Freedom in Shadows – Adventurers Unravel a Slave Trade: Part 2
A bard’s tale of freeing slaves turns into a hunt to find those responsible
Kibbolt’s adventure hits a heartbreaking turn, as his party uncovers a shocking slave trading ring. Join us today as the bard and his party duke it out with a team of expert kidnappers so they may free the women and children they’ve taken from their homes.
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Freedom in Shadows – Adventurers Unravel a Slave Trade: Part 2
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Reality sank harder than a mighty galleon. The mere idea of an ongoing slave trade would twist the stomachs of any noble person. As for the adventurers, their minds couldn’t help but race with a myriad of questions: who are these people underground? How’d they get there? Who the hell is responsible and who are the buyers? Quinn and Logan both have a vengeful fist tightened, aching to clobber these kidnappers.
Alas, Kibbolt offers a glimmering hope of doubt with this theory. “It doesn’t have to be, right…? What if they’re all just caved in?”
Quin relaxed, and offered a sigh, “Halfling, I pray you’re right. Regardless, we must hurry.”
Aris carefully instructed her hound down the treacherous cliffside. The uneven rocky terrain was strenuous to the ankles and tendons. They took their time, not only because one major slip could spell a humiliating end for any one of them, but also because of Kyber’s nose. No matter how keen, he required more consideration to find a path towards whatever cave they may lie in. Thankfully he was seasoned enough to recall the moist odor of caverns, adding it as a variable for his mission.
The adventurers first appeared to draw further away from their target location, but after some twists and turns between slender trees and across rough dirt patches, met with an abundance of foliage, the hound stumbled its nose upon a suspicious plot before a tree. He attempted to dig, but the moment his paws swiped the grass and dirt, a compacted slab slipped off like a small rug, revealing an estranged wooden hatch.
For the first time, Kibbolt was lost for words, as his theory no longer appears to hold water. The grim reality of the evils of mortal kind could no longer be denied – they were human traffickers, and these upstart adventurers had a duty to save these poor victims.
“Now what?” Aris questioned.
Quinn searched in his pouch for a small iron case. It contained a set of lockpicking tools, which he applied to the lock of the hatch. “I’m going in first to scout ahead. I’ll come back when the entryway is clear.”
“You sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Manning asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassured as he fiddled with the lock. His dexterous hands caused a soft click. Before he lifted the hatch open, he chanted a whispering incantation. The light around his form shimmered, and slowly he vanished – leathers, fur and all. “Wait right here,” he added as the tiger’s face was in mid-transition. The hatch opened on its own, and then closed.
Anxiety and butterflies struck the guts of the party in an aggravating wait. The itch to barge in was a powerful temptation. After some time in grueling anticipation, the hatch opened once more. “Come, quickly and quietly,” Quinn’s voice echoed.
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The secret hideout lied at the bottom of a stone staircase, dimly lit with a few sconces on the walls. At the bottom a hallway split towards the left, and ahead of them was a room with a card table, a game interrupted by the sneaky wizard evident by the two unconscious human bodies now lying against the wall. They made an effort to quiet their footsteps as they proceeded downward. The tunnels echoed of soft weeping of the victims, and mocking calls of two distinct male voices. The group froze when one of the voices called out, “hey, where’d Bjorn and Ivan run off to?”
“They’re probably fellatin’ each other up top,” another voice answered, one more rugged. “Go check on ‘em.” Logan stepped forward immediately, and finished the flight of stairs.
“With all these beautiful ladies here? Hah. If I told ‘em you said that they’ll probably slit you when you’re napping.” The bandit turned the corner towards the staircase. He barely had time to react to the large armored man before him, only to cry “INTRU–”. An iron grip shackled his throat, abruptly interrupting his warning. Logan lifted him with the strength of a bear, and slammed the hooded bandit as the back of the head crashed into the bottom stair step – a concussive blow that he might not wake up from.
“Hrm?” the same distant voice called, “What’s going on there? Hello?” The shadows on the wall started to move. They knew confrontation was inevitable. Logan took the initiative going first. Aris, with her hound, and Quinn followed close behind. The guard stood at the other end of the hallway when he spotted the intruders. With enough time and distance, the orc drew his blade and shouted, “Everyone get yer asses up! We got company!” He charged full force at Logan, taking advantage of the cramped space as the armored man had no room to swing his massive zweihander. However, the armor’s strength alone was enough to catch the blade with no more than a dent. Logan countered with a punch using his gauntlet that grazed the man’s cheek.
“Kyber, go!” she pointed down the hallway, commanding her hound. The hound rushed like a lightning bolt, and turned the sharp corner into the sleeping quarters. Aris lagged behind – the orc had no opportunity to stop her thanks to the warrior. Three of the bandits were lying in bed. Disoriented, they rose from the sudden alarm of their companion. It was too late for one of them as Kyber lunged and pinned a bandit onto the bed. He aimed for a kill shot for the man’s neck, but his teeth caught a wrist, digging into him like a dozen daggers. The man reeled as his blood painted the haybed and the walls, struggling to shake the hound off him.
One of the bandits rose and ran forward with a spear at the hound. Kyber’s instincts were sharp, saving himself from a fatal heart blow as he let go of his victim. The tip pierced his shoulder blade, and his retreat turned the wound into a wide laceration. The hound was seasoned, familiar with this level of pain as to not whine. Suddenly, an arrow wisped across the room and shanked the spear wielder right into the neck with perfect accuracy, causing him to collapse in a bloody gurgle. Aris lowered her bow as the third one in the room made a charge for her, preparing a dagger to meet him.
Suddenly, Quinn shouted a warning, “huntress!” he charged a spell in the tip of his two fingers as his form shimmered back into existence. As she stepped aside from the entryway, a circle formed right next to her foot. The third bandit charged sword in hand, and stepped onto the freshly summoned arcane trap. A storm of lightning surged in a violent explosion, rendering the bastard into a charred corpse decorated in light embers.
While the hound returned to mauling the last remaining bandit in their resting quarters, Logan and the remaining kidnapper danced a mighty fight. Even with the orchish strength, the bandit’s blade barely made any headway with the armor, yet Logan wasn’t dexterous enough to land a satisfying blow – a tough stalemate. Then, his brother summoned a golden light in his hand, and extended his palm forward aiming at the captor, “Blinding Radiance!” he shouted. The light burned with the eye searing brightness of the sun. The orc stumbled, and Logan, with his back turned to his brother, landed two perfect blows across the man’s face in quick succession – one across the cheek, and another against the jaw. With a smooth, added motion, he wrapped an arm around the man, and lifted him up into the air. A knee posed underneath, and he slammed the kidnapper’s back right onto the armored pad. Even through the leathers, the entire room heard the loud pop of his spine.
Kibbolt stood in awe at the spectacle, recording everything into his heart of these brilliant adventurers. Even with the little adventuring experience they have, Logan, Aris, and Manning had the coordination of seasoned veterans – and he certainly has many curiosities about Quinn.
The women and the children saw it all unfold from behind bars – the duel between the bandit and the warrior, the blur of the hound, and the swift, expert dispatching of their kidnappers. Tears formed as the smiles they thought were lost forever returned. Manning came forth with an iron key and addressed them, “we’re going to get you all out of here. Is anyone hurt?” He looked around. They were all of human and elven lineage, left disheveled, dirtied and bruised in tattered clothing. Some had a few lashes across their legs, shackled in rusty cuffs, and some were stripped to their undergarments. It was a horrid sight for the priest especially; his youthful eyes and virgin heart now stained as a witness to this evil. He gripped the holy symbol strapped to his necklace and exhaled a silent prayer as he opened the cage.
Kibbolt followed, and Aris too once she cleansed the wound of her faithful companion. “What an awful sight,” Kibbolt shook his head as Manning tended to their wounds. The elf looked at him with a mild reaction of pleasant surprise, as the prejudice both halflings and bards tend to have was defeated. Kibbolt, upon reflection, would later be equally astounded of himself in spite of his lecherous past.
“I can’t imagine what these girls have gone through. I’d love to plant an arrow in every bastard responsible.”
Kibbolt conjured a scathing poem inspired by the scene before him. “Twist and turn each one until they croak. May their tears soak the elven steel tips, and let their weeping spill and cleanse the river of blood.”
Manning laid his healing hand on the first prisoner, and began with a prayer aimed towards all of them, “You all walked through darkness, yet the lanterns of life still burn. The Lady of Light sees your trials and tribulations, and her heart is eternally moved by your strength and courage. For this, not only shall you be made whole again, she will bless you, and you will reap a bountiful harvest greater than you can imagine.” One by one did the light goddess invoke her divine might through her loyal and caring servant. She soothed their pains and cleansed their wounds. Her warmth was a beacon of hope for all the women and children. Even the fresh scars caused by a branding iron were removed, erasing the logo of a blood drop encompassed by a circle from their legs. However, whatever wretched experiences were burned into their memories may only be temporarily relieved, for it is their burden alone to overcome. At least, that’s something Kibbolt could distract them from, as he strummed a tune with his hurdy gurdy – a solemn tone fit for the mood, cranking the lever with a lethargic tempo as he let his instrument do all the talking.
Kyber walked in the cell. Who was once a menace in the theatre of battle, the wolf-hound presented a contrary vibe as he walked up to the sitting children. They were cautious at first, but after reassurance by the huntress, he treated them to a few ticklish lashes of his tongue before curling up next to them, allowing their gentle hands to run over his furs.
With hints of the mood lightening up, the bard expertly shifted his tune. Inspiring and joyous, a tempestuous reward for all the strife they endured. However, as he adapted his rhythm, a loud blood-curling scream echoed from across the hallway, sparking a sharp, abrupt chord. Their heads all turned towards the source of the noise, eyeing the two shadows of Quinn and Logan. Manning stood up, complete with his works. “Keep them entertained. I’ll check in on them.”
The priest walked away, and called out to the others, “the girl we’re looking for is here. What’s with all the commotion?” Turning a corner, he saw the two in charge of overlooked the surviving outlaws bound taut in ropes: the two Quinn knocked out, and the orc with the broken back. The cause of the reeling pain was from one of the awakened. Manning’s eyes widened at the gruesome scene. Bone and muscles of the human’s left arm were vulnerable to the air. “Do not make me repeat my question,” Quinn warned, his hand glowing with a violent prismarine hue. “Who are you delivering these hostages to?” Logan simply stood with his arms folded, and the two remaining bandits shook in fear, their own screams and pleads muffled by a band of cloth restraining their mouths.
In a panic, he begged, “I don’t know I don’t know I don’t kn – Ahhh!” The pain surged as Quinn activated his transmutation magic. More of the man’s flesh and muscles peeled away in the hungry aquatic radiance of his arcana, converting the tissue into a cloud of red mist. The pain was agonizing, as every nerve was stripped away into the air. The cruel wizard offered no chance of redemption until he stopped when the entire arm was rendered down to the bone.
“Logan, bind his mouth.” Without a word, he complied, and forced a rag around his mouth like the others. Quinn’s vicious eyes turned to the other bound men, searing in a vicious fear into their souls.
Manning approached the injured man as he bled profusely from the opening of his shoulder. He knelt down to his level. With eyes locked onto the suffering bandit, he appeared as a symbol of hope for his wretched life, one who possibly could redeem him for his sins. But deep within his eyes lied a vengeful spirit, revealed when he echoed a cold voice, “Torment is the reward to those who aggrieve the little ones – Penances 12:14.” His hand glowed a holy light, and it touched the gaping wound. His muffled cries screamed louder as the light burned, charring the flesh and cauterizing the injury. “You shall be properly judged after we get the answers we seek.”
It took no time afterwards to acquire the information Quinn sought for. No matter how insidious a man may be, they’d never be bold or foolish enough to face the wrath of the mage’s arcane torture. The client for these captured slaves were destined for Noraline, a city deep within the western kingdom of Heimdal. There, they were to meet with one of the most notorious and feared slave traders, Baron Ruthchester, a wealthy noble with a heart as cold as steel. A slave brought to him knew no hope, peace, nor rest. Even the rumors of the violent, lascivious acts they allegedly suffered through were said to pale in comparison to the harsh truth. Sadly, few knew of the existence of such an underground crime scene, except for Quinn and Kibbolt.
The victims were eternally grateful for their restored freedom. The adventurers escorted them all out of the well, treating them with spare clothing to protect them from the elements, and with fresh nourishment. The journey back to Mornhaul was long and arduous, and required a lot of attention to transverse the rough terrain. Eventually they made it back some hours before dusk. The daughter reunited with her parents in a tearful reunion. Thankfully no one else from this village went missing. As for the rest of the remaining victims, they were taken straight out of Eskanore – either kidnapped from the streets or taken from bars or lavish parties.
Evening came over them all and the adventurers celebrated their victory with a large dinner, treated as family by both the parents and the villagers. The former slaves still had turmoil in their hearts after all they’ve experienced, but they’re able to rest easy, as the worst of their nightmares are now behind them.
As for the adventurers, they have become emboldened to pursue the bottom of this wretched hole – no innocent person should have to face such a vile fate.
Thank you for reading! Let us know what you think of this short series in the comments below!
Incredible story telling for this series (which I hope continues as the band tries to track down the higher ups in the human trafficking system). Will the baron be on a secluded island perhaps? I think the framing of the orcs doing the dirty work and funneling the victims to the city overseers is very compelling. It goes beyond the surface level of much fantasy like Goblin Slayer, which I love as well for its own merits. The reader sees an entire wicked ecosystem at play here.