drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance

[drnuncheon]

Session Twenty-Five, Part Three: Sailing to Highgate

The bow of the ship slapped against the water, and Di'Fier stood, his eyes searching for the cliffs that were far beyond the horizon.

The message had come in while he was away, buried in the stacks of mail...

To Di’Fier, Magus of the 4th Circle, greetings.

Your uncle, Jardek Anton, Baron Threehills, Magus of the 6th Circle, is greatly desirous of seeing you at once. It is my sad duty to inform you that your uncle’s health is failing swiftly, and he has expressed his wish to meet you at least once before he passes away. I hope that this message finds you before such travel becomes impossible.

The baron has enclosed a draft upon his funds that should be sufficient to pay for your travel from Freeport to his manor. I urge you to find the fleetest ship possible and take passage for Highgate posthaste. The regular carriage route that passes through Threehills leaves but once a fortnight, so I ask that you rent a private coach to convey you here with all possible speed. If the funds are insufficient please know that you will be more than recompensed upon your arrival.

Your uncle has instructed me to beg of you that you again not speak to the rest of your family of this matter—he fears that they would only prevent you from making this journey.

As one who is not only a servant of the Baron, but also counts himself a friend, I beg of you to come for your Uncle’s sake.

Ivanior Liadon,
scribe & lindëvéra
on behalf of Jardek Anton,
Baron Threehills


Beside him, Dru stood, gazing out at the same water. Far above her, the sails flapped inthe wind as the ship began to tack.

"Gods damn you, Mister Frithoff! If we miss stays I'll have your hide!"

The captain had been in a foul mood ever since they had set out - but the smuggler was the only one crazy enough to set sail for Highgate with the rainy season coming on. It's probably a good thing he's got a whole new crew, Dru reflected. The old ones might have been a bit resentful, seeing how many of them we had to kill. Her eye traced the faint scars still on the deck from Di'Fier's ice burst.

We were barely in Freeport a week, she thought to herself. And here we are off again. She was abruptly conscious of the fact that once again, she hadn't been blinking, and she forced her eyes to close and open again. Maybe we'll find Garto in Highgate. Even if he doesn't know what to do about the statue, maybe he can find someone who does. She forced her thoughts away from the disturbing change, and thought instead of the organization...

Sehanoarun's was quiet, empty but for the two people in the back: the burly elf known as Jalin, sitting across from the new de facto leader of the Naïlos.

"I'm going to Highgate," Dru told him.

"I expected you to go after him." Jalin uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his scarred fists on the table. Looking into her unblinking eyes, he said, "Don't go. You're a good fighter, but...if he hasn't returned, you're not going to stand a chance."

Dru looked away, studying the intricate carvings on the bar. "He may be determined not to leave until he can find me," she replied. "I can't just leave him."

"What about the people here? They need someone, after what Amalyth did. Kennic - he's too soft." He trailed off as Dru turned her unblinking gaze on him. His lips pursed, and he admitted, "And I'm too rough."

"I know," she said quietly. "That's why I'm leaving both of you in charge."

Deep below, in the hold of the ship, scales rubbed against scales. S'karat surveyed his people. None of them liked this strange box that jumped and swayed - even though the food was plentiful and easy to catch. They coiled and writhed in an enormous tangled ball for comfort, their cloaks discarded.

It is the will of Yig, he reminded himself. The will of Yig, and Dru.

 

[Jon Potter]

Excellent!

And very creepy image of the serpent folk below deck.

 

[Zarthon]

Re: Session Twenty-Five, Part Three: Sailing to Highgate

It is the will of Yig, he reminded himself. The will of Yig, and Dru.

I just love it!!!

 

[drnuncheon]

Session Twenty-Six, Part One: On the Trail

Di'Fier sat back in the chair. It was strange, being the one awake while Dru was in her trance. He looked down at the ring on his left hand, rubbed it unconsciously with his thumb. And I can see why Marcen was having problems with his wife, if he was up until all hours all the time. The lack of hunger was something he'd have to get used to as well.

He reached for a tome, flipped through it, but somehow he couldn't concentrate. The coach to Threehills left in a few hours, but it wasn't his relatives that were occupying his mind...

"I'm very sorry, but I can't just reveal the business of a member of the League to anyone who walks in."

The headquarters of the Trader's League was surprisingly small for a city the size of Highgate: a modest building in the center of the New City, near the lifts to Cavern Harbor. Normally, it was occupied by a handful of clerks. At the moment, the building was up one human, and one angry elf.

Dru leaned on the desk, hands curled into fists, eyes narrowed. "Why won't you tell me? Are you hiding something?"

"Uh, Dru..." Di'Fier muttered. "No badges here, remember?"

Dru glanced back at him. "I wouldn't need to get angry if he'd just tell me what I wanted," she said.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The unsaid words, before I call the Guard, hung in the air between Dru and the clerk. She considered them for a while, then spun on her heel and left.

Outside, she stormed along the street so swiftly that DiFier had to jog to catch up to her, before his long legs could settle into the proper pace. Without even glancing at him, she fumed: "He was willing enough to tell me that this 'Aust of Silathenial' was a member of the League, and that he sold 'antiquities', whatever the hell that means. Why would he just clam up like that?"

"He probably thinks you're working for a competitor. Or a bill collector."

"All I wanted to know is who might buy these 'antiquities'...what?"

Di'Fier had slowed, then stopped, and pointed up at the sign: Curiosity Shop.

"I guess it's worth a try."

"Who is this?" the old man asked slowly. "And why have you brought him here?"

He was nothing much to look at, the old man: skinny and pale and white of hair - what hair remained. But even so, both of the men before him could not help but tremble at his words.

The younger man stepped forward. "He is a cataloger, Grandfather. At one of the archeological digs. He is repaying his debt to us with artifacts." He pulled the other man forward, roughly, by the arm. "Tell him what you told me," he ordered.

"I...I just wanted...to...to warn you that I'm being watched," the man stammered. "There...there were people asking about, about buying artifacts before the museum got ahold of them." He lowered his eyes. "I...I think they know about our deal."

The younger man seized the cataloger by the scruff of the neck. "Describe them," he demanded, through clenched teeth.

"The...the one who did the talking was an elf, a woman, but with a scar on her face. Black hair, cut short...the man was a human, with a big sword over his shoulder...he didn't talk much. I think they were Guardsmen, the museum must have found out somehow..."

"You may go. The matter will be dealt with."

The cataloger stumbled from the room in relief, as the one who had brought him looked at the old man. "They match Ulric's descriptions."

"I do not think they have come to investigate a few missing pots. Find out what they are really doing here."

 

[Jon Potter]

Nice! Short. But nice!

Now you've got my interest in Highgate... err... Bluffside, I mean... piqued.

I've added it to my (rather lengthy) to-buy list.

 

[drnuncheon]

Re: Nice! Short. But nice!

Now you've got my interest in Highgate... err... Bluffside, I mean... piqued.

Like Freeport, you'll find that I made several minor changes here and there, but I did my best to keep the feel of the city from the book. One thing I've done is try to make the city older, the area feel a bit more established. It was a border city at one time, now it is a (if not the) major metropolis in the western part of the Empire as the borders expand. Another major change you'll notice are the lack of some of the more unusual races from that book - the nevae, sixam, and dragori - for various campaign reasons. The third (and this one should come as no surprise) is the replacement of the existing criminal underworld with the Dragon's Claw.

Anyway, it's definitely a worthwhile supplement, for the variety of stuff it contains and a picture of a city that is unusual and unique without being outright bizarre.

J

 

[DiFier]

Re: Session Twenty-Six, Part One: On the Trail

The cataloger stumbled from the room in relief, as the one who had brought him looked at the old man. "They match Ulric's descriptions."

"I do not think they have come to investigate a few missing pots. Find out what they are really doing here."

Oh we're really gonna have to kill Ulric now.

 

[Drusilia Nailo]

Re: Re: Session Twenty-Six, Part One: On the Trail

Oh we're really gonna have to kill Ulric now.

Did you ever doubt it? I always knew that we were going to have to kill Ulric. Especially now that we - well, I shouldn't give any spoilers...

 

[drnuncheon]

Session Twenty-Six, Part Two: Threehills Manor

The coach rattled and jerked over the highway - the road falling into disrepair the farther it got from Highgate.

"Dru."

"What?"

"We will find him."

Dru looked back at Di'Fier. Even in the dim light of the coach she could see his expression: sincerity and determination, the same qualities that had made her trust him with her life so often on the Watch.

She looked away, out the window, at the twilight landscape rolling by. "I just hope he's still alive."

"Plenty of people saw Aust. The dwarf in the weapons shop, the staff at the Sojourn Tavern..."

"That's what worries me. More people saw him and Galanodel in a week than ever saw them in Freeport. It makes me wonder if he was using it to cover up...something else. Some other tracks."

The steady thud of hooves on the roadway began to slow, and the wood of the coach-frame creaked around them. Looking out the window, Dru saw windows glowing with a cheery light, shining through the gathering darkness. The coach rolled to a stop, and the coachman descended, opening the door and flipping down the step.

"Which it is time for dinner, and there's no goin' on tonight," he told them. "Not with as dark as it is."

"Thank you," said Di'Fier, stepping down. "Why don't you have the stableboy look after the horses, and come and have a drink with us?"

"That's uncommon kind of you, sir," the coachman said, tipping his hat. "I'll see to that, I will."

A few minutes later, they were installed at one of the inn's long tables, trenchers of meat and potatos steaming before them.

"I can't believe beef is so cheap here," Di'Fier muttered.

"Which it is, which it is," the coachman responded, setting down his drink and licking the froth from his moustache. "As compared to Freeport, that is." He grinned. "Sussed your speaking, but I can't say as I ever took nobody to Threehills from Freeport."

"We're traveling to visit the Baron," Di'Fier told him, and the coachman's eyes widened.

"The cursed Baron?"

"I knew this wasn't going to be simple," Dru observed.

Which it is a terrible thing, this curse, the coachman told them over another mug of ale. And worst of all because it took his wife, and she such a pretty one - but I'm running ahead, because it started with the eldest boy, him falling sick and all, terrible sick, and having to stay indoors all the time and never go out until he died. He'd have been about your age, sir, was he to live. And then there was the twins, all sudden-like, one right after t'other. And the littlest boy after that. It was like to break a mother's heart, which it did to my mind, which it did, as they say she did away with herself in such a way as was so horrible that one of the servants took mad and has not been well since.

Thank you, sir, I will have another ale, and uncommon kind of you it is, for this is thirsty work.

Well, sir, after the...let me think...after the twins died, there was seen a ghost or spirit of some kind roaming the land each night. Some say as it was the one hunting the Baron and his family, but my cousin says as he saw the Baron order it and it listened, so I reckon he brought it to protect them, seeing as how he was a wizard and all. Which it did no good, mind, because it was after that that the youngest boy died, but then again the Baron has lived these five years or more since...

The sun was setting behind them, stretching their shadows far before them on the road, when the coachman leaned down and knocked on the window. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, ma'am, as we're just coming up to the manor now."

Di'Fier thrust his head impatiently from the window as they approached. The manor was wood over a base of weathered stone, standing on the headland that sloped from the mountains around Highgate, three day's journey to the west, slowly down to the ocean. Even here the rocky cliffs were nothing to trifle with.

Di'Fier frowned. The manor had seen better days, that was clear. The last vestige of whitewash was gone from the walls, and moss clung to the stones as ivy snaked up the side of the house. A smaller, separate building - a carriagehouse, perhaps - had once stood nearby, but it lay in an untidy sagging pile, as if it had collapsed from exhaustion.

Di'Fier didn't wait for the step to be flipped down: he jumped to the ground, leaving the coachman to fetch their bags, and strode up to the front door, knocking rapidly upon it.

After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal an elf garbed in dusky black. The elf bowed. "May I help you?"

"My name is Di'Fier. I've come to see my uncle."

At those words, the elf's face transformed from haughty indifference to a lok almost akin to sympathy. "I see. Please, come in," he said, with a glance towards Dru. "You did not receive the message, then?"

"No..."

"I am afraid that your uncle has gone quite beyond the cares of this world."

 

[Vurt]

Not to take anything away from the story itself, Doc, but your writing style has been steadily improving, what with all this practice and all. Keep it up!

Vurt