Freeport Forever [3/6 - Company Of Heroes] FINAL UPDATE!

[peteyfrogboy]

The Forest Lord

Kharton leaped up to the top of the tower, landing with a heavy thud on the ancient stone. He looked out over his domain and smiled. "It is grand, is it not?" he asked one of the guards posted thereat the pinnacle of his fortress.

"Yes, Lord Kharton," replied the goblin, bobbing his head. "It is big place."

The tower had once been an Elvish outpost, though it had been many long centuries since any of the fair folk had set foot there. The central tower was some sixty feet in diameter, tapering slightly over its forty foot height. The roof was a low, fluted cone of bluish metal that still shone in the midday sun despite ages of neglect. The smooth white surface of the stone tower was still flawless where the walls were intact, though much of the south and west faces of the structure had collapsed, and part of the roof on that side had been torn away. Whatever battle had happened there was lost in the past. The breached walls had been rebuilt with crude log construction on the ground floor, with a wide gate set into the southern face of the tower. The upper two floors of the fortress were open to the air, providing only partial cover from the elements for the floors below.

Four slender guard towers surrounded the central structure, each accessible only by a walkway from the top floor of the main tower. The one at the southwest corner had been destroyed by the same force that had toppled the fortress's walls, and the walkway to the northwest tower was missing as well. The other two towers were still intact, and they were manned by wary goblin warriors. For twenty yards around the fortress the trees had been cleared, making an easily watched perimeter. Goblins, both on foot and mounted on wargs, patrolled the area.

Kharton sighed, glad that he had more than goblins for company here. Granted, his dim-witted guards were the most willing inhabitants of the place, but their conversational abilities were woefully limited. Only two years ago, Kharton himself had been little better. He had lived with others of his kind in the deeper woods -- ogres, Men called them -- clad in simple furs and bashing wildlife with clubs. Kharton was not satisfied with that crude existence. He had seen what Men could create, despite being such small, weak creatures. If they could create great kingdoms, then certainly he could do better.

The young ogre had struck out on his own, traveling toward the lands of Men, watching them and studying them when the opportunity presented itself. He found the ancient tower already home to the goblins, who he formed into a disciplined force to serve his will. He rebuilt the lower part of the fortress, creating a more defensible structure. A trade road ran through the woods a few miles away, and he lay in wait with his warriors there. They let many small bands of Men pass by, groups that the goblins would have attacked in the past. Now they had a leader, however, a leader with greater ambitions than simply gnawing on the bones of Men. Eventually he saw his quarry: a pair of wagons heavily loaded with copper mined from the mountains to the south. They were well guarded, but the ambush Kharton planned took them by surprise. Between the numbers of goblins and Kharton's great strength, the Men who guarded the wagons fell like wheat. Soon the ogre was dragging the wagons back through the woods, piled high with plunder and the bodies of his enemies.

The great weakness of Men, Kharton decided, was not their lack of strength, but their lust for money. He sent his goblin warriors out to deal with woodsmen in remote parts of the Tanglewood, trading heavy bars of copper for a variety of goods. One of them was even convinced -- with enough copper -- to bring a blacksmith out from one of the towns on the outskirts of the forest. By the time the smith realized he was being brought to meet with goblins, it was too late. They captured him and dragged him back to the fortress. The guards of the copper shipment had been wearing shirts of mail, now ripped and torn by the force of Kharton's blows. The smith was chained to the wall in the lower part of Kharton's stronghold, where he worked night and day to fashion the ruined mail shirts into a single, large garment fit for the ogre's broad frame. He was no skilled armorer, but he knew enough about the craft to be able to make a reasonable attempt. Kharton was well pleased by his civilized armor, though not pleased enough to refrain from eating the smith when he was finished.

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Debriefing

"And that's when the ogre killed Delthic Duin?" Triesta Rhodes stood with her hands folded loosely in front of her, her severe black gown only accentuating her pale skin.

Seraphim nodded. "Yes. It was awful. He was cut nearly in two. We didn't have any option but to bury him there in the forest." The halfling shifted uncomfortably on the antique chair. The small sitting room was decorated with a fortune in rare antiques and art, but the Rhodes sisters' peculiar tastes made the room seem somehow unsettling.

"A pity," said Triesta's twin Masenna, shaking her head slightly. She was dressed identically to her sister, and it was often hard to tell them apart when they didn't wear their monogrammed jewelry. "He was a talented musician." She frowned slightly and glanced at Triesta, who gave a brief nod. Seraphim could only guess what their wordless exchange was about, but she would bet her boots that Delthic had a life insurance policy with them that needed to be paid out now. Masenna looked back at her. "What happened then?"

"After Kharton fell -- that was the ogre's name -- the goblins lost heart and fled into the woods. There was no point in chasing them. Two of the prisoners the ogre had kept chained down in the bottom of the main tower had escaped during the battle and came to help us. One of them was a Wilderwoman sorceress called Wind In The Grass, and the other was Merrill Rowland, a Surian priest."

Masenna's eyebrow quirked upward. "Rowland? That's not a Surian name."

Seraphim shrugged. "I thought it seemed a little odd myself, but I never found an opportunity to ask about it. Anyway, the two prisoners told us that they had heard singing from one of the guard towers, the one that didn't have a bridge to the main tower. It took a little doing to get in there, but we found Avandrae safe and sound at the bottom of it. Obviously, she agreed to come back with us to Freeport. The other two decided to come along as well."

Triesta checked the notes she had been keeping during the interview. "According to what you've told us so far, you had been gone from Freeport for three weeks at this point. How did you manage to get back in only seven days?"

"We were trying not to think about that. We rode as hard as we could coming back, but there was no way we could get back to Istaro, let alone Freeport, in just one week. Fortunately, the wizard we met in Travatti, Vincenzo Lutti, was willing to help us. It turns out he knows one of the wizards here in the Freeport Guild, Listrianna Morgill."

Masenna nodded. "We are familiar with her."

"Well, they worked out something so that he could use the Guild teleport chamber to get us back. In return, we agreed to do him a favor sometime in the future."

Triesta frowned. "It's better to pay a wizard in cash."

Seraphim nodded. "Unfortunately, we weren't in much of a position to negotiate at that point. The rest of it you probably know already. I assume you were at the opera?" The ragged band of travelers had returned to Freeport the very afternoon of the last performance of The Death of Varula. Word of their arrival -- or more accurately, Avandrae's arrival -- had spread through the city like wildfire. Everyone who was anyone in Freeport was in attendance; a few Guild wizards who arrived late set up floating platforms near the ceiling. Luckily, the elf had no need to rehearse her performance. The few people who had seen her in the opera the first time would later say that it was even better the second time. Gorsky nearly passed out when he saw the box office numbers.

"We were able to get third row seats," said Triesta with a smile that was mirrored simultaneously by her sister. She set her notes aside and picked up a ledger from a nearby desk. "We're pleased that your mission was successful and that you returned safely. However, in your absence, we have developed quite a backlog of work for you..."

DM Notes:
* There was a long hiatus before the fight with Kharton. By the time we actually got to play again, we were all pretty much ready to get to the next storyline. After the battle, I fast-forwarded them back to Freeport. When I gave them their deadline, I had no idea how long it would take them to actually complete their quest. I knew it would be close, but it ended up a much longer trip than they had time for. Early on I decided to give them a quick way to get back, at the low cost of another plot hook.
* The two prisoners who broke out of Kharton's tower are being played by two new additions to our gaming group. I was quite happy to have some more cultural diversity in the party, which will allow me to explore some of the less central parts of my world.
* With the addition of another sorcerer as a primary PC, Seraphim has been phased out of the party.

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Tall Tales

Snick Coincatcher stood just inside the door of the Comely Mermaid, scanning the late night crowd. He scowled at the low murmur that was the tavern's only noise. Those who didn't know him well would have been hard pressed to notice any change in his usually sour expression.

The sound of lute strings being tuned caught the pawnbroker's ear. He made his way through the crowd toward the far side of the room. The rain had driven many people indoors who would normally have spent the night on the street; a few pennies would buy them some stale beer and a dry corner for the evening. Though he lacked the height and bulk of many of the people around him, Snick had long ago learned how to put his bony fingers and elbows to use one the more sensitive parts of the human anatomy. A path cleared before him as he made his way toward the sound of impending music.

As he reached the wide hearth that doubled as a small stage, Snick's scowl deepened. The gangly youth tuning his instrument was not who he was expecting to see. He leveled his gaze on the bard for a moment with no effect. A silver noble tossed into the boy's empty hat gave better results: the bard's head popped up with a broad grin on his face. "A request, milord?" he asked brightly. "John Bunden at your service."

Snick spoke in his cold, raspy voice: "Where's Delthic Duin?"

John's smile wilted. "Ah, um... you haven't heard?"

"It's been a busy week." Snick glanced pointedly at the heavy silver coin in the bard's hat. "I trust you'll enlighten me?"

"Of course." The smile returned as John found himself in slightly more familiar territory. He set the half-tuned lute down beside him. "I haven't had a chance to put music to the tale yet, but I know as well as any the strange tale of the Saviors of Freeport." Heads began to turn toward the young bard as his voice projected out into the room.

Snick raised an eyebrow. "'Saviors of Freeport'? Who the hell are they?"

"Oh, they've made quite a name for themselves lately. Giving us bards a lot of material of late. The pirate princess Rachel Caldwell, the mysterious Manhunter Nevroth, and Parika the bold treasure hunter."

"I might have known she would be mixed up in this," muttered Snick. "As I recall, she's not that bold." He shook his head. "Go on."

"I'm sure you must have heard about their daring rescue of the greatest songstress in the land, Avandrae Sialentha?"

"Of course." The opera had been the talk of the town for a couple of days, before it was supplanted by more pressing news. "Delthic went with them, as I recall."

John shook his head sadly. "Alas, our great colleague went with the Saviors on their quest, but he did not return. Felled by Kharton, the giant of the Tanglewood, was he. A sad story, and a great loss to the College and the city."

"And to others," said Snick quietly. He had learned what he needed to know, but he felt compelled to at least get his noble's worth out of this beardless bard. "So what happened after they returned?"

"Ah, yes. Well, the Saviors' great deeds had not gone unnoticed by the Captain's Council, and Sea Lord Drac himself summoned them to his palace to make them companions of the Order of Freeport." The mention of the Sea Lord's name caused many hands in the audience to make subtle warding signs. "The affair was as grand as any in living memory, with all the shining lights of the city collected in a single place. A darkness fell, however, as the hour grew late. A mysterious prophet appeared at the grand ball, bringing portents of doom. Only one hope was left: an ancient pagan artifact, carven of jade in the shape of a serpent. It was the blackest of magic of which the prophet spoke, and it could be countered only by the same."

Snick mentally calculated the current market price of jade statuary. "I assume the 'Saviors' took it upon themselves to find this artifact, since there's been no doom recently?"

"Indeed they did, milord. It was no easy task, to be sure, for the treasure was hidden beyond a place that is a legend all on its own: Black Dog's Cave."

A pained howl echoed from out in the audience. Heads turned toward a crippled old sailor deep in his cups. "Aye, so it were. If I'd known the scurvy dogs'd clean the blasted place out, I woulda charged them more to tell 'em where it was! Now I've no more livelihood and am reduced to a mere beggar."

The more socially conscious denizens of the Mermaid flung a few pennies toward the old pirate, but most returned their attention to the real story. "Indeed, they did find the cave of that murderous pirate Black Dog," continued John, "and within they faced deadly traps and the uneasy dead. Past all these dangers they fought, and found the very hoard of Black Dog himself. The angry spirit of Black Dog was not about to let his gems and jewels go without a fight, and he nearly flayed bold Parika's soul away. The Saviors were victorious, however, and came away with a king's ransom in glittering treasure."

The bard paused for a moment for a drink of wine. "Now, I must add that the three Saviors were accompanied by two others they had rescued from the giant of the Tanglewood. The one was a vicious woman of the Wild Lands, with fangs for teeth and fire in her hands. The other was a devout priest, bringing the light of the Bright Lord into that dark place." John had originally heard the story with a Surian holy man in that role, but he didn't see any need to add yet another unbelievable character into the mix. Everyone loved a tale of a heroic priest, but a Surian saving the city was a hard story to sell.

"Even though they had all the wealth a man could ever need, still they had not found the object of their quest. Spurred on only by honor and duty, they descended yet further into an ancient hive of serpent men, braving yet more dangers in search of their prophesied prize." The stories of serpent men had been making the rounds of late, and they were always a good addition to a tale. For once, though, they were actually involved. "They faced terrors and challenges, ghosts and riddles. The hours became like days in that dark vault, but the heroes' resolve did not fade. On they fought, finally extracting the gleaming serpent of jade from the claws of those monsters and returning to the light of the world above.

"As they emerged from that pit of horrors into a gray dawn, they could see a vast armada of ships in Freeport Harbor. The hundreds of ships were eagerly awaiting the night's festivities: the dedication of the great lighthouse." The bard smiled, bending over to pluck the shining silver coin from his hat. He slipped it into his purse. "But that, milord, is another story."

DM Notes:
* I ended up taking the option of stopping time within the serpent temple so they wouldn't mess the lighthouse dedication. Not only did the party need to stop and heal several times, but Parika was suffering from four negative levels inflicted by Black Dog's spectre. I didn't want her to have to go through the entire temple as a 1st level rogue, so I suspended the saving throws for the level drain as well until they emerged from the temple.
* Honestly, I'm pretty burned out on this game at this point, but I don't want to leave the story unfinished. This installment brings us up to the current point in the game. I estimate one session left to go, and one more story hour update. Most of the action is very much glossed over in this update (and the previous one), but, like I've said, I find it hard to get motivated to write up modules.
* As far as the campaign goes, the end of Madness in Freeport will mark the end of the first part. There will be a hiatus for a while, after which we should be returning to the next part of the story. The tentative title of the next part of the campaign is Bloodlines of Freeport, and dangling plot hooks will be yanked on.
* During the hiatus the group will be changing gears and playing a Star Wars campaign. Nevroth's player will be running the game (we've actually played one preliminary session already), and the story hour can be found here .

 

[peteyfrogboy]

Company Of Heroes

Finally, the last session has been played! I hope you've enjoyed it.

***

Seraphim sat with her feet dangling over the edge of her chair, cradling a thick ceramic mug full of tea in her small hands. Across the table from her was Rodrigo, a slim young Midlander who worked with her at Rhodes. He shook his head with disbelief. "You know Parika the Bold?"

The halfling smirked. "We were friends... well, a long time ago. Her life seems to have gotten a lot more exciting since she moved here, though."

Rodrigo nodded. "Everyone's talking about it, even though the Council denies everything. They say she went out the Milton's Folly the night of the dedication."

"I don't doubt it," said Seraphim, taking a sip of her tea. "She and her friends came by that morning with a bunch of stuff they needed identified in a hurry. I can't imagine why they'd be in such a rush unless they were planning to do something big, and soon."

"You mean they brought Black Dog's treasure to you?""

She shrugged. "I suppose it may have been. I was too busy analyzing dweomers to do any research on the items themselves. I didn't really feel like asking about them either; they all looked like they'd had a rough night. Lots of recently healed wounds, dirty clothes, that sort of thing."

"I wonder how they got out to the lighthouse?" said Rodrigo. "The Sea Lord's ships were patrolling all around it that day."

***

"I could barely breathe, I was so nervous." Merrill tapped his fingers on the arms of the straight-backed chair. "We were all crammed into that tiny rowboat, trying to sneak across the harbor past ships full of bloodthirsty marines. If one of them had spotted us..."

Marin Travio nodded his head, stroking his short white beard with his hand. The Surian elder had agreed to listen to Merrill's story shortly after the younger priest had begun attending services at the temple. "I can imagine how harrowing that must have been," he said in a soothing baritone. "Sometimes the Mother grants as much grace with her eye closed as with it open. As I recall, the moon was dark that night."

Merrill nodded. "I never imagined myself doing that sort of thing. The people I was with seemed to find it perfectly normal to be creeping around in the dark, climbing up ropes into a guarded monument. Even if the place hadn't been full of cultists, I doubt we would have found a pleasant welcome." He stopped for a moment, glancing at the elder apprehensively. "It was illegal, I suppose, wasn't it?"

Travio smiled. "If rules were not meant to be bent -- or sometimes, if the circumstances warrant it, broken -- we would still be saying prayers alongside our estranged brethren. No, sometimes it is only by following our hearts that we can see the true path."

"I suppose." Merrill looked down at his hands. He had done his best to refrain from violence that night, but even as he saved the lives of his companions he had been soaked with blood.

***

Wind In The Grass indicated a spot directly over her heart with one finger. "I could see the quarrel coming right at me, but there was nothing I could do. We were standing twenty feet up in an open archway. There was nothing to do but stand there and hope it missed me." She shook her head. "By the Boar's teeth, I swear I should have been struck dead right then."

White Eared Fox nodded as he rhythmically brushed his horse down. He was one of a small number of Wildermen who had settled in Freeport, and his horse training field just north of the city was a frequent gathering place for other expatriates of that land. "You are not dead, though," he said simply.

"No, but it was a close thing. Almost as soon as I felt the stab of pain in my chest, I felt Merrill catch me. If he hadn't healed the wound even as it happened, I feel sure it would have been too late." She rubbed the spot, which still felt numb even weeks later. "It was a hard-fought battle with the guards at the bottom of the lighthouse, but that was as nothing compared to what awaited us above. Once we won our way to the stairs, we climbed into a nest of the true servants of that dark god. they produced a constant barrage of fear and darkness in addition to their more mundane weaponry, and it was all we could do to keep ourselves alive. In the end, though, their power was spent and we hunted them all down."

"A good battle," said Fox with a nod. "But not the last?"

Wind shook her head. "The way upward was blocked by cunning tricks, the likes of which I had never conceived."

***

"Remember the statues?" asked Parika as she leaned on the rail of the Raging Wind. The crisp smell of salt air was refreshing after the heavy odors of the city.

Nevroth nodded. "We would have been there for hours if you hadn't figured it out."

The half-elf chuckled. "It wasn't that hard. We knew there had to be stairs going up, and there were only a few possible triggers to open the hidden passage. It was just a matter of pulling and pushing everything that looked like it could move."

"I guess." Nevroth tapped on the rail with his hook. "I just wish I hadn't gone up the stairs first."

"I know what you mean," said Parika with a nod. "What was that thing they had crawling around up there? I never got a good look at it. That insane babbling and the flashing lights had me all turned around. I think I shot Wind in the leg." She rubbed a spot on her forehead where the hair seemed shorter that the rest of the surrounding area. "I'm pretty sure she blasted me once."

Nevroth shuddered at the memory. "It was like a big pile of eyes and mouths, all boiling and squirming. If you all hadn't come to your senses and helped me kill it, I would have joined that big pile of bones it was crawling around in."

"Yeah. I wonder how many people were creeping around that place. There was that one unlucky girl who got shot in the back down in the water shrine, remember? That potion she had was probably her big escape plan, but she never got the chance to use it."

***

"I drank that potion that Parika gave me, and suddenly I was flying like a bird!" Rachel swooped her hands around to illustrate. "It was amazing."

Angus nodded as she leaned up against him. He put an arm around her shoulders as she continued telling her story. He was taller than her, and more broadly built, but as he watched her hands he could see the dozens of tiny scars that marked her skin. He had a few small burn marks of his own, but those were born of carelessness, not the true heat of battle. he wondered if, for all his brawn, he would be able to rush into battle like Rachel did time after time.

"So where was I?" Rachel was still smiling at the memory of flying. "Oh, right. So we came up through a trap door from the lair of that babbling... thing... and found ourselves almost at the top of the tower. Drac himself was there to taunt us, and threw some sort of exploding skull thing at us before he ran off. There were four serpent archers up at the top of the stairs, and one serpent wizard who started flying around, shooting fire and lightning at us. But like I said, Parika had that fancy potion of hers and I went flying up to beat on that snakey spellflinger of theirs. It was strange, because he didn't really fight back like I'm used to. He just kept backing up and shooting lightning and whatnot out of his hands. Scared me half to death, but what could I do? I just kept on running him down until I wore him out. The others were running up the stairs, and arrows were flying back and forth across the tower like bees. We finally got past them and right up underneath the little room at the top of the tower."

Rachel was quiet for a moment. The grin that was on her face as she recounted the battle with the serpent men faded. "I was eager to get up through that door, and I beat it down myself to get through. I saw Nevroth and Parika rush past me into the room, and I saw Melkior Maeorgan and Milton Drac in there waiting for us, with that awful yellow crystal glowing on the pedestal. Then Drac pointed toward me and started chanting. I thought he was going to try to scare me away again, like the other priests had done, but instead I felt my whole body freeze up. It was like my mind was suddenly cut off from my body, except I could still feel everything." She swallowed. " I felt a hand on my shoulder, and even though I couldn't turn my head I could tell there was no hand there. I hadn't seen anybody there at the top of the stairs. Then I felt the edge of a knife against my throat." She reached up and grabbed Angus's hand. "I could feel my throat being cut, Angus, and I was completely powerless to stop it. I could see a scaly green hand appearing as the knife moved, but then everything became dark, and so cold. I don't really remember anything after that, until suddenly I woke up bathed in that green light. It was just like waking up from a dream, except... I died, Angus. I know I did. And you're just not supposed to get up and walk around after you're dead."

The blacksmith patted her shoulder and made soothing noises, though in truth Rachel's story unnerved him. The rumors that were going around about Rachel and her friends saving the city from some evil fate were one thing, but hearing the tale from someone who actually lived it was quite another. "I suppose," he thought, "I'll just have to get used to being in the company of heroes."

FIN

* This is the end of our first Freeport campaign. I've already sown the seeds of the next one, though it may be quite a while before it's played. It also looks like little if any of it will actually take place in Freeport, at least at the beginning. Nevroth and Parika will almost certainly be moving on to greener pastures, to be replaced by as yet undecided characters.
* I had to deal with two character deaths during this session, and I am disinclined to kill characters off, especially in less-than-heroic circumstances. Early on, Wind was shot by one of the lighthouse guards, and the crit table declared that it was a lethal heart shot. I'm actually starting to think about retiring the crit tables, since such arbitrary slaughter doesn't really mesh well with my aversion to raising the dead. It just happened that Merrill was standing right beside Wind at that point, and had held his action since there was nobody nearby to heal. I ruled that, since he had an action available (if not strictly readied), that he could pull her back from the brink of death. She still ended up at negative hit points after the healing, but she was at least alive.
* The more difficult death to deal with was in the very last battle. Since the party was hacking through the trap door from below, Drac and his pals had ample time to prepare for their arrival. In addition to Drac's own defensive spells, Gorn was standing next to the trap door, having consumed his potion of invisibility. Early in the round, Drac managed to get Rachel (the natural target, being the group's strongest melee fighter) with a hold spell. At that point, there was nobody near Rachel and Gorn stepped up to do a CDG on her. Now that I actually think back on it, that should have taken him a full round, during which someone could easily have intervened. In the end, I ended up having the Jade Serpent bring her back to life as it destroyed the villains in the room. I don't feel so bad about that fudge now that I realize that I overlooked an important rule during the CDG itself.

 

[pogre]

I had to deal with two character deaths during this session, and I am disinclined to kill characters off, especially in less-than-heroic circumstances. Early on, Wind was shot by one of the lighthouse guards, and the crit table declared that it was a lethal heart shot. I'm actually starting to think about retiring the crit tables, since such arbitrary slaughter doesn't really mesh well with my aversion to raising the dead.

That reminds me of my quandry when using low magic and no res in my last couple of campaigns. This time around I decided to jump back into the core rules and juice the PCs up a bit. So far, so fun. Thanks for the story I did enjoy it.