The Witch Doctor- Spectral Conscription

The last time we saw our bearded adventurers they had just survived the loch and were cruising on an eerily still sea late at night. The Marksman, on watch reflecting on his past, noticed a pale blue light haunting the still waters. A ghostly vessel has boarded the Mystic Wave and a phantom pirate captain stands sword drawn over the defenseless Hero…

 

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The ghostly pirate captain grins insidiously, raising his saber to deal the fatal blow. The Hero winces as the spirit starts his downward swing, an icy chill running down the Hero’s back. 

 

*CLANG*

 

The Hero, realizing that he is still among the living, looks up to see the Marksman blocking the sword with his seax knife. The ghost captain looks blankly at the Marksman, then grimaces in rage drawing his sword back for another overhead stroke. 

 

The Marksman moves quickly, slashing with a throwing knife. The pirate captain dissolves into the wind as the rest of the spectral crew stand in shock. 

 

“Ah yes, the Order’s weapons were enchanted to allow them to engage any foe,” boasted the Scribe loudly to the other heroes, obviously trying to showcase his knowledge.

 

The interjection shook the ghouls from their stupor, as the ghastly crew screeches in anger.

 

“Good goin bookie,” retorts the Gunslinger.

 

The Marksman takes a defensive stance, then throws a knife through several apparitions. Being spirits, the knife continued until it buries itself in the ship’s railing, causing a distressed growl to escape Captain Crimson.

 

The Marksman moves like a controlled whirlwind, dashing between spirits swiping his blades through the air like a dancer. The air is filled with dispersing ghosts, but more and more spill over the edge of their spectral sloop onto the deck of the Wave.

 

The Marksman realizes the flow of ghouls will be more than he can handle but just then a stream of golden light vaporizes several of the ghosts. The Marksman turns to see the Wizard, blasting away with gold-hued magic. 

 

“Fight on, Marksman! I think I’ll can deal with these spirits but the spell takes a while to charge, we must hold them off till then,” says the Wizard. The Wizard then raises his staff above his head and begins to twirl it. The stone in the end glows gold, followed by the entire staff, and then a faint cloud of magic begins to form around the spinning staff.

 

The Marksman, with renewed hope, turns and begins slashing away, supported by sporadic blasts from the Wizard’s wand. The Marksman moves like a crazed animal, attacking spirit after spirit. Slash… block….spinning slash… perry...hack… stab… block….stab, stab… throw knife… block… slice, slice, slice. The Marksman continues this assault on the specters until only his seax knife and quillion dagger remain. The ghosts continue to spill onto the deck. 

 

The Marksman uses his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was growing weary and with no more throwing knives, he would soon be overrun. He looks back at the Wizard. The cloud illuminated the whole deck like it was the light of day. The cloud was now thick, spinning at incredible speed. The Wizard then drives the staff onto the deck and the cloud explodes, releasing an immense magic wind, like that of a hurricane. All the ghosts on deck are vaporized in the magic gust. A giant wave is formed from the magical burst, causing the phantom ship to capsize and vaporize into the air.

 

The Marksman sinks to his knees, exhausted. The Wizard leans onto his staff, his energy sapped from utilizing such a powerful spell.

 

“I think I know that ship,” mutters the Distiller aloud, “That looks like a raiding ship that went to raid the dwarven island when it was rumored the island was deserted. They were said to have made it right to the gate of the island before they were killed by a terrible monster. They’re probably haunting this region, preying upon seafaring souls as they did while they were living.”

 

“The gate of the island? That would be the third uprising,” says the Barkeep, “Which means…”

 

“That we’re close,” interjects the Inventor, “we’ll be upon the.”

 

“Get your rest men,” advises the Wizard. “This’ll not be our last test.”

 

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Later the next day….

 

The grizzly galleon, piloted silently by the Order assassin glides across the still waters. The waters are disturbed by the ship's oars crashing into its surface. The oars are manned by the unfortunate souls that crossed paths the Witch Doctor and his accomplices. The Witch Doctor shouts orders, lashing out with magic tendrils of fire that lick the backs of the tortured souls.The Witch Doctor leans against the mast as he sees a blue flash dart across the sea.

 

Soon the ghost ship comes into view, quickly overtaking the macabre vessel. The pirate captain steps onto the deck, looking around but seeing no one. Suddenly, a flaming green fireball flies by the ghost captain, eviscerating a ghostly crew member in a pillar of fire. Simultaneously, the assassin drops out of the rigging and slashes three more spectral crewmembers. The ghost crew moans angrily, preparing to charge but then they are frozen in place by an unseen force.

 

A chuckle emanates from behind the captain’s quarters door. The bone-adorned door opens and a devilishly attractive woman stalks out onto the deck. Magical purple sparks wriggle playfully through her long, slender fingers. Her golden blonde hair falls regally around her statuesque shoulders and collarbone. Her gaze is piercing, her full lips parted when at rest A tribal tattoo sits upon her right shoulder, the symbol of an eye sitting amongst the chaotic shapes that make upt the tattoo. Her body is wrapped in a purple dress that seems to constantly billow in the non-existent wind. The woman strolls over to the Witch Doctor, seductively letting her finger run across his shoulder and down his bare chest. She then turns her attention to the ghostly captain. She stands face-to-face with the specter and then laughs once more.

 

“The more the merrier,” quips the woman before moving her arms in a fluid motion, causing ribbons on purple magic to enveloping the ghost and the spectral ship, absorbing them into the Enchantress’ ghastly galleon. She cackles as she walks back across the deck into the captain’s quarters.

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