skullsmurfer
First Post
pretty neat story can't wait for more!
DARK•HERITAGE -- 16 installments to date, updated April 20th
Desdichado
Hero
Ole Konrad probably should have been a gonner, but I couldn't have you lose him ten minutes into playing him for the first time. You better be careful now, though -- you've got several sessions under you, so I consider him fair game.Stockdale said:This was a fun session. It was the first time, we, the players got to test out our characters. I thought for sure that ole' Konrad was a goner at the start and finish of this combat between the poorly executed swing onto the attacking vessel and the lurching of the Blue Dart. However, the combat inbetween those two events was quite exciting, and, a credit to Josh's style, I used almost all of Konrad's feats and skills in this encounter.
Incidentally, you might want to invest in a new d20; you do seem to have pretty rotten luck with yours.
Thanks! That's all I can capture, since the details are too hazy anymore for me...Stockdale said:
Desdichado
Hero
Module I: "Blasphemous Rumours" Part II
"Well, do you have any bright ideas?" Roshan asked the Captain. Apparently he didn't, as all he did was dart his eyes back and forth across the deck as if hoping a solution would miraculously manifest itself.
"I...," he started. "Well, we could look for that big rock I saw floating up above us earlier..." However they were now ensconced in the fog bank, whether because the ship or the fog drifted was unknown. Visibility was too bad to find the little floating island again. But Roshan Boh had another idea.
"Shhh! Do you hear that?" he said. Both he and the Captain went still. The muffled silence of the fog bank was oppressively smothering. For a moment the only thing either of them could hear was the sounds of Konrad and Tson below decks moving things and talking to each other. An occasionally woody creaking sound, or flapping sail came from their ship, but seemed to fall quiet more quickly than expected, as if the fog were eating the sound. Then, very faintly, they heard a voice calling out.
"Ahoy! Ahoy there!"
The Captain began shouting to get the attention of whomever it was that called out of the fog, and then without warning a massive ship of the line appeared from the fog as suddenly as if the hands of the gods had suddenly placed it there. The massive vehicle turned then, and pulled up alongside. Roshan Boh had never seen such a large ship; multiple gun decks bristled on the side of it, and multiple crew decks clearly made up a significant portion of the rest of it. The poop deck and fo'c's'le were also several stories tall and well adorned. Fluted mahogany carvings decorated every exposed surface on the massive ship, and large areas of the ship, especially in the rear and on the poop deck were actually gilded. Three finely embroidered flags, shot through with gold and silver thread, adorned the masts of the ship.
"That's the flag of the kingdom of Cassant," said the Captain, indicating the foremost mast. "And that's the flag of the duchy of Razina, and that...," his face went white and he swallowed hard. "That last one means this is an Inquisition ship."
Tson and Konrad and "Rat" Galloway all came clumping up the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. They gaped at the massive ship, now just a few yards off their starboard side. They could now see the crew, staring silently at them as the ship came to a slow stop, it's much larger sides looming over them like a cliff. A handsome young face smiled at them from the middle of the ship.
"Ahoy there!" he said in a silky voice. "Well met! You may not have seen us, but I watched your handling of those pirates through my glass, and I'm suitably impressed." He held up his spyglass as evidence that he had indeed been watching them. "Might I invite you aboard before the ship you are on plunges into the void?" His face moved aside, but within a few seconds, a wooden ramp was extended by the crew to connect the two ships. Roshan Boh looked at the others, smiled and shrugged his shoulders and led them aboard, walking carefully on the thin planks of wood across the gap that fell into nothingness below.
Their host was waiting to greet them. He had a black velvet tunic shot through with silver threads, and a fine silvery cloak. His trousers and boots were made of soft, black leather. His head was bare, showing his dark hair and blue eyes, and he had a thin moustache and small beard on just his chin. He smiled at them again. "Welcome aboard The Monarch's Justice!" he said, "finest ship in the fleet of Cassant. I am Lord Gauvain FitzGilbert d'Aubigne, High Inquisitor of Razina, and if I may say so, it's damn lucky for you that we were coming this way when we did."
The group all inclined their heads slightly and shook his hand. "Let me introduce also my sister, the Lady Alainna FitzGilbert d'Aubigne, gentlewoman of leisure, and my most trusted companion and counselor, who will also be your host for the time being." He indicated a woman next to him, also young -- late twenties or early thirties at the most -- and she stepped forward to give them a limp wrist to kiss.
"Charmed," she said with a small, insincere smile. She was obviously Gauvain's sister, as the two looked remarkably alike; both very beautiful, with pale white skin and dark hair. Their sharp blue eyes that were mirrors of each other took in the strange little group. Her outfit was made to be the female version of Gauvain's -- black velvet dress, with silver threads in the same pattern as his tunic decorated her bodice. A silver net held her hair in a magnificent coif, although the humidity of the fog bank was quickly added a limp element to her hair that no doubt was not the stylist's intention.
"If you don't mind waiting in my quarters," Gauvain continued, "I'd love to talk to you three momentarily. I do, however, have the pressing need to see to the disposition of this salvage and your prisoner." The remaining pirate, under the barrels of several pistols, gulped loudly. "I'll just let Ramsley show you the way."
A straight-faced, older man, also in a black uniform, although of plain material stepped forward. "If you'll be so kind as to follow," he said, and then turned and started walking towards the doors of the poop deck without looking to see if they actually were following or not. Tson, Konrad and Roshan made sure to stick close on his heels.
The poop deck itself opened to a receiving area. An elderly clerk, also in a black uniform, half-stood as they entered, saw that it was merely Ramsley with three very odd (but not really important-looking) individuals and sat back down, his attention on the parchments in front of him. A door to the rear of that room led to a narrow and steep staircase with a gilded handrail. Ramsley led them into a richly furnished and relatively spacious room, surrounded on three sides by large panes of glass that lent the room a light and airy appearance. Silk upholstery bedecked several extremely comfortable-appearing chairs, and the three each took a seat. Ramsley presented them with silver-rimmed goblets and poured them a light wine from a bejeweled crystal decanter.
"Will you be requiring anything else?" he asked.
"Do you have anything we can eat?" Tson asked.
Ramsley bowed low and walked out of the room. "Do you think that means he's getting me something? I hope it's not some fairy aristocrat food; y'know, a few dainty bites of some disgusting vegetable. I want a good, solid 60 oz. steak..."
But before Ramsley came back, they could hear some faint sounds coming from outside the room; cries of pain. Then a long shriek that gradually faded; moving away from them as if its author had been thrown off the ship. "So, that must have been our pirate friend?" asked Roshan Boh with an innocent smile.
Within a minute or two, Gauvain, followed by his constant shadow Alainna came into the room. Gauvain sat casually amongst the three adventurers and poured himself a glass of wine while Alainna stood quietly in a corner. Once poured, he handed the decanter to his sister, who to everyone's surprise (except evidently Gauvain's) downed the rest of the wine in the decanter, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and set the empty crystal down.
"Well, my friends," said Gauvain slowly, "as I said, I was very impressed with your little maneuver on the pirate's ship. You demonstrated that you are savvy combatants, quick thinking, and handy in a tight spot." He absently swirled his drink, staring into the wine. "You have another advantage as well, at least to me," he said, almost to himself.
Then he looked up, more alert again, his eyes bright and his face smiling. "So, I have a proposition for you. I can offer you some good freelance employment in an item that my own men are too scant to resolve."
The three glanced at each other quickly. This sounded somewhat suspicious. Roshan Boh suspected that Gauvain also didn't trust his own men, and was glad to have an excuse to hire some outsiders who couldn't yet have been reached by some source of corruption. He sat up, nodding at Gauvain's words. He thrived on this type of implied intrigue.
"A few days ago, a caravan bound for Razina from Cassant was ambushed and its cargo raided. The cargo was very secret, and very sensitive, and it was an important Inquisitorial matter that needed to arrive in front of my desk. I believe that is in Razina now, but I need some operatives to locate this cargo and bring it back to me. In return, I can set you up with a safe house (complete with fully trained butler) and any equipment you might need to complete this task. In addition, you will have a pass to carry weapons in the city as part of this assignment."
Konrad missed the subtleties of the conversation, but went for the direct response. "So, what's the cargo that got stolen, anyway?"
Gauvain glanced at his sister almost imperceptibly before answering. "It was a book. A highly illegal book, as a matter of fact, known as the Book of Eibon. It's full of sorcery and heretical teachings, but it's also rumored to be powerful, and even to reveal a potential weakness of the Monarch himself, may all the god's bless him forever."
The three of them were stunned. The Book of Eibon was legendary; they hadn't really believed that it existed at all. Roshan Boh spoke slowly after a while. "And it was a very secret cargo, known only to the Inquisition, and yet it was robbed en route anyway?" Gauvain's face pained slightly at the implied accusation of someone in his organization.
"Yes, and the utmost discretion is necessary. I'm afraid I can't offer you any direct aid from the Inquisition, partly for your own protection. I'm not sure who is after it, but I fear he has penetrated my ranks. If you need to communicate anything to me, trust the butler only; he can transmit a message to me without fear of corruption. That's why it's so important that talented outsiders be my men for this job. Of course, after its successful completion, I can offer you better and more stable employment as well. Talented operatives are worth their weight in gold."
"Aren't there any leads you can give us to start with?" asked Konrad. "So far the trail is too faint for a blue-nosed sagovarr to follow."
Gauvain looked blankly at the rural metaphor, but answered quickly enough. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have something. Yesterday, a man claiming to be a porter on the ambushed caravan was seen in a local tavern known as The Singing Sword. He seemed paranoid; frightened out of his wits, and he didn't last long before he left the tavern in a rush. But he did leave a detail or two about the attack, if it's accurate.
"Apparently, the attacker was some kind of dark sorceress herself; able to disappear and reappear at will on the battlefield, and she had a number of corpse-demons with her that rent the caravan's defenders like they were nothing. This sorceress, if she exists, has a description -- a tall, dark-skinned woman with a shaved head. She must be a Bred human, although I don't recognize the breed; he said her skin was black as smoke, and she had two wicked swords with which she murdered several of the caravan's defenders personally.
"And the odd thing is; rumors of other caravans, commercial caravans that is, having been robbed by a figure matching this description have also started to surface. I think that's where you should start. The Singing Sword is a tavern known for its patronage by traveling bravos; caravan guards, mercenaries and the like."
The three travelers looked at each other, but each saw the same gleam in the eyes of the others.
"Lord Gauvain," Roshan Boh said, standing and bowing stiffly to him, "we gladly accept your charge to track down and return to you this stolen cargo."
"Well, do you have any bright ideas?" Roshan asked the Captain. Apparently he didn't, as all he did was dart his eyes back and forth across the deck as if hoping a solution would miraculously manifest itself.
"I...," he started. "Well, we could look for that big rock I saw floating up above us earlier..." However they were now ensconced in the fog bank, whether because the ship or the fog drifted was unknown. Visibility was too bad to find the little floating island again. But Roshan Boh had another idea.
"Shhh! Do you hear that?" he said. Both he and the Captain went still. The muffled silence of the fog bank was oppressively smothering. For a moment the only thing either of them could hear was the sounds of Konrad and Tson below decks moving things and talking to each other. An occasionally woody creaking sound, or flapping sail came from their ship, but seemed to fall quiet more quickly than expected, as if the fog were eating the sound. Then, very faintly, they heard a voice calling out.
"Ahoy! Ahoy there!"
The Captain began shouting to get the attention of whomever it was that called out of the fog, and then without warning a massive ship of the line appeared from the fog as suddenly as if the hands of the gods had suddenly placed it there. The massive vehicle turned then, and pulled up alongside. Roshan Boh had never seen such a large ship; multiple gun decks bristled on the side of it, and multiple crew decks clearly made up a significant portion of the rest of it. The poop deck and fo'c's'le were also several stories tall and well adorned. Fluted mahogany carvings decorated every exposed surface on the massive ship, and large areas of the ship, especially in the rear and on the poop deck were actually gilded. Three finely embroidered flags, shot through with gold and silver thread, adorned the masts of the ship.
"That's the flag of the kingdom of Cassant," said the Captain, indicating the foremost mast. "And that's the flag of the duchy of Razina, and that...," his face went white and he swallowed hard. "That last one means this is an Inquisition ship."
Tson and Konrad and "Rat" Galloway all came clumping up the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. They gaped at the massive ship, now just a few yards off their starboard side. They could now see the crew, staring silently at them as the ship came to a slow stop, it's much larger sides looming over them like a cliff. A handsome young face smiled at them from the middle of the ship.
"Ahoy there!" he said in a silky voice. "Well met! You may not have seen us, but I watched your handling of those pirates through my glass, and I'm suitably impressed." He held up his spyglass as evidence that he had indeed been watching them. "Might I invite you aboard before the ship you are on plunges into the void?" His face moved aside, but within a few seconds, a wooden ramp was extended by the crew to connect the two ships. Roshan Boh looked at the others, smiled and shrugged his shoulders and led them aboard, walking carefully on the thin planks of wood across the gap that fell into nothingness below.
Their host was waiting to greet them. He had a black velvet tunic shot through with silver threads, and a fine silvery cloak. His trousers and boots were made of soft, black leather. His head was bare, showing his dark hair and blue eyes, and he had a thin moustache and small beard on just his chin. He smiled at them again. "Welcome aboard The Monarch's Justice!" he said, "finest ship in the fleet of Cassant. I am Lord Gauvain FitzGilbert d'Aubigne, High Inquisitor of Razina, and if I may say so, it's damn lucky for you that we were coming this way when we did."
The group all inclined their heads slightly and shook his hand. "Let me introduce also my sister, the Lady Alainna FitzGilbert d'Aubigne, gentlewoman of leisure, and my most trusted companion and counselor, who will also be your host for the time being." He indicated a woman next to him, also young -- late twenties or early thirties at the most -- and she stepped forward to give them a limp wrist to kiss.
"Charmed," she said with a small, insincere smile. She was obviously Gauvain's sister, as the two looked remarkably alike; both very beautiful, with pale white skin and dark hair. Their sharp blue eyes that were mirrors of each other took in the strange little group. Her outfit was made to be the female version of Gauvain's -- black velvet dress, with silver threads in the same pattern as his tunic decorated her bodice. A silver net held her hair in a magnificent coif, although the humidity of the fog bank was quickly added a limp element to her hair that no doubt was not the stylist's intention.
"If you don't mind waiting in my quarters," Gauvain continued, "I'd love to talk to you three momentarily. I do, however, have the pressing need to see to the disposition of this salvage and your prisoner." The remaining pirate, under the barrels of several pistols, gulped loudly. "I'll just let Ramsley show you the way."
A straight-faced, older man, also in a black uniform, although of plain material stepped forward. "If you'll be so kind as to follow," he said, and then turned and started walking towards the doors of the poop deck without looking to see if they actually were following or not. Tson, Konrad and Roshan made sure to stick close on his heels.
The poop deck itself opened to a receiving area. An elderly clerk, also in a black uniform, half-stood as they entered, saw that it was merely Ramsley with three very odd (but not really important-looking) individuals and sat back down, his attention on the parchments in front of him. A door to the rear of that room led to a narrow and steep staircase with a gilded handrail. Ramsley led them into a richly furnished and relatively spacious room, surrounded on three sides by large panes of glass that lent the room a light and airy appearance. Silk upholstery bedecked several extremely comfortable-appearing chairs, and the three each took a seat. Ramsley presented them with silver-rimmed goblets and poured them a light wine from a bejeweled crystal decanter.
"Will you be requiring anything else?" he asked.
"Do you have anything we can eat?" Tson asked.
Ramsley bowed low and walked out of the room. "Do you think that means he's getting me something? I hope it's not some fairy aristocrat food; y'know, a few dainty bites of some disgusting vegetable. I want a good, solid 60 oz. steak..."
But before Ramsley came back, they could hear some faint sounds coming from outside the room; cries of pain. Then a long shriek that gradually faded; moving away from them as if its author had been thrown off the ship. "So, that must have been our pirate friend?" asked Roshan Boh with an innocent smile.
Within a minute or two, Gauvain, followed by his constant shadow Alainna came into the room. Gauvain sat casually amongst the three adventurers and poured himself a glass of wine while Alainna stood quietly in a corner. Once poured, he handed the decanter to his sister, who to everyone's surprise (except evidently Gauvain's) downed the rest of the wine in the decanter, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and set the empty crystal down.
"Well, my friends," said Gauvain slowly, "as I said, I was very impressed with your little maneuver on the pirate's ship. You demonstrated that you are savvy combatants, quick thinking, and handy in a tight spot." He absently swirled his drink, staring into the wine. "You have another advantage as well, at least to me," he said, almost to himself.
Then he looked up, more alert again, his eyes bright and his face smiling. "So, I have a proposition for you. I can offer you some good freelance employment in an item that my own men are too scant to resolve."
The three glanced at each other quickly. This sounded somewhat suspicious. Roshan Boh suspected that Gauvain also didn't trust his own men, and was glad to have an excuse to hire some outsiders who couldn't yet have been reached by some source of corruption. He sat up, nodding at Gauvain's words. He thrived on this type of implied intrigue.
"A few days ago, a caravan bound for Razina from Cassant was ambushed and its cargo raided. The cargo was very secret, and very sensitive, and it was an important Inquisitorial matter that needed to arrive in front of my desk. I believe that is in Razina now, but I need some operatives to locate this cargo and bring it back to me. In return, I can set you up with a safe house (complete with fully trained butler) and any equipment you might need to complete this task. In addition, you will have a pass to carry weapons in the city as part of this assignment."
Konrad missed the subtleties of the conversation, but went for the direct response. "So, what's the cargo that got stolen, anyway?"
Gauvain glanced at his sister almost imperceptibly before answering. "It was a book. A highly illegal book, as a matter of fact, known as the Book of Eibon. It's full of sorcery and heretical teachings, but it's also rumored to be powerful, and even to reveal a potential weakness of the Monarch himself, may all the god's bless him forever."
The three of them were stunned. The Book of Eibon was legendary; they hadn't really believed that it existed at all. Roshan Boh spoke slowly after a while. "And it was a very secret cargo, known only to the Inquisition, and yet it was robbed en route anyway?" Gauvain's face pained slightly at the implied accusation of someone in his organization.
"Yes, and the utmost discretion is necessary. I'm afraid I can't offer you any direct aid from the Inquisition, partly for your own protection. I'm not sure who is after it, but I fear he has penetrated my ranks. If you need to communicate anything to me, trust the butler only; he can transmit a message to me without fear of corruption. That's why it's so important that talented outsiders be my men for this job. Of course, after its successful completion, I can offer you better and more stable employment as well. Talented operatives are worth their weight in gold."
"Aren't there any leads you can give us to start with?" asked Konrad. "So far the trail is too faint for a blue-nosed sagovarr to follow."
Gauvain looked blankly at the rural metaphor, but answered quickly enough. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have something. Yesterday, a man claiming to be a porter on the ambushed caravan was seen in a local tavern known as The Singing Sword. He seemed paranoid; frightened out of his wits, and he didn't last long before he left the tavern in a rush. But he did leave a detail or two about the attack, if it's accurate.
"Apparently, the attacker was some kind of dark sorceress herself; able to disappear and reappear at will on the battlefield, and she had a number of corpse-demons with her that rent the caravan's defenders like they were nothing. This sorceress, if she exists, has a description -- a tall, dark-skinned woman with a shaved head. She must be a Bred human, although I don't recognize the breed; he said her skin was black as smoke, and she had two wicked swords with which she murdered several of the caravan's defenders personally.
"And the odd thing is; rumors of other caravans, commercial caravans that is, having been robbed by a figure matching this description have also started to surface. I think that's where you should start. The Singing Sword is a tavern known for its patronage by traveling bravos; caravan guards, mercenaries and the like."
The three travelers looked at each other, but each saw the same gleam in the eyes of the others.
"Lord Gauvain," Roshan Boh said, standing and bowing stiffly to him, "we gladly accept your charge to track down and return to you this stolen cargo."
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Desdichado
Hero
Thank you. Hopefully today's update suffices!skullsmurfer said:
Desdichado
Hero
'Coz although I try to pretend I'm not, at heart I'm a bit of a softie as a GM. It seemed too cruel to kill the only character that the player had made ahead of time...Stockdale said:
But now, of course, everyone has had time to play out their PCs for a little while. The kid gloves come off...
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Desdichado
Hero
Module I: "Blasphemous Rumours" Part III
Roshan, Tson and Konrad had climbed to the crow's nest, on Gauvain's invitation, and the three were crammed in the small wooden bucket, but they had an unparalleled view of Razina as it approached in the mists. They also had a virtual guarantee of privacy. They were silent for a moment as the first houses and buildings of Razina came into view like islands or small boats poking their tops up through the thick mists. The first wave was on the terraced slopes, and was the dwellings of the wealthy and important. Although they couldn't see it, below the lowest of the buildings the giant floating continent dropped off in a sheer cliff face that fell for many miles before curling inwards.
"So, Roshan, take a look at what we found on that pirate ship," Tson said quietly, and he carefully handed the gray an old, battered book. He flipped through it for just a moment, looking around cautiously to make sure nobody was watching him. The book was written in a script that looked familiar, although cramped and archaic. Whether the language itself was one he knew he couldn't determine from a simple glance at the book. But one thing was for sure; the book was ancient. Quite likely, it was written before the founding of Cassant itself. And that meant there was a good chance that it was illegal and heretical both. Roshan smiled as he tucked it into a pocket in his cloak.
"Yes, that looks intriguing. And just maybe," he confided quietly to Tson, "it will have some information on our origins. But we don't want our new Inquisitorial buddy finding that out, since they'd love us to believe that Cassant has always been a glowing, legendary bastion of everything good and proper, don't they?" Konrad snorted at that.
More of the city of Razina was starting to march into view as their ship sailed peacefully over the rooftops, all strangely muffled by the thick mist. Now they could see the rim of the great continent, and perched atop it like a bloated, squatting vulture was an enormous, soot-stained brick building. All three of them gaped as it came closer and they realized just how big the building was. They had heard of Bricktown before, but the reality was more than they had expected. Many stories tall, sprawling over many square miles, and built like a giant brick and smokestack patchwork, Bricktown was an entire ward of the city of Razina that had been paved over with vaulted brick ceilings covering the streets and alleyways, converting the entire area into a gigantic building of sorts. Their ship took a course designed to sail to the side of Bricktown, but they could all see the forest of myriad smokestacks, hovels and other strange structures made the rooftop of Bricktown. It was said that an entire ecology of squatters, beggars, fighters and gangsters made their homes on the rooftops, and indeed, they could see tiny forms like people moving about on the enormous structure. The rooftop was perpetually blighted by the black vomit of smokestacks, belching the product of never-ending coal and oil-burning fires into the sky over Bricktown.
Roshan, Konrad and Tson all climbed down from the crow's nest to stand next to Gauvain and Alainna on the deck. The dark parasitic growth that was Bricktown was now behind them, and they could see a middle-class ward that was pegged tightly up against Bricktown, stretching away across the plain into the interior. Beyond that ward, they could see a strange greenish smudge, which gradually turned into the brownish red of the desert highlands beyond. "What's that?" Tson asked, pointing at the green patch, which was distant enough that to show as prominently as it did, it must stretch for miles.
"The Razina Marshes," said Gauvain. "In the center of it, there is a giant pump, of ancient manufacture, that pulls water up from the giant aquifer below ground, and brings it to Razina. The pipes have leaked a fair amount over the years, creating that marsh, which fades away into the desert beyond. But I don't expect you'll have any need to go in there," he said quietly. "It has a foul reputation."
They all fell silent again as the deck became a beehive of activity. The ship was slowing as it approached a tall, needle-like spire that shot into the air. Upon getting closer, they realized that the spire was dotted with large openings, each fronted by a flat dock of sorts. At many of these were berthed airships, securely tied to the docks, while others were still vacant. The Monarch's Justice pulled into a large dock that was the highest on the spire many hundreds of yards above the ground. Broad, flat gangplanks quickly followed the many ropes that secured the ship to the dock. The deckhands still buzzed about busily, furling the sales, shoring the lift engines and cooling down the boilers. A rush of steam blasted from vents in the lower part of the hull on either side of the airship. Gauvain and Alainna ignored the blast as they strode regally across the gangplank, gesturing Konrad, Tson and Roshan to follow them. However, they promptly ignored them to find their own way to the address Gauvain had given them earlier for their safe house. A large contingent of officials, lined by formal Inquisitorial guards, looking extremely fierce in their shiny armor was waiting for them, and they were quickly ushered out of sight.
The three freelancers, on the other hand, walked quietly and alone to the entrance into the spire itself. Along the outside edge, a long, winding staircase brought them finally down the ground, their knees aching from the long descent. Konrad in particular gawked at Razina at ground level; his background in the wilderness of the Twilight layer had not prepared him for the urban wilderness of Cassant. The streets below were literally packed with people; most of them humans, of course, but great red-furred hulks, slight grays and manikins, dark sanders, and even a few breeds that they did not recognize bustled about the city as well. The buildings were generally made of grim brick and were flat-roofed, and the streets were all cobbled and hard, funneling whatever water and sewer there was through channels where it did not disturb the pedestrians. Strange, two-legged and leathery creatures with sharp quills protruding from the backs of their heads and serrated beaks clacking angrily at passers-by pulled carriages that served as cabs for those willing to part with their gold in favor of convenience. Other cabs were pulled by steam and coal-smoke belching constructs and clanked their way through the streets. Strange birds croaked harsh sounds overhead and squabbled for scraps of food and trash on the street, grubby carnivorous and feral monkeys screamed as they fought for the same scraps, and tiny clockwork creatures like brass insects the size of cats scuttled across the walls, delivering messages and small packages.
Roshan Boh was the only one of the three who was more or less accustomed to the wilds of a large city, so he led the others with a minimum of gawking as they sought out their assigned safe house. Konrad, however, had a nervous feeling. There was a man; tall and thin with a shock of blonde hair, who he saw behind them many times. He could never be sure they were being followed, as he always was looking the other way when he surreptitiously glanced back at him, and yet he continued to stay the same distance behind them. Konrad suddenly veered towards a vending stall, pretending to look at rather poorly made steel knives and other utensils.
"Ah, my good sir, I can see you have a taste for finer…"
"Shut up!" Konrad growled at the obsequious shopkeeper, who quailed under his harsh gaze. Tson and Roshan came up behind him.
"What's going on?" said Tson a bit irritated. He was obviously in a hurry to reach their destination. Konrad took another cautious gaze, and saw that the blonde man had also stopped, and was talking casually with a salesman of parchment bulletins. Some coin changed hands, but the man stayed where he was, looking slightly interested in perhaps picking up another bulletin.
"See that gangly fellow with the sickly yellow hair back there?" he said, pointing slightly with his chin. "He's been following us for at least a quarter mile. I stopped here to see if he's really following us, or just coincidentally going the same direction. And what do you know; he made sure not to pass us up."
Tson cracked his knuckles and took a step towards the man, but Roshan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Not a good idea at the moment, my overly direct friend," he said quietly. "We're close to where he need to go; this is 45th West we're on and the street ahead is 13th North. We only need three more streets straight ahead and six more to the right to arrive at the address I have. Let's split up and see what he does, and meet there." Tson nodded.
So the three of them took separate routes to the house. None of them saw the blonde man, but Roshan worried that was because they hadn't been discreet enough and tipped their hand. He headed in a zigzagging route that took him through the neighborhood, while Konrad headed straight for the house. Tson was the last to arrive, having taken a large spiral route that also gave him an overview of the entire neighborhood at least. He felt much more comfortable about getting around without getting lost for his troubles, although the street numbering system did help in that regard.
Their safe house turned out to be a three-story structure on a relatively quiet residential street, sandwiched carefully between two other buildings. It did have several advantages, however. A large iron-bounded wood front door was the main entrance, but an unobtrusive back door led out into an even quieter alley behind the house. Better yet, there was a roof entrance, and cached unobtrusively on the roof were a number of long ropes with grappling hooks, enabling quick emergency escapes to the ground, or even neighboring rooftops if it came to that. And finally, on the second floor was another heavy iron door that only opened one way, but which when examined, led directly to the abandoned warehouse next door.
"This will do quite nicely," said Roshan, already imagining all kinds of dire consequences of their actions. Their host in the house was a tall, stiffly polite and quiet man named Elroy, who was dressed in a dark uniform.
"I am here to see to your every need," he said stiffly. "Lord Gauvain gave me advance notice that you would be arriving." He indicated a clockwork bug, its movements now quite slow and painful. It needed to be wound quite badly. "I have drawn baths, if that is what you require."
That sounded good to all three of them, so for the next hour or so, they all were quietly soaking in their tubs. Some more quietly than others. "Elroy, can I get something to eat while I'm in here?" called Tson. Afterwards, they were all clothed in clean cloaks and new clothes, although Konrad still preferred his trusty woodsman's garb. They then hit up Elroy for equipment that would come in handy for their investigation.
He led them to a small armory, in which extremely well crafted weapons of various types were stored. Each of the three of them strapped on a gun belt with a pistol, while Tson picked up a wickedly spiked chain, Roshan picked up a light steel rapier, and Konrad hefted a heavy mace with a spiked head. He casually crushed a wooden chair, and then nodded his approval. "Please, sir, that chair is very expensive," said Elroy in a flat voice.
"Any armor here in the ...armory?" asked Tson, but there was not.
"I can commission to have some made for you if I take your measurements, but it will take a few days," said Elroy. Both Tson and Roshan opted to ask for leather jerkins, but Konrad merely sneered at the idea.
They then found a box for petty cash for them to use. "That's your allowance for a week," Elroy said. Roshan emptied all the gold marks and divvied them up amongst the three of them.
Now feeling considerably more confident, as well as cleaner and fuller, the three of them started to discuss strategy. Tson elected to go to the Singing Sword right away to talk to the proprietor before the later shift ended and the tavern became more crowded. They all agreed they should arrive separately. Konrad decided to take a nap.
Looking out from the rooftop for anyone suspicious before he went, Tson satisfied himself that the blonde man was nowhere to be seen and no one else looked like he was up to anything untoward. Then he departed on his own towards Bricktown. The Singing Sword was close to the dark, heavily guarded gates to that blighted ward of the city.
Roshan, Tson and Konrad had climbed to the crow's nest, on Gauvain's invitation, and the three were crammed in the small wooden bucket, but they had an unparalleled view of Razina as it approached in the mists. They also had a virtual guarantee of privacy. They were silent for a moment as the first houses and buildings of Razina came into view like islands or small boats poking their tops up through the thick mists. The first wave was on the terraced slopes, and was the dwellings of the wealthy and important. Although they couldn't see it, below the lowest of the buildings the giant floating continent dropped off in a sheer cliff face that fell for many miles before curling inwards.
"So, Roshan, take a look at what we found on that pirate ship," Tson said quietly, and he carefully handed the gray an old, battered book. He flipped through it for just a moment, looking around cautiously to make sure nobody was watching him. The book was written in a script that looked familiar, although cramped and archaic. Whether the language itself was one he knew he couldn't determine from a simple glance at the book. But one thing was for sure; the book was ancient. Quite likely, it was written before the founding of Cassant itself. And that meant there was a good chance that it was illegal and heretical both. Roshan smiled as he tucked it into a pocket in his cloak.
"Yes, that looks intriguing. And just maybe," he confided quietly to Tson, "it will have some information on our origins. But we don't want our new Inquisitorial buddy finding that out, since they'd love us to believe that Cassant has always been a glowing, legendary bastion of everything good and proper, don't they?" Konrad snorted at that.
More of the city of Razina was starting to march into view as their ship sailed peacefully over the rooftops, all strangely muffled by the thick mist. Now they could see the rim of the great continent, and perched atop it like a bloated, squatting vulture was an enormous, soot-stained brick building. All three of them gaped as it came closer and they realized just how big the building was. They had heard of Bricktown before, but the reality was more than they had expected. Many stories tall, sprawling over many square miles, and built like a giant brick and smokestack patchwork, Bricktown was an entire ward of the city of Razina that had been paved over with vaulted brick ceilings covering the streets and alleyways, converting the entire area into a gigantic building of sorts. Their ship took a course designed to sail to the side of Bricktown, but they could all see the forest of myriad smokestacks, hovels and other strange structures made the rooftop of Bricktown. It was said that an entire ecology of squatters, beggars, fighters and gangsters made their homes on the rooftops, and indeed, they could see tiny forms like people moving about on the enormous structure. The rooftop was perpetually blighted by the black vomit of smokestacks, belching the product of never-ending coal and oil-burning fires into the sky over Bricktown.
Roshan, Konrad and Tson all climbed down from the crow's nest to stand next to Gauvain and Alainna on the deck. The dark parasitic growth that was Bricktown was now behind them, and they could see a middle-class ward that was pegged tightly up against Bricktown, stretching away across the plain into the interior. Beyond that ward, they could see a strange greenish smudge, which gradually turned into the brownish red of the desert highlands beyond. "What's that?" Tson asked, pointing at the green patch, which was distant enough that to show as prominently as it did, it must stretch for miles.
"The Razina Marshes," said Gauvain. "In the center of it, there is a giant pump, of ancient manufacture, that pulls water up from the giant aquifer below ground, and brings it to Razina. The pipes have leaked a fair amount over the years, creating that marsh, which fades away into the desert beyond. But I don't expect you'll have any need to go in there," he said quietly. "It has a foul reputation."
They all fell silent again as the deck became a beehive of activity. The ship was slowing as it approached a tall, needle-like spire that shot into the air. Upon getting closer, they realized that the spire was dotted with large openings, each fronted by a flat dock of sorts. At many of these were berthed airships, securely tied to the docks, while others were still vacant. The Monarch's Justice pulled into a large dock that was the highest on the spire many hundreds of yards above the ground. Broad, flat gangplanks quickly followed the many ropes that secured the ship to the dock. The deckhands still buzzed about busily, furling the sales, shoring the lift engines and cooling down the boilers. A rush of steam blasted from vents in the lower part of the hull on either side of the airship. Gauvain and Alainna ignored the blast as they strode regally across the gangplank, gesturing Konrad, Tson and Roshan to follow them. However, they promptly ignored them to find their own way to the address Gauvain had given them earlier for their safe house. A large contingent of officials, lined by formal Inquisitorial guards, looking extremely fierce in their shiny armor was waiting for them, and they were quickly ushered out of sight.
The three freelancers, on the other hand, walked quietly and alone to the entrance into the spire itself. Along the outside edge, a long, winding staircase brought them finally down the ground, their knees aching from the long descent. Konrad in particular gawked at Razina at ground level; his background in the wilderness of the Twilight layer had not prepared him for the urban wilderness of Cassant. The streets below were literally packed with people; most of them humans, of course, but great red-furred hulks, slight grays and manikins, dark sanders, and even a few breeds that they did not recognize bustled about the city as well. The buildings were generally made of grim brick and were flat-roofed, and the streets were all cobbled and hard, funneling whatever water and sewer there was through channels where it did not disturb the pedestrians. Strange, two-legged and leathery creatures with sharp quills protruding from the backs of their heads and serrated beaks clacking angrily at passers-by pulled carriages that served as cabs for those willing to part with their gold in favor of convenience. Other cabs were pulled by steam and coal-smoke belching constructs and clanked their way through the streets. Strange birds croaked harsh sounds overhead and squabbled for scraps of food and trash on the street, grubby carnivorous and feral monkeys screamed as they fought for the same scraps, and tiny clockwork creatures like brass insects the size of cats scuttled across the walls, delivering messages and small packages.
Roshan Boh was the only one of the three who was more or less accustomed to the wilds of a large city, so he led the others with a minimum of gawking as they sought out their assigned safe house. Konrad, however, had a nervous feeling. There was a man; tall and thin with a shock of blonde hair, who he saw behind them many times. He could never be sure they were being followed, as he always was looking the other way when he surreptitiously glanced back at him, and yet he continued to stay the same distance behind them. Konrad suddenly veered towards a vending stall, pretending to look at rather poorly made steel knives and other utensils.
"Ah, my good sir, I can see you have a taste for finer…"
"Shut up!" Konrad growled at the obsequious shopkeeper, who quailed under his harsh gaze. Tson and Roshan came up behind him.
"What's going on?" said Tson a bit irritated. He was obviously in a hurry to reach their destination. Konrad took another cautious gaze, and saw that the blonde man had also stopped, and was talking casually with a salesman of parchment bulletins. Some coin changed hands, but the man stayed where he was, looking slightly interested in perhaps picking up another bulletin.
"See that gangly fellow with the sickly yellow hair back there?" he said, pointing slightly with his chin. "He's been following us for at least a quarter mile. I stopped here to see if he's really following us, or just coincidentally going the same direction. And what do you know; he made sure not to pass us up."
Tson cracked his knuckles and took a step towards the man, but Roshan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Not a good idea at the moment, my overly direct friend," he said quietly. "We're close to where he need to go; this is 45th West we're on and the street ahead is 13th North. We only need three more streets straight ahead and six more to the right to arrive at the address I have. Let's split up and see what he does, and meet there." Tson nodded.
So the three of them took separate routes to the house. None of them saw the blonde man, but Roshan worried that was because they hadn't been discreet enough and tipped their hand. He headed in a zigzagging route that took him through the neighborhood, while Konrad headed straight for the house. Tson was the last to arrive, having taken a large spiral route that also gave him an overview of the entire neighborhood at least. He felt much more comfortable about getting around without getting lost for his troubles, although the street numbering system did help in that regard.
Their safe house turned out to be a three-story structure on a relatively quiet residential street, sandwiched carefully between two other buildings. It did have several advantages, however. A large iron-bounded wood front door was the main entrance, but an unobtrusive back door led out into an even quieter alley behind the house. Better yet, there was a roof entrance, and cached unobtrusively on the roof were a number of long ropes with grappling hooks, enabling quick emergency escapes to the ground, or even neighboring rooftops if it came to that. And finally, on the second floor was another heavy iron door that only opened one way, but which when examined, led directly to the abandoned warehouse next door.
"This will do quite nicely," said Roshan, already imagining all kinds of dire consequences of their actions. Their host in the house was a tall, stiffly polite and quiet man named Elroy, who was dressed in a dark uniform.
"I am here to see to your every need," he said stiffly. "Lord Gauvain gave me advance notice that you would be arriving." He indicated a clockwork bug, its movements now quite slow and painful. It needed to be wound quite badly. "I have drawn baths, if that is what you require."
That sounded good to all three of them, so for the next hour or so, they all were quietly soaking in their tubs. Some more quietly than others. "Elroy, can I get something to eat while I'm in here?" called Tson. Afterwards, they were all clothed in clean cloaks and new clothes, although Konrad still preferred his trusty woodsman's garb. They then hit up Elroy for equipment that would come in handy for their investigation.
He led them to a small armory, in which extremely well crafted weapons of various types were stored. Each of the three of them strapped on a gun belt with a pistol, while Tson picked up a wickedly spiked chain, Roshan picked up a light steel rapier, and Konrad hefted a heavy mace with a spiked head. He casually crushed a wooden chair, and then nodded his approval. "Please, sir, that chair is very expensive," said Elroy in a flat voice.
"Any armor here in the ...armory?" asked Tson, but there was not.
"I can commission to have some made for you if I take your measurements, but it will take a few days," said Elroy. Both Tson and Roshan opted to ask for leather jerkins, but Konrad merely sneered at the idea.
They then found a box for petty cash for them to use. "That's your allowance for a week," Elroy said. Roshan emptied all the gold marks and divvied them up amongst the three of them.
Now feeling considerably more confident, as well as cleaner and fuller, the three of them started to discuss strategy. Tson elected to go to the Singing Sword right away to talk to the proprietor before the later shift ended and the tavern became more crowded. They all agreed they should arrive separately. Konrad decided to take a nap.
Looking out from the rooftop for anyone suspicious before he went, Tson satisfied himself that the blonde man was nowhere to be seen and no one else looked like he was up to anything untoward. Then he departed on his own towards Bricktown. The Singing Sword was close to the dark, heavily guarded gates to that blighted ward of the city.
Last edited:
Desdichado
Hero
I had hoped to do one more update, and show Konrad's relatively robust sanity start dropping faster than Bill Clinton's pants, but my vacation starts in a few hours, and I'll be away for two and a half weeks. It's looking increasingly clear that I won't get to it today, which means I won't get to it until the 21st or so of July.
Sorry!
Sorry!
Desdichado
Hero
I've made a few updates to the campaign website, including mirroring the story there, and tomorrow (and the next day, if necessary) I plan on writing another update. We're still only about halfway to where we are in game (if that) and, with any luck, another game session coming up next week.
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