With the battle over, the ships' need to flee was removed, and Mehment and Percinious signalled them to return. As the surviving freed Marmarkans passed them, heading down the headland to join their comrades, Percinious asked one to give Silverweave the message that they'd like him to join them.
While they waited, they began to feel the weariness and thirst of the struggle, and wished that they had some ale or wine to drink. Wine! Of course, they had the Chalice... A few moments later, Percinious had splashed some water into the golden cup and turned it to face him. Allowing just a trickle of magic into it from his own reserves rather than those of the Maugre Claw, he awaited developments with some trepidation.
A few seconds later, pale golden liquid started to flow out of the Chalice, and Mehmet hastily shoved a waterskin underneath. It felt cool and pleasant as it ran over their fingers, and neither could resist licking a few drops off. The taste was delightful - and moreish.
Three skins later Nutbolter was beginning to wonder about stopping the flow, when without any warning it stopped on its' own. With narrowed eyes he examined the skins and compared them to the Chalice. Around eight times its' capcity, probably... and the thing had eight sides. Hmn. He glanced into it, and then drained the half-full Chalice in one draught.
The taste was glorious. He felt his tired muscles relaxing, and the little scuffs and scrapes left by running and fighting in armour eased and vanished. He felt refreshed as if he'd slept for hours, and his magical energy also seemed to be less reduced too. His expression was enough for Mehmet, and he too scooped a cup and drank.
The effects weren't just physical. Both had been spiritually low also, the cruel tragedy that had led their friends in Bloodwind's Company to their deaths weighing on their souls. Now, their spirits lightened; they felt cheered, sustained, encouraged.
About ten minutes later, Silverweave and Syrkist came up the slope and sat down. Mehmet handed around the wine skin, and both drank deeply. Silverweave was clearly impressed. "If I had a barrel of this stuff, I could get them to march on Hell!" he commented. Mehmet filed this away for future reference.
Silverweave sighed. ''There's no sign of your friend Bloodwind," he said moodily. "I would have liked to have met him. Running away doesn't sound like the man you describe." This was true, and left Mehmet and Percinious wondering. "Watch out as we embark," they warned, "he may yet try something.''
Before leaving the headland, they took considerable care to push the remains of the ballistae off the cliff - better safe than sorry!
Hunting around, Mehmet and Percinious found some tracks leading into a tumbledown entrance in the side of the cliff, within the city walls. It looked like one man in armour being dragged by another; there was blood in the tracks. With caution, they entered the opening; it turned out to be an entrance to a set of storage chambers cut into the rock. To the right were a succession of grain stores, which proved to be empty; to the left (seaward) the tracks led to where passage ended in steps down, the third of which was under water.
Both Percinious and Mehmet tried to swim through the flooded passage but to no avail. Abandoning that, they emerged and tried walking the headland above, pacing out the passage on the hill. Reaching the crest, they looked down, and saw waves lapping against a small cave just along the line of the passageway they’d been following.
Sending for the best swimmer in Silverweave’s army, they sent him back to the store to swim along through the passage to the exit they now knew where to find. Sure enough a few minutes later he appeared at the cave mouth and waved, then turned and started fishing objects out of the water.
Intrigued, Mehmet and Percinious abseiled down to get a closer look. Confirming their suspicions, they discovered a suit of Cormaran armour, Rurik’s own rather splendid mail (hacked and rent), and his sword and dagger. Bloodwind had escaped, all right, hauled out of the battle by one of his men and persuaded to swim away when it became obvious all was lost. Percinious took his high-crowned helm, which was better than his own.
By the time they got down to the bottom of the headland, it was too late to ensure that all their half-Qhal cadre were embarked on one ship, although the majority of them were. Embarking on the flagship, the pair watched alertly as the coast of Cormar slipped away, but nothing sudden happened.
During the voyage, there was little to do but plot and learn. Both PCs learned a good smattering of the Dorlan language, greatly improving their communication with the members of Silverweave’s army. Percinious spent quite a lot of time reading the various books of Qhalur lore he’d accumulated, increasing his knowledge of the written form of that fluid and eldritch tongue, and Mehmet practiced with his slender sword.
| Item | Powers | Notes |
|---|---|---|
| Ivory Carving | Skin of Life-2 | Unpowered spell matrix |
| Skin from Khaeru's Hand | Dominate Human-2 | Unpowered spell matrix |
| Koyagurfer | 7 MP store, Tap POW-2 |
One day, Zamyr Silverweave sat watching the former ranger stepping through the forms, and offered to spar with him. Mehmet agreed, and the deck cleared like magic. All around – at a safe distance – soldiers and sailors hung from the rigging or sat atop the deckhouses, watching to see what would happen.
Silverweave borrowed a straight sword from one of his men, and hefted it carefully. It looked like a toy in his huge hand, but he gripped it knowledgeably and signaled Mehmet to begin. The first few clashes were testing, probing, exploring each other’s style and strengths; then Silverweave sped up and landed a touch. Mehmet nodded to acknowledge and, after a pause to regain their breath, the duel resumed.
Silverweave was bearing down harder now, and Mehmet was moving just about as fast as he’d ever done to keep the blade from him. Increasing the stakes, Silverweave split his attack, striking twice instead of once. To his – and everyone else’s – amazement, Mehmet made both parries. Capitalizing on the surprise, the smaller man went all-out, disdaining defence for a wild assault which drove Silverweave back although without landing a blow. The huge man returned to the attack in a whirl – and both struck at the same angle and at precisely the same instant. The blades locked in a shower of sparks, crossed between the two hard faces for a poised instant. Then both laughed, and the tension was broken. New respect for each other gained, they ended their sparring session and opened a keg of ale instead.
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