DARK•HERITAGE -- 16 installments to date, updated April 20th

[Desdichado]

I've actually realized that it is very difficult to actually kill any of you without going to extreme measures to do so. Because of the damage conversion rule from Unearthed Arcana, even if I have a TPK, you'd all stumble back up after a few hours of being left for dead. To actually kill you, you'd need to stumble on some creature that ate you immediately, or someone smart enough to slit your throats to make sure you were dead, or have you fall into the void between the floating islands or something like that.

So yeah, you probably don't need too worry quite as much about dying. The sanity, on the other hand, well, that's a different story...

 

[ledded]

...because there are things much worse than death, especially with JD at the helm


Reminds me of our GM's statement once when we complained after being nearly stripped of gear, badly wounded, left naked near-dead and shivering and lost in the woods after an encounter...

"Hey, guys, sometimes survival is it's own reward... aheheh..."

 

[Desdichado]

Interlude, Part I

Some time later, the three of them dragged themselves back up the shaft to where their boat was waiting for them still. The big sword was hidden under a cloak, but their bedraggled and bloody appearance was enough to give the old swampy quite a turn already. While helping them aboard, the cloak slipped momentarily from the sword. One of the daemonic faces on it leered noticably and hissed. The swampie jumped back as if stung.

"What is that?" he said quavering.

"Don't ask," Rosham's face and voice were hard and grim. "Get us back, and we'll leave your village and not trouble you again."

The swampie was nervous, but he piled coal and wood in the boiler as fast as he could, and they made relatively good time back to the city.

The guards at the gate didn't much like the rough look of the group, but after a gold piece or two, they were able to slip into the city and limp their way back to their safehouse. Stalwart Elroy opened the door and helped them in. He already had his first aid equipment ready before they had even approached the house. "Nice," observed Tson sarcastically.

"The mark of a good butler is anticipating his employer's needs," Elroy said bitingly (although rigidly politely) in return. "By the by, when you've got a moment," he continued in an unflappable voice, "a message arrived for you today while you were out."

About half an hour later, with brandy in their hands and liberally swathed in bandages, and smelling of healing poultices, the three of them crowded around the sitting room table with finely wrought parchment. The edges were gilt and an unmarked wax seal kept it closed. Rosham slid the wax off, unrolled the parchment and read out loud.

My dear sirs,

I have had the pleasure of observing your coming and goings in Razina these last few weeks. Clearly we have similar interests and goals. I would very much like to meet with you. Please accept my invitation to dine and converse at The Overlook in two days time at eight o'clock. I look forward to speaking with each of you.

~A.​

"Who is A.?" Konrad asked. "Does it look like a woman's writing?"

"It does," Rosham scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps Alainna? Our patron's sister?"

Tson shook his head. "Why would she want to meet us? She already knows us?"

"Why else does a woman want to meet secretly with a man?" Konrad said skeptically. "Or maybe she's got some agenda of her own that she doesn't want Gauvain knowing about. I don't trust these Inquisitor types."

"We're Inquisitor types," Tson retorted. "Sort of, anyway."

"No matter," continued Rosham with a smile. "I'm going whether or not you wish to. The Overlook is a very swanky restaurant on the terraces. I'm more than happy to have this A. pay for my meal there."

That certainly decided it for Tson, and Konrad decided not to let himself be left out.

~•~​

In two days, at about 7:15 they walked together into the lobby of The Overlook, dressed nicely and walking stiffly. They had not had the best reception, two Bred, and the only Unbred among them clearly a foreigner and a hairy savage, but nobody had overtly accosted them. The maître d' looked at them askance when they first walked in, but as they discreetly flashed both their gold and their Inquisitor badges, and asked where the private room where they were supposed to meet was, so they could wait for their host, he changed his tune.

"This way, if you please," he said formally, walking smartly into the restaurant, past diners at tables and in private rooms and booths, all the way to the rear of the restaurant. There, near the kitchen and hanging out over the cliffed terrace, was their room. The door was open, and the maître d' bowed to signal them to pass inside. They could see a dark wood table and dark wood paneling on the walls, but a fire burned in the hearth, and many candles were lit. There was a draft of air from a vent in the roof which allowed the air to clear of smoke, and patrons to catch a view of the sky, which was dark.

They walked in. At the far end of the table sat a woman in tight black leather with dark, soot-colored skin and a smooth, bald, head. On the table in front of her were two sheathed and wickedly curved swords.

Konrad swore and reached for his pistol, while Tson and Rosham fumbled for their weapons belts as well. Then, with a clanking and hissing of escaping steam, a hulking construct that had been standing like a statue in a dim corner of the room rushed up to stand in front of them. A massive sword; both long and as thick as a plank was in his hand (At this point I gave them a little GM hint… the steamjack was about CR 10 or 11; the characters were level 4.)

The woman laughed, and her voice was silky and light; like the giggling of a teenage girl. "Please," she said, tilting her head to the side and shaking her finger at them as if she'd just caught them with their hands in the candy jar. "That's hardly appropriate behavior for guests at The Overlook. But your rather rough manners are part of your charm, I suppose." She laughed again.

The three of them slowly moved their hands away from their weapons and sat down at the near end of the table. "What is it you want with us, then?" Rosham asked, slipping into his role as spokesman for the group.

The woman smiled, and put her fingers together in a tent-like formation in front of her face. "As I said, to talk with you. We clearly have some very similar interests. My name, by the way, is Aberraine. And I want your help."

Tson, Rosham and Konrad all looked at each other with open astonishment on their faces. "Help? With what, pray tell?"

"Aberraine smiled ruefully. "With escaping from a situation that I unfortunately find myself in. I am bound in service to a cruel and wicked master, and forced to be his thief and spy. I do not know him, as he is very discreet and secretive, but he holds a claim on my life that I cannot escape alone. He has set upon himself the goal of collecting all the books of heresy, arcane lore and sorcery that he can find. The Gods only know the details of his plan, but I know he hopes to overthrow the King in Cassant and take his place. I think we both are interested in seeing that he is not successful in that particular venture. The book you seek is crucial to his plan, and I'd much rather you find it than him.

"Also," she continued, "I summoned you here to give you a warning. The Inquisition for whom you work is an organization riddled with plots, secrets and corruption. I know that there are Inquisitors who work for my master as well. Be cautious if you intend to continue in their employ."

The three of them were stunned into silence. Finally Rosham spoke again, "Give us a token, then, of your intentions. Bring us one of these books that we can hold it."

Aberraine thought for a second, then nodded. "Very well." She checked a large, wooden grandfather clock. "Already I'm risking too much by remaining here with you. I will take my leave. Feel free to order anything you like; I have an arrangement with the management of The Overlook."

"When and where will we meet again to discuss our next steps then?" Rosham asked.

Aberraine again thought for just a second. "There is a place in Bricktown known as The Steams; a bathhouse renowned for its discretion and secretiveness. Have you heard of it?"

Rosham indicated that they had, desperately hoping that neither Konrad nor Tson gave away any hint that they were already on friendly terms with the owner, Eiji Kisaragi.

"Wonderful," Aberraine replied. "Then we'll meet there tomorrow at 2 o'clock?"

~•~​

After a delightful meal at The Overlook the three of them came home quite late. Elroy was not up, but someone else was waiting for them in their sitting room, helping herself generously to their brandy. It was Alainna FitzGilbert d'Aubigne.

"Ah, I'm glad you are home," she said as they walked in. "I have a small request to make of you." She smiled at them with false innocence.

 

[GPEKO]

Is it just me or is this campaign really filled with dangerous woman?

 

[Desdichado]

In my experience, every good campaign is.

 

[Stockdale]

You said "the only Unbred among them clearly a foreigner and a hairy savage" as though that was some sort of bad thing.

 

[Desdichado]

Indeed. Every group needs a hairy savage, right? In our Eberron game, it's me; in this game it's you.

 

[LostSoul]

Very cool story. I love Bricktown!

 

[Desdichado]

Thank you! I'm quite fond of Bricktown myself; it seems an unusual element in a fantasy campaign.

Oddly enough (or maybe not so) it was largely inspired by downtown Detroit. There is a neighborhood of Detroit that is called Bricktown that's a bit on the older side; it has, as can be imagined, many older buildings that are made of brick.

There is another area, part of the Greektown neighborhood, actually and right across the street from the Greektown casino, a city block that has been roofed over, yet restored to be a somewhat scenic representation of what the street might have looked like. If you're ever in Detroit, say for the auto show or something, and you eat at Fishbone's Cajun Bar and Grill downtown, you'll likely see it; it's right outside the restaurant.

Naturally, my Bricktown isn't so much scenic as it is grim, gritty, dark and choked with soot and smoke. But that was the inspiration for the neighborhood anyway.

 

[LostSoul]

For some reason, it reminds me of the season of Lexx they spent on Fire.

I love the gritty feel of it; it seems like you could easily get lost down there, no place to run, enemies lurking in every shadow...