When most people think of the Nelanther Isles they think of pirates. Just about all of the islands in the region have a pirate presence...except the few uninhabitable ones. Or at least that's what people say. In actual fact the seemingly uninhabitable isles also have pirate holdings. This is one of them.

What seems like a small rock, barely large enough for a few people to stand on is actually much larger as soon as you pass the illusuory barrier on the north side of the isle. Inside is a much larger cave complex, perfect for a pirate base.

And that is exactly what it is.

Situated approximately 360 miles due west of the town of Imnescar in Amn you would be hard pressed to find a more perfect place to launch raids against the Sword Coast's shipping.

Noone knows who or what made the illusuory barrier and other than that the isles only other defenses are the pirates who live inside it (and whatever they can come up with.)
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:55, Thu 12 Apr 2007.

Hoat smiles with yellow teeth through thick black braids as he steps through the illusion.  The place is right where that miserable thief said it would be, and all it took was a little 'convincing' to get the information out. As he strides further into the complex, Hoat absently picks at the scab on his forearm caused by the exposed jagged edge of the little man's broken shin bone.

Now the first step of Hoat's master plan is complete, finding the secret caves.  Step two shouldn't be that hard, signing on to a crew.  Steps three and four might take a more little work...

'Well, well, well.  Not exactly what I thought, but it'll do.'  Azzedar almost smiles as he finally reaches the small island to actually discover it an illusion for a much bigger island, almost a lair.

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least.  The treck from Rasheman to Amn in the matter of only two tendays was stressing enough, but that man asking for money, that was priceless.  A bit of blood cheered the theif up admirably.  But still, Amn had enough of its own thieves; no need for Azzedar to be in such a competitive area.

So off to Calimshan he would go.  Passage on a ship was no problem, but then they had to be stupid enough to get attacked by pirates, the stupid sailors.  Azzedar sneaked off in the midst of the fighting to a small life boat and sailed off.  But there were even some stowaways hidden in the lifeboats.  They were simple enough to rid the world of.

Now, after days of riding, his clothes are little better than rags and his devil heritage was easy to see, even from a distance.  He walked on the island, prepared for anything, and all he saw was a single man.  Huge, but there was that saying that the bigger they are, the harder they fall.  Still, it might be better to handle this with a bit of diplomacy.  He might have friends hidden in the shadows.

"Someone alive at last.  A pleasure, for you, I'm sure."  The cold detached voice is low, almost to the point of being unable to be heard, but the man picks up every word nonetheless.

Immersed in his dreams of grandeur, Hoat did not see the approach of the new arrival.  As a result he is quite suprised to hear a voice come seemingly out of the blue.  Hoat spins around quickly to see the bedraggled-looking tiefling.  The Illuskan's blood-shot eyes squint in appraisal before returning the greeting.

"Sneak up on me like that again little devil-man, an' I'll bend yer limbs into a monkey's-fist.  Now we got that unner-stood, my name is Hoat Hundemar, and I come here lookin' fer a ship, any ship.  You know where I c'n fin' one?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Sun 16 Oct 2005.

"As long as we're starting out a conversation with threats, you could at least watch who you threaten.  I am sure your heart would taste bitter, but a bit of salt would fiix that up."  The tiefling's voice sounds almost bored.  As if this were something normal, standing at the entrance to a pirate's lairwith a huge man with a halbard.  "If you want a ship, and fast, I suggest you go behind me, there's a ship back there.  If you'd rather wait, go ahead."  As Hoat looks behind to see what ship he might have possibly missed, he sees a small four man lifeboat.  Azzedar is slowly walking ahead to explore the caves by the time Hoat turns back around.

The anger rises from Hoat's gut, but he tries to stay in control,

"Ho there! No one turns their back on Hoat Hundemar!"

The big man rushes forward with suprising speed to grab the teifling by the right arm.


20:03, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Melee touch attack to start a grapple.
20:00, Today: Hoat Hundemar rolled 25 using 1d20+14. Grapple check.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Sun 23 Oct 2005.

Azzedar turns at the sound of the larger man screaming, and meets his grap with open, but not gaping, eyes.  He doesn't attempt to resist, but his eyes grow redder with anger.

"I suggest you let go.  Before I do something you would really regret."  Somehow, whether it is his cold detached voice or his glowing eyes, Hoat can see he is not kidding, and has a faint idea that the tiefling can actually back up his threat.

A voice filled with anger cuts through the rum induced fog that clouds his mind. Sitting up from where he had passed out the night before, Hogar peers around at what has disturbed the best drunk he has had in weeks.

If anyone was looking at Hogar they would see a filthy Dwarven figure sitting in a pile of empty clay pots, the kind that rum and quality wine is shipped in.  A cagro net seems to have bundled the clay pots into some sort of crude raft.  However now, the clay pots are laying around, empty.

Looking up he see four figures, each dancing with each other.  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  They are still there when he opens them.  "Hey pipe down over there ye swabs! Ye be disturbing me rest and I be needing my rest or else I gets ornery."

"Now ye two half giants and ye twin boys just run off and play somewheres else. Leave me be."

Reaching out for the last upright jug, he raises it up over his head.  A single drop of amber liquid falls out of it onto his tongue.  He peers into the opening of the jug above his head and in Dwarvish you hear "Damn!"  Hogar tosses the clay jug over his shoulder on to a pile of broken clay jugs that is taller than he is.

The tension of the moment is broken by the drunken dwarf, and Hoat releases his hold on Azzedar.  The big man starts snickering, low at first, then building into huge gales of laughter.

Now THAT is the funniest thing I've seen in a handful of ten-days!"

The explosion of laughter cuts into Hogar's brain like a hot poker.  Placing a hand over each ear, the dwarf stands up swaying as if he was standing in a tempest.  "By Vergadain's Hairy Beard, when this unnatural storm blows itself out, I will be over there to pluck each and every hair out of your miserable and butt ugly face!"

Hogar takes a step or at least he starts to take a step.  Not noticing that his feet are tangled up in the cargo net.  Between that and his rum induced swaying, he falls flat on his face.

Turning over on his back to look behind him, you hear "Who hit Hogar the Hapless from the rear?"

Azzedar watches the dwarf through uncaring eyes, but he does bring a black gloved hand to cover his mouth when the dwarf falls on his front.  "A giant of a man and a drunk dwarf.  What else will I find, I wonder."  Azzedar starts off into the caves once again, now that the human has let his arm free.

[Private to DM N1NJ4C0W: Are we going to move, or are we waiting for more people?]

-PL-

[Private to Azzedar: Waiting. Jacktucker is ready but he hasn't posted and I haven't heard any word from Grimclaw in ages, although he is sorted as well. Raven...I'm not sure about. I don't know whether she's going to come back to us when she finishes her move or not.]

PM

[Private to DM N1NJ4C0W: Er.  Grimclaw is Hoat, and he's been posting.]

PL

[Private to Azzedar: Oh, sorry. I meant Kurgon.]

"I say who was the scurry scum that hit Hogar when he was not looking."

"Come out I say, ye be only making it rougher on ye-self by hiding from me!"

Pushing himself up from the ground, you see Hogar go over to a tidal pool and jump in.  In a few moments you see him washing his clothes and his body with great handfuls of sand.  Then he comes out and shakes like a dog, throwing water and wet globs of sand all around him.

"Now that felt good."

Stepping over to the one side of the pile of broken pottery, you see him pull out a ragged canvas bag.  Out of it you see him pull a really nice breastplate, a greataxe and a large heavy crossbow.  Soon he is dressed and ready for the day.  However he is still swaying a bit.

Looking up at Azzedar, he closes his eyes and then opens them again.  "I say little one, do ye have a couple of horns growing out of ye head.  Or am I still seeing things?"

Hearing pottery breaking, Zorlax eases around a corner to investigate. Ever open to the possiblity of gaing something left from a fight he spies three mongrels near the docks. Dirty and brutish comes to mind as he examines the 3. Likely all fighters and thieves. Well he could use a few able bodies when he looked for adventure on one of the ships. Perhaps....

Zorlax steps out and stands silently eyeing the others.

Hoat observes Hogar's cleaning ritual with amusement. Chuckling he steps forward, a huge hand raised in greeting.

"So now that you are all pretty, dwarf, I may buy you a drink when we find a place on this forsaken rock that sells them.  I am Hoat Hundemar, and that is a name you should remember. As for a drink..."

Hoat's head turns quickly as the new arrival makes himself known,

"Now, who is that one?"

Azzedar ignores the dwarf's question, but his eyes move to the person the giant mentions.  A feeling that he's seen the person before comes over him and he looks closer until h finally manages to connect the two things.  "You don't need to worry about him, he's just a weakling mage.  Nothing worth paying attention to."

Hogar swaying against the wind looks over at Hoat, "Hoat Hundemar, ye say, and ye can get drink from a forsaken rock.  Ye need to show me that trick, it would come in handy the next time I be shipwrecked on a forsaken island."

Pointing to Azzedar, Hogar asks Hoat, "Whats the deal with him, be his father a goat-man or something like that?  I know that he said he be a weakling mage and not important, but how strong be his magic?"

Poor Hogar has not seen the newcomer and thinks that Azzedar was describing himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Sun 30 Oct 2005.

"Quiet the lot o' yers!" comes a gruff, yet strangely sweet voice from directly behind Zorlax, a pair of weathered but definately feminine hands clap down upon his shoulders.
"This be my hidey-hole an all who reside in it work fer me. Consider yerselves press-ganged." she smiles before continuing "Those o' you who obey me without any fuss will earn themselves a decent share o' the loot, my favour an' all the grog ye can drink. Those who don't will find a dagger in 'em before sunrise. Ye dogs got that?"