Joachim
First Post
Those wererats were tough, but luckily there's no shortage of tough encounters coming up.Any gaming going on this weekend, JollyDoc?
We'll be playing so long as the good Lord is willing and the water don't rise!
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The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
JollyDoc's Curse of the Crimson Throne: Updated 1/29/10
- Thread starter JollyDoc
- Start date
We'll be playing so long as the good Lord is willing and the water don't rise!
JollyDoc
Explorer
THE MASQUERADE
Had anyone in Trail’s End been down by the riverside at midnight, they would have beheld a truly strange site: four men, three clad in armor, one woman in Varisian skirts, and a large, six-legged dog, all wading into the water until they completely vanished beneath the surface. The K.I.A., following Eries’s directions, had pinpointed the location of the wrecked plague ship and, equipping themselves with water-breathing and swimming elixirs, began the journey that they hoped would finally reveal the truth behind the blood veil outbreak.
Nearly eighty feet below the surface of the Jeggare lay the hulk of the mysterious vessel. Obvious scars from fire and trebuchet strikes marred its broken hull, which lay on its side in two pieces amid the splinters of its mast. The ship had broken over a rock outcropping, its bow fallen to one side and a larger section of the stern on the other. Inside the bow could be seen two splintered decks. Its bowsprit shattered and decks filled with debris, the vessel bore an ominous moniker along its fire-scarred hull: Direption.
The bow was most easily accessible, and it was there the team began their investigation. One-by-one they swam into the shadowy interior, leaving Ratbone behind to cover them. As the druid became more comfortable and experienced with his talents, his use of them began to evolve as well. Though he still wore his familiar canine form, he sported an extra pair of limbs, and both these and his forelimbs bore powerful, clawed hands instead of paws. Thus, when the school of razor-toothed silt eels swarmed out of the rocky outcropping, Ratbone’s tongue lolled from his grinning mouth in anticipation of putting his new skills to use, and he did so with gusto. Snarling more like a shark than a dog, he plunged into the midst of them, grabbing them and rending as well as ripping with his teeth. In short order, nothing remained but a bloody, flesh-filled haze in the water. When he turned back towards his companions, he found them simply staring at him, mouths agape.
The bow seemed to consist mainly of the forecastle and galley, their contents wrecked and disordered. The most interesting thing about the debris, however, was what was not there: there was no evidence of food nor supplies, nor anything in the way of personal goods…almost as if the ship had never held such provisions. The ship’s stern was not so easily accessible. It lay on its side with its broken section flush against the rock. Upon its upper deck, the main hatch was swollen shut, but a yawning wound in the ship’s charred timbers allowed murky water to flow easily through the debris-cluttered hold. Loose timbers, small fish, and dozens of identical boxes floated eerily in the quiet darkness. As Valeris peered through the hole, a sudden flicker of motion came from the corner of his eye. When he turned reflexively, all that he saw were open jaws bearing down on him. Before he could react, a screaming pain lanced through the side of his head as the enormous blue shark bit his ear cleanly off. The duskblade screamed silently, clutching his bleeding head as he convulsed back into the open water. Suddenly, a blur of teeth, fur and claws erupted through the hole as Ratbone lunged at the shark. The druid’s body morphed even further, sprouting black, barbed tentacles from his shoulders, and he attacked the predator with feral savagery. The two animals writhed and twisted in the water, ripping and tearing at one another, but in the end, the giant shark floated belly-up near the roof of the hold. Suddenly, an inchoate scream filled the interior of the ship as a hulking humanoid figure swam from the stern. She was female, though far from human, appearing instead as some sort of amphibious hag. Fish bone fetishes dangled from her neck, wrists and waist, and she clutched a bifurcated spear in one hand. She looked in hate-filled rage at the body of the shark, and then she crouched and pushed herself off the deck, hurtling through the water towards the companions. Ratbone, unfortunately, was too far away to intercept the harridan, and with Valeris still in shock, it was Michael who was directly in her path. She thrust her spear forward and drove it into the priest’s belly, driving him back through the hole. O’Reginald was next in line, and in desperation, the sorcerer conjured a barrage of stones from nothingness, pelting the ravening she-devil with them as he swam out of her reach. She snarled in fury and pulled herself through the hole, pursuing her prey. Unfortunately, Valeris had still not recovered from his mauling, and he found himself at her mercy. In rapid succession, she stabbed and ripped at the duskblade. Panic fluttered like dark wings at Valeris’s mind, and he struggled to make his arms and legs move, but still the hag loomed over him, her spear gripped in both hands for a killing thrust. The blow never came, however, as Ratbone leaped onto the sea hag’s back, all four claws, both tentacles and his ferocious jaws tearing into her. She struggled mightily, but ultimately to no avail, so tenaciously did the druid cling. He clamped his teeth around her neck and held on until her struggles weakened and finally ceased.
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The strange boxes floating throughout the hold were identical, all carved with multiple symbols of skulls. All of them were open, and for the most part, empty, save for a few which contained bits of flesh or dead rats. Beyond the hold lay what appeared to have been an infirmary. Several bent metal bed frames and glass-paned cabinets lay shattered across the floor. The room swirled with a haze of gore, fish heads, and half-eaten eels chumming the circling waters. As they searched among the debris, the companions discovered two intriguing items: a thin, water-tight darkwood coffer, and a sealed version of the skull-carved coffers they had found in the hold. Katarina held the latter of the two in her hands and concentrated, searching for the presence of magic about it. Not surprisingly, she found the taint of necromancy. She focused her spell, trying to read the nature of the dweomer, and when she pinpointed it, her face blanched in shock. The coffer was designed to place items inside in stasis, specifically to preserve infectious materials. It seemed that any item placed within with a disease-ridden item would in turn become infected with the same disease. Understanding began to dawn on her.
The last area of the wreck to be investigated was the captain’s quarters. The door was swollen shut, but it yielded easily before Herc’s shield. Along with a few other bits of ruined furnishings, the scorched sheets of a canopied bed twisted like ghosts above the snapped wooden bed frame. Knotted amid the linens, a drowned corpse wearing the bird-like mask of a Queen’s Physician twirled in the current. Katarina reached up to pull the mask from the corpse’s face, and immediately felt the pulse of magic from it. It was no ordinary doctor’s garb, but instead seemed to both grant the wearer immunity to one specific disease, as well as shielding his mind from magical divination. Kat’s fears began to solidify, and when she pulled an amulet from around the dead man’s neck, they became as hard as diamond. It was a holy symbol of Urgathoa…the Pallid Princess…the goddess of disease…
_____________________________________________________
“So…what are you saying?” Ishani asked, staring open-mouthed at the two coffers on the table in front of him.
“Put the pieces together,” Kat replied. “I think it will be easier once we open the death’s head coffer, especially if it contains what I think it does.”
The priest nodded and muttered a quick prayer to ward himself against infection, then carefully lifted the lid of the coffer. Inside were a dead rat and thirty silver coins, embossed with the seal of Korvosa. Ishani looked questioningly up at Katarina.
“The rats carry blood veil,” Kat explained, “and the box transfers the plague to the coins. There were hundreds of these coffers in the ship’s hold, all empty. The wererats found unopened ones on the shore of the river. The girl you cured had been playing by the river the day before she fell ill. It’s the coins. They’re in circulation throughout the city, spreading the plague. Didn’t you say several of your brethren had fallen ill, despite having remained cloistered within the Bank? Coins.”
“Abadar save us,” Ishani whispered.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kat continued. “We believe the so-called Queen’s Physicians are involved as well. The plague ship was outfitted for a one-way trip. The physician onboard carried the symbol of Urgathoa, and the mask he wore gave him immunity from a single disease, blood veil I’d guess. I assume the same is true of the masks the other doctor’s wear, and if their thoughts are similarly shielded, no one will be able to guess their true intentions until it is too late.”
“But that evidence is circumstantial,” Ishani protested. “Anyone could have disguised the ship’s captain that way to falsely incriminate the doctors.”
“Perhaps this will add credence to our theory,” Kat said as she opened the second coffer they’d found. Within were a collection of ledgers, invoices, and the deed to the Direption, all from a group noted as ‘B7,’ titling one ‘R. Davaulus’ with ownership of the ship and a cargo noted only as ‘specimens.’
“Davaulus?” Ishani asked. “Dr. Davaulus?”
“Do you know another?” Valeris snapped as he rubbed absently at the bandage covering his missing ear.
“I think it’s time we contact Cressida with this information,” Ratbone suggested.
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Ishani said, shaking his head. “You heard her declaration. The Guard has been ordered to cooperate fully with the doctors. She might be compromised, or if she is not, those close to her may be. It might be dangerous for her to know too much at this point.”
“What do you suggest?” Kat asked.
“The Queen’s Physicians have based their operations in an old warehouse they have refurbished and christened the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden. Perhaps that would be a good place to start.”
_________________________________________________________
“Well,” Valeris huffed, “when we decide to do something, we do it right, don’t we? So we’re really just going to march into the stronghold of the Queen’s Physicians and accuse them of murdering several thousand Korvosan citizens?”
“That’s not exactly the plan,” Michael said. “We’re simply going there to see what’s going on. If they have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to fear.”
“Perfect,” Valeris scowled. “Maybe they can write that on your tombstone after you’re beheaded for treason.”
As the company walked down the steps of the Bank of Abadar, a pretty young Varisian woman approached them, clutching her hands tightly.
“Forgive me,” she said in a timid voice, “but I need your help.”
“Of course you do,” Valeris rolled his eyes.
Michael held up a hand to silence the duskblade. “What do you know of us?” the priest asked the woman.
“I know you help people,” the girl said, her eyes welling, “and I need assistance. You see, my brother is missing. My name is Deyanira Mirukova, and my brother is Ruan.”
“Ruan Mirukova?” Kat asked. “The young prodigy of the ocarina?”
“You’ve heard of him!” Deyanira’s eyes brightened. “My brother and I live together off Overton Way, not far from the Marbledome. I work there as a chorus girl and Ruan plays in the orchestra. Several days ago, however, he came home very excited, delighted that he had been personally requested to perform at a private masquerade at Carowyn Manor. You know of the Carowyn’s?”
“Art patrons,” Kat nodded. “Very lavish party hosts.”
“Yes,” Deyanira said. “Well, Ruan bought a new outfit, practiced a challenging new arrangement, and left early the evening of the event. That was several days ago, though, and that was the last time I saw him. When he didn’t return the entire next day, I went to the Carowyn estate, but it seemed as if it were abandoned…the entrance was locked, its windows were tightly curtained, and a sickly smell issued from behind the front door. I went to the Guard, but they seemed either unable or unwilling to help me. I didn’t know where else to turn. I have little to offer in way of reward, but all that I have is yours if you help me find Ruan.”
“Yes, well, we’re a little busy ourselves at the moment…” Valeris began.
“Of course we’ll help you,” Ratbone interrupted. “Our current business takes us quite near Southshore. It will be no trouble for us to make a stop by the Carowyn manor on our way.”
“Thank you!” Deyanira dissolved into tears, clutching Ratbone’s hand as she collapsed to her knees. Valeris narrowed his eyes, giving the druid a murderous look.
__________________________________________________
The Carowyn estate was a stately manor located along Shoreline Way. Festooned with cinderberry garlands and bright red drapes, the limestone façade was surrounded by a high hedge, obscuring the inner yard. As Deyanira had described, there was no sign of life about the house. The curtains were drawn across the windows, and the heavy front doors were locked. Also as Deyanira had said, a foul smell of decay hung thick in the air about the entryway. Katarina bowed her head and concentrated, using her magic to probe for the thoughts of any living minds within the house. To her surprise, she discovered two such individuals, though she could read nothing from them. It seemed that the only way in would be to break in, which might attract undue attention, or check for other means of entrance. Katarina quickly wove another spell, creating an illusory image of the front of the house, and concealing she and her friends behind it. Then Ratbone shifted his form to that of a large bird, easily the size of a condor or larger. He lifted his comrades in his talons, one-by-one, and deposited them on the far side of the hedge. There they found a smaller servant’s residence and a meticulously manicured garden, complete with a gazebo and a pond full of Ember Lake charigs, tiny salamanders that glowed in the dark. They also found a back door.
The door was unlocked and lead into a foul-weather room, and then into a small sitting room. Another door at the far side opened onto the great hall, and there, any thought that things were normal at Carowyn Manor quickly vanished. A massacre had taken place there. Upon the marble floor and heaped in the corners lay more than a dozen corpses, each clad in garish outfits of sequined velvet, revealing silk, and colorful feathers. Masks of all shapes and sizes…each competing with the last in terms of elaborateness…adorned the dead. In several cases, though, those fanciful adornments had fallen away, to reveal withered flesh covered in nauseating facial tumors. Most horrifyingly, upon a blood-slick space cleared at the room’s center swayed four couples, jerking like hellish dancers, all obviously dead. In a den off the main hall could be seen four more zombies, two of which wore matching lion and lioness masks and sat before an empty fireplace, with the other two dressed as peacocks and holding silver serving trays, attending them.
As the six companions moved slowly into the hall, the corpses turned slowly towards them and then began shuffling forward, moaning hollowly as they came. For the K.I.A., it was almost like shooting fish in a barrel. Ratbone, once more in his canine form, again sporting extra limbs and ripping claws, tore into the horde like a fox among hens. Michael glowed like a beacon as he channeled holy power into the walking dead, burning them to ash in Iomedae’s light, and O’Reginald crushed the remainder beneath a hail of fist-sized rock. As the last zombie fell, however, a high-pitched woman’s voice rang out in laughter from somewhere on the gallery above the main floor.
“I hope you’re enjoying my masquerade,” she cackled. “I promise you much more entertainment. Please, make yourselves at home!”
Snarling, Ratbone changed his shape again, assuming the guise of a four-armed ape as he charged up the stairs, followed closely by Valeris, Herc and Michael. Finely framed works of art covered the walls of the gallery which overlooked the hall below. Great windows looked out to the west and south, and an alcove to the east was set with chairs for musicians. In mockery of the room’s beauty, several costumed corpses stood about the hall, some posed like ghastly statues while others stood like contemplative critics. Roaring, Ratbone tore into the zombies, his companions at his back. Kat and O’Reginald remained below, watching for any sign of their unseen adversary. Suddenly, a piercing scream split the air, followed by a much more human one. Ratbone whirled, and saw an elven woman, dressed in a garish harlequin costume, standing on the far side of the gallery, a crossbow in her hands. Below, O’Reginald moaned and swooned in a daze, clutching weakly at a glowing bolt that protruded from his chest. Ratbone howled and leaped across the intervening distance, but the elf was too fast. She vaulted nimbly over the balcony and landed in the hall below in a rolling crouch. As she came to her feet, however, Katarina was ready for her. The beguiler spread her hands as a blinding wave of color burst forth from them. The elven woman shrieked, clawing frantically at her eyes as she tried in vain to clear her vision. In an instant, Ratbone leaped from the balcony and grabbed the elf in an inescapable bear hug. She grunted and snarled, and reached towards a pouch at her waist, pawing for flask there. Ratbone bared his teeth and bit deeply into her neck, a spray of arterial blood drenching his face. The woman screamed.
“Mercy!” she begged. “Spare me!”
For a moment, the druid paused, but then the thought of the corpse-filled house entered his mind, as well as the profane atrocity visited upon some of them via the elf’s foul necromancy. His thoughts dissolved into a blood haze and he bit down harder. He did not release his grip until he felt the woman go limp in his arms.
Valeris, Herc and Michael made quick work of the zombies in the gallery, and then scoured the rest of the manor, dispatching more obscene parodies of life as they found them. Yet among all of the dead and undead, they found no sign of Ruan. Finally, all of the companions made their way down to the cellar. There they found a well-stocked wine rack and several large casks lining the walls. A small wooden door squatted in the southeastern corner. It was locked tight, but Ratbone easily tore it from its hinges. Within was what appeared to be a makeshift artist’s studio. Among the painting supplies, a tawdry-looking divan, a small shrine to Shelyn, and several scandalous portraits of Mrs. Carowyn, was a terrified middle-aged man dressed in the shredded remains of a costume, holding a dull paint knife in his shaking hand. Katarina stepped in front of the hulking ape-druid, and held out her empty hands.
“We’re here to help,” she said calmly. “Who are you?”
“M…my name,” the man stammered, “is Ausio Carowyn. Th…this is…was…my house.”
“Can you tell us what happened here?” Kat asked.
“We were holding our masked ball,” Ausio said, his eyes still round with fear, “trying to make people forget the gloom and dread of the plague, when the elf woman entered. No one invited her, yet she acted as if she owned the place. She…began shooting our guests with her crossbow, and each one struck immediately began showing signs of blood veil. I…I had no choice. I fled down here and locked myself in. I’ve been here for days! I could still hear footsteps and moans coming from above. Have you seen my wife? Have you seen Olauren?”
“Coward,” Valeris muttered.
“I’m sorry,” Kat said aloud, “but we have found no survivors save the elf, and we have dealt with her. Tell us, have you seen a boy named Ruan, an ocarina player?”
“Yes…yes,” Ausio nodded. “A brilliant lad. The last time I saw him, he was in the gallery.”
“I see,” Kat said. “And is this all that you know, Ausio? Can you think of any reason why this woman would attack you and your guests unprovoked?”
“No!” Ausio shook his head vehemently. “She was insane! I swear it!”
Katarina drew her Harrow deck from her skirts and began shuffling the cards nimbly through her fingers. Ausio’s eyes were drawn to them, mesmerized. Kat chanted in a low voice as she shuffled. Ausio’s stare became blank, his jaw slack.
“Here now!” Michael protested. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure he’s telling the truth,” Kat said. “A minor enchantment.”
“You have no right!” the priest shouted. “This man is not our enemy! He’s broken no law! He’s as much a victim here as those upstairs!”
“I’m not harming him,” Kat said. “I simply want him to answer my questions honestly.”
“I’ll have no part of this,” Michael snapped. “This is unlawful and immoral! I’d come to expect better of you.”
He turned on his heel and left the room.
“Another bleeding heart,” Valeris chuckled.
“You’ll want to keep that tongue of yours in check,” Ratbone said in a calm, yet dangerous voice, once more in his normal form, “unless you want to be absent it as well as your ear.”
______________________________________________________
It turned out that Ausio Carowyn knew no more than he’d professed, and the companions were forced to return to Deyanira empty-handed. Even the news that her brother was not among the dead did little to relieve her concerns. She entreated them to keep an eye out for Ruan, and to come to her with any rumor of him they might hear. Still distraught, she solemnly excused herself from their company.
Had anyone in Trail’s End been down by the riverside at midnight, they would have beheld a truly strange site: four men, three clad in armor, one woman in Varisian skirts, and a large, six-legged dog, all wading into the water until they completely vanished beneath the surface. The K.I.A., following Eries’s directions, had pinpointed the location of the wrecked plague ship and, equipping themselves with water-breathing and swimming elixirs, began the journey that they hoped would finally reveal the truth behind the blood veil outbreak.
Nearly eighty feet below the surface of the Jeggare lay the hulk of the mysterious vessel. Obvious scars from fire and trebuchet strikes marred its broken hull, which lay on its side in two pieces amid the splinters of its mast. The ship had broken over a rock outcropping, its bow fallen to one side and a larger section of the stern on the other. Inside the bow could be seen two splintered decks. Its bowsprit shattered and decks filled with debris, the vessel bore an ominous moniker along its fire-scarred hull: Direption.
The bow was most easily accessible, and it was there the team began their investigation. One-by-one they swam into the shadowy interior, leaving Ratbone behind to cover them. As the druid became more comfortable and experienced with his talents, his use of them began to evolve as well. Though he still wore his familiar canine form, he sported an extra pair of limbs, and both these and his forelimbs bore powerful, clawed hands instead of paws. Thus, when the school of razor-toothed silt eels swarmed out of the rocky outcropping, Ratbone’s tongue lolled from his grinning mouth in anticipation of putting his new skills to use, and he did so with gusto. Snarling more like a shark than a dog, he plunged into the midst of them, grabbing them and rending as well as ripping with his teeth. In short order, nothing remained but a bloody, flesh-filled haze in the water. When he turned back towards his companions, he found them simply staring at him, mouths agape.
The bow seemed to consist mainly of the forecastle and galley, their contents wrecked and disordered. The most interesting thing about the debris, however, was what was not there: there was no evidence of food nor supplies, nor anything in the way of personal goods…almost as if the ship had never held such provisions. The ship’s stern was not so easily accessible. It lay on its side with its broken section flush against the rock. Upon its upper deck, the main hatch was swollen shut, but a yawning wound in the ship’s charred timbers allowed murky water to flow easily through the debris-cluttered hold. Loose timbers, small fish, and dozens of identical boxes floated eerily in the quiet darkness. As Valeris peered through the hole, a sudden flicker of motion came from the corner of his eye. When he turned reflexively, all that he saw were open jaws bearing down on him. Before he could react, a screaming pain lanced through the side of his head as the enormous blue shark bit his ear cleanly off. The duskblade screamed silently, clutching his bleeding head as he convulsed back into the open water. Suddenly, a blur of teeth, fur and claws erupted through the hole as Ratbone lunged at the shark. The druid’s body morphed even further, sprouting black, barbed tentacles from his shoulders, and he attacked the predator with feral savagery. The two animals writhed and twisted in the water, ripping and tearing at one another, but in the end, the giant shark floated belly-up near the roof of the hold. Suddenly, an inchoate scream filled the interior of the ship as a hulking humanoid figure swam from the stern. She was female, though far from human, appearing instead as some sort of amphibious hag. Fish bone fetishes dangled from her neck, wrists and waist, and she clutched a bifurcated spear in one hand. She looked in hate-filled rage at the body of the shark, and then she crouched and pushed herself off the deck, hurtling through the water towards the companions. Ratbone, unfortunately, was too far away to intercept the harridan, and with Valeris still in shock, it was Michael who was directly in her path. She thrust her spear forward and drove it into the priest’s belly, driving him back through the hole. O’Reginald was next in line, and in desperation, the sorcerer conjured a barrage of stones from nothingness, pelting the ravening she-devil with them as he swam out of her reach. She snarled in fury and pulled herself through the hole, pursuing her prey. Unfortunately, Valeris had still not recovered from his mauling, and he found himself at her mercy. In rapid succession, she stabbed and ripped at the duskblade. Panic fluttered like dark wings at Valeris’s mind, and he struggled to make his arms and legs move, but still the hag loomed over him, her spear gripped in both hands for a killing thrust. The blow never came, however, as Ratbone leaped onto the sea hag’s back, all four claws, both tentacles and his ferocious jaws tearing into her. She struggled mightily, but ultimately to no avail, so tenaciously did the druid cling. He clamped his teeth around her neck and held on until her struggles weakened and finally ceased.
_________________________________________________________
The strange boxes floating throughout the hold were identical, all carved with multiple symbols of skulls. All of them were open, and for the most part, empty, save for a few which contained bits of flesh or dead rats. Beyond the hold lay what appeared to have been an infirmary. Several bent metal bed frames and glass-paned cabinets lay shattered across the floor. The room swirled with a haze of gore, fish heads, and half-eaten eels chumming the circling waters. As they searched among the debris, the companions discovered two intriguing items: a thin, water-tight darkwood coffer, and a sealed version of the skull-carved coffers they had found in the hold. Katarina held the latter of the two in her hands and concentrated, searching for the presence of magic about it. Not surprisingly, she found the taint of necromancy. She focused her spell, trying to read the nature of the dweomer, and when she pinpointed it, her face blanched in shock. The coffer was designed to place items inside in stasis, specifically to preserve infectious materials. It seemed that any item placed within with a disease-ridden item would in turn become infected with the same disease. Understanding began to dawn on her.
The last area of the wreck to be investigated was the captain’s quarters. The door was swollen shut, but it yielded easily before Herc’s shield. Along with a few other bits of ruined furnishings, the scorched sheets of a canopied bed twisted like ghosts above the snapped wooden bed frame. Knotted amid the linens, a drowned corpse wearing the bird-like mask of a Queen’s Physician twirled in the current. Katarina reached up to pull the mask from the corpse’s face, and immediately felt the pulse of magic from it. It was no ordinary doctor’s garb, but instead seemed to both grant the wearer immunity to one specific disease, as well as shielding his mind from magical divination. Kat’s fears began to solidify, and when she pulled an amulet from around the dead man’s neck, they became as hard as diamond. It was a holy symbol of Urgathoa…the Pallid Princess…the goddess of disease…
_____________________________________________________
“So…what are you saying?” Ishani asked, staring open-mouthed at the two coffers on the table in front of him.
“Put the pieces together,” Kat replied. “I think it will be easier once we open the death’s head coffer, especially if it contains what I think it does.”
The priest nodded and muttered a quick prayer to ward himself against infection, then carefully lifted the lid of the coffer. Inside were a dead rat and thirty silver coins, embossed with the seal of Korvosa. Ishani looked questioningly up at Katarina.
“The rats carry blood veil,” Kat explained, “and the box transfers the plague to the coins. There were hundreds of these coffers in the ship’s hold, all empty. The wererats found unopened ones on the shore of the river. The girl you cured had been playing by the river the day before she fell ill. It’s the coins. They’re in circulation throughout the city, spreading the plague. Didn’t you say several of your brethren had fallen ill, despite having remained cloistered within the Bank? Coins.”
“Abadar save us,” Ishani whispered.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kat continued. “We believe the so-called Queen’s Physicians are involved as well. The plague ship was outfitted for a one-way trip. The physician onboard carried the symbol of Urgathoa, and the mask he wore gave him immunity from a single disease, blood veil I’d guess. I assume the same is true of the masks the other doctor’s wear, and if their thoughts are similarly shielded, no one will be able to guess their true intentions until it is too late.”
“But that evidence is circumstantial,” Ishani protested. “Anyone could have disguised the ship’s captain that way to falsely incriminate the doctors.”
“Perhaps this will add credence to our theory,” Kat said as she opened the second coffer they’d found. Within were a collection of ledgers, invoices, and the deed to the Direption, all from a group noted as ‘B7,’ titling one ‘R. Davaulus’ with ownership of the ship and a cargo noted only as ‘specimens.’
“Davaulus?” Ishani asked. “Dr. Davaulus?”
“Do you know another?” Valeris snapped as he rubbed absently at the bandage covering his missing ear.
“I think it’s time we contact Cressida with this information,” Ratbone suggested.
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Ishani said, shaking his head. “You heard her declaration. The Guard has been ordered to cooperate fully with the doctors. She might be compromised, or if she is not, those close to her may be. It might be dangerous for her to know too much at this point.”
“What do you suggest?” Kat asked.
“The Queen’s Physicians have based their operations in an old warehouse they have refurbished and christened the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden. Perhaps that would be a good place to start.”
_________________________________________________________
“Well,” Valeris huffed, “when we decide to do something, we do it right, don’t we? So we’re really just going to march into the stronghold of the Queen’s Physicians and accuse them of murdering several thousand Korvosan citizens?”
“That’s not exactly the plan,” Michael said. “We’re simply going there to see what’s going on. If they have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to fear.”
“Perfect,” Valeris scowled. “Maybe they can write that on your tombstone after you’re beheaded for treason.”
As the company walked down the steps of the Bank of Abadar, a pretty young Varisian woman approached them, clutching her hands tightly.
“Forgive me,” she said in a timid voice, “but I need your help.”
“Of course you do,” Valeris rolled his eyes.
Michael held up a hand to silence the duskblade. “What do you know of us?” the priest asked the woman.
“I know you help people,” the girl said, her eyes welling, “and I need assistance. You see, my brother is missing. My name is Deyanira Mirukova, and my brother is Ruan.”
“Ruan Mirukova?” Kat asked. “The young prodigy of the ocarina?”
“You’ve heard of him!” Deyanira’s eyes brightened. “My brother and I live together off Overton Way, not far from the Marbledome. I work there as a chorus girl and Ruan plays in the orchestra. Several days ago, however, he came home very excited, delighted that he had been personally requested to perform at a private masquerade at Carowyn Manor. You know of the Carowyn’s?”
“Art patrons,” Kat nodded. “Very lavish party hosts.”
“Yes,” Deyanira said. “Well, Ruan bought a new outfit, practiced a challenging new arrangement, and left early the evening of the event. That was several days ago, though, and that was the last time I saw him. When he didn’t return the entire next day, I went to the Carowyn estate, but it seemed as if it were abandoned…the entrance was locked, its windows were tightly curtained, and a sickly smell issued from behind the front door. I went to the Guard, but they seemed either unable or unwilling to help me. I didn’t know where else to turn. I have little to offer in way of reward, but all that I have is yours if you help me find Ruan.”
“Yes, well, we’re a little busy ourselves at the moment…” Valeris began.
“Of course we’ll help you,” Ratbone interrupted. “Our current business takes us quite near Southshore. It will be no trouble for us to make a stop by the Carowyn manor on our way.”
“Thank you!” Deyanira dissolved into tears, clutching Ratbone’s hand as she collapsed to her knees. Valeris narrowed his eyes, giving the druid a murderous look.
__________________________________________________
The Carowyn estate was a stately manor located along Shoreline Way. Festooned with cinderberry garlands and bright red drapes, the limestone façade was surrounded by a high hedge, obscuring the inner yard. As Deyanira had described, there was no sign of life about the house. The curtains were drawn across the windows, and the heavy front doors were locked. Also as Deyanira had said, a foul smell of decay hung thick in the air about the entryway. Katarina bowed her head and concentrated, using her magic to probe for the thoughts of any living minds within the house. To her surprise, she discovered two such individuals, though she could read nothing from them. It seemed that the only way in would be to break in, which might attract undue attention, or check for other means of entrance. Katarina quickly wove another spell, creating an illusory image of the front of the house, and concealing she and her friends behind it. Then Ratbone shifted his form to that of a large bird, easily the size of a condor or larger. He lifted his comrades in his talons, one-by-one, and deposited them on the far side of the hedge. There they found a smaller servant’s residence and a meticulously manicured garden, complete with a gazebo and a pond full of Ember Lake charigs, tiny salamanders that glowed in the dark. They also found a back door.
The door was unlocked and lead into a foul-weather room, and then into a small sitting room. Another door at the far side opened onto the great hall, and there, any thought that things were normal at Carowyn Manor quickly vanished. A massacre had taken place there. Upon the marble floor and heaped in the corners lay more than a dozen corpses, each clad in garish outfits of sequined velvet, revealing silk, and colorful feathers. Masks of all shapes and sizes…each competing with the last in terms of elaborateness…adorned the dead. In several cases, though, those fanciful adornments had fallen away, to reveal withered flesh covered in nauseating facial tumors. Most horrifyingly, upon a blood-slick space cleared at the room’s center swayed four couples, jerking like hellish dancers, all obviously dead. In a den off the main hall could be seen four more zombies, two of which wore matching lion and lioness masks and sat before an empty fireplace, with the other two dressed as peacocks and holding silver serving trays, attending them.
As the six companions moved slowly into the hall, the corpses turned slowly towards them and then began shuffling forward, moaning hollowly as they came. For the K.I.A., it was almost like shooting fish in a barrel. Ratbone, once more in his canine form, again sporting extra limbs and ripping claws, tore into the horde like a fox among hens. Michael glowed like a beacon as he channeled holy power into the walking dead, burning them to ash in Iomedae’s light, and O’Reginald crushed the remainder beneath a hail of fist-sized rock. As the last zombie fell, however, a high-pitched woman’s voice rang out in laughter from somewhere on the gallery above the main floor.
“I hope you’re enjoying my masquerade,” she cackled. “I promise you much more entertainment. Please, make yourselves at home!”
Snarling, Ratbone changed his shape again, assuming the guise of a four-armed ape as he charged up the stairs, followed closely by Valeris, Herc and Michael. Finely framed works of art covered the walls of the gallery which overlooked the hall below. Great windows looked out to the west and south, and an alcove to the east was set with chairs for musicians. In mockery of the room’s beauty, several costumed corpses stood about the hall, some posed like ghastly statues while others stood like contemplative critics. Roaring, Ratbone tore into the zombies, his companions at his back. Kat and O’Reginald remained below, watching for any sign of their unseen adversary. Suddenly, a piercing scream split the air, followed by a much more human one. Ratbone whirled, and saw an elven woman, dressed in a garish harlequin costume, standing on the far side of the gallery, a crossbow in her hands. Below, O’Reginald moaned and swooned in a daze, clutching weakly at a glowing bolt that protruded from his chest. Ratbone howled and leaped across the intervening distance, but the elf was too fast. She vaulted nimbly over the balcony and landed in the hall below in a rolling crouch. As she came to her feet, however, Katarina was ready for her. The beguiler spread her hands as a blinding wave of color burst forth from them. The elven woman shrieked, clawing frantically at her eyes as she tried in vain to clear her vision. In an instant, Ratbone leaped from the balcony and grabbed the elf in an inescapable bear hug. She grunted and snarled, and reached towards a pouch at her waist, pawing for flask there. Ratbone bared his teeth and bit deeply into her neck, a spray of arterial blood drenching his face. The woman screamed.
“Mercy!” she begged. “Spare me!”
For a moment, the druid paused, but then the thought of the corpse-filled house entered his mind, as well as the profane atrocity visited upon some of them via the elf’s foul necromancy. His thoughts dissolved into a blood haze and he bit down harder. He did not release his grip until he felt the woman go limp in his arms.
Valeris, Herc and Michael made quick work of the zombies in the gallery, and then scoured the rest of the manor, dispatching more obscene parodies of life as they found them. Yet among all of the dead and undead, they found no sign of Ruan. Finally, all of the companions made their way down to the cellar. There they found a well-stocked wine rack and several large casks lining the walls. A small wooden door squatted in the southeastern corner. It was locked tight, but Ratbone easily tore it from its hinges. Within was what appeared to be a makeshift artist’s studio. Among the painting supplies, a tawdry-looking divan, a small shrine to Shelyn, and several scandalous portraits of Mrs. Carowyn, was a terrified middle-aged man dressed in the shredded remains of a costume, holding a dull paint knife in his shaking hand. Katarina stepped in front of the hulking ape-druid, and held out her empty hands.
“We’re here to help,” she said calmly. “Who are you?”
“M…my name,” the man stammered, “is Ausio Carowyn. Th…this is…was…my house.”
“Can you tell us what happened here?” Kat asked.
“We were holding our masked ball,” Ausio said, his eyes still round with fear, “trying to make people forget the gloom and dread of the plague, when the elf woman entered. No one invited her, yet she acted as if she owned the place. She…began shooting our guests with her crossbow, and each one struck immediately began showing signs of blood veil. I…I had no choice. I fled down here and locked myself in. I’ve been here for days! I could still hear footsteps and moans coming from above. Have you seen my wife? Have you seen Olauren?”
“Coward,” Valeris muttered.
“I’m sorry,” Kat said aloud, “but we have found no survivors save the elf, and we have dealt with her. Tell us, have you seen a boy named Ruan, an ocarina player?”
“Yes…yes,” Ausio nodded. “A brilliant lad. The last time I saw him, he was in the gallery.”
“I see,” Kat said. “And is this all that you know, Ausio? Can you think of any reason why this woman would attack you and your guests unprovoked?”
“No!” Ausio shook his head vehemently. “She was insane! I swear it!”
Katarina drew her Harrow deck from her skirts and began shuffling the cards nimbly through her fingers. Ausio’s eyes were drawn to them, mesmerized. Kat chanted in a low voice as she shuffled. Ausio’s stare became blank, his jaw slack.
“Here now!” Michael protested. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure he’s telling the truth,” Kat said. “A minor enchantment.”
“You have no right!” the priest shouted. “This man is not our enemy! He’s broken no law! He’s as much a victim here as those upstairs!”
“I’m not harming him,” Kat said. “I simply want him to answer my questions honestly.”
“I’ll have no part of this,” Michael snapped. “This is unlawful and immoral! I’d come to expect better of you.”
He turned on his heel and left the room.
“Another bleeding heart,” Valeris chuckled.
“You’ll want to keep that tongue of yours in check,” Ratbone said in a calm, yet dangerous voice, once more in his normal form, “unless you want to be absent it as well as your ear.”
______________________________________________________
It turned out that Ausio Carowyn knew no more than he’d professed, and the companions were forced to return to Deyanira empty-handed. Even the news that her brother was not among the dead did little to relieve her concerns. She entreated them to keep an eye out for Ruan, and to come to her with any rumor of him they might hear. Still distraught, she solemnly excused herself from their company.
JollyDoc
Explorer
Yeah, we hadn't heard that one either. Joachim enlightened us last night.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Very nice resolution underwater. I had expected a little more trouble, there. Before Ratbone, my opinion on druids was not the best, but he reads like a great allrounder. 
Was Michael really so upset about the lie detection? Is he also an exalted character?
Was Michael really so upset about the lie detection? Is he also an exalted character?
Joachim
First Post
I am using the Shapeshifter variant from PHB2. Lets you shift all of the time, but limits the effect of the shifting and what you gain from the forms.
I also have taken the Vow of Poverty, so between druid spells, shapeshifting abilities, VoP boosts, and feats there are absolutely no 'dead' levels. He's fun, and I am enjoying playing him.
JollyDoc
Explorer
Add in Girallon Claws and Evard's Grasping Tentacles, and you have an abomination the likes of which haven't been seen since Demogorgon!!
