Wednesday, December 23
Crisis in Freeport: Part 11 – Felix’s
Felix’s resort was a large building that once offered excellent service, food, and accommodations. It was the perfect getaway for Freeoprt’e elite, serving all of the Captain’s Council, important merchants, and dignitaries from foreign lands.
The one-posh establishment had transformed into a disgusting charnel house, the playground for bloodthirsty pirates. By the time Sebastian and Beldin reached the resort, it appeared that the entire staff had been murdered, their corpses strewn about the beach.
A covered porch dominated the front of the resort. The supporting beams featured a number of hooks for holding nets, hats, baggage, and other items. The porch also held a few chairs and a couple of ceramic pots that served as spittoons. Boards covered the windows to protect them from flying debris. The door hung on a single hinge and swung in the gusts.
“They put up a fight,” said Beldin sadly.
Sebastian crossed his wrists in front of him and promptly disappeared. “Keep them busy,” came his voice from nowhere.
After drinking several potions that increased his strength and size, Beldin soldiered on. Inside, the dining hall was a large open room that had once been filled with tables, chairs, and maritime décor. No longer. The place was a shambles. The iron hoops that served as chandeliers were the only thing still intact, though the candles had burned down to the stubs and sputtered with each blast of wind through the door. Corpses littered the floor and stairs leading up to the second floor. The place stank of beer, blood, and smoke.
Elorii pirates, armed with crossbows, crouched on either side of the room. At the far side was Persius Sharpe, the elorii captain, holding a flintlock to Emric’s head. Mentire Aboir, a hunched gnome with a tattooed in the form of a skull, leaned on his staff next to him. Standing in Beldin’s path was none other than the elorii bounty hunter who had tried to kill them over a year ago in Freeport, Garadon.
“Amazing,” said Mentire said in disbelief. “We surely thought no one would come waltzing through the front door like that. And yet, here you are.” He wheezed a laugh. “Leave it to a dwarf!”
“Let the boy go,” said Beldin. Garadon pulsed with energy, larger and more menacing that he had been when Beldin last saw him.
“Let him go?” said the gnome. “Let him go? You’ve been keeping company with Martell for too long. We’re not going to let the boy go. We have orders to keep him here until Freeport picks a new successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”
Beldin took a step forward. Garadon crouched.
“There’s always the ghouls outside,” cackled Mentire. “Or Talathiel.” more
posted by Michael Tresca at 12:44 PM
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