Hunt for the Palantíri RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Captain, look!" Galhardir pointed grimly towards the Corsair ship as the pirates began to reel in their line and haul the smaller of the Stones onto the deck. For an instant Marreth's ship halted as if its captain was uncertain whether to take his prize back to shore or continue on and try to seize the other Stone. Then, abruptly, the vessel turned and begin to bear down on them. Its path would bring it alongside the Spirit in a matter of only a few minutes.

Glancing anxiously towards the mast, Luindal signalled to the men who were working on the rigging. "We've got to get out of here and fast. Is the sail up and secure?"

Elwên's voice came back, "She's up, sir. The rigging has been repaired the best we could. But whether the lines are strong enough to hold, we can't know for sure."

"We've no choice," countered Luindal. "Go ahead and unfurl her." Then he shouted to the helmsman. "Get us out of here."

The Elves pulled at the lines trying to coax the sail to unfurl on the central mast. The storm had passed and the sea was once again silent. For a moment, the canvas lay limp and unmoving, waiting for a fresh breeze to come. The Corsair vessel continued to hold course as the distance between the two ships shrank. Then the wind picked up. There was a creak and a groan as the rigging pulled taut and the sail billowed to its fullest. Slowly, the great ship began to move.

Luindal glanced nervously at the groaning lines but the sail continued to hold true. "I've got her, Captain," the Elf at the helm cried out and the Spirit skimmed along the top of the waves, as if Ulmo's unseen hand pushed her gently from behind. Within a few moments, the ship had maneuvered out of the way of the Corsairs and had swung around to the west, positioning itself further from the sandbar.

Luindal's first thought was to make it into port and permanently repair the damaged mast. As much as he would have liked to confront Marreth and seize the other Stone, he was unlikely to have success in the shape they were in now. But just as Luindal was about to turn his ship about and race to the shore, Annû's voice rang out, laced with suspicion, "Sir, look again. The Corsairs have stopped dead in the water and they're signalling to us...." Annû grimaced and placed his palm about the hilt of his sword.

[Arry]

His hand went to the hilt of the sword hung from his hip. It was Carrandû’s blade; Annû wore it more for the comfort of having his brother with him still in some small manner, rather than for his ability to use it well. At his back was hung his bow, and now his hand went up to it, bringing into place in his right grip; his left hand hastening back for an arrow. He nocked one, loosely, keeping his eyes on the Corsair ship as he walked to the ships railing and leaned against it. They were still too far away, even for the strength of his bow. Three more ship lengths, he thought, and I can begin to pick them off.

His eye was caught by a struggle on the southron ship at the entrance to the below-deck passageway. A crewman had come up to the deck and was now pulling on something still in the passageway. A slender figure was pulled onto the deck with another crewmember shoving roughly from behind. A woman – her hands tied behind her struggle to free herself from the grip of the two Corsairs. Elwë had come up along side Annû; his attention focused on the events taking place across the water. ‘Andtuariel!’ he gasped out in strangled voice.

Annû clasped his fellow Elf on the shoulder. ‘Your crossbow, Elwë. Fetch it quickly. You will need it if we are to rescue her.’

[Lalwendë]

To Tarn had fallen the part of calling the seals and getting them to find this mysterious stone. He had seen the nets of the Elves drawing up the larger stone, and he gazed in wonder as he realised what the whole venture had been about. He had at first wondered what value there could be in some old stones, and it had crossed his mind to question why they should be fighting to gain possession of them. But as he saw the stone being winched in by the Elves, he remembered one of his Grandfather’s old tales of a great disaster involving kings and precious ‘seeing stones’. He had always enjoyed the tale, more for the thrilling and terrifying disaster than the mysterious stones, but the memory of it was there in the back of his mind.

Tarn did not have long to spend in wonder as soon Marreth ordered the trained seals to be called, to help the Corsairs locate the remaining stone. After a long, high whistle, Tarn’s group of seals appeared, eager to do his bidding, and leaning over the rail of the ship, he welcomed them, as was his habit. Issuing a series of complicated whistles, the creatures went off to a spot slightly away from the Corsair ship and disappeared beneath the icy waves silently. Tarn could do no more now than watch and wait. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen Marreth pacing the deck with a tense look upon his face. Tarn knew not to address him, as he could see that impatience was brewing in the Captain; but he looked troubled by something else, something which Tarn could not read.

***

When the black stone was winched in, Tarn’s eyes opened wide with amazement. It was just as his grandfather had said. He longed to touch it, and edged closer to Marreth, but the Captain held it firmly and jealously turned away from him, a glint in his dark eyes. Tarn cursed himself that he had not gone looking for these stones on his own; their worth was more than ten times everything else he had ever salvaged from this ocean. They could buy untold weaponry, they could buy the support of a great many men, they could have given him the power he craved.

He tried to get a closer look but the Captain finally walked away from him, barking out orders to sail for the Elven ship. Tarn, disappointed, went back to the rail and put his head on his arms. A surge of pain welled up behind his broken ribs and he sighed. He was not sure he was so keen for another battle at that moment though he knew he was fit for it. Gazing at the waves sadly, a sense of disappointment grew within him, and he longed to get hold of that stone.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Holding the Palantir gingerly in his arms, Marreth watched eagerly as his ship got closer and closer to the wounded Elven vessel. Soon the other Stone would be his and the Elves would be dead. Even Lord Castamir could no longer stand against him.

But when he was no more than a stone’s throw from the ship, he saw with dismay that the Elves had finished restringing the sails on the half shattered mast. Now their ship was escaping and sailing slowly toward the shore. Although their sail worked, it did not provide full maneuverability and it was unstable enough to be knocked down by a strong gust of wind. Perhaps, they aimed to continue the fight on land, where both parties stood on equal footing.

“Not again!” yelled Marreth livid from frustration. He would not let the Elves slip away again and thwart his plans. His determination and passion flared higher than ever as he racked his mind for a course of action. The Corsair ship might not be able to catch the Spirit before it reached land and Marreth did not want to pursue them on dry ground if he could finish them off at sea.

Then Marreth stumbled on an idea that he had used once before to gain the upper hand on the Elves. “Bring the hostage to me,” he roared. Two of his crew brought the Elf woman to Marreth. She had been captured during the foray to free Hilde from her incarceration. The blue robe the woman wore was battered, covered with dust, and slightly ripped in places but the Elf herself was relatively healthy, especially considering the abysmal conditions of the ship’s prison. “How are you doing, little lady,” Marreth quipped with a grin. She made no effort to answer and kept her head down and eyes closed.

Marreth brought his ship to a halt and bellowed out a challenge, “Luindal, you sea dog, I have something that might be of interest to you. You best stop and hand over that large Palantir. I already hold one of them in my hand and I enjoy starting new collections. What do you say? Otherwise, this little lady could get very damp.”

With that, Marreth grabbed Andtuariel by the shoulder and shoved her out to the very end of the plank.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The two ships stood unmoving in the water, each in close proximity to the other. After hearing the proposal that had been made, Luindal responded calmly to Marreth, "We wish to see the Elf safe, but will need a moment to consider what you are asking us to do and how we are to move this massive Stone. It won't be easy getting the thing from one ship to the other." He pointed towards the massive globe that had been set down in the stern of the vessel.

Marreth responded with a grin on his face, "A moment? A moment is fine but make sure you take no longer than that."

Quickly, Luindal beckoned the crew, both Elves and Lossoth, over to a spot where they would not be seen or heard by the Corsairs. Annû was the first to speak, "Surely you do not believe him?"

"No more than you do. But we can play for time, enough time to prepare a little surprise of our own." Luindal snapped out his instructions. "Tarn, Nilak and the other Lossoth....you are to move the Stone into the net and act as if you are cranking up the winch to swing the package over to the Corsair ship. Keep a firm grip on Stone and net, but make sure you have trouble with your task. If a head or two should roll by being knocked by a swinging net and Stone, so be it."

"I will take the helm and sail straight in, positioning our ship beside theirs."

"That's all?" Annû queried.

"No, I need volunteers, preferably Elves who don't mind cold water. As we approach the ship, slip into the sea and make your way over to the far side of the Corsair vessel. You won't have to swim far. One of you take this rope, throw it up and have it latch onto something solid to give yourself a ladder to shimmy up. Once you're on board, stir up some havoc and try to get Andtuariel out of the way. We'll attack from the front once we see you're safely on the ship." The companions nodded and each headed off to a task.

Luindal was not sure about Andtuariel's safety. Once Mareth knew they planned to attack, she would be the first to go. Yet he had no idea what else to do.

Luindal turned back to Marreth since the Corsair had again begun to call impatiently from the other ship, "We will give you the Stone," Luiindal hastily assured him. "I do not want to see another crew member die, especially a woman. Only this Palantir is massive, and it may take us a while to get it loaded in the net. If it's alright with you, I'll sail over towards your ship where we can do the transfer."

"By all means, come visiting. But remember that we will all have our weapons trained on the Spirit and, if there is anything suspicious, the pretty dainty goes first." Marreth grinned again and gestured towards Andtuariel who was perched on the end of the plank, shivering and looking thoroughly miserable.

[piosenniel]

Rôg’s hands were gripped firmly on the rail. The waters of the bay were choppy, making him feel as if he did not hold on tightly he would be washed overboard. He stumbled a little as the deck lurched, and felt the strong grip of someone’s hands on the back of his arm, steadying him. ‘Careful, Rôg, we would not want to lose you when you are so close to going home.’ It was little Rodhal, a concerned look on his face. Rôg smiled at the boy, stepping away from the rail with him to the passageway below deck.

He had stepped just down to the second step when the ship lurched again. He was thrown against the side of the passageway, staggering to get himself up as well as Rodhal, when a number of Elves came running up the stairs, weapons in hand. ‘What’s happening?’ the boy cried out, shrinking against the wall of the passage. Rôg put his hand out, stopping one of the Elves. Before he could ask his question, the Elf was already starting past him. ‘The Captain has called us on board. The Corsairs are making an attempt to get the palantir from us.’ Rôg took Rodhal down to his cabin and bade him stay there – safe from the happenings above. ‘I’ll send your Uncle down to you if I see him above.’

Rôg ran quickly back to the deck. The Corsair ship had approached near the Elven ship. Luindal had turned the Sea Spirit about and was now parallel with the other. Rôg turned his head up toward the quarterdeck; he could see Elwë and Annû, their faces grim, intent upon the Corsair ship. Others of the Elves had taken positions along the deck, many of them with bows in hand, arrows already nocked. He let his eyes track to the ship opposite them and to the ragged figure that stood wavering on the plank that protruded from it. It was Andtuariel!

‘You should go below,’ one of the crew members said to him. ‘You are not armed. And soon, I think, there will be fighting.’ He pushed the Skinchanger gently but firmly back toward the passageway, then turned away to take up his position. Rôg stood for a few moments in the shadow of the passage, waiting for the Elf’s attention to be turned away from him fully.

‘I don’t have any weapons,’ he murmured to himself as he crept to the opposite side of the ship from where all were focused on the Corsairs. ‘But I can do something to help.’ With those words, he slipped over the side of the ship, dropping toward the waves below. He dove deep beneath the surface, his strong flippers and tail moving him quickly through the water. Soon he was positioned near the Corsair ship, just below the plank. He could see the Elf’s blue cloak fluttering in the breeze above.

‘Andtuariel,’ he barked up to her, trying to catch her attention. ‘Just jump . . .’

[Arry]

The salt water stung his wound intensely. Annû sucked in his breath and eased himself away from the Spirit, swimming with strong strokes toward the Corsair vessel. Elwë followed close behind him. Both of them had stripped down to their breeches and carried a knife and clubs as weapons. A dozen other of the crew had also slipped over the side at Luindal’s request, their own knives, clubs, and swords well secured against the heaving of the waves.

Elwë was the one who had taken the rope the Captain had offered. When all had gathered at the far side of the Corsair ship, Elwë threw the rope with its small grappling hook up toward the long boat that hung from the davit. The curved prongs caught on the rim of the boat, and Elwë climbed up quickly, hand over hand. the others followed suit, clambering into the boat as quietly as they could. Annû was the last one up. He pulled the rope up after him, stowing it in the bottom of the boat.

It was only a short distance from where the boat was suspended to the deck of the ship. With a great yell, the Elves sprang from the cover of the boat, leapt over the ship’s railing, and poured onto the deck, their weapons slashing and bashing with great effect. In the midst of the sudden confusion, Elwë, Annû, and one other Elf made their way toward the plank where Andtuariel was perched . . .