Gather ‘round once more, warm yourselves by the flickering flames, and immerse yourselves in the tale that unfolds before us. As we delve into the narrative of our valiant band of explorers, we witness their destinies entwined as tightly as the vines that clamber over the ruins of forgotten temples. Continuing the story of the Brazen Pegasus, which is the second and final part of its tale, we find our heroes forging their bravery and wit into legend. With the lively Port Nyanzaru closer than ever before, let us knit the threads of their perilous voyage over the unforgiving sea.
On our previous tale, we saw how Thalia’s ordeal amidst the churning waves stood as a stark testament to her unyielding spirit. Her grasp on reality was as fragile as her hold on the chest that threatened to escape her fingers. Yet, her resilience remained unshaken; she clutched the chest with a steadfast tenacity fueled by sheer willpower. Thalia’s battle against the ocean’s fury was not a solitary challenge; each member of their fellowship faced the salty water’s rage in their own distinctive manner.
Corema Sabugueiro, with her command over druidic magic, transformed into a Deep Rothé—a creature of formidable strength—to lend her newfound strength to pull and rescue her drowning companions from the clutches of the sea.
Thalia Nightshade clung to a precious chest, struggling to stay afloat in the churning sea. Mealltair, undeterred by the violent waves, fought tirelessly to rescue her. Aboard the ship, it was Zermus, not usually known for physical prowess, but who showed unyielding determination by firmly securing a lifeline that became their hope for survival. Meanwhile, Corema, in her formidable Rothé form, joined in the effort on deck, pulling at the rope with all her might alongside her companion to ensure Mealltair and Thalia’s safety.
With their collective efforts bearing fruit at long last, Corema and Zermos heaved upon the rope with all their might. Mealltair and Thalia were hauled aboard with such force that they collided with the ship’s hull—a painful reunion with the Brazen Pegasus that left bruises upon their flesh. Thalia’s injuries were nearly her undoing. Yet, again, they had survived and were once more reunited. The chest that had been their burden now lay open on the deck, its contents—a king’s ransom in coins and gems—spilled before them.
The crew moved to secure the treasure, but Corema, still in her beastly form, guarded it jealously by sitting upon it. The trio of mysterious Baldurans who had observed from above returned quietly to their quarters. Meanwhile, some among our heroes sought audience with Captain Ortimay Swift and Dark in frantic tones, warning of an unseen threat looming over them.
As if she could do anything…
The sea grew restless once more as a colossal shadow passed beneath them—a leviathan that dwarfed their ship. Captain Ortimay recognized it with a whisper: “Aremag? What is he doing here? We are still too far from Chult.” Fortune favored them still; the gargantuan creature merely glided by without incident.
Exhaling relief, Captain Ortimay revealed that Aremag demanded tribute in gold—a price for safe passage. Understanding dawned upon Corema; she relinquished her hoard with grace. Some crew members busied themselves with repairs as sails were mended and spirits slowly lifted.
As the sun reached its zenith once again, Corema was on the lookout for an opportunity to infiltrate the Baldurans’ private quarters. Her patience paid off when she observed one of them, called Barron, acting with a peculiar focus on deck.
Seizing this moment, Corema transformed into a spider, deftly climbing onto Barron’s shoulder and settling there as he went about his business. She remained still and unnoticed, waiting for her chance. That’s when she noticed he held an orb in his hands—a stunning sphere of glass with a nucleus of metal that branched out like veins towards the surface, yet remained encased within. The man seemed intent on keeping the orb aligned with the sunlight.
Then, as if fate itself were conspiring with her, another Balduran emerged onto the deck and approached Barron. “Barron, the Magus needs to talk to you; I can handle this,” he said. With that exchange—both verbal and physical, as he took the orb from Barron’s hands—Barron headed back to their room, unwittingly smuggling Corema inside.
Once in their quarters, Corema found herself amidst a treasure trove of navigational and scholarly endeavors. Maps and tools lay scattered among open tomes—a testament to their skills in cartography and calligraphy. As her time in arachnid form dwindled, she made a timely departure, managing to slip away and revert to her natural form right in front of the Brazen Pegasus’s “janitor,” who didn’t seem to mind the transformation. Curious about the unflustered custodian, Corema asked for his name, and he introduced himself as Barnacle. With this new acquaintance made, she headed back to the upper deck and shared what she learned with her companions.
Sharing her findings with her companions did little to alleviate the tension aboard; it only deepened as, on their fifth night aboard the Pegasus, darkness enveloped them and fire ants, more aggressive than they had ever been before, swarmed with a frightening intensity.
Strangely, their numbers seemed to multiply right in front of the door leading to the Captain’s Quarters. That night, Mealltair experienced what he initially couldn’t discern as a nightmare. It all seemed so real when Barnacle offered him a beer that, upon drinking, seemed to scorch him from within. As Mealltair’s gaze returned to Barnacle, he watched in horror as his face began melting away, revealing eyes that glinted with the unmistakable golden luster of untold riches. In that terrifying moment, the creature before him, now sporting razor-sharp teeth, lunged forward and bit Mealltair.
Come morning light, many aboard suffered illness; blurred vision and shivering bodies plagued both crew and passengers alike. Morale was low; Mealltair seemed most afflicted by this mysterious ailment. Captain Ortimay implored those still standing to aid in any way they could.
In hushed tones, some overheard Captain Ortimay confiding in Edelmere Carmelo about their prolonged voyage—something about a tenday journey that weighed heavily upon her mind.
And then there were the flying creatures high above—strange silhouettes against the sun’s glare. Assurances came from an unexpected source: the humanoid turtle, who dismissed fears of “Terror Folk,” instead invoking “Children of Ubtao” as beings not to be feared but admired.
Meanwhile, a few meters from there, another drama unfolded. Thalia confronted one of the Baldurians about an orb concealed within his vestments—a conversation rife with tension and discovery as she glimpsed a hidden crown pin tucked away. A confrontation seemed imminent until Thalia withdrew—for now.
On their sixth night at sea, Corema was visited by cryptic visions whispering of safe arrivals and innocent blood—a portentous dream featuring a creature with golden coin eyes attempting to bite her.
The following day, as they left the Asavir’s Channel and ventured into the open sea where no islands dotted the horizon anymore, brought sightings of a familiar vessel. The one that had attacked them a few days before was a few hundred meters ahead, heading in the same direction. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was a glimmer of hope. Mealltair, Zermos, and the majority of the crew were feeling better after the ailment that had befallen them the previous day.
In the midst of this uneasy atmosphere, Corema felt compelled to voice her fears to the Captain. She harbored a deep-seated belief that a curse hung over their vessel like a dark cloud. When she approached the Captain with her suspicions, she found her to be unexpectedly receptive. The Captain’s eyes betrayed a sense of recognition at Corema’s words; it was as though she had anticipated this very conversation. With a heavy heart, she confirmed Corema’s worst fears: the Pegasus was indeed under a malevolent enchantment.
The Captain shared with Corema an ominous rhyme that was haunting her fow quite a long time:
“Upon the Pegasus, harm dealt is harm felt; a tenday’s stay binds you to play. Cease the hurt, sail the sea; a year’s peace sets thee free.”
That’s when, somehow, Corema noticed that they were talking about different things. Nevertheless, the Captain Ortimay kept talking, as she was feeling reliefed for finally sharing this with someone new. She went on, talking about the time they sought the wisdom of Grandfather Zitembe, a figure renowned for his divination magic and insights. With his mystical prowess, he endeavored to unravel the mysteries that plagued the Pegasus. Although his efforts were met with uncertainty about their efficacy, Grandfather Zitembe imparted verses to Ortimay that hinted at both warning and guidance for those aboard the cursed ship. Something along the lines:
“Upon the Pegasus of Brazen hue, A hag’s ire, a curse ensues. Each wound inflicted, each hurt bestowed, Returns to thee, as karma owed.
Ten sunsets on the ship you see, You’re one of them, forever be.
A year of peace ‘neath sky and sea, One turn of Toril without decree, Breaks the curse, sets you free.”
As Corema grappled with the staggering revelations, it was clear that their fate was interwoven with enigmatic forces beyond their current grasp. The curse that bound them could only be lifted by braving not just the treacherous waters but also by unraveling the cryptic verses.
In the midst of this overwhelming tide of secrets, Ortimay sought to clarify her point through a vivid demonstration. With Corema’s assent, she pricked the tip of Corema’s finger with her dagger, causing a small bead of blood to emerge. To Corema’s bewilderment, an identical but ten times larger wound appeared on Ortimay’s own finger, mirroring the injury.
Corema’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of it all, her actions guided by fragments of visions from the night before. She began scattering her blood across the deck in a seemingly chaotic pattern. The crew exchanged puzzled glances, yet none dared intervene. Barnacle’s voice cut through the confusion with a grumble, “All I know is that I’m not the one who’s going to clean it up.”
Amidst this strange ritual, a subtle shift occurred among the crew. Spirits began to lift, and faces turned toward the horizon where, at long last, the rugged outline of Chult emerged. They were on the cusp of entering the bay of Chult, and hope flickered anew in their weary eyes.
The crew’s fleeting sigh of relief was abruptly cut short. From the crow’s nest came an urgent warning: two pirate ships were swiftly approaching, one from the east and another from the west, slicing through the waves with a threatening grace. Their main adversary, keenly aware of the new threat, maneuvered its massive hull to engage once more. As Corema’s blood stained the deck, and their destination beckoned on the horizon, the crew steeled themselves for what promised to be their most daunting confrontation yet.
The escalating tension was palpable as they prepared for battle against the pirates, now seemingly threefold more perilous than before. The ship rocked violently as aggressive waves battered its hull. But just when all seemed lost, an unexpected ally emerged from the depths. An island appeared to rise from the sea, splitting two of the pirate vessels asunder in a display of raw power, while the third, familiar and captained by the notorious Elok Jaharwo, hastily retreated. Elok’s face betrayed his terror at this unforeseen turn of events.
The ‘island’ was, in truth, no island at all but a gargantuan turtle that Ortimay had named Aremag. This magnificent leviathan radiated an aura of subdued power and communicated in the ancient language of Draconic, demanding tribute from those who dared traverse its waters. Only Zermos, among the crew, had the skill to unravel the creature’s archaic dialect. The crew of the Pegasus stood transfixed by the spectacle, their sense of wonder growing as they came to understand that the sea harbored mysteries far more profound than any pirate threat they had previously encountered.
In a flurry of motion, the crew hastily offered up the chest they had recovered, a prize Thalia had secured from the depths. Aremag plunged beneath the waves only to resurface moments later, the chest now agape in its massive jaws. The turtle’s demand for “More” resonated deeply, its voice causing sails to billow and those aboard the Pegasus to feel both the warmth of its breath and a scent redolent of the ocean’s bounty upon which it feasted.
Amidst this tense exchange, Thalia slipped away to the lower deck. Whether driven by genuine concern or seeking to provoke her newfound rival once more, her motives were as murky as the deep blue sea. Yet, in her brief sojourn below deck, Thalia’s eyes fell upon a trove of items: numerous books, tools for calligraphy and cartography, various herbs and ingredients likely intended for spellcrafting, and an assortment of peculiar objects including crystals and a curious piece of paraphernalia whose purpose eluded her.
After some persuasion from Thalia, they retrieved an intricate object resembling a wasp, crafted from metal and adorned with small gemstones for eyes—a piece that seemed of considerable value. Thalia, now on board, quickly tossed the tiny metallic insect towards Aremag, followed by the Baldurian man. His face etched with fear.
As this was happening, Mealltair and Zermos were engaged in a precarious attempt to negotiate with the creature. They resorted to a dangerous spell, weaving magic that momentarily softened Aremag’s temperament. The creature became unexpectedly cooperative, even propelling their boat from below with a newfound benevolence that aided their speed. But the ruse was short-lived. As the spell’s influence waned, Aremag realized the deceit. The once placid giant of the deep turned wrathful, confronting them with a fury that was as intense as the ocean’s depths.
Tension was escalating aboard the Pegasus. The crew had momentarily thought they’d found a way to appease Aremag’s demands through magical manipulation. Yet now, they faced the creature’s ire anew. It was a narrative tapestry woven with threads of adventure and intrigue on the high seas—one that now demanded they scramble to offer more than just an ornate trinket. Aremag’s hunger for tribute had not been sated; it demanded more gold, and it demanded it with an urgency that sent waves of panic across the deck.
In the face of such peril, and with their coffers still flush with gold, the adventurers were faced with a dire choice. The beast’s insatiable greed threatened to be their undoing. But then, in a remarkable display of cunning and audacity, they hatched a daring plan. Against all odds, they wove a convincing tale of empty vaults and exhausted treasures. With hearts pounding and breaths held, they watched as Aremag, the formidable sea monster who had been the bane of mariners across the realms, paused, its vast intelligence grappling with their deceit.
In that moment of suspense, where the thin line between triumph and doom was drawn by their own wits, something extraordinary happened. The creature, convinced by their bold ruse that no more gold was forthcoming, relinquished its siege. With a roar that echoed the depths of the oceans and a final disdainful glance, Aremag disappeared beneath the waves, granting them safe passage to the Port.
This was no mere stroke of luck; it was a saga of bravery and brilliance that would be etched into the annals of seafaring legends. The companions, alongside the crew of the Brazen Pegasus, had faced down an ancient terror and now, free from Aremag’s clutches in the Bay of Chult, they were greeted by the sight of Port Nyanzaru’s entrance.
They passed a lighthouse perched atop massive walls built on cliff rocks, a fort to their right, and a submerged metal chain, with each link almost as large as their vessel, stretching from one wall near the lighthouse to the fort. This chain had a mechanism that allowed it to be contracted from both sides.
As they entered the port, they were struck by the sight of a giant statue roughly 7 meters tall and notably newer than any monuments they had seen in Baldur’s Gate. Captain Ortimay of the Brazen Pegasus explained that it depicted Na N’buso, the Great King. Erected just five years prior, this statue symbolized Chult’s independence and illustrious past, impressing upon foreigners the land’s proud heritage.
Upon reaching the dry docks under the blazing sun, an array of sensory experiences enveloped them. The harbor’s familiar sounds blended with the musical clicks and singsong words of an unfamiliar language. The air was rich with the scents of exotic spices and tropical fruits, mingling with the maritime aromas of fish, tar, and canvas. Port Nyanzaru was a kaleidoscope of color; its buildings painted in vibrant hues or adorned with murals featuring giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Amidst this bustling cityscape, medium and large dinosaurs served as beasts of burden. The profusion of flowers, green plants, and vines required constant care to protect the buildings and roofs from their encroaching growth.
The city’s defensive structures were topped with colorful awnings to shelter guards from sun and rain. Cobblestone streets with deep gutters carried away even the heaviest rainfall as residents went about their business unfazed by all but the most torrential downpours. Tabaxi minstrels roamed these streets, entertaining passersby for coins. Walls sectioned off districts within Port Nyanzaru, each archway overhead painted with murals depicting dinosaurs and heroes.
Amidst the crumbling ancient buildings covered in vines and lichens, they noticed their vessel being towed by a giant lizard—a T-Rex referred to by some as one of Ubtao’s Children or simply as a dinosaur. As they disembarked, all except three guests below deck left the ship. The companions then observed the Tortle, who traveled with them, engaging in conversation with a regal golden-scaled creature that bore draconic features—a being more dragon than human—speaking in the local tongue while casting glances at them.
In the midst of the bustling city, a moment of crisis unfurled as a small, bunny-like and furry creature known as an Almiraj, with a single horn in its forehead, inadvertently caught the attention of a T-Rex. The colossal predator, upon spotting the Almiraj, became aggressive and broke free from its saddle and ropes, intent on making the tiny being its next meal.
Corema and Thalia, witnessing the plight of the Almiraj, sprang into action with a sense of urgency that matched the pulse of the city’s own heartbeat. Thalia, with swift precision, swept up the creature in her arms and bolted through the crowd, her instincts as sharp as the wind. Meanwhile, Corema summoned the forces of nature itself; her spells caused roots and leaves to grow from between the cobblestones, ensnaring and immobilizing the T-Rex just enough to halt its predatory charge.
Then, with a touch as light as a breeze and a voice that carried the tranquility of a forest’s whisper, Corema soothed the once aggressive T-Rex. Her deep connection to the untamed heartbeats of nature was evident in her every move. The majestic creature, its fury now quelled, became docile under her calming influence.
The dock workers, who had been watching anxiously from a safe distance, breathed collective sighs of relief and gratitude for Corema’s intervention. With renewed vigor, they approached the tranquilized titan, now easy to manage thanks to her efforts. With skillful coordination, they secured the gentle giant, ensuring its safety and that of those around.
Thalia’s protective embrace enfolded the delicate horned creature, a silent testament to the harmony that can exist between humankind and the most formidable of nature’s creations.
As the Almiraj’s quivers fell silent, the crowd parted to give way to a commanding figure. His presence was undeniable, his eyes a golden hue that mirrored his majestic air. The scales on his arms shimmered, hinting at his dragon heritage. With a confident smile, he introduced himself, “I am Zindar,” his voice resonant with draconic undertones, “the Harbormaster.”
“I’ve heard of your bravery against the pirates,” Zindar said, locking eyes with an intensity that revealed his depth. The crowd stilled as he offered, “A bounty is available for those interested. Capture pirate vessels and earn 2000 gold pieces per ship.” The promise of reward hung in the air, underscored by the gravitas of his lineage.
With a grand gesture that seemed to draw in the vast expanse before them, Zindar extended his arm towards the north, his finger directing their gaze not towards the lighthouse that stood sentinel over the harbor, but rather towards the imposing city walls that rose majestically to the east of the maritime beacon. “Those with the courage to seek fortune and perhaps even fame,” he proclaimed with a voice that resonated with promise, “should seek me in my office.” His invitation wove through the air like a siren’s call, beckoning them toward the heart of the teeming metropolis where untold adventures were ripe for the taking.
Now they stood at a crossroads where destiny and choice intertwined like threads in a sailor’s knot. Should they pursue the glinting allure of gold? Heed the siren song of adventure? Or forge ahead on the mission that had summoned them from the distant shores of Baldur’s Gate? The future lay before them, an enigmatic chart riddled with promise and peril. With hearts pounding like drumbeats against the tide, they knew one thing for certain—their saga was just beginning, and it was theirs to pen.