Death from the Sea

“Damn ye for a bunch o’ landlubbers!” cried out the Captain. “Fill her up and fling her heavenward!”

The screaching man is Captain Nemon, a great leader in the Hespan Armada. His men are the many officers, lower sigals, pettymen, and grunts that are part and parcel of the navy. Their object of attention is the device with which they are slowly destroying the great Collinsport. From only a handful of Hespan ships there careened skyward fireballs of great size and brightness. They flew like shooting stars and, like their cousins the falling stars, they came down again with a great ferocity and even greater destruction. Within the port the ships of Allaria were devastated: burning, sinking hulks of useless cloth, rope and timber. Men were heard screaming and crying, few survivors could be seen floating upon the surface of the sea, most were either drowned, burned, or burned and drowned.

“Fire’s away!” yelled another of the sea captains. The ball of liquid fire flew as the seamen let loose the specialized catapult. The fire flew beyond the ship, up and over the stone breakers, and into the city itself, the impact causing it to explode, sending fragments of flame outward like the very tentacles of Death. The flames licked at everything they touched and the captain smiled as yet another wooden edifice began to burn, yet more Allarians began to run and die.

Duke Barnabas stood upon one of his balconies and his haggard face was blank. Beside him stood his majordomo Benjamin Stokes and Sir Peter Bradford, the captain of Barnabas’ Knights.

“M’Lord,” sighed the majordomo. “The others await us within, they seek your answer.”

Duke Barnabas still did not move nor make a sound. He stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on the carnage below, and yet with a stare so intense as if he were looking through the death and into something far deeper and deadlier.

“My Duke,” spoke Sir Peter. “If it is a sign of your son you await, I tell you we have not found him dead. Think not only of the one, but of the many. Your whole people need you, it has been too many days since the enemy has come and brought their black fire. Our initial defense has proved fruitless. You have now heard each report, you have listened to each recommendation, it is you who must make the next move.”

“Quentin is not dead,” said the Duke. “My son still lives, I would feel it otherwise. Let us go inside.”

The three turned from the flames of the battle below and towards the table where was seated the knighthood of Collins. At the back stood the Lady Josette and her daughter-in-law Daphne; they stood with the servants who bore trays of food and drink, sustenance necessary in this time of trial. Their eyes all looked at the Duke, they bore into him, their wet glare glistened with the hope that the Master of the land had an answer to the horrible situation: the attack from Hespan and the mysterious and infernal black fire.

What the Allarians did not know, what they so desperately needed to know, was the nature of the black fire. When the Armada was first sighted, the men of Collins took to sail and prepared to fight at sea. This was their way as it was that of the Hespan. But rather than a battle of ramming boats and flying arrows from the balconies of the ships, the air was quickly and surprisingly filled with the great balls of fire. There was no defense against them and soon the ships of Collins, what was left of them, retreated to the port. This only delayed the inevitable.

What the Hespan knew, and what they so cleverly kept to themselves was the nature of the black fire. Long ago the Hespan sailed all along the Continent’s eastern edge, unlike the other Men of Havnheim who came from the West after the destruction of the Great Empire, the Hespan are an older people, indigenous to the East. They traveled and mapped and grew, what they could take by offer, opportunity, or force they did. Close to the Bokh'ainer Archipelago in the southern Tarel Sea is the Nom Malbra. The King of Hespan claims the rich silver mines of that frontier jungle continent. It is not an easy land to keep for it is surrounded and infested with head hunters and cannibals, pirate lords, and wild amazons. The Bokh’ainer itself is a lawless string of islands controlled by blood thirsty bandits, corsairs and buccaneers, and they vie with the Hespan for the riches of the silver.

But though the silver is well known and hotly sought after, it is what a survey party of Cavalier and miners ran across not long ago that could well prove to be far more valuable. In those jungles of the far, far south they found something, small pools of shiny black mucous. On a humid spring morning, the Cavalier and the miners came back to their base city, and they arrived carrying buckets of the shiny stuff. They named it offal zermenia negra, but many who handle it simply call it the offal or the zerm or la negra. The Captains, the Signeuores, and the mages of the Nom Malbra experimented with it, played with it so to speak and they began to discover its most amazing qualities, especially when mixed with the right concentrations of other substances. They brought it back to the Hespan mainland and took it to their King. He immediately had his closest men of learning conduct further experiments. One of the results is the fuego liquido, the liquid fire. They decided to keep it a secret until the right moment presented itself. All were in agreement that a war with Allaria was just the right moment.

1. and so the Hespan sea battle continues...
2. we turn to the Hespan and other "independant" forces in the interior of the Continent...
3. what of the Gana-Gala War?

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