Not, as you might suspect, a haven for fishing enthusiasts, but a small island where we find oursevles committing more genocide, this time against a race of "sea devils". What can I say? The islanders paid well.

You may recall that "inept" was a word I used very frequently at the start of our adventures on the Isle Of Dread. You may even have noticed that it did not appear in the last few chapters, nor did any other word of similar meaning. This is because I felt no need to pass judgement on our foolishness. Although it is anathema to me I have to say that sometimes the actions do speak louder than the words.

So I would ask you to keep fresh in your mind the incident of Raven putting on the obviously cursed bracers that precipitated this whole section of my tale. Or the boys venturing into the tower of a powerful necromancer. Or us deciding to track a hydra that we were clearly incapable of killing back to its lair. Keep all of these events in mind as I retell the story of rescuing the Sea Elf.

It was a rough night at sea. Stormy is a little too dramatic, but the seas were certainly heaving when the lookout spotted a solitary figure swimming towards our ship in the churning waters while being eagerly pursued by some sharks.

Enter the heroes, stage left. Cue bold, brave, suicidal Pernicus, fully armed and armoured, striding manfully into our launch, safely tethered to the side of our ship, some fifteen feet above the pounding ocean. Try to imagine staring over the side of ship on a cold dark night into the heaving and frothing waters of a void of sea swirling fifteen feet below you. Hold that thought. It's quite chilling really.

Cue bold, brave, suicidal Cruath, fully armed and armoured, also striding manfully into the launch having never been to sea in his life and barely able to swim. Keep thinking about that dizzying fifteen feet drop into a seemingly endless gloom of water.

Lowering the launch was clearly going to be a risky affair in such conditions. Our crew were able but not very experienced. Even a crew made up of old sea dogs who had spent their lives sailing the treacherous seas of the world, and who felt uncomfortable with solid feet under their feet, would have struggled to lower the launch safely.

Pernicus obviously knew this so rather that risking lowering the launch he cut the ropes, plunging the tiny, fragile launch fifteen feet into a violent ocean. Exit the "heroes", stage right.

No, you didn't misread that last paragraph. I'll pause while you go back and check if what you thought you read matches with what I actually wrote. It usually does take people a moment or two to register those words.

You've had plenty of time to keep that fifteen foot drop in your mind. Now imagine a small launch plummeting through this with two fully armed and armoured figures in it. Standing.

The last thing we saw before Pernicus and Cruath vanished beneath the black waters was a shark fin heading their way and Pernicus' precious magical falchion glinting briefly as it sunk to a watery tomb.

Gwydion, Festus and I rapidly begun casting weighted ropes into the seas in the hope of saving Pernicus and Cruath. So much for rescuing the Sea Elf. From having to rescue one person from the waters and the sharks we now had to rescue three. Fortunately one of them, the person that we had been trying to rescue from the outset, could actually swim. Our ropes that were originally intended for the poor Sea Elf where now diverted to more pressing needs: the recovery of our reckless and brainless colleagues. I believe that I briefly saw Cruath's arm reach for one of the ropes and it was clear that Pernicus was fighting the water because of the sheer amount of noise he was making. To our horror we saw the water around them begin to turn a sickly red as the shark swept through the ocean. We could see no more arms. We could feel no pressure on the rope. We could see blood and we could see the trashing as bodies as they fought the bottomless depths and the attacking shark.

And then....the miracle. Mighty Pernicus somehow defeats the waters trying to drag him to the same tomb as his falchion. He somehow ignores the terrible bites of the shark (mainly because the shark was busy eating Cruath) and hauls himself, with a ferociously determined gaze and teeth clenched, onto the launch. Truly a miracle?

Actually, no. He has barely time to get into the launch before the shark rammed it from underneath, shattering it to splinters and nails and plunging Pernicus straight back into the water. Despite the obvious danger I would swear that I heard some of the ship's crew laughing.

While this was taking place Raven's efforts to shoot the shark attacking the swimmer with his bow were coming to naught and the swimmer was unable to get to the rope he had thrown. It was becoming clear that we would not be able to rescue anybody from the waters until we had removed the threat of the sharks.

We may be a little slow but we always get there.

Our salvation now lay in harpoons. If we could harpoon the sharks we could haul them out of the sea and rescue our comrades and the swimmer.

Festus and Raven thus armed themselves with harpoons and steadied their aim, tensely waiting for the right moment to throw.

Or rather Festus steadied his aim. Raven chose to jump overboard and tried to land on his shark. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What were these maniacs trying to prove?

I apologise - I slipped briefly out of my storyteller role. You may marvel at the sheer stupidity of our actions but you have to admit it makes for a great story!

Fate was smiling on us that day. I would have easily understood if it had presented its "I've given you plenty of breaks but you still keep pushing me" face. As it was Raven somehow managed to actually land on the back of the shark and embed his harpoon deep into its flesh. Festus was similarly successful with his harpoon and with the crew straining for all they were worth we soon had two floundering sharks and one triumphant Raven on the deck.

With the sharks dealt with we were quickly able to retrieve Pernicus and Cruath from their watery doom. Cruath had been terribly mauled by the shark but was not beyond my meagre healing powers. Pernicus, incredibly, was virtually untouched. Indeed, he had somehow delivered a couple of nasty blows to the shark. He seemed rather amused at the whole affair and even today I marvel at the man's fearlessness.

The close to the story is a little anti-climatic. The swimmer was a Sea Elf who was on her way to deliver a message when the sharks sighted her. I think we were hoping for an epiphany after the whole episode - possibly some obscure rumour about a greater, blacker pearl. Instead she muttered some total gibberish about "the stone that abides" and the "throne of teeth", which even Cruath couldn't make any sense of, before continuing on her way. Her parting shot, and I think I agree with her, was expressing some surprise that we'd actually been able to save her. She remarked that she couldn’t quite believe that hadn’t lost half our numbers in doing so.

Why, I asked myself, do we even bother?

Our arrival at Angler Island was almost as dramatic, if slightly less comical, than our "saving" of the Sea Elf. Our ship was met by a ten strong detachment of town militia lead by the daughter of the Potentate that ruled the island. Either they always take this precaution when "greeting" new arrivals or they knew that Pernicus was onboard.

However, before we had time to even exchange greetings, a huge group of sea devils that had used our docking ship as cover to enter the harbour, leapt out of the sea and began trying to kill everyone and everything that quite obviously hadn't leapt out of the sea. This included us.

I feel I should point out that they weren't actually devils, otherwise my soul would doing endless press-ups at the whim of some demonic overlord in one of the lower planes, instead of inhabiting my body today and trying to breathe some life into my memories. It seems that the people who lived on these islands lacked imaginative vocabulary when describing their foes and they were either "green and blue skins" or "sea devils".

The sea devils weren't particularly polished fighters and we soon managed to deal with them. Unfortunately the town militia were even less polished and some of their number were killed before they wisely fled. Their leader was one of the felled number but we were able to save her. Any adventurer worthy of carrying a 50 foot piece of rope will tell you that saving the daughter of the local ruler is always a good thing.

Thus we arrived creating the best of impressions with the Potentate who offered us a handsome reward if we could rid Angler Island of the "sea devil plague". It appeared as if the indiscriminate wiping out of species was becoming our speciality.

From a storytelling perspective this is a great opener. Unfortunately it goes downhill very rapidly, degenerating into a tiresome pattern: walk through some caverns, kill everything we meet, rest a bit, walk through some more caverns and kill everything again. I'm sure you get the idea. This is a shame because the story has some great elements. For one thing the sea devils could control sharks, which made our task all the more difficult, although you can't really blame them for wanting to fight back against genocide (curse my young pupil and his comfortable morals!). Also, it all takes place underwater.

From a personal point of you it was one of the most memorable stories. We were given magical potions that enabled us to breathe underwater, but we obviously still moved like people underwater. Everything was so slowed and so dark, and sound was incredibly distorted. Something that was miles away could sound as if it was occurring right next to you. The whole experience was extremely disorientating, made more so by the fact that we had managed to secure a ring of airy water from the Potentate which enabled Pernicus, who was wearing it, to charge around underwater as if on solid land. So while the rest of us were struggling to cope with the sensation of breathing water and fighting the incredible press of water, Pernicus was still whizzing around like a lunatic trying to kill everything. It certainly was one of our most bizarre experiences.

My erstwhile pupil has convinced me that describing our exploits on Angler Island as nothing more than walking through underwater caverns killing sea devils does not make for a good story. I couldn't agree more, but unfortunately the story is little more than that. It was claustrophobic and it was harrowing, but it isn't much of a story.

Most memorable was the instance where we were convinced that we were going to die down in the caverns. On this particular occasion we had discovered a secret door that we were convinced would lead to some kind of storeroom where the sea devils might have hidden their valuables. Once again, as I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear, money was our main incentive for enduring the oppression of the underwater caverns. The Potentate paid well but we were still hoping for some additional loot from the sea devils. However, as we quickly discovered, the sea devils were a simple and impoverished race. We had found nothing of any value at all and the presence of a secret door made us believe that found the location of their valuables.

Unfortunately we couldn't have been more wrong because hidden behind the door were twelve sea devils and two sharks. The sharks, as you may recollect me mentioning earlier, being under control of the creatures. They set upon us with considerable force, for which I can't really blame them. We had recently passed a small sloping cavern with a sandy beach that was actually above the water. Our only salvation lay in retreating to the beach where we would at least be safe from the sharks. Unfortunately our progress back required crawling our way through the water while both the sharks and the sea devils were in their natural environment. Our fighting withdrawal was slow, painful and bloody. The sea devils were fiendishly clever fighters. They kept out of melee range and maintained a heavy rate of crossbow fire while they sent the sharks to engage us in hand-to-hand. We were just overwhelmed.

By the time we made it to the relative safety of the small cavern that was above water we were all close to death. We had been severely mauled by the sharks, which were driven into a frenzy by the blood soaked waters, and we had all been badly injured by the sea devils missile fire. We had managed to kill the two sharks and many of the sea devils in our fighting withdrawal, but four still remaining in the water outside of our little sanctuary. And it was little, I can't really emphasise that enough. We were standing as close as possible to together and there was absolutely no room to sit down. We needed to rest and heal up, but with no room to light a fire and with nowhere to sit, resting was not an option. We were dripping wet (except Pernicus that is, thanks to his ring), we were freezing cold, we had hardly any light to see by, we were panicked and claustrophobic standing huddled together in the tiny cavern, we were exhausted, we were bleeding, we were in almost unbearable pain, we needed to rest and we were three hundred feet below the surface. Outside of our cavern four sea devils were waiting for us and they wanted only to finish what they had started. Or rather they wanted only to finish what we had started, as my erstwhile scribe is quick to point out.

I can honestly say that none of us really cared whether we lived or died at that moment. We were physically and mentally shattered and death would have been a welcome release. Such desperation breeds desperate plans and we agreed that our only option was to charge out of the cavern and try to overwhelm the sea devils in melee before their crossbows could finish us off. It was a truly desperate plan and each individual was certain that not all of us would survive such a desperate act. However, none of us were prepared to admit that they believed this. The only way we were all going to be able to charge from the cavern was if we maintained the collective illusion that we were all going to survive. We had to pretend to believe that everything was going to be all right, even if deep down we were certain that not all of us would survive. It was a nervous moment and we all avoided making eye contact with each other.

Pernicus, Raven and Gwydion led the charge with Cruath, Festus and myself bringing up behind. It was the strangest of sensations as we dove into the water and struggled to get to the sea devils as quickly as we could. Just before we left the safety of the cavern my heart was racing so fast that I felt as if I couldn't breathe. My throat went dry and I could not swallow. Inhaling seemed impossible and I felt as if my chest would burst. But as we broke cover the strangest sense of calm came over me. It was as my fate was already decided, and whatever my fate might be the fact that it felt decided brought me a serene sensation of peace.

Everything that happened unfolded an inexorable and majestic pace. I felt as if I was an observer. The quarrel that pierced my shoulder actually wounded someone that wasn't me. The aim I tried to take between the bodies of Pernicus and Gwydion as they hacked at the beasts was steadied by someone else's arm. Even the Raven that dispatched one of the sea devils with a mighty blow was not the Raven that I knew and had been travelling with.

This sensation seemed to last a lifetime. Then I realised that we were all alive and had killed the sea devils. Reality came rushing back with a deafening roar in my ears and I think I must have sobbed out loud as the air crashed back into my lungs. We were alive. All of us.

It was a miracle.

Well, it felt like a miracle at the time. Obviously it wasn't a miracle. Fate, or divine providence, or good luck, or whatever you want to call - something was going right for us at that moment and everything fell into place. Part of me wants to antagonise by opinionated student by suggesting that our presence in the caverns must have been morally right because some "thing" spared all of our lives that day in the face of staggering odds. But I am loathe to moralise in my tales so I shall spare him that assertion, tempting though it is. I'll leave my readers to name the nameless thing that smiled on us in those caverns, and close by saying that I've found it hard to not be superstitious ever since that day.

We eventually emerged from the caverns having failed in our efforts to destroy the sea devils, but with a clear understanding of what they were trying to achieve. It appeared that the earthquake had unearthed an ancient statue that contained some kind of power for them. When the islanders got too close to finding the statue before the sea devils, the creatures attacked the islanders. It was perfectly obvious that there were more sea devils than we could possibly account for, and that as long as the statue remained exposed the island was a risk. Either the sea devils would find the statue first, or the islanders. If the sea devils did get hold of the statue it was not clear whether this would be the end of the attacks on the islanders or the start of a new and bigger threat.

Still, it was all a moot point because guess who got their hands on the statue first?

We had had to defeat the leader of the sea devils in order to do so - a huge four armed monster that was easily the match for us. Alas, we only managed to defeat him rather than kill him, but this meant him having to abandon his plans to retrieve the statue. This, as I'm sure you can understand, made him extremely angry - a quality noticeable in many leaders - and he vowed to return with an army to claim the statue back from us.

So our exploits on Angler Island ended much the same way they had begun: with a big fight.

We took the statue back to the Potentate and explained that a sea devil army was on its way to her fair town in order to relieve us of the statue. This understandably sent her into a panic and we were able to negotiate an extremely good rate for the removal of the statue from the island and our services against the sea devil army. All-in-all I think we left Angler Island a lot wealthier than we had left the Isle Of Dread.

My student has just spat the word "mercenaries" at me. He really doesn't understand. Of course we were mercenaries. That's what we wanted to be. Sometimes I just do not understand the young. Or perhaps they just don't understand me?

We were fairly sure the sea devil army would attack at night so we had a day to prepare. We managed to herd the villagers into the Potentate's residency and barricaded them in with all of the town's militia. We chose to fortify ourselves in the temple of Pellor with the clerics and paladins who lived there because it has an excellent field of fire over the docks, where we confident the attack would originate from.

The sea devils may have been formidable and adroit fighters under the water but on land they were a lot less effective. It was almost as if their reduced mobility had a detrimental effect on their tactics. They had overwhelming numbers, probably almost 100, and chose to launch a frontal assault on the temple and the Potentate's residency. There was no finesse in their tactics and very little skill. Pernicus had a theory that we had so enraged their leader when we defeated him that he was no longer thinking clearly. He believed that the sea devil leader wanted the statue and wanted revenge for his defeat at our hands, and this had clouded his judgement.

Speaking of revenge, Pernicus was also looking for some. I think he was hoping to engage the sea devil leader in single combat to satisfy his own revenge, and although it wasn't the sea devil leader who was responsible for Pernicus' misfortune he needed a tangible target because the singing rock that had harmed him was safe from his wrath.

Singing rock is something of a misnomer but it has a certain dramatic impact. The creature that had harmed Pernicus was some kind of psionic entity that looked, to all intents and purposes, to be a rock. It projected the most beautiful music into our minds in order to lure us to the shaft where it lay at the bottom, waiting to drain our life forces. I tried to negate its influence with my music, but the music that the creature was projecting was just too beautiful, and only Raven and Cruath (heathens that they are!) were able to resist its influence. Between them they were able to prevent most of us from looking down the shaft and helped us break the creature's thrall. Once I was free of its influence I was able to work a tune that would override the effects of its mind powers. Unfortunately before I could do this Pernicus was able to break free from Raven and Cruath, his ring of airy water giving him a clear advantage over them, and he looked into the shaft. A bolt of green energy engulfed him and, very much like Festus looked when he found the button that opened the necromancers' tower on the Isle Of Dread, Pernicus looked as if the very life was being drained out of him. As soon as my music took effect we were able to free Pernicus from the bolt. It was a weakened and disorientated Pernicus who returned to the surface. Where we had had the Zombie Master in Raven's village to restore Festus' life force, the clerics of Pellor had no such skills and it was a pallid and weak Pernicus who stood waiting for the sea devil army to attack the town.

His theory about their lack of tactics could well have been the case and their foolishness certainly played into our hands. It was a massacre. There was no glory and no heroics, or indeed any need for heroics. Safely fortified inside the church our missile fire was devastating on their massed ranks as they stormed the town from the docks. They fell in droves and those that did manage to get to the door of the church were easily dealt with before they could breach our defences. Even their crossbow fire could hardly penetrate our prepared defences and by the time they fled back to the water they left at least three quarters of their number dead and just one or two of us slightly injured. It was wholesale slaughter and the sheer stupidity of their assault staggered all of us who had witnessed it. We simply couldn't believe that they had been so suicidal.

But it has been a good night's work. Angler Island was now saved from the sea devil peril. There were so few of them left alive that they no longer posed any threat. The worshippers of Pellor and the town militia could easily take care of the remaining number should they attack again, and our departure the following morning with the statue that they had been looking for decreased the likelihood that they would ever bother the islanders again.

We bade a fond farewell to the Potentate, or rather most of us did. Cruath and Festus had managed to offend quite a few people on the island with their "unusual" manners and forthrightness. Nevertheless, everyone was in a buoyant mood because we had freed them from the attentions of the sea devils. At the time I remember thinking that I would have liked to see the Potentate again, but I had to admit to myself that it was unlikely. I imagined my new life as an ocean-bound adventurer taking me to all kinds of wondrous places, but somehow I never imagined it taking me back to the same place twice. Except for home.

And that was all I was really thinking about while we waved farewell to the islanders as our ship slowly left the dock: we were heading back to Parma. We were returning to place my heart had yearned for so many times during our adventures on the Isle Of Dread and in the underwater caverns of Angler Island. In a couple of weeks we would be walking through its narrow alleyways and over its hundreds of bridges. Soon I would be drinking and singing in one of the smoky dockside taverns to a sophisticated and enthusiastic audience. It already tasted so sweet.

At last I was going home.