Karma Kollapse
First Post
GM's Note:
Unfortately after the two sessions this write-up covers, the guy who played Murdoch had to drop from the group as he was struggling with commitments and multiple late nights; likewise, the guy who played Vash (who was absent for most of this adventure) also decided to call it a day to focus on his nursing career since that was increasingly taking up more of his time. We have a couple of new players joining us in just over a week, so hopefully they'll enjoy it and have time to play and our little group can stop changing players!
The players couldn't get their head around the idea of a 25ft high stage, btw. I don't know if the intention was for it to be very tall, but I had a very difficult time convincing them it was perfectly normal >.>
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Adventure #2 - The Dying Skyseer
"Flayed Panthers and Frying Pans"
The party set off to Nevard Secombes much anticipated prophecy making performance art event. They arrived to find the venue packed with Flints citizens, mostly from the poorer areas of the city, who were eager to hear some good news and see a good show . The square hosting the event was dominated by a huge stage, over 25 feet high, on which various druids and magic users were preparing spells to amplify the now rather weak and croaking voice of Secombe. The Skyseer was having a lie down somewhere, gathering strength for what may well be his final performance.
The party split up and looked for potential trouble in the crowd.
Maisie failed to spot anything during her undercover pie-selling operation, but did sell a lot of pies. Regan sidled up to the stage, flashed his security pass and got in the front row. Looking up, he realized that this was not the best seat in the house. He could swear he detected wisps of cloud drifting across the distant top of the stage. Murdoch decided to take to the rooftops and settled down with a glass of sparkling wine to view the entertainment. Tobal and Knuck moved as inconspicuously among the revellers as a Gnome riding a 6' high Axe Beak could, while Vash and Gideon kept an eye open for troublemakers.
Secombe eventually arrived on stage to a great roar from the crowd. He paused for a while, getting what little breath remained in him back after the exhausting climb to the top of the stage and spread his hands wide in a gesture to calm the excited masses. Flags and 'We Love Secombe' banners were lowered and a hush spread through the expectant throng. All the party except Murdoch started to climb the steep unforgiving stairs to get closer to the Skyseer.
Then all hell broke loose.
From out of wagons parked to either side of the stage spilled gatecrashers in the form of skeletal panthers, flesh partialy flayed from their bodies, and hooded undead skeletons. The Hooded figures drove into the assembled spectators, striking whoever stood in their way and triggering off a major crowd surge. The flayed panthers bounded up the stairs, their intention it is assumed was to finish Secombe off. They probably shouldn't have bothered, because on top of the stage Secombe had been struggling with altitude sickness and his strength was starting to fade.
Maisie fulfilled a secret dream by unslinging her Ukelelie and striding to the front of the stage. As she banged out a particularly loud and emotional version of her favourite uplifting song she failed to notice, or maybe didn't care, that virtualy the entire audience were screaming and running directly away from her.
Like a true artist, Maisie played on.
Just as well, because the flayed panthers leapt easily up onto the stage, ignoring Regans pathetic attempt to hinder them by dropping a bag of marbles down the stairs, and crashed into the party.
The ensuing melee was short and brutal and resulted in the panthers being flung to bloody ruin from the dizzyingly high top of the stage. The party sped down the stairs to head off the Hooded skeletons who were still sowing panic among the crowd.
Regan paused briefly to tap Maisie on the shoulder, who was still playing her Ukelelie with tight closed eyes and flamboyant hand gestures, her golden locks whipping back and forth as she threw her head from side to side with gay abandon. As she stopped playing and turned with a slightly annoyed expression on her face to eye him, Regan suggested that she might like to help him try some resuscitation techniques on Secombe, who was lying motionless at the back of the stage.
Meanwhile below, the rest of the party set about the hooded skeletons. The assumption that after dealing with large, fearsome, flayed, sharp toothed and clawed felines so easily they would not have much trouble scattering the bones of a few skeletons was proved unpleasantly incorrect.
The skeletons turned on them with such ferocity that Knuck was overwhelmed and the others were hard pressed. Only a suicidal intervention by Murdoch, swinging from some bunting that had been hung between buildings in the square directly into the scratching biting skeleton hoard, saved the day. It did unfortunately result in the valiant half-orc being trampled into unconsciousness, but he was quickly revived by the rest of the party after the battle.
Their concern was perhaps more for his mental health than his battered, bruised body but they tended his physical wounds nonetheless.
On top of the stage, the Skyseer had shuffled off into Limbo and was on his way to wherever Skyseers go when they depart their mortal life. The sense of panic in the crowd had started to pass and was replaced by a general disappointment that the great spectacle they had come to see had been ruined and they were none the wiser about pending developments in Risur.
Some muttered that the woman on stage with the banjo had put the mockers on things.
The party shuffled off back to RHC HQ and got a warrant for the arrest of Mayor McBannon, which was the main thing on their minds before the Secombe festival flop had side-tracked them. With half a dozen of the toughest Constables as back-up they set off for Cauldron Hill and the Mayors estate.
They expected trouble and were not disappointed.
Gideon strode purposefully up to the front door and hammered on it. When the Mayor opened it Gideon entered into a polite conversation about the merits of coming quietly to help with enquiries. Exasperated, Regan left his post under some trees in the courtyard and approached the scene of the debate. 'You're nicked', he said and in perfunctory fashion clapped a hand on the Mayors shoulder.
Just as he did so everyone in the vicinity ducked involuntarily in response to a huge explosion from somewhere behind the Mayors residence. 'Hmm….', said the Mayor and winced. This was obviously a signal for doors and windows on buildings lining the courtyard to be flung open and an onslaught to be directed at the party and their Minders. The onslaught consisted of a barrage of household goods, from pot plants to frying pans, being hurled at the party by the Mayors household staff. Vash, swatting aside a viscously thrown feather duster, noticed two Gardeners drawing some weapons that were not at all suitable for gardening but very useful for inflicting severe stab wounds.
He recognised the short sword wielding former horticulturalists as Lorcan Kels men and waded in to attack them.
Regan had meanwhile drawn his pistol and delivered what he described afterwards as 'warning shots' into the door frame behind the Mayor. The Mayor stepped back and muttered the words of a spell which rendered Gideon deaf but fortunately not blind as he was now flailing his sword around in an attempt to intercept a volley of dinner plates (with delightful enamel work depicting a rural scene). Murdoch had leapt again in kamikaze fashion into the midst of the Mayors hirelings and had received a rather nasty stab wound from a Marsh-Mallow fork for his trouble. In a counterstroke that was amazingly successful in disarming his opponent, though highly unconventional, he engaged the fork-wielding footman in a discussion about why he should think seriously about alternative employment.
Great gushes of Witch Oil welled up in the Courtyard, threatening to drag Tobal and Knuck to gloopy ruin and the barrage relented as the Mayors staff ran out of anything small enough to throw out of the windows. 'If you want to stop the explosion…you need me to help', said the Mayor. Regan handcuffed himself to the Mayor and placed a pistol at his throat (from which range it was unlikely he would miss). 'Come on then…and no tricks', he said in as threatening a manner as possible. The Mayor gulped and directed them to a shed on the other side of the Courtyard. Within, from under a pile of fallen timber and masonary, stuck a human arm and hand, in the rictus grip of which were half a dozen brass amulets.
'Take one and follow me through this door… it is a portal to the Bleak Gate' said the Mayor.
Without hesitation the party donned amulets and entered the infernal place from which untold evil had been spewing in barely manageable quantities for the last few weeks.
True heroes
Or they had misheard 'Bleak Gate' as 'Back Gate' and thought they were making a sneaky escape from the Witch Oil disaster unfolding behind them.
'There is some machinery down here that we need to activate to control the explosion', noted the Mayor. He led them down to a chamber where they were assailed (again) by flayed panthers. During the altercation, Regan managed to rip off the steel chest plate adorning one of the beasts, resulting in its instant demise. Something useful to remember, he mentally noted to himself.
At the Mayors instruction they collected various bits of machinery that the Mayor knew were needed but did not understand the purpose of. Thankfully the lock picking and disarming skills of Murdoch and Regan combined managed to assemble the machine parts into the required configuration and the exploding Witch Oil issue was resolved.
Next thing on the agenda was to get the Mayor back to RHC HQ……………..
Unfortately after the two sessions this write-up covers, the guy who played Murdoch had to drop from the group as he was struggling with commitments and multiple late nights; likewise, the guy who played Vash (who was absent for most of this adventure) also decided to call it a day to focus on his nursing career since that was increasingly taking up more of his time. We have a couple of new players joining us in just over a week, so hopefully they'll enjoy it and have time to play and our little group can stop changing players!
The players couldn't get their head around the idea of a 25ft high stage, btw. I don't know if the intention was for it to be very tall, but I had a very difficult time convincing them it was perfectly normal >.>
---
Adventure #2 - The Dying Skyseer
"Flayed Panthers and Frying Pans"
The party set off to Nevard Secombes much anticipated prophecy making performance art event. They arrived to find the venue packed with Flints citizens, mostly from the poorer areas of the city, who were eager to hear some good news and see a good show . The square hosting the event was dominated by a huge stage, over 25 feet high, on which various druids and magic users were preparing spells to amplify the now rather weak and croaking voice of Secombe. The Skyseer was having a lie down somewhere, gathering strength for what may well be his final performance.
The party split up and looked for potential trouble in the crowd.
Maisie failed to spot anything during her undercover pie-selling operation, but did sell a lot of pies. Regan sidled up to the stage, flashed his security pass and got in the front row. Looking up, he realized that this was not the best seat in the house. He could swear he detected wisps of cloud drifting across the distant top of the stage. Murdoch decided to take to the rooftops and settled down with a glass of sparkling wine to view the entertainment. Tobal and Knuck moved as inconspicuously among the revellers as a Gnome riding a 6' high Axe Beak could, while Vash and Gideon kept an eye open for troublemakers.
Secombe eventually arrived on stage to a great roar from the crowd. He paused for a while, getting what little breath remained in him back after the exhausting climb to the top of the stage and spread his hands wide in a gesture to calm the excited masses. Flags and 'We Love Secombe' banners were lowered and a hush spread through the expectant throng. All the party except Murdoch started to climb the steep unforgiving stairs to get closer to the Skyseer.
Then all hell broke loose.
From out of wagons parked to either side of the stage spilled gatecrashers in the form of skeletal panthers, flesh partialy flayed from their bodies, and hooded undead skeletons. The Hooded figures drove into the assembled spectators, striking whoever stood in their way and triggering off a major crowd surge. The flayed panthers bounded up the stairs, their intention it is assumed was to finish Secombe off. They probably shouldn't have bothered, because on top of the stage Secombe had been struggling with altitude sickness and his strength was starting to fade.
Maisie fulfilled a secret dream by unslinging her Ukelelie and striding to the front of the stage. As she banged out a particularly loud and emotional version of her favourite uplifting song she failed to notice, or maybe didn't care, that virtualy the entire audience were screaming and running directly away from her.
Like a true artist, Maisie played on.
Just as well, because the flayed panthers leapt easily up onto the stage, ignoring Regans pathetic attempt to hinder them by dropping a bag of marbles down the stairs, and crashed into the party.
The ensuing melee was short and brutal and resulted in the panthers being flung to bloody ruin from the dizzyingly high top of the stage. The party sped down the stairs to head off the Hooded skeletons who were still sowing panic among the crowd.
Regan paused briefly to tap Maisie on the shoulder, who was still playing her Ukelelie with tight closed eyes and flamboyant hand gestures, her golden locks whipping back and forth as she threw her head from side to side with gay abandon. As she stopped playing and turned with a slightly annoyed expression on her face to eye him, Regan suggested that she might like to help him try some resuscitation techniques on Secombe, who was lying motionless at the back of the stage.
Meanwhile below, the rest of the party set about the hooded skeletons. The assumption that after dealing with large, fearsome, flayed, sharp toothed and clawed felines so easily they would not have much trouble scattering the bones of a few skeletons was proved unpleasantly incorrect.
The skeletons turned on them with such ferocity that Knuck was overwhelmed and the others were hard pressed. Only a suicidal intervention by Murdoch, swinging from some bunting that had been hung between buildings in the square directly into the scratching biting skeleton hoard, saved the day. It did unfortunately result in the valiant half-orc being trampled into unconsciousness, but he was quickly revived by the rest of the party after the battle.
Their concern was perhaps more for his mental health than his battered, bruised body but they tended his physical wounds nonetheless.
On top of the stage, the Skyseer had shuffled off into Limbo and was on his way to wherever Skyseers go when they depart their mortal life. The sense of panic in the crowd had started to pass and was replaced by a general disappointment that the great spectacle they had come to see had been ruined and they were none the wiser about pending developments in Risur.
Some muttered that the woman on stage with the banjo had put the mockers on things.
The party shuffled off back to RHC HQ and got a warrant for the arrest of Mayor McBannon, which was the main thing on their minds before the Secombe festival flop had side-tracked them. With half a dozen of the toughest Constables as back-up they set off for Cauldron Hill and the Mayors estate.
They expected trouble and were not disappointed.
Gideon strode purposefully up to the front door and hammered on it. When the Mayor opened it Gideon entered into a polite conversation about the merits of coming quietly to help with enquiries. Exasperated, Regan left his post under some trees in the courtyard and approached the scene of the debate. 'You're nicked', he said and in perfunctory fashion clapped a hand on the Mayors shoulder.
Just as he did so everyone in the vicinity ducked involuntarily in response to a huge explosion from somewhere behind the Mayors residence. 'Hmm….', said the Mayor and winced. This was obviously a signal for doors and windows on buildings lining the courtyard to be flung open and an onslaught to be directed at the party and their Minders. The onslaught consisted of a barrage of household goods, from pot plants to frying pans, being hurled at the party by the Mayors household staff. Vash, swatting aside a viscously thrown feather duster, noticed two Gardeners drawing some weapons that were not at all suitable for gardening but very useful for inflicting severe stab wounds.
He recognised the short sword wielding former horticulturalists as Lorcan Kels men and waded in to attack them.
Regan had meanwhile drawn his pistol and delivered what he described afterwards as 'warning shots' into the door frame behind the Mayor. The Mayor stepped back and muttered the words of a spell which rendered Gideon deaf but fortunately not blind as he was now flailing his sword around in an attempt to intercept a volley of dinner plates (with delightful enamel work depicting a rural scene). Murdoch had leapt again in kamikaze fashion into the midst of the Mayors hirelings and had received a rather nasty stab wound from a Marsh-Mallow fork for his trouble. In a counterstroke that was amazingly successful in disarming his opponent, though highly unconventional, he engaged the fork-wielding footman in a discussion about why he should think seriously about alternative employment.
Great gushes of Witch Oil welled up in the Courtyard, threatening to drag Tobal and Knuck to gloopy ruin and the barrage relented as the Mayors staff ran out of anything small enough to throw out of the windows. 'If you want to stop the explosion…you need me to help', said the Mayor. Regan handcuffed himself to the Mayor and placed a pistol at his throat (from which range it was unlikely he would miss). 'Come on then…and no tricks', he said in as threatening a manner as possible. The Mayor gulped and directed them to a shed on the other side of the Courtyard. Within, from under a pile of fallen timber and masonary, stuck a human arm and hand, in the rictus grip of which were half a dozen brass amulets.
'Take one and follow me through this door… it is a portal to the Bleak Gate' said the Mayor.
Without hesitation the party donned amulets and entered the infernal place from which untold evil had been spewing in barely manageable quantities for the last few weeks.
True heroes
Or they had misheard 'Bleak Gate' as 'Back Gate' and thought they were making a sneaky escape from the Witch Oil disaster unfolding behind them.
'There is some machinery down here that we need to activate to control the explosion', noted the Mayor. He led them down to a chamber where they were assailed (again) by flayed panthers. During the altercation, Regan managed to rip off the steel chest plate adorning one of the beasts, resulting in its instant demise. Something useful to remember, he mentally noted to himself.
At the Mayors instruction they collected various bits of machinery that the Mayor knew were needed but did not understand the purpose of. Thankfully the lock picking and disarming skills of Murdoch and Regan combined managed to assemble the machine parts into the required configuration and the exploding Witch Oil issue was resolved.
Next thing on the agenda was to get the Mayor back to RHC HQ……………..