Planescape/Star*Drive: Renaissance (Updated 15 December 2003)

[Viktyr Gehrig]

Ever since the Star*Drive Campaign Setting came out, I've been tossing around the idea of running a massive crossover campaign between Planescape and Star*Drive, as I find the similarities and differences between these two settings fascinating, and there are a lot of elements in the two settings that can interact with each other in incredible ways.

With the shelving of the Planescape Campaign Setting and the entire Alternity game, I'd placed this project on a back burner. The release of the d20 Modern Menace Manual, with three of the original Alternity species detailed, kick-started my drive to get this thing going.

I'm running Planescape using D&D 3.5, with the campaign starting roughly in the middle of the Faction War, and the PCs laying low on a backwater, primitive Prime world that had been the original home of two of the characters. They've been in the service of a local baron for a couple weeks, gouging him out of his treasury and abusing the other members of his court.

I'm running the Star*Drive campaign with d20 Modern, with a couple small rules alterations to fit the setting. The PCs are a crew of mercenaries and part-time pirates, operating out of a stolen prison transport spacebus stolen by the Captain-- who was at the time headed for the Penates colony against his will. Their contact, Fat Tony, has just contacted them with a paying job, telling them they need to get to Grith in the Corrivale system as quickly as possible.

I wrote a campaign teaser-trailer on RPG.net, which can be viewed here:
http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?s=&postid=1655125#post1655125

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

On a primitive, backwater Prime:

In a sparse audience chamber, an aging aristocrat holds court over a barony that is rapidly slipping through his fingers. As a last, desparate grasp to retain control, he has hired a crew of mercenaries that appeared through a portal in his wine cellar. For three weeks, they have filled their purses with his gold, their stomachs with his food, and his patience with their demands and their abuse of his realm.

After weeks of drilling his troops and rooting out spies in his court, he considers them to be worth their high price-- however, finally a large threat has arrived that he can use to get the mercenaries out of his court for awhile, and possibly permanently. A series of daring, well-organized goblin raids against his borders have threatened to destroy the town of Pike Falls, and he wishes our heroes to investigate.

The mercenaries' spokesperson, a frail human girl of no more than ten years old, negotiates with the Baron regarding their fee. She wears a simple, threadworn black dress, and her dark hair falls to her shoulders, mostly concealing her face.

Dagger: "This sounds more dangerous than scaring your troops. I want triple the pay for hazardous duty that we agreed upon."

The Baron's brow furrows. He knows it's hopeless, but he tries to protect his already faltering treasury. "That's ridiculous. We've set a price."

The girl smiled. "And our price is changing... unless you want to defend from all those horrible, horrible goblins all by yourself."

The Baron frowned. A tall, broad-shouldered man, pale and haggard-looking, turned to him. "You know it's hopeless, your Excellency. Give her what she wants so that we can get started."

Sighing, the Baron nodded and waved the mercenaries away. The pale man placed a hand on the little girl's shoulder and walked away, almost regal in his ceremonial armor. They were quickly joined by their other companions, a pair of Tieflings they had grown to trust.

Ortac, a finely-dressed swashbuckler, addressed the pale man. "So, what does his Excellency have for us today, Dagan? Terrifying the locals into paying their taxes? Strongarming his neighbors into aiding his defense?"

Dagan frowned. The nature of the work ill-suited him. Ortac, undaunted, continued cheerfully probing. "Or are we to spend another night drinking and dancing as a 'show of force' to his enemies, whoever they might be?"

Sighing, Dagan relented. "The Baron is having problems with goblins on his frontiers. He wants us to take care of them."

Ortac smiled. "So, are we starting today or tomorrow?"

Dagger giggled, and then answered. "Either way, we start getting paid today."

Dagan shook his head and kept walking, intent on completing the newest bit of sordid business as quickly as possible. The other Tiefling, a young woman brightly dressed in well-maintained leathers and fine silks, followed Dagan.

"I'm following the big guy."

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

Bluefall, in the Aegis system of the Verge:

In a dimly-lit, seedy bar, five people sit drinking, spending the last of their Concord dollars on watered-down drinks as they try to figure out how to make some money. With the increased Concord patrols in the Verge (helping to mediate inter-colony disputes that threatened to break out into brush wars), they had been unable to find a merchant vessel vulnerable enough to be taken-- especially in the beaten prison transport bus they were using as transportation. The money from ransoming the pilots (and some of the more important prisoners) was rapidly dwindling, and they needed to come up with something quickly.

Deakon Cross, the nominal captain of this ragtag operation, spotted a couple of gullible-looking men playing billiards in the corner-- loudly and drunkenly. A larcenous gleam shone in his eyes and he strode to the billiards tables. He slapped a couple of coins on the table and challenged, "Play you boys for the table."

The large man whose turn it was to shoot smirked unevenly at this newcomer-- a pretty boy in a fashionable polymer jacket worn over a pink t-shirt with the words "I (heart) TOXIC WASTE" stenciled in. "Heh. Feel free." He made his shot, sinking the eight-ball, and Deakon paid for the new game.

Deakon played a good game, but carefully controlled himself to let the other player win... He graciously conceded defeat as the larger man sunk his last, striped ball into the pocket and then took a simple shot at the eight ball. Deakon shook his head and ventured back to the other pool table.

Rex McCullough, a seasoned veteran of the Second Galactic War and hardened frontier colony ex-Sheriff, quickly picked up on Deakon's plan and, excusing himself to his drinking buddies, stood. He straightened his hat, an old brown duster, and walked in the direction of the pool tables, his frontier-styled CF longcoat trailing behind him.

Also trailing behind him was Zero, a fluid, graceful Aleerin in an expensive, well-tailored suit.

Rex walked up to Deakon's table, and, tossing two coins on the table, shot a glance back to Zero and winked. "Watch me show this boy how it's done." He racked the balls and Deakon broke them-- and within five minutes, Deakon finished the game, leaving most of Rex's balls still sitting on the table.

Deakon turned to look at the barflies again. "You up for another game? I'm not so rusty anymore." The larger man, remembering his easy victory, readily agreed. Deakon smiled, "Let's make this more interesting." Taking the last of his big bills, Deakon laid three hundred Concord dollars on the table. The large man nodded, and they set up the game.

Again, the larger, drunker man took an easy victory from Deakon, and moved to collect his money. Again, Deakon smiled. "How about double-or-nothing?" And, again, the larger man agreed. Deakon allowed himself to play a slightly better game, and won a close victory. However, when he went to collect his funds, he only found his original three bills.

"Hey! I thought you said you could cover this!" Deakon shouted angrily, pointing to half of his winnings. "Where's the rest?" The large man shrugged dumbly, and weakly offered, "But I put it on the table... you saw me put it on the table..."

Rex stepped up to the large, drunk man and put a finger in his chest. "Now, you bet the man, fair and square, and you lost, fair and square. You're gonna have to pay him the rest of his money." Meanwhile, Zero smiled to himself.

The drunk man shoved Rex, and demanded, "Yeah, and what if I don't wan--" Rex punched the man in the mouth and he collapsed into a blubbering heap on the floor. The drunk man's friends stopped for a second, and then threw themselves into the melee. One in the far corner grabbed a cue and advanced on Deakon, while another threw a sloppy, drunken punch at Rex, who easily ducked it.

Deakon deftly swiped a billiards ball from the table they had been playing at, and, backpedalling, heaved it at the cue-brandishing man. The ball connected solidly with the man's shoulder, and he staggered back. Rex wound up and threw another solid punch, this time at the man approaching him. Another solid hit, and the man had to lean against the pool table for support.

When he came back up, he had a knife in his hand, and he stuck it in Rex's side, just under his ribs.

Zero sprung into action, his freshly activated Fast Chip speeding his reflexes to superhuman levels. He cartwheeled over the table, picking up a cue along the way, and as he landed, he swung it upwards into the knife-wielder's groin. The man fell down, and before he could get up again, Zero whipped the pool cue savagely into the side of his head. The man went down again, this time for good.

Deakon grabbed another pair of pool balls from the table, and again whipped them at his attacker. A hit in the stomach, followed by a solid hit in the face, and that man, too, dropped. Deakon collected what was left of his winnings, and the three men quickly walked for the exit of the bar. The bartender was speaking rapidly into a comm unit, but a one-hundred Concord dollar bill made sure that the description he gave the police was nothing like the three men who left the bar.

As the three walked towards their aircar, Zero's subdermal comm gear picked up a transmission from Samuel, the Earth-raised T'sa who served as ship doctor, engineer, and science officer. "Fat Tony's got another job for us."

Music to a young pirate's ears.

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

Back on the Prime:

After a long day's ride from the Baron's capital, Dagger and the two Tieflings finally convinced the seemingly tireless Dagan to make camp for the night. Dagan had been leading the journey, keeping an admirable pace for the party on foot, as the horses refused to bear him. He helped the other two adults pitch tents and start a fire, and then, after Del agreed to take first watch with her animal companion-- a fine hawk-- he laid out his own bedroll and tried to sleep.

Dagan had closed his eyes for only a few minutes before the images poured forth, unbidden, into his mind.

Trying to keep something distracted, so that his friends can destroy the necromancer. A fleeting image across his eyes, and he follows it... and feels a cold, stabbing pain in his gut. He collapses, and everything fades.

A man in robes, a silver holy symbol around his neck, praying over him. Tears in his eyes, he pleads, "Why will the Bright One not answer his prayers? Has he forsaken me?" The robed man reaches across Dagan's face, and his vision fades again.

Men in ceremonial armor and sacred robes surround him. Some are crying. A man in plain, brown robes leans over him... "I'm sorry, Dagan. The Bright One has forsaken us both now."

And then they bury him alive...

Restless, Dagan crawled back out of his tent and relieved Del of the watch. Worried, she asked if he was alright. Dagan shrugged and said, "I've been worse." Del spared him another glance as she climbed into her own tent... but if something was troubling Dagan, nothing showed in his stoic posture. After a few minutes, her concerns faded as she drifted to sleep.

Six hours later, Dagan having regained his composure, he heard a snap and a rustling in the near woods, too large to have been a small animal. Suspicious, he sprang into the woods after it, figuring that, at worst, his friends would have meat at breakfast. Dagan's quarry let out a shrill, sudden cry of alarm and fled, but Dagan's boundless stamina allowed him to run the goblin into the ground and, after a brief tussle, bring it, still alive, back to camp-- where the party, alarmed by the noise, had awoken and prepared for battle.

A more cautious pursuer lurked behind them off the trail, waiting for a better opportunity to present himself. Luckily, they had not yet found him like they had the clumsy goblin scout.

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

In the skies of Bluefall, en route to Fat Tony's:

"Thisbetterbebetterthanthelastjob," Samuel chattered rapidly, his nervousness speeding up his already swift speech.

"Talk slower, lizardman." Samuel's rapid speech was amoung Deakon's strongest pet peeves

"I'mtrying! I'm trying!"

"It doesn't matter," Nails replied from behind her mask. "We need the money." She casually toyed with one of the many knives she kept in her jumpsuit. Under the mask, Nails had metallic golden skin, a by-product of Thuldan bioengineering. Whenever possible, she wore a pair of slender swords, several knives, and her gun in various hidden spaces on a charcoal grey jumpsuit-- better to be prepared than dead, her training had taught her.

The aircar glided smoothly to a stop next to a worn-down strip mall, and Nails, Deakon, and Samuel stepped out. They opened the chain-link gate stretched across the door of the Pawn Shop-- while officially closed for business, it was always open for "business", and Fat Tony had asked for them. They walked in confidently, knowing Tony would be happy to see them.

"Deakon, my man! My go-to guy... How the hell are ya?" Fat Tony lived up to the name, a solidly obese man of mostly Italian descent. He wore a dark blue suit, a white shirt, and a green tie with small red stains on it. To those he considered friends, he claimed to have come to Bluefall from Earth itself, but people in a position to know quietly claimed he escaped young from a Hatire colony and never looked back. The computer gauntlet on his sleeve suggested that, if this were the case, his break had been complete.

Deakon shook hands with Tony, and they took seats in his office-- a backroom in his busy pawn and import store. "Hear you've got a job for us."

Fat Tony smiled and nodded. "It's a doozy. Sesheyan extraction, arranged by a VC ex-patriate on Grith. Lucky for you, he's an ex-pat with connections."

Deakon groaned. "We couldn't afford charity work even if we wanted to, Tony. We need cash, and a lot of it." Tonight's stunt had given them enough funds to stay planetside for another week or so, but they needed money-- if this job turned up a bust, they'd have to live off of ship's supplies, and they'd have no way of replacing those.

Fat Tony chuckled. "No worries, Deakon. No worries. Get to Corrivale and find a Sesheyan who goes by Shadowsong. May not be a retirement gig, but it's good money."

Deakon quirked an eyebrow. "Shadowsong?"

Tony shrugged. "Hey, if you were actively opposing VoidCorp every day of your life, would you go by your real name?"

Deakon thought for a second, and then nodded. "We'll do it."

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

On the road to Pike Falls:

The mercenaries sat around the campfire, staring expectantly at Dagan's prisoner. Dagan himself sat next to the goblin, his hand resting heavily on the back of the goblin's neck.

Dagger leaned in towards the goblin conspiratorily and whispered, "Do you speak Common?"

The goblin shook his head unconvincingly. Dagger glanced pointedly at Dagan, who tightened his grip on the goblin's neck. Dagger smiled sweetly. "Would you like to answer that again?"

Pained, the goblin nodded. "Speak Common good."

Dagger nodded, still smiling. "Are you lost?"

The goblin paused, and then, hesitantly answered. "Yes?"

Dagger shook her head. From the other side of the campfire, Ortac cheerily opined, "Hmm. I think he's lying, Boss."

Still shaking her head, Dagger put her little hand on the goblin's knee and looked him in the eye. Gently, she whispered, "If you don't tell my friends the truth, I'm going to have to interrogate you."

The goblin's eyes widened. "Interrogate? What's that?"

Dagger smiled again, and a terrible light shone behind her eyes. Without losing any of the innocence in her voice, she explained, "Interrogation is where I do bad things to you until you tell us the truth."

Gulping, the goblin quickly agreed to answer all their questions-- and to lead them to his camp. A short walk later, the mercenaries are short distance from the camp, looking in. A lone sentry sits next to the campfire, slowly roasting something inside what looks like a riding boot. A dozen or so crude tents stood hapazardly around the fire, with one larger tent standing out.

Dagger smiled at the goblin. "Are you happy to be home?"

Hesitantly, the goblin nodded-- then winced as Dagger's knife slid under his ribs and into his lung. He wheezed a couple of times and then collapsed.

Dagger closed the goblin's eyes and stroked his cheek. "I'm glad. Thank you."

Dagan shook his head. "How are we going to get in there without alerting the camp?"

Ortac smirked. "I've got this one." He pulled one of his adamantine sling bullets from his pouch and readied his sling. After a couple of quick twists to get up to speed, he loosed the bullet at the sentry, striking him directly in the forehead. The goblin fell over backwards and lay still.

Ortac walked directly to the sentry and retrieved his bullet, then checked on the goblin's cooking. He smiled as he discovered a nearly-done kitten, which he offered to share with Dagan. Dagan eagerly accepted a piece; it felt like he hadn't eaten in days, and the meatless trail rations they carried never satisfied him.

Dagger pulled on Dagan's belt. "We should go talk to their leader."

Dagger and Dagan snuck into the chief's tent easily, the goblins' drunken snoring covering what little noise they made as they walked. Dagan casually slide one of his punching daggers from his wrist sheath as they stepped over several drunken goblin women to get closer to the chief.

With one hand covering his mouth, and the other holding a punch dagger to his eye, Dagan woke the goblin subchieftain. The goblin struggled for a moment, until Dagan tightened his grip on the goblin's face and dug the tip of the dagger into the skin of his face. In a tight whisper, Dagan demanded, "Are you going to behave now?"

The goblin nodded.

"Do not scream." Dagan lifted his hand off the goblin's mouth, but kept it close in case the goblin turned out to be terminally stupid. Then, awkwardly, Dagan asked, "We want to... uh... know where the rest of your... people are..."

Dagger whispered to Dagan, "Ask him where his boss is."

The subchieftain gulped and made vague noises about a temple in the mountains near Pike Falls.

Dagan nodded. "We're leaving. If you make so much as a sound before the sun rises, I'll come back and kill you." He leaned in menacingly towards the subchieftain's face and dug the tip of the punch dagger into his cheek. "Very slowly." Terrified, the goblin nodded.

Dagger and Dagan snuck out of the chief's tent as easily as they had snuck in.

Ortac looked up from his half-eaten kitten. "So, what now?"

Dagger shrugged. "My plan was to kill them all."

Dagan shook his head again; he always found Dagger's bloodlust a little disturbing. "We can use them later."

Dagger frowned and shot him a piercing look. "I don't like using stupid things." While Ortac and Dagan finished their discussion about how to handle the rest of the goblins, Dagger walked over to the goblin sentry and searched him. In his belt pouch, she found two silver pieces and another half-starved, terrified kitten.

Dagger smiled. "Kitty!" Calming the kitten down, she placed it on her shoulder, where it's all-white fur stood in sharp contrast to her black hair and black dress. Starving, the kitten mewed plaintively; Dagger cut small pieces from Ortac's unfinished meal and fed them to her new pet on the tip of her knife.

Dagan and Ortac were still arguing over how to handle the goblins, when finally, Dagan conceded, "Look, your plan might work. If you want to kill them, I won't stop you-- I just don't like killing helpless things."

Dagger perked up. "I don't have a problem killing anything. Besides, my kitty's still hungry." With Del unwilling to take sides, Ortac and Dagger outweighed Dagan's reservations, and they quickly decided that quietly killing the rest of the goblins was the prudent course-- it was, after all, what they were hired to do.

Dagger pulled on Dagan's belt again. "Will you hold my kitty?"

Dagan grumbled and took hold of the kitten. "If I must."

Dagger frowned. "Hold kitty nicely."

Dagan sighed.

Then, for the next hour, Dagger and Ortac efficiently slaughtered the rest of the goblin scouting party in their sleep-- except for the subchieftain and his women. Dagger felt that they should be left alone, since he had been so quiet and well-behaved since she and Dagan had left his tent.

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

In orbit around Grith, in the Corrivale system:

"... you're sure you can't tweak his genome to make him less fruity?" Rex asked Samuel for at least the hundredth time since this crew had assembled. Deakon's city-slicker behavior, flamboyant clothes, and inability to take-- or throw-- a decent punch annoyed him.

Samuel started to answer when Deakon's voice rang out from the cockpit. "Hey! I heard that, guys."

After getting clearance from Space Traffic Control, Deakon landed the ship at Diamond Point. The crew slid quickly through Customs, answering the usual questions about communicable diseases, fresh fruit, and taxable imports. With the influence of the Aanghel crime syndicate, noone questioned how well armed the members of the crew were-- and after a standard warning about not starting any trouble, they were allowed on their way.

Rex punched Zero in the shoulder. "I think he meant you there, killer."

Zero looked back at him, his mostly cybernetic face expressionless. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-hearted smirk.

Deakon shook his head. "Let's find this Shadowsong guy and get this over with."

Keeping in touch by radio, the crew split up-- Rex and Zero to the Sesheyan parts of town, Deakon, Nails, and Samuel to the Hatire.

After Rex and Zero's third dive bar, full of human and sesheyan pirates, smugglers, and other criminals, someone had decided that the two offworlders were asking too many questions about the wrong people. As they walked out, a black skycar drifted into a parking place right in front of them, and a large man in a leather jacket stepped out, holding a baseball bat.

"You two sure are nosy. Somebody oughtta teach ya to mind--" Before he could finish his sentence, two small holes appeared in his chest; as quickly as he had thought about it, Zero had drawn one of his pistols and fired.

The skycar's driver fired the ignition switch again, trying to escape. "Holy--" And, just as fast, Zero's other pistol appeared in his hand and fired. The driver slumped over the controls of the skycar, which had just started and was now idling.

Rex was furious. "What the hell, Zero!? We're on a half-mafia, half-backwater planet and you just start killing people?" He started slapping the side of his head for emphasis. "****ing reprogram, man!"

Zero shrugged. "I didn't feel like being taught to mind my own business today." He rifled through the enforcer's pockets until he found the dead man's comm. "Here. We should be able to find Shadowsong with this. Or, at least, someone who knows where he is."

In the meantime, by way of more discreet inquiries, Deakon had already located their prospective employer, and had been sitting and drinking with him for a couple hours.

 

[(Psi)SeveredHead]

Star*Drive? Post more. More! Seriously, this is cool stuff. I wonder how long Zero will go before suffering from cykosis?

PS you can keep this on the front page by posting character stats. *Ahem*

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

Star*Drive? Post more. More! Seriously, this is cool stuff. I wonder how long Zero will go before suffering from cykosis?

PS you can keep this on the front page by posting character stats. *Ahem*

Saturday night is Game Night. There should be an update in fifteen or sixteen hours-- I'm keeping the game ahead of the Story Hour by a couple of sessions in order to make up for missed sessions and boneheaded mistakes on my part. I mangled my presentation of Grith when we first played out the meeting with Shadowsong, and have had to make corrections.

Character stats will have to wait. There are a few surprises in there, and not all of the characters have been featured yet.

 

[Viktyr Gehrig]

At the gates of Pike Falls:

After finishing a good night's rest, our intrepid heroes walked the rest of the road to Pike Falls, arriving slightly after noon. Due to the recent military emergency, the town militia had been called into active duty, and two of the local warriors were dutifully standing guard, halberds at the ready.

One of the guards spotted the party and called out. "Halt and state your business!" The two guards crossed their halberds and blocked the town's gates.

Dagan stepped forward with the Baron's letter of authority and presented it to the guard. "We are here on the Baron's business. Stand aside and let us pass."

The guard examined the papers skeptically, suspicious of the strange travellers, in particular the planetouched and the small child. "You're the Baron's men?"

Ortac grinned mischievously at the guards. "Yes! We're here for your women!" he announced, and then gave a slight bow. Dagan shook his head and shushed the tiefling, trying to handle the guards professionally.

The second guard chimed in, "I've heard of you people." He showed no signs of relaxing his guard or standing aside.

Impatiently, Dagger looked up at the guards. For a brief moment, her eyes flashed malevolently, but just as quickly, she resumed her innocent appearance. "You better let us in, mister. Kitty's hungry." She stared the first guard in the face steadily, until he and his partner backed down and allowed the party passage.

As the others walked into town to arrange their accomodations and question the townsfolk, Dagan and Dagger stayed behind with the guards, in order to find out what they knew.

Dagan started first, since the guards were more likely to take him seriously. "So, guys... where are these goblins coming from? The Baron's only told us that they were attacking here from outside his territory. Paint me a picture."

The guard relaxed, switching from suspicion to shoptalk readily. "Most of them seem to be coming out of the west, towards the mountains. We get smaller groups out of the southwest, in the badlands and the marshes. We think they're under the banner of someone powerful, though-- not like a goblin chief. They're too well-organized to be on their own."

Dagan nodded, and then Dagger asked her question. "Is there anything strange going on in town? Something other than the goblins?" Something in her twisted intuition told her that someone in town was connected somehow to the goblins, and she wanted to investigate this before anything else.

The guard leaned down to talk to her. "You should stay away from Old Man Wilson, miss. He's a creepy old hermit, and we try to keep all the children away from him. Some of us think he's a powerful warlock." The quaint term for arcanist amused Dagger, and she barely suppressed a giggle.

"Oh? Where does Old Man Wilson live?" The guard hesitated for a moment, and Dagger pressed. "Tell me... tell me now." Dagger pushed the guard's mind, and he relented; he pointed to a shack slightly outside the rest of the locals' homes.

Giggling, Dagger suddenly broke off into a run towards Old Man Wilson's shack. After a second, the guard called after her, "Miss! Miss... I said to stay away from Old Man Wilson... he's dang--"

Dagger turned around, still giggling. "I heard what you said." Then, she was off again.

Swearing under his breath, Dagan took off after her. She was already halfway to the shack and had a good head start. Standing on the old man's doorstep, she turned and asked Dagan, "Are you coming with me or coming after me, Dagan?"

Dagan shook his head. "We rest first, old man later."

Dagger shook her head in turn. "Old man now. I'm not tired."

Dagan stood firm. "It's naptime, Dagger." He reached for her arm to lead her back into town, where the others were waiting for them.

Dagger took a step back, out of his reach. "Then take a nap, Dagan. You didn't sleep very well at all last night, did you?" She fixed him with a piercing stare, which he merely returned. "This will only take a minute. Then we'll take a nap with the others."

Dagan shook his head; he already knew he'd lost. Again.

Dagger knocked on Old Man Wilson's front door politely. She heard someone inside moving, but noone answered. After a few seconds, she knocked again and called "I know you're in there, Mister Wilson. You're being very rude." She paused a second to stroke the kitten on her shoulder. When Old Man Wilson still refused to open his door, Dagger pushed the door open herself and walked in. Dagan stayed behind, in the doorway.

"You should've answered your door, Mister Wilson. It's not nice to keep your guests waiting. And my kitty's hungry." Old Man Wilson looked up at her from his cooking, a look of surprise and irritation on his face. He quickly faked a look of bemused helplessness and turned back to the stove. Something was very wrong with this man, and both Dagan and Dagger could feel it. Curiosity (and paranoia) piqued, Dagger determined to investigate.

"Oh, you and your friend are just in time for supper, dearie. I made sausage and mash." The old man took a black iron pot out of his oven. "Enough for all of us." He smiled, and shivers ran down Dagger's spine. Dagan was merely suspicious, and stood stoicly in the doorway. "Have a seat, have a seat. Supper will be on the table in a minute." He scooped out three platefuls of mashed potatoes and placed several pieces of sausage on each. Dagger and Dagan both hesitated a moment, but then took seats.

Suddenly, Dagger felt an insistent nuzzling at her ear, and then a soft, desparate whisper. "He's a bad evil man, Dagger. Kill him." Dagger looked puzzled, and then turned to look at her kitten. "Kill him now, Dagger. Kill him and run away while you still can." Meanwhile, Dagan and Old Man Wilson sat across from each other, both poking at their dinners, waiting for the other to take the first bite.

Dagan decided that the old man had no way of knowing they were coming, so figured that the food must be safe. He stirred glumly at his potatoes for a moment with his fork, and then picked up a piece of sausage. It was overcooked, but at least it was meat. He took another couple of bites.

"Eat up, eat up," the old man urged. "No sense letting good food get cold." Dagger tried to feed the kitten a piece of sausage on the end of her knife, but the kitten refused. Shrugging, Dagger then took a bite herself. Satisfied it wasn't poisoned, she began to eat a little of the potatoes.

"The guards say you're a bad man, Mister Wilson. Why do they say that?" Dagger smiled sweetly at the old man, while her kitten pleaded with her to stab him in his guts and go find the others. Dagger silently willed the kitten to stop, but the pleas grew more and more urgent. "KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!" Dagger twitched and then smiled again.

"Oh, you know how peasants are. Stupid creatures, really. Subsist on rumours and lies." Old Man Wilson cheerily consumed his sausage and mash, which as the dinner went on, seemed more and more sinister. "They fear what they don't understand, and hate what they fear." He smiled.

Dagger frowned. "My kitty doesn't like you, either, Mister Wilson." She lunged across the table at him with her knife, but the table was too large. He jumped up from the table and lunged into the shack's back room, slamming the door behind him. Dagan stared at her in shock a moment while she charged after the old man, throwing the door open.

The back room was empty, despite there being no other exits. Old Man Wilson had vanished.