Shackled City put through a blender (updated 7-23)

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I decided to run the Shackled City AP for my group, but I've made quite a few changes, and the players are notorious for making a shambles of nicely established plotlines. The writing is mostly inspired by JollyDoc's. I hope this plug for his SH will make up for any cool phrases I might steal from it. ;-) I will try to include DM commentary wherever appropriate.

PCs at start of campaign:

• Monterey Jack, male human Swashbuckler 1
• Oberyn Tercival, male human Hexblade 1
• Simon Filigree, male human Rogue 1
• Tateland of Griffondale, male human Cleric 1 (St. Cuthbert)

 

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And The Caravan Is On Its Way, I Can Hear The Merry Gypsies Play

[smallcaps]Starday, Harvester 1.[/smallcaps]

Clouds marred the late summer sky on the first morning of Harvester in the year 582 as Bolgrim Urjak's four-wagon caravan transporting foodstuffs rumbled noisily across the great stone bridge connecting the port city of Griffondale with the west-bank shantytown of Scumport.

Waiting on the opposite side of the bridge were three travellers. The tall, dark-haired man in the middle--the only one on a horse--held up his hand. "We will go with you to Cauldron Keep," he said, as if the point were not to be challenged.

The dwarf reined in the lead wagon and look over the trio. He pointed to Monterey Jack, one of the men on foot, who was a flamboyantly dressed figure resting his hand on a sheathed rapier.

"You," grumbled the caravan master. "You willing to bloody that blade of yours if brigands attack us?"

"I am," said Jack.

The portly dwarf turned his gaze to the other man on foot, a priest of St. Cuthbert named Tateland. "What about you, priest? Have you taken any vows against bloodshed?"

"I am no stranger to violence," said Tateland, "and I have dealt with the lawless before." He smacked the head of his heavy mace into his palm to emphasize his point.

Finally Bolgrim looked at the man on the horse who had stopped him. "What about you? Are you going to protect this caravan?"

"I promise nothing," scoffed Oberyn, for that was his name. "I am not a simple sword for hire to be ordered into battle."

"Then you will receive nothing from me," said Bolgrim, "and you'd best not cause any trouble. You other two," he looked at the men on foot, "can ride if you're willing to keep me and the boys here safe."

Jack and Tateland agreed and climbed aboard the wagons. Oberyn turned his horse alongside.

The caravan made its way along the broadest avenue of Scumport to the western trail that led into the mountains. There a small tax was to be paid. Bolgrim paid for everyone but Oberyn, who paid a couple of silver legions for his own.

[sblock=GM commentary]I set the campaign in the southern Hold of the Sea Princes proper--specifically the Kamph Mountains--at the start of the Greyhawk Wars. Accordingly, you'll see references to the Scarlet Brotherhood taking over the Sea Princes... Also Sasserine has been replaced with Griffondale, the largest city in the Margraviate of Throff.

Most of the first session was devoted to foreshadowing future events while they travelled to Cauldron Keep, which is simply Cauldron from the AP laid over the old Adlerweg Keep idea.
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A Farewell To Kings

"I thought it was customary to levy taxes upon entering a city, not leaving one," muttered Oberyn as he caught up with the caravan and rode next to Tateland.

"These are Yem's men," said Tateland in disgust. "They straddle the line between taxation and extortion."

"Who is Yem? I thought the Margraf's name was Tinardo?"

"Obviously news comes slow to Redgorge. The Princes have fallen. Well, most of 'em anyway. In Richfest not eight weeks ago, 27 of the 30 council nobles were slain in a single night. Many of them lost their families, too. Yem was Tinardo's advisor, so he's been running the place ever since."

"Twenty-seven nobles slain in one night?" asked Oberyn incredulously. "Who is capable of such a feat?"

Jack had been listening in on the conversation, and now he spoke up. "The Scarlet Banner, that's who. Nobody knows much about them, 'cept they sent a messenger from across the sea. The Council of Princes just laughed at their demands."

"This Scarlet Banner group must have had agents in high places," said Oberyn, "all across the eastern Hold, maybe farther. Can you imagine how long it must have taken to infiltrate that many palaces and keeps?"

Tateland nodded. "And now everyone in authority must answer to a Scarlet Brother."

***

The wagon train had crossed a couple of bridges and reached a tiny village named Hollowsky when Bolgrim called a halt for a mid-day meal.

"Is there no tavern here?" asked Oberyn, looking around. The village had no discernable establishments for travellers. Aside from a mill and lumberyard, all of the structures seemed to be homes. Everyone ate in silence on the wagons.

Soon the trip resumed, but within an hour another halt was called. Shortly after entering a patch of woodlands, one of the lead wagons had struck a fallen limb and broken a wheel.

Jack and Tateland scaned the surrounding woods for any sign of an ambush. Oberyn merely rolled his eyes and looked on in boredom as two of the wagoneers--sullen looking gypies named Arturo and Zachariah--replaced the wheel while the third, a younger and less broadly built man named Simon, stood atop his wagon scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble, the glint of a knife visible in his hand.

In short order the caravan set off again along the road, eventually meeting the long shadow of the mountains stretching out to encompass them as the sun fell behind the Kamph mountains.

The wagons passed through another flyspeck of a village, crossed a stone bridge, and came to a halt outside of a massive wooden structure called the Lucky Monkey. The building was old and well used--the chimneys stained with soot, the roof sagging, the wood siding weathered and stained from last year's mildew.

The stable to which Bolgrim steered the wagons was smaller but in similar condition. Bolgrim oversaw the activities of the three wagon-drivers in securing the caravan for the night, then with his chest puffed out, he led the entourage toward the tavern. "Meals and board are on your own coin," he said, almost as an afterthought.

The façade of the Lucky Monkey sported numerous carved wooden monkeys, many engaged in risky, death-defying stunts. Above the front double doors, a wooden monkey was shown balancing on a narrow tree branch to get a banana hanging over the sleeping tiger that was sprawled in relief across the two heavy doors.

Bolgrim and the wagon-drivers sat at the first available table while Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland surveyed the scene. The large common room into which they walked wasn't crowded. At a table to their left sat an elderly gentleman with thinning white hair and beard, who wore simple brown robes. A gnarled staff leaned against the wall behind him. Next to him sat a half-olven woman with long silver hair and dusky skin. Beyond their table, other patrons could be glimpsed sitting at a long table in a private area.

To the right was a stage area, upon which a gangly young man stumbled as he sang loudly and off-key, waving a blue bottle wildly in one hand to punctuate his refrain. At the table directly in front of the stage were two men and two women. The women were a middle-aged blonde and a more scantily clad younger woman with short, fiery hair and red tatoos on her face. The men were a dark-skinned Olman in a dirty leather vest and an overweight pasty-faced man.

As the travellers stood wondering where to sit, the pasty-faced man cracked a joke about the "dwarf's lost lackeys," and the others laughed. Oberyn shot back his own snide remark, and the patron half-stood as if to confront him, but the red-head snapped her fingers and he sat back down.

"Good dog," muttered Oberyn.

 

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Let's Spend the Night Together

Ysa was tired and bored. If that pudgy one named Feristin pinched her on the rump again, so help her, she was going to spill hot soup in his lap. She leaned against the bar and dreamed of leaving this place, going off to live in a city with a handsome lord. She knew nothing of the world beyond Kingfisher Hollow and the Lucky Monkey.

Her face brightened when another group of visitors arrived. Among them were several young men, and more than one were clothed in finery and appeared well-groomed. She watched with interest as they began to claim tables, then she rushed to gather their orders.

***

Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland walked up to the long bar, carved into which were the images of numerous cavorting monkeys. After paying for their rooms from the owner, Orin Marsh, the trio headed to a table at the other end of the stage, but Orin spoke up as Tateland walked by. "Oh, sorry, you'll want the far room."

Tateland looked quizzically at him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, ain't you with the priest? You're one of them Cuthbert folks, aren't you?" He motioned to Tateland's holy symbol.

"I am a servant of St. Cuthbert," agreed Tateland. "But I am with these men. Who else is here of that faith?"

Orin apologised, "I figured you was with the high priest. Sorry to bother. Sit where you like."

"Thank you. Perhaps it would be best if I spoke with the high priest."

"You know your own business," answered Orin. "Want me to pop over and ask him if can take a visitor?"

"Yes, please."

While Orin stepped away, Ysa appeared and took the gentlemen's requests for freshly cooked boar. Oberyn added a bottle of Tavonin Blackberry to the order.

Orin returned to invite Tateland to the private banquet hall on the west side of the building, and Tateland left.

Meanwhile, Ysa returned with the food and drink. She had kept her eye on Oberyn, dropping the not-so-subtle hint that her room could be found up the east stairs, the second door on the right.

Watching all of this unfold, Jack looked around for someone to invite him to a private party. His eye fell on the red-haired woman at the other table, and he found that she too was eying him, though not perhaps with the same intention.

"Bring a round of drinks for the group near the stage," Jack asked Ysa, "on me." He spoke these words loud enough that the men and women at that table would hear them over the ramblings of their rowdier compatriot on the stage. He called out in the tongue of the Olman, "To mend our rocky start."

***

High Priest Sarcem Delasharn was seated at the head of the long table in the banquet hall. On either side of the table sat devout men-at-arms. All three had solemn expressions and bore the symbol of St. Cuthbert.

Tateland strode forward and gave a brief bow. "High Priest."

Sarcem stood and waved Tateland to a seat. "Please, brother, sit and eat."

"I thank you for the generosity. I can always eat." Tateland tore a leg from the roast pheasant on the platter in the centre of the table. "I am merely an acolyte of the order, Father, so forgive my rudeness, but what leads you away from the temple?"

Sarcem waved his hand to show he didn't mind the question. "The rainy season approaches, and my auguries tell me it will be a harsh one. I go to Griffondale to receive additional wands for the Lowering of the Waters ceremony. While everyone else focuses on a week-long Flood Festival to celebrate a change in the colour of the flags flapping over the keep, it falls to the faithful like us to ensure that the revelers don't drown in their own filth."

Tateland nodded as if he understood, chewing on the pheasant leg all the while.

***

Perhaps it was an unfortunate happenstance that, before Ysa could bring a round of drinks to the men and women with the compliments of Monterey Jack, the highly inebriated man on the stage finished his song with a warbling scream, twirled in place, and stumbled down the steps face first to the floor, because that seemed to signal an end to the night's festivities for that group. They grabbed their unconscious compatriot's legs and dragged him across the hardwood floor, leaving the room.

Bolgrim and the gypsies also retired to their rooms for the night, but not before one of them--Simon--paid a brief visit to the private banquet hall.

 

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The Old Man Down the Road

"What should I do with these, love?" Ysa held the round of drinks Jack had ordered.

Oberyn stood. "Follow me." He led Ysa, Jack, and Tateland to the table where the old man and the half-elf sat. "Pardon me," he said, "I couldn't help notice that we are the sole remaining patrons, and I haven't introduced myself. I am Oberyn Tercival of Redgorge."

"I am Shensen Tesseril," said the slender silver-haired woman. "I maintain the shrine to Fharlanghn here."

"Fharlanghn?"

"God of travel and the horizon," said Tateland.

Shensen nodded, then motioned to her companion. "This is--"

"I can introduce myself, dear lady," he interrupted. "My name is Azathan Veermont. I am not only a scholar, I am a sage as well, in addition to being a learned man. That being the case, my forte is knowledge." He cocked his head as if reading Oberyn. "You have questions, do you not?"

"I do."

"I will answer them, but at the price of a tankard each."

Oberyn nodded to Ysa, finally giving her permission to set the heavy tray of drinks on the table.

Azathan's eyebrows arched, and he straightened his crooked back as best he could. "Ah, you must have lots of questions!"

"Tell me about the Scarlet Brotherhood."

Azathan drew one of the mugs of ale toward him with great relish, but spoke with a low voice. "This is a conversation best carried on in a private room. Let us retire to this booth."
When the company had reassembled inside a private booth and drawn the curtain, Azathan began. "Now then, the Benevolent Brotherhood of the Scarlet Banner. You know, of course, of the 27 nobles who perished, victims of the Sea Princes' overconfidence. The surviving nobles, their next of kin, and conspirators on the Brotherhood's side were quick to agree to the demands the following morning. Overnight the Hold of the Sea Princes became a protectorate of the Scarlet Brothers from across the sea.

"Soon they had landed their great red-sailed ships in our ports and off-loaded knights clad in gold, savages from the jungles of the south, and warbeasts of grisly visage. One Scarlet Brother was sent to each principality to oversee things. It is like the landing of the dice. If the Brother is wise and just, the region prospers; if he is tyrannical, the region suffers. So it was with the Princes, now it is with the Brotherhood.

"After Margraf Tinardo's demise, Throff was placed under the leadership of his advisor, Yem. Indeed it is said that Yem began making changes in the Margraviate as soon as the Margraf left for the Council at which he died, as if he knew the bloody outcome beforehand. In any case, he reports to one called the Red General.

"No word has come from the Duchy of Berghof beyond the mountains as to who may be their assigned Brother. They are fiercely independent, so blood may be shed before the Scarlet Banner flies over the Duchy.

"Cauldron Keep is neither in Berghof nor Throff, rather it is ostensibly a holding of the crown prince and therefore deserves its own Scarlet Brother: Shebeleth Regidin. It was upon his word that the mayor and castellan of the keep were forced to abolish the slave trade and eliminate taxes, so aside from some high nobles, plantation and mine owners, and slavetraders, the majority of the populace are content with the change. They went so far as to extend the upcoming Flood Festival to an entire week in honour of Brother Regidin's arrival."

"So, is no one opposing them?" asked Oberyn.

"There is some scattered opposition, such as the revolt of the peasants of Veemme, which I am sure won't last long. Also I have heard that some disenfranchised nobles have formed a secret alliance against them. They call themselves the Order of the Brazen Blade."

"Are you two members of the Brazen Blade?"

Azathan and Shensen looked at each other. "No," said the old man finally. "We have our own concerns."

Oberyn considered these words. "Who is their leader of the Brotherhood?"

Azathan drained his mug and reached for another. "Their leader, at least on these shores, seems to be Elder Brother Hammandaturian in Monmurg. The others refer to him as the Shepherd of the Sea Princes. I know nothing else about him."

Three newly emptied mugs occupied the table, and another remained full.

"Drink your fourth now, and I will return to ask you a question in the future," said Oberyn.

"Very well," said Azathan. "Visit me here at the Lucky Monkey if ever you are in need of elucidation."

 

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Heavy Cloud No Rain

[smallcaps]Sunday, Harvester 2.[/smallcaps]

Oberyn awoke at dawn in Ysa's bed. She stirred.

"Must you leave?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"Will you return?"

He nodded again.

"I want you to know that you will always have a bed at the Lucky Monkey."

He said nothing, rose, dressed, and descended to the common room. Jack and Tateland were sitting at the bar, chewing some leftover boar and making ready to leave. Oberyn purchased the remainder of the boar from Orin, and the group left the inn.

Although the eastern sky was lightening, the whole sky was overcast with dark clouds, heavy with rain, yet nothing was falling at the moment. Bolgrim and the wagon-drivers had fed the draft horses and were making the final preparations for the day's trip into Adlerweg Pass.

The terrain through which the trail wound became more rocky with each passing mile. The forests around the Lucky Monkey gave way to steep slopes on either side, and the trail was much rougher than it had been on the previous day's journey.

Every so often, the caravan would pass a plantation or a mine entrance. Sometimes workers could be seen, sometimes the place was idle. A group of dark-skinned Olmans passed by, heading in the opposite direction. They wore tattered clothing and had few possessions. Oberyn offered a pair of silver coins to them as they passed by, and Jack translated to Oberyn the thanks offered by the eldest man.

***

Instead of stopping for a mid-day meal, Bolgrim ordered that food must be eaten while moving. The wagons were a little slower in the pass, and stops had to be kept to a minimum if the caravan was to reach Cauldron Keep by nightfall.

"Slow up!" called Tateland. He had caught sight of a body--perhaps a child or hobbit--lying half-concealed behind a boulder at the side of the road.

Bolgrim grumbled but agreed to pause the wagons briefly while Tateland investigated. Oberyn rode his horse over as well.

"It is the body of a kobold," called Tateland. He scanned the area for any sign of other kobolds. The young wagon-driver named Simon stood and looked around as well, but no one spotted anything else amiss.

Oberyn rolled the body with his boot to be sure it was dead.

Then Bolgrim ordered the caravan to continue, and the corpse was forgotten.

 

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The Peddler

Kort hated leaving the comfort of Cauldron Keep, but his trade as a travelling peddler forced him out onto the road when his liquor money ran out. He had decided to stop for the evening at the foot of the mountain and spend the night in the abandoned guard posts where the winding path up to the keep met the main pass through the mountains.

When he heard the sound of approaching wagons, he pulled on his curl-toed shoes, placed his wide-brimmed, floppy hat on his head, and straightened his particoloured slash-sleeved jacket.

***

Bolgrim pretended not to notice the garishly dressed peddler, even as Kort called out to the group, "Ho! Fine wares for your perusal! Won't you stop and strike up a bargain?"

The wagons rolled past, but Oberyn paused before the merchant, and Kort offered various object for sale. "My name is Kort, and I specialise in rare unguents, oils, herbs, and other luxury items for the bath." Getting no reaction, he quickly offered Oberyn a knife, a hat, or a cook pot, none of which seemed to interest him in the least.

"Which way are you travelling?"

Kort paused, sizing up his customer. When he decided Oberyn had no ill intentions, he said, "I am on my way east, first to Griffondale, and then perhaps on to Thonon or south to Veemme."

"How much for your finest perfume?"

Kort's eyes narrowed. He sensed a mark. "This vial contains the best fragrance from Niole Dra. Within you can sense the distilled essences of orange peel, daffodil, and the freshest kumquat. The entire dram is only five gold eagles."

Oberyn scoffed. "I'll give you one eagle, but you must promise to deliver it to Ysa at the Lucky Monkey, complements of Oberyn Tercival."

"Two eagles," bartered Kort, "and I shall deliver it myself, so as to ensure that the sweet smell is perfectly suited to her fair form."

Oberyn seemed to shift uncomfortably in his saddle, but he agreed to the deal anyway. "When I pass by the Lucky Monkey in two weeks' time, I had better smell the scent myself. I do not suffer swindlers lightly."

"You have nothing to fear, good sir," said Kort, taking the money with a smile.

Oberyn turned and caught up with the caravan. "Well, there's two coins ill-spent," he muttered to himself, doubting aloud whether the perfume will actually be delivered as promised.

 

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Sanctified Soup

Although darkness engulfed the trail as the caravan climbed the mountain, the massive walls of the keep atop the peak shone in the dying rays of the sun. The fifty-foot high walls were built of thick, black volcanic rock flecked with green malachite, such that they glittered like quartz in the light.

In order to provide a manageable slope, the trail was forced to wind completely around the mountain, though in a couple of instances, steeper and more direct trails branched off, but Bolgrim was forced to avoid these. At intervals, other smaller tracks switched back from the main trail and led to small plantations, estates, or mines located around the mountain.

When asked about the keep, Bolgrim lectured the questioners with an annoyed tone. "Cauldron Keep sits on the caldera of an extinct volcano, guarding this pass between Throff and Berghof." His chest suddenly puffed up. "My people built it ages ago, before any human had ever set foot here. But alas, it is said that a magical plague struck the inhabitants, and it fell into ruin. Successive generations of humans rebuilt it as Adlerweg Keep, but today it is the Cauldron Keep we all know."

Soon the caravan had entered the city through the east gate, which the heroes later learned was called Merchant's Gate. The city lay below them in ever-narrowing concentric circles, until finally it reached the shores of the lake which lie in the center of the dormant volcanoe's cone. A guard named Skylar Krewis greeted them; no taxes were levied, but he warned those carrying weapons that the castellan looked harshly on those who loose their sword for no reason.

After seeing the caravan safely to an enclosure along Obsidian Avenue, Jack and Tateland received a handful of coins from Bolgrim for their service. They rejoined Oberyn and wandered the darkening city for a while, looking for an inn.

Oberyn stopped a messenger boy. "Where might we find a room for the night?"

The page judged Oberyn's dress and suggested a few places, and Oberyn settled on the Laughing Horse, to which the boy pointed them.

Upon finding the Laughing Horse, the travellers met the proprietor Drand Thetric. Oberyn bartered with the obsequious innkeeper for three rooms for a week, evening meals included, and Tateland paid. Some discussion followed about whether the beds would have sheets, and Drand promised to find some.

"We will take our evening meal now," said Oberyn. "Is the cook in at this hour?"

"I'm afraid we are between cooks at the moment," admitted Drand.

"No cook?"

"But I am planning to hire one straightaway. In the meantime, I can get you some soup, if that's your pleasure." He added under his breath, "There's a rain barrel out back."

"Fine, we will take the soup," said Oberyn, "but I expect you to hire proper help tomorrow." He sat down at a table with Jack and Tateland.

In moments, Drand returned with three bowls of tepid water in which floated sad remnants of what once must have been vegetables but now appeared to be grey soggy globules.

"I will say the blessing," said Tateland, and he spoke words entreating the gods to purify the meal. At once the broth's aroma improved, and though its taste was still lacking, it seemed edible enough.

[sblock=GM commentary]Note that because Cauldron Keep guards Adlerweg Pass IMC, all of the roads leading from the gate spiral down the mountain, with little dead-end trails curling off of the main road where plantations and mines are located. Although not obvious, this is the first of several coming references to a spiral motif to be explained later.[/sblock]

 

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We Don't Need Another Hero

While they ate, the three travellers couldn't help but overhear three youths at the next table engaged in a debate.

"No, I still say the greatest heroes in Cauldron Keep are the Stormblades," said young Bil. "They's real noble-like and always doing good for the people."

"Yeah, like what?" shot back the even younger Beau, "maintaining high standards of snootiness?"

"Naw, they're the ones just mopped up that tribe of kobolds what's been scaring people in the eastern pass," answered Bil. "Word is they came back with a couple of heads to prove it, along with the kobold king's magic sword!"

Tateland glanced at Jack. "Hmm, kobolds…"

"I still say Alek Tercival is the greatest hero," said Beau.

Oberyn stopped in mid-slurp and began listening to the conversation a little closer.

Beau continued. "Alek's the one wearing the shining armour and protecting the innocent and all that. He may be just a backwoods, landless knight, but he's got real heart, that one. Always coming back from quests with treasure and giving to the orphanage and all."

Oberyn leaned over. "Pardon me, but did you just say Alek Tercival?"

"Yeah."

"My companion here," Oberyn gestured to Tateland, "is a man-at-arms of the mighty Alek Tercival."

The three youths took notice of Tateland's holy symbol, and Beau's eyes widened.

"You're all cracked," interrupted the third youth, who was a dwarf not yet in full beard. "Zenith Splintershield could send those high-born pups back to the wet nurse! Don't you know he singlehandedly reclaimed the Malachite Stronghold from the evil that had taken root there? He's the right proper king of the mountain if you ask me. 'Course he ain't been 'round these parts for a while, seeing as he forayed from the Malachite 'Hold to find the lost realm of Torgorim 'neath the Hellfurnaces."

This was a bit much for the listeners to take in all at once, and in any case, the friendly bickering started anew with Bil's claim that the Stormblades have strength in numbers.
"Who are these Stormblades?" said Oberyn, trying to conceal the hint of scorn for such a ridiculous name.

"Cor, where you from that you ain't heard of 'em?" said Bil incredulously. "Beau and Bagrince here will have none of it, but them Stormblades is the best heroes in Cauldron Keep. Annah Taskerhill, she's their leader. The other lady Cora Lathenmire is a treat for the eyes, but watch your tongue around her or she'll remove it for you! Then there's Todd; I don't know as much about him. Zachary is the fourth one, and he's right heroic, he is."

"I see," said Oberyn. "We are new to the keep and make so few acquaintances. What else
has been going on lately? Surely there is some news you can pass along."

Bil thought for a moment. "You know about the disappearance, right?"

Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland shook their heads no.

"Well, I guess it all started a few weeks ago, after they hoisted them red flags above the walls. Some folks just vanished in the night, most recently a few sorry little ones from the orphanage."

The boys made to leave. Oberyn thanked them for their time and asked them to return in two evenings to the Laughing Horse with more information. Then Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland retired to their rooms for the night.

 

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The Houses of the Holy

[smallcaps]Moonday, Harvester 3.[/smallcaps]

The heroes were met the next morning with more dark clouds looming above. Despite the threat of rain, Jack, Oberyn, and Tateland wandered up Obsidian Avenue, taking in the sights and sounds of the small walled city.

They stopped in front of the two-storey Temple of the Order of St. Cuthbert, its white marble walls suffused with veins of vivid blue, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding buildings of black stone and bare wood. A pair of white marble statues depicting armoured warriors stood on either side of the temple's heavy oaken doors, above which were inscribed the bold words, WITHIN LAW LIVES HOPE. Each of the statues was poised with a great mace held up to the darkening sky, and as if on cue, a steady drizzle began to fall, marking the beginning of the rainy season. Tateland led everyone through the doors into the temple.
A priest named Ruphus Laro met them inside. "Y-y-yes?"

"I am Brother Tateland of Griffondale. These are my companions Oberyn and Jack."

Ruphus stuck his head outside and looked both ways, then closed the oaken doors. "Very w-well. I shall tell Sister J-Jenya of your arrival." Ruphus hurried off.

Within moments, two figures approach the trio: a young woman wearing a brown robe with golden trim and the symbol of St. Cuthbert around her neck, and a man in his late thirties dressed in full armour and knight's tabard bearing the symbol of St. Cuthbert.

"Good morning," said the woman. "I am Jenya Urikas, keeper of the temple while High Priest Delasharn is away." She nodded slightly. Her rich brown hair, piled high in an elaborate headress, was streaked with premature gray.

Next spoke the knight. "Sir Alek Tercival of Redgorge." Oberyn's mood changed visibly at Alek's approach; his smirk broadened into a scowl.

After a round of introductions from the heroes, Alek asked Tateland to step into a side room for a moment…

***

"Brother Tateland, you have travelled with Oberyn for some time now. What is your opinion of him?"

"He is moody and militant," said Tateland, "As if some past grievance still weighs on him."

Alek nodded. "He has always been prone to fits. You see, there is something of his father in him. Our family history is too convoluted to explain at the moment, but I would ask of you a favor."

"What is it?"

"Go with him, and keep him out of trouble. He is too proud to have me watching his back at all times, yet I would have it be done."

"Very well," agreed Tateland.

"Brother Tateland," said Alek earnestly, "if he acts… disturbed… in any way, I would like to know about it."

Tateland nodded, then he switched to a topic that had been on his mind lately. "What is the Order's position on the Scarlet Brotherhood? Are they evil?"

"High Priest Delasharn determines the Order's official position. The townsfolk seem pleased with revoked taxes, and though like you I have my doubts about the Brotherhood's sincerity, I must admit the abolishment of slavery should have been done long ago. The slavers now have been run out of the city, and many lives have been spared from the yoke.

"I do believe there is still evil at work in Cauldron Keep, but I cannot say it is the Scarlet Brotherhood's doing. I leave today in pursuit of a clue to that evil. I hope to know more about it the next time we meet."

***

By the time Tateland returned to the others, Oberyn had convinced Ruphus to show him to an outfitters to buy new clothes and then on to Orek's Bathhouse to clean up. Along the way, Ruphus pointed out numerous landmarks and establishments of interest.

After their baths, the three men changed into their new clothes and sent Ruphus back to the Laughing Horse inn with instructions to Drand Thetric to have them laundered.

Meanwhile, the heroes spent the remainder of the day meandering through the streets, down to the lake, and along Ash Avenue. They passed among the red lantern district, commenting upon the ladies, until a murmur ran through the inhabitants that a patrol of guards was passing through.

The leader of the patrol, Skylar Krewis, recognized the heroes and stopped to question them. "Have you seen a young woman with bright red hair and a tattoo running down her face?"

"Is she wanted for a crime?" replied Tateland.

"Murder. Her named is Triel Eldurast, and she's mighty dangerous."

"We saw her a night or two ago at the Lucky Monkey," said Jack.

"Eh?" said Skylar. "Well, she's out of our hair then." The soldiers with him seemed pleased.

"Is there a bounty on her head?" asked Oberyn.

"Terseon would like to see her pay for her crime, and I'm sure he'd reward anyone who brought her to him, but I can't say there is a bounty as such."

"Whom did she kill?"

"Some of us guards. You see, she was in the garrison herself, but I guess she just snapped and slew the rest of her patrol."

"She was with another woman and three men," said Jack, providing a brief description of each of Triel's cohorts.

"Well, we'll send a rider to the Lucky Monkey," said Skylar, "but it sounds like she's Yem's problem now." The patrol turned and left, heading in the direction of the main garrison.

In the late afternoon, the three heroes came to the Tipped Tankard tavern, and they decided to stop in for a meal. While there, they overheard someone say she was knocked over by a cloaked woman with a ashen face who spat vile curses at her. The townsperson says she believes the disappearances are the work of an evil cult who worships a great two-headed beast with tentacles for arms.

Tateland leaned over to the other two and said quietly, "Demogorgon." Oberyn just stared at him like he was a circus freak. "The recent disappearances spoken of by the youths at the Laughing Horse may be the work of a cult," explained the priest.