Rescue of The Hand of Fate
From the Journal of Rutegur Stonespeaker
* This document contains sensitive information from the Earthdawn adventure Prelude to War *
I found myself glaring at the Theran again. From my vantage point, viewing the group from Dyre-height, I could see he and Beleg chatting easily as they rode on, but was riding too far away to hear what they were saying. It felt very wrong to travel with this party of so-called Theran "adventurers". Their story was a little too convenient. That Heferat the Nethermancer would turn on his own companions and abandon them just as we were closing in on him, and that they should decide to wait for us to offer us assistance sounded too much like the standard Theran duplicity to me. My mood darkened as we traveled. That we were falling into their trap was obvious. Beleg talked blithely on, but I noted that he had not taken complete leave of his senses, I saw he had discretely directed Hezekiah and Trent to take up following positions. Apparently he had his own misgivings, although they manifested themselves in a strange way.
Beleg and the Theran talked on, while Krang ranged slightly ahead of them, intently focused on some beastmaster quest or another, stopping to examine a patch of grass here and a few trees along the path there. Trent and Hezekiah resolutely followed, warily watching our traveling companions, neither speaking much. Trent had seemed flushed and angry when he had rejoined us in Moonspear and I momentarily wondered what had befallen him. Hezekiah had been quiet and withdrawn since I had been forced to... discipline him there. But he seemed to be holding his tongue well now. I had apologized for injuring him so, but while the physical wound healed with the potion I gave him, his spirit seemed to harbor one that would not so easily be cured. I found myself missing his mean-spirited banter in spite of myself.
I snapped back to the present with the realization that the wind had picked up considerably. The force and suddenness of the onset startled me, and lifting my head I thought I heard shouting on the edge of the gale. Beleg and the Therans had quickened their pace and already crested the hill before us. I took the reigns and was on top of the hill in a few moments with Trent lightly running up beside.
"They're in trouble," said the Theran in his thick accent with disinterest, as someone might note a spilled glass. Before us was a Troll Drakkar, floundering in the wind, with large shapes landing heavily on its deck here and there and then taking to the air again. For a moment it seemed as if bolts of lightning were flying across the deck, as if a storm cloud had settled somewhere on the Drakkar. Beleg drew his bow and spurred his mount on, with Trent taking his own bow and sprinting after. Hezekiah plodded up, panting, and I pulled him onto Meatloaf's back. Meatloaf grunted, but seemed to think better of protesting and we follwed Beleg, Hezekiah attempting to level a crossbow ofn the flitting shapes.
We could see the Chimaera very clearly as we came up uner the ship. We grabbed tow lines hanging from it and quickly boarded the flying vessel. On the ship the crew was in chaos, Trolls attempting to fight off the chimaera while struggling to stay aloft in the intense wind.
I drew my axe and hewed one of them, the beast crying out in pain and rage at the blow. Hezekiah and Beleg set themselves as the deck shifted under our feet and each slashed a target, drawing more enraged cries from the attacking monsters. I hacked at mine again and again, the creature snapping at me with a lion's jaws and attempting to rake its claws across my shoulders. I saw Krang climb aboard, forcing one chimaera to cry out and fly from the deck shrieking, seemingly by only exerting his will, when another landed heavily on him. Drops of blood flew and he cried out, staggering from the injury. I charged to place myself between him and his attacker, succeeding in drawing its attention to me. Hezekiah groaned as an eel-head blasted him with a bolt of lightning, the blue arcs of energy rolling over him. He fell back, but quickly countered. Beleg backhanded a chimaera and it recoiled, growling. The chimaera I had originally battled roared and its eel-head's jaw opened wide to release a lightning bolt at me but I brought my axe down hard on its back and kicked it heavily behind the eel eye so that the beast fell dead on the deck, sliding as the ship pitched. Suddenly claws raked across my back and I rolled down the slope, my feet becoming entangled in a coil of rope. I found myself hanging from the Drakkar, the ground spinning far below me. I managed to grab onto the edge and pull myself back aboard. Just as I was taking my first steps across the deck, a chimaera swooped down upon me and I found myself rolling across the ship again. I caught the railing and wearily pushed myself to my feet again. The chimaera attacked again, clawing and biting, but I managed to avoid it and fumbled through my pack for my last potion of healing which I immediately quaffed. Magically my wounds began to close but my injuries were severe enough that I still felt lightheaded.
"Rutegur, take this!" shouted Beleg suddenly, nearly ramming a glass bottle down my throat. I felt my head clear, though, as the last of my wounds were magically bound and with vigor renewed I again entered the fray only to see Trent knocked down, unconscious. Before he could roll off of the deck I caught him and quickly grabbed a potion from his belt, reviving him. Hezekiah slid to the edge and braced himself against the rail with Beleg rolling after him. Brushing themselves off, we formed battle lines again and advanced on the rapidly weakening chimaera. Bewildered and disheartened by their slain, the chimaera began leaping from the airship and flying away.
A cheer went up as the crew recovered from the fatigue of battle. I leaned heavily on the rail and briefly reviewed the fight in my mind. It had not been our best. Looking around, I could that Trent and Krang were in poor shape. Beleg and Hezekiah were probably in worse condition than they appeared, as warriors they would not let themselves show any sign of weakness or injury. It was time we bind our wounds.
As I turned, seeing that the others were already tending to each other's wounds and to the injured crew's, I felt a sense of uneasiness settle over me. Below, Meatloaf munched grass contentedly, no doubt glad to be left out of the fighting for once. I found myself wondering if it was better to have a snake in the hand, or to know it waited somewhere in the brush. The Therans were gone.
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