'Who's steering?'

Somewhere in the back of Iphicles’ head, Than is reaching for his sword, muttering “oh blast the bast…"

Iphicles is made of different stuff, however.

Raising his gauntletted right hand and zeroing in with the helm of aiming, he sends forth a firebolt straight at the communication orb causing H’kar to drop it, a look of surprise and then anger filling his fat face.

“Look, you demonic cretin,” bellows Iphicles before H’kar can speak, “do you think G’orgul would have sent us all the way here if he could have told you? Why do you think the white witch hasn’t come? Huh?? The Tormentriarch have used their chicanery to tap into your crystals, that’s how. They are working with her to destroy our master!"

"Everything he says, everything you say, it all gets recorded in that tower in Caradeth. So what do you think our master is going to do? Announce to the world that he was sending a secret assassin squad to the mortal realm to hunt her down? No, he plays it clever. Over the crystal, he says the usual sort of things, and winds them up. And he’s going to be really pissed if you blow the gaffe. On the quiet he sends us. Even then, we got attacked by the Tormentriarch. I myself killed their leader.”

Before H’kar can question what Iphicles has told him, Kyrin side steps beneath H’kar and brings the trident up under his chin.

“Can I relieve this fool of command!?” she asks, her eyes not leaving his.

“Please say yes. It has been too long that I have seen eyes burst in appreciation of my power!”

“No,” says Iphicles with authority, “But time is of the essence…”

H’kar mutters something to himself about nobody telling him anything before he then says, “Go ring for the vessel then!”

Iron Mask leads the parties up onto the docks, watched with interest by the gathered demonic hordes. Indicating for Broadfoot to give him a hand, the two of them start pushing the great bell which starts to toll. The sound goes drifting off across the water.

 

Xav’ shifts uncomfortably on his feet, rubbing his hands together from the chill of standing around on the cold dock. Saffy is stroking her demonic hound and Jud’ is chatting with Fern. Iphicles meanwhile has been given the cold shoulder by H’kar who seems most disgruntled at things going on without his knowledge.

“There,” says Kyrin excitedly, pointing out across the black water.

Much squinting from the other party members sees them also spot the form of the black longboat moving sailessly and oarlessly through the water.

 

“I do so hate having to venture onto the mortal realm,” comments Iron Mask as he takes his seat aboard the longboat.

“I have some Gringor Root if anyone suffers from daylight sickness,” he offers, finding his opened pouch declined by the members of the parties.

Saffy is just helping her black wolf aboard when Modi comments, “I don’t like the look of that.”

Xav’ and Iphicles can see what he means. A hunched figure in long black robes is speaking with H’kar who is looking in the direction of the boat, a twitch to the side of his face visible at even this distance.

Sir Gorath is the last to board and everyone is looking anxiously back to where H’kar is giving orders to his troops.

“When and how does this thing move,” hisses Dorian.

An expletive issues from Jud’s lips as demons starts to charge towards the jetty and suddenly all hell breaks loose in a burst of impressive pyrotechnics caused by the ‘stored’ Hellfires.

The ship lurches into movement and starts to pull away from the flaming, smoking jetty, burning demons falling out of the conflagration and into the water. Iphicles is ready with the Horn of Wind, expecting the flying creatures to take to the air and attack but they do not seem to have been sent forth.

“I can’t believe we’ve made it,” says Geruath from where he is sat next to a worried eyed Iron Mask. “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” says Magni, suspicious of the lack of pursuit.

“They won’t get far,” spits the fat, floating demon, “call up that little surprise we had prepared for the bitch of light.”

“Blow, blow with all your might!”

Several party members breath sighs of relief as the glowing jetty gets smaller behind them but from that area drifts the sound of a strange horn being blown.

“I don’t think they’re bidding us farewell,” mutters Saffy.

The hairs on the back of Iphicles neck raise and his demon-tainted night vision allows him to see that some distance off to the right of the vessel a large wake has appeared.

The wake indicates something very large under the water, something very large that is moving at quite a considerable pace towards the ship. Iphicles estimates contact in less than two or three minutes.