Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Here, the beginning of Chapter Three, for your enjoyment.
Chapter 3 – Row, Row, Row Your Boat…
The trial was short. The judge was a red-bearded priest of Ulric, with a great warhammer he used as a gavel. The merchant noble family of Dzugashvili wanted the party's heads, for the assault upon the young Liut. It was soon pointed out that they acted only in self-defence, and actually healed the man after wounding him. Both Khuritsa and Predeslava spoke for the adventurers, praising their honour and valiant deeds, and saying that Liut himself had been at fault, for attacking them.
In the end, the judge banged his great warhammer, and gave his verdict: the adventurers were banished from Kislev for twenty years, and were to be escorted to the border by a man named Khaelas. As it turned out, he was a wood elf, clad in green, and claiming to wield sorcerous powers.
By the end of the day, they were well on their way up the river Lynsk, in a small, leaky wooden barge, captained by a greasy man of impressive girth. Kase calculated that if they were to chuck him overboard, not only would the boat travel faster, but the river would flood, and with all that fat, the man would float. However, as they found no way of lifting the fellow, let alone extracting him from his cabin, they resigned to their fate of spending the next week watching the idyllic and monotonous Kislevite countryside slip by as the barge ponderously made its way downstream in the slow-moving water.
During the voyage, it quickly became clear that Khaelas couldn't have cared less about his duty. He'd got his gold already, and was to leave country along with the heroes. He was also an adventurer who'd had disagreements with the law, after some irresponsible spellcasting.
As they sat in the boat, day after day, confined to the company of each other, and forced to listen to Fisibbei teaching Kase how to speak Reikspiel, tensions began to rise. Franz was irritated at the two elves, for being elves, and at the world as a whole, for getting him exiled of Kislev, where he was on a mission from the church.
The barge's skipper didn't help things. He was rude, smelly, and made constantly fun of the elves and Franz. The corpulent man was so large he could barely fit inside the small cabin where he steered the barge, and apparently was unable to leave it. Huge, drooping folds of flesh concealed his legs.
All that considered, it wasn't such a surprise when Franz got it in his head that the man was tainted by Chaos.
They were a day away from their destination, when the Sigmarite decided to take action. With great protest from the captain, Franz smashed apart the cabin that held him. The others were too afraid to stop him. Immediately, like a huge glob of jam, the captain's flesh expanded out of its constraints. It was as if he had no muscles or bones at all. Now, thoroughly disgusted, the others joined in, and with a great wail, the strange, jelly-like man was hurled overboard, to disappear into the black waters of Lynsk.
The next day, they arrived in Erengrad. The great port city was bustling with traders from the Empire, Marienburg, Estalia, Tilea, and even Araby, all peddling their various wares. As the five adventurers were jumping to the pier, a great tendril of flesh shout out from the water, wrapping itself around Khaelas' leg. The elf cried out in pain as he was violently yanked from the pier to the barge.
Fisibbei was the fastest to act, taking his sickle and jumping down in aid of the elf to hack at the strange tentacle. As the weapon drew blood, the creature rose out of the water. It was their former captain, now grey-skinned and looking like a drowned corpse. Yet, it was still very much alive, as proved by the wicked grin and red-glowing eyes. It formed its fleshy body into more tendrils, attacking the halfling druid, who was quick to dance out of the way. From the pier, Kase was shooting arrows at the creature. Franz and Frederich joined their comrades in the boat, bringing their weapons down on the creature's body, prompting a great scream of pain. The creature still had fight left in it, though, and it hauled its entire body on the barge.
Repulsed by the creature, Khaelas cut off the tendril holding his leg, and scrambled away. Fisibbei and the others stabbed it again and again, and the deck ran red with the unholy creature's blood. However, the fleshy mass of the creature was still coming forward, forcing the heroes to jump back to the pier, all the while fighting off the pseudopods trying to snare their limbs. Finally, it was Khaelas who brought about the creature's death. He flung a ceramic jar from his backpack at the barge. It shattered, spraying the creature and the deck with black fluid. Oil, the creature realized, but too late. A jet of flame burst from the elf's hands, and the liquid caught fire, prompting another scream from the Chaos-tainted captain.
Soon, the barge was a blazing inferno, and the smell of smoke and charred flesh filled the air. The adventurers, along with the crowd of onlookers they had managed to collect, watched the grim bonfire, departing only when the last the boat had sunk in the deep waters of Erengrad's harbour.
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Great story hour! The writing really sets this apart from many story hours which have failed to hook me despite otherwise interesting content. In the end, it is the writing style that really grabs me. This one is particularly well written. NiTessine, I notice you live in Finland, is that correct? Is English your first language? If not, then your work here is even more impressive. Please keep it up, I'm hooked.
Last edited by Jodo Kast; 27th August 2002 at 03:48 AM..
Originally posted by Jodo Kast Great story hour! The writing really sets this apart from many story hours which have failed to hook me despite otherwise interesting content. In the end, it is the writing style that really grabs me. This one is particularly well written. NiTessine, I notice you live in Finland, is that correct? Is English your first language? If not, then your work here is even more impressive. Please keep it up, I'm hooked.
Yeah, I live in Finland... And English is my second language, learned at an early age due to the corruptive influence of TV and video games... :rolleyes:
*Goes back to writing the next installment.*
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'Ere you go... Chapter III, part II. I have lots of biology and geography classes during the next month or so, so I should have lots of time to write...
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Despite their escort's indifference to whether they were going to leave Kislev or not, the party soon began seeking passage aboard a ship bound for the Empire. After a few hours of touring the waterfront taverns and buying people cheap ale, they found the captain of such a vessel, in one of the better inns of the area, where the ale wasn't quite so watery, and the rats were fatter.
The captain, Hans Versenkung, was a portly man, with the strange accent that seems to develop to all who spend long times at the sea, regardless of where they actually grew up, and a great, bushy white beard. He regarded the adventurers thoughtfully for a moment, and then said:
"The price of tickets be ten gold, each. If ye can 'elp us fight 'gainst pirates or monsters, ye'll get yer coin back when we reach Marienburg."
It was a deal.
The captain's ship was a small and fast merchant vessel, with the name Das Minnow written on its side in bright red paint. After the party of five had taken their heavy backpacks and cumbersome armour to their cabins they soon found themselves in the dining hall of the ship. Since the ship was primarily a mercantile one, it rarely carried passengers, and the hall was almost empty, with the notable exception of a large noble family occupying the long table in the middle of the hall. They were a noisy and boisterous bunch, and were already deep in their cups. Frederich and Franz could identify quite a few popular drinking songs from the taverns of Nuln and Altdorf. The remains of two large pheasants were lying on their silver platters.
Kase, in his heavily accented Reikspiel, inquired about the noblemen from the cook, who supplied him with much information on them. It was the Von Hedon family, he knew, from Nuln. It was the entire family, apparently, every member of it, right down to the house priest, the jester, and their own halfling cook, returning from Kislev where they'd spent a holiday.
The adventurers quietly finished their fish stew, and then retired for the night, to the three cabins assigned to them, on the second deck. Kase and Khaleas took one, and Fisibbei and Frederich the second. Franz was quite vehement on sleeping alone.
It was good to sleep in a proper bed, after long weeks of bedding down with blankets in forests and waking up stiff and sore after a night spent on the deck of a riverboat. It was nothing compared to Khuritsa's silken linens, but compared to the other places they'd spent nights lately, it was a definite improvement. They were determined to enjoy their night's sleep.
Hence, it should've come as no surprise when a shrill cry cut the night after less than two hours afterwards. Running feet were heard in the hallway, and a woman's voice cried:
"He's been murdered!"
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Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip
That started down in Kislev
Aboard this tiny ship
Aboard this tiny ship
The cook was a half-pint halfling
The skipper portly as a friar
Five passengers set sail that day
Bound for the Empire
Bound for the Empire
The weather started getting rough
The tiny ship was tossed
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
Das Minnow would be lost
Das Minnow would be lost
The ship set down on the shore of this
Chaos infested desert isle
With Franz Hoffman, Frederich too
The halfling, and his wolf
Kase the elf
And Khaelas the sorceror
Are here on Hoffman's Isle!
Sorry, couldn't resist.
Last edited by Jodo Kast; 31st August 2002 at 05:47 PM..
And the final installment of Chapter III! Sorry for taking so long with it.
---------------------------
The five adventurers burst from their cabins. As they soon ascertained, the source of the cry was one of the nobles, Marya von Hedon.
"Hans is dead!" she cried as she ran down the hallway, her eyes large with terror. Franz grasped the woman by the arm, and after some vigorous shaking and demanding questions, calmed her down enough to get her to lead them to the body.
The cabin was a large one, almost opulent, with carpets on the floors and a great bed, with silken sheets. On the bed lay the late Hans von Hedon, his eyes bulging out and black tongue jutting from his mouth, leaking green drool. There was a greenish cast to his pale skin.
"Poison," Fisibbei said, after a mere glance at the body. "And not any natural one, either. Alchemical one, I'm thinking, and a strong one at that."
* * *
An hour later they were in the captain's office. The white-bearded man was pacing back and forth in front of them.
"This be a really filthy piece of business, this is," he spoke. "There's me reputation as a skipper at stake, here."
He turned to look at the adventurers.
"I want ye to find that scurvy dog who did this afore we reach Marienburg. Ye'll be well paid, and I think the lords high and mighty have a few crowns in it fer ye, too. 'Less they killed the man themselves, that is." Versenkung barked a bitter laugh, and waved them out of his office.
And so, the investigations started. Franz assumed a leadership position so naturally that nobody thought to even question him. They began to work immediately, as they were only four days from Marienburg. Franz took it upon himself to do the interrogations, as he'd worked with a troop of witch hunters in his earlier days, and picked up a few things on how to get people to admit things. Frederich went off to question the guards and the sailors. Fisibbei, Kase, and Khaelas rummaged through the room, searching for clues.
Lady Marya was not very forthcoming with information. Waking up in the middle of the night to a strange smell, and finding her husband's face, contorted in agony next to him had been a rather shocking experience. Lady Marya's mother-in-law, the matronly Gertrud von Hedon was vehemently opposed to Franz's interrogation, and had to be forcibly removed from the room by the cleric.
In the end, Franz gleaned little from the woman. Hans and Marya had retired for the night soon after the adventurers. They'd slept peacefully for a while, and then Marya had awoken to a sharp smell. After that, she'd woken up the ship with her screams of terror.
* * *
Frederich's inquiries with the ship's crew and the nobles' guards were marginally more fruitful. One of the deck guards mentioned he'd heard a splash from the poop deck's direction, but when he'd gone to investigate, he'd seen nothing. One of the guard who'd patrolled on the lower decks had thought he'd heard steps in the shadows, but had seen nothing.
Fisibbei and the elves worked hard in the room, investigating the different manners Lord von Hedon might have been poisoned. They scraped lint off the carpet, went through the sheets with a fine comb, analysed the strange grease found on the doorknob, individually opened and tested each and every bottle and jar in Lady Marya's cosmetics chest, and even darkened the room to see if there were any cracks in the ceiling or walls. In the end, they came up with nothing. Kase tried to analyse the drool from Hans' body, but could not divine anything from it. They came to the inevitable conclusion that Hans had been poisoned at the dinner table. And that meant the guilt lay upon to shoulders of one of his kinsmen.
* * *
Franz, knowing that inquiring about the family's internal matters from the adult family members would only alert them to the fact that he knew something, requested permission to have a friendly little chat with Lisette, the eight-year-old daughter of Henrik von Hedon, Hans' brother. They were given an hour.
Franz sat on the chair opposite the little girl. She was dressed in noble finery, just a smaller version of what her mother wore. She also wore makeup, and her hair had been carefully plaited. The priest thought she looked rather like a porcelain doll. After regarding the girl for a moment with a friendly smile, he raised up the small hammer that hung on a silver chain around his neck.
"You know what this is?" he asked.
"Yes. That is the symbol of Sigmar, the god. Our priest, Father Ulrich has one, too," the girl replied in the clipped accent of the Empire's upper class.
"Good. I am also a priest, like Father Ulrich. I am Father Franz. Now, I am going to ask you some questions about your family. You should answer truthfully. Father Ulrich has told you what happens to those who lie, hasn't he?"
"Yes. Father Ulrich says liars burn in the fires of hell. I never lie."
"Good, very good… Now… Who were in the table at the dinner last night?"
"It was mom and dad, Uncle Hans and Aunt Marya, Uncle Bocher, Grandfather Adolf and Grandmother Gertrud, and Father Ulrich. Oh, and Canio. He's a bard, from Tilea. He's funny." The girl giggled.
"And who sat next to Hans?" Franz continued.
"Aunt Marya, and Uncle Bocher. Father Ulrich was sitting opposite to him."
"What did you all eat and drink, by the way?"
"Pheasant. The adults drank wine and I and little Peter drank water."
"How many bottles of wine were there in the table?"
"Many. All except Uncle Hans' Bretonnian wine were from our own yards."
"Bretonnian wine?"
"Yes… Uncle Hans does not like the wine of our yards, so he drinks Bretonnian. Uncle Bocher and Uncle Hans had a fight over it a long time ago, when he insulted our vintners."
"Did anyone else drink the Bretonnian wine?"
"No, I don't think so. Father Ulrich might have. He likes it, too."
"Hmm… Thank you, Lisette… You have been a great help. You may go."
The girl smiled, curtsied, and left. Franz departed soon after in a great hurry, to tell his comrades.
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Okay, I am terribly sorry about the recent lack of updates. Real life interfered in the form of the exams week, which was a rather grueling experience. But, today is the last exam, and I have tomorrow off, so an update will be showing up soon. And for real, this time. I promise.
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With the information Franz had gleaned from the little girl, the five adventurers were certain that Bocher von Hedon was somehow involved with the death of his brother. They needed further proof, however, as accusing one of the Empire's nobility of murder with merely circumstantial evidence was a rather quick way to the gallows. So, they devised a plan.
Fisibbei was the nimblest among them, and natural inclination towards larceny ran in his very blood. Thus, it was determined he would do the deed itself. When Bocher and his wife left their cabin for dinner, they were followed soon after by Khaelas, who sat in a table near the door keeping an eye on them. Kase and Fisibbei went to the empty cabin. Kase stood watch outside, while Fisibbei picked the lock and rummaged through the room.
When the von Hedons would rise from their table, so would Khaelas, who'd then run to the cabin and signal Kase to knock on the door, letting Fisibbei know it's time to split.
The lock on the door was a cheap piece of work and did not take long to pick. It clicked, and the halfling eased the door open gently, avoiding making noise. He slipped inside.
The cabin was much like Hans' in that it was richly decorated, and much larger than the small, bare rooms the adventurers were using. A large bed stood against one wall, flanked by a massive, forbidding wardrobe. The floor was covered by a thick carpet. Kislevite, the halfling decided after a moment. But he wasn't here to admire the furniture.
Armed with several spells to detect toxins, poisons, and venoms, Fisibbei examined Lady Elsa von Hedon's cosmetics box, as well as the several bottles of dwarven ale and wine from the von Hedon vintners that stood next to the bed. As he knelt to examine the bottles closer, he happened to glance under the bed. Of course, too obvious.
Carefully, the druid-turned-burglar drew the heavy ironwood box from under the bed. It was reinforced with steel bands, and bore three locks.
"Well, well," the halfling murmured as he examined the locks. Untrapped, at least by any conventional methods. Still, one could never bee too careful. Fisibbei grasped the small root hanging from his neck, and touched the box with it, murmuring words in Druidic. A verdant glow shimmered around the root, and disappeared. No magical traps, either. Too easy, he thought. Carefully, he began examination of the locks, feeling the insides with his picks, locating the tumblers, counting their number and noting their shapes.
After twenty minutes of work, all three locks were undone. As it happened, they had been identical. How foolish. Smiling faintly, the halfling moved on top of the bed, and carefully lifted the lid, with two fingers, pressing on the wooden parts. The metallic ones could be charged with electricity. No poison darts flew out at the opposite wall, nor did a deadly viper strike out. Copious amounts of deadly spiders also failed to manifest. Breathing a sigh of relief, the halfling moved to examine the box's contents closer.
The strongbox contained several pouches of gold coins, a large tome bound in black leather, and a pair of small amulets on silver strings. They were identical, and strange in shape. Fisibbei pocketed them. Then he opened the book. It was written in no language he knew, and used a most singular set of alphabets. The characters had strange forms. They were twisted, and shaped most obscenely. Fisibbei snapped the book shut, disgusted by the odd script. He stowed the book away in his backpack, shut and locked the box, and pushed it gently back under the bed. After quickly making sure the room was in proper order, he departed.
* * *
It was much later that they met in Franz's cabin to discuss the strange items Fisibbei had found. The Sigmarite's only reaction to the news they'd been stolen was a shrug.
"Ends justify the means," he said. "Now show me that book."
None of them could read the book. Kase actually felt ill after leafing through for but a moment.
"Unholy texts of Chaos, I'm betting," Fisibbei muttered.
"Perhaps we should show this to Brother Ulrick," Franz suggested.
"Perhaps, but he might be in league with the murderer," the druid countered.
"I doubt that. I spoke with him, and he is a good man. I say we take the book to him," Franz replied, the steely edge of resolution creeping in his voice.
And so they did. The cleric was not at all pleased with being bothered after he'd just gone to bed, but agreed to take a look at the tome when he noted their urgency.
"You were right to bring this to me," he said after reading a few pages. "It is a fell tome dedicated to the Chaos gods."
The priest looked at them, his chiselled face pale, and his expression grave.
"I must request that you relinquish this to me, so that I can have it destroyed and purified once we reach Marienburg. How did you come upon this?"
"It was among the possessions of Bocher von Hedon," Fisibbei replied.
The priest was taken aback.
"Lord Bocher's? Are you certain?"
"Positive."
"This is a grave matter indeed. That one of the most upstanding nobles I have met be a follower of the Dark Gods… But we cannot take action yet. We do not know his power. It is too dangerous to confront him on this ship."
The priest took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. Then he continued.
"We will do this… Wait until we get to Marienburg, and contact the local temple of Sigmar, and the authorities. With their help, even the most terrible powers he may summon should be countered."
They discussed the plan at length that night, and when the adventurers departed Ulrick's cabin, fear gnawed at their minds. Two days in the same ship with a Slaaneshi cultist, possibly more. What long days those were going to be.
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Very cool update. The ship ride from Hell... And hey, they're visiting my turf. We've been in Marienburg a long, long time. Come on down to the Suidock, we'll show you around (after your purse is lifted, of course).
...
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