Rain Harlow
patreon
Chapter 65: Out of the Frying Pan...
🕑 Added 2023-08-10 22:17:46 +0000 UTCWhy is it always out of the frying pan, into the fire?
The crew quieted as they caught the captain’s mood. Saw the flag. Heard the news spread around about who it was. The sailors began to look rather pale and frightened once more — only worse. The jazzhands guy was no longer even slightly jazzy.
Canmore, who was a good shot with the bow so was serving temporarily as an archer, shifted over to grab the greatsword with a hand and say, “Cheer up, boys! I’ll face that sack of pirate shit myself, and not with a weak weapon!” He held the sword up high, blade up. “This was the blade of Danomeir, the King of Murder! Let’s see how things fare for this supposed terror of the seas with me wielding this!”
Murmurs passed through the men, their spirits rising back up. “You bested Danomeir?” one asked.
Canmore opened his mouth in what was clearly going to be a denial, but Orswyth spun around and interjected, “I fear that the sergeant is too humble to ever directly admit such a thing. Decide for yourselves the truth with the weapon there in his hands.”
Orswyth gave a significant look to Canmore, who seemed quite stunned and offended by the matter, not one to desire taking someone else’s glory.
“It’s alright, Sergeant,” Sammy sent to him. “You can explain the truth and clear the air later. For now, they need to believe. You understand?”
“Ah… yes. Of course, Your Majesty Samantha.”
Indeed, the sailors seemed to be nodding along to each other. Getting convinced. Then someone called, “Hear hear!”
Another cried, “Aye, aye!”
Almost jazzhands. But someone stopped him with a firm shake of the head. Thankfully.
Cheers soon resounded again, this time to steel themselves for what was ahead, to psyche themselves up.
“Enough of your gods-damned blubbering, ya mangy gits!” the captain shouted balefully. “Archers, get yer asses clenched and fire before they do!”
A few arrows were launched from the crow’s nests, which essentially had a slightly better range from the superior height. One shot embedded low in the enemy hull, and another glanced off the side into the water.
The Strip’s archer group all stepped up to the back castle, aimed up high in an arc, and fired at the approaching pirate ship. Several arrows struck the hull or fell down onto what looked like held-up round shields.
In the next breath, arrows came down in answer — the instant the captain noticed, he barked a loud, clipped, “Arrows!” and marines, as well as sailors, held up a variety of large shields to protect themselves and anyone else that could huddle under them. Orswyth was one such.
From his perspective with the staff, Sammy heard the sounds of arrows thunking into the deck or into shields. Bast did not appear to need a physical shield — he had his hand held up where a protective magical version in the mimic of the pentagram flared out in a wide circle. No arrow ended up threatening him, however.
One man yelped in pain as his foot seemed impaled… then he sighed in relief. It was the sailor with the wooden prosthetic. One of his mates chided him for 'being a wuss.' Otherwise, there were no injuries.
Another volley went out. Sammy noticed several of the shield-bearers also had torches, and their own quivers with four or five arrows at their belt.
“Lord Orswyth, we have, what, specialty flaming arrows? Why aren’t they being used?”
“Range, accuracy. Heavy, specialized heads. Best to try them at half this or so.”
Bast waited until the arrows were in flight to unleash his Forcebolt, sending a rapid, streaking shock of blue-white force targeting the main mast.
Right before it impacted, a shield of shimmering force answered it, to which it simply exploded with a loud burst and was rebuffed.
“What?!” Bast exclaimed in frustration.
“Telekek fuckass Curse Eater,” the captain spoke like a vile curse. “Wraevaus’s wife and shaman. A duo the whole bloody world would be improved to have fuck off to the bottom of the fucking sea.”
“You certainly have a way with words, Captain.”
“Save yer damn mana, wizard- Arrows!” Another volley came down from the pirate ship. This time there was a scream as a man had a piercing arrow punch through a shield into his arm. Orswyth quickly rushed over to help, getting the arrow removed while assuring him he had a healing spell.
The exchange of archery continued, with a few more injuries on their side — possibly on the other, but the shield of force was still up and blocking some of them. The sails of both ships might’ve taken a few holes in them, but hardly enough to matter.
The artillerist shouted for everyone to clear, as he had loaded the catapult with a bunch of loose rock — antipersonnel sort of ammo with shorter range. Soon, it fired on the enemy ship in a spray, a portion unblocked by the magic and crashing into shields, shattering them and clearly injuring some of their enemies.
There was a cheer, though the artillerist was frowning already as he and his attendant scrambled to cock and reload the machine. From his doubtful expression looking over at the enemy vessel, he doubted he’d get another shot.
It got to be something only over a hundred meters between them… enough to see helmeted Naugite faces. Ram horns, pointed horns. A few faces were blue. One was in a helmet like a black skull, and his horns were tall and curved. It had to be Wraevaus.
I bet they could fire nastier things. They’re just afraid of the reflection. Well, maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t quite the right word… but they’re absolutely banking on boarding… a shaman-buffed champion…
“Orswyth, what are the odds they can see through my illusions?”
“Wraevaus and his wife? One hundred percent, Your Majesty. Some sort of ‘demon-blooded’ access, I am unsure what level, but they can obtain infrared vision at perhaps level 3, 4, 5, 6… perhaps varying with class. I’ve fought Naugite raiders enough to know that much. And that absolutely sees through normal illusions.”
“Great. And the lower levels?”
“Only if she has a spell. I can’t say.”
Preparations were made for flaming arrows — this time, the pirates were quicker and the first to launch them. The captain called, “Fire above!” as they could be seen arching down… at least they were easier to see in the reduced lighting.
There was nothing tremendously different after their landing than normal arrows… just that crew scrambled around with buckets of water to douse the flames. Thankfully it was all ‘normal’ fire.
Fiery arrows rained down on both sides as the vessels got nearer and nearer, and cries of ‘Fire!’ filled the air, as well as the occasional scream of pain. A few times the fire arrows passed through sails, but the brief contact, the wind, and perhaps a little bit of luck seemed to prevent ignition.
“Mast on fire!” came a call. Sure enough, an arrow had embedded into the main mast and was almost certainly going to quickly catch it on fire. Men began scrambling to deal with it, forming a line of climbers to bring up buckets.
Sammy clenched her fists not to toss an Icebolt at it. She’d have to activate the relic, though.
I have to save every moment of combat relevancy. They can handle it!
A man took an arrow in the leg trying to climb and help, but buckets were inevitably dumped on the fire, one man steadying another, both wrapped into the ladder-like rigging. Then the arrow was ripped out, to a few scattered cheers.
One of the fire-fighting crewmen then took an arrow right in the chest and soon tumbled to his death with a sickening crack onto the deck.
Sammy grimaced and shifted her attention away.
Another dead on my watch.
She noticed Tashome was all geared up for the potential, perhaps inevitable melee. He wore some sort of smooth, wooden armor and wielded a one-handed broadsword that had some sort of mild enchantment on it. His shield was more of a large buckler, held facing out from a straight fist as opposed to along an arm, but it had a built-in short blade, like a long dagger, sticking out of the top.
He was crouched down under the back castle in the alcove it made, which was also the helm and general navigation area where the captain would often be in normal travel. Tashome was not doing anything ship-related, though. He was tossing dice, puzzling over the results.
Sammy was also puzzled… and slightly annoyed, to see him doing something seemingly useless.
“Is that really what you should be doing right now?” She asked him mentally.
“Of course,” he answered distractedly, but confidently and without shame. “Spirits are turning their heads this way in curiosity… Fate is swaying and kicking like the stormy ocean… the dice are being odd and random... not good…”
Sammy frowned and shook her head. Like that’s unusual for dice? What is with him?
The enemy ship loomed large as the archery attrition continued. An archer fell from the crow’s nest, picked off by their opposing Naugite rival, who stuck out a long tongue and called out rude, joyous obscenities.
She watched an arrow hit Wraevaus right in the skull face — he did not so much as flinch as it shattered and splinted without harm. Despite the distance, she thought she heard him laugh.
Oh man, this is a tough em-effer, isn’t it…
As soon as the ship began making the turn to pull alongside instead of its endless tailing, the ballistas could finally be brought to bear. They’d been waiting quite a long time, and both fired as soon as the angle allowed — one shattered on the shifting shield of force while the other ripped through a wooden shield to impale a rather dumb Naugite, who dropped to the deck.
The pirate vessel did not appear to have ballistas, instead bristling all down the length of reinforced railing with attached, slightly oversized crossbows, manned by men showing only their well-armored helmeted heads. They held their fire, however. Clearly, they were not quick-loading.
Sammy began dropping her buffs among her front-line Followers, and Orswyth was already hitting the heathens with his own… and running low on his FE. Sammy burned one of hers to give him 10 more.
“Keep a reserve for healing,” She told him. “I can do that once more. And don’t forget to wait on Canmore with one.”
“Understood, Your Majesty!”
She was almost simultaneously instructing her two ‘mirror-shielders’ to present their shields at the side of the ship toward the enemy…
She finally caught sight of the shaman Telekek lurking at the back of the ship. A tall, large, blue-skinned Naugite woman in draping leather armor and cloak, face painted in whites and reds, holding something like a red scepter in her hand, but with two curving ends on either side. A two-headed snake. One amulet, a bronze pentagram, was in that same hand. More amulets and talismans draped her neck and were held in her offhand.
Her eyes were two thin slits, like a reptile's.
The shaman was also not actually on the deck, shockingly. She was standing on an irregular, but vaguely square piece of jagged stone floating above the deck, her feet bare upon it.
That’s handy — or should I say footsy? No, actually, I shouldn’t-
Sammy brought up a mirror shield to view through, and instantly she was aware of a Naugite crossbowman looking dead at it.
You’re mine.
She Mazed him, and in the struggle of wills he was crushed, something like the mental equivalent of an ogre stepping on a goblin. She decided to stick him in an actual maze, but she removed any mirrors and added spooky horror elements. The hint of eyes, the feel of being watched on the back of the neck, shadowy movements, everything dark. An occasional jump scare.
He was soon quite terrified.
This was only an instant of time. The crossbowman simply dropped to the deck unconscious in the real world.
She flitted to the other mirror shield and soon caught another looking, this time an archer picking out targets. Eyes met.
Boom, fucker.
Mazed. Slightly more resistant, but he failed and was drawn into her horror world. She more or less copy-pasted the same thing for speed.
The archer’s body on the pirate ship dropped forward hard, snapping his bow in the process.
She switched between both shields until she found another and then caught them — a warrior this time — and he… resisted with a firm will, shaking it off and stumbling to the side. The shaman barked a query about it and he responded about the mirror…
Sammy was not inclined to waste what chance she had left. She found another archer looking at the mirror literally as soon as it got mentioned.
That’s psychology for you.
A woman archer was fairly soundly Mazed and dropped — Sammy did something different for her prison. She made the Naugite wake up holding onto a scrap of wood in an ocean, as if her ship had been destroyed and she was stranded alone. She bought it hook, line, and sink-her.
As soon as Sammy was fishing for another target, Telekek raised her hand and called out a chant — a line of black beads snaked up to float in the air and then shattered into nothing.
Vaguely, she felt a spell erupting on the deck.
Shit.
____________________________________________________________
« Chapter 64 | Table of Contents | Chapter 66: ... Into the Mire »
____________________________________________________________
======================================================
======================================================
____________________________________________________________
Samantha, Virgin Goddess of Mirrors & Illusion
____________________________________________________________
Goddess Level 2; Minor Deity
Domains (2/3): Mirrors, Illusion
Faith Energy: 1090/2000
FE (Illusion): 3
Followers: 19 (Daily FE Gain: 25 [27])
Devout: 3
Priests: 3
Brute: 0
Rogue: 0
Wizard: 1 [8/20]
Bard: 0 [2/10]
MP: 22/25
Special Skills: First Aid, Tarot Reading, Priestly Ordination, Holy Relic Investiture, Read Runes, Spell Construction, Detect Magic
Special Traits: Token User, Immortal, Demiplane Domain, Conceptual Body, Fueled By Faith
Spells: Identify (5 MP), Icebolt (3 MP)
Powers: Faith Energy Utilization, Grant Prayer (Illusion), Mirror Sense, Mirror Communication, Create Illusion, Grant Invisibility, Dazzling Spectrum, False Auras, Mirroring Duplicates, Reflect Force, Mirror Maze
Status: Token User Promotional Bonus (7/30), New Deity Grace Period (7/7), Free Minor Divine Enchantment (Accessory; 1-use)
