The Wicked Spiral

Crrrrack! went Thunder after Lightning smiled and blinded three city blocks. But Johannes was unaware. He was vaguely aware of a very wet situation all over his self, but as he was enjoying pleasant dreams where he was probably covered in sweat, this didn’t seem such a bad thing. On the other side of town, his companions were out shopping and running errands, apparently without much care as to his whereabouts.

Sometime around 2 o’clock, or as near as anyone could tell in the constant grayness of the storm, the group went looking for him. After a couple of hours sorting through conflicting reports of a dazed half-orc wandering the town handing out pamphlets, the group found a lead. Or more accurately, a dead end. Well, a broke end anyway. The perceptive thief spotted Johannes’ clothes hanging over a small barrel with a weak fire surrounded by a few beggars. With some intense questioning from Froderick, the group decided to look down the alley, fearing the worst for their friend.

But alas, Voldur looks after his own. The found Johannes at the end of the alley wearing only his undergarments, starved and passed out from exhaustion. The took him back to the temple and revived him, finding that his memory was little more than a pleasant haze. All he knew for certain was that his pretty new dragonscale gauntlets belonged to Voldur now, as all holy relics belong to their respective deities.

A few blocks over a small band of nasty and somewhat deformed fish-like humanoids climbed from a storm drain. Armed with no more than cheap rusty daggers and a penchant for evil, they ransacked a nearby weapon shop, killing the owner. The heroes arrived in time to see the last weapon being carried out – a large battle axe. Too large to fit down the hole, Vorliss took the opening to web the hole, the axe, and the two unluck locathsin left above. Battle was thus joined with one being crushed by Froderick in a single swipe, another split in twain by a might blow from Kleggadin, two more cleaved by Froderick, another chopped down by Kleggadin’s axe, and the remaining two picked apart. But this was only a raiding party.

Shouts arose from the docks, and the group hurried after. Bursting through the gates, they skidded to a halt, taking in the scene. Six city guard were desperately fending off a dozen more of the creatures, and two locathah with another 4 locathsin just climbed onto the dock. The battle was long and fierce, but the guard managed to survive with only minor wounds, many of the fish things falling to solitary blows.

Panting from the battle, the party tried to regroup when a streak of lightning shot from somewhere off the dock, striking Froderick in the chest and staggering him. Another flash of lightning, this one from the sky, briefly illuminated a boat about 100 ft. off the dock, darker than the sky around it. The group pulled back near the wall, sending the guard inside, and letting Johannes bless everyone with waterwalk. With a maniacal laugh following its wake, a roiling fireball slammed into the group, catching everyone but the gnome, who managed to roll out of the way. After this there was some flying warriors, a failed psychic attack, a flaming sphere, and spiritual hammer, but all it spelled was doom for the robed figures on the boat who vanished Obi-wan style.

Obviously joyed by the seizure of the boat, the group quickly discovered what they had was an unexpected gem: a smuggler’s vessel! Low and fast, and full of hidden compartments. Most of the crew was bound up in the hold, along with:

Found: 16 rations, papers pertaining to the ship, maps, mottled blue/white sails, an ornate magical battle axe haft, a small metal tube wrapped in black cloth containing a length of magical wire of an unknown substance

The ship itself is completely black, including the sails, and has no external markings. They only found the name on one of the papers in the captain’s bunk: “The Bloody Dishonor”.