The Captain had decided to heed my concerns and not resort to business deals with slavers. Instead, we would devise a plan to apprehend the scoundrels in the act, capture them and deliver them to the authorities in hopes of a reward. If all went well, we could recover the payment they had us expect for our "passengers". Not the most truthful thing to do, perhaps, but certainly preferable to completing the deal.
In the meantime, a group of persons from town had approached our ship and crossed the gangplank, comprising a woman who was their leader, a scurillian and four guards. They demanded to see the Captain, in order to finalise some business they had allegedly agreed on. The Captain, however, stated that no deal had been sealed previously, due to the other party's unwillingness to commit without seeing our ship's documentation, and he had all rights to outright cancel negotiations at this point. The woman was enraged by this turn of events and threatened that she would use her considerable influence to impair our success both in Jomba Town and abroad. Whether these were hollow threads, I could not ascertain, but it seemed prudent to be watchful regardless.
With that settled, we decided to cast off immediately. This prevented us to conduct further trade with town, and we would have to sell our commodities elsewhere. Not staying longer was probably the safer course of action, all things considered.
After leaving port, I was given the honour of informing our passengers of our decision. I told them, as agreed with the Captain, that we would attempt to subdue their would-be purchasers, and if successful, they would be set free immediately and given the choice of whether to sail with us as regularly paid crewmembers, or be dropped off in a nearby friendly port. We found that their spirits had been broken by their previous ordeal, and they did not rejoice, or otherwise react much, but rather stare at us incredulously, or avert their eyes in deference. The Captain emphasised that to ensure their freedom, they were to do nothing that would alert the slavers of our intention.
That said and done, we still had to devise a plan. We expected to meet the slavers in a shallow cove, and to prevent their retreat, it was planned that a small group of specialists be set ashore in a suitable distance, and approach the cove on foot through the inland jungle. This task fell to Carlton, Master Krastus, myself, and our kehana-doreen duo.
Meanwhile, the Captain himself would go ashore in a dinghy, accompanied by crewman Potter, set up the deal, and then send Potter back to the ship to fetch the merchandise. On the frigate, Serene would take interim command, the slaves were to display themselves prominently on deck, Sira would keep the cannons ready to strafe the beach, and Equias would be showing herself as well, lest the slavers be alarmed by the lack of scurillian aboard.
It was agreed that as soon as the Captain removed his hat, this would serve a signal to set the plan in motion. Our ship would hoist the monkey flag, and we would then hurry to intervene and encircle the slavers on the beach.
With this plan established in theory, we set out to execute it. Indeed, we found a suitable spot to go ashore, and snuck ahead, through the jungle. Just as we arrived in the vicinity of the cove, however, we found that the slavers themselves had a similar idea. Carlton was alarmed by the sounds of others moving through the undergrowth, and without further ado, our small band got assaulted by half a dozen slavers.
In addition, there was a kraken with them, a wind mage obviously, who had approached us invisibly and appeared right next to me with little warning, attacking our band from a vantage point with the same spells of blasting gale that Master Krastus was so fond of conjuring up. Both Mongrel and I, walking furthest in the back, got pelted by a mixture of wind, branches, rocks and other debris, and while I could barely stand upright under the assault, my kehana friend got thrown to the ground, lying motionless.
For a moment, in the ensuing silence, I heard yelling and gunshots from the beach, then the focused gale rose again, and I found myself surrounded my no less than three of the slavers. I tried to retaliate with my own, far less spectacular magic, buying myself precious moments, but time as a whole was not with me, for when the storm assaulted me a third time, I lost my footing and slipped to the ground, bruised and battered, while the slavers lifted their cutlasses to strike me.
Fortunately Master Krastus had remained rather unchecked by the assailants and had positioned himself to unleash a storm of his own. With surgical precision, two of the slavers were lifted off their feet by the onslaught and disappeared, limply hurling, into the nearby foliage. This drew the kraken's attention towards him, and they locked eyes, preparing for a lethal duel of Mages that was cut short when an aimed shot of Carlton's whizzed by, missing me by mere inches, and struck the kraken into its tentacled visage, squarely and terminally.
The remaining slaver was dumbstruck with horror, but Master Krastus, unprepared to be denied his victory, galloped at him and with a single terrible blow from his hammer, sent him lifeless to the ground. The jungle fell silent once more, and coming to my senses, I looked around to see both Mongrel and the doreen lying about, gravely injured but alive. My other comrades were still ready for battle, and stepped out of the jungle, surveying the beach.
There, a more lopsided battle had occurred. The slaver leader and four of his companions had prepared to meet with the Captain's party, but upon hearing the sounds of combat from inland, they had decided to shoot first. Crewman Potter was killed instantly, and the Captain gravely wounded by their initial musket volley, but on the frigate, Sira and the others retaliated in kind. Before the slavers could disperse, fragments of cannon shot pelted them, and as they ran to cover, they were picked off, one by one, by cannon and musket fire. Their leader attempted to flee, but the Captain defiantly chased after him, dragging him to the ground and overpowering him.
In the end, only one slaver from the beach group had escaped unscathed, the rest were all dead but the leader, who we captured. In a way, our plan had failed; We had been detected much too early, and we paid dearly for it. With crewman Potter, we lost one good life in the fight as a consequence. Still, we could obtain most of the promised payment from the captured slaver, and we had a live prisoner and the bodies of his accomplices to serve as proof of our endeavour. The prisoner himself, once informed he could anticipate delivery to New Madrid, suggested that we hand him over directly to the Jomban authorities. The Captain, certain that these slavers had lots of strings to pull in that town, refused emphatically, and the crew, who had assembled back on the frigate, awaited his decision where to head next.
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