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

Death in Freeport - Part 12: Initiation Chamber

Kham ran down the hallway and threw open the nearest double doors. In his feverish mind, putting as many barriers between him and Milos was paramount. The doors seemed like a good place to start.

Within the octagonal chamber, the entire room was painted black. The ceiling shimmered with stars like the sky at night. There was a circular depression in the center of the room, some ten feet deep. On the far wall was a sturdy table covered with ritual paraphernalia: a gong, incense burners, two candelabras, and some other items he couldn’t make out. No one was in sight.

And just as suddenly, the terror wore off.

Kham straightened and smoothed his jacket. Running from a cultist was understandable, but running from a lisping idiot like Milos was unforgivable. He would be sure to let the ladies have a chat with Milos, Altherian-style.

Then he remembered his bladder. The fear had nearly caused him to wet his pants.

“So Lucius violated an inner sanctum of Althares,” said Kham with a smirk. He unbuttoned his pants. “Well, Milos, let’s see what your ‘Unthpeakable One’ thinks of this!”

And with that, he peed on the altar, the gong, the incense burners, one of the candelabras, and anything else in range.

When he was finished relieving himself, Kham buttoned his pants back up. He turned to go…

Above him, the stars seemed to twinkle as if they really were the night sky. Then he felt a presence—and the circular depression erupted with yellow tentacles.

One look at them confirmed Kham’s worst fears. He was staring at the Unspeakable One itself, and his bleary, tired, and more than a little hung over mind was in no shape to stare into the blasted abyss. With a shout, he ran screaming from the room.

Death in Freeport - Conclusion

“So everybody lives happily ever after, right?”

Kham was already halfway through a bottle of wine at the Pale Plate.

“Apparently, Milos sent Lucius on an errand to that Pit,” said Dril. “Milos tortured him, asking questions after question about his memories and nightmares.”

“When a cult like that takes an interest in you, it’s never a good thing,” said Vlad.

“No, it isn’t,” said Dril. “I’m going to keep an eye on Lucius. I don’t trust him.”

Ilmarė nodded. “And I will monitor the priests of Althares,” she said grimly. “It would be like the ssanu to use your false gods as a front for their cult.”

“You two do that,” said Kham. “I uh, have to leave town for awhile.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the bounty on your head, would it?”

“Which one?” asked Kham. “I’m starting to lose track. What about you, Vlad?”

Vlad shrugged. “I’ll go where the money is.”

“Speaking of which,” said Dril, “I thought Brother Egil said all priests of Althares take a vow of poverty.”

“So?” asked Vlad.

“Then where,” asked Dril, staring out the window at the docks, “did he get the money to pay us?”

Holiday in the Sun - Introduction

This is a free adventure that takes place in Freeport, written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can download the adventure at: http://64.17.155.164/gr_files/focus05a.pdf. 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.

This short adventure focuses on a pirate captain, so it wasn’t much of a leap to flesh out Baldric’s personality a bit more and give him something else to do besides chew scenery and make people sing sea chanties. I also made some tweaks to tie it into the overall plot of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. Even though it’s a short adventure, everyone had their chance to do their part—Dril especially, being that he’s the “urban guy.”

I got to use quite a few props, as you’ll see in the pictures. I also increased the hit dice of the main bad guy at the end considerably, but the poor monster (who doesn’t even have a name!) still had a rough time of it. And oh yeah, the reason the dire rat is so huge is…well, because I don’t have a mini that matches the size of your usual dire rat, so I beefed it up considerably.

Holiday in the Sun - Part 1: A Knife in the Back

It was a bright and sunny day in the city of Freeport. The city was abuzz with activity because it was Swagfest, one of the city’s most important holidays. Celebrating the Great Raid of Sea Lords Drac and Francisco, in which the fleet of Freeport terrorized the maritime nations for three months and brought back loads of booty, Swagfest was a daylong party that shut the city down with revelry.

Dril shook his head as he entered the Pale Plate, exchanging glances with Ilmarė. “No luck,” he said.

The beautiful elorii sighed. “I lost track of the librarian as well,” she said. “I don’t know how we could lose them so quickly.”

“Not that hard,” said Vlad as Dril pulled up a chair. “The city’s so crowded, I’m lucky I was able to find my way here.”

“There’s not much to do,” said Dril, “besides wait until Swagfest’s over. Maybe Lucius and Egil will show up drunk somewhere.”

“Captain Baldric’s launching Swagfest in a few minutes,” said Ilmarė with a grimace. “If you think it’s crowded now, just wait until he gets going.”

“We may as well see what Baldric’s up to,” said Vlad. Out the window, Vlad could see Baldric standing on a temporary stage near a long pier.

“As long as he doesn’t try to make me sing anything,” muttered Dril.

“Seems the Captain has his eyes on something more than music,” said Ilmarė. “I hear he’s pushing for a seat on the Captain’s Council.”

Vlad got up and walked to the door. “That explains why he’s suddenly so excited about Swagfest.”

“You two go on ahead,” said Dril. “I’m going to try to get a better view from the docks.” He weaved his way into the crowd and disappeared.

Ilmarė joined Vlad as a trumpet sounded. Captain Baldric, a big fellow with long scraggly hair and an eye patch, stepped forward.

Baldric raised his hands to address the crowd. “Arrr, mateys, an' welcome t' Swagfest! 't be me honor t' begin th' festivities this voyage. As ye well know, Sea Lord Drac be busy wi' his lighthouse, so 't falls on yer humble cap’n t' take this duty. Be ye ready fer plunder an' pillage?”

The crowd roared its approval. Ilmarė rolled her eyes.

“I said, BE YE READY FER PLUNDER AN' PILLAGE?”

The crowd shouted even louder, and this time Vlad hooted along with them. Ilmarė glared at him.

“Two bucketfull o' voyages ago,” shouted Captain Baldric, ” th' fleet o' Freeport first tookst t' th' waves. Two mighty captains had we, an' th' landlubbers shuddered as th' captains gave ‘em fire an' Freeport steel!”

“What was that?” asked Ilmarė.

“What?” Vlad asked back. The din of the crowd was so loud that he couldn’t understand her.

“I saw someone slip towards the rear of the stage,” said Ilmarė.

“What?” shouted Vlad, louder this time.

“I said,” Ilmarė shouted back, “I think there’s someone on the stage!”

“You mean Baldric?” asked Vlad.

“No,” said Ilmarė. She pointed at the stage in exasperation.

Just then, Dril whistled past them. “Assassin!” he snarled, scimitar and dagger out.

The crowd parted like water before Dril, but it was too late. A cloaked woman stepped out from the curtain and stabbed Baldric in the back. He went down, hard.

Screams erupted as panic gripped the gathered masses of pirates, sailors, and common folk. Vlad lifted his heavy crossbow off of his back. It automatically loaded itself with a bolt as he took aim.

Ilmarė’s bow was out in a flash, but the crowd jostled her, ruining her shot.

Dril slashed at the assassin’s legs. She hopped easily over his swipe. Then she took a few steps backwards.

Ilmarė gave up trying to draw her bow. “She’s going to—“

The assassin launched herself into the air, clearing the ten feet from the pier to the water. With the skill of an accomplished diver, she plunged gracefully into the water with barely a splash.

“Jump,” finished Ilmarė.

“Wish I could jump like that,” said Dril.

Ilmarė struggled to get to the stage. She threw up her hands in disgust. “Vlad?”

The big man took his shield off of his back. “OUT OF THE WAY!” bellowed Vlad. Then he rammed forward, abruptly sweeping men and women to the side.

Ilmarė finally made it to the stage, where Baldric lay face down in an expanding pool of his own blood.

Dril stood over the fallen captain. “He’s hurt,” he said. “Bad.”

The elorii waved him off. She put her hands on the Captain’s coat and whispered something to the spirits of the sea.

There was a low groan. Then Baldric struggled to his feet. Dril helped him up.

“Now then, 'ere be I…” said the Captain, scanning the milling crowd.

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė. “Someone just tried to assassinate you!”

“Do you have any enemies that would want you dead?” asked Dril.

“Now I wouldn’t be a very good seafarin' hearty if I didn’t be havin' any enemies who wanted me dead,” said Baldric with a sneer. “Besides, 't’s nay like I haven’t been stabbed in th' aft before. Thank ye fer savin' an old salt.” He winked at Ilmarė. “I always spake ye be me lucky charm.”

Baldric harangued the crowd into coming back. “Thar be ten kegs o' grog headin' this way, if only ye`ll stay!”

With that, everyone calmed down and returned.

“Stand by me an' we’ll be havin' a fine tide yet,” Baldric said to Dril. Then he turned back to the crowd. “Francisco be nay th' only cap’n wi' a knife in his aft,” joked Baldric. “Now, while we wait fer th' grog, let Swagfest commence!”

Ilmarė shook her head in disbelief. “Stupid humans.”

Holiday in the Sun - Part 2: Fun for Everyone

“As ye all know, th' Great Raid did Freeport proud,” said Baldric. “An' nay shipmate did more than One-eyed Jack. Lashed t' th' mast o' Cap’n Drac’s flagship durin' a storm, he fought off o'er a dozen fishmen o' th' deep wi' only a belayin' pin. Truly a salt t' be reckoned wi'. Now, be ye ready fer One-eyed Jack’s Stand?”

The crowd once again roared its approval. Captain Baldric made his way to the scene of the first event and he motioned to Vlad to follow him. A short distance away was a circle of packed earth with a large stone obelisk at its center. A rope dangled from the top of the obelisk.

“An' me good matey Vlad will go first. Let’s give th' lad a hand!”

Vlad blinked and looked around in surprise. “Wait…what?”

“Th' rules o' th' game be simple,” Baldric continued. “Contestants take th' role o' One-eyed Jack. Ye be tethered t' th' pole wi' th' rope an' get a club. A dozen jacks play th' fishmen an' they be armed wi' harpoons. Th' fishmen attack One-eyed Jack until they be all defeated or Jack be unconscious.”

“Real harpoons?” asked Dril, watching the crowd.

Ilmarė shook her heard. “The club’s padded. The harpoons are just padded staves.” She rubbed her forehead. “Osalian help us, I didn’t think it was possible, but Swagfest is even more ridiculous than the Saturnalia in Sweet Savona.”

“Th' contestant that defeats th' most fishmen wins,” shouted Baldric to the crowd. “Anyone that defeats all twelve fishmen wins automatically. Anyone that takes off th' tether automatically loses. Be ye ready Vlad?”

Vlad was still in his full plate armor, the armor that had once belonged to a Nierite. It was painted over black, but the red shown through in places where a blow had connected. The overall effect was that Vlad’s armor appeared to suffer from a series of jagged wounds.

Vlad dutifully tied the tether about his ankle. After hoisting a padded club and his wooden shield, he nodded at Baldric. “I’m ready.”

“Begin!” shouted Baldric.

They all came at him at once. Vlad whirled and cleared a path as several staves crashed down from above, from below, from all sides.

WHAM! He connected with an upward swing. Teeth and spittle shot into the air and a sailor was out cold.

The crowd cheered. “That’s one!” shouted Baldric.

Vlad shoved one of the sailors off of him with his shield, but another immediately filled the hole. The big Milandisian lurched forward and struck another sailor along the side of his head. The man stumbled backwards into the dirt.

“That’s two!” shouted Baldric. The crowd hooted in response.

Vlad’s assailants stepped up their attacks. Blow after blow landed against his helmet, on his arms, on his back. Someone was even trying to stub his toe. He grit his teeth and tried to focus—the hammering he was taking made a terrific din on his helmet. It was all he could do to lift his arm up to swing.

Think! He had to fight smarter, there was no way he could win through brute force alone.

Vlad lowered his a bit to give a sailor to his left an opening. The man couldn’t resist and lunged into the space with his stave. Capturing the staff with his arm, Vlad pulled it down and then slammed upwards with his shield. It connected with a CRACK into the man’s jaw.

Somewhere amidst all the shouting came, “Three!” Betting abounded as men, women, and children waged for or against Vlad.

Vlad thrust his leg in between the legs of another sailor and twisted. The man stumbled. Vlad smacked him with the club and he went down.

“Four!”

Vlad’s back was to the pylon, but it didn’t provide much protection. A staff slammed him from over his shoulder. He resisted the urge to turn and face his assailant. It was a lucky shot.

Suddenly, there was a great weight on his shield. The men were dragging it away from him! Vlad snarled and dug his heels in for a moment as two of the sailors put their backs into it.

Then Vlad let it go. The sailors tripped over themselves, giving him an opening. He kicked one in the side. The man was dragged out of the fracas.

“Five!”

Vlad pressed the advantage on his fallen assailants and struck down hard. He connected with something soft and was rewarded with an “oof!”

“Six!”

Sweat poured out of Vlad’s armor as he swung clumsily around him. The normally pleasant climate had become stifling hot in a relentless combat with no opportunity for rest or retreat. He took a clumsy step backwards, only to realize his gambit had left his back unprotected by the pylon.

Then something cracked against the side of his helmet, and Vlad didn’t worry much about pylons, sailors, or One-Eyed Jack.

As he slid into unconsciousness, Vlad wondered what he might have earned if he won the contest.

Holiday in the Sun - Part 3a: Chasing the Rat

The ale carts had finally arrived and the crowd’s mood only got jollier as alcohol flowed. Out in the harbor, several ships performed reenactments of famous engagements of the Great Raid. Throughout the day, inns and taverns did a brisk business with those more interested in hard drinking than fun and games.

Vlad nursed a drink at the Pale Plate, along with his aching head. “Did I win?”

“No,” said Ilmarė. “Somebody beat your score by one. That’s the most ridiculous contest I’ve ever seen. And for what? You can barely walk.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Vlad. “I just need a few more drinks.”

“I’ve asked around,” said Dril. “It appears Egil and Lucius were last seen together with a dwarf, heading towards Scurvytown.”

“What in the world would those two idiots be doing in Scurvytown?” asked Ilmarė. “They can barely survive outside of their homes, much less the roughest part of Freeport.”

“Speaking of ridiculous contests,” said Dril, “it looks as if another one is about to begin.”

“Count me out of it,” said Ilmarė.

Dril shrugged and stepped out of the Pale Plate to watch Captain Baldric mount the stage again. Vlad didn’t even bother to get up.

The crowd cheered for the old captain. Baldric hoisted a tankard and toasted the rowdy citizens of Freeport. The crowd responded with many shouts of “long live the Cap’n!”

He smiled, exposing his terrible teeth, and cleared his throat. “Alright, lads an' lassies, time fer some more fun. Ye all know that Captains Drac an' Francisco chased th' fat rats up an' down th' sea lanes. Well, now 't’s yer turn!”

Baldric pointed at a man-sized keg that three sailors slowly rolled up to the stage. He undid several latches and with a creak, the front of the keg fell open.

In the darkness, two beady red eyes glared out at the crowd.

Ilmarė joined Dril to stare into the keg. “Oh no, he didn’t,” she said. “He’s not going to let that thing loose, is he?”

“Th' first salt t' brin' me back th' fat rat gets th' booty,” shouted Baldric. “An’ remember, he’s worth more alive than dead!”

With that, the huge rat launched itself into the midst of the crowd, nearly flattening a particularly ugly woman.

Ilmarė pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Of course he is.” When she looked up, Dril was gone.

“Dril went after the rat,” said Vlad, nodding off in the direction of overturned carts, screaming children, and a trail of chaos. “If anyone can catch that thing, he can.”

“But why would anyone want to? That crazy captain just released a monster into the streets.”

“Well let’s hope he catches it soon,” said Vlad. “Because it’s heading towards Scurvytown.”

Holiday in the Sun - Part 3b: Chasing the Rat

Dril was hot on the rat’s trail, but it wasn’t very hard to track. The thing left a wake of terror and more than a few gnawed limbs of those too slow to get out of its way. Dril kept pace easily with the crowd, pulling ahead even as other sailors behind him cursed and laughed. Most of them were drunk.

Then he saw the girl.

Her parents had carefully hoisted her up on a crate, out of the path of the rat and the men. But what they didn’t count on was the rat’s mad dash, its tail thrashing behind it. The long pink tail snapped like a whip and toppled the crate, leaving the girl in shock in the mud.

Right in the path of the crowd.

Dril knew there was no way he could stop them in time. He lowered his arms as he ran and scooped her up.

“Eek!” she squealed. She wasn’t as light as Dril had hoped. “Let go of me!”

Dril had to slow his pace even as some of the sailors jogged ahead of him. He placed her on a nearby wagon. “You’re welcome,” he said. The girl stuck her tongue out at him.

The Altherian ignored her and resumed his jog. A moment later, he had passed the sailors who ran ahead of him. They had all stopped in their tracks and were staring ahead.

Dril ran past them, but his moment of triumph was short lived. He stopped running and turned to face his rivals. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s Scurvytown,” said one of the sailors. He spat. “I wouldn’t be caught dead there, but you will be if you keep chasing that rat.”

Dril shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

“But just in case,” said Vlad, hobbling up from behind the throng of men. “We’re going with you.”

“We?” asked Dril.

Vlad tugged Ilmarė behind him. “Yes,” he said. “We.”

Holiday in the Sun - Part 4a: A Bigger Problem

“The rat went in there,” said Dril. He pointed at a basement window in a dilapidated building. The window had once been boarded up, but something large had gnawed its way through.

Ilmarė cocked her head. “Something’s in there.”

“Squeaking?” asked Vlad hopefully.

“No,” said Ilmarė. “Clicking.”

“I found a door,” said Dril. “But it’s boarded up.”

“Vlad,” said Ilmarė, pointing at the boarded up door. “Mind knocking?”

Vlad grinned and slammed his bulk into the door, shield first. It splintered apart.

He rubbed his shoulder afterwards. “Ouch,” he said.

They climbed down steps into the basement. Vlad went first.

He stopped abruptly at the opening. “Well, the good news is we’ve found the rat,” said Vlad.

They found the rat all right, but he was in no condition to fight back. The room was filled with arcing webs, and the rat was firmly caught amongst them. His jaws worked futilely as he tried to gnaw his way free. Around the room were several large cocoons, some as large men.

“What’s the bad news?” asked Dril.

Deep in the shadows a pair of red eyes glowed. An arachnid form was just visible in the webs. As mandibles clicked, a raspy voice emerged from the abomination.

“If you leave now, I’ll let you live,” it whispered.

Dril drew his flintlock rifle. “Never mind.”

Holiday in the Sun - Part 4b: A Bigger Problem

Dril handed Vlad a lit torch. Firing at the spider was nearly impossible, given the tough webbing that blocked their path. Dril’s flintlock make a lot of noise but had little effect.

“It’s like the Isle of Tears all over again,” said Vlad, igniting some of the webbing. It hissed and crackled. “I’ll just clear out these webs, then we can get the rat and get out—“

A white beam of light struck Vlad’s torch. His hand, along with the torch, was instantly encased in ice. They were plunged into darkness, with only a thin shaft of light from the basement window to guide them.

“Oh,” said Vlad.

“You burned enough of a path,” said Dril. He stepped around Vlad into a space not completely covered by webbing…

Only to be completely covered by a strand of webbing. The cottony stuff so ensnared him that he fell to the ground.

Vlad stepped behind him, only to find himself ensnared as well by the spider’s webbing.

Ilmarė drew her bow. She fired, but the arrow was caught in more webbing. “A talking spider?” she asked to no one in particular. She decided it was an aranea.

Vlad burst out of the webbing with a roar. “Look, we just want the rat!” he shouted. He began hacking at the other strands that were anchored to pillars, walls, and floor.

Dril slashed his way out of the cocoon with scimitar and dagger. The white webbing sloughed off of him as he stalked forward. He looked like an enraged corpse, shedding its burial shroud as it clawed from the grave.

The aranea whispered something and two bolts of energy spiraled into Dril.

“That’s not going to work, beast,” Dril said with a sneer. “Just give us the rat and we’ll leave you be.”

Ilmarė peeled back the webbing on one of the cocoons.

“I’ve found Lucius,” she said. “He’s alive. Barely. I’m guessing that other cocoon is Egil.”

Vlad lifted his crossbow from his belt. “That changes everything,” he said. The crossbow magically loaded itself with a click.

Dril stalked into the funnel hole where the aranea had retreated. There was a furious struggle. Then something screeched horribly, an inhuman sound that should never have come from a spider.

The Altherian emerged, ichor dripping from both of his blades. “It will terrorize Freeport no more,” he said triumphantly.

“That’s great,” said Ilmarė. “Now how do we get this huge rat back to Baldric?”

“I have an idea,” said Vlad.

Holiday in the Sun - Part 5: Bedlam Hour

The aranea had done the hard work for them. The rat was poisoned, so weak that it could barely move its head. It was tightly cocooned, so it couldn’t escape. They wrapped some webbing around the dire rat’s head and Vlad dragged it down the street.

Their human cargo was transported in much the same way. Egil and Lucius were far too weak to walk, so they were dragged in makeshift stretchers made of webbing. Ilmarė dragged Egil while Dril dragged Lucius. Slung over Ilmarė’s back was a smaller cocoon of the aranea’s possessions.

Then three men stepped into their path. Three more blocked the way behind them.

“Give us the rat,” said the scruffy-looking leader, “and we’ll let you live.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Ilmarė.

“Look,” said Dril. He lowered Lucius to the ground. “We went through a lot of trouble to get this rat. We’re not giving it up without a fight.”

The man spat. “Stupid Altherians. You think you know everything, don’t you? Well, this here is Scurvytown, and you’re on our turf. That rat’s worth a fortune and we plan to collect.”

Dril drew both of his blades with a SHING! Vlad shrugged and let the rat drop the ground. It squeaked as it hit the cobblestone. Ilmarė put her fists on her hips.

The thugs drew their scimitars. Vlad drew his sword and unbuckled his shield.

“Let’s make this quick,” said Vlad. “The alcohol is starting to wear off.”

The two groups eyed each other warily. Then Dril struck like lightning. Two men fell backwards, bleeding from their thighs.

Vlad beaned one of the thugs with the flat of his blade. The thug fell backwards onto his rump. The other men danced around, looking for an opening.

“You do realize that all you win for capturing the rat is a case of exotic spices?” asked Ilmarė.

The thugs stopped in their tracks. “What?” said the leader. The other men stumbled to their feet.

“It’s a case of spices,” said Ilmarė. “That’s the prize. That’s it. Spices. You don’t think Captain Baldric’s going to give away a king’s ransom during Swagfest, do you? He’d be broke by the end of the day. He was a pirate, after all.”

A few mutters of “it’s not worth it” and “ah forget this,” the men scattered.

They all resumed dragging their respective cargo down the street out of Scurvytown. “How did you know that Baldric’s offering spices?” asked Dril.

“I didn’t,” said Ilmarė with a smirk.