Smee sat in a corner, the darkness surrounded him. The lack of light no longer plagued him in this place. He had heard once, after what he figured was the third day of his entrapment, the sounds of fighting just outside the door. He remembered the feeling of relief, he knew it was no rescue party meant for him but whoever they were it was satisfactory.
After the sounds of battle came to a close and no one entered the door, he despaired slightly. He awaited the return of the demons and his own sacrifice but they never came. Instead, possibly the next day, he heard fighting again and this time the group was victorious. The door swung open and searing light pounded into his retinas.
“Oi’ me eyes!” he yelped. The group entered and surrounded Smee as his eyes adjusted to light once again. There was an elf, a half elf, a tiefling, and a small gnome. They stared at his gigantic person with a mixture of awe and disgust.
“What the fook are ye lookin’ at, ya wee shit?” he grunted at the gnome. In response, he was shot a quizzical look. The tiefling crept into a more advantageous position as the half elf approached.
“I am called Feanar, war deacon of the Order of the Secret Flame, and who might you be? Why are you here?”
Smee grunted before clambering up to his feet. He stood with his pelvis thrust forward fingering his belly button. “I am Smee, half breed. I was brought here as a sacrifice. And what brings a rag tag group of Feywilders into this place anyway?”
Feanar shifted his weight and he noticed the heavily armoured elf flank opposite to the tiefling. “We are here all for different reasons but also the same. There is a group of hags we all received omens about and are duty bound to destroy.”
“Oh aye? I know them hag bitches. One be a demon cunt, but don’t think they aren’t all pure evil. They are somewhere in this catacombs, it was they who intended to sacrifice me,” Smee explained as he hoisted his right breast to satisfy an itch underneath.
Feanar and the elf were obviously repulsed, but Feanar continued. “Well, the oozes are dead. I figure you are free to go. I see in you no enemy and I bid you safe travels.”
Smee gaffed heartily, throwing his head back and hugging his belly as it bounced up and down. “Oh, half breed, that is unacceptable! I am in the debt of you and yer friends! Shit, did’n you listen? They were gointa kill me! No no, not me. It is not yet my time. By the pirates’ code I am bound to you all by a life debt.”
The tiefling and elf relaxed and the gnome continued to tweak in the corner as Smee’s laugh echoed through the halls. Feanar’s face contorted as he gave the gigantic pirate a thorough up and down. “This Smee is obviously human, but his skin is grey! Look at his beard, unkempt and red like blood. All those scars on his face…he must be a gifted or tough warrior at the least,” thought Feanar. He also took note of his baggy black pants held up by a belt with a large buckle underneath which ran a soiled red sash. His boots were nearly to his knees that his pants were tucked into. He was bare chested with a bulbous pannus and female sized breasts. He was filthy, foul mouthed, but intimidating. All he wore on his upper half was an interesting set of leather straps with 3 empty slots a piece.“Well, welcome Smee. That one there is Thamar, a paladin of Vandria. The gnome there is Erza, a great fighter but slightly uncouth barbarian. And that one is Algares, our nimble thief. Handur, an elf druid, is not here but if you survive long enough you shall meet him as well.”
“Well met! I haveta say, they took all me fookin’ weapons. For the most part, I don’ give a shit. But they took me pistols. Help me find them, if they still be here, and I shall show you my quality.”