A Savage Tidings Tale

[Olgar Shiverstone]

A Savage Tidings Tale

Subtitled: Rebel Without A Clue

Being the story of one Thalas Serranon, elven battlemancer, his companions, and their adventures in, around, and beyond the fabled city of Sasserine.

Dramatis Personae:

As of 7 OCT 07:

Arjan, Human Druid 1 (Vow of Poverty) (Played by KingCrab)
Athal, Elf Warblade 1 (Played by drquestion)
Kyrsith, Elf Cleric 1
Thalas, Elf Duskblade 1 (Played by Olgar Shiverstone)
Morderas, Half-Drow Rogue 1

Added 21 OCT 07
Quinn, Human Scout 1


Author's Note: This is a log of a 3.5 campaign based on the Dungeon Savage Tide Adventure Path. EN World's Failed Saving Throw is the DM. I'm not the greatest fiction writer, and I don't know how often I'll update this campaign log, but hopefully some of the other players and DM will also post here to provide their perspectives.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Session 1: It begins.

In which our heroes are introduced, a mysterious letter arrives, and an even more mysterious ship is investigated invaded.

Thalas was knocking back a mid-day brew at the Hunter's Trap in Sunrise, pondering whether to take a stroll down to the arena, break out a spell book for a bit of study, or head out to Standing Stone Park for a bit of blade practice when she walked into the tavern.

The human boor talking loudly about the deer that got away and its impossible size paid her no mind, nor would he -- she was a grey-haired, elderly halfling woman, who stood but three foot in height, just over half Thalas' size. Thalas typically took but little notice of humans except as sources of amusement, and even less of halflings, but this woman strode purposefully toward him, bowing and handing him a rolled parchment with an unusual seal.

 

[howandwhy99]

HOLY MOTHER OF... (click)-subscribe

You just made my first daily update subscription in over a year.

Hope you're having fun. As an... ELF!?

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

*shrug*

Yeah, I'm a bloody namby-pamby hairless androgynous elf.

Though dwarves are my usual schtick, I figured I'd try something different. This way I get to play both angsty and superior, though using Wisdom as a dump stat is already getting me into trouble. I even broke my usual rule to try out a non-core class.

Update coming later this evening.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Thalas raised an eyebrow at the halfling woman, then broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. It read:

Greetings, and I trust this missive finds you in good health!

My name is Lavinia Vanderboren, and I humbly request your attendance at dinner at my estate on Festival Street and Blue Skink Lane tomorrow evening. I thikn that I can present you with an opportunity uniquely suited to your skills. Please inform the carrier of this letter of your response to this invitation, and I hope to be speaking to you soon!

-- Lavinia Vanderboren

Corellon's hairless nutsack! Thalas thought. A decade of ditching the nobility and they've finally tracked my down. My uncle is probably behind this, which means I should head for the jungle immediately. On the other hand ... the Vanderborens aren't usually marching to the tune of the Dawn Council, and have been in disgrace. Perhaps by going along I'll find out what hand my uncle played in tracking me down. Who knows, it could give me my first clue.

He put down the letter. "Tell Lavinia I'll be there." He was most certainly not going to bow and scrape to one of Sasserine's leading families, no matter how rich. Precautions might be needed ... a chain shirt under his tunic tonight, Demonbane at his side. A sword could appear formal, but still show he couldn't be cowed.

The halfling woman was departing the tavern; on a whim Thalas swiftly rose and followed her. Best check to make sure she really serves the Vanderborens!

He darted from alley way to alleyway as she made her way across the Sunrise disctrict to the bridges to the Merchant's Quarter. The diminutive woman looked neither left nor right, and kept up a steady pace. Thalas meanwhile moved in a crouch, taking exaggerated care not to be seen -- never mind that it was noon, there wasn't a shadow to hide in anywhere, and the streets were crowded enough that is every move could be seen. Sneaking had never been his strong suit.

Eventually, the halfling reached the large, walled compound that was the Vanderboren estate in the Merchant Quarter. Satisfied that she was whom she claimed, Thalas broke off pursuit, returning to Sunrise to prepare for the morrow's entertainment.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Sasserine is an odd city. Backed against the Amedio Jungle, it is a long, long way from the better known and more civilized parts of the Flaness. As the only port in the region, though, it serves as a center for both trade and civilization. Beings of many cultures met and mingled in Sasserine to exchange goods and services. Pirates secretly serving the Scarlet Brotherhood might enter the port to do more or less honest buiness, while adventurers gathered strange animal, plants and artifacts from the jungles to the south for sale in the back alleys of Sasserine's grey market. If it can be imagined, went the old phrase, it can be seen or bought in Sasserine.

So it was without particular surprise that Thalas found the oddly matched pair awaiting him at the gates of Vanderboren manner the following evening. He'd arrived fashionably late, just as planned, his father's sword worn rakishly on one hip, and a moderately serviceable shirt and tunic covering his chain shirt beneath. He'd deliberately mussed his straight black hair, the better to present his planned facade of cautious indifference. If Lavinia Vanderboren really knew who he was, he would send the message that we hasn't afraid; if she didn't, then his current appearance would be assumed to be his normal character, and so much the better.

The two beings waiting outside the gate, however, did not appear to have taken equal care. One appeared to be a human of indeterminate gender. Race, even, was hard to determine as the man? woman? thing? stank to Arborea, wore about six layers of never-cured hides, and had painted all exposed skin with green and black pigments. The other was a male elf of about Thalas' age, who paced nervously back and forth, wearing very fine clothing that was obviously newly purchased for the occasion.

To his surprise, Thalas did recognize the elf. He shouldn't have been startled; the elven population of Sasserine was fairly small, and even this far from the center of elvendom on Oerth all the elves of a certain age still spent time together learning the traditional elven arts of sword and bow, woodcraft and magecraft.

"Athal! What are you doing here?" Thalas asked. He knew Athal vaguely -- they had sparred a few times a few decades back when both were still learning the sword, but had seldom crossed paths since. Thalas had a vague memory of Athal being from one of the poorer elven families in Sasserine, an issue made much of by his parents but that made little sense at the time to a just-turned-seventy elf boy.

"I was invited." Athal flourished a parchment similar to that Thalas carried. "My sword and services are required by the great house of Vanderboren."

Thalas sneered but said nothing. The -- thing -- under the hides watched but remained silent. Thalas shrugged. "I guess we go up?"

The gates were open, and from the lighted doorway of the manor itself Thalas could see another figure just entering. He and Athal followed, with the painted stranger training just beyond scent range behind.

The entryway of the manor was lavishly appointed with polished and inlaid wood, though the wear on many of the surfaces indicated that times were not as prosperous as they once had been. Thalas reviewed what he remembered of the Vanderborens. The were a weathy merchant family with interests in the shipping business, who made their money the new way: they earned it, sometimes honestly, sometimes not. They had been successful enough to buy influence with the Dawn Council, until recently. There had been a fire that had destroyed much property and killed the senior Vanderboren and his wife, leaving behind the two adult children, Lavinia and Vanthus. There were rumors of financial problems, but beyond that Thalas knew little. Human society changed so rapidly that it was impossible to keep up.

The elderly halfling woman who had delivered the message was waiting, along with another: Kyrsith, a young elven woman also of Thalas' age wearing the robes and sigil of the House of the Dragon, one of the academies in town. Thalas knew her moderately well, as his mother had served as Kyrsith's magical tutor for a time. They still occasionally crossed paths at some of the bookshops and magical emporiums in town, though they shared little else in common.

"Kyrsith, what brings you here?" Thalas inquired.

"I was invited, silly," Kyrsith replied smugly, "You?"

"The same. This is Athal, and ... ." The green mute remained mute.

"Welcome all," the halfling woman intoned. "If you would be so kind as to wait in the sitting room - " at this she motioned to a room off the foyer. "I'll inform my mistress that you all have arrived."

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

The four stepped into the sitting room, which was finely but not lavishly appointed and decorated with a nautical theme, paintings and bas-reliefs of various ships and watercraft adorning the walls.

"Who's the freak?" Thalas asked Kyrsith and Athal in a stage whisper. He eyed the green monster.

Athal shrugged, but Kyrsith smiled at the green mute and said "I'm Kyrsith, what's your name?"

"Arjan," came the response, but nothing further followed.

"Well, Arjan," Kyrsith began, but she trailed off as four adventurers passed through the room. The first was a part-elven male clad in leather with daggers strapped everywhere on his person. The second was a dwarf, dark-skinned wearing green and brown robes. The third was an attractive -- by human standards, anyway -- human woman wearing the tattoo of a crescent moon on one side of her face. The last was a tall human male in a fine polished breastplate.

"I see the help has arrived," the man said jauntily as he passed.

"The help? The help!" Thalas shouted as the man departed. "Now, you come back and explain-". There was the sound of a gong, and from the adjoining chamber came a voice:

"Lady Vanderboren. Dinner is served."

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

The four were escorted into a large, well-lit high-ceilinged chamber dominated by a long polished table in the center which was surrounded by high-backed chairs. The table was set for a multi-course meal. At the far end of the chamber was a larger-than-life-sized portrait of a young, fair-skinned, bearded nobleman. Standing facing the portrait was a tall woman in an elegant blue gown. As she turned, her beauty became apparent. Even for a human she was striking, thin and lanky but clearly athletic, and with less than the usual curved padding that most human women carried. Given the woman's dress, Thalas noted that Athal was the only one actually properly attired for the occasion. He himself looked like a ragged vagabond in comparison. Arjan, meanwhile, was simply indescribable, and stared at the woman with what appeared to be hunger while he licked -- was that pink frosting? -- from his lips.

"I am Lavinia Vanderboren," the woman announced simply. "Thank you for responding to my summons." Athal and Kyrsith bowed their heads. Arjan stood slack jawed; Thalas merely smirked. "Please be seated."

Shrugging, Thalas flopped into a chair at one end of the table, opposite Kyrsith and Athal and next to Arjan. Lady Vanderboren remained standing, pacing, wrining her hands in obvious discomfort. Here we go, Thalas thought.

"You've all probably heard the rumors," Lady Vanderboren began. "It pains me to admit it, but most of them are true. Due to a series of unfortunate events" what an interesting choice of phrase "my family finds itself in debt to the Dawn Council, the Harbormaster, and several of the Guilds. Wealth we still have, but it lies in our magically locked vault beneath Castle Terakaian. The key to the vault -- a family signet ring -- is secured on one of our ships, the Blue Nixie. Unfortunately, the Nixie was seized for non-payment of debt, and though I have paid the required fee and more to a despicable man named Silar Vark, I still have not been granted access to the ship. I fear the ship may be being misused by factors unknown. In any case, I cannot risk the true nature of my plight becoming known across the city, which is where you come in. Here is my offer." She paused, reading their faces. Thalas tried to put on his best poker face, but succeeded only in looking glassy-eyed. "I'll give you 200 gold nobles each to gain access to the Nixie and retrieve my key, and if possible the money I paid Vark. Return, and there will be an additional reward for your help in reaching my vault."

Not what I expected, Thalas thought. My uncle profits from this how? If he's behind this, he'd be sinking Vanderboren's ship, not maneuvering me into helping her. Assuming she's not lying, and I doubt she is, helping her could be a real eyepoke to the old man.

He interrupted. "So let me get this straight. You want us to break into your ship, steal this key, ring, whatever; steal back your money, then break into your vault?"

Lady Vanderboren blushed. "I sincerely hope breaking and entering will not be required. You may be able to convince Vark to hand over the ship given that the requsite fees have been paid. but if not, well, you have the right of it."

Thalas smiled. Stickin' it to the man! "I'm in!" he announced impetuously.

Lady Vanderboren turned to Athal and Kyrsith. After a few questions and a bit of unpracticed fawning by Athal, both agreed to help. Arjan merely meekly asked: "You said something about food?"

Lavinia smiled and clapped for the meal to be brought in. Just as she did so, however, there was a commotion at the door. Two guards were dragging in a slight, cloaked figure who was struggling mightily.

"We found this one lurking outside, yer ladyship" one guard said, saluting. The two guards propped the prisoner up. He/she -- probably he, given the absence of certain features -- was of moderate height and slight of build, and wore a dark cowl that completely cloaked the face in darkness, save for a few stray whisps of pale hair that escaped from beneath it. The figure struggled to keep the cowl forward, but one guard jerked it back.

Lavinia Vanderboren gasped and went pale.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

The stranger's features were somewhere between human and elven -- not as rounded as a human's, but neither as angular as an elf's. What was truly strange, though, was his coloration: dusky grey skin, pale hair, and dark, almost violet eyes.

"Half-elven abomination!" Lavinia hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I have information that may be of use to you," the stranger answered nonchalantly. "And in return, I expect you will be able to help me as well."

"Pah! What could you possibly know that would be of help, drow?"

"I know why you have asked these others here," the stranger continued, nonplussed. "I've been to your ship, and I know where the guards are posted, and I know a way past the patrols. These others won't succeed without me."

Thalas whispered across the table to Kyrsith: "I thought drow were a myth?"

Lavinia continued: "And what would you expect in return?"

"In due time," the stranger replied. "Nothing you can't afford or won't part with."

"And why should I trust you?" she replied.

Thalas bristled. Vanderboren's inherent superiority complex was showing -- and he did resent the superiority of the nobility. He interrupted: "For that matter, how can you trust any of us?"

Lavinia spluttered. "Well, I , uh, I ... I suppose you are right. Very well, let this other join you. Please enjoy your meal; I seem to have lost my appetite." She turned on her heel and left the room.

Thalas narrowed his eyes and sized up the stranger, whom the guards had released. The man pulled his cowl back up over his head and grabbed a spot at the table. Well, he looks trustworthy. [OOC: Sense motive = 1]. Arjan, meanwhile, looked from the stranger to the food, and began stuffing his face.

"So, you do know that drow are mythical, right?" Thalas said to the stranger in a conversational tone. "You didn't mention your name, either. I'm Thalas."

"Morderas," the stranger replied, eyeing the others. "So you're the amateurs I'm saddled with? What good are you?"

"I've no equal with sword or spell," Thalas boasted. Amateur?

"I'm not bad with either, either," Kyrsith said.

"And I know my way around a sword," Athal replied. "Perhaps we should consider a plan while we eat?"

"Plan, what plan?" Thalas replied. "Seems easy enough. Row out to the ship, knock the guards over the head, grab the key and go. Simple."

"Not so simple," Morderas said. "I have a boat, and I exaggerate a bit about the patrols, but the ship is guarded."

"Maybe we should poke around down at the docks a bit," Athal suggested. "Sailors notice things. We may find out what we need."

"Oh, have it your way," Thalas replied, digging in to rubbery chicken and over-cooked vegetables.

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

After finshing their meals and collecting some key belongings, the group assembled later that night outside The Crimson Genie, a popular house of ill repute in the Dock District not far from the poer where the Blue Nixie was reported to be moored. Thalas had retrieved the remainder of his weapons, and though the polearm he preferred to carry stood well above his head when strapped to his back, it stood out relatively little amidst the stranger sights of the Docks District late at night.

Outside the Genie, a few scantily clad strumpets strolled, batting eyes at passers-by, and occasionally snaring a swaying sailor and guiding him up the steps inside to the common room, from which came all manner of cheers, songs, and sounds of bawdy activity.

Thalas was generally disgusted. Not at the activity; that was normal for all animals, particularly for humans who seemed to need to rut away the majority of their short lives. Human women were far too round in most features -- eyes, face, chest, hips -- and lacked the pleasing angularity possessed by elven women. Plus human women tended to be too hairy and possess terrible body odor.

The others arrived. Thalas nodded to Morderas, then pointed down the nearest dock. "Is that it?"

Moderas nodded. "It's moored about a hundred yards out off the end of the dock, tied to a piling. There are usually a couple of guards up on deck. You can just make out their torches from here."

Between the torches, the crescent moon, and their elven sight, four of the group could just make out the profile of a three-masted caravel riding genly on the swells in the middle of the harbor. Arjan, meanwhile, was playing with rats in the alleyway next to the genie.

"Hey nature boy," Thalas called. "I may be a master of the arcane, but I can't cure bubonic plague. Concentrate here."

Arjan reluctantly stopped his tete-a-tete with the local vermin and joined the group.

"I think I'm going to talk to some sailors," Athal declared. He started toward the Genie. "Who's with me?" Kyrsith, Arjan, and Morderas demurred, leaving Thalas to drop his glaive and follow Athal inside.

In the common room, a number of groups of sailors were drinking, throwing darts, and apparently testing the freshness of the ladies, much as a greengrocer might check his tomatoes for firmness. Athal and Thalas soon located a likely looking group of experienced sailors who weren't too intoxicated, and a few rounds of drinks loosened tongues. Athal gradually brought the conversation around to the ship at the end of the nearby dock.

"The Blue Fish-Thing?" the bosun of a whaler asked. "Aye, she's been moored there a fortnight or longer. Little activity; seems she's been put out to rot. No business, though we'd see strange lights out there some nights. Probably teenagers sneaking out nights to play around. Nothing out there to be concerened about. Doubt she's for hire."

Satisfied, Thalas flipped the man a silver and motioned for Athal to withdraw. They rejoined the others. "Happy now?" Thalas asked. "Shall we try my way?" Athal shrugged.

"My boat's this way," Morderas said, leading the way down the dockside into the darkness.