Against the Shadows IV - A Faded Glory Story Hour
- Status
JacktheRabbit
Explorer
Re: Re: Re: More Bureuacracy...
All hypothetical, oh ok. My bad. Apologies extended.
All hypothetical, oh ok. My bad. Apologies extended.
Old One said:
Doc -
Thanks for stoppin' in! We are just having "speculative conversations" here - I am not saying that I actually make my PCs suffer through this - we don't have that much playing time!
I do like throwing lots of curves at the PCs, but I also solicit regular feedback from them to make sure they are always having fun! Thanks for your continued readership and the comments!
Old One
Lela
First Post
Re: Wow...Off the Front Page!
If there's one thing I learned while doing the Fight Club stuff, it's that you NEVER do a long post w/o a Word Processor.
NEVER.
You see, as per Merphy's law, the only time the boards go wacky is when you need to make a long post and don't use Word.
Mabey it's Microsoft, trying to make sure you use their product. Mabey it's the Table playing a trick on the DM.
My belief, Morris just loves hearing people scream in agony from accross the country:
Old One: "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! NOOOOOO!!!"
Morris: "Was that one ours?"
Eric: "Let me check the server." Types for a second, "Yes."
PKitty: "Yes!!! That makes three today!"
Morris: "Time for the Happy Dance!"
Sceen Deleted by those of us who are sane.
Old One said:
If there's one thing I learned while doing the Fight Club stuff, it's that you NEVER do a long post w/o a Word Processor.
NEVER.
You see, as per Merphy's law, the only time the boards go wacky is when you need to make a long post and don't use Word.
Mabey it's Microsoft, trying to make sure you use their product. Mabey it's the Table playing a trick on the DM.
My belief, Morris just loves hearing people scream in agony from accross the country:
Old One: "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! NOOOOOO!!!"
Morris: "Was that one ours?"
Eric: "Let me check the server." Types for a second, "Yes."
PKitty: "Yes!!! That makes three today!"
Morris: "Time for the Happy Dance!"
Sceen Deleted by those of us who are sane.
Last edited:
Darklone
Registered User
Dice (and page 10 is MINE)
Sorry to withdraw my proposal concerning Dougals dice...
We got another ToEE here now. Played in a new location last week... with a nice old table.
Well... Dougals "natural 20 die" rolled several natural 1s in a row... didn't count myself but more than 4 in 6 rolls. He's right now busy trying all of Quickbeams dice exorcisms.
At least he's convinced now never again to roll on the table (which he did the first time).
Sorry to withdraw my proposal concerning Dougals dice...
We got another ToEE here now. Played in a new location last week... with a nice old table.
Well... Dougals "natural 20 die" rolled several natural 1s in a row... didn't count myself but more than 4 in 6 rolls. He's right now busy trying all of Quickbeams dice exorcisms.
At least he's convinced now never again to roll on the table (which he did the first time).
Last edited:
Session 12 (Part III)
Martyr or Madman
The rest of the party was just stirring themselves, trying to decide between breakfast or a bath, when a red-faced Viato burst into the guesthouse. “C-c-come quick,” the overwrought lad stammered, “Brother Lew is in trouble!”
Without waiting for a reply, the lad turned and bounded out the door, headed toward the Cathedral. Exchanging concerned but confused glances, the party snatched up the gear that was close at hand and followed, barely keeping the fleet-footed aspirant in view. They followed him through the western bell tower and into the Foyer, arriving just in time to see Lew being swallowed by a tide of gnarled men and women crying at the top of their lungs for the “miracle worker” to save them! Above the strange tableaux floated a soft blue-while ball of light.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rowan and Rosë dove into the pile and began bodily hauling cripples and amputees off of their friend. Just then, Sergeant-Brother Fortian appeared in the doorway from the eastern bell tower and thundered, “What in the name of all the Archangels is going on here? This is the House of Osrisian, not a dockside tavern!”
The burly church knight evaluated the scene for a moment, then drew his spatha and waded in, using the pommel and flat of the blade to momentarily stun Lew’s assailants. They were making headway, but Quintus could see that Lew had stopped struggling and gone completely limp. Thinking quickly, he called upon his Ghost Sound cantrip to shout, with the strength of a dozen men “Stop in the name of Osirian!”
The immense bellow, coupled with the efforts of the rest of the party, soon quelled the minor riot. Several of the wretches that had come seeking cures were bloody and battered and one was unconscious. Fortian quickly asserted his authority and, not unkindly, ushered the now subdued band of supplicants from the Foyer and out into the piazza. Returning, he sternly inquired, “Who wants to tell me what happened here?”
Rowan looked up from tending Lew, who he found be alive but unconscious and badly battered, and shrugged. The rest of the party exchanged uneasy glances, and then Viato spoke up in a voice akin to a terrified squeak, “T-t-that band of people came looking from Brother Lew at first light. T-t-they claimed he was some sort of miracle worker and that he could heal twisted limbs and broken bodies. I-I-I got Brother Lew, then they didn’t like what he was saying, so they jumped all over him.”
The lad lapsed into silence, a stricken look on his face. Rowan and Rosë exchanged glances, and then collapsed to the floor, howling in laughter. Sextus joined in, but managed to keep his feet. Only Quintus succeeded in maintaining control. Fortian, jaw set in a tight line, stepped forward and began to speak, but he was cut short by the arrival of Abbot Patroclian.
“What is going on here?” The Abbot intoned evenly.
Sergeant-Brother Fortian snapped to attention and rendered a terse report. Nodding, the Abbot stifled the merriment of Rosë and Rowan with a withering glance and instructed the party to bring Lew and follow him to his chambers. He paused to glance at the droplets of blood and scraps of cloth – torn from Lew’s robes – that dotted the Foyer. Without turning his head, he commanded, “Viato, see that this mess is cleaned up with 15 turns of the minute glass.”
Carrying Lew’s limp body, they followed the Abbot to the First Rectory and ascended to the 2nd floor. Abbot Patroclian ushered them into a small, well-appointed sitting room and gestured towards a silk divan along one wall, “Place him there.”
“Tell me what you know of this event,” the Abbot asked, but his demeanor indicated that it was a demand, not a request.
The party related the story of the farmer (Kordas) and how Lew fixed the man’s back. He questioned them closely and seemed very interested as to whether or not Lew had held himself out to be a “miracle worker”. Seemingly satisfied that Lew had not done wrong, Abbot Patroclian sighed, “It seems, then, that this was a simple misunderstanding…an unfortunate occurrence. Still, I think it would be best if you did not use the main entrances of the Cathedral for several days – I do not want to see a repeat of today’s sorry affair. There is a concealed postern gate that exits the Cathedral grounds near the Custom’s House in the Dock Quarter. I will instruct Viato to show you how to use it. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to speak with Brother Lew alone.”
As they stood to leave, Quintus inquired about any workers of magic that might be able to discern the nature of some of their items. “I do not deal much with arcane devices, but I understand that Lonic, who owns a Curio’s shop on the northeast corner of the piazza, has some expertise in that area. Others who know more of such things speak highly of him, although he keeps strange hours.”
Quintus thanked him and the Abbot dismissed them with a wave of his hand. As they filed from the room, they saw him lay his hands of the unconscious form of their friend and begin to chant. The blue-white glow of Osirian’s power suffused the chamber as they pulled the door shut. They shared several quiet chuckles as they returned to their guesthouse, but their chuckles turned to epithets as they arrived to find Drusilla gone! She had used the commotion of the morning’s events to quietly slip away.
An irritated Quintus read the note she had left on his bed.
Quintus –
I am eternally grateful to you and your companions for seeing me safely to Oar, but I fear that my presence among you places all of you in grave danger. I feel it is best for me to seek my friends alone. I will be in touch with you as soon as it is safe.
My thanks,
~ D
As Quintus shared the contents of the note, a chastened Lew, replete with battered body and bruised pride, arrived. He reacted to the good-natured ribbing of his companions with little enthusiasm and quickly made it clear that he was in no mood to discuss the morning’s events. Even so, muted barbs kept flying his way!
Shortly after the noon meal, they sought out Viato. He had already received instructions from the Abbot and took them to the postern gate, situated behind a small grove of trees along the western wall of the compound. He showed them how to operate the gate from each direction, and then excused himself to continue his duties. Lew’s temper remained short as they departed the compound for the Dock Quarter and he soon lapsed into sullen silence.
They passed through the postern gate and found themselves in a narrow, refuse-choked alley behind a squat, four-story stone building. Trying to avoid the worst of the garbage, they picked their way through the alley, turned down another alley and made their way to the waterfront. For the second time in as many days, they stopped and stared in amazement.
The harbor was teaming with ships and activity. The vessels ranged in size from 2-man skiffs to harbor barges to fishing dhows to trade galleys. Six stone quays jutted out into the harbor like giant fingers and rickety looking wooden docks sprouted from each quay. In addition to the Custom’s House, whose shadow they stood in, a dozen large warehouses and several dozen smaller buildings crowded around the waterfront.
Small gangs of porters and stevedores, bare-chested and glistening with sweat, labored to move cargo between the ships and the warehouses under the curse-laden shouts of bosun’s mates. Large block-and-tackle contraptions swung nets filled with timber, stone and ore into the holds of some ships and pulled tuns of wine, crated furniture and even an ornate carriage from the holds of others. Half-a-dozen sea shanties, some accompanied by pipes or drums, echoed across the harbor, vying for the attention of the party’s ears.
“Those are some big canoes,” Rosë said in awe.
Their interest in the scene was soon overcome by the briny stench of the harbor. Dead fish and other unidentifiable flotsam lapped up against the quayside and the stagnant midday air, heavy and humid, held the variety of mostly unpleasant smells in place. They made their way along waterfront, using the soaring towers of the Cathedral to guide them back to the Merchant’s Quarter. Just before they reached the main avenue or Via, they passed a ramshackle three-story inn on the right whose sign proclaimed The Boarding Pike.
Despite the early hour, nearly a score of rough-looking men lounged on the uneven porch, sitting on stools and overturned crates. They regarded the party with dull, unfriendly eyes – well into their cups despite the early hour. One enormous brute, with hairy arms and an ample belly, caught and held Rosë’s gaze with bloodshot eyes. He grinned a mostly toothless grin and caressed the well-worn hilt of a fighting dirk, nodding an unspoken challenge at the large barbarian. Proud, but not foolish, Rosë let it pass and continued on his way, although he could feel the eyes boring into his back as he turned the corner.
The quality of the air improved as they moved from the Dock Quarter to the Merchant’s Quarter. The guards at the gate between the two quarters showed as little interest in the party as they did in maintaining their equipment, which was spotted with rust. Quintus shook his head in disgust, trying to imagine what it must have been like when legionnaires and not ill-trained merchant mercenaries stood guard. They soon found themselves back in the main plaza before the Cathedral, which was teeming with activity.
Parti-colored awnings jutted out from most shops, shading patrons from the midday sun. All manner of shops – leatherworks, coopers, cobblers, haberdashers and others – were buzzing with activity. A sweetmeat vendor hobbled by, pushing a swaying cart laden with a broad variety of edibles. As they entered the plaza, a small band of young boys with green scarves tied about their heads bandana style raced by. Behind them, a larger group, marked by red scarves pursued, whooping and hollering. ‘It is not even Marktday,’ Sextus thought to himself, ‘I wonder how busy it is then!’
They split into several groups. Rosë sought out a metal worker who could fashion a bronze “rainhat” for him. Sextus and Lew went off in search of new clothes and Rowan and Quintus made for Lonic’s Curio shop.
Rosë followed his ears to an open-air forge where a burly Khazardyn pounded on a partially finished sword. Several human lads were busy polishing finished items and hanging them for display. When queried, the stocky smith introduced himself as Kontmor. He and Rosë haggled back and forth over the commission. They could reach no agreement, but Rosë promised to return latter to discuss it further.
(DM’s Note: This was actually a pretty funny part of the session. Rosë wanted a “bronze rainhat” – essentially a bronze gladiator-type helmet that would keep his head dry, not necessarily ward him from enemy blows. Kontmor, the Khazardyn (half-dwarf) smith, thought he was somewhat “touched”. They went back and forth for a while before agreeing to take up the discussion at a later time.)
Sextus and Lew quickly found decent clothing to replace their threadbare and travel stained garb and Sextus commissioned a dashing outfit.
Meanwhile, Rowan and Quintus located Lonic’s Curio shop – a deep, narrow affair that was certainly full of curios! Shelves and racks were place haphazardly around the shop, each one filled with row upon row of jars filled with various liquids, crystals and powders. Stuffed animals and parts of stuffed animals adorned the walls and Rowan got the distinct feeling that some of the animals were watching them as they moved through the shop. Various odds and ends – lamps, paintings, chairs, statuettes and other trinkets – added to the clutter.
Lonic turned out to be a tall, impossibly thin man of indeterminate age. He wore dark charcoal robes that hung loosely from his cadaverous frame and spoke in a sonorous monotone. He agreed to examine the party’s treasure and determine what he could of its nature. He quoted them the staggering sum of 2,000 denarii for service and indicated it would take several days. Noting the look of horror on Quintus’ face, he explained that the spell was costly and that he had to assume certain dangers inherent with the application of the ritual.
Quintus sputtered his thanks and drug Rowan back outside. “Let’s gather the others – we have some decisions to make!”
To Be Continued…
Next: Interlude – The Party Finally Gets Paid!
Old One
Martyr or Madman
The rest of the party was just stirring themselves, trying to decide between breakfast or a bath, when a red-faced Viato burst into the guesthouse. “C-c-come quick,” the overwrought lad stammered, “Brother Lew is in trouble!”
Without waiting for a reply, the lad turned and bounded out the door, headed toward the Cathedral. Exchanging concerned but confused glances, the party snatched up the gear that was close at hand and followed, barely keeping the fleet-footed aspirant in view. They followed him through the western bell tower and into the Foyer, arriving just in time to see Lew being swallowed by a tide of gnarled men and women crying at the top of their lungs for the “miracle worker” to save them! Above the strange tableaux floated a soft blue-while ball of light.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rowan and Rosë dove into the pile and began bodily hauling cripples and amputees off of their friend. Just then, Sergeant-Brother Fortian appeared in the doorway from the eastern bell tower and thundered, “What in the name of all the Archangels is going on here? This is the House of Osrisian, not a dockside tavern!”
The burly church knight evaluated the scene for a moment, then drew his spatha and waded in, using the pommel and flat of the blade to momentarily stun Lew’s assailants. They were making headway, but Quintus could see that Lew had stopped struggling and gone completely limp. Thinking quickly, he called upon his Ghost Sound cantrip to shout, with the strength of a dozen men “Stop in the name of Osirian!”
The immense bellow, coupled with the efforts of the rest of the party, soon quelled the minor riot. Several of the wretches that had come seeking cures were bloody and battered and one was unconscious. Fortian quickly asserted his authority and, not unkindly, ushered the now subdued band of supplicants from the Foyer and out into the piazza. Returning, he sternly inquired, “Who wants to tell me what happened here?”
Rowan looked up from tending Lew, who he found be alive but unconscious and badly battered, and shrugged. The rest of the party exchanged uneasy glances, and then Viato spoke up in a voice akin to a terrified squeak, “T-t-that band of people came looking from Brother Lew at first light. T-t-they claimed he was some sort of miracle worker and that he could heal twisted limbs and broken bodies. I-I-I got Brother Lew, then they didn’t like what he was saying, so they jumped all over him.”
The lad lapsed into silence, a stricken look on his face. Rowan and Rosë exchanged glances, and then collapsed to the floor, howling in laughter. Sextus joined in, but managed to keep his feet. Only Quintus succeeded in maintaining control. Fortian, jaw set in a tight line, stepped forward and began to speak, but he was cut short by the arrival of Abbot Patroclian.
“What is going on here?” The Abbot intoned evenly.
Sergeant-Brother Fortian snapped to attention and rendered a terse report. Nodding, the Abbot stifled the merriment of Rosë and Rowan with a withering glance and instructed the party to bring Lew and follow him to his chambers. He paused to glance at the droplets of blood and scraps of cloth – torn from Lew’s robes – that dotted the Foyer. Without turning his head, he commanded, “Viato, see that this mess is cleaned up with 15 turns of the minute glass.”
Carrying Lew’s limp body, they followed the Abbot to the First Rectory and ascended to the 2nd floor. Abbot Patroclian ushered them into a small, well-appointed sitting room and gestured towards a silk divan along one wall, “Place him there.”
“Tell me what you know of this event,” the Abbot asked, but his demeanor indicated that it was a demand, not a request.
The party related the story of the farmer (Kordas) and how Lew fixed the man’s back. He questioned them closely and seemed very interested as to whether or not Lew had held himself out to be a “miracle worker”. Seemingly satisfied that Lew had not done wrong, Abbot Patroclian sighed, “It seems, then, that this was a simple misunderstanding…an unfortunate occurrence. Still, I think it would be best if you did not use the main entrances of the Cathedral for several days – I do not want to see a repeat of today’s sorry affair. There is a concealed postern gate that exits the Cathedral grounds near the Custom’s House in the Dock Quarter. I will instruct Viato to show you how to use it. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to speak with Brother Lew alone.”
As they stood to leave, Quintus inquired about any workers of magic that might be able to discern the nature of some of their items. “I do not deal much with arcane devices, but I understand that Lonic, who owns a Curio’s shop on the northeast corner of the piazza, has some expertise in that area. Others who know more of such things speak highly of him, although he keeps strange hours.”
Quintus thanked him and the Abbot dismissed them with a wave of his hand. As they filed from the room, they saw him lay his hands of the unconscious form of their friend and begin to chant. The blue-white glow of Osirian’s power suffused the chamber as they pulled the door shut. They shared several quiet chuckles as they returned to their guesthouse, but their chuckles turned to epithets as they arrived to find Drusilla gone! She had used the commotion of the morning’s events to quietly slip away.
An irritated Quintus read the note she had left on his bed.
Quintus –
I am eternally grateful to you and your companions for seeing me safely to Oar, but I fear that my presence among you places all of you in grave danger. I feel it is best for me to seek my friends alone. I will be in touch with you as soon as it is safe.
My thanks,
~ D
As Quintus shared the contents of the note, a chastened Lew, replete with battered body and bruised pride, arrived. He reacted to the good-natured ribbing of his companions with little enthusiasm and quickly made it clear that he was in no mood to discuss the morning’s events. Even so, muted barbs kept flying his way!
Shortly after the noon meal, they sought out Viato. He had already received instructions from the Abbot and took them to the postern gate, situated behind a small grove of trees along the western wall of the compound. He showed them how to operate the gate from each direction, and then excused himself to continue his duties. Lew’s temper remained short as they departed the compound for the Dock Quarter and he soon lapsed into sullen silence.
They passed through the postern gate and found themselves in a narrow, refuse-choked alley behind a squat, four-story stone building. Trying to avoid the worst of the garbage, they picked their way through the alley, turned down another alley and made their way to the waterfront. For the second time in as many days, they stopped and stared in amazement.
The harbor was teaming with ships and activity. The vessels ranged in size from 2-man skiffs to harbor barges to fishing dhows to trade galleys. Six stone quays jutted out into the harbor like giant fingers and rickety looking wooden docks sprouted from each quay. In addition to the Custom’s House, whose shadow they stood in, a dozen large warehouses and several dozen smaller buildings crowded around the waterfront.
Small gangs of porters and stevedores, bare-chested and glistening with sweat, labored to move cargo between the ships and the warehouses under the curse-laden shouts of bosun’s mates. Large block-and-tackle contraptions swung nets filled with timber, stone and ore into the holds of some ships and pulled tuns of wine, crated furniture and even an ornate carriage from the holds of others. Half-a-dozen sea shanties, some accompanied by pipes or drums, echoed across the harbor, vying for the attention of the party’s ears.
“Those are some big canoes,” Rosë said in awe.
Their interest in the scene was soon overcome by the briny stench of the harbor. Dead fish and other unidentifiable flotsam lapped up against the quayside and the stagnant midday air, heavy and humid, held the variety of mostly unpleasant smells in place. They made their way along waterfront, using the soaring towers of the Cathedral to guide them back to the Merchant’s Quarter. Just before they reached the main avenue or Via, they passed a ramshackle three-story inn on the right whose sign proclaimed The Boarding Pike.
Despite the early hour, nearly a score of rough-looking men lounged on the uneven porch, sitting on stools and overturned crates. They regarded the party with dull, unfriendly eyes – well into their cups despite the early hour. One enormous brute, with hairy arms and an ample belly, caught and held Rosë’s gaze with bloodshot eyes. He grinned a mostly toothless grin and caressed the well-worn hilt of a fighting dirk, nodding an unspoken challenge at the large barbarian. Proud, but not foolish, Rosë let it pass and continued on his way, although he could feel the eyes boring into his back as he turned the corner.
The quality of the air improved as they moved from the Dock Quarter to the Merchant’s Quarter. The guards at the gate between the two quarters showed as little interest in the party as they did in maintaining their equipment, which was spotted with rust. Quintus shook his head in disgust, trying to imagine what it must have been like when legionnaires and not ill-trained merchant mercenaries stood guard. They soon found themselves back in the main plaza before the Cathedral, which was teeming with activity.
Parti-colored awnings jutted out from most shops, shading patrons from the midday sun. All manner of shops – leatherworks, coopers, cobblers, haberdashers and others – were buzzing with activity. A sweetmeat vendor hobbled by, pushing a swaying cart laden with a broad variety of edibles. As they entered the plaza, a small band of young boys with green scarves tied about their heads bandana style raced by. Behind them, a larger group, marked by red scarves pursued, whooping and hollering. ‘It is not even Marktday,’ Sextus thought to himself, ‘I wonder how busy it is then!’
They split into several groups. Rosë sought out a metal worker who could fashion a bronze “rainhat” for him. Sextus and Lew went off in search of new clothes and Rowan and Quintus made for Lonic’s Curio shop.
Rosë followed his ears to an open-air forge where a burly Khazardyn pounded on a partially finished sword. Several human lads were busy polishing finished items and hanging them for display. When queried, the stocky smith introduced himself as Kontmor. He and Rosë haggled back and forth over the commission. They could reach no agreement, but Rosë promised to return latter to discuss it further.
(DM’s Note: This was actually a pretty funny part of the session. Rosë wanted a “bronze rainhat” – essentially a bronze gladiator-type helmet that would keep his head dry, not necessarily ward him from enemy blows. Kontmor, the Khazardyn (half-dwarf) smith, thought he was somewhat “touched”. They went back and forth for a while before agreeing to take up the discussion at a later time.)
Sextus and Lew quickly found decent clothing to replace their threadbare and travel stained garb and Sextus commissioned a dashing outfit.
Meanwhile, Rowan and Quintus located Lonic’s Curio shop – a deep, narrow affair that was certainly full of curios! Shelves and racks were place haphazardly around the shop, each one filled with row upon row of jars filled with various liquids, crystals and powders. Stuffed animals and parts of stuffed animals adorned the walls and Rowan got the distinct feeling that some of the animals were watching them as they moved through the shop. Various odds and ends – lamps, paintings, chairs, statuettes and other trinkets – added to the clutter.
Lonic turned out to be a tall, impossibly thin man of indeterminate age. He wore dark charcoal robes that hung loosely from his cadaverous frame and spoke in a sonorous monotone. He agreed to examine the party’s treasure and determine what he could of its nature. He quoted them the staggering sum of 2,000 denarii for service and indicated it would take several days. Noting the look of horror on Quintus’ face, he explained that the spell was costly and that he had to assume certain dangers inherent with the application of the ritual.
Quintus sputtered his thanks and drug Rowan back outside. “Let’s gather the others – we have some decisions to make!”
To Be Continued…
Next: Interlude – The Party Finally Gets Paid!
Old One
Interlude
This is the text of the between game update I provided for the players. They managed to scrape together the 1,000 denarii downpayment Lonic demanded to identify their items, primarily by selling a number of gems they had accumlated during their travels. This meant that Quintus had to delay summoning his familiar yet again!
The Party Gets Paid - Finally!
The past several days have passed quickly and the morning of Marktday is upon you. Quintus gathered the necessary funds and delivered the magical items to Lonic along with the down payment. He bade you return on the morning of Marktday for his findings.
You are starting to learn your way around the city – what areas to travel in and what areas to avoid! You quickly come to the conclusion that the Dock Quarter is not safe to visit at night. Half-a-dozen seedy taverns and houses of ill-repute serve sailors watered down beer and worn-out wenches. Names like The Strident Trident and The One-Eyed Wench are commonplace. In addition, gangs of toughs, primarily “Greens” and “Reds” roam the quarter at night, brawling and accosting passerbys. Rosë narrowly avoids several altercations and you quickly learn to steer clear of the roving troublemakers.
You learn that the city has two harbors…the main harbor, where most of the trade vessels put in and the Bishop’s Harbor, so-called because it contains docks for the Bishop’s private vessel, along with docks for most of the merchant captains. Both harbors are guarded by metal and wood booms that are lowered to allow vessels to enter and raised to block the harbor in case of a sea-borne attack. The fortifications guarding the sea approach seem to be in pretty poor repair.
You take advantage of the large number of shops to replace worn equipment and buy new clothes to replace your mud and bloodstained garb. Viato suggests you wait until Marktday for any major purchases, since the large number of merchants usually leads to better deals!
Lew has kept to himself the last couple of days and has seemed fairly subdued on the occasions that he has been with you. He has spent most of the daytime in prayer in the Cathedral. Quintus spends most of his time in the library, searching for information on the Cult of Ashai. The work is tedious, for the Cathedral holds many manuscripts, scrolls and tomes on a variety of theological and secular areas of study. Quintus, along with Sextus’ spotty assistance, is able to determine the following:
The morning of Marktday, you rise early, bathe, eat and head to the Curio shop of Lonic. He bids you welcome and explains that he has learned something of the nature of the items that you brought, but demands the balance before continuing. You haggle a bit and he finally agrees to reveal what he has discovered, since you come under the good auspices of the Church of Light. He tells you the following:
Quintus unrolls the parchment and it reads:
Meet me at the “Lusty Whale” at the 8th evening bell. Ask the barkeep for “The lady in Blue” and he will direct you. Take care that you are not followed.
~ D
Old One
(DM's Note: The reaction of the players to the sudden infusion of wealth was one of amazement and borderline disbelief! They have been so poor for so long that I don't think they know what to do with their sudden good fortune. I am sure I will find a way to painfully part them from their money soon, however!
They decided to sell the satchel and frying pan to Lonic and keep the remainder, so they netted about 16,000 denarii!)
This is the text of the between game update I provided for the players. They managed to scrape together the 1,000 denarii downpayment Lonic demanded to identify their items, primarily by selling a number of gems they had accumlated during their travels. This meant that Quintus had to delay summoning his familiar yet again!
The Party Gets Paid - Finally!
The past several days have passed quickly and the morning of Marktday is upon you. Quintus gathered the necessary funds and delivered the magical items to Lonic along with the down payment. He bade you return on the morning of Marktday for his findings.
You are starting to learn your way around the city – what areas to travel in and what areas to avoid! You quickly come to the conclusion that the Dock Quarter is not safe to visit at night. Half-a-dozen seedy taverns and houses of ill-repute serve sailors watered down beer and worn-out wenches. Names like The Strident Trident and The One-Eyed Wench are commonplace. In addition, gangs of toughs, primarily “Greens” and “Reds” roam the quarter at night, brawling and accosting passerbys. Rosë narrowly avoids several altercations and you quickly learn to steer clear of the roving troublemakers.
You learn that the city has two harbors…the main harbor, where most of the trade vessels put in and the Bishop’s Harbor, so-called because it contains docks for the Bishop’s private vessel, along with docks for most of the merchant captains. Both harbors are guarded by metal and wood booms that are lowered to allow vessels to enter and raised to block the harbor in case of a sea-borne attack. The fortifications guarding the sea approach seem to be in pretty poor repair.
You take advantage of the large number of shops to replace worn equipment and buy new clothes to replace your mud and bloodstained garb. Viato suggests you wait until Marktday for any major purchases, since the large number of merchants usually leads to better deals!
Lew has kept to himself the last couple of days and has seemed fairly subdued on the occasions that he has been with you. He has spent most of the daytime in prayer in the Cathedral. Quintus spends most of his time in the library, searching for information on the Cult of Ashai. The work is tedious, for the Cathedral holds many manuscripts, scrolls and tomes on a variety of theological and secular areas of study. Quintus, along with Sextus’ spotty assistance, is able to determine the following:
- Ashai was/is thought to be the offspring of Baelzar and Voryndiel.
- She carried power from both demonic parents and built a small but deadly following in the time of the Shadowlord.
- Her sign is the jawless skull w/downward pointed dagger.
- She was particularly active in the Lost Northern Provinces and was thought to have alliances with the Felevar of the Great Northern Forest.
- Her followers made extensive use of undead servants and undead assassins to do their bidding. Her followers seemed to be able to exert undue control over undead and fortify them to resist the power of the Light.
- Her followers were known to raid graves and stalk battlefields, raising undead and taking them to do their bidding.
- Her most puissant followers operated from a secret fortress near the northern city of Lords. A specific reference is not given, but the passage relates, “…look nigh within the shadows of the dragon’s horns, betwixt the granite water and the orchard of stone. There, beneath the beds of the ancestors will you find the nest of foul Ashai.”
- Another, far more troubling fragment reads, “This then I tell you, when the dagger of darkness is once again made whole and the dead walk and the children wail will she of the darkest night and the seed of darkness come into her own. Great though the evil is, it but presages the awakening of the enemy who seeks to engulf us with the darkness of eternal slavery and damnation. Thus spoke to me the angel of the One True God.” A notation in the margin, barely legible, reads “Nolius, mad sage of Atticus…ER 2710?”
The morning of Marktday, you rise early, bathe, eat and head to the Curio shop of Lonic. He bids you welcome and explains that he has learned something of the nature of the items that you brought, but demands the balance before continuing. You haggle a bit and he finally agrees to reveal what he has discovered, since you come under the good auspices of the Church of Light. He tells you the following:
- The satchel and writing set will always refill to 25 sheets overnight, provided at least one sheet is left in the satchel at all times. In addition, the parchment is of the highest quality and suitable for penning scrolls or pages of a spell book. He shows an interest in the items and is willing to pay or trade 12,000 denarii for the item.
- The skillet greatly enhances cooking ability of anything cooked in it, virtually guaranteeing a gourmet quality meal every time it is used. He also shows an interest in this item and offers to pay or trade 4,000 denarii for it. (Player information: +10 to cooking checks.)
- The ring is a protection device that makes one harder to hit. He has no need for such an item but might be able to find a buyer for it for a 20% commission. He thinks it could fetch up to 10,000 denarii. (Player information: +1 ring of protection.)
- The axe has the ability to shift to several different sizes – from throwing/hand axe to battleaxe to great axe. The command word is “Razul” and it takes a few grains for each transformation to take place. He is not an expert in weapons or armor, but feels the axe is worth at least 8,000 denarii – possibly more.
- He indicates Rowan’s sword is what is known as a “bonded weapon”. They used to be quite common at the height of Emor’s power, but are now rarely seen (or rarely recognized). They appear as common weapons, but when their wielders place some of their life energies within the weapon through a special bonding ceremony, then the power of the weapon is revealed. Some weapons have few powers and some have many. The longer the weapons stays bonded with the owner and the more essence the owner places within the weapon, the more powerful it can become. He indicates that the surface power (first power) imbues the wielder with extraordinary jumping ability. He hesitates to put a price on the sword.
- Both potions are potions of healing, granting the imbiber the equivalent of Lew’s most powerful miracle.
Quintus unrolls the parchment and it reads:
Meet me at the “Lusty Whale” at the 8th evening bell. Ask the barkeep for “The lady in Blue” and he will direct you. Take care that you are not followed.
~ D
Old One
(DM's Note: The reaction of the players to the sudden infusion of wealth was one of amazement and borderline disbelief
! They have been so poor for so long that I don't think they know what to do with their sudden good fortune. I am sure I will find a way to painfully part them from their money soon, however!They decided to sell the satchel and frying pan to Lonic and keep the remainder, so they netted about 16,000 denarii!)
MavrickWeirdo
First Post
MONEY !!!!
Step one. divide the money evenly.
Step two. Everybody pay Quintus back what they owe him.
Step three. Quintus get a familiar.
Step four. Shopping Spree... (The city is a great place to improve equiptment, get training, buy supplies, and hire laborors to fix up Fort Scripto.)
Step one. divide the money evenly.
Step two. Everybody pay Quintus back what they owe him.
Step three. Quintus get a familiar.
Step four. Shopping Spree... (The city is a great place to improve equiptment, get training, buy supplies, and hire laborors to fix up Fort Scripto.)
- Status
Similar Threads
