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Limitless Seas, new chapter
🕑 Added 2022-01-17 21:16:05 +0000 UTCHi everyone, I need to explain a bit about today's chapter. I felt the story needed a bit more action earlier in the book, and given some of the events that will happen later, this was a perfect fit. This is the new chapter five, and I'll renumber the others (and tweak them a bit) for the final draft. I hope you all had a great weekend and are staying warm, we've been hit with a lot more snow than usual and I've had to play taxi driver all day for the family on the icy roads.
Chapter 5.
Larson was left alone with his thoughts as watched Shada head back toward the docks. He didn’t begrudge her that she kept her past from him, she was under no obligation to unless it affected him and his crew, which it had this time. The problem wasn’t with Shada, it was with how many other problems were lying under the surface with his officers and crew? Tarley and Bug Bartholomew both had some unknown class according to the system that governed this world, did that mean some old enemy or debt collector was going to show up? What if another mage came along to try and capture the ogre for more experimentation?
It wasn’t productive to play the “what if” game, but it might have been preferable to the current task at hand, buying fancy clothing for Lord Mox’s party. Larson was a direct man, and playing politics was the exact opposite of how he liked to work. Sadly, in this world, just as in his previous one, playing a bit of politics was needed if you wanted to carve out your little piece of the planet. Once he had amassed enough power, he could safely ignore requests to attend events by the town’s elite, but he wasn’t even close to there yet and needed the patronage of the lords of this city if he was going to keep his ship and crew working as privateers.
He hadn’t spent much time at the tavern, but night had finally crept in. There wasn’t going to be anything resembling a fine clothing shop in this part of town, and he wasn’t keen on spending the night standing in front of the seedy dockside tavern. He would need to move further into the city, toward the merchant district if he wanted to find a proper tailor. While the clothing shops might not be open after dark, he could at least eyeball a few of them and see if what they displayed in the front window was something he could put up with wearing. Bulling his way past a couple of drunks stumbling from the bar, Larson heard something over the din of the tavern.
Bells rang out at the docks and their call was slowly being answered with similar ringing throughout the city. Some of the patrons streamed from the bar, but most seemed to ignore the ringing and went back to the cheap but strong swill the establishment served. Larson grabbed one of the men leaving the bar, a dockworker based on his garb. The man let out a squeal of fear when the huge naga grabbed him, but Larson held up an empty hand to show he wasn’t attacking.
“Hold up, what do those bells mean?” Larson asked the frightened man.
“You must be new in town, that’s the warning bells, they only sound out if the city’s being attacked. We’s being invaded we is,” the man babbled out, the drink slurring his speech. Larson let him go and headed toward the docks where his ships were berthed. Fancy clothing could wait, if there was a battle underway, he wanted to be near his ships and crew.
The crowds were all running away from the docks area, which told him that, unfortunately, that was where the disturbance was likely located. Luckily, there weren’t all that many people on the street, mostly the few overnight workers and those from the day shift that wanted to enjoy a drink or a meal before they headed home. Two guardsmen ran past him, and Larson shouted after them as he caught up.
“What’s happening out there?” Larson asked the guardsmen.
“Stay away from the docks, sir, some kind of attack going on. The guard is being called in and the militia will join us if it’s something we can’t handle,” the guard said waiving him back.
“Not a chance, my ships and crew are out there. We can hold our own in a fight, and if this is something serious, you may want us in the fight rather than running with our tails between our legs,” Larson replied, charging past the two somewhat out-of-shape guardsmen.
He thought that he recognized the pair as belonging to the group of guards assigned to his section of the docks. He fed them and tossed a few coins their way to help keep a sharp eye on his ships for him. Most were good enough folks, and competent in a fight, but he knew they were more geared toward dealing with drunken sailors than fighting a full-scale war. Typically the warships in the city’s employ dealt with external threats before they even got close, and their marines were much better armed and trained for battle.
Passing the last few buildings, he finally got a view of the dockyards and his ships. Thankfully, neither seemed to be under any direct attack, and all the crew that was not on leave were standing to, armed and ready to repel any attackers. As far as attackers, he didn’t see any. The two guards that normally patrolled near his ships were at the end of the dock, blocking anyone who might try and board. They recognized Larson and waived him through, not that the two lightly armed guards could have stopped him if they wanted to.
“Any idea who’s attacking us?” Larson asked as he passed.
“No, sir, all I know is that the alarm bells sounded, starting down around docks three or four. Our orders in this situation are to stand fast at our assigned area and wait for the reaction force to arrive,” One of the guards answered.
The pair looked nervous and kept a hand on their sheathed weapons. Lightly armed for the evening patrol, they wore only a leather jerkin with a steel cap helm. Each had a shortsword and a small cudgel to deal with thieves and those causing trouble. The two guards that he had passed on the way there made a beeline to join them, reinforcing the pair already on duty. From what the guards told him, the warning bells didn’t sound often, but when they did, it was never a false alarm. Whatever was happening wasn’t happening near them and Larson gathered his officers together aboard the Sea Venom. Even if half the crew were out on leave, all his officers were back for the evening.
“We don’t know what’s going on just yet, so let’s just keep everyone that’s still aboard armed and ready for a fight. Ibn, how many marines are aboard?” Larson asked.
“Other than myself, four of the Fangs of the Serpent are aboard and I have a pair on each ship supporting the sailors,” Ibn advised.
“How many crew do we have?” Larson asked Tarley.
“Only twelve, and they’re all armed and ready,” Tarley replied.
“We’s got arms and is ready too,” Bartholomew added.
“What my brother means is that we’re ready to assist in any way we can,” Bug added.
“Good, Is our ballista ready yet?” Larson asked.
“No, I was in the process of rebuilding it and had planned on finishing it up tomorrow. It will take me a few hours to cobble a functioning weapon back together,” Bug said.
“I don’t think whatever’s happening is going to last that long, given that there’s no invasion fleet sailing into the harbor. We’ll have to just rely on the portable ballista you have mounted on your arm for the time being, as well as a couple of archers in the crow's nests,” Larson ordered.
With nothing else to add, the officers left his cabin to join the crew and prepare both ships for a fight. They made ready to cast off in case it turned out that sailing away from the harbor was the right choice. The crew was as prepared as they could be, and the rest of their crew had already begun to trickle in from the town, giving him more swords to fight off anything that headed their way. He sent Ibn to talk to the four guards at the end of the dock, letting them know they could fall back to the ships if something too difficult showed up.
“I see fighting over on docks eight and nine!” Quix called out from the crow's nest. The sailor manning the same position on the Lost Soul called out the same warning.
“Stand ready, Ibn, join me and Shada to investigate what’s going on, Tarley, you and Bug Bartholomew stay here and keep an eye on things,” Larson ordered, hurrying down the gangplank and back onto the docks, the trio moving toward the sounds of fighting.
The lookouts hadn’t been able to figure out much in the dark, the few lanterns that were hung near the docks left them only enough light to make out some large figures engaged in a fight with the guards positioned there. The distinct sound of Bug Bartholomew’s arm-mounted ballista sounded out, drawing Larson’s attention back to their ships about the same time one of the guards let out a blood-curdling scream of pain.
Coming out of the water near his ships were several large and familiar figures, the sharklike features of a makon were hard to miss. One splashed back down into the water near the Sea Venom with Bug Bartholomew’s ballista bolt sticking out of its head. Another had the screaming guard in his arms, the tooth-filled mouth of the monstrous humanoid already tearing gobbets of flesh out of the doomed man. It took the other three guards precious time to get over their shock and draw their weapons.
Shada charged toward the injured guardsman while Ibn and Larson moved to engage the nearest makon. More of the attackers were emerging from the water, using their impressive strength to pull their bulk onto the dock with little trouble. Once on dry ground, the makon roared and coughed as they spewed out water and began to breathe air. Larson knew from experience it wasn’t a good feeling when you shifted from breathing water to breathing air, but the discomfort didn’t seem to hamper the makon in the slightest, instead, they seemed to almost be whipped into a feeding frenzy now that fresh blood had been spilled nearby.
The pair of sailors in the crow’s nest began to fire, arrows raining down on the emerging makon. Another of the guardsmen fell to the tooth-filled maw of the makon before Larson reached them. Leading with a shield bash, Larson knocked one of the makon off the dock and back into the water. The other, happily feasting on a guardsman, had his meal interrupted by a magically imbued thrust of Larson’s spear, the two prongs releasing piercing damage as they struck, blasting two holes through the creature's chest. The makon roared once and toppled over dead as Larson activated his second shield bash, knocking another attacker into the drink.
Knocking aquatic creatures into the water wasn’t the most effective thing, but it did delay the flow of attackers, causing them to get in each other's way as they climbed up from the sea. Ibn hacked down another of the attackers and seeing they were going to soon be overrun, called for them all to retreat to the Sea Venom. The archers and Bug Bartholomew fired on any makon climbing up between them and the ships while Shada lead the way along with the final surviving guardsman.
“Keep an eye out for boarders from all sides, these beasts can climb up if we give them a chance,” Larson ordered, worried that the makon would swarm them from all angles. He held the gangplank alongside Ibn, who was tearing apart the few makon trying to board. From his experience, the makon normally swarmed toward the nearest meal, but instead of attacking the ships, the bulk of the makon charged into the city, leaving only a handful behind to attack the pair of ships and their crews.
“I think we’ve held them off, at least for the moment,” Larson said as Bug Bartholomew fired a ballista bolt into the final attacker trying to board.
“Where are they going? It’s like something other than the scent of prey is driving them into a frenzy. Look over there, all the makon are heading in the same direction,” Quix called out from the crow's nest.
Larson looked over to the nearest dock, which was much better lit now that a lantern had shattered, the flame engulfing a stack of nearby supply crates. The makon there had finished off the small group of guards protecting that area and were running deeper into the city in the same direction as the others. A pair of the makon seemed content to finish their meal of the guardsmen, and instead of following their kin, grabbed their kills and leaped back into the sea.
“They’re heading straight for the noble district, the watch there will deal with them,” the surviving guardsman said. Larson had a moment's panic before realizing that the path of the attackers wasn’t going to go anywhere near Lucian and his family. With both ships secured for the moment, Larson was anxious to see how the attack panned out.
“I’ll take two marines and two of the crew to follow the makon, we need to make sure they don’t change direction and head back here or toward Lucian’s shop. The rest of you stay put and protect the ship, but if enough of the crew show back up, send a detail out to help protect Lucian’s family and the shop, just in case,” Larson ordered.
He hated taking two of the better fighters with him, but he might need some help if the makon turned on him suddenly, or if he wanted to send a message back. Even now, the last of the sailors that had been out on leave were starting to return, which would help bolster the forces protecting the ships if the makon decided to attack again. Larson's small force followed in the wake of the makon advance, weaving their way through the docks and warehouse districts. A few bloody patches of ripped clothing revealed where some unfortunate had been outside at the wrong time and fell prey to the teeth and claws of the humanoid predators.
At one intersection it looked like the guard had tried to halt the makon advance. Weapons, bits of armor, and bloodstains marked the location of the battle, the makon consuming even the bones of their enemies. From what Larson had learned about the creatures they would eat just about everything, their strong stomach acid eventually even breaking down bone. They weren’t picky about their meals, either, also consuming any of the fallen makon. Without bodies left behind, Larson had no way of knowing how makon the doomed defenders took with them, but he would guess at least a few of the attackers fell to the defenders’ blades.
To Larson’s surprise, only a few of the buildings seemed to have been bothered by the makon, he figured the few that had been breached, must have had someone foolishly show themselves, or perhaps they waited too long to seek cover, triggering the attack instinct of the shark-like makon. More evidence of hastily set roadblocks was seen, as the guard figured out the course the makon were taking and rallied to the city’s defense. It wasn’t until they left the warehouse district into the nicer residential areas that they started to see bodies, the makon were finally too hard-pressed to stop and eat, whatever was driving them on overcoming even their normal instinct to feed.
The sounds of fighting were heard in the distance, along with shouted orders and flashes of light. They slowed their pace, not wanting to find themselves running into the middle of the entire makon force. Larson also looked out for a hiding place, if the enemy broke and ran in his direction, he wanted something sturdy to shelter behind. One of his crew had the same idea, given the question he asked.
“Sir, shouldn’t we maybe try to not follow their path directly? We could use a side street and avoid the main group of makon while still keeping an eye on them, one of the marines said.
“Aye, you’re right, head one street to the right and we’ll continue, a bit more cautiously now, I think,” Larson agreed. The sounds of fighting grew louder as they approached, whoever was defending up ahead was putting up a good fight. In the distance, he could see a small barricade made from an overturned wagon blocking the side street they were on. A small squad of nervous guards manned the barricade, and when they saw Larson’s group, they frantically waved them forward. Figuring the defenders knew something he didn’t Larson complied, running his small band of sailors and marines toward the blockade.
“What are you lot doing out? Them makon could show up here any second, you should be seeking shelter,” a guardsman asked.
“We’re from the Sea Venom, a privateer in service to the harbor. We fought these things back at the docks and wanted to track where they were heading to see if we could help,” Larson said, hoping that his somewhat obscure position as a privateer might mean they had more leeway than a normal citizen.
“I appreciate the effort, but the five of you won’t do a whole lot of good on your own, there are dozens of them beasties. The only reason we haven’t been overrun is because they all seemed to be focused on the main road toward the noble district. We were supposed to get reinforcements, but so far, everything has been funneled toward the big fight,” the guardsman told them. Larson looked around, seeing the hasty barricade was only manned by eight guardsmen, all equipped the same as those at the docks.
“From what I’ve seen, these monsters seem to be in a frenzy, and I don’t think you’ll see more than a few leaking through. I want to get a look at the main attack, will this lead me there safely?” Larson asked. The city wasn’t too hard to navigate, having a mostly grid-like layout, but he didn’t want to go traipsing off thinking he was behind the lines and find himself walking into a mass of attackers.
“Aye, you’ll be fine, I think, unless they started breaking their way through the buildings, the beasties are focused on pressing past the defenders on the main road,” the guard replied.
“Good, I’ll take one man with me, the other three can stay here to help you out in case any makon show themselves,” Larson said. He wanted to move fast and having only a single crewman with him to act as a messenger would make it easier to find a place to hide if things went south. He felt bad for the guardsmen here at the barricade, they likely had been forgotten about in the haste to stop the main attack.
“I appreciate that sir, an extra three swords would be most welcome,” the guardsman said, visibly relieved to have some extra help, even if it came from someone other than a town guard.
Larson and the sailor at his side, a human named Derk that looked like he had some orc blood in his lineage, moved toward the sounds of battle. Up ahead he could see a line of guardsmen holding back the makon attack. These guards were much better equipped than the usual ones he’d worked with. Sporting chainmail, triangular shields, and long spears, they were blocking up the street nice and neat. The brute strength of the makon was pushing them slowly back, but the double rank of spearmen was supported by several archers who Larson could see stalking about the rooftops, raining arrows down on the invaders.
A bright flash momentarily blinded Larson as a man in robes behind the line of spearmen unleashed a spell. A bolt of electrical energy was lobbed over the top of the defenders to land amid the makon. The ball clipped a pair of attackers sending them into bone-cracking convulsions as the energy shot out to affect others nearby. The first pair and three other makon were killed outright, but the magic seemed to lose its strength the further it flowed, obviously hurting those it hit, but leaving them still in the fight.
Unfortunately, the bolt of electricity jumped from one of the makon and hit the line of guardsmen, their chainmail proving to be a great conductor, leaving three of them on the squirming ground before the spell ran out of steam. Makon unaffected by the magical assault took advantage of the breach in the lines, charging forward and widening the gap as the shield wall collapsed. Larson didn’t hesitate, moving forward to join in the defense, imbuing his spear with slashing damage as he went, sending word with Derk to bring the others on the double.
A few reserve troops pushed forward to contain the breach. These reserves were drawn from the regular guard and lacked the heavier armor and better weapons the spearmen were using. Larson got a better look at the fight as he emerged from the sidestreet. Piles of makon were strewn down the street, the defense of this area had turned into a massacre for the invaders. Only a couple of dozen attackers remained, but if they broke through, who knew what kind of mayhem they might cause amongst the citizens of the town.
Larson blocked a bite aimed at taking his head off, a horrible screeching sound was heard as the makon’s teeth skidded over the bronze facing of the shield. A counter thrust left the monster wounded but still in the fight, but Larson had other problems as a second attacker slammed a bite into his side, teeth digging into his torso. The armor he wore helped, but Larson could still feel teeth ripping into him. Larson felt his ribs creak under the pressure of the powerful bite, and was just about to use his venom when an arrow streaked in and pierced the skull of the makon, killing it instantly.
Unfortunately, the beast’s jaws were locked onto Larson, and he ended up tangled up with the dead monster, slicing his fingers to the bone as he tried to pry the jaws apart. At least nothing else came in for a bite, he was nearly helpless until he could get the makon off of him. Not wanting to lose his fingers to a dead makon’s teeth, Larson fumbled for his dagger, using it to hack and pry apart the deadly jaws.
“Hold, he’s on your side!” Derk called out. Larson could see the man leading the other three of his crew into the fight. The makon were on their last legs, and more guards were arriving every second. The mage had hosed down the attackers with fire magic, leaving three crispy corpses surrounding him. Sadly, the mage didn’t survive the encounter and Larson could see the man’s head still clutched in the teeth of another makon that had been, in turn, taken down by the archers on the rooftops.
Two of those archers had drawn a bead on Larson, hesitating as they tried to figure out who he was. Naga weren’t all that common in Stratwall Harbor, but it should have been obvious by the makon clamped onto his side, that Larson wasn’t in league with them. Seeing the small band of sailors and marines join the fight, they picked out other targets, of which there weren’t many left. With more guard reinforcements arriving by the minute, they soon had put down the last makon.
“Thank you for stepping in and helping. They might have broken into the city if you hadn’t delayed them long enough for the reserves to arrive,” a guard captain told Larson, offering to shake his hand.
“I’m not sure that letting a makon chomp on me and tripping up the rest is a tactic I can recommend,” Larson said, pointing to several makon teeth that remained lodged into his armor.
“No, I can’t say that’s going to become part of our training drill, still, thank you and your crew, I understand that you’re the privateer that did in Furious Fontaine, for that you have my thanks as well. I’m Captain Ruthern, if I can ever be of help, let me know,” the captain said.
“Thank you, captain, I may take you up on that someday, for now, if this is the last of the attackers, I’m going to head back to my ship and let our surgeon pry these teeth out of me,” Larson replied, wincing at the pain, but happy to have gained some favor with a guard officer. He was known among the dockyard guardsmen but having contacts in the higher ranks could pay off in the future.
Other than Larson, none of the others had been injured in the fight, and once back at the Sea Venom, Shada was able to heal him up easily enough after Bug Bartholomew plucked the makon teeth out of him. There had been no further attacks, and just to be safe, he ordered leave canceled and a double watch set. Normally, that kind of order would be met with groans and anger from the crew, but they knew that there was still the threat of further attacks. It didn’t hurt that the city ordered a curfew which closed the taverns down for the rest of the night.
“Just what do you think they were after?” Tarley asked as they held an officer’s call the next day.
“I have no idea, and I fear that this was something more than your average makon raid. Make sure everyone has a weapon on them as they go about their duties today, and nobody goes into town alone after dark. The curfew will lift tonight, and I won’t begrudge the crew a good time, but we also need to be cautious,” Larson ordered. The day had already been planned out, with everyone going about their duties, trying to find and recruit crew while getting the ships ready for another voyage. Larson wished he could spend the day working, but he still had to find a tailor who would be willing to make him something for the evening’s party at Lord Mox’s estate. He had hoped the party would be canceled due to the attack, but he wasn’t that lucky.
Comments
Thanks, it's going to take a few tweaks to the other chapters, but I think you'll see why it matters when we get close to the end of book.
We're in Knoxville TN and it usually only snows a couple of days a year and since we have an AWD Subaru, we're the popular family when it snows.
Rahul
This adds a great new aspect to the story. I could just envision the whole scene and it was awesome.
Craig Carey
I like the revision to the earlier setup....very nice.....It is also snowing here in NH and I seem to be a taxi driver as well for the family....LOL
