"I pray that mighty Gozreh

Will hold my child fast

For plague and war

Took the other four

And this one be my last."

- from "The Mariner's Mother" by Kalsedon the Muse-Pen, Act II, Scene I, Lines 21-25

16th Sarenith, 4721

Western Inner Sea, North of Thuvia, South of Cheliax

Temperance was stripped to the waist, revealing a torso that was a roadmap of scars both large and small. He did not have the defined muscles of a body builder, but the solid bulk of functional strength. Currently, he was taking a bristle brush to the boards of the Godray's top deck. It was tedious work, surprisingly labor intensive, but Tem didn't mind it. If anything, he got lost in the rhythmic motion of the brush against the deck, the swishwish swishswish of each forward and back motion. He worked without complaint, his near meditative mental state only broken by the crew taking up a shanty every now and again. Feeling his muscles putting out effort had a certain primal satisfaction to it. Perhaps that was why Tem had taken to training so well when he'd first joined the Crusaders.

The crew of the Godray had mostly ignored Temperance at first, expecting him to give up on the work once he experienced what it was like. When the tiefling proved he was more than willing to put his full effort into it, they warmed to him. In particular was a bald, wiry Shoanti human named Maza. Stubble dusted their chin and jaws. They, like Tem, had shed the clothing on their torso and scrubbed the deck beside the tiefling. Their chest, back, and arms were covered in traditional Shoanti tattoos.

"...then the dire shark ate the barrel of ale we threw at it, got drunk, and died in the water. True story." Maza finished recounting.

"Barrel of ale weighs a lot. How did only three of you manage to lift it and throw it well enough for it to go into the shark's mouth?"

"Very carefully", was all Maza had to say about that.

Tem snickered, shaking his head. "You know, Maza, I've heard some tall tales, but you'd put my clan's storytellers to shame."

Maza snorted, then, "clan? 'Tasgal' is a clan name, then?"

"It is." Tem said with a nod. "One of the Varisian clans that's still nomadic. Our oldest storyteller was Sandru. He'd weave some story about kingdoms of giants in the clouds eating dragon cakes with kobolds as sprinkles and have everyone believing it." He laughed again. "Ah, miss that old codger. Miss the whole caravan, really. But, Desna will make sure my road intersects with theirs again one day, I'm sure."

"Dragon cake. That doesn't sound appetizing." Maza joked, making a face. "Blech, Gozreh's garters, sounds dirty, too, now that I think about it."

"You turn everything dirty, Master Maza." Captain Yifeng said as she approached the two of them. She had left her fine coat in her cabin, wearing only a shirt that left her midriff exposed. A small fire opal dangled from a piercing in her navel, adding to all the metal in her ears.

Tem realized he was staring after several moments, then went back to scrubbing, glad Yifeng was focused on Maza.

"Can't help it, Cap'n. You keep me in the sun for too long. Fries my brain, it does." Maza lamented.

"Of course." Yifeng said, looking over to Tem. "I hope they haven't poisoned your mind with all the shite that spills from their mouth."

"Not at all. Good way to pass the time." Tem said as he worked. "I hope Asaf hasn't poisoned yours with his…self-assurance."

Yifeng let a single laugh huff through her nostrils. She had hosted Asaf in her cabin for dinner each evening, as apparently befitted a nobleman aboard ship. Temperance had not yet had a chance to share wine and stories with the captain as they had agreed, but that was alright. He didn't think himself a particularly good storyteller anyway.

"His Lordship has been an interesting guest, I will say." Yifeng admitted, crossing her arms and putting her weight on one leg. "So interesting that he interests himself most of all."

Laughter from Temperance, Yifeng, and Maza, though Tem did not add anything. A bit of a joke was one thing, but it would be dishonorable to truly speak ill of Asaf when the aasimar was not around to say anything in his own defense.

"Ah, but truth be told, I've had far, far shittier people on this ship.." Yifeng went on. "A Chelaxian duke, for instance. Never doing that again. Fucking prick." She spat over the railing.

Temperance nodded as he scrubbed. The nobility of Cheliax were well known for cruelty, summoning and binding devils, and enslaving people. One would think that in a nation run by devil summoners tieflings would be welcome, but the opposite was true; the Chelaxians saw tieflings as the result of mortal weakness. The one summoning the devil or whatever other fiendish creature was supposed to be the master, in charge of the exchange, not giving in to base desires. As such, tieflings were enslaved or killed outright within the bounds of Infernal Cheliax and its vassal states. Tem hated the Chelaxian nobility, and all non-nobles who supported the regime. The Chelish ethnicity, which was much farther afield than Cheliax, did not bear his ire, that would be foolish. Tem hated Chelaxian diabolists almost as much as he did the cults and demons in the Worldwound. The amount of pain and suffering they inflicted on others…

"Sir Temperance? Are you alright?" Yifeng asked, raising a green eyebrow.

Tem blinked. He realized he had stopped scrubbing and was gripping his brush with white knuckles.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry, Captain." Tem said, clearing his throat and getting back to work.

Yifeng and Maza looked at each other, the latter shrugging their shoulders.

"Anyhow, Sir Temperance, I wanted to tell you that I let Lord Asaf know I'm going to be busy tonight. Busy, that is, hosting you in my cabin for dinner. We had an agreement, if I'm remembering right." Yifeng said.

Glad for the change of subject, Tem said, "you just tell me the time, Captain, and I'll be happy to be there. I'll have some good Crusade stories ready and wear my finest suit, too."

"You better. I've got a reputation to uphold, you know." Yifeng joked. "Seventh bell. Bring an empty stomach."

"I'll see about bringing two. See you then." Tem agreed with a smile.

Yifeng dipped her head then walked away, leaving Tem and Maza to their scrubbing.

"Lucky you. Wier is the best cook to sail the Inner Sea. I'm surprised the Captain is so thin, eating it all the time." Maza commented.

"Don't you eat it, too?" Tem aksed.

"Well, yes, but for us it's usually some kind of stew or another with hardtack. Maybe some fruit if we're not long out of port." Maza said. "Yifeng and Kidist get the real good stuff. But, guess that's part of the privilege that goes along with the responsibility of benign an officer." Their face said they were envisioning a time when such privileges and responsibilities would be theirs.

"Is Yifeng a good captain?" Temperance asked, feeling he'd established enough of a rapport with Maza to ask such things.

"I'd say so." Maza mused. "I've been on a few ships since I was just a bairn. She's the youngest captain I've served under, for sure. Runs the Godray like she was born to do it, though. Not much to say, if I'm honest. She's fair; stern when she needs to be, forgiving when she needs to be. Doesn't treat us like cattle like a lot of captains do. Captain Yifeng has my loyalty, sure as sure."

The two of them kept working. That sounded good to Tem. In his experience, if an enlisted person didn't like an officer, and that officer wasn't around, it wasn't difficult to get them to explain exactly how much they did not like said officer. Regardless, he looked forward to dinner.

Tem's "finest suit" was the spare shirt and pair of laced leather pants he kept in his bag of holding. He arrived at the door to Captain Yifeng's cabin right as one of the sailors on watch was ringing seventh bell. Unlike most of the crew, who occupied one large hold in the Godray's single lower deck, Yifeng's cabin was on the upper deck at the back of the ship, the helm deck being its ceiling.

Temperance felt a little nervous and he wasn't sure why at first. The realization came to him that this was going to be the first time he was taking a meal in a personal setting with just one other person since before he joined the Crusaders. Growing up in the caravan, every meal was communal, usually accompanied by stories or music. Even the awkward dinner with Lady Damaq had been mostly Asaf and her talking while Tem used the wrong forks for the wrong foods.

Five-Winged Knight, this may not be my usual battlefield, but I ask your aid regardless. Tem mentally prayed to Ragathiel. He knocked on the door when the ringing bell finally went quiet.

After several seconds, the door to the cabin swung open and Yifeng waited inside. She was dressed in the same clothes as she had been earlier, not that Tem was going to complain about that. If anything he'd feel like a bother if she'd gotten herself all dressed up.

"Sir Temperance. Literally right on time." The Captain said, stepping back and gesturing inside. "C'mon in."

Temperance ducked his head to step inside. He had to do that a lot on this ship. Yifeng's cabin would not be considered large or luxurious on land, but after sharing a broom closet's worth of space with Asaf for several days, the captain's quarters were positively sprawling by comparison. Yifeng seemed to have a thing for maps. They covered her walls, ranging from global maps of Golarion all the way down to very specific regional maps. Some of them were yellow with age, clearly inaccurate. A round table with a covered platter sat in the middle of the room. Yifeng's cot and a small desk were relegated to one wall, several locked chests on the other.

Tem looked at the maps as Yifeng closed the door behind him. He'd never exactly had an interest in maps or cartography, but some of them were quite artful, with great details going into the scrollwork around the edges. One world map of Golarion was clearly enchanted, for it depicted tiny figures from many nations in their national costumes performing traditional dances from their homelands, from the stiff court dances of Taldor to a sweeping sword dance from Kelesh.

"Never seen a map like this one." Tem said, indicating the animated chart.

"I hadn't either. That's why I took it from the cabin of the Chelaxian bastard who owned it before me." Yifeng snorted as she came to his side to look at it as well. "They've got slavers running under false colors all over the inner sea. Figured it was only right I took something of his, given what he planned to take from us."

"Aye." Tem agreed, looking around the room. "This is quite a collection you've put together. You take all of them from people dumb enough to fight you?"

"Not all of them. Just the best ones." Yifeng revealed, gesturing in a wide arc with one arm. "Some were maps I bought because I actually needed them. Some just looked unique. My father gave me a few; he keeps an eye out in his travels. A couple are even gifts from suitors who found out I collect them."

"How'd that work out for them?" Tem asked with a smirk.

"Do you see me sharing this cabin with anyone?" Yifeng retorted with a similar expression. "But enough about all that. Come plant your ass over here and let's get started. I haven't eaten all day and I'm about to dive overboard and bite into the first thing with fins that comes into view."

Tem did as he was told, going over to the table, but not sitting down until his host was doing the same. Yifeng removed the lid to on the platter, revealing a whole chicken. There was some bread, jam, and dried fruit, too.

"Alright, and let's see what kind of taste in wine you have." Yifeng said, producing the bottle Temperance had purchased before getting on the ship. She inspected the bottle.

"My taste is 'the guy at the wine shop told me this was a good one'", Tem revealed.

"Well, if it's good enough for the Duke of Storms, it's good enough for me. And lucky for you, Hei Feng loves all wine" Yifeng said, pouring two glasses. "Now, don't be shy, dig in."

"Thank you." Temperance said, immediately ripping one of the drumsticks from the chicken. It smelled heavily of butter. Sure enough, when he took a bite, butter was what he tasted. It was delicious, and the tiefling rumbled deep in his chest in a happy way to reflect that.

"Right? Wier's butter boiled chicken is to die for. You picked a lucky day to be in here." Yifeng enthused, having done the same as Tem with the other drumstick.

"Butter boiled chicken? Huh. Never would've thought of boiling an entire chicken in butter." Tem said. He cleaned the drumstick with just a few more bites, already able to tell he was going to eat far too much of it. "So, Captain, I have to ask. Why is it called the Godray?"

"The one who had it built, Captain Strake, was devoted to Sarenrae. When the Godray fell into my hands, I couldn't bring myself to change the name." Yifeng explained.

Tem nodded. He started ripping some more chicken free.

"How long ago was that?" He queried.

"Not long. Only a few years." Yifeng said. "But, enough about me, let's hear about you, Sir Temperance. Anything you'd like. That's why I brought you in here." She leaned on her elbows and smiled.

Temperance noticed how she seemed keen to change topics. Well, far be it from him not to oblige.

"Well, let's see. You asked about the Crusade" Tem said, taking a bite, chewing contemplatively, then swallowing. He picked up his wine cup. "Alright. Here's one. When we were assaulting Drezen, I ended up in a shieldwall holding off a counterattack. Drezen's split into tiers, right? We were holding the stairs from the first to the second tier while a battering ram smashed down the gate blocking our way."

Yifeng nodded, listening intently.

"So, this horde of schirs, these goat demon things, were mobbing us, just throwing themselves against us. So many went down they had to climb over their dead kin. I was positive we were going to hold when a boulder comes soaring in, crushing a half-dozen Crusaders flat…", Tem said, pausing at the memory. He blinked, taking a sip of wine as the recollection passed. It was over. It was in the past. "Anyway, it had been thrown by a hill giant. The corruption of the Abyss had taken it a long time ago. It charged our line, smashing aside its own allies, swinging this big old club around and it…uh…"

More Crusaders, smashed flat, broken piles of steel, blood, and bones. Screams as surviving schirs surged into the gap, their filth encrusted glaives leaving wounds that would fester within hours. Nearby, a dwarven artificer fumbles a bomb as he's run through, consuming himself and his killer in a gout of alchemical fire. Someone cries out to Iomedae, pleading, wondering why the Inheritor has forsaken us, before the giant's club silences him…

"Sir Temperance?" Yifeng asked.

Tem looked over at her, realizing he'd fallen silent, the hand holding his wine glass trembling.

"I'm…sorry." The tiefling finally muttered, his appetite nowhere to be found anymore. He willed his hand to stop shaking. "I…haven't really talked about the Crusade since I left. I didn't know it would…I mean, that I couldn't…I'm sorry." He repeated.

"Sir Temperance. Listen to me." Yifeng said, getting his attention from across the table. "Fighting the demons we have up here is a lot different than the ones you fought in the Worldwound." She tapped her temple

"Other Crusaders are writing books and songs about it…", Tem started to say.

"Good for them. That's probably how they cope with it. How many more are silently wrestling with what they saw?" Yifeng frowned. "You're allowed to feel what you feel, Sir Temperance. Don't let anyone else tell you when you should or shouldn't be 'alright' with what you went through up there. And knock out of the teeth of anyone who tells you otherwise."

Tem looked back at her, registering what she said. It was true. There was a reason so many Crusaders had immediately gone to the Gravelands to fight Tar-Baphon and his undead. If the fight kept going, one didn't really have to stop and think about what they'd been through. The fight ahead was easier to focus on.

"Tem." He said at length.

"Hm?" Yifeng prompted.

"You can just call me Tem." The tiefling clarified.

Yifeng smiled. "Alright, Tem. Let's hear about something else. Tell me about your family. Your clan."

That was always a happy subject. So, Temperance did. He spoke at length about Charani, the woman who raised him. Tem talked about Sandru and his stories, Grigor's legendarily loud snoring, and Jastina's improvised dances. Several times, Temperance gave Yifeng a chance to talk about her own past, her family, but each time she'd pass the conversation back to Tem with a gracious deflection. That was alright. He didn't force the issue and continued steering the conversation to lighter topics.

The wine kept flowing right along with time. Eventually, Tem had gotten something out of Yifeng; stories about her captaincy of the Godray.

"...and then…and then…", Yifeng was saying between gasps, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. "This son of a bitch opens the door, naked as the day he was born, and he says…", another fit of giggles overtook her before she managed to say in an overblown deep voice, "'Captain, I'm afraid I must take issue with the dress code aboard your vessel.'"

Tem wheezed, thumping the table as his tail thudded up and down behind him. His sides were in stitches and he tried to catch his breath. He looked across the table at Yifeng. She couldn't have been much older than him, but there were already laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. They were a nice thing to see.

Finally, catching her breath, Yifeng sighed and drained the remnants of her wine glass. "Ah, but that was the last time I bring a priest of Erastil on this ship. Phew. I haven't laughed like that in…too long."

"Me neither." Temperance agreed, smiling across the table. Between them, the chicken had been picked down to the bone over the course of the conversation,

Outside, the bell started ringing. Ten clangs. Gods, the time had flown past.

Feeling both the wine and the exhaustion from his labors aboard the ship that day, Tem let out a long breath and said, "well, Captain, I have to thank you for the invitation again. I think I needed this."

"I did, too." Yifeng agreed, leaning back in her chair.

"Much as I'd like to keep drinking your wine, I'd better go get some sleep. The Captain I work for, she's a damn slave driver, let me tell you." Tem joked as he rose from his chair. The motion of the deck combined with the wine to make his footing a little…loose.

"Slave driver, eh? Alright, I'll live up to that title tomorrow and you'll fucking wish for the work you were getting before." Yifeng retorted, feigning offense.

Tem cocked his head. "Me and my big mouth, eh?"

"You and your big mouth, indeed, Tem." Yifeng said, putting on a vicious face, then letting it soften. "You really are something else." She scooted her chair back and leisurely made her way over to the door.

"That's a good thing, I hope." Tem said, walking with her.

"As far as I can tell…probably." Yifeng said.

The two of them reached the door to the cabin.

"Thanks again, Captain." Temperance told her.

"You know, when it's just the two of us, or we're not aboard ship, you can just call me Yifeng." The half-elf said casually.

"Yifeng." Tem repeated, nodding to himself as if in approval. "In that case, thanks again, Yifeng. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sleep well down there, my friend." Yifeng said, that smirk of hers returning in force.

Tem stepped out of the cabin and onto the deck, in the balmy night air. He was then entirely focused on navigating the steep stairs and narrow passages of the Godray, finally reaching his hammock and falling into it to a peaceful, contented sleep.

17th Sarenith, 4721 AR

Western Inner Sea, North of Rahadoum, South of Cheliax

The ship's bells were ringing, a noise that Tem had more or less gotten used to over the past few days. It was when they kept ringing beyond what would be used to indicate the hour that stirred him from slumber, a minor hangover immediately gripping him as he came awake.

"Quarters! All hands, general quarters!" A voice was shouting from somewhere aboard the ship.

"Merciful bloody Sarenrae…" Asaf complained from his hammock, swinging himself out and beginning to get dressed.

"Whassat all about?" Tem asked groggily.

"Aboard a ship, the call to general quarters means all hands must prepare for battle. We are either being attacked or about to attack someone else. I would guess the former, unless I have grossly misunderstood Captain Valonqar's intentions as a ship captain." Asaf said, hastily pulling on a boot. "I suggest you leave your armor and shield behind. If you end up going over the rail, you'll not be swimming with all that steel on your person."

The prospect of battle jarring him to action, Tem rolled out of the hammock. He had gone to sleep in the clothes he'd worn the night before, but reached for the gambeson he usually wore under his half-plate.

"When that thing gets wet, it will drag you down just as badly as steel." Asaf advised, pulling a shirt over his head. He made no move to don his armor.

Tem grunted in a frustrated tone, but did as the aasimar suggested. He did, however, take his shield. If, for some reason, Tem went into the sea, he could just drop the shield and focus on not losing Forbearance. Ensuring the bastard sword was securely strapped to his back, Temperance opened the door to their billet and headed for the top deck.

The Godray was a flurry of activity. The master at arms was passing out boarding pikes and crossbows. Sailors were scurrying up and down the rigging. There was no artillery on the Godray, which seemed to be the norm for sailing ships.

Tem looked around and spied Yifeng on the aft deck. He hustled over and up the stairs to stand beside her. The half-elf was staring out through a looking glass off the Godray's port side.

"Glad you could join us, Tem." Yifeng said, offering him the looking glass, pointing with her other hand beyond the starbordside bow. "Look there."

Tem saw two distant vessels, then brought the glass to his eye and peered through it. They were small ships, schooners tearing across the waves on an intercept course for the Godray.

"They aren't flying a flag." Tem realized, handing the glass back.

"Exactly. And they're coming from the north." Yifeng said with a deep scowl. "Chelaxian slavers. They'll take ships that aren't flying colors of the other big powers in the region, like us."

A shout from the crow's nest. "Captain! Sails 'ho, portside!"

Tem and Yifeng swiveled that way. Asaf, who was just then surmounting the aft deck's stairs, did the same. Sure enough, Tem could see the distant ship, silhouetted against the sandstone cliffs of Rahadoum's northern coast. A murmur went around the ship, sailors clearly full of trepidation at this new development.

Yifeng let out a string of curses in the Shu language, her tense mood darkening to something else much more stormy.

"Perhaps now would be a wise time to jibe and return the way we came." Asaf suggested. It was not a coward's desire to flee. At least, it didn't sound that way to Tem. Perhaps Asaf was just good at hiding it.

"And give these fucking bilge drinkers free reign to take someone else? No." Yifeng snapped, then more quietly. "Besides, they'd catch us. Against two of them I'd like our odds. Three…this…could get complicated", she gave Tem and Asaf a steely look. "I won't run. They're going to pay the godsdamned price for the life they've chosen to live. If you have an issue with that, you're both welcome to a lifeboat."

Others might have counseled the Captain to greater caution but Temperance would not. There was no turning Yifeng from this course, Tem could see that. Her patron was the Duke of Storms, and it was a storm that Temperance could see in the half-elf's blue-green eye. Her rage would be a match for the legendary fury of Hei Feng.

"Ragathiel's title is the General of Vengeance, Captain." Temperance said with determination. "And if there's one thing slavers deserve, it's vengeance brought down on their heads."

Yifeng held Temperance's gaze. There was no thanks or words of camaraderie. There didn't need to be.

"Ah, Captain. If I might offer a suggestion. And a suggestion only, of course. This is your ship." Asaf began, his usual air of superiority nowhere to be found.

Yifeng nodded. "Quickly, if you please, Lord." She took up her nine-ring sword, removing the leather blade guard. The moment the guard came free, whatever enchantment held the rings still was dispelled, causing them to clang and rattle as gravity took hold of them.

"If you turn your bow and head straight for the lone schooner off the port side, I could use my magic to burn it from afar." The aasimar suggested.

"Bad idea. They often have slaves in their holds." Yifeng revealed. "It's a good way to prevent exactly what you're thinking. They're also used for all the drudge work the slavers don't feel like doing."

Asaf tilted his head in recognition, but surprisingly, kept going. "Understood. In that case, Sir Temperance, the Crimson Templars' particular divine magic; you are taught to fly? At least for a limited time?"

"Aye." Tem confirmed, wondering what Asaf was planning. Crimson Templars were not inherently spellcasters. They learned magical abilities, but they were very specific, very specialized abilities. Limited flight was one of them.

"Perfect. Then, here is what I propose", Asaf quickly rattled off. "Sir Temperance and I shall use flight magic to board one of the two schooners off starboard, free any slaves that might be aboard, and then torch the vessel. With luck, we'll be able to do that to both of them, but I doubt we shall have that kind of time. In the mean time, it would behoove you to turn your bow on the lone ship to port, engage it, and hopefully thin their ranks enough to do battle with the second vessel, should it close on you in time. They will not want to destroy your ship for fear of losing potential prisoners. It will give Sir Temperance and I time to return and support you."

"Attack a godsdamned ship? By yourselves? I can't ask you to take that risk. You're not even of my crew. Helping defend the Godray is one thing, but this…" Yifeng started to protest.

Tem inhaled to say something, but Asaf beat him to it.

"You're correct, Captain. We are not of your crew. You do not have to ask this of us." Asaf said. His bracelet formed into a spear in his hand. "I believe a Pathfinder's true calling is to make the world a better place. So that is what I shall do. Besides…", the aasimar gave a toothy grin, "...imagine the tale this shall make after we've won."

With that, and an uttered word of power, Asaf flew up into the air.

"May Ragathiel fight at your back, Captain." Temperance said as he began focusing his will.

"And may Hei Feng's winds bring you back safely, Tem." Yifeng responded.

Five wings of scarlet fire erupted from Tem's back, a burning facsimile of the same pentad of wings borne by Ragathiel himself. It caused Yifeng to take a couple of steps back in surprise. The rest of the Godray's crew looked to Temperance with a mixture of awe, shock, and fright. With a rush of heat haze, he shot off the deck, following after his partner. He tried to think of something inspiring to say to the crew, but by the time he had anything he was already too far away to say it. He caught up with Asaf as the two of them soared over the waves, the two schooners off the Godray's starboard rapidly getting closer.

"I shall go below deck and free any prisoners they hold." Asaf said quickly, the wind whipping his golden hair about his face. "Do you think you can hold their attention on the top deck while I do that?"

"I think I can manage it." Temperance said, drawing Forbearance.

"I had a feeling. You don't exactly fade into the background on the most calm of days, I imagine." Asaf said with a snort.

"Going to choose to take that as a compliment." Tem muttered as they closed with the target ship. "Get behind me and get ready."

"Get behind you? For what?" Asaf asked, somewhat indignant.

Tem didn't reply, putting on a quick burst of speed to get in front of Asaf and send several arrows clanging off his shield.

"No comment." The aasimar said.

"Ddin't think so." Temperance sighed, then pulled his wings in close and dove down at the nearest ship. The rigging made swooping back and forth a bad idea, so Tem hurtled down at the aft deck where a half-dozen sailors looked on with growing panic. They were humans ith Chelish features; dark hair, pale skin, high cheekbones. It didn't necessarily mean they were Chelaxians, but given they had shot arrows at Tem and Asaf before the two of them could land and clear up any potential misunderstandings, they clearly weren't friends.

Tem slashed with Forbearance as he landed, sending out an arc of blood as the bastard sword hacked through two sailors. He slammed into a third with his shield to stop his momentum, pitching the victim over the rail and into the sea. As his wings faded, Tem put the helm at his back, facing the three remaining slavers. Flames engulfed his sword as Tem blocked two cutlass cuts with his shield, parrying a third with Forbearance. He swept the shield before himself, knocking the blades of his enemies aside. Three swift moves; a stab through the chest of the slaver on Tem's right, a shield rim in the throat to the one on the left, and a boot to the groin for the third and final.

All three slavers dropped, the latter one collapsing to his knees as his hands clutched between his legs, leaving him open to having his skull split open with a downward chop from Forbearance.

"Five-Winged Knight be praised!" Temperance called out in exultation of Ragathiel, wheeling about. He watched as Asaf descended near the hatch to the lower deck.

A great torrent of frost issued forth from Asaf's open hand, engulfing several of the Chelish sailors. As the wind cleared the cloud, it showed the slavers had been frozen solid. Asaf dropped beside another slaver, his spear punching down through the woman's chest and transfixing her to the deck. Asaf yanked his spear free and turned to face another slaver.

Tem hacked at the schooner's helm, reducing it to splinters as he passed and vaulted the railing in front of it, coming down beside Asaf as the aasimar deflected a boarding pike's thrust and blinded the pike's wielder with a quick acid cantrip aimed at the slaver's face. The Chelish man dropped his weapon and fell back, clutching at his sizzling face.

"Get below! I'll handle this!" Temperance bellowed, bisecting another slaver with an uppercutting swipe that sent their two cooked halves flopping wetly to the deck.

Tem felt energy course through his limbs. It was some kind of magical blessing, lending vigor and strength to him.

"There. Try not to die, eh?" Asaf said before wrenching open the hatch and descending into the ship.

Tem let out a long breath as more slavers closed in around him. There were at least three dozen of them. There couldn't have been many more below, given the size of the ship. Tem would have to use the layout of the deck to his advantage.

The flames around Forbearance surged brightly as Temperance steeled himself. He spoke in a low, dangerous voice as the slavers cautiously surrounded him.

"Upon my blade, sinners, find peace." He recited.

Then Temperance charged.

Asaf rapidly descended into the hold of the schooner. Two of the slavers were immediately ahead of him, protecting a door with one-handed boarding axes.

"Hello, gentlemen. I suggest you surrender and let me pass, or I am afraid we are going to have a disagreement." Asaf advised, his spear shifting in his hand, shrinking into bracelet form, then turning into a shortsword that was much better suited for those cramped confines. "The disagreement, of course, being whether or not you live to see tomorrow." In his mind, he was trying to plan a good strategy. There was probably a long fight ahead, at the very least a flight back to the Godray, and Asaf would need to conserve his magic.

Neither Chelishman looked inclined to give way. With a quick motion of his fingers, Asaf shot out a frost cantrip at the guard on his left. The guard managed to weave aside at the last second, resulting in a rime coated circle on the wood behind where his head had been. The other guard took the chance to lunge forward and hack at Asaf. The aasimar slid to his right, the guard's attack missing, his axe hitting the stairs to the top deck with a thunk.

Asaf was about to finish off his attack when the man he'd shot frost at was upon him, running up to tackle Asaf. It was a move meant to deal with escaped slaves, with one slaver immobilizing the victim so other slavers could approach and beat the escapee into submission. The Pathfinder braced himself, but his opponent was bigger and strong. Asaf was driven back, past the stairs, slamming into a wall. Air whistled out of his lungs.

Asaf stabbed downward at his attacker's back before the man could pull out of the tackle and attack with his axe. The angle was bad, the shortsword skittering off the man's left shoulder blade. It was still a wound, of course, and the slaver grunted with pain, backing off. Asaf sent another mote of frost at him, this one taking the man dead center of mass. He hissed at what would have been instant frostbite. By now, Asaf saw that the other guard had freed his axe from the wood of the stairs and was coming around the other side to flank the aasimar.

So, Asaf pressed his attack on the already injured guard, launching another frost ray. The Chelishman flattened himself against the wall to dodge it, which opened him up for Asaf taking a long stride forward, lifting the guard's arm with his free hand, and in the same motion, stabbing his shortsword home. The blade bit deep, blood running over Asaf's fingers as the slaver's heart was pierced. The guard shuddered and drew in a ragged, bewildered breath. Then, Asaf was ripping his sword free, letting the man drop as the Pathfinder swiveled around just in time to block an attack from the second guard.

Asaf tried to take a step back to reset his stance, but his heel caught the still twitching body of his first kill. The aasimar stumbled, the acid cantrip he'd intended to use fizzling and failing. The slaver's axe was coming in and Asaf had no other option. A shield spell's protective bubble surrounded him, causing the axe to rebound. Asaf set his feet as the bubble faded, the slaver aiming for the Pathfinder's left rib area. Asaf parried this, then snatched the wrist of his opponent's weapon hand, giving the aasimar the chance to step in and slash his sword across the guard's throat. Asaf threw his shoulder into his enemy, sending the gurgling, sputtering man falling backwards. Not even watching the man drop, Asaf yanked a keyring from the belt of the first man he had killed, then ran to the door they had been protecting, unlocking it.

The smell of unwashed bodies wafted out of the door as Asaf opened it, causing him to quietly gag. He entered the dark hold all the same, to the cries and wails of those within. His Celestial blood granted him many gifts, and darkvision was one of them. He could see there were about twenty poor souls chained up in the hold. Asaf counted four halflings, a half-elf, and at least one tiefling. The rest were humans of various ancestries, mostly Chelish, Taldan, and Keleshite.

Asaf summoned his halo, washing the room in gentle, golden light. The cries faded, as he had hoped.

"It's alright, everyone. My name is Asaf. My partner and I are here to rescue you but we must hurry." The aasimar said, able to hear the sounds of combat on the deck above them. Temperance was still fighting. In fact, Asaf could see a few beads of blood running between the boards in the deck over their heads.

Asaf held up the keys, unlocking the nearest person; a halfling woman with red hair and a freckled face.

"Take these, unlock everyone else. I must go help my partner. Does anyone here know how to fight?" Asaf asked.

"I do, by Chaldira's grace. I'm a Bellflower." The halfling woman said, intoning both the name of the halfling god of battle, luck, and mischief, as well as the Bellflower Network; a group dedicated to freeing slaves across Avistan, but focusing mostly on Cheliax.

A few said they did, too, the tiefling among them.

"I was a Sister of the Golden Erinyes, though these bastards don't know that or I'd be sleeping at the bottom of the sea." The tiefling explained. It was a vaunted order of warrior monks dedicated to Asmodeus, the Prince of Hell. They specialized in unarmed combat. Such was the only way a tiefling could have a modicum of freedom in Cheliax; through the church of Asmodeus.

Asaf handed the halfling woman the keys. "Alright. That will do. There's two axes lying on the ground out there in the hall. Take them, use them to protect these people and get them to the lifeboats. Based on what I am hearing, there will be more weapons up on deck. Focus on getting out of here. When you're away, my partner and I will make good our escape. Make haste." With that, he turned and ran for the stairs.

Temperance held his shield behind his head, feeling a belaying pin clank against it as he stabbed forward with Forbearance. The burning sword plunged into the belly of a slaver wielding a dirk in each hand. The tiefling yanked up on the bastard sword, splitting the dirk wielder's top half in two, bringing Forbearance up and pivoting to strike the sword down on the shoulder of the Chelishwoman behind him. The arm holding her belaying pin came off with a stream of steaming blood that sizzled as it ran down Forbearance's fullers. Tem punched with his shield and sent her down.

The slavers on either side of Temperance hesitated. The tiefling used the chance to heave a few breaths in and out. Nine of the slaving bastards lay dead or dying on the deck. Temperance had a shallow wound in the small of his back, another on the inside of his left thigh, and a somewhat deeper one in the left crook of his neck.

"What's the matter? Not as fun when someone's fighting back, is it?!" Tem snarled, then pressed the flat of Forbearance against the wound in his neck, the holy flame overcoming both the inborn resistance to fire granted by his Infernal blood and that bestowed on him by the magic of the Crimson Templars. He howled, in anger and in pain, as the burning steel cauterized the wound, the scarlet fire of Ragathiel streaming from his eyes in bright ribbons for a few moments. Several of the slavers went wide eyed at this display, the one nearest to Tem's front actually backing away from the Templar.

In truth, Temperance knew he wouldn't be able to beat them all. They'd already lost almost half their number since Tem and Asaf landed. There was a chance he could kill enough to make the rest surrender, maybe.

Suddenly, the hatch was thrown open. Asaf emerged, carrying a shortsword. Behind him was a halfling with a boarding axe, then a tiefling woman apparently entirely built of whipcord muscle. Temperance had remained near the hatch, where the main mast and the aft deck on either side of him limited where his foes could attack from. There were three lifeboats along either of the ship's rails, and it was towards these the emerging prisoners ran.

The halfling's eyes were almost feral as she hurled herself at a slaver, hacking into the man's knee to bring him down to her level, then lodging her axe in the man's skull. On the other side of the main mast, the tiefling's fists became a blur, landing a quartet of rapid blows that sent another slaver down. The Chelaxian was clutching at her throat, trying to get air through a crushed wind pipe. Other prisoners were taking up weapons from those Tem had killed.

At this sudden surge of more armed bodies, the surviving slavers' morale finally broke and they fled back from the escapees and their guards, making for the prow, a few backing away with weapons held defensively before them. The schooner was a charnel house by now, strewn with corpses, bits of bodies, and splashes of blood.

"Leave them! Get aboard the boats, everyone!" Asaf urged the prisoners, reining in the vengeful looking prisoners who, reasonably, were looking for payback. "Sir Temperance!"

Tem, who was by the portside lifeboats, looked across the schooner to see Asaf at the starboard rail.

"What?" The Templar called back.

"Put that fire of yours to use, then lets get back to the Godray. We'll pick these people up when the Godray is secured." Asaf laid out the plan.

Tem nodded. It was as good a plan as any. He helped the last few escapees into the lifeboat, glancing aside several times to make sure the slavers didn't find their courage again. Once the boat was full, Tem warned them all to duck and hold tight, then slashed the pulley lines holding the lifeboat in place. The boat fell away, quickly getting left behind by the schooner. On the other side of the slaver ship, Asaf had done something similar, then cast a flight spell on himself and lifted off the deck. The first thing the aasimar did was fly by the other lifeboats, cutting the lines and causing them to fall into the sea.

Temperance held Forbearance to a section of rigging. The hempen ropes, coated with tar to protect against wet rot, almost immediately caught fire. He then planted the bastard sword in the deck, willing the flames to flare more fiercely, sending a jet of crimson fire into the hold below. With all that done, he summoned his wings and sprang into the air, taking care to cut away the last two lifeboats as he flew away. The slavers had finally responded right as Tem was pulling Forbearance out of the deck, but it was far too late. Above him, the mainmast's sails were beginning to burn as Asaf hurled a few firebolt cantrips at them. Once the aasimar saw Temperance rising into the air, he started heading back toward the Godray.

Tem glanced back as they flew, seeing the flames rapidly spread through the hull, rigging, and sails of the schooner. A few of the slavers were already leaping overboard in a desperate bid to catch the loose lifeboats. Those occupied by the escaped prisoners were being rowed in the direction of the Godray.

"Well. That went well, I'd say." Asaf said, a grim, humorless smile on his face.

"Says the man without any new holes in him." Tem complained.

The two of them looked ahead. The Godray was already locked in a boarding action with one schooner. The other was just starting to pull alongside the larger brig. Even from a distance, Tem could see the madness of motion as combat took place, primarily on the Godray's deck.

"Got anymore plans in mind?" Tem asked as they made a B-line for the stricken Godray.

"Indeed, I do." Asaf said, his shortsword fading, becoming a bracelet again, then reappearing the spear he apparently favored. "Kill slavers until they surrender."

"My kind of plan." Tem said. His preference would be to keep killing slavers even after they surrendered, and indeed, Ragathiel would not necessarily look down on such an action. He was not a forgiving god. Slavers were unconscionably evil, taking people and selling them like chattel. It was a dangerous path to walk down, however, deciding who got to surrender and who did not. It was a path the Crimson Templars walked every day, and was, perhaps, one of the reasons why their order was not large.

Temperance refocused as they drew near the Godray. He could worry about that after the battle was won. His intent was to fall among the reinforcements of the second schooner, which was locked in on the Godray's starboard side now. The Chelish were climbing up ropes and boarding nets. The embattled crew of the brig began diverting their attention from the lone schooner they had already been engaging on the portside. It was then, as he was preparing to dive into the fray, that he saw a mortal-made storm that could give the heavens a run for their money.

Captain Yifeng's nine-ring broadsword crackled with lighting as she dove headlong into the slavers boarding her ship, a swing of the weighted sword shearing the skull of one Chelishman in two. Thunder pealed as the blade struck home, blowing apart the victim's head as lightning sent spasms through the body. Her long coat flaring around her as she spun, Yifeng lashed out at another slaver that was stepping off the railing to fall to the deck, slicing into their waist, sending their guts flying with another thunderclap. A third slaver landed beside Yifeng, slashing at her head with a cutlass, but Yifeng blocked the attack. She reached out, her left hand clamping onto the slaver's throat, then with a backhanded and downward swipe, cut off her opponent's sword arm at the elbow. Yifeng reversed her sword, the rings clattering, then dragging the edge across her victim's belly to grisly results.

"THE STORM WILL TAKE YOU ALL!" Yifeng screamed as she released the eviscerated slaver.

Nearby, Kidist deflected a climbing enemy's cutlass with a buckler, then bonked them on the head with a belaying pin, sending them down to be crushed to paste between the two ships. Up near the helm, Maza held a short recurve bow, loosing an arrow that took a slaver in the throat as they mounted the rail.

"Go to the other side! I'll help here!" Tem said to Asaf, then turned in the air and darted along the side of the Godray. Tem's sword lashed out several times, cutting into ropes, and the slavers that were climbing them, sending them falling onto their comrades who were waiting below with more ropes and grapnels.

Temperance could sense he was nearing the end of the magic that gave him flight. Rather than push himself to squeeze extra time out of it, he banked and went over the rail of the Godray, landing beside Yifeng. The Captain was bleeding from a cut on one cheek, below her eyepatch. Her lower lip was swollen and had apparently been cut on one of her teeth. A rent in the front of her coat and the shirt beneath revealed what appeared to be a, thankfully, shallow wound in her abdomen.

There were a few moments of breathing room as the slavers had to throw up more grapnels and ropes. Yifeng's crew focused on trying to cut them with cutlasses and boarding axes.

"By Hei Feng's bottomless cask, you two weren't joking." Yifeng said, looking across the water at the third schooner, which was rapidly being consumed by flames.

"There are some freed slaves on lifeboats rowing this way. We'll have to pick them up once we've won." Tem informed her, wiping sweat, blood, and grime from his face with his sleeve.

Yifeng looked to Tem, her eye falling to the cauterized wound in his neck. She didn't say anything about it just yet. "I think we have this fight." The Captain said. "We'll be able to hold these devil fuckers at both rails well enough. There'll be losses, but thanks to you and Lord Asaf, I think we have it."

"Thanks to all your crew. And you." Tem insisted. "But, first we need to finish the fight before we start handing out credit to anyo-..."

A flash of unlight up near the Godray's bow. The stench of brimstone. The temperature aboard the Godray dropped and Tem's breath fogged before him, as he turned to see the reason.

The reason was seven feet tall, carrying a flanged mace, clad in baroque plate armor that exuded a constant cloud of mist in the hot, humid summer air. The thing had two ramlike horns jutting out from a fully encompassing sallet helm, through which Tem could see two baleful cyan lights that were unmistakably malevolent eyes.

Everyone stopped, even the slavers, at the sight of this thing. It held up its other hand, which was gripping the broken body of a figure in red and black robes emblazoned with the pentagram of Asmodeus.

"Arrogant mortal sought to command me." The beast rumbled, dropping the mangled corpse. "Know this, insects; Sehaton the Rimeblood, Warband leader of the legions of Cocytus, has come for your souls. The pain I bring you here will be sweet bliss compared to the suffering that awaits you in the realm of my Lord Balzebuul." It took up a second mace.

"Duke of Storms…", Yifeng swore.

"Stay focused on the slavers. This devil is mine." Tem said, walking towards the bow, keenly missing his plate armor. He recalled his training. This was exactly the sort of foe the Crimson Templars were formed to face.

"You're wounded…", Yifeng started to protest, but was forced to turn her attention and block an attack from a slaver that had snapped out of her fear induced torpor.

"By the holy flame of Ragathiel, the Five-Winged Knight, face me, devil!" Temperance yelled in his most commanding voice. "I name you the get of fallen angels, deceiver, and coward! Step forward and be purged, beast of Hell, cambion half-spawn!"

This creature was likely a half-devil, and a powerful one at that, but was no cambion. Cambions were formed from the union of a mortal and an incubus or succubus, which were demons of the Abyss. Based on the way the blue light behind Sehaton's helm became even bright and the chill in the air increased, Tem was sure his insult had the intended effect.

"A mongrel with the Shining Scourge's stench about you." Sehaton's voice was an inevitable seethe. "Come, then, bastard of Nurgal. I will enjoy this."

A bolt of lightning struck Sehaton in the chest, rocking the devil back. There was Asaf, approaching the devil at speed along the portside rail, his spear at the ready. Temperance saw this, picking up his pace along starboard. Sehaton unleashed a storm of icicles like grapeshot from an Alkenstar-forged cannon. Asaf raised his shield spell but not quite in time. He was peppered with a half-dozen razor sharp ice shards, blood welling across his body. The aasimar grit his teeth against the pain.

Temperance closed with the devil, raising his shield to block a pair of mace blows that jarred him to his core, almost numbing his left arm in an instant. Tem riposted with Forbearance, the holy sword overcoming the Hellish resistance all devils had to one degree or another. In spite of its icy form, Sehaton would normally be able to withstand fire as well. It was common for its kind. But, as there was nothing common about the scarlet, Heavenly flames of Ragathiel, Tem was rewarded with a rent being carved in the flank of Sehaton's armor.

A sudden blast of impossibly cold breath issued forth from Sehaton's helm, engulfing Temperance. The pain was immediate and debilitating, the tiefling barely able to bring his shield up to block the mace blow that would have ended his life. Something broke in Tem's forearm and the shield slipped from fingers that wouldn't respond as the tiefling was thrown back against the foremast. He kept a hold on Forbearance as he fell forward.

Temperance pushed himself up on the knuckles of his sword hand. Asaf assailed Sehaton before the devil could finish Tem off, the aasimar's spear darting in three times in rapid succession like a scorpion's sting. The devil managed to block the first two, but the third thrust found an opening, piercing Sehaton's breastplate. Mist was bleeding from the two holes in the devil's armor.

Tem got up, using the distraction caused by Asaf's attack to make one of his own. Sehaton managed to fend both of them off for several seconds, a series of clangs and showers of sparks as magic weapons struck each other over and over again. Tem studied Sehaton's movements closely, seeking an opening…

Asaf's spear was batted aside. Sehaton backhanded the aasimar with the fist the devil still held clenched around its right hand mace, which sent blood flying from the Pathfinder's mouth and running from his nostrils, spinning Asaf down to the deck.

Tem had it. Sehaton was very good at defending his torso, head, and legs, but not so much…

The left hand that felled Asaf meteored in with a mace swing. Tem ducked it, his broken arm throbbing in protest. He saw the right hand raise to follow up, the left ready to guard, and stabbed up through Sehaton's right bicep.

The devil's furious bellow carried far across the water. Forbearance became lodged in Sehaton's arm, so Temperance grabbed the mace as it fell from Sehaton's right hand, deflecting a clumsy attempt at a retaliation from the left.

Asaf's spear lanced into the devil's left knee, causing the limb to give way. Tem theb crashed the mace into the devil's right knee, which dropped the fiend to a limp kneel. It gave one last attempt at batting Asaf away, but the aasimar dodged easily and stabbed deep into Sehaton's shoulder. While this happened, Tem tossed the mace he'd stolen overboard and yanked Forbearance free from his opponent's arm.

Disarmed, disabled, and fuming, a great cloud of mist was curling away from the devil as it huffed ragged breaths.

"I…will not…be beaten…by…pathetic…mortals…!" Sehaton gasped.

Asaf's spear went through the devil's visor. Forbearance impaled it through the chest.

"When I find some pathetic mortals, I shall send them your way." Asaf quipped, withdrawing his spear.

Forbearance grated against metal as Temperance pulled it free. Sehaton pitched over on its back. The Hellish blue light of its eyes faded to nothing.

Tem extinguished Forbearance and planted the tip in the deck, leaning against it to stay standing. He looked back to see Yifeng and her sailors putting the last of the slavers to rout or to the sword. The Godray's crew was turning the tables now, boarding the enemy ships to hunt survivors. The choice on whether slavers lived or died was out of Tem's hands now, but the choice on whether or not to talk Yifeng and her people out of killing them was not.

"This victory is yours, General of Vengeance." Tem said, then looked over at his partner. "You're not bad in a fight, Halo."

Asaf was leaning back against the foremast. He spat blood from his mouth.

"I keep telling people that, yet they always seem surprised when it's true." The aasimar sighed, clearing both nostrils.

The two of them looked out, seeing the lifeboats of freed slaves rowing their way.

"We've done a good thing, I think." Asaf said quietly.

Tem nodded, his black eyes shifting from the lifeboats, to the floating inferno that was the third schooner, then down at the corpse of Sehaton.

"Aye." Tem agreed. "I think we have."

25th Sarenith, 4721 AR

Kintargo, Ravounel

The man in the Asmodean robes that Sehaton had killed had been a diabolist, a practitioner of the Chelaxian tradition of summoning and binding devils to service. He had also been the commodore in charge of all three slaving ships. Tem had heard his name, but didn't commit it to memory. The man didn't deserve to be remembered.

Upon storming the schooner that had boarded the Godray from starboard, the sailors had made the unfortunate discovery that the diabolist had sacrificed half his prisoners to power the summoning. Perhaps the man had been too hasty, or ten souls hadn't been enough, but whatever the case, the binding had failed and Sehaton had made the man pay for that with his life.

The Godray's crew had taken some losses, but it could have been much worse. Temperance and Asaf were practically worshipped by both the brig's crew and the freed prisoners, though the two of them were more focused on recovering from their injuries. A potion of healing could only do so much for an arm that was fractured in two places.

Yifeng turned into a mother hen almost the moment the battle ended, seeing to the freed prisoners and her wounded crew members. It took the combined effort and words of several crew members to convince her to sit down an accept treatment for her own injuries. Supplies to feed and cloth the escapees were pillaged from the two remaining schooners, along with anything of value, before they, too, were put to the torch. Tem didn't hear a single protest about losing out on the coin that could be earned through getting those ships to port and selling them. That didn't mean no one protested, but Tem certainly didn't hear it.

The Captain also tried to return the money Tem and Asaf had paid for the voyage. Both Pathfinders respectfully declined. They both took dinner with the Captain for the remaining nights of the voyage, and they were enjoyable nights, indeed.

A week later, the Godray was sailing into the harbor at Kintargo. The capital of Ravounel was an example of the imperious glory of Old Cheliax, from before the civil war that had seen the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune installed on the throne, diabolism becoming widespread, and the worship of Asmodeus being enforced by law. The grand city was split by the Yolubilis River, with about two-thirds of Kintargo being on the east bank, the rest on the west, and the clear water of Nisroch Bay to the north leading out into the wide expanse of the Arcadian Sea. The Domina's castle rose up on a great hill overlooking the Nisroch Bay and the entrance to the Yolubilis from a small peninsula on the west shore, its height matched only by the rise of Temple Hill in the heart of the city. Near the southern edge of the city, a massive, imposing bridge spanned the river to connect the two sections.

There were berths for ships on either side of the Yolubilis, but the majority appeared to be on the east bank. A harbor official who had conducted an inspection of the Godray brought the brig into the docks. The crew tied the Godray off. Many took off to go drinking and debauching out in the city the moment the vessel was docked. The sun was setting on Kintargo, silhouetting needle spires of marble and iron against a sullen red-orange sky.

Yifeng stood near the gangplank, watching her crew head off into the city. Some of the escaped prisoners followed, each given a share of the coin taken from the slaver schooners to help them start new lives. Others chose to remain on the Godray and replace the crew that had been lost in the fight. Temperance and Asaf, obviously, would not be joining either of those groups.

Temperance wore his full half-plate, his sword and shield on his back. Behind him, Asaf was saying something with a suggestive expression, making the first mate cackle with delight. Whether it was in positive response to what Asaf was saying, or because she found his attempt at flirting hilarious, was anyone's guess.

"Don't suppose you're tired of hearing me thank you for your help?" Yifeng asked with a tired smile. Her lip was still swollen and scabbed, but it looked better than it had a few days ago.

"Long as you're not tired of hearing me tell you that it was no trouble." Tem answered. His left arm was still weak and sore, even after a potion of healing and a week of rest. They would need to go to Temple Hill for full healing before pursuing whatever goals they had here in Kintargo.

"If that's your definition of 'no trouble', then fuck me if I ever have to see what is troubling to you." Yifeng scoffed.

Tem chuckled, nodding but not saying anything.

Asaf broke the silence, passing by Yifeng and saying, "Captain Valonqar, your company was a great pleasure during this voyage. You have my utmost thanks for providing us passage, and I hope our paths will cross again."

The two of them shook hands, Yifeng replying, "rest assured, you'll be welcome on the Godray if that happens. Best of luck to both of you, wherever you go from here."

"And to you, Captain. And to you." Asaf said, then proceeded down the gangplank.

Temperance held his good hand out to Yifeng, who grasped it for a moment, then pulled the big tiefling in to a hug. Tem felt warmth in his chest as he put his arm around her back.

"And you, Sir, will always have a friend on this ship, as long as I'm Captain." Yifeng said quietly. "Though, the next bottle of wine is on me."

Tem gave Yifeng a pat on the back, then put a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her from arm's length. "May Ragathiel watch over your battles, Yifeng."

Yifeng lightly knocked her knuckles against Tem's breastplate. "And may the Duke of Storms keep your glass full, Tem."

With that, Tem gave her a goodbye wave and followed after Asaf.

"Need to find a ferry to the west shore. Don't feel like walking all the way to the bridge." Tem muttered.

"Agreed. Then it shall be a matter of finding some lodging." Asaf said, "Pathfinder business can wait until tomorrow, I think."

"Fine by me." Temperance said.

The two of them started walking down the dock.

"Kidist seemed to like you." Tem said conversationally.

"Indeed. She made pleasant conversation, but that was the long and the short of it." Asaf grinned and shrugged. "Her attraction has already been claimed by Purity, though I suspect Purity herself does not know it yet."

Purity was the name of the former Sister of the Golden Erinyes, the tiefling who was one of the escapees that signed on with the Godray's crew.

"I see." Tem said, smiling. He hoped it would work out. He didn't really know either of them, but there was enough pain in the world. Though few would argue that the slavers got any less than they deserved, their removal was still a matter of more blood, more violence, more pain. If something good, something joyful, could come out of that battle…well, that was the real reason Temperance did what he did. First as a Crusader, now as a Pathfinder, first as a Deliverer dedicated to Ragathiel, now as a Crimson Templar, there were battles that needed to be fought. As admirable of an idea as pacifism was, no demon of the Abyss would acknowledge it, no Chelaxian slaver would care about it.

Someone had to shed the blood of, respond with violence against, inflict pain upon those who would take advantage of the peaceful, the joyful, the good. It was the grim reality of Golarion. For as long as Tem was able to wield Forbearance, he would be that someone with a willing heart.

Dramatis Personae

Name: Yifeng Valonqar

Race: Half-elf (Aquatic Elf)

Class: Swashbuckler

Prestige Class: Gray Corsair