Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="peteyfrogboy" data-source="post: 1181544" data-attributes="member: 5677">Paths Of The HeartNOTE: Minor Freeport spoilers ahead.Parika sat on her bed with a pile of gold coins in front of her. "Hello, my pretties!"Rachel shook her head as she checked the edge of her cutlass with her thumb. "So, have you decided how you're going to spend your share?"The half-elf flipped one of the coins with her thumb. She had started collecting antique coins after all, it seemed. "I think my precious body needs some better armor. I'm tired of being everyone's pincushion."Rachel tried to imagine Parika wearing a suit of plate and chuckled. "Won't that make it hard to be all quiet and sneaky?""Ah," said Parika, holding up her finger, "not if it's mithril.""Oh?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of that stuff." She glanced at her own sack of coins, and at the mail shirt she'd spent an hour oiling the night before. "But it's not like you can find it at the corner store.""I've been asking around. It turns out that Blackhammer and Sons got a couple mithril shirts in trade a while back and haven't sold them yet."Rachel wiped her cutlass with a rag and slid it back into its scabbard "Sounds like it's time for a shopping trip."***In the heart of the Old City, Blackhammer and Sons' smithy was a large complex housing not only the necessities of crafting armor and weapons but also a large family. Liam Blackhammer had been a member of the Captains' Council for fourteen years, and his prosperity had only increased during that time."This is where you guys got your armor before, right?" asked Rachel.Parika nodded. "Yeah, we got a good deal. Their turnaround for custom work is pretty quick too."The two women strolled through the open gate into a large courtyard in the center of the complex. Several forges dominated the center of the space, with armor stands and weapon racks arrayed around the edge. An awning extended from the encircling building, protecting the steel wares on display from the rain. At first glance, Rachel was impressed with the quality of their work.As they entered the courtyard, they could hear the rhythm of hammers on metal echoing around them. Bright coals glowed in one of the forges. Yellow flames leaped as two young men hauled on bellows on either side. A third man had his back to the two approaching women. He was stripped to the waist, with only a leather apron to protect him from the heat. The muscles in his back bunched as he plunged his tongs into the coals and retrieved a long metal bar. He placed it on a massive anvil and began striking it with the hammer in his other hand, sending sparks flying around him. The rhythm was precise and measured as he moved the hammer along the bar, forming it into the rough shape of a blade. A mahogany colored ponytail swayed across his sweat-slicked back with each stroke.Seeing no one else around, Rachel cleared her throat. "Ah, excuse me?"The bladesmith half-turned, his hammer still striking unerringly as he looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were as blue and deep as the ocean. "Yes? Can I help--" His gaze swept over Parika and fixed on Rachel; there was a dissonant clang as his hammer struck the bare anvil. "--you?"Rachel was suddenly keenly aware of her worn sailor's coat and patched breeches. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was, uh, looking for some armor."The man blinked. "Armor?" He stared at Rachel a few heartbeats longer, then seemed to recover his senses. "Ah, yes. We make armor here."Smiling, Rachel walked up to the smith. "I hear you might have a mithril shirt for sale."He looked Rachel up and down and nodded. "It would take a little tailoring, but I think I have one that would fit you." He held out his hand. "I'm Angus, by the way. Angus Blackhammer."Parika rolled her eyes.***"So did you get a good deal on yours, too?" Nevroth chuckled.Parika huffed. "Not as good as hers, but he gave me a 'friend discount'." She took a sip of her wine. "Of course, mine didn't come with a personal armorer.""Ah, so that's where she's been all week. I was wondering.""Yeah, he's been taking her out to fancy restaurants and whatnot. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here with you."Seraphim climbed up on an empty chair. "At least I have a job. You two just wander around the city all day like bums. Rich bums, but bums all the same." She looked down at Nevroth's hands. "Hey, I thought you were getting a new hook."Nevroth reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a second, sharper hook. It was wreathed in magical, heatless flames. "I also got a better blade."Rachel came down the stairs and headed straight for their usual table in the common room. She sat in the last chair and laid claim to a leftover meat pie. "Don't fill up, Rachel," said Parika. "You don't want to spoil your appetite for your big date tonight."Rachel shook her head. "He's working tonight. Big order due next week.""Amazing."The door opened, and at first it looked as though no one was there. Seraphim was used to looking lower, though, so she was the first to see Gorsky Glitterlights wringing his hands as he approached the table."Hi Gorsky," said Nevroth. "What brings you out here?""I, ah, was actually looking for you fine folks," said the gnome. He saw no empty chairs at the table, so he contented himself with pacing back and forth. "I have a little problem."Parika grinned. "Why else would you be looking for us?""Yes, well, you see, there's the city's bicentennial coming up, with the dedication of the lighthouse and all. It's also the hundredth anniversary of the Opera House's opening, so we're celebrating by putting on The Death of Varula every day for a month.""I don't see the problem," said Nevroth.The gnome started wringing his hands again. "Well, do you remember that ghost we don't have? Well, it only strikes during productions of Varula. Every time we do the opera, someone ends up dead. It's incredibly popular, and it always brings in a lot of money, not to mention the careers it's helped. Normally it only runs for one night at a time a few times a year, so no one gets too worked up over the deaths. But if we have someone dropping dead twenty-eight days in a row, well, that's not going to be very good, is it?""Why not just do another opera?" asked Rachel."Oh, it's the Sea Lord's favorite, you see. I've really got no choice."Nevroth shrugged. "So what are we supposed to do about it? Shouldn't you be talking to a priest?"Gorsky sighed. "I did that already. According to them there's no way to get rid of a ghost except to put its spirit to rest. The problem is, no one who's seen it has survived to tell us what it wants."Parika leaned forward on her arms. "So you want us to hang around backstage and chat with your murderous ghost, then make it go away?""Uh, yes?""And when is opening night?""Tonight.""And what's in it for us?""Well, I could pay you three hundred crowns." He cringed at the thought of so much money leaving his hands. "Or I could give you your own private box," he forced a smile, "for life."Rachel raised an eyebrow. "That sounds interesting."Parika narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "I'm sure it'd make a perfect little love nest." She returned her attention to Gorsky. "But what's it worth?""Well, of course it would provide you with a lifetime of entertainment and cultural..." he trailed off under Parika's cold stare. "Normally, a box goes for ten crowns a night, five of which is profit, which would go to you should you not use it that night. Something is in production most nights of the year, and while the boxes don't sell out every time, it still starts to add up."The half-elf sat back and did some calculations in her head. She nodded slowly. "Okay, we're in."***Nevroth sat on the floor of Gorsky's office flipping through ledgers. He had tried sitting in one of the chairs, but he couldn't read past his knees. Seraphim was sitting there instead, humming as she shuffled papers.Parika poked her head in the door. "Find anything interesting?"Nevroth pointed to a series of entries in the book open before him. "This is the cast list from the first production of the opera. Judging by the names, I'd say they were all human, which means they'd be dead by now. Nothing useful there. Except this one: Avandrae Sialentha. Sounds Elvish, doesn't it?""That it does," said Parika. She leaned over his shoulder. She pointed to another column in the ledger. "Wow. Are those their wages?""Yeah, that's the other interesting thing. This elf, whoever she was, took up almost half the budget of the production. She was cast as Varula -- no big surprise. I wonder if she's still alive.""Most likely," said Parika. "Barring accidents or disease, elves just go on and on and on. So which one of them died?""None of them," said Seraphim. "I've been going through the clippings and letters from around the time of the first production. The only death mentioned is the composer, another elf named Fiarella Donadrien. The cause is mysterious, but it doesn't say her hair had turned white or anything else like what happened to the ghost's victims."Parika walked over to Gorsky's desk, where the gnome was busily calculating potential profits from the production. "Hey, Gorsky. Do you know anything about these elves?""Hm? Who?" After they filled him in on their discoveries, he shrugged. "The composer I've never heard of, except for her credit on the opera. I took over the Opera House after its first owner died. Got a good deal on it, too." He chuckled for a moment, then refocused. "Anyway, Avandrae Sialentha is definitely a name I know. She's an eccentric elvish singer. Very talented, but incredibly picky about the projects she takes on. Only surfaces once every couple years, and charges a king's ransom for her services. It's worth it, too, from what I understand." He closed his books and stood up. "Well, curtain's soon. You'd better get ready backstage. Good luck."***How are we supposed to find this ghost if no one's ever seen it before?" asked Rachel."Well, most people would be trying to avoid the murderous ghost," said Parika. "Even if they caught a glimpse of it they'd probably tell themselves it was something else."The mood backstage was subdued. Stage hands scurried back and forth wordlessly, hauling props and costumes to and fro. The first act of the opera was in progress."This is supposed to be a popular opera? asked Seraphim.Nevroth shrugged. "You have to take into account that they expect one of them to die every night for the next month. That's most of the cast." He looked around the jungle of ropes and curtains. "All right, let's get moving."They didn't have to look long. In a small nook off to one side of the stage, a luminescent figure stood and watched the opera. She was dressed in the unchanging style of her people, her hair blowing around her delicately pointed ears in an unfelt wind. She watched the actors with a sour expression, arms crossed across her chest.The manhunter started to reach for his sword, then stopped; it would do no good. "Fiarella Donadrien, I presume?"The apparition's head turned. Her lifeless gaze sent a chill through all of them. "That was my name, soiled though it is.""Soiled?" asked Parika. "How do you mean?"The ghost looked back at the players on stage. "Chained to this travesty of an opera, how could it be unsullied? Listen to them, croaking away like congested toads.""They're afraid you're going to kill them.""As well I should. They've been butchering my masterpiece for a hundred years. They don't deserve to live.""What about Avandrae Sialentha?" asked Seraphim.The anger in the ghost's face faded, replaced by an even deeper pain. "Oh, Avandrae. She was different. She had the talent to make my music fly. After that first night I thought I could never hear anything so beautiful again. It broke my heart in two." Her features contorted in anger again. "Perhaps I should have waited for the encore so I could die of disgust instead."Nevroth glanced at the others. "What if we could find Avandrae and convince her to perform your opera again?"Fiarella turned again, hope blossoming on her tortured face. "You would do this?""If we can. She may be dead as well."The ghost shook her head. "No, she lives still. I would know if it were otherwise." Her face hardened again."It will take some time to find her," said Parika. "Will you promise not to kill anyone until we return?"The anger returned to the apparition's features. "I will stay my hand." A cold light burned in her eyes. "If you fail me, however, I will bring a horror the like of which not even this city can imagine!"The ghost faded away, leaving only the echo of her final words in their ears.DM Notes:* The exchange between Rachel and Angus was the result of a simple opposed roll. They both made Diplomacy checks to haggle over the mithril shirt and both botched. "What does that mean?" I wondered. "Ah, it must be love!" On the second roll he botched again, so he fell particularly hard. Rachel is played by my wife, so it was quite amusing to run. I don't remember the exact words, but it went something like: "The sweaty, shirtless blacksmith turns around. You hear your bodice ripping."</blockquote>

Verification