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Journal of the Souls of Legend (completed)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7519953" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><strong>The Darks of Yartar</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><p style="text-align: center">The Darks of Yartar.</p><p></strong></p><p></p><p><em>There are two things you can rely on when you are in a den of cony catchers, is that for certain you know that everyone is looking out for their own interests. The real question isn’t if your interest and theirs are the same, it’s when their interest changes.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Which leads to the second thing you can rely on, it always changes.</em></p><p></p><p></p><p>We descended the worn stone stairs, arriving at a battered oaken door. Without a pause, our Knight gripped the handle, opened it and continued down into ‘the Lusty Bard.’ The gnome followed him, and I followed the gnome with our Tinman bringing up the rear.</p><p></p><p>Once below, my eyes quickly adjusted and gave me that strange mix of colors and greys. I could tell the humans were having challenges adjusting to the dark by their squinting and the quick turns of their heads. The darkened room was typical of a tap room with benches and tables were scattered around and columns supporting the building above. A bar with some tapped barrels behind it followed the long wall with the barrels stacked on their sides in a rack. The room was perhaps half full, and while none of the patrons turned their heads to look at us, their eyes told a different story. Everyone seemed to be watching and sizing us up out of the corner of their eyes.</p><p></p><p>Despite the name, there wasn’t a bard present, or any music at all. Only the quiet murmur of the crowd, which became even more subdued as we closed the door behind us and stepped off the landing. We were outsiders, and it wasn’t clear of at all on what they thought of us. Personally, I was hoping not to draw any attention to myself; the only women in the room were a couple of serving girls, that were both homely and weathered. I knew I would stand out and attract attention, but I didn’t want to be picked out to be a cony.</p><p></p><p>Right after the door closed, the Knight made a quick flourish of his hands and with confidence strode over to an empty trestle table, worn and stained with…well at least beer or ale. I didn’t recognize what he did, but I guessed he sent a signal or message to the various folks in the bar. The crowd did react; some turned their heads away uninterested, others shrugged, and a small number seemed to be more interested than before.</p><p></p><p>We threaded our way between the haphazard collection of tables, when one of the girls wandering around the taproom came by to give us a look over. She was young, with black hair, brown eyes and olive skin, wearing a crooked smile on her face. I also noted she was a fair bit more attractive than the other two serving girls who were dropping off drinks to the other tables. And then she said; “So watcha want strangers?”</p><p></p><p>“A round of ale for my associates,” the Knight replied.</p><p></p><p>“I would prefer just some water,” the Fingerpainter corrected. He then looked at the Knight, “I need to keep my mind sharp in a place like this.”</p><p></p><p>The Tinman and I said nothing and for me, an ale would be just fine. But the serving girl looked at the gnome with an arched eyebrow, clicked her tongue in her mouth, held out her hand and said, “A silver for the table then. Might take a bit to find…plain water.”</p><p></p><p>The knight shrugged and tossed a stinger to her, which she deftly caught. As we sat down at the table, she brushed herself next to the gnome and commented, “We don’t usually get much requests here for water; most folks think it’s not safe for you.”</p><p></p><p>“My mind is more important!” the Fingerpainter replied and was trying to ignore her in his personal space.</p><p></p><p>The girl shrugged and wandered into the crowd towards the bar. The Tinman turned his head to look at the gnome. “Water? Really?”</p><p></p><p>“I am not going to justify my beverage choice to you! But not ordering something would look strange do you not think?”</p><p></p><p>“I think the water order was strange enough. You might as well gotten the ale and not drank it.”</p><p></p><p>“But I was thirsty and drinking from my skin would be rude in an establishment such as this. And that would have been wasting an ale.”</p><p></p><p>At this point a different serving girl arrived at the table and asked, “So what did you folks want?”</p><p></p><p>The Knight looked at her briefly and said, “The other girl was getting us some ales.”</p><p></p><p>She looked at him for a second with an amused look on her face, “Honey, we got two girls workin’ today and neither of us have talked to you, so what did you want?”</p><p></p><p>This got the Knight’s attention, “I said I gave an order and coin to the other girl. You know, the young pretty one with dark hair.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah…you mean Senya. Sorry hon’ she isn’t a serving girl here. And good luck finding her and your coin. Should have waited for the ale before paying up too,” she said with a smirk on her face, and a stifled giggle.</p><p></p><p>The Knight, realizing he’d been duped, covered his face with his hand and groaned. Finally, he muttered, “Just three ales then…” then he looked at the gnome and pointed </p><p>at him, he then amended it, “…and a water for him.” Nearby, some patrons at a table, snorted trying to hold in their laughter.</p><p></p><p>“Sure thing,” and she walked off towards the bar. While this was going on I checked the room out and I was not surprised to see that I couldn’t see “Senya” anywhere. It was well executed; and established we didn’t know who was who here. But it was a bit of a ploy for a stinger.</p><p></p><p>The noise next to me caused me to turn my head as the gnome was patting himself with his hand around his belt and was saying something in a language I didn’t recognize. He then with a steely glare looked at the Knight, “She took my coin pouch…that…that…Senya. This is your fault!” and he stabbed his finger at the Knight.</p><p>Now it was clear what the cony was, and it appeared that her score was going to be a bit higher than just a stinger. I couldn’t help myself but smile. Yet at the same time, I checked my own belongings. Fortunately for me I had everything still. Probably because I don’t keep my coin in a coin pouch at my side. </p><p></p><p>The Knight had a look of shock on his face, “I told them to leave…never mind.”</p><p></p><p>“Some pull you have here,” I remarked dryly. “I feel perfectly at home at this point. Thanks.” </p><p></p><p>At this point the Tinman was laughing as well, “Well…you did say ‘what could possibly go wrong’ after all.”</p><p></p><p>The Knight’s cheeks had turned a nice baator red and his face scrunched up in anger. He glared towards the bar, stood up, and waded through the patrons, heading for the keeper.</p><p></p><p>Just as he reached it, a pair of sounds grabbed our, and for that matter everyone else’s attention in the bar. The sound of a quarrel being fired, and the sound of it hitting its mark. The latter came from the back of a human in leathers, and he promptly fell flat on his face not two paces from the door leading to the stairs. Turning to my left the owner of the quarrel was an elf. Guessing by the flowing white hair, delicate pointed ears, and the dusky skin I was guessing one of the dark elves; a drow. Her eyes were cold, and she had the faintest smile on her lips as she looked at the now fallen body on the floor. Her lithe body was dressed in black leathers, covering what appeared to be fine chain underneath. In her hand was a small handheld crossbow, and in the other was a sword. </p><p></p><p>I probably stared longer than I meant to; she was exotic and unlike any other elf kind I had ever seen. Most drow never come to Sigil, and those that do, always seem to be ‘Giving the Laugh’ or hiding from someone; their god, their sisters or brothers, or someone. While rarely seen, everyone knew about them and the power that ruled them. And the reputation they had was they were capable, cruel, and not to be trusted. I had only seen one other before in my life, and that one was a corpse. And despite the fact she just ‘delivered the mail,’ she was already intriguing.</p><p></p><p>But if she noticed me staring at her, she gave no indication. With a quick snap of her fingers, two men came from behind her and approached the silent man on the ground. They quickly cuffed him and after opening the door, dragged him to the street above. The drow paying no heed to anyone around her, followed with an air of smug confidence. She followed the two men, and the door closed, returning the taphouse to its dim light. Shortly afterwards, the murmuring started.</p><p>The Knight at this point returned, and like others was staring at the door where she had exited and calmly tossed a pouch over to the Fingerpainter.</p><p></p><p>The gnome was surprised, saying “That was quick; seems to have all my coin in it too. How did you manage to do that?”</p><p></p><p>The Knight nodded at the doorway, “Well, the tap keeper was playing dumb at first. But when that…” nodding his head towards they doorway, “happened, he seemed to change his mind. I asked about it too, and she is some enforcer for the Waterbaroness here.”</p><p></p><p>“The local ruler I take,” I remarked “And fortunate for us. And it didn’t cost you anything?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, it cost a small favor owed to me,” came a voice from a figure that had approached quietly behind our Tinman. “But, a small investment made can pay handsomely; especially for skilled individuals.” I turned my head to look at the new arrival; the voice indicated a ‘he’ and he wore a full cloak, with his hood up. And while I was sure the humans, couldn’t see well, I was certain the gnome saw what I saw under the hood. A smiling face with pointed teeth, solid colored eyes without the whites, and a pair of thick horns curling down around his ears.</p><p></p><p>He waved his hand, and the serving girl, brought out our drinks, plus a fifth which he grabbed off her serving tray. With a lazy, practiced flourish he pulled his hood back and continued that grin and spoke “And I see we have four newcomers to Yartar.”</p><p></p><p>“What makes you think we’re new here?” the Knight challenged.</p><p></p><p>“Well simple, you tried to warn everyone to leave your friends alone upon entry. But you clearly aren’t a member of the guild here, so of course the guild decided to put you in your place.”</p><p></p><p>“How do you know that?”</p><p></p><p>“You aren’t a woman,” the tiefling continued with that smug smile. “Or at least I am fairly certain you aren’t a very unattractive one. And the local guild only accepts women. But, this is well known to the locals, but not to you. So, you must be new here.”</p><p></p><p>The Knights mouth opened and shut a couple of times, as he clearly couldn’t think of a smart retort.</p><p></p><p>“But, everyone is new once and I for one enjoy new company. You may call me Mordai. But please, why don’t you relax a bit so we can chat? Who might I have the pleasure of addressing?” and he pulled a stool from another table and casually sat down between the fingerpainter and the Tinman and across from me.</p><p>“I am Beepu Titeepockey of Silverymoon, and I suppose I owe you thanks for my pouch,” giving a pointed stare at the Knight once again. “He is Iesa and the large one next to you is Daneath.”</p><p></p><p>“I see, and well met. But who is this woman that I see? While I can see the shape of her face the colors are lost in the darkness. You can probably take the hood down as the sun won’t bother your eyes here.”</p><p></p><p>I know that I tilted my head to one side and regarded him. He was puzzled, but he hid it well with a smooth tongue. But it was a subtle challenge that hung in the air. Pulling myself straight, I dropped the hood down and shook my hair free. “Myrai. I hope there is enough light for you to see me proper now?” as I fixed my eyes on him.</p><p>To his credit, he barely reacted. Like myself, I was sure he couldn’t have seen my eyes or hair in the dark under the hood. They would appear flat and featureless. Only in the light can you see your reflection, and hair in the dark is just grey hair with trending toward light or dark. So, my metallic hair and mirrored eyes weren’t what he was expecting.</p><p></p><p>“I would have thought you were an eladrin here in the dark, but you are altogether rarer…Aasimar.” He said with a hint of distaste and a little loud.</p><p></p><p>The other patrons in the taproom, had noticed this exchange and of course turned their heads to look at this development. Many of them did doubletakes and the conversation picked up a bit here and there. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but my “reveal” was causing a stir in this downtrodden bar.</p><p></p><p>I then smiled, “Your skills at observation are still holding up zu’ling. But for a friendly conversation your tone concerns me. Are you uncomfortable with me berk?” and I waited.</p><p></p><p>Still smiling he replied, “Of course not, but I’m a tiefling not a, what did you say, a zu’ling?”</p><p></p><p>I had grabbed my mug that was set on the table earlier and took a sip and replied, “I disagree, your coloring and features are very consistent with a zu’ling. You don’t have the foul complexion of a loth’ling and your features and coloration in combination wouldn’t be typical for a tanar’ling. But all the word ‘zu’ling’ means is what plane has touched you. All, are tieflings after all.” And I took another casual sip and watched.</p><p></p><p>He was processing what I said, and he appeared to take it as is. This told me two things. First, because he had never heard the term zu’ling, he wasn’t a planeswalker. And second, calling him a berk didn’t cause a defensive reaction either. To me that sealed it; he was a clueless prime. But, while that certainly true, it didn’t mean he didn’t know things.</p><p></p><p>“You don’t care for her much, do you?” the Knight said dryly.</p><p></p><p>“No…considering her kind and mine are polar opposites. But, now we have formally met you seem to be exactly the people I am looking for…mostly,” He said, not even giving me a second look unsurprisingly. To be honest, tieflings and aasimar generally aren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Being descended from creatures of belief sometimes manifests as physical discomfort. Not always, and not even universally. I barely noticed any discomfort with this one, but he seemed more affected by me.</p><p></p><p>“An interesting offer,” the Knight said, “But we were more interested in some…local information.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m not an information broker really. My organization that I…represent is more goal and action oriented.”</p><p></p><p>“And what organization is that?” the Tinman asked.</p><p></p><p>“We call ourselves, the ‘Crimson Star,’ and we have interests in strong commerce…and keeping it strong.” Mordai replied. “Yartar is an up and coming city, and all it needs is some pushes in the right direction. The right pushes will lead to stronger influence in the ‘Lord’s Alliance.’ And so, we are always looking for capable hands.”</p><p>The Knight nodded, “Makes sense. But I think we have…other plans right now. But we are curious about some things we saw in town.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh? And what would that be?” he looked at the Knight with some amusement.</p><p></p><p>“Well, we noticed a heavily loaded wagon coming from the north under escort. I didn’t think there was much around here that would warrant one. Know anything about that?”</p><p></p><p>The tiefling regarded the Knight with a look of interest, “Them? That’s the Waterbaroness’ pet project. Seems that since the Elk tribe ‘disappeared,’ she has a band of folks looting Elk burial mounds.”</p><p></p><p>“What do you mean ‘disappeared?” the Fingerpainter asked.</p><p></p><p>“The Elk haven’t been seen now in two seasons, which is unlike them to say the least. And so, the Waterbaroness made a decree that all burial sites were the sole property of her excellency. I hear that there is an outpost north of town where they rove the plains.”</p><p></p><p>“What’s so interesting about these mounds?” the Tinman asked.</p><p></p><p>“Burial customs of the elk, usually find some wealth with them. But its mystery if this is some type of crass form of grave robbing or…something else.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “But the Waterbaroness has been a bit distracted lately, so getting her opinion is a bit challenging.”</p><p></p><p>“Distracted by what?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, the Hate Night festivities.” And the tiefling took another drink.</p><p></p><p>“That was the other question, what is this Hate Night? I’ve never heard of it.” The Knight interjected.</p><p></p><p>The tiefling frowned a moment and then spoke, “It started maybe, four or five years ago. The Waterbaroness announced a celebration and gave a warning. A grand masked ball at the Waterbaroness’ keep, to which everyone copied. But the warning was to keep indoors the entire night. Effectively a curfew on the town…or else.”</p><p></p><p>“Or else…what?” the Knight asked.</p><p></p><p>“Well…that is the interesting part. Each Hate Night a fog rises in the town, and people who wander in it, lose their memory. It’s all very mysterious, and random. One year, it happened three times, another only once. Never the same day, and it can be announced any season.”</p><p></p><p>I frowned to myself. I was wondering if it were a planar in nature, specifically to one place where I had heard that holding on to memories were a problem. The Feywild. A shadow of the prime that was a twisted mirror of its environs. But I had never heard of a town so close to a border of it. It sounded almost like a gate town in this regard. But on the Prime? Was it possible?</p><p></p><p>“But somehow, the Waterbaroness knows exactly when it is and she always enjoys her captive audience in her domicile. In fact, it’s the only time that every guard is basically off duty; not that anyone can take advantage of it,” and Mordai drained his cup.</p><p></p><p>We looked at each other, digesting what we just heard. I thought it was an interesting chant. The stuff about the Hate Night was interesting local history, if not terribly useful. But the idea of the robbing the graves of the Elk sounded wrong. And as I remembered, ‘Flint Rock’ was a cairn…so we might need to hurry.</p><p>The Fingerpainter was more blunt about the whole scenario saying, “Well that is all very interesting, but we already have things to do and little time. So, taking on additional work is out of the questions!”</p><p></p><p>The Knight flipped a jinx to Mordai and said, “Well thanks for the information.”</p><p></p><p>Mordai looked vaguely insulted, but pocketed the coin and said, “Well, perhaps when you have finished your…obligations then. You can leave a message with the tapkeeper here, and it will get to me swiftly. Good day.” And he stood and sauntered off in the back of ‘The Lusty Bard.’</p><p></p><p>At that point that the Knight and I heard something in the background. Sounding like muffled shouting. Our eyes caught each other as we both tilted our heads at the same time confirming it wasn’t our imagination either. At that point, a door on the far side of the bar opened, and the shouting became clearer. </p><p>It was a mixture of cheering, jeers and insults and what sounded to be a fight going on. The door closed, as a patron exited with some excitement and a smile on his face; perhaps the first honest smile I had seen in the taproom since we arrived. </p><p></p><p>The Tinman reached out and tugged the sleeve of the smiling man and asked, “Hey, is that a fighting pit down over there?”</p><p></p><p>The beaming patron nodded, “Yes it is,” and the patron looked at the Tinman up and down. “Heh, you’re large enough to be a contender. Thinking on trying your luck on the floor?”</p><p></p><p>The Tinman stood up with a dreamy grin on his face and said:</p><p></p><p>“Yes…yes I am.”</p><p></p><p><strong>Session Notes</strong></p><p>first, sorry on being a bit late; gaming convention distraction. Also, again if you aren't familiar with Sigil cant, 'Darks' means 'secrets' This was part of our earliest sessions, and we were still feeling out the characters a bit, and we had an interesting mix of non-charismatic characters trying to be the face of the party. In fact, we were very tentative about who was leading the pack. From my perspective, I was 'tagging' along as I didn't really care about Flint Rock yet.</p><p></p><p>And of course, still 1st level...which leads to some interesting things we will see soon.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 7519953, member: 6971069"] [b]The Darks of Yartar[/b] [B][CENTER]The Darks of Yartar.[/CENTER] [/B] [I]There are two things you can rely on when you are in a den of cony catchers, is that for certain you know that everyone is looking out for their own interests. The real question isn’t if your interest and theirs are the same, it’s when their interest changes. Which leads to the second thing you can rely on, it always changes.[/I] We descended the worn stone stairs, arriving at a battered oaken door. Without a pause, our Knight gripped the handle, opened it and continued down into ‘the Lusty Bard.’ The gnome followed him, and I followed the gnome with our Tinman bringing up the rear. Once below, my eyes quickly adjusted and gave me that strange mix of colors and greys. I could tell the humans were having challenges adjusting to the dark by their squinting and the quick turns of their heads. The darkened room was typical of a tap room with benches and tables were scattered around and columns supporting the building above. A bar with some tapped barrels behind it followed the long wall with the barrels stacked on their sides in a rack. The room was perhaps half full, and while none of the patrons turned their heads to look at us, their eyes told a different story. Everyone seemed to be watching and sizing us up out of the corner of their eyes. Despite the name, there wasn’t a bard present, or any music at all. Only the quiet murmur of the crowd, which became even more subdued as we closed the door behind us and stepped off the landing. We were outsiders, and it wasn’t clear of at all on what they thought of us. Personally, I was hoping not to draw any attention to myself; the only women in the room were a couple of serving girls, that were both homely and weathered. I knew I would stand out and attract attention, but I didn’t want to be picked out to be a cony. Right after the door closed, the Knight made a quick flourish of his hands and with confidence strode over to an empty trestle table, worn and stained with…well at least beer or ale. I didn’t recognize what he did, but I guessed he sent a signal or message to the various folks in the bar. The crowd did react; some turned their heads away uninterested, others shrugged, and a small number seemed to be more interested than before. We threaded our way between the haphazard collection of tables, when one of the girls wandering around the taproom came by to give us a look over. She was young, with black hair, brown eyes and olive skin, wearing a crooked smile on her face. I also noted she was a fair bit more attractive than the other two serving girls who were dropping off drinks to the other tables. And then she said; “So watcha want strangers?” “A round of ale for my associates,” the Knight replied. “I would prefer just some water,” the Fingerpainter corrected. He then looked at the Knight, “I need to keep my mind sharp in a place like this.” The Tinman and I said nothing and for me, an ale would be just fine. But the serving girl looked at the gnome with an arched eyebrow, clicked her tongue in her mouth, held out her hand and said, “A silver for the table then. Might take a bit to find…plain water.” The knight shrugged and tossed a stinger to her, which she deftly caught. As we sat down at the table, she brushed herself next to the gnome and commented, “We don’t usually get much requests here for water; most folks think it’s not safe for you.” “My mind is more important!” the Fingerpainter replied and was trying to ignore her in his personal space. The girl shrugged and wandered into the crowd towards the bar. The Tinman turned his head to look at the gnome. “Water? Really?” “I am not going to justify my beverage choice to you! But not ordering something would look strange do you not think?” “I think the water order was strange enough. You might as well gotten the ale and not drank it.” “But I was thirsty and drinking from my skin would be rude in an establishment such as this. And that would have been wasting an ale.” At this point a different serving girl arrived at the table and asked, “So what did you folks want?” The Knight looked at her briefly and said, “The other girl was getting us some ales.” She looked at him for a second with an amused look on her face, “Honey, we got two girls workin’ today and neither of us have talked to you, so what did you want?” This got the Knight’s attention, “I said I gave an order and coin to the other girl. You know, the young pretty one with dark hair.” “Ah…you mean Senya. Sorry hon’ she isn’t a serving girl here. And good luck finding her and your coin. Should have waited for the ale before paying up too,” she said with a smirk on her face, and a stifled giggle. The Knight, realizing he’d been duped, covered his face with his hand and groaned. Finally, he muttered, “Just three ales then…” then he looked at the gnome and pointed at him, he then amended it, “…and a water for him.” Nearby, some patrons at a table, snorted trying to hold in their laughter. “Sure thing,” and she walked off towards the bar. While this was going on I checked the room out and I was not surprised to see that I couldn’t see “Senya” anywhere. It was well executed; and established we didn’t know who was who here. But it was a bit of a ploy for a stinger. The noise next to me caused me to turn my head as the gnome was patting himself with his hand around his belt and was saying something in a language I didn’t recognize. He then with a steely glare looked at the Knight, “She took my coin pouch…that…that…Senya. This is your fault!” and he stabbed his finger at the Knight. Now it was clear what the cony was, and it appeared that her score was going to be a bit higher than just a stinger. I couldn’t help myself but smile. Yet at the same time, I checked my own belongings. Fortunately for me I had everything still. Probably because I don’t keep my coin in a coin pouch at my side. The Knight had a look of shock on his face, “I told them to leave…never mind.” “Some pull you have here,” I remarked dryly. “I feel perfectly at home at this point. Thanks.” At this point the Tinman was laughing as well, “Well…you did say ‘what could possibly go wrong’ after all.” The Knight’s cheeks had turned a nice baator red and his face scrunched up in anger. He glared towards the bar, stood up, and waded through the patrons, heading for the keeper. Just as he reached it, a pair of sounds grabbed our, and for that matter everyone else’s attention in the bar. The sound of a quarrel being fired, and the sound of it hitting its mark. The latter came from the back of a human in leathers, and he promptly fell flat on his face not two paces from the door leading to the stairs. Turning to my left the owner of the quarrel was an elf. Guessing by the flowing white hair, delicate pointed ears, and the dusky skin I was guessing one of the dark elves; a drow. Her eyes were cold, and she had the faintest smile on her lips as she looked at the now fallen body on the floor. Her lithe body was dressed in black leathers, covering what appeared to be fine chain underneath. In her hand was a small handheld crossbow, and in the other was a sword. I probably stared longer than I meant to; she was exotic and unlike any other elf kind I had ever seen. Most drow never come to Sigil, and those that do, always seem to be ‘Giving the Laugh’ or hiding from someone; their god, their sisters or brothers, or someone. While rarely seen, everyone knew about them and the power that ruled them. And the reputation they had was they were capable, cruel, and not to be trusted. I had only seen one other before in my life, and that one was a corpse. And despite the fact she just ‘delivered the mail,’ she was already intriguing. But if she noticed me staring at her, she gave no indication. With a quick snap of her fingers, two men came from behind her and approached the silent man on the ground. They quickly cuffed him and after opening the door, dragged him to the street above. The drow paying no heed to anyone around her, followed with an air of smug confidence. She followed the two men, and the door closed, returning the taphouse to its dim light. Shortly afterwards, the murmuring started. The Knight at this point returned, and like others was staring at the door where she had exited and calmly tossed a pouch over to the Fingerpainter. The gnome was surprised, saying “That was quick; seems to have all my coin in it too. How did you manage to do that?” The Knight nodded at the doorway, “Well, the tap keeper was playing dumb at first. But when that…” nodding his head towards they doorway, “happened, he seemed to change his mind. I asked about it too, and she is some enforcer for the Waterbaroness here.” “The local ruler I take,” I remarked “And fortunate for us. And it didn’t cost you anything?” “Oh, it cost a small favor owed to me,” came a voice from a figure that had approached quietly behind our Tinman. “But, a small investment made can pay handsomely; especially for skilled individuals.” I turned my head to look at the new arrival; the voice indicated a ‘he’ and he wore a full cloak, with his hood up. And while I was sure the humans, couldn’t see well, I was certain the gnome saw what I saw under the hood. A smiling face with pointed teeth, solid colored eyes without the whites, and a pair of thick horns curling down around his ears. He waved his hand, and the serving girl, brought out our drinks, plus a fifth which he grabbed off her serving tray. With a lazy, practiced flourish he pulled his hood back and continued that grin and spoke “And I see we have four newcomers to Yartar.” “What makes you think we’re new here?” the Knight challenged. “Well simple, you tried to warn everyone to leave your friends alone upon entry. But you clearly aren’t a member of the guild here, so of course the guild decided to put you in your place.” “How do you know that?” “You aren’t a woman,” the tiefling continued with that smug smile. “Or at least I am fairly certain you aren’t a very unattractive one. And the local guild only accepts women. But, this is well known to the locals, but not to you. So, you must be new here.” The Knights mouth opened and shut a couple of times, as he clearly couldn’t think of a smart retort. “But, everyone is new once and I for one enjoy new company. You may call me Mordai. But please, why don’t you relax a bit so we can chat? Who might I have the pleasure of addressing?” and he pulled a stool from another table and casually sat down between the fingerpainter and the Tinman and across from me. “I am Beepu Titeepockey of Silverymoon, and I suppose I owe you thanks for my pouch,” giving a pointed stare at the Knight once again. “He is Iesa and the large one next to you is Daneath.” “I see, and well met. But who is this woman that I see? While I can see the shape of her face the colors are lost in the darkness. You can probably take the hood down as the sun won’t bother your eyes here.” I know that I tilted my head to one side and regarded him. He was puzzled, but he hid it well with a smooth tongue. But it was a subtle challenge that hung in the air. Pulling myself straight, I dropped the hood down and shook my hair free. “Myrai. I hope there is enough light for you to see me proper now?” as I fixed my eyes on him. To his credit, he barely reacted. Like myself, I was sure he couldn’t have seen my eyes or hair in the dark under the hood. They would appear flat and featureless. Only in the light can you see your reflection, and hair in the dark is just grey hair with trending toward light or dark. So, my metallic hair and mirrored eyes weren’t what he was expecting. “I would have thought you were an eladrin here in the dark, but you are altogether rarer…Aasimar.” He said with a hint of distaste and a little loud. The other patrons in the taproom, had noticed this exchange and of course turned their heads to look at this development. Many of them did doubletakes and the conversation picked up a bit here and there. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but my “reveal” was causing a stir in this downtrodden bar. I then smiled, “Your skills at observation are still holding up zu’ling. But for a friendly conversation your tone concerns me. Are you uncomfortable with me berk?” and I waited. Still smiling he replied, “Of course not, but I’m a tiefling not a, what did you say, a zu’ling?” I had grabbed my mug that was set on the table earlier and took a sip and replied, “I disagree, your coloring and features are very consistent with a zu’ling. You don’t have the foul complexion of a loth’ling and your features and coloration in combination wouldn’t be typical for a tanar’ling. But all the word ‘zu’ling’ means is what plane has touched you. All, are tieflings after all.” And I took another casual sip and watched. He was processing what I said, and he appeared to take it as is. This told me two things. First, because he had never heard the term zu’ling, he wasn’t a planeswalker. And second, calling him a berk didn’t cause a defensive reaction either. To me that sealed it; he was a clueless prime. But, while that certainly true, it didn’t mean he didn’t know things. “You don’t care for her much, do you?” the Knight said dryly. “No…considering her kind and mine are polar opposites. But, now we have formally met you seem to be exactly the people I am looking for…mostly,” He said, not even giving me a second look unsurprisingly. To be honest, tieflings and aasimar generally aren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Being descended from creatures of belief sometimes manifests as physical discomfort. Not always, and not even universally. I barely noticed any discomfort with this one, but he seemed more affected by me. “An interesting offer,” the Knight said, “But we were more interested in some…local information.” “I’m not an information broker really. My organization that I…represent is more goal and action oriented.” “And what organization is that?” the Tinman asked. “We call ourselves, the ‘Crimson Star,’ and we have interests in strong commerce…and keeping it strong.” Mordai replied. “Yartar is an up and coming city, and all it needs is some pushes in the right direction. The right pushes will lead to stronger influence in the ‘Lord’s Alliance.’ And so, we are always looking for capable hands.” The Knight nodded, “Makes sense. But I think we have…other plans right now. But we are curious about some things we saw in town.” “Oh? And what would that be?” he looked at the Knight with some amusement. “Well, we noticed a heavily loaded wagon coming from the north under escort. I didn’t think there was much around here that would warrant one. Know anything about that?” The tiefling regarded the Knight with a look of interest, “Them? That’s the Waterbaroness’ pet project. Seems that since the Elk tribe ‘disappeared,’ she has a band of folks looting Elk burial mounds.” “What do you mean ‘disappeared?” the Fingerpainter asked. “The Elk haven’t been seen now in two seasons, which is unlike them to say the least. And so, the Waterbaroness made a decree that all burial sites were the sole property of her excellency. I hear that there is an outpost north of town where they rove the plains.” “What’s so interesting about these mounds?” the Tinman asked. “Burial customs of the elk, usually find some wealth with them. But its mystery if this is some type of crass form of grave robbing or…something else.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “But the Waterbaroness has been a bit distracted lately, so getting her opinion is a bit challenging.” “Distracted by what?” I asked. “Oh, the Hate Night festivities.” And the tiefling took another drink. “That was the other question, what is this Hate Night? I’ve never heard of it.” The Knight interjected. The tiefling frowned a moment and then spoke, “It started maybe, four or five years ago. The Waterbaroness announced a celebration and gave a warning. A grand masked ball at the Waterbaroness’ keep, to which everyone copied. But the warning was to keep indoors the entire night. Effectively a curfew on the town…or else.” “Or else…what?” the Knight asked. “Well…that is the interesting part. Each Hate Night a fog rises in the town, and people who wander in it, lose their memory. It’s all very mysterious, and random. One year, it happened three times, another only once. Never the same day, and it can be announced any season.” I frowned to myself. I was wondering if it were a planar in nature, specifically to one place where I had heard that holding on to memories were a problem. The Feywild. A shadow of the prime that was a twisted mirror of its environs. But I had never heard of a town so close to a border of it. It sounded almost like a gate town in this regard. But on the Prime? Was it possible? “But somehow, the Waterbaroness knows exactly when it is and she always enjoys her captive audience in her domicile. In fact, it’s the only time that every guard is basically off duty; not that anyone can take advantage of it,” and Mordai drained his cup. We looked at each other, digesting what we just heard. I thought it was an interesting chant. The stuff about the Hate Night was interesting local history, if not terribly useful. But the idea of the robbing the graves of the Elk sounded wrong. And as I remembered, ‘Flint Rock’ was a cairn…so we might need to hurry. The Fingerpainter was more blunt about the whole scenario saying, “Well that is all very interesting, but we already have things to do and little time. So, taking on additional work is out of the questions!” The Knight flipped a jinx to Mordai and said, “Well thanks for the information.” Mordai looked vaguely insulted, but pocketed the coin and said, “Well, perhaps when you have finished your…obligations then. You can leave a message with the tapkeeper here, and it will get to me swiftly. Good day.” And he stood and sauntered off in the back of ‘The Lusty Bard.’ At that point that the Knight and I heard something in the background. Sounding like muffled shouting. Our eyes caught each other as we both tilted our heads at the same time confirming it wasn’t our imagination either. At that point, a door on the far side of the bar opened, and the shouting became clearer. It was a mixture of cheering, jeers and insults and what sounded to be a fight going on. The door closed, as a patron exited with some excitement and a smile on his face; perhaps the first honest smile I had seen in the taproom since we arrived. The Tinman reached out and tugged the sleeve of the smiling man and asked, “Hey, is that a fighting pit down over there?” The beaming patron nodded, “Yes it is,” and the patron looked at the Tinman up and down. “Heh, you’re large enough to be a contender. Thinking on trying your luck on the floor?” The Tinman stood up with a dreamy grin on his face and said: “Yes…yes I am.” [B]Session Notes[/B] first, sorry on being a bit late; gaming convention distraction. Also, again if you aren't familiar with Sigil cant, 'Darks' means 'secrets' This was part of our earliest sessions, and we were still feeling out the characters a bit, and we had an interesting mix of non-charismatic characters trying to be the face of the party. In fact, we were very tentative about who was leading the pack. From my perspective, I was 'tagging' along as I didn't really care about Flint Rock yet. And of course, still 1st level...which leads to some interesting things we will see soon. [/QUOTE]
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