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

[talien]

They returned to a cheering crowd.

“I knew you’d win out all along!” said Baldric. “And here’s yer treasure!”

Two men dragged a heavy chest of exotic spices up to the stage. Vlad accepted it graciously.

“You were right,” Dril said to Ilmarė, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“I’ve studied human history,” said Ilmarė. “The majority of Captain Drac’s booty was exotic spices. He raided trading ships, and very few ships carry bars of gold. So it stands to reason that the treasure was a case of spices.”

“I suppose so,” said Dril. “And what of Lucius and Egil?”

“They’re back at the Temple,” said Ilmarė. “I’ve told them not to trust any more dwarves promising them information about Lucius’ nightmares.”

“Strange,” said Dril. “I didn’t find a dwarf’s body anywhere in the spider’s lair.”

”You wouldn’t,” said Ilmarė. “That was an aranea, a shapeshifter. It used its dwarf form to lure the two idiots to the basement. The equipment we found was all dwarf-sized.”

“Oh?” asked Dril. “What kind of equipment?”

“A sword, a pair of boots, and leather armor. It’s all dyed purple, with a yellow sign burned onto it. It’s the same sign that was on the temple wall.” She showed him the scabbard. The wavy triskelion was emblazoned in yellow on the purple leather, leather that came from no natural beast.

Dril was silent. Behind him, the crowd was cheering and carrying Vlad, no longer in his armor, aloft. Vlad’s defeat made him more popular than if he had actually won the One-Eyed Jack contest.

“Dril?” asked Ilmarė, concern in her voice.

“I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection before,” said Dril. “The aranea whispered something which might have been addressed to me…or maybe it was just muttering to itself.”

“Whispered what?”

Dril didn’t respond.

“Dril?” asked Ilmarė, losing patience. “What did it say?”

When Dril finally responded, his gaze was unfocused, his features cold. “It said:

“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”
“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”
“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”

[talien]

This adventure is soft point 2 in Year 2 of the tournament module, "The Senator’s Seal," written by Michael S. Webster and Team Paradigm, 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:

· Vlad Martell (human ftr4) played by Matt Hammer
· Ilmarė Galen (elf brd4/ftr1) 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 knew the short adventure wouldn’t be enough to fill out the evening, so I decided to use The Senator’s Seal. This is a tough adventure for our group…lots of problem solving, not nearly as much combat. It worked nicely as a bookend to Holiday in the Sun though, which was all action, no problem solving.

This adventure is actually all just a set up for another adventure, so I didn’t mind it. Unfortunately, this is another adventure that goes horribly awry…our heroes don’t do so well this time around. It’s my fault too—I played at a higher Average Party Level (APL 6) when the party was actually APL 4. Even then, Jaleon was down to 10 hit points in the last fight before he got away.

The players are about to read what happened when they were helpless and unconscious. Lesson learned: Grand Coryan may look prettier than Freeport, but that doesn’t make it a nicer place.

P.S. Vlad recently learned the Blind Fight feat. See if you can tell.

[talien]

“Well, at least it’s better than Freeport.” Vlad stood at the prow of the Shrike, staring out at Grand Coryan. After the assassination attempt, Captain Baldric was eager to leave town for a while. He took them up immediately on an offer to visit Grand Coryan.

“Senator Okpara’s note said a ‘mutual associate’ recommended us to him,” said Dril. “I wonder who.”

“Quintus, of course,” said Ilmarė. There was a hint of admiration in her voice. “Being a legionnaire has its advantages.”

The capital city was a bustling hive of activity as half of the population tried to sell something to the other half.

“I’ve never met this Quintus,” said Dril. “Who is he?”

Ilmarė’s expression flickered with surprise at the inquiry. Her icy exterior quickly returned. “An acquaintance,” she said coolly. “Quintus Aurelius Ignatius served under Senator Tensen-Balin. He also led an attack on Ymandragore.”

Dril looked at the Elorii sideways. “Quintus sounds like a good man to have around in a pinch.”

Vlad chimed in. “He is. I’ve fought at his side before.”

Correctly interpreting Ilmarė’s demeanor, Dril avoided the subject after they disembarked. “I’ve done some research on Okpara. He is a senator of the Toranesta province and not particularly well-liked.”

“What senator is?” asked Ilmarė.

Dril had never been to Grand Coryan before but was curious about it. Altherians looked upon Coryan with a mixture of admiration and disdain. Their efficiency and organization was undeniable, but all of it was bent towards war--a waste of Altheres’ gifts.

After a few discreet inquiries to locate the Senator’s villa, they arrived at Okpara’s home. His aide showed them into a chamber adorned with many plush and ornate cushions.

“Please, make yourself at ease,” said the aide.

“I hope this pays well,” said Vlad to Dril. “We went through a lot of trouble in Freeport without much to show for it.” Vlad’s bruises from the beating he suffered at the hands of the sailors in One-Eyed Jack’s Stand were only starting to fade.

“Speak for yourself,” said Ilmarė. She wore converted purple leather armor emblazoned with a yellow sign on the center.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to wear that armor in public?” asked Vlad. “Isn’t that the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?”

“This, from the Milandisian who wears painted over Nierite armor?”

Vlad coughed. “Point taken.”

Behind them, Dril idly stroked the yellow sign seared into the purple boots he wore. But he kept it to himself.

[talien]

Moments later, they were escorted into an inner chamber that obviously served as the Senator’s office. A pair of men resided within; one with the bearing of a professional soldier, the other reclining upon a luxurious divan.

The nobleman was dressed in fine silken clothing, in the style commonly seen in the Toranesian province of the Empire. There was a clear air of confidence and authority about him.

With a curt nod from his employer, the soldier closed the door. “I am Jaleon, the Senator’s personal bodyguard and this is Senator Okpara val’Inares.”

“So we gathered,” said Ilmarė.

“The Senator has lost something of importance—“

“What my man means to say,” interrupted Okpara, his rich voice filling the room, “is that something very vital to me and the Senate has been stolen.”

Jaleon poorly masked his annoyance at being interrupted, but continued nonetheless. “The Senator would like you to recover his Seal of Office. In the wrong hands, it could cause considerable trouble.”

“Trouble? Trouble indeed!” shouted the Senator. “It would be disastrous in the wrong hands! Not only to my political well-being, but to the Empire itself!”

Jaleon cleared his throat. “The SEAL,” he continued, glaring at his superior, “is a golden cylinder about six inches long. On one end is the sigil of the Senator’s area of responsibility in Toranesta; on the other is a star sapphire. The Seal is not just valuable monetarily, but more so for its political significance. Even the knowledge that it is lost would be quite damaging to His Excellency.”

The Senator crossed his arm and sneered down at them. “Quintus says that your discretion can be relied upon. Will you aid me in its recovery?”

“Do you have any idea who might want to steal it?” asked Dril.

“Anyone who would want it for the gold or the sapphire,” said Okpara. “Just the jewel alone is worth thousands of Imperials!”

“Anyone else besides a common thief?” asked Ilmarė.

“Its true worth lies in its political power,” said Jaleon. “Anyone could use it write permits or other documents permitting the movement of any number of things: slaves, taxes, or even armies within Toranesta. By the time the documents are verified as forgeries, the damage to the Senator’s career would be irreparable.”

“Who would most benefit from your humiliation?” asked Dril in even tones.

“A Senator has many enemies by virtue of his position,” said Jaleon. His expression was carefully neutral.

“How much?” asked Vlad.

“500 Imperials each,” said Jaleon.

“But you must retrieve the Seal and vow to keep this matter quiet,” said Okpara.

Dril opened his mouth but was cut off by Vlad. “We’re in.”

“Good,” said Jaleon. “The Senator was at the bazaar looking at a rug merchant’s wares—“

“When I was accosted by a farmer,” snarled Okpara. “He was a freeman and well-dressed, if unfashionable, fellow. He also smelled.” The senator rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “He smelled like an animal. Cattle, perhaps.”

“When the Senator checked his pouch afterwards, he discovered it had been lifted,” said Jaleon.

“He was the only person to touch me,” said Okpara.

“Names?” asked Dril.

“I don’t know the name of the farmer,” said Okpara. “But the merchant is named Aljandros. A strange fellow, he’s very fond of rugs.”

Ilmarė started. “No, it can’t be.”

“What?” asked Dril.

“Let’s just say Kham may be a customer of this merchant,” said Ilmarė.

[talien]

As they made their way through the marketplace the next morning, they found the fabric merchant assisting a middle-aged woman looking at some cotton cloth.

Taking the bolt of cloth over to a table, Aljandros noticed Dril. He nodded, acknowledging his presence.

Then he measured several yards of cloth and handed it to the slave-woman. She passed him a few coins in return. He put the bolt back in its proper place before approaching.

"You are looking for a rug, yes?" Aljandros said, sidling up to Dril. "I give you good rug. My rugs are very nice."

Dril frowned at Aljandros, who looked a bit like an overeager puppy. "I am not interested in rugs, merchant. I’m looking for a seal."

“Seal? I do not know of such things.” Undeterred, the merchant tried Ilmarė next. "A rug for the pretty lady?"

The Elorii stared the merchant down. "What would I do with a rug?" she said after he backed away.

"What a question! A rug will keep you warm. It will keep you soft. I give you good rug."

“Has anyone been by who smells like cattle?” asked Vlad.

“I am not sure,” said Aljandros. The merchant rolled out a variety of furry-looking rugs. "Touch, see? Feel the softness."

Dril sighed. “Fine. I will buy a rug, merchant, and I expect it delivered quickly.”

"Oh yes, yes!" Aljandros said excitedly. "I give you great rug. It keep you warm at night!" He began rifling through a pile of furs and cloth.

"Stop encouraging him," said Ilmarė. "You'll have us all buying rugs by the time he's done."

“So about that person who smelled like cattle…”

“Oh yes, yes!” said Aljandros, stroking his beard. “There was a man, a landowner. He lives outside city. Purchased some silk for his wife.”

“Do you know him?” asked Vlad.

Aljandros shook his head. “I have never seen him before in my life. Why are you seeking him?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Dril. “Don’t forget to deliver that rug to this address.” He slipped the fabric merchant a piece of parchment along with some Imperials.

They turned and walked away, unaware of the worry that flashed across the normally jovial merchant’s face.

[talien]

A city as grand as Coryan required an impressive amount of meat to feed it. As a result, the stockyards were enormous.
They smelled the stockyards long before they saw them. The stench of offal assailed their nostrils.

Vlad sniffed the air. “Reminds me of home,” he said.

“Remind me to never visit Milandir,” said Ilmarė with a scowl.

The bleats and cries of animals awaiting slaughter greeted their arrival. Dril sent a slave to fetch the “wealthy farmer.” A man named Dardanus stepped warily up to them.

“Can I help you?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

“Yes,” said Dril. “We come on behalf of a Senator. Do you mind if we speak in private? It’s an urgent matter.”

“Of course, of course,” said Dardanus, his brow furrowing with concern.

The farmer led them to a house that was affordable only by a successful businessman. They sat down in the dining room.

“We are investigating the theft of a particular item, and we’re concerned you may have come into possession of it,” said Dril. “You might have purchased it recently, from a merchant named Aljandros.”

The farmer, an older man with, leaned back in his chair in surprise. Then he looked at the open doorway over his shoulder. “My wife will be sick with worry. Oh, this will ruin everything.”

“Maybe if you tell us what you purchased, we can get to the bottom of this,” said Ilmarė impatiently.

“Yes, I was at Aljandros’ stall this morning,” said Dardanus. “My daughter is to be married and my wife wanted silk from which to make her wedding dress.”

Vlad and Dril exchanged glances. “Did you remember anything else of note?” Dril asked.

“I do recall a rather rude man of some means. I inadvertently bumped into him. I apologized of course.”

“Of course,” said Dril. “Go on.”

“That’s it,” said Dardanus. “Should I tell my wife to stop work on the dress?”

“No, that’s fine,” said Dril. “I think you’re cleared of any wrongdoing. Thank you for your time.” He got up to leave.

“Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding,” Vlad said, shaking Dardanus’ hand.

Ilmarė looked down as she stepped into the foyer. She was standing on a brightly hued rug. “You have many rugs, one in every room. Do you visit Aljandros’ shop often?”

“I do,” said Dardanus with an embarrassed grin. “Although I buy fabric for my wife from time to time, I have a fondness for Alijandro’s rugs. He’s certainly passionate about them.”

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed. “He certainly is.”

They stepped out of Dardanus house.

“Finally,” said Vlad, punching a fist into one palm, “now I get to do some ‘investigating’.”

[talien]

Aljandros dangled from the delicate fabric of his carefully woven vest. Vlad held him off the ground with one hand.

“You lied,” said Ilmarė. “Dardanus has patronized your shop before.”

“This is about the small rod of gold!” Aljandros practically shouted. He was visibly sweating. “I found it, yes. In a velvet bag. But I did not steal!”

“Well, I’m not convinced,” said Vlad, shaking the man a bit.

“I sold it!”

“To whom?” asked Dril.

“Pawnbroker! I give you directions!”

As it turned out, there were many pawnbrokers within the city, and a few within easy walking distance of the fabric merchant’s shop. They found the shop where Aljandros said he sold the seal. It was a rather non-descript structure filled with an array of items, ranging from toys to cookware to weapons. The proprietress of the place was a lithe middle-aged woman with a patch over one eye.

“Did you buy something from a fabric merchant named Aljandros?” asked Dril menacingly.

“Don’t know,” said the women, glaring back. “My memory’s foggy. But I have a fine array of items here you might be interested in purchasing if you’re so inclined.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes. “Stupid hu—“

“I’ll take that dagger,” said Vlad, pointing at a blade ensconced in a gilded sheathe.

“That’s better,” said the woman. Her grimace turned into a welcoming smile. “Name’s Melosia.” She wrapped up the dagger in cloth. “I do remember your friend. He had a small golden rod. Don’t they all?” she said, snickering in Ilmarė’s direction.

Ilmarė didn’t laugh.

“Anyway, I didn’t buy it from him. Something like that is too rich for my blood. I suggested he get it melted down for the gold. I told him to visit Iphicles the Fat; he’s nearby and reasonably honest.”

“You better not be lying,” said Dril. “Finding this…item…is trying my patience.”

Melosia sneered back at him. “Altharian rabble, always making threats they can’t follow up. Good luck in your search. You’ll need it with an attitude like that.”

She turned away from them. Vlad rubbed his forehead as they walked out.

“If we keep visiting merchants like this, I’m going to go broke.”

[talien]

Gold merchants were much less common than pawnshops. Iphicles the Fats’ establishment was more akin to a fortress than a workshop. Its high stone walls had nothing but the smallest of windows, more than fifteen feet high in the air. Impressive metal doors stood open and a pair of guards of intimidating stature blocked the doorway.

One of the guards eyed Vlad warily. “Only two at a time,” he said. “The rest of you will have to wait.”

Ilmarė nodded. “Vlad, stay here.”

Her directive was met with a shrug. “I’m sick of talking to merchants anyway.”

Within were two more stout and formidable guards. Such precautions were understandable, as there was a prince’s ransom in jewelry on display. Fastidiously arranging an array of fine gold chains was a thin, middle-aged man with short graying hair and a delicate, almost effeminate touch. Despite his name, he wasn’t fat at all.

“Welcome!” said Iphicles. “Such worthies as yourselves are certain to find items to your liking in my humble shop.”

Even to the untrained eye, the level of craftsmanship was quite extraordinary. The light filtering in from the small windows reflected off of the mirrors of polished gold to bathe the room in a warm, argent light.

“Look, merchant,” said Dril. “It’s been a long day. Did Aljandros come—“

“You have a lovely neck,” said Iphicles, sidling up to Ilmarė. “Long, pale. It looks naked without these amethyst earrings. They would go perfect with your hair.”

Ilmarė watched the merchant through half-closed lids. “Fine. I’ll take them.” She counted out Imperials from a pouch at her belt.

“Ah yes,” said Iphicles. He pulled up a stool and led Ilmarė to it. “I remember Aljandros coming in earlier in the day. He wanted something melted down into ingots.”

“Yes, we know that already,” snapped Dril. “Did you melt the item?”

“No,” said Iphicles. He deftly pulled Ilmarė’s silver and purple hair into a bun. “We are too busy on other projects for the Cathedral to take on such work.”

“Why didn’t you just give him ingots you already had?”

Iphicles placed the two earrings on Ilmarė’s ears. “Magnificent!” he said. Then he turned to Dril. “We don’t have the time to refine the gold from the item, and the ingots we have are earmarked for other projects.”

Ilmarė stood up and admired herself in the mirror. “Not bad,” she said.

“I did recommend another goldsmith farther into town, Fabiro the Slim.” Iphicles smiled congenially and gave them the directions. “By the way, why do you ask?”

“I’m sure a busy merchant like yourself has no time for a long explanation,” said Dril. And with that, he abruptly stalked out of the shop.

Vlad was chatting with the guards outside. He joined them in the street.

“So?”

“Another dead end,” said Dril. “We’re being led in circles.”

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

“Now we find Fabiro the Slim,” said Dril.

“Why do I get the feeling,” said Ilmarė. “That Fabiro’s not very slim either?”

[talien]

Their path to Fabiro the Slim took them down an alleyway. It stank and had mysterious brown stains in the street.

“This seems a strange place to place a gold merchant’s shop,” said Ilmarė.

Several large men stepped out into the alleyway. “We hear you’ve been looking for us. What do you want?”

Vlad’s reached for the hilt of his sword, but Dril stayed his hand.

“The Cafelan Cartel,” said the Altherian. “Took you long enough. I assume your boss has what we’re looking for?”

One of the thugs shook his head. “We’re not here to answer questions. If you want questions answered, you’ll have to speak to the boss.”

“Right. Raven.”

“Who?” asked Vlad.

“Raven,” said Dril matter-of-factly. “The quarter’s Savonan boss for this area.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Ilmarė.

“I have my ways,” said Dril. He turned back to the men. “Well?”

“Fine,” said another of the thugs. “But you will have to be blindfolded.”

“Now wait just a minute—“ protested Ilmarė.

“You’ll have to trust me,” said Dril. “This is the only way.”

“Don’t worry,” said Vlad. “I’m a trained night fighter.”

Ilmarė took a deep breath. “Fine. But if I feel one hand touch anywhere but my blindfold, that man will no longer be able to clap. Do I make myself clear?”

The Cafelan thugs chuckled. “We’ll be nice as long as you’re nice,” they said.

“Then we’re screwed,” said Vlad. Ilmarė was blindfolded before she could glare at him.

[talien]

They moved down a flight of steps for what must have been the hundredth time, but this time the temperature continued to fall. Footsteps echoed off of close walls. Voices in the distance rose in volume, then suddenly stopped just as they became comprehensible. As they were finally brought to a halt, snickers echoed around them. Their blindfolds were removed.

They had been brought before a large wooden chair, carved in great, curving scrolls. Sitting atop the chair was a dark-skinned woman. Raven’s steel-gray eyes critically evaluated Dril.

“This him?” she asked in a smooth voice.

A young boy nodded his head. “Yah, these ‘em are the one’s I o’erheard askin’ for us.”

“Way to keep the mission secret,” Ilmarė said to Dril.

“So now that you are here, what do you want?” asked Raven.

“Stop playing us for fools,” said Dril. “You know what we want.”

“The seal,” said Raven with a slight smile. “Yes, I am aware of it. Two of my employees…acquired it from that idiot merchant. He should never have had it in the first place.”

“So you stole it from him?” asked Vlad.

Raven continued. “Unfortunately, they were attacked while bringing it to me—so that I could return it to its proper owner, of course.”

“Of course,” said Dril.

“The attackers were quite efficient,” said Raven. “In the process, one of my friends was slain and the other seriously wounded. They made just one mistake.”

She tossed a scrap of torn cloth on the ground. The weave was very fine. Part of a family crest was visible on it.

“That’s the sign of the personal guard of Senator Janthi val’Sheem,” said Ilmarė.

“Very perceptive,” said Raven. “As much as I would like to, I cannot exact revenge for this affront. At least, not in a manner that we would most desire.” Anger tinged her voice. “However, revenge is more than a dagger slipped between the ribs.”

Dril nodded. “What would you have us do?”

“I will help you foil this Janthi val’Sheem’s plans. Recover the seal and return it to the rightful owner. Just the public attention of his involvement in stealing the seal will hurt him politically. Avoid permitting harm to come to him; attacking a Senator is a capital offense in Coryan, regardless of crimes he may have committed.”

Raven sat back into her chair, signaling with but a nod to the thugs that brought them there.

“Not the blindfolds again,” said Ilmarė with a resigned sigh.

“Did I mention I’m a trained night—” asked Vlad as the blindfold was applied.

“Yes!” said Ilmarė and Dril.

[talien]

They were led around for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, they stopped. They could hear the sounds of a conversation.

In muffled tones, a powerful voice said, “with only a few orders to key people, Okpara’s career in the Senate will be over. You will be handsomely compensated for your efforts, to be sure.”

Then they were shoved out of the alley. Ilmarė tore the blindfold from her face.

They were just outside an ornate door. Dril took his own blindfold off and looked up at the crest on the door.

“Senator Janthi val’Sheem’s office,” said Dril.

“You know, if I were attacked right now I could totally fight like this,” said Vlad.

“Take off the blindfold, Vlad,” said Ilmarė. “We know all about your night fighting skills.”

Just then the door opened. An aide poked his head out. “Can I help you?”

“No,” said Dril. “Just getting our bearings.”

The door slammed shut.

“We’re going to have to find another way in,” said Dril. “We heard that conversation from the alley, so there must be a window…”

There were windows in the alley, but they turned out to be narrow slits. The otherwise featureless alley had no obvious exits.

“Well,” said Dril, “I’m out of ideas. We can’t very well force our way in there.”

Ilmarė was staring over Vlad’s shoulder.

“What?” he asked.

“There’s the outline of a door in the wall behind you,” she said.

“Where?” asked Vlad. He felt around the wall with his fingers. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Right here,” said Ilmarė. She pushed on something that clicked.

With barely a sound, the wall spun and swallowed up the Elorii.

[talien]

Senator Janthi’s back was to Ilmarė. He was a short, round man, seated comfortably at an ornate table. Across from him was none other than Okpara val’Inares’ personal bodyguard, Jaleon. The object of their search rested on the table between them: Okpara’s imperial seal.

Janthi saw Jaleon’s eyes widen at the Elorii’s entrance. He stood abruptly and pointed at Jaleon. “You are a traitor to the Empire! This is a betrayal on every level!” He spun to face Ilmarė. “You must help me! I order the arrest of these men in the name of the Empire!”

Suddenly, Ilmarė realized that there were several armed men in the room.

“By Neroth’s breath, I’ll have your heart!” shouted Jaleon. He leaped across the table to attack Janthi.

Ilmarė dove to the ground and rolled in an attempt to grab the seal, but her timing was off. She ended up accidentally kicking the table over, separating the Senator from the traitor. For a brief moment, she was glad her two companions didn’t see her embarrassing blunder.

Then she desperately wished they were there as Jaleon’s blade nearly sliced her in two.

The aide ran screaming out of the room as Vlad swung through the secret door. He immediately engaged Jaleon, who battered him back with his gladius.

Dril entered next, only to duck as an arrow shivered in the wall where his head had been.

“There’s too many!” shouted Ilmarė, huddled behind the table with the Senator.

“I’ll fix that,” said Dril. He drew his scimitar and dagger and, with a shout, leaped over the table.

Ilmarė drew her bow and fired at the archer across the room. He was better armored than she.

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” said Ilmarė to the traitorous bodyguard.

“You have no proof,” said Janthi with a sneer. “Besides, it’s my word against yours.”

Vlad blocked Jaleon’s blade with his shield, but he was hard pressed to keep up with him. Jaleon was an experienced warrior.

“Go back to your canton, Milandisian,” said Jaleon through gritted teeth. “You’re no match for a Coryan legionnaire.”

There was a wail as Dril spun and skewered one of Jaleon’s henchmen with both of his blades. The man fell backwards even as another stepped forward.

“You’re a dead man,” said Vlad. “Even if you beat us, you’ll never make it out of the city alive.”

Jaleon easily parried Vlad’s blade with his gladius. “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “A senator’s seal can cover many sins. Senators are the real power here—although they’re all snakes anyway.” He shouted over Vlad’s shoulder. “I’m coming for you next, Janthi! Do you hear me?”

An arrow whistled towards Vlad, but it stopped dead in tracks a few inches from his shield and fell to the ground.

“Need reinforcements,” said Ilmarė. She called to Osalian for help…

His answer came in a glowing canine that flashed into the room. It immediately charged Jaleon.

An arrow pierced Dril’s shoulder and he spun to the ground.

Jaleon turned his shield to fend off the canine, giving Vlad enough time to back out of the bodyguard’s reach.

Ilmarė rose again to fire at the archer but a teeth-rattling blow knocked the wind out of her. She caught an image of one of the henchman raising his bloodied mace—her blood—over his head. Then everything went dim.

[talien]

The big man finally went down like the stupid bull that he was. Collectively, the elf, the Altherian, and the Milandisian had taken out two of Jaleon’s best men. Only his archer survived.

“Now,” said Jaleon, stalking towards the senator, “we have unfinished business.”

Janthi backpedaled across the floor. “I was only trying to throw them off the track—“

“Sarish’s ass!” cursed Jaleon. “You we’re trying to sell me out! And you have the gall to call me a traitor? I’ll show you what Coryan does to traitors!”

“Perhaps another time,” said Janthi as he reached for a slight depression in the wall.

“Shoot him!” shouted Jaleon to his archer.

The arrow only bounced off of the wall where the Senator had been moments before. He had used the secret door.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Jaleon. He looked around for the seal.

“The vigiles will be here any moment,” said the archer.

“I know, I’m looking for—ah!” He found it behind the table. “Let’s go, we can use this to buy us passage out of the city.”

Jaleon and his henchman jogged out of the Senator’s office.

A moment later, the wall swung back again. Janthi slunk over to Ilmarė’s unconscious form. Blood trickled from a wound at her temple.

The Senator put the back of his hand to her mouth. She was still breathing.

He pulled a dagger from its sheath at his belt. “Too bad they all died trying to defend me,” said Janthi. “A stab wound in the chest should speed this up.”

Janthi lifted up the dagger…

Only to freeze, horrified by what he saw on Ilmarė’s armor.

“The Yellow Sign!” he whispered to himself. Janthi’s eyes darted everywhere. He spotted it again on Dril’s boots. A check on his pulse indicated that the Altherian was still alive as well.

The Senator beat at his own temples with his fists. “Think, think! Can’t kill them, the Brotherhood will retaliate.” He looked down at Dril’s potion bandolier strapped across his chest. “Ah yes…one of these.”

The contents of a potion were poured into Dril’s lips until he sputtered awake. “Quickly!” said Janthi. “You can still catch him!”

He walked over to tend to Ilmarė. “I’ll take care of them. Go!”

Dril shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He rose unsteadily to his feet. “What…”

“Go!” shouted Janthi. Spurred by the Senator’s words, Dril stumbled out of the doorway into the street.

“And remember who saved you,” Janthi whispered to himself.

[talien]

Jaleon jogged down the street when he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him.

He pointed at Dril. “Stop them!” he snarled.

The archer turned and drew his bow.

Dril dove to the side and a man pushing a cart was skewered in the throat. He kept coming. “I owe you a death!” Dril shouted.

The archer fumbled to draw his blade, but not in time. Dril speared him with scimitar and dagger beneath his mail coat. Then he kept on running.

Jaleon looked over his shoulder. Dril was catching up. He turned back only to see two horses pulling a cart in front of him. He dove down into the muck and slid beneath it without missing a step.

Thanks to the power of the aranea’s boots, Dril cleared the wagon with one leap.

There were screams of dismay as Jaleon zigged and zagged down the street. He elbowed a pile of fruit into Dril’s path, but the Altherian easily cleared them. Then they passed Aljandros’ stall.

Aljandros was nowhere to be found. Jaleon grabbed a nearby torch, for night was nearly upon them, and lit the fabric of the merchant’s stall on fire. Then he kicked it, hard enough to top it over into the street.

Dril hesitated, only to have Ilmarė leap through the flames ahead of them, unharmed.

“The armor!” she shouted, thumping her torso once. She tore another piece of fabric from a nearby stall and beat the flames out before they could spread.

Vlad pounded past both of them just as Jaleon skidded to a halt. Vigiles had lined up with firehooks at the other end of the street. He ducked down an alley…

Only to stop at a dead end. Jaleon spun on his heel as Vlad advanced. He drew the dagger he purchased from Melosia. Jaleon was too well armored to fight with swords in such close quarters.

“Come on then!” he spat. “If I go down, I will take you with me!”

With a roar, the Milandisian barreled down the alleyway towards Jaleon. The two collided with a horrendous din of metal on metal. The impact was such that it backed Jaleon up against the crumbling wall.

“I know a legionnaire,” said Vlad, inches from Jaleon’s face. “And you’re no legionnaire.”

When they separated, Vlad’s dagger was slick with Jaleon’s blood. Jaleon’s pupils dilated as his life slipped away from him. Blood smeared against the wall behind him. His lips pulled into a rictus grin.

“Death before dishonor,” he whispered. Then Jaleon’s head slumped forward. His grip finally loosened on the seal. It rolled, with a hollow clatter, across the pavement until it hit Vlad’s boot. He picked it up before the vigiles arrived.

[Azgulor]

Great story hour! You seem to be blessed with a good group of players and you know how to tell a good story. You and your fellow DM also seem to handle the absence of some players and the introduction of new players very well. Any pointers? Handling those two occurences never go as smoothly for my campaigns as I'd like.

Again, great story hour. Keep 'em coming please.

Azgulor

[talien]

Hi Azgulor,

There are a variety of factors that help make things go smoothly. I often think of better reasons for why characters aren't there for the story hour (as opposed to just before the game). Here's a few things that I think contribute to keeping the story moving without getting too tripped up by the character appearances/disappearances:

1) Know who your core players are. There are three consistent characters: Vlad, Ilmare, and Kham. Ilmare is played by my wife, so I pretty much know when she'll be around. Vlad is played by a coworker, so we're in constant contact. And finally, Kham is played by an old friend who really likes to play D&D and is happy to travel to a game if need be. I focus the plots on these three characters most of the time, thus ensuring that the other characters who come and go aren't missed too much.

2) There are always good excuses for PCs to not adventure. Really, it seems like all heroes do is run around being heroes. So I use these absences as reminders that life sometimes life isn't all monster-killing and treasure-grabbing. Sometimes this is just a basic duty, like Quintus having to serve as a legionnaire and Vlad serving Duke Adolphos val'Tensen as a bailiff. But other times it's tragedy or, my personal favorite, "recovering from really bad wounds". You'll see this happen a bunch going in the upcoming story hours:
* Catching a disease and falling ill while the PCs try to find the cure.
* Getting "hurt real bad" and spending time recovering in a secret location so that said PC is not assassinated.
* Being kidnapped by a cult (this has happened to two different characters now), sometimes for weeks at a time.
* Imprisoned. *COUGH* Kham! * COUGH*
* Working on the creation of a new magic item.
* Doing research on an esoteric subject.
* Investigating bad guy activity on their own.

3) The adventures are Living Arcanis RPGA adventures. They're meant to be played in the span of four hours or less and thus go quickly. This means that PCs are never so committed to an area (like say, a dungeon) that they can't get out of it. We're planning adventures in other dimensions and such that will make PC comings and goings harder.

As for new players, having a well-defined world really helps. We don't have too many crazy anomalies...there's no minotaur fighters showing up in the world that I have to explain. Probably the most fantastic/strange is Bijoux, who is literally one of a kind (a flying catfolk race that came from one of the first Living Arcanis adventures) and Calactyte, a big lizardfolk. Both of those characters sometimes have difficulty fitting in, especially the horror-themed adventures; it's hard to be scary when you've got a big scaly superhero beating up bad guys. On the other hand, they are both intricately tied to the world; lizardfolk are considered a menace in most parts of Arcanis and Bijoux is a representative of a world that fought the Unspeakable One and failed. So even the anomalous characters serve a purpose.

Of course, we haven't had a new character join since Dril. Dril fit in easily enough because he was a character that made sense in Arcanis: he's an urban ranger/rogue who serves in the Shining Patrol, hates ss'ressen and lizardfolk, and is from Altheria. Which means he's got ready made conflict (wait til Dril meets Cal!), an allegiance to a homeland, and plenty of motivation to help people out.

And of course it helps that I have a great bunch of players who are generally all interested in party unity. The story hours help reinforce that, elaborating on each character's background and history while at the same time encouraging them to do things that "fit the story." I should point out that all the players are intensely aware of this story hour and want all the moments to "look good in it." It's almost like they're on a reality show, so that definitely helps people get along.

Thanks for your comments! It's good to know someone's reading this story hour.

[talien]

They returned to Senator Okpara val’Inares’ villa and were led into his personal office. Upon seeing them enter, he quickly concluded his business and bid his guests farewell.

“Tell me,” he said anxiously, “how did you fare?”

“We have retrieved the item, as you requested,” said Dril, handing it to Okpara in a wooden box. “It was no small task.”

Okpara popped the box open. The tension drained out of his shoulders as he looked upon the seal. The golden glow of the seal on the Senator’s face cast him as some wicked incarnation of avarice.

“Well done!” he said. “Quintus’ faith in you was well-placed! Who stole it? Was it the farmer?”

Dril shook his head. “You did not pay us to discover who the thief was, only to retrieve it.”

“Indeed, I did not,” said Okpara, turning back towards his desk.

Vlad cleared his throat. “About that payment.”

“This is one reward I will gladly pay,” said Okpara. He passed over a few small leather bags, but kept his hand on them. “Your discretion in this matter must be inviolate.”

“Of course,” said Dril. He took the bags and tossed two of them to Vlad and Ilmarė.

“One other thing,” said Okpara. “I would like to send you on a brief vacation.”

Ilmarė paused in counting the Imperials. “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all,” chuckled Okpara. “But given the nature of your pursuit, I think it’s best if you leave town for awhile. I have a friend, Gaius Phillipus, who owns a villa in Vestalanium.”

“Never heard of it,” said Vlad.

Okpara’s stared at him for a moment. “Of course you wouldn’t. It’s one of the most exclusive of all Coryani resort towns, nestled along the Corvis River. I’m sure adventurers such as yourselves would enjoy such an opportunity to get away from the bustle of the city.”

Ilmarė stretched, rubbing the back of her neck. “It would be nice to get away from it all.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Okpara. “Please gather your things immediately. The river barge leaves tomorrow.”

As they walked out of Okpara’s office, Dril looked back over his shoulder. “Why do I get the feeling we never had a choice in the first place?”

“We didn’t exactly succeed in our mission,” said Ilmarė. “That was a very public chase. People died. Goods were destroyed.”

“Speaking of goods,” said Vlad, “Aljandros wasn’t at his stall and hasn’t been back to claim it, or what’s left of it. It seems he packed up and left town.”

“I’m sure he did,” said Dril. “Perhaps the vacation isn’t such a bad idea after all. He may have been just a fabric merchant, but Aljandros knew what he was doing.”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow. “He was a liar, and a thief. You sound like you almost admire him.”

“True,” said Dril. “But even with the Cafelan Cartel, senators, and legionnaires nipping at his heels, he was sure to deliver my rug before he left town.”

[Thanediel]

Originally Posted by talien

The adventures are Living Arcanis RPGA adventures. They're meant to be played in the span of four hours or less and thus go quickly. This means that PCs are never so committed to an area (like say, a dungeon) that they can't get out of it. We're planning adventures in other dimensions and such that will make PC comings and goings harder.

Call me curious but I've noticed that some of your adventures involve only 3 PC. Aren't RPGA-LA modules for 4 PC minimum?

Or are you running LA modules in a home campaign?

[talien]

That's correct, these are all home games. We often tweak the adventures as well so they are more relevant to the PC situations, so I've changed last names or even swapped out NPCs when it makes sense.

We've also played a few LA games with too many PCs, which is...interesting. As you saw in Senator's Seal, when you play with too few PCs it can get sticky. I should have adjusted the APL down but didn't. On the other hand, the best part of LA games is you can adjust on the fly, so if a party is too powerful or weak, you just go up or down an APL.

[talien]

This adventure, "Deus Ex Machina," is a free download from Green Ronin’s Focus on Freeport page, written by Jeff Quick and set in the Freeport setting. You can download it at: http://www.greenronin.com/freeportfocus.shtml. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

· Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
· Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
· Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net

This adventure is a lot of fun, but it had several challenges for me as a DM. For one, the original plot is all over the place. I won’t go into the details, but it involves a humorous plan by a trickster deity and his minions. This is all fine and good, but the adventure hook wasn’t strong enough to make anyone want to get involved, so I changed it dramatically.

I changed all the clerics of the trickster god became cultists of the Unspeakable One. This doesn’t change a whole lot other than to make them bad guys who are out to steal something for a cause, as opposed to kleptomaniacs who think it’s funny.

For another, I changed the final construct at the end to something tied to the Unspeakable One. In this case, the adventure involves a short story by John Tynes set in Carcossa, titled “Ambrose.” Check it out at: http://members.fortunecity.com/johnsilence/ambrose.htm. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time to have the players read the short story. I summarized, but that didn’t really make the connections stand out in the players’ minds, so I really had to make it obvious by the end of the adventure (or face TPK due to my poor explanation).

Finally, the protagonists in this adventure originally had taken over a temple dedicated to the God of Retribution. In the Arcanis setting, I changed this to Illiir. Two clerics go in to the temple to take care of business, and one of them should sound familiar. This will explain where that PC was for the past three adventures.

This is also the first time I’ve moved an adventure out of order for purposes of the story. Technically, we played this the weekend after we played “As Cold and Gray as Stone.” Since “Deus Ex Machina” doesn’t change the campaign drastically except to explain a character’s disappearance, it fits in nicely.

P.S. The Killing Joke is one of my favorite comics.