Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

They mounted the staircase that led up to the city proper. The section of the island appeared to have been excavated in tiers. The lowest was the harbor and dock area. The next highest was not the main plateau.

“This is the Courtyard of Rebirth,” said Holden. “Harvesters bring their victims here to be put on the Stage and sold to the highest bidder.”

Kham looked bout the small tier. The buildings were an amalgamation of styles and shapes. They were arranged around a central square. At the center of the square was a state of a bare-chested, powerfully built man, his arms outstretched. Around the statue were three small structures that looked like shrines. In one, a man kneeled as if in prayer before it.

“And that?” Kham nodded in the direction of the statue.

“Those are the Blessing Houses,” said Holden. “That statue is of the Sorcerer-King. Harvesters who tithe their magic in prayer receive a blessing in return.”

“A religion that gives something back for once,” said Ilmarė.

“Come on,” said Quintus. He made entered one of the buildings, where Harvesters and others moved in and out.

The room was luxuriously decorated with plush pillows, thick area rugs and tapestries. Incense burned in two hanging bowls. Strategically placed light globes illuminated the chamber.

Seated upon a plush pillow was a huge man flanked by two grim and deadly looking guards. The obese man wore a large, flowing robe that threatened to rip at his slightest movement. Jewelry adorned his neck, wrists and fingers, but they had been on for so long that the fat had grown around them. A thin sheen of sweat covered him from his shaved head to his pudgy, porcine fingers. The musty smell of human stink was thick in the air.

“Gorman,” said Holden out of the side of his mouth.

At their entrance, Gorman looked up from a scroll and gave a toothy grin. He chuckled, sending ripples cascading through his many chins.

“Welcome, blessed Harvesters,” said Gorman in an effeminately high voice. “I trust the harvest has been fruitful and plentiful. I see you have liberated another from the infidels.”

“We have indeed,” said Quintus, squeezing Cassicus’ shoulder.

“Blessed is the offering that we deliver to His Sorcerous Majesty,” said Gorman. “Who have you brought to my House?”

“This is Cassicus val’Tensen,” said Quintus in measured tones. “He is the son of Augustus val’Tensen, a Coryani senator.”

The fat around Gorman’s eyes wiggled. “An excellent prize indeed!” He leaned forward, and pillows slid out from beneath his bulk. “Fear not, boy. Your life will now begin anew.” Gorman looked up, a false smile on his lips. “Who delivers him to his salvation?”

Quintus thought for a moment. “Flavius.”

“Flavius? I’ve never heard of you. Of what Finger?”

“The fourth one,” said Quintus confidently.

“The fourth what?” asked Gorman.

“Wine Drinkers,” whispered Holden behind Quintus.

“Flavius of the Wine Drinkers,” said Quintus. “It was all I could do not to tear the boy’s throat out myself. He is bursting with energy.”

Gorman leaned back, satisfied. “The boy looks sickly. He may not survive the indoctrination.”

“He is well enough,” said Quintus. “Stand up straight, boy!” He shoved Cassicus forward.

Cassicus tried to straighten up, but his weariness was visible.

“Turn around!” snapped Quintus.

Cassicus, slowly, wearily turned in a full circle. When he faced Quintus, there was a grim smile of satisfaction on his lips. It disappeared just as quickly as he turned back to face Gorman.

“Hmm,” said Gorman. “The most I can give you is 50 Cerventens.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” snarled Quintus. “150 Cerventens!”

“150? You drive a hard bargain. 110.”

“125.”

“Done,” said Gorman. He waved one jiggling limb of fat to his guards. “Take him away.”

A pouch was thrown to Vlad by the other guard. He caught it and looked inside.

”Steel?” said Vlad, surprised.

“Treat it like gold,” said Holden. “It’s Ymandragore’s currency.”

“Let us toast to your glorious find,” said Gorman. He clapped his hands, causing an earthquake of fat to wave across his body.

The guards threw a wineskin to Kham. Kham looked around, shrugged, and downed much of its contents as Gorman slurped from a goblet.

“And now we have other business to attend to,” said Quintus. He whirled, and the others followed.

“You did well,” said Holden.

“Too well,” said Ilmarė. “You sent a child to certain death. You did not have to make the boy dance.”

“I gave a senator’s son a glorious end,” said Quintus, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “I did not ask you to come.”

Kham took another swig of the wineskin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For once he was silent.

He looked back over his shoulder at the statue of the Sorcerer-King. Then Kham swallowed the rest of the wine in the wineskin.

[talien]

Holden led them up to the next tier, the city proper. Buildings of all sizes and architectural styles crowded thoroughfares that haphazardly opened up into plazas before spiraling away as streets, alleyways, and narrow dogtrots.

Heading off towards the east, Holden followed a path that meandered for quite a few miles. Their disguises helped shield them from the curious.

“Nobody makes eye contact,” said Vlad.

Everyone they passed in the various squares and plazas did their best to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

“It’s a way of life here,” said Holden. “It’s best to avoid attention from Harvesters, even in their homeland.”

The drizzle became a small deluge as they arrived at their destination. There, on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by a high stone wall, was the personal villa of Lucious Orata, Master of the Ordainers. A wooden gate was the most obvious means of entry.

Quintus pushed it open. Beyond was a well-kept lawn and a Coryani-style manse.

“Interesting,” said Holden. “Looks like Orata liked Coryani so much he recreated it here.”

“Yeah, real interesting,” said Kham. A marbled portico, held by many fluted columns, surrounded the southern and eastern sides of the villa.

The manse itself was a two-story affair, with formidable bronze double doors filling the main entrances.

“No windows,” said Vlad. “It’s built like a fortress.”

Kham walked up to the door and pulled a dagger from the folds of his robe. “I’ll take care of this.”

The hilt of the dagger popped out to reveal connected lockpicks. Kham inserted a series of them into the lock, one after the other. After a series of clicks and snaps, the door sprung open.

Kham smirked over his shoulder. “Piece of CAAAAH!”

Two large claws yanked him through the doorway and out of sight.

[talien]

The immense hall was pitch black, with only a light afterglow coming from the side hallways. Pinioned between two columns was a large, white sheet that extended from the second story landing to the floor. It flowed languidly from some unseen breeze. A set of stairs leading to the second floor was directly north of the entrance. Before the entire spectacle was Kham with a panther on his back.

“Get it off me!” he shrieked. The panther’s rear claws dug in over Kham’s gut, tearing through the Harvester robe. Only the Sicarite leather that he had recently purchased saved him from being disemboweled.

Quintus unfolded his longspear from beneath the folds of his cloak. Another panther roared a charge and leaped at Vlad; it was all the warrior could do to keep his shield between them.

“Holden, you’re with me. Ilmarė, help Vlad!” said Quintus.

Kham stopped moving. The panther snapped its jaws towards his neck…

Only to meet the bayonet at the end of Holden’s rifle. Then Quintus rammed the panther hard with his shield, forcing it off of Kham’s body.

The Elorii had her bow out in a flash. An arrow flashed across Quintus’ field of vision as she fired. It was met with a howl from the other panther.

The first panther hissed as it regained its footing and prepared for another leap. Quintus crouched and waited.

It launched itself into the air, only to be met by Quintus’ longspear. The panther howled piteously as it impaled itself on his spear. Then it fell silent.

Vlad walked back towards his companions, his blade wet with panther blood. Even a panther’s claws were no match for Nierite full plate. He looked down at Kham.

“Is he…?”

Quintus the back of one hand to Kham’s throat. “He’ll survive…by Illiir’s Grace,” he said.

“Thanks for your help,” Vlad said to Ilmarė. “But I really didn’t…” he noticed she still had another arrow knocked.

“Don’t look now,” she whispered. “But we’ve got company.”

[talien]

Quintus loomed over one of the goblin servants. It was so terrified that it was groveling, rolling around on the ground with limbs spread in supplication. Huddled behind it were over a dozen of its companions.

“Don’t hurt us!” it squealed. “Don’t hurt ussss!”

“Get up, I can’t talk to you like that.”

The goblin shakily rose to his feet, but it refused to look up at Quintus. “It won’t hurt usss, will it?”

Quintus sighed. “Where is your master?”

“The Master left three risings ago.”

“Risings?” asked Holden.

Ilmarė seemed amused. “I think that’s goblin for days.”

“Yes, yes, risings!” the goblin repeated.

“Three days,” said Quintus. “Did he leave with anyone?”

“Oh yessss,” the goblin said. “The Master left with the strange man with a large head.”

“Large head?” Kham winced as he sat down to lean against a nearby wall. “As in, big ego?”

The goblin blinked. The concept of an ego may as well have been formulated in another dimension.

“Was an Elorii with them?” asked Quintus. He pointed to Ilmarė. “Like her?”

The goblin shook his head furiously. “N-no. We have not seen one like her for many, many, many risings.” The goblin cringed at having to provide a negative answer to Quintus. “Please don’t hurt ussss!”

Kham spat out some blood on the floor. “Are there any more beasts like the ones that attacked us?”

“No, none! At least, not down here…”

Vlad joined Quintus to loom over the goblin. “But upstairs?”

“We don’t go upstairs!” said the goblin.

“Ghosts,” whispered one of the other goblins.

“Yes, ghosts,” murmured the pack of them, each whispering to each other in turn.

“The ghost is upstairs!” It pointed one tiny bony finger at the flapping sheet. “The sheet protects us!”

Quintus stared up at the ceiling. “How do you know there’s a ghost?”

There was a long, low noise from the ceiling. It was the sound of something rolling across the second floor.

“We are doomed!” whispered the lead goblin. He was met with wails of “doomed!” and “woe is us!”

“Stop that!” shouted Quintus.

They immediately became silent. Some of the goblins tried to cower behind the others in front.

Quintus picked up his longspear and shield again. He looked over at Kham. “Are you up to ghost hunting today?”

Kham stared back at Quintus for a long moment, arms crossed. Finally, he said, “Fine. But this time, YOU open the door.”

[talien]

The door before them appeared to resemble all the others in the manse. Before Quintus reached the handle, the strange rolling sound began again.

Kham drew two of his pistols. He smiled sweetly at Ilmarė. “Ladies first.”

She muttered something in Elorii at him. The rolling noise stopped.

Quintus tried the doorknob. “It’s locked.” He turned to Vlad. “Vlad, unlock it.”

Vlad snapped the visor of his helmet down with a nod. With a roar, Vlad kicked the door just above the doorknob. The combined weight of his plate armor and force splintered the door open. He entered with shield and blade at the ready.

“Looks like you’re out of the lock picking business,” said Ilmarė.

There was the sound of splintered wood and Vlad stumbled back out of the doorway with a fist-sized dent in his shield. “Something big,” he said.

“And angry,” said Kham, pointing at the thing that shambled through the doorway.

It looked as though it had been constructed from a grisly assortment of decaying human body parts. They were all stitched and bolted together into a form taller than a living man.

“Golem!” shouted Ilmarė.

Quintus stabbed it in the chest with his spear, but the golem kept coming. It swatted at Quintus with a huge hand that was attached backwards to its wrist.

With a metallic clang, Quintus slid backwards from the impact. He absorbed the brunt of the blow with his shield, but the blow still numbed his arm.

An arrow bounced off of the golem’s head.

“Get clear!” shouted Holden. He kneeled and aimed.

KA-BLAM!

The golem pounded out of the cloud of smoke in the aftermath of the rifle’s shot. Its chest was blackened, but the leathery flesh was still intact.

“It’s immune to weapons!” shouted Vlad. He stabbed at the golem, but his blade bounced off the sutures across its back. It swung a fist at him, just missing his head.

“Amateurs,” muttered Kham. He upended a vial of viscous oil into a pouch full of bullets.

Holden dropped his rifle and pointed his fingers in a fan-like gesture towards the golem. “Incensio terum!”

A wide gout of flames washed over the golem. Bits of its hair burnt off, but it didn’t even flinch.

“We need magic,” said Ilmarė through gritted teeth. “Even dwarven quality is not enough to stop this thing.” She drew Captain Bezyli’s knife, but it looked like a toothpick in comparison to the golem’s hulking form.

Vlad nodded and drew the magical dagger from his belt. “I’ll keep it busy,” he said.

The warrior leaped onto the back of the golem as it clumsily swung at him again. The blow missed and smashed through the plaster wall. Then he stabbed it again and again as the golem whirled around in rage.

BLAM! BLAM!

Two smoking holes opened in the golem’s chest. Sutures tore at the wounds. The golem collapsed in a pile of brittle body parts.

Vlad’s gauntleted hand stuck out from the pile. From somewhere in the morass of flesh and stitches came, “nice shot Kham.”

Kham grunted as he stepped around the pile into the room. “Maybe you should leave the door opening to me.”

[talien]

It was clear the room was once used as a private study, but most of the furnishings and accessories had been removed. Only a pair of empty bookcases remained. Upon one of the shelves was a glass globe the size of a human fist.

“I think there’s something in that globe,” said Ilmarė, pointing at the glass sphere.

“Something?” asked Vlad.

“It looks like…a little person.”

“What’s he doing?” asked Holden.

Ilmarė picked up the sphere and held it to the light. Then she shook it. “Not much. He’s dead.”

“Let me see it?” asked Vlad. She threw it to the warrior.

Suddenly, the thrumming, rolling noise started again. Another of the glass globes rolled on the floor towards Kham. A being was vigorously running inside of it.

“If that’s a hamster, I’m leaving,” said Kham.

Within the glass sphere was an Elorii, pounding furiously at his prison. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, but it was nearly impossible to hear due to his reduced size.

Kham picked it up and put his ear to the sphere. “I think he’s saying, ‘Trees free at brunch’.”

“Give me that!” Ilmarė snatched the globe from Kham and listened. Then she threw it to the ground. The globe shattered on impact.

“He was shouting ‘Free me at once!’” said Ilmarė. “Idiot.”

The enchantment that shrank the Elorii was undone. Before their very eyes, the being grew to full size…and then even larger.

“Did someone overdo the enchantment?” asked Vlad.

“Show some respect,” snapped Ilmarė. She curtsied low before the Elorii as he unfolded himself. “Elorii grow with age.” He towered over them at nearly eight feet in height.

“Then he must be really old,” said Kham.

“Who are you and why are you here?” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

Quintus stared up at him defiantly. “Who are you?”

“Who asks Xerxes such a question?” boomed the Elorii.

“Well that answers that,” said Kham.

“We’re here to rescue you,” said Holden. “Your daughter, Sevestia, sent us.”

Xerxes relaxed a bit. “Very well. You may rise,” he said to Ilmarė. She rose to her feet. “I cannot leave,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” asked Kham.

“Because we have an assassination to stop,” said Xerxes. He strode out the door past them.

Ilmarė followed behind him without looking at the others. Holden sighed and followed after. Kham and Quintus exchanged looks.

There was a crack behind them. Vlad looked down at the corpse that was formerly encased in the sphere, now enlarged to its full size.

“That’s weird,” said Vlad.

Quintus kneeled down to inspect the corpse.

“What?” asked Kham.

“That looks like the corpse of Master Theron,” said Vlad.

“Didn’t we just see him a few days ago?” asked Vlad.

The legionnaire rose to his feet. “And it looks like he’s been dead for months.”

[talien]

“So, why are we doing this again?” asked Kham as they followed Xerxes through the maze that was Ymandragore.

“Gemellus Pravus is marked for assassination by Orata,” said Ilmarė.

“And that is…?” asked Vlad.

“The second to the Sorcerer-King,” said Holden. “When Gemellus was taken to the Isle centuries ago, it was Xerxes that began his training and groomed him for the position he now holds.”

Though Xerxes towered over the citizenry, the people seemed to be paying more attention to scurrying in and out of shops and awnings to escape the incessant downpour than spending time gawking.

“The boy also tempers the Sorcerer-King’s rule,” said Ilmarė. “Orata gloated that Gemellus’ death will be the harbinger of a bloodbath the likes of which Ymandragore has never seen.”

“And he’s not going to leave until we try to stop it,” said Quintus with a note of resignation.

“Right,” said Ilmarė.

Even the occasional Enforcerer seemed to pay little notice to them. “Gemellus’ one fault is that he is a being of habit,” said Xerxes over his shoulder. “Every evening, he takes his walking throne and makes a small circuit of the interior of the city. He thinks it keeps him in touch with the goings on of the city.”

“Orata is counting on his habitual movement through certain squares and marketplaces for the assassination,” said Ilmarė.

They splashed through a puddle-strewn alley when Xerxes abruptly called them to a halt. Kham peered around the corner.

It was a medium-sized plaza. Though not mobbed with people, there were some Ymandrakes looking through merchant wares or getting a late night drink in the square. More than enough to serve Orata’s purposes.

“He’s coming,” said Ilmarė.

From the far end, they could hear the slow and steady steps of Gemellus’ walking throne.

“Who’s that?” asked Kham, pointing at a man whose skin was mostly scabs, with burns covering most of his body.

“That’s a highly placed member of the Order of the Green Flame,” said Holden as he loaded his rifle. “They excel at fire magic. In fact, they burn their own bodies to fuel it.”

“He’s smiling,” said Kham.

“From the looks of it, he has no lips,” said Vlad. “He’s always smiling.”

“That’s our assassin!” shouted Kham, drawing both pistols. “I’m on him!”

The assassin drew a sword that burst into flames just as Gemellus’ magical chair strode into the square. At the same time, a loud explosion sounded off from beneath Gemellus’ chair.

The Green Flame sorcerer turned towards Xerxes. ”Casses!” he said as he pointed at the Elorii.

An expanding stream of webbing ensnared everyone but Kham. He ran low to the ground, zigzagging in and out across the stalls.

Gemellus was bleeding from the ears and nose, unconscious in the wreckage of his throne.

There was the twang of a crossbow string and a bolt thudded into the cobblestone near Gemellus’ head.

“Sniper on the roof!” shouted Kham, pointing with one of his pistols at another man wielding a heavy crossbow. He was busy reloading. Kham fired.

BLAM! The crossbowman hunkered down behind the edge of the building he stood on.

The Green Flame sorcerer pulled a wand from his robes.

“Ah crap,” said Kham. He dove to the side as a fan of flames streamed from the wand and ignited the webbing. Quintus and Vlad struggled to free themselves from the flaming web, but most of it burned off.

As Kham rose to his feet, a blade whistled towards his head. He ducked just in time.

“How many of you guys ARE there?” asked Kham. He fired on his newest opponent but the bullet ricocheted off of his buckler. “Vlad, a little help?!”

Vlad pounded up behind the third assassin. The assassin spun just in time to block Vlad’s slash, stumbling backwards into a pile of stacked fruit.

Quintus’ longspear stabbed at the first assassin, forcing him to roll to the ground.

“Let’s see how you do without your wand,” snarled Quintus.

SPTANG!

A bolt struck Quintus’ shield and then with a whirring squeal, it burrowed its way through it to the other side.

“Magic bolts,” said Quintus. “Careful!”

Something struck Vlad’s armor. He grunted as the bolt spiraled through layers of plate and leather. Blood welled out of the hole.

The crack of a rifle shot echoed across the square. The Green Flame assassin clutched his thigh. Vlad used the distraction to stab him in the throat.

Kham ran over to Gemellus. “I don’t know who you are, but you better be worth it.” He dragged the man out of the wreckage.

Qutinus pointed at the sniper on the roof. “Stop him!” he shouted.

“I can’t get a shot!” shouted Ilmarė.

Holden finished reloading and aimed his rifle. “Me neither.” He began rifling through his satchel. “So we’ll have to hit him with a broader blast.”

“You’re going to throw a grenade at him?” asked Xerxes in disbelief.

Holden sparked his flint and steel and something hissed in response from his satchel. “Not a grenade,” he said. “All of them.”

“Get down!” shouted Ilmarė.

With a mighty hurl, Holden tossed the sizzling satchel at the sniper.

The explosion rocked the plaza as blackened fruit, tents, and clothing of all sorts drifted down around them.

Kham stood up. He had just finished administering a healing potion to Gemellus. “And they worry about me?”

[talien]

One moment Gemellus and Xerxes began to have a conversation. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the next moment Gemellus stood before them, fully restored.

“What just happened?” asked Vlad.

“Time-distortion magic,” said Ilmarė.

“Xerxes has informed me that I have you to thank for my continued health,” said Gemellus in a voice brimming with barely controlled anger. “For that I thank you.”

“We did what we had to,” said Quintus. “For the greater good.”

“My former mentor has also informed me of the plot of Lucious Orata and his subsequent imprisonment,” said Gemellus. “Xerxes is no longer safe upon the Isle until the traitors can no be ferreted out. I will allow you to leave with him.”

“I don’t think you could keep him here if he wished to leave,” said Ilmarė with a sneer.

“Know this: should you ever step foot upon my homeland again, or cross paths with my people, our parting shall not be as cordial,” said Gemellus.

Quintus met his gaze without wavering. “I’m counting on it,” he said.

Peering into an ornate amulet around his neck, Gemellus said, “ah, there’s your ship right now.” He turned to Xerxes with a slight smile. “I will miss you, my old friend. Thank you for all your years of…instruction.”

“YOU’RE! WELCOME!” shouted Kham at the top of his lungs.

Gemellus passed his hand in their direction and…then they were on the heaving deck of the Way of the Pearl.

Shout of surprise quickly turned to cheers of glee as Hawk and Shield members on deck realized they returned.

Within moments, Master Ecor and Y’vigne were on deck.

“We’re alive!” shouted Kham. “And look who we brought with us!” He grabbed Y’vigne and kissed her on the lips. She squealed in protest but, fortunately, didn’t slap him.

Xerxes looked about the ship. Sevestia climbed from below decks and smiled uncertainly at her father. The two held each other wordlessly. The crew parted to give them some privacy.

Holden debriefed Ecor and Y’vigne. “Thanks to them,” he nodded towards Quintus and the others, “the plot of the traitor Orata has been foiled. We have put the members of the Hawk and Shield in a position to deal with him personally.”

Y’vigne smiled at Kham. “Know that you have our undying gratitude. Should you ever have need of us, show this and we will aid you as best we can.” She pressed a golden emblem of a Hawk with its wings spread, perched upon a shield, into Kham’s hands. There was one for each of them.

“I don’t get it,” said Vlad. “We stopped the assassination, but the corpses of the assassins turned featureless.”

“Doppelgangers,” said Holden. “Lucious’ plan was to create a civil war by having the assassins pose as high-ranking Harvesters.”

Above deck, Ilmarė and Quintus stood next to each other, staring out at the sunrise.

“Another pin,” said Ilmarė, turning the hawk over in her hand. “I’m running out of places to put them.”

“I can hold them for you, if you like,” said Quintus, looking straight ahead. “I don’t have much of a home yet, but I hope to acquire a small property, maybe a farm…” he trailed off.

“I had forgotten what having a family is like,” said Ilmarė. “Sevestia and Xerxes reminded me of feelings I have not had in a very long time.”

“Yes,” said Quintus. “In times of war, love can be a weakness or a strength. It all depends on whether the object your affection is at your side…or at your back.”

Ilmarė smiled sideways at the human who stood beside her. “I think it’s a strength.”

They said nothing more. With the dawning of a new day, the Way of the Pearl headed back to the mainland and away from the foulness that was the Isle of Tears.

[Thanediel]

Very nice! As a relatively-new LA player, I love being able to read stuff about modules I missed and which are now retired.

Are you going to continue posting about more recent adventures or is this SH now at an end? I confess I would miss Quintus and Kham most if that happened

[talien]

We ain't done yet!

The good news is that the campaign is now on Chapter 32 and we just completed Chapter 12. There's a LOT of story yet to be told.

That said, the campaign's tone will shift when I took over as primary DM, with more of a Cthulhu-esque emphasis on cults in Freeport. You'll see that shift as we delve into the Year Two Living Arcanis adventures.

Unfortunately, this does mean that the Kham/Quintus rivalry and the Ilmare/Quintus romance don't get as much time because I'm not playing Quintus. Rest assured, the events that take place in the Living Arcanis adventures continue to play out. Here's a sneak preview of what happens two our gang in Year Two:

* A Senator asks for help, then gets the gang in a lot of trouble.
* Quintus gets one step closer to owning that farm he always dreamed of.
* Quintus and Ilmare's relationship gets...awkward.
* Beldin goes back to his roots to deal with issues of succession.
* Kham catches up with his estranged father.
* And more!

Thanks for your feedback, the players love to hear what people think of the game. Trust me, Kham's player pays very close attention to what I write and soundly chastizes me when I get it wrong.

[Kham Val'Abebi]

Hey Talien are you happy I finally got a freaking account!!! LOL

I wanted to see how much you posted...Wow its crazy to read all that old stuff... as I was reading I couldn't help noticing our Levels, How the heck did we survive all that madness... and then I considered where we are now and I think I'd rather be back with that Island with the harvisters, rather than on the island we' re on now, looking for what we' re looking for. Man!!

-Kham

[talien]

This is the first in the Freeport series of modules, "Death in Freeport," written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

· Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
· Vlad Martell (human ftr3) played by Matt Hammer
· Ilmarė Galen (elf brd5) played by Amber Tresca
· Naruis Drilian (human rog1/rgr2) played by Mike Best

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session.

I wasn’t sure how this would go, given that it’s not our usual tournament type adventure. The good news is that it went just fine.

This was one of those instances where the party really clicked. At one point, the party’s synergy comes together in such a way that you could feel everything lock into place. Which is pretty amazing, given that Mike had just joined us. Thanks to combined efforts of the rogue types, they managed to pull off an incredible heist. All that, and they unearthed a cult too!

This adventure was upgraded to make it suitable for their level (normally, this adventure is for 1st level PCs). I replaced the relatively weak serpent people from the Freeport adventure with Ssanu from the Ssethregore supplement. I discovered three of them in one adventure is plenty!

This is the first true city adventure without a linear plot that our group played. As a result, in most cases the party needed a little prodding to move in the right direction. Also, there are quite a few red herrings (everyone was positive the staff had something to do with Lucius), and since we play in four-hour blocks it was critical that the adventure keep moving. The good news is that it did.

There was intrigue, role-playing, plenty of grandstanding, lots of amazing rolls and best of all, stuff for Vlad to chop up at the end!

[talien]

Nauris Drilian stepped off of the Shrike. Or rather, he hopped off it after the crazy pirate captain threatened to make him sing a song to “prove he was all right.”

Dril was dressed in a full body cloak, the hood of which concealed his features. He scanned the docks. The note he had taken off the impostor’s body spoke of a “pit” in Freeport. If there were other Ssanu posing as Altharins, Dril planned to root them out.

The action on the docks was mesmerizing. There were ships in port from all over the world, carrying every manner of exotics goods. Sailors and merchants of all races and backgrounds mingled on the wharves; money changed hands so fast he could barely even follow it. The sights and sounds were so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice a group of men gathering around him.

Dril’s hand darted under his cloak to his scimitar, which he had taken off the Shining Patrol impostor.

They were all scarred and crusty sailors armed with saps and belaying pins. The leader of the scurvy dogs, a toothless man with tattooed knuckles, smiled crookedly.

“You’ve just volunteered for an exciting life at sea,” he cackled. “Do you want to go the easy way or the hard way?”

“I just got off a boat,” said Dril through clenched teeth. “I don’t intend to get back on it.”

The crowd parted around them, but no one moved to help.

“Oh I don’t think you understand,” said Toothless. “I’m not asking. Well, okay I was asking. But you don’t have a choice.”

He was surrounded. There were men behind him, slapping saps into open palms. Dril crouched slightly, feeling the comforting touch of his dagger against his right thigh.

Dril’s other hand ducked under his cloak. “You’re making a mistake.”

Toothless’ sap whistled towards Dril’s head, but it never connected. The wicked point of a scimitar blade protruded from the grizzled sailor’s back.

Then everything became a blur. Dril’s other hand slashed upwards, slitting a sailor’s throat open.
Flashes of pain reverberated across Dril’s back and shoulders, but none struck his head. He considered himself lucky. Hi whirled, his cloak snapping into the faces of those behind him. He crouched down and away, making himself as small as possible. Two sailors fell for it. They advanced, saps raised high, only to find unforgiving steel in their bellies.

Dril rose like a ghost from docks, his cloak slithering backwards off the blood and corpses. “Anyone else?” he asked, breathing hard.

The remaining sailors turn and fled. Dril sheathed his weapons as a large man in full plate armor clanked awkwardly down the docks towards him.

“That’ll teach them to pick on newcomers,” he said with a smile. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Dril. “They made me an offer.” He looked down at the corpses at his feet. “I refused.”

“Then perhaps you will take this offer instead,” said a man behind them.

Both of them turned to see a slight, bearded man in robes. “And who are you?” asked Dril.

“Where are my manners? I’m brother Egil. Are you with Kaiyem?”

“Who?” asked Dril.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Egil. “I thought because you were an Altherian that you were with my friend. I sent him an urgent message.”

“Kham,” Vlad said the name slowly, because he was no longer sure if he was saying it correctly, “told us to meet him at the Pale Plate.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Perhaps we should talk there.”

“Yes,” said Egil. He turned to Dril. “If you are true to your Altherian brothers, you might be interested in what I have to say.” His eyes darted to the long, covered rod that was strapped beneath Dril’s cloak across his back.

“You’re a priest of Althere?” Egil nodded. “Then I will listen.”

They stepped over the bodies as looters darted in, stripping the bodies bare and tossing the corpses off the pier.

“Is Kaiyem at the Pale Plate?” asked Egil.

“Not yet,” said Vlad. He looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure where he is…”

Egil nodded sagely. “He’s probably hung over.”

“So you know him,” said Vlad.

[talien]

Kham stumbled into his old stomping grounds, the Pale Plate, more than a little hung over. When he entered, everyone stopped talking: the Illirian priest sermonizing to the half-conscious drunk, the two mercenaries talking heatedly in the corner, the bartender wiping the bar, and his erstwhile adventuring companions.

The bartender nodded to Kham. Kham nodded back.

Before he joined Ilmarė, Vlad, Dril, and Egil, a barmaid placed an orange-colored drink in a glass before the remaining empty seat.

“Kaiyem! You came!” said Egil, rising to his feet. “My friend, it has been a long time. I’m glad you got my message.”

Kham stumbled into the seat. “Yeah, hi.”

“You’ve been here before, I take it,” Ilmarė said coolly.

Kham waved at the beautiful Elorii, his mind too fogged over to make even a witty retort. His hand returned to his forehead. The other reached for his drink.

Egil sat again. “As I was saying, a librarian from my temple disappeared. You remember Lucius, don’t you Kaiyem?”

Kham grunted.

“I’m concerned that evil may have befallen him. I’m willing to offer you 50 Imperials, 10 now and 40 on completion of the mission if you can find him and return him to the Temple of Althares.”

“Why can’t your…priests find him?” said Ilmarė, sneering at the word “priests.”

“It’s complicated,” said Egil. “After Brother Oriku’s betrayal, I suspect the Temple has been infiltrated by spies. I’m not sure whom I can trust there. But I know Lucius, and I know he would not just abandon his duties.”

“It’s either booze, a woman, or he’s dead,” said Kham. “One of the three, I’m betting.”

“It’s not like Lucius,” said Egil. “We all take vows of abstinence and poverty upon joining the Temple.”

“And that’s why I’m not a priest of Althares,” said Kham.

“I will provide you with any information I can,” said Egil. “Will you help?”

Dril’s eyes brightened as Egil plopped 10 Imperials in four stacks before him. “I’m in,” he said.

Vlad took his coins. “Me too.”

Ilmarė smiled. “I killed the first traitor,” she said sweetly. “I will be happy to kill more of the traitorous priests of your false gods.”

Egil blinked uncertainly at the Elorii.

“You know I’ll help,” Kham said to Egil. He looked over at Dril, adjusting his purple lenses. “Would anyone mind telling me who this guy is?”

[Thanediel]

Originally Posted by talien

Egil nodded sagely. “He’s probably hung over.”

“So you know him,” said Vlad.

ROFL!

[talien]

It's true, Kham has a drinking problem. Believe it or not, that's the least of his vices.

In one adventure, he went through most of it totally stoned. In the most recent chapter (I think we're up to chapter 34), he was blitzed out of his mind.

That's our Kham...always contributing his full 10% to the party!

[Kham Val'Abebi]

How was he to know... everyone wanted to know what the potion did… they didn’t have time to get it checked and it was in the guys bed room. How was Kham suppose to know it was an addictive hallucinagenitic drug… Opps.. Don’t blame him.. he is a man of action… besides he is too busy saving he world to bother saving himself. But that is yet to come, I don’t want to ruin anything.

[talien]

They made their way towards Lucius’ home to look for clues as to his whereabouts.

“Whatever happened to Lucius?” asked Kham as they walked through the winding streets of Drac’s End. “I haven’t seen him for over five years.”

“Something strange,” said Egil. “One day Lucius was my friend of many years and the next he was a complete stranger. He asked bizarre questions, seemed to remember nothing of our friendship, and treated the temple like his own personal library. A few months later he was caught violating the sanctum and was expelled from the temple. Shortly thereafter, he left Freeport entirely.”

“And then he showed up four years later?” asked Dril.

Egil nodded. “When Lucius reappeared, he was like his old self. He came to the temple and begged to be readmitted. He said that he had no memory of the previous five years. Thuron, our high priest, was adamant about refusing Lucius’ petition, but he changed his mind after a private meeting with him.”

“Curious,” said Ilmarė.

“Lucius returned to the temple and for a little while at least, it was just like old times. But after a few months, he started having problems sleeping. Then Lucius began asking questions about what he had been like right before his expulsion, as if he didn’t remember any of it. I was worried he was going insane. Two days ago, Lucius failed to come to the temple,” said Egil. “I went to Lucius’ home.” He nodded at the small dwelling before them. “It was empty, but you’re welcome to look.”

“Being a librarian’s not a lucrative job, is it?” asked Kham. He pushed the door open to Lucius’ small home.

Lucius’ home was only the ground floor, consisting of two rooms. A trapdoor led down to the basement. Kham and Ilmarė went downstairs while Dril and Vlad searched the main room.

Most of the main room was cluttered with books, scrolls, quills, inkpots, and other tools of the scholar’s trade. A cot was jammed into one corner, with a small desk under the front window.

“Anything?” Vlad shouted down the basement door.

“Nothing good,” said Kham.

Dril pawed through the books and scrolls. He picked up a title, “Of Dwarves and Men: The Lands of Onara,” and flipped through it. A note floated out from between the papers to the floor.

Vlad picked it up. “Hmm.” He handed it to Egil. “Does any of this make sense?”

Brother Egil looked at the note curiously. “Well, it does mention sleeping. Poor Lucius, he must have been exhausted. And he did have a fondness for turnips. But this last part, about visiting Captain Scarbelly—“

“Scarbelly?” asked Kham. He clumped back up the steps of the basement. “He’s bad news.”

Egil nodded. “He’s the captain of the Bloody Vengeance. It’s crewed by orcs.”

“I have heard of this orc,” said Ilmarė. “He claims to have killed twenty nine men in hand-to-hand combat.”

Vlad slapped one hand on the hilt of his longsword. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t hit thirty.”

[talien]

The Bloody Vengeance was a crudely built orc ship, roughly 90 feet long. It was battle-scarred but seaworthy.

“Interesting,” said Dril, looking out the dirty window of the Rusty Hook. “No other ships are moored nearby.”

The ship’s sail was furled, but the crow’s nest held an orc lookout armed with a shortbow. Two other orcs guarded the gangway, their scowls and jagged swords encouraging passersby to keep walking.

Kham walked back from the bar to join them at the table. He spun a chair around to straddle it. “Captain Scarbelly deals in ‘safe transportation of items of importance’. So I figure I’ve got just the thing for him to transport.”

“Like what?” asked Vlad.

“Me,” said Kham with a grin.

“Kham,” said Ilmarė, her voice rising. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just going to take a tour of the Bloody Vengeance.” Kham nodded to Dril. Then both Altherins got up and left. Vlad and Ilmarė saw them head towards the orc ship when Kham suddenly disappeared.

A few seconds later, Captain Scarbelly came into the Rusty Hook. Or rather, he stumbled in along with four of his orc compatriots. He was a brooding hulk with straggly black dreadlocks and a tattered cloak. An axe hung from his belt in open view—no one seemed inclined to challenge him about it.

Scarbelly and his orcs sat down at a table, kicking drunken patrons out of the way. “Gimme sumtin’ t’eat!” he shouted.

The bartender hopped into action. Sloshing plates of gruel were slapped onto the table. Mugs of ale appeared in front of each of the orcs.

Scarbelly downed a mug in one shot. Foam dripped from his lower fangs.

“More!” he shouted.

The bartender brought another round of mugs. The second time, he whispered in Scarbelly’s ear.

Scarbelly turned to look at him. “What? Ye think this be a freakin' escort service? 'ere be dis guy?”

The bartender looked back to scan the crowd.

Ilmarė tensed up. “They’re looking for Kham.”

The orcs slurped their meals, practically taking bites out of the wooden bowls as they did so.

“Well?” shouted Scarbelly. “Ye get me all excited about some treasure an' now th' guy doesn’t show up?”

“If they get back to the ship while Kham is on it…” said Vlad.

Ilmarė closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”

Vlad looked at her in bewilderment. “Do what?”

With a shout, Ilmarė hopped up onto their table. Throwing her arms wide, she began to sing:

“Oooooooh, WHO LIVES IN A GROTTO DOWN UNDER THE SEA?”

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then Scarbelly and his orcs began whooping it up. They sang back:

“LEV-I-A-THAN!”

[talien]

“So what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” said Kham, patting himself down until he found the potion he was looking for. “You must be new. I don’t do plans.”

“Okay,” said Dril. “Well, I can’t see you any more.”

Kham faded from site as a result of his invisibility potion.

“And here I thought our first date was going so well,” said Kham. “Keep the guards busy.”

Dril shook his head and slowly strode out to the dock where the Bloody Vengeance was anchored. There were two orcs standing guard at the end of the gangplank.

“Hey!” said one of them as Dril approached. “That’s far enough! Bugger off!”

“Easy,” said Dril, with his hands up. “I heard your Captain at the Rusty Hook talking about transporting items of importance. I’m new in town.”

“An’ I’m Lord Drac,” said the one orc. They broke into snorting laughter. “I don’t care who th' hell ye be, get ou' o' here.” He pointed his bow for emphasis.

“I may have something he’d be interested in transporting, but if you want to tell him you passed up on a thousand Imperials, that’s fine with me.” Dril turned to leave

“Wait,” said one of the orcs. “Th’ Capt’n does carry some stuff.”

“Like magic staves,” said the other orc.

“Shut up!” said the first orc. “Th' Capt’n told us nay t' tell anyone ’bout dat!”

The second orc ignored him. “So what do ye be havin' in mind?”

A light breeze wafted past Dril, stirring his cloak. “Nice plan,” whispered Kham. “Keep them busy. I’ll meet you back at the docks.”