Caleb landed one deck below with a crunch.

His breath whistled out of his lungs as he landed on his back. A twinge of pain ran up his spine and down his injured leg. For a moment, all he could do was fight to get his wind back. He sensed movement around him.

The clink of chains echoed in his ears. He lay in a shaft of sunlight marked by the broken edges of the lattice he’d fallen through. The glare made him squint. His sword lay a few inches away. He reached for it–

–and a cutlass blade came down point first, missing his outstretched hand by an inch.

Finally, his eyes adjusted to the difference in light. Two scruffy, black-clad Myrkur stood over him, gloating. Surrounding these men were a larger number of prisoners, each in cuffs and leg irons linked by lengths of rusty, pitted chain. They looked on incredulously as the sounds of battle went on overhead.

Caleb’s mind raced. Looks like these were the last of the Damsel’s crew. Left below to guard the prisoners. Or the human cargo, as the case may be.

The taller of the guards held the point of his cutlass to Caleb’s throat.

“Looks like Myr’s decided to give you a painful end,” he said. “Our Komtur’s going to have fun draining your soul.”

“Naw, kill him!” the other urged, as he kicked Caleb’s sword away. “This one looks like trouble!”

Can’t fight my way out of this without getting run through. What other abilities can I draw on? Magic? Did my earlier theatrics restore my Corsair skills? Only one way to find out…

Caleb grinned. He raised himself up on his elbows as he spoke.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure you can come up with better options than those two.”

The cultist squinted down at him. “What’re you talking about?”

Even as he readied his reply, Caleb envisioned his existing Character Buff and multiple Corsair abilities coming on line.

Existing Buffs:

Innate Charisma increased 9%.

Corsair Sub-Specialties:

Charisma Boost Bluff Assist Wind Shift, Minor

Caleb felt a tiny surge inside, as if he’d downed a shot of espresso. It wasn’t nearly as strong as he’d felt before. But it was there. That little surge steadied his insides as he continued to speak.

“I mean that you haven’t considered all the possibilities. What’s going to be best for you and your friend here. Kill me, and that’s it. Give me to your Komtur, and that’s it. Think he’ll reward you? He’ll just shrug and say, Why should I give you any gold? You two were just doing your job, the way you’re supposed to.”

The mention of gold hit home, at least. The taller guard licked his lips right as Caleb spoke the word.

“Don’t listen to ‘im!” the shorter one said. “He don’t have any gold in his pockets!”

“I wasn’t talking about my pockets. I’m talking much bigger stakes than that.”

The two guards continued listening. But their faces remained scowled in suspicion.

I’ve kept them from skewering me so far, that’s good. But how am I going to talk my way out of this situation?

His mind flitted back unbidden to the key elements in the description of his Corsair powers.

Charisma Boost:

This is not a form of Mind Control. Even at maximum strength, this will not win over people who are ill-disposed towards you.

Bluff Assist:

The possibility of a bluff succeeding is improved when it is in alignment with the subject’s beliefs.

Caleb immediately saw that his chance of talking his way out of this was low, very low. Even tempted by greed, these two Guardsmen were ill-disposed towards him. Nor was Caleb’s desired outcome in alignment with any follower of Myr’s beliefs.

The solution came to him in a flash.

It’s not just my abilities. It’s the audience I’m trying to reach.

“Much bigger stakes?” The taller guard guffawed. “By the flaming eyes of Myr, you got a treasure chest stuffed down those trousers? Maybe you got a tavern wench that buys that, ‘cause I don’t!”

“I don’t need a chest, at least the kind that holds coin,” Caleb said. “I’m talking about the most valuable prize of all: freedom. You hear what’s going on up there?”

The guards paused. Sure enough, the sounds of battle on deck had reached fever pitch. Clangs of swords, shouted oaths, and a leonine roar echoed down through the hole Caleb had made upon his entry.

“I’m Captain Caleb Ledger, and that’s my crew, taking over this ship.” Caleb raised his voice and felt it reverberate through the large compartment. “Seize the chance, and I’ll give you your freedom.”

Caleb heard excited whispers run the length of the room.

“It’s now or never,” he declared. “You only need to reach out to take it, if you are brave enough!”

The smaller guard’s eyes went wide.

“Myr take all! Watch out, he’s talkin’ to the–”

Hands shot out of the darkness. Several of the prisoners grabbed both of the guards’ arms. Two more wrapped the chains linking their wrists around their throats and yanked backwards, turning their bonds into makeshift garrotes.

The clink of chains and the curses of fighting men was deafening in the confined space.

In a flash, Caleb snatched up his cutlass and got to his feet. His back protested with a spasm of pain, and he felt the warm drip of blood flow down his boot where his wound had opened up again. He limped forward a step and brought his sword up.

A meaty pop! sounded as the shorter guard’s neck snapped under the pressure applied by the captives. The taller one wrenched himself free with a superhuman effort.

Caleb blocked the man’s overhand swing with his cutlass. A clang! drowned out the sounds of clinking chain. He ducked under the guard’s second swing, then lunged forward.

A shunk! as his cutlass sank into the man’s chest. The cultist let out a groan, then dropped dead. His sword fell with a clatter. It was immediately snatched up by one of the prisoners, a tall, emaciated man with a mop of unkempt curly hair.

“By Lir’s beard,” he gasped. “Were you talkin’ true, or just bluffing?”

“It’s the truth,” Caleb said quickly, as he looked around at the half-hopeful, half-desperate prisoners. “We’ve been tracking your ship, figuring that there would be captives or slaves aboard.”

“That we be, on both counts,” came the bitter reply. “But who might you be, and what’s your interest in us?”

“I lead a crew of Corsairs.” Caleb heard murmurs of excitement and fear as he said the words. “We can discuss that later. I need you out of these chains. If you men have any fire left in your bellies, I need you in the fight going on above decks.”

He heard a curse at that. One of the prisoners looked up from where he knelt by the guard’s bodies. The man shook his head.

“They don’t got keys on ‘em! We’re still trapped down here!”

“No,” Caleb stated firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He looked over the manacles and chains that made up their bonds. These were uniformly made of cracked, pitted, and rusty metal. He knelt clumsily and placed his hands on the length of chain that ran through all of the leg shackles, keeping the entire complement of prisoners together.

Two new screens blinked into existence in his Quest Window as he did so.

New Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Break into main chattel pen aboard Myrkur slave ship and dispatch the guards there. STATUS: COMPLETE. New Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Free the captives kept in the slave ship’s chattel pen. STATUS: IN PROGRESS.

Caleb invoked his latest Craft with Iron spell, boosting it with a healthy dose of XP.

Extend Forge Crack

A surge of power ran down the lengths of chain. It sent a ripple that arced with blue sparks through the decrepit, corroded metal. To a man, the prisoners drew back, eyes wide.

With a skin-tingling krisk-clank! the chain links shattered. Wrist or leg cuffs popped open or simply crumbled to pieces. A moment of silence as the prisoners looked on in awe.

As one, they let out a raucous cheer.

“Come on!” one of the men shouted, as he shucked the remains of his manacles. “Let’s give these bastard sons-of-Myr what-for!”

He led the charge aft towards the compartment’s single door. Together, the newly-freed captives battered it down. A shaft of light showed a narrow flight of stairs leading up to the main deck.

Suddenly, a double bang! erupted from above. The two lead prisoners tumbled back before they could take more than a step forward. They fell to the deck without moving, neat holes drilled through their foreheads.

The rest drew back as Caleb held steady, bringing his sword up.

He heard the creak of footsteps as someone descended the stairs. A dark figure wearing the silver-on-black trim of the Komtur’s uniform appeared in the doorway. The man held a smoking pistol in each hand.

Caleb’s breath whistled out as he caught sight of a narrow face dominated by a Roman nose. Dark eyes radiated a look of lazy arrogance. But what hit him hardest was the screen that appeared next to the figure as they locked gazes.

Name: Komtur Malum Kane Class: Rogue / Henchman Alignment: Neutral Evil Rogue-Specific Specialties: Sneak Attack Bonus, Expert-Level Duelist Henchman Sub-Specialties: Bonus to strength and speed when following orders: 15%

Malum Kane’s face was a portrait of pure joy.

“This day is full of surprises,” he said gleefully. “You are quite the catch, Captain Ledger. Quite the catch indeed!”