but they are the masters of deep sea warfare and even they rarely do so, and only when conditions well support it.
Battles are not fought such out of stupidity, mind you, but rather practicality. Signaling and communication are so difficult in the thick of the smoke of the fight, that complex formation tactics are too error prone and generally not pursued. "The simplest plans are usually the best", as my Uncle says "Damn maneuvers, Go straight at the enemy, lay your ship alongside him, and have at it, you shan't go too far astray."
Commodore Ricmo rejected that philosophy in favor of a very simple and (we hoped) powerful formation he called "The Line of Battle." With much enthusiasm he illustrated his plan with two quill pens, rushing around the cabin making zooms and booms to embellish. This formation was the simplest imaginable, the ships would arrange themselves in a straight line or column, each ship's bow pointed toward the stern of the ship ahead of it, keeping about 40 yards distance.
The formation was simple yet powerful, assuming we could bring our line perpendicular to the enemy formation. It would allow us to unleash broadside after broadside against the enemy's bow, and with some luck our cannonball would rake the enemy bow to stern, inflicting incredible damage. It would also preserve our own ships, as the enemy could only attack us with their bow chasers, and would have difficulty concentrating fire on any one of our ships, as we quickly unleashed our broadside and sailed out of range.
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Finally it benefitted from simplicity, it required little signaling and coordination. Follow the ship ahead, shoot when able, maintain station, don't break the line.
Ricmo claimed the ancient Annish fought in such a manner, and that many of their battles were two such lines of battle sailing alongside one another blazing away, trying to break the other line, and exploit the gap so created to cut across and rake the enemy. Ricmo called this "Crossing the tea" and claimed if we could perform such a maneuver we would surely win. I remember Rose, who was listening intently the entire time, barked a laugh at that and asked him "How in the hells do YOU know how Annwyn fought, then. That was five hundred years ago? And what does tea have to do with it?" Ricmo looked confused for a moment, and then a little frightened, frightened of what I do not know. He did not answer her question, but rather changed the subject.
Still, the idea clearly had merit, as all could see, especially with the albatross feeding constant information on the enemy position. With the wind at our back we could easily sweep out of the north across the enemy's bow and employ just such a stratagem. Also BigTime's strategy was (according to our prisoners) to seek a boarding action whenever possible, to allow the giants' great physical strength to win the day. If that was true it would play perfectly into our hands, as they charged forward into our fire. So the Captains agreed to the plan, and we turned our bows southward, and prepared to engage our enemy.
On the sixth day our small squadron was busy making ready for the upcoming battle. In addition to our more standard naval preparations, the deck of the Lady Jezebel was also alive with magic. I have of course, seen magic before. Some members of the Order have achieved a level of piety and closeness to the Divine that they may summon forth miracles. But, overall, magic is still a rare thing in The Thousand Isles and it was startling to see so much of it concentrated in one place. In addition to the Druid Whisperleaf, we had not one, but two powerful sorcerers about the fleet, Dakhir, who I have already mentioned and Laura Crimsoncloak, one of the Thorns. In the day leading up to battle, they practiced their sorceries, supposedly to sharpen their aim, but I think also to put heart in the crew. I must admit that watching Dakhir and Laura fling gouts of fire to destroy the floating targets the crew flung out into the sea, well it was good to know they were on our side.
As I watched the display, I noticed Whisperleaf next to me beaming like a child at Yuletide. I smiled back, his grin infectious. "This is quite a show" I smiled back at him. Whisperleaf grinned even wider. "Oh it's not the fireworks that have me excited. It's my new child." He must have read the confusion on my face, as he gestured for me to look over the side of the ship, near where he was standing. I did so, but saw not, but a huge mass of kelp floating near the side of the ship, not an uncommon occurrence in these waters. Then, as I watched the kelp moved. On it's own, a mass of it reached up toward us and Whisperleaf petted it.
"His name is Marley" Whisperleaf beamed, looking down on the mass of writhing tendrils. "He is newly awakened to the world of consciousness. And he will help us."
The Battle
The leadup to the battle went as perfectly as such things can. Our luck held, the northerly wind held, our albatross continued to feed us information and we rounded the lee of the southernmost of the Tres Demonios without encountering any issues with Harpies or undead Wizards. With the fire mountain smoking in the distance, Merus, our keen eyed lookout finally cried "Sails Ho" from far up in the crows nest, as the enemy crested the horizon and made themselves visible to her, to our south and west.
Of course down on the deck we saw nothing as of yet, and it would be over an hour before the enemy sails broke the horizon for us as well.
At this point, expecting no attack, our enemy's watch was lax and he did not appear to see us at all. Commodore Ricmo signaled the squadron to beat to quarters, and to reef some sail so that we would not overshoot the enemy, as we continued to close.
There had been a fair amount of debate over the precise order of our battle line. My uncle of course wanted to take the van, as was right and proper for our Order, however after much arguing he had been relegated to the rear. While it was true our Mithra's Blessing was the lightest and least heavily armed of our three ships, the real reason for this was more palpable to our sense of honor. Commodore Ricmo explained that if the Giants did in fact, succeed in charging through our fire and attempted to board us, the last ship in line was in the most danger of being caught out. The paladins of The Mithra's Blessing were much more heavily armored and better trained in hand to hand combat then any of the other crews, and thus were better suited to take the hammer blow if it came. This pleased my uncle and he agreed. The Lady Jezebel being the largest of our squadron and carrying the largest guns, would take the lead, followed by The Wild Rose and then the The Mithra's Blessing.
As we sailed onward, the enemy still out of sight to those of us on the deck, all was relatively quiet on the quarterdeck of The Lady Jezebel. Dakhir, Whisperleaf and the rest of the officers had dispersed across the ship, most going far forward so their magics would be slightly closer to their target and so they would have a clear field of view with which to employ them. Tello went to his station in the waist, preparing to lead the gun crews. Radiant Lightbringer accompanied him, as we expect the main battery of our cannon would attract the hardest counterblows, and as a Cleric he possessed healing and warding prayers that would help us endure the attacks.
Other than the contingent of nun militia Commodore Ricmo had stationed with him, the quarterdeck was almost abandoned, only myself, the Commodore and The Sturg, manning the great wheel, remained. One of the elderly nuns was quietly blessing us, elsewise all was the quiet before the storm. Since I had no great magic or skill with cannon, the Commodore intended to use me as a runner, to deliver messages to the various parts of the ship.
"When you aren't running messages, use this for me lad". Ricmo ordered, handing me a handsomely made spyglass. "Keep it trained on our enemies and let me know their actions." And thus I had probably the best view of the entire engagement saving for perhaps Merus, our lookout, in the crows next.
Slowly over the horizon the enemy ships came into view, even to those of us on the deck.
Suddenly through the quiet of the late afternoon, I heard a mighty roar from the enemy fleet. A roar so deep it could never come from human throats. And then drums, great drums began to beat. Along with the drums I could hear the giants chanting. The enemy had seen us.
A ripple of fear washed across the ship, as the true enormity of the enemy we had set ourselves against struck us. But then The Lady Jezebel answered the challenge. When I questioned the Jezebels later, all of them were adamant that the response was completely unplanned, that the ship had done this all on her own.
First, from the highest mast, a great banner unfurled. Generally The Lady Jezebel sailed under a simple green flag, for peace, or a red banner for war. Neither of these was the banner that I saw that day, instead it was the black Fleur-de-lis on White, the ancient banner of the Annwyn Empire. A banner no ship had flown, at least in these seas, in over five hundred years. Then, pipes, pipes, what sounded like a thousand bagpipes, blaring defiance from the rigging. I knew the tune for they still play it in Ende, Annwyn the Brave it is called. No pipers were visible to my eyes, but the sound was deafening. More ghosts I speculated to myself.
Dakhir and Laura, our two sorcerers struck the first blow. While we were still at the very limits of cannon range, the sent two balls of fire streaking toward the two leading ships of our enemy. The first ship, a sloop, had a huge giant with an even huger cannon perched at the bow. I watched as the fireball struck and exploded, sending waves of fire across half the ship. When the flames cleared the giant was badly burned but still screaming defiance. I shuddered at the tremendous fortitude that allowed the creature to endure such an attack. These giants would not die easily.
At the same time the other ball of flames exploded over one of the smaller longships. This longship did not contain any true giants, but only the halfbreed's we call "Goliaths". They are still fearsome warriors, but nowhere near the power of their larger kin. Several of them died screaming or threw themselves over the side in an effort to extinguish the flames. We had drawn first blood.
The tempo of the giant drums increased and I could see the enemy ships surge forward as the rowers laid into their oars with a will. Rather than fear, I felt elation, they were acting as we hoped and attempting to close the distance in a headlong rush. Their speed was astounding however, as those huge oars bit the water I remembered all our plans had hinged on being able to destroy them before they managed to close and board us. That had seemed a safe assumption at the time but none of us had realized the sheer speed they were capable of.
And then the cannons began speaking as both sides let loose.
Later I learned that the giant with the huge cannon in the sloop was named Crabtalker, and he had been the very same giant that had attacked the Abbey earlier. He had doubtlessly taken the position of greatest glory (and greatest danger) in an attempt to redeem his defeat in the eyes of his comrades. Danger he found, but not much glory. The range was extreme, but Tello truly was a master, and as the great waist guns fired, two of the three cannons struck true, raking the sloop from bow to stern.
Giants may be supernaturally large and tough, but not so much so that they can shrug off a cannonball. When the smoke cleared, Crabtalker was grievously wounded. Neither of the balls had hit him directly, but he was covered with blood from the shrapnel and splinters. Everything else on that sloop forward of the mainmast was dead.
The giant did not seem to even know he was wounded. As his ship burned around him, he gave a great cry, leveled his cannon and fired.
The ball was so huge, the size of a man at least. I could see it fly through the air toward us. It was a long shot, but a lucky one. With a huge crash it smashed into the Lady Jezebel just forward of the mizzenmast, right on the deckline, where the Masriq warriors were stationed. The ball crashed through the deck railing, barreling across the deck, fragmenting and wrecking havoc among the Masriqi. But fortunately it did not strike the mast or the hull, rather the fragments skipped across the deck and exited the far side of the ship and sped out over the open sea. Still the deck was awash in our sailors' blood. Then suddenly, Radiant Lightbringer was there, pearly light emanating from him as he knelt among the wounded and prayed. A miracle, the wounds of our injured comrades began to close as they stepped back from death’s dark door.
Meanwhile, Tello and his Jack Tars ignored the chaos behind them and feverishly reloaded their cannon. Now, my Order mostly focuses on boarding action and hand to hand fighting, but we are not incompetent when it comes to canonry. I have seen The Mithra's Blessing fire as much as one broadside every three minutes, which we account quite a good performance. Tello's gun crew of Jack Tars was at least twice as fast as that, it was almost supernatural how fast they readied those great guns. They were so quick that they managed a second volley in the time it took our second ship. The Wild Rose to get in position and unleash her first. Both of our ships fired at almost the same time, and that was the end of Crabtalker.
When the smoke cleared, we saw the sloop listing badly, drifting, her forward deck on fire, and Crabtalker's corpse floating face down in the sea.
For a moment one of those strange, random silences that one sees occasionally in even the most intense combat, gripped the battlefield. Then we saw Bigtime point at Crabtalker's corpse. And he laughed. The other giants on his huge ship laughed with him, and then their massive ship surged forward.
At this point Dakhir played his trump card.
The Abbey of Saint Ursula was extremely old, and its dungeons held many artifacts and relics, most of which the Sisters had forgotten about. In fact, the Undercroft below the Abbey that held most of these treasures had been declared off limits for many years, infested as it was with evil and insane spirits and other dangers. The Jezebels however, had dared those cursed halls in search of power to save the Abbey. And one of those artifacts was now resting in Dakhir's hands.
The scroll was old, very old, and powerful, very powerful. Dakhir believed it had been written by the legendary Uriel Ram himself, the same sorcerer that founded the Paderian College of Sorcery that still endures to this day. Dakhir admitted that the magic within the scroll was well beyond his abilities to invoke, and could prove extremely dangerous if not outright fatal to us all if he failed to control the sorcery.
Under normal circumstances he would deem using the scroll too dangerous. But, as my mother often says "Desperate times call for desperate measures.". We had bloodied the giants with our first volleys, but not as much as we had hoped. The Mithra's Blessing was firing as well now, and Bigtime's first shot had missed, but the giants were firing back with small arms that matched our cannon in size. Their main strength survived, and now surged toward us. They seemed undaunted. As I compared their velocity to our reload speed, I doubted we could sink enough of them in time to prevent them from boarding us. Dakhir had reached the same conclusion.
I watched as the other magically inclined Jezebel's responded to his call, left their posts and came forward, ringing him in a circle, and began chanting, lending him their power and focus. Fantastic Freddy was singing an ancient melody, Tello was humming some old saga, Whisperleaf was tracing runes of green fire in the air with his hands. And in the center of his friends, the focus of all their will and support, Dakhir read the scroll of Uriel Ram. And screamed in pain. And the sky answered.
At first they appeared as nothing more then falling stars, strangely visible in the afternoon sky. But falling stars heading straight toward us. They moved with incredible speed, as I watched they quickly grew from bright points of light to huge balls of smoldering flame. Dakhir was gesturing desperately, trying to control the four meteors, send them toward our enemy. And away from us.
At the last moment, our enemy tried to save himself. The giant shaman, Za-Dak, had not made himself felt on the battlefield as of yet, holding back his power, but as he saw his doom approaching, he acted. He raised his great staff and the huge bell attached to the end of it rang wildly. And one of the meteors that had been hurtling toward him, deflected to the side. But just one, and there were four, and Dakhir, ever cautious, had sent two of them toward Bigtime and his crew.
The impact was a cataclysm for the giants. Of the four meteors, only two hit their intended targets, but that was enough. One, that had been targeted at one of the rearmost longships, near the left of the formation, went off course and impacted the sea, accomplishing naught but the raising of a huge wave and a massive plume of steam. Unfortunately for that longship, the meteor Za-Dak had deflected crashed into its stern. The ship exploded and broke apart in a shower of flame and steam.
It's sister ship on the right side was struck directly amidship and momentarily seemed confused about whether to break apart, explode or burn. Rather then choosing one it did all three simultaneously.
The Headstomper, Bigtime's flagship, was heavily built and managed to survive the initial shock of the strike, dead amidships. Masts cracked and were thrown down and all the giants between the forecastle and sterncastle died, the ship was dead in the water, burning across multiple decks, clearly mortally wounded, but she didn't explode and she was not yet sunk.
Now, giants are clearly too massive to ride horses or any of the standard mounts of the smaller races. But they have steeds of their own. This particular breed preferred giant crabs, fast on land or sea, mighty in battle, and large enough to carry them. The late and not lamented Crabtalker had been especially fond of such and had even carried one aboard his ship into battle, typically perched on the stern of his sloop.
It was this crab that Bigtime summoned, and as DeathClaw answered, swimming toward the stricken flagship, the huge giant gracefully leaped from the prow of his burning, sinking ship and landed on the crab's back.
At the same time, illuminated by the flames, I could see through my scope the giant who had been standing next to Bigtime on the stern, was also seeking escape. This giant, I had been told, went by the name Leatherface, due to the mask of human skin she wore. She had been ready on the bow with her great grapples in her hand, waiting to board her prey. Now, as she saw her chieftain abandoning his doomed ship, she did the same.
With a great leap, she covered most of the distance to Crabtalker's sloop, then threw her grapples. The grapples bit, and she drew herself up on the quarterdeck. The sloop had been badly ravaged before the mast, but the rear, including the mast and great sail was still intact. The surviving crew had rallied and managed to put the fires out, and they gave a great cheer as Leatherface joined them, ready to rejoin the fight.
Bigtime gave another giant roar, swinging his cannon over his head and rallying his remaining ships. The giants had been hideously hurt, more then half their fleet was sunk or burning. Of the two ships remaining, both were small and injured. But they had closed most of the distance to our line.
"What's that strange looking cloud to port!" I heard Ricmo ask sharply. "I don't like the look of that! Hard to Starboard!"
The evasive action, necessary as it was in order to avoid the strange cloud of noxious green gas that had suddenly appeared on our lee, unfortunately turned our cannon away from any possible target. As the Lady Jezebel passed out of cannon arc, veering away from the green cloud, I took a moment to sweep my scope sternward across our line to see how my Uncle and my shipmates were faring.
As expected, the last ship in our line was the last to engage the enemy and the most at risk of being boarded. The Mithra's Blessing was being charged by the remaining longship. That longship had been horribly battered but she was still serviceable, half her crew remained and they were eager for blood. Having exhausted his port broadside, and realizing he was likely to be overtaken by the faster, oared vessel, my uncle turned his bow toward his enemy and fired his chasers, trying to inflict any bit of damage he could before the two ships rammed each other and he was likely boarded by the Goliath crew.
Being boarded still represented a significant threat. While now outnumbered, the goliaths were much larger and stronger than any man, seven feet tall and bursting with muscle. Being the rearmost ship it would be extremely difficult for the other two ships to come about and help. A desperate fight loomed before my brave comrades. As I swept my scope over my friends and my beloved ship, I saw something strange in the sea alongside her. Marley. The Druid's creation.
"Lightbringer, can you do something about that green cloud?" Ricmo called out. "I need to come around to port or else we will exit the fight”. From amidships, Lightbringer nodded, and raised his hands to the heaven. A white light cut down from the sky and the cloud vanished in its radiance. Commodore Ricmo grinned and ordered The Sturg, his helmsman, to turn back and engage the sloop and the remaining giant.
Now at this point many things happened simultaneously, only some of which I directly observed, others I had to piece together after the fact. But I believe this is an accurate account, or as accurate as any account of such a chaotic action could be.
Near the end of our line, as my Uncle and the The Mithra's Blessing prepared to receive boarders, Marley acted. Surging forward, the kelp creature engulfed the giant longship. Marley did not seem to have any way to directly attack the giants, but what he could do was foul them. As the great bulk of his fronds and tendrils surged around the giants, it was as if they had run aground on a shoal. Their oars fouled, their keel held fast, their forward progress ended abruptly.
My Uncle reacted instantly, realizing the risk of boarding had momentarily been circumvented, he wore hard to starboard. His port battery still not reloaded, he ordered his men to pour musket and swivel fire into the enemy at point blank range. The giants replied with arrows and a single light cannon in the bow, but this crew had little in the way of firearms and were no match for our paladins. The well aimed musketry tore into them, hurting them badly. As the enemy saw the great guns being run out again, reloaded and ready for a point blank broadside, they struck their colors.
In the center of the line, Rose and the Thorns had reloaded their port broadside, and promptly emptied the entire line of cannon, six twelve pounders, into Bigtime, in addition to copious small arms and swivels, Laura Crimsoncloak joining in the barrage with her fireballs. Giants are made of stern stuff, and Bigtime more than most, but all flesh is mortal. As his last shot went wide, they tore him to pieces, so much so that all we found was his torso and a bit of his head.
As I said earlier, I did not directly observe any of this, because, at this point The Lady Jezebel was fighting for her life.
The Sloop was coming straight at us, wounded, only one giant remaining along with a dozen of the Golaiths, but that giant was Leatherface with her mighty grapple. We were a good 30 yards away when she snared us, and with three mighty heaves she was alongside, and they were among us.
And that was the point where Za-Dak the shaman sprang his attack. In the form of the Orca he sprang from the sea, leaping over the bow and, with perfect timing he resumed his true form standing on our bow.
Za-Dak did not hesitate, both heads chanting in unison he summoned two bolts of lightening, preparing to send them streaking down the length of our ship, bow to stern.
It was Fantastic Freddy the Bard who saved us. As the lightening formed in the creature's hands, Freddy lifted his guitar and played a single chord. A chord so dissonant and atonal it was like God scratching his nails on the chalkboard of the universe. One of the heads howled and one of the lightning bolts died, stillborn. The second crackled forth, injuring many of us, but I fear if both those bolts had landed, none would have lived to tell this tale.
From my vantage on the quarterdeck, I could see it was Dakhir that lead the assault that killed the shaman. Wielding a long black rapier that glowed with an unearthly light, he rallied the men in a desperate charge, and Whisperleaf summoned the very ocean itself to aid him. As Za-Dak fell, Leatherface threw down her arms and surrendered. And the battle was over.
And that is the end of my account. I swear it is true, or at least as true as fallible human memory can make it. All praise to Mithras the Lightbringer, for it was by his grace that we were victorious that day.
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