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Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Everett said:
I do appreciate the sentiment, and I have considered it, but it's just not possible. For one thing, with kids and work and chores and wanting to actually spend some time with my wife, I am left with something like 2-3 hours a night (and not every night) that gets divvied up among many hobbies. I simply don't have the time. For another thing, teasing out all of the WotC-owned stuff would be a nightmare. For a third thing, I'm not convinced that a D&D campaign, however compelling, would translate well into a novel. Now, there's probably a good book to be written that's based on my campaign, but that would only add to the enormity of the undertaking.
In short, when someone sends me a check in advance for about 2 million dollars, thus allowing me to retire and freeing up 40-50 hours a week of my time, I promise to get writing immediately!
-Sagiro
Collected Story Hour update
Lovely to see frequent updates again, Sagiro. I can't wait to see what Turlissa has in store for poor Dranko...
In celebration, I've added a new chapter to the Collected Story Hour page, bringing the story up to part-way through the latest update. Part Two of The Adventures of Abernathy's Company now has a total of exactly (ye gods...) 400 pages. Enjoy!
Lovely to see frequent updates again, Sagiro. I can't wait to see what Turlissa has in store for poor Dranko...
In celebration, I've added a new chapter to the Collected Story Hour page, bringing the story up to part-way through the latest update. Part Two of The Adventures of Abernathy's Company now has a total of exactly (ye gods...) 400 pages. Enjoy!
darkhall-nestor
Explorer
Everett said:
I agree
I have suggested it before and will again .
he is a much better writer than many of the so called professionals out there
as an alternative maybe Sagrio and piratecat could co author a novel and share the work load
not that they couldn't do a great job on their own
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
StevenAC, thank you so much for continuing your excellent series of PDF's. I still use them regularly when planning my ongoing runs. Speaking of which...
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 278
It's Hard to Explain
Dranko’s visit to his own temple is much less momentous; most of the clergy there never even knew he had been away. He spends a pleasant afternoon with Harmon but learns nothing new about changes to his history.
Kibi casts prying eyes to track Turlissa when she leaves her bakery that evening. Their combined report is brief: she left the shop, bought some produce at a stand in the marketplace, and went into a small tailor’s shop. When one of the eyes followed her in, it didn’t see her anywhere inside. She did not emerge for the duration of the spell.
That evening, at the Company’s invitation, Spence comes over for dinner. Spence is their liaison among the town guard, the replacement for the late and lamented Marbury Tillerson who died in the Battle of Verdshane. He’s a nice enough fellow, even if he’s never quite settled into the comfortable relationship that Marbury enjoyed.
Tonight doesn’t help. The Company invites him in for dinner, and after a minimum of pleasantries Dranko gets right to the point.
“So,” he says, trying to be casual. “What do you know about the thieves’ guild?”
Spence freezes for a second, reminding himself that these folks are Adventurers who by nature will ask awkward questions. He finishes a bite of Ernie’s delightful stew before answering.
“You mean the Undermen, sir? They... they both run and restrict crime in the city. They have a certain latitude – kind of like you do. There are certain of their operations we don’t interfere with. They’re somewhat self-policing. We still often investigate them, to keep things honest. And I have no personal connection with them, yourself and Flicker excepted.”
“Take a step back,” says Dranko. “In what way are Flicker and I involved in the Undermen?”
“I don’t know the full extent, sir,” answers Spence.
“Tell you what,” prompts Dranko. “Give me the rumors.”
Spence starts to sweat just a little. “I don’t know that I should be talking about this, sir.”
“Oh, sure you should,” says Dranko, smiling.
“All right,” says Spence. “It is suspected, at least, that the two of you are members of fine standing in the Undermen. There were rumors that you were involved in some sort of...altercation of succession, some time back?”
Spence phrases this last comment deliberately as a question, as if he fears to assert something dangerous. He cannot hide his nerves.
“You mean to say that the someone who once was the leader of the Undermen no longer is, and now I am?” asks Dranko, a bit eagerly.
“I can’t speak to rumors that you are thought to be leading the Undermen,” says Spence stiffly. “I doubt that’s the case. But you may have had a hand in the... change of positions involved. Now, these are all entirely unfounded rumors, of course.”
“Of course!” Dranko agrees. “And I’m sure there are rumors, unconnected to the truth, of the name associated with the leader of the Undermen.”
“I really wouldn’t know, sir,” says Spence weakly. “I’m just a rank-and-file member of the town guard, and not privy to details like that. I only hear the same rumors as everyone else. I’ve already told you everything I know. Well, there’s this: the only name I’ve ever heard in conjunction with the upper ranks of the Undermen is ‘The Slipper.’
Morningstar decides it’s a good time to cast a silent, still detect thoughts, and it appears Spence is telling the unvarnished truth. Dranko continues to press him for details, but all this does is add to the guard’s discomfiture without revealing any new details.
“He’s never coming to diner again,” mutters Kibi under his breath. And indeed, Spence can’t leave fast enough, not even staying for dessert. But as it happens Dranko doesn’t need to wait long for some real answers. Not ten minutes after Spence’s hasty departure there is a knock on the door. It appears that the stranger Eddings spoke of has returned – a tall and handsome man stands in the street, hair and goatee neatly combed, sharply dressed in a gray and black.
He looks at Dranko, then peeks in the door at everyone else. Yoba shakes her head: not evil.
“Come on in,” says Dranko.
The man steps into the Greenhouse.
“We need to talk,” says the man to Dranko. “In private, I should think.”
Morningstar touches Dranko on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you first?”
“Hello Morningstar,” says the man with a smile.
“Hey, we got married, you know?” says Dranko.
“You did?” asks the man, and his smile gets bigger. “Well, it’s about time. Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” says Morningstar demurely.
Yoba introduces herself while Dranko and Morningstar have a brief meeting in the kitchen, during which Morningstar casts a quick and silent Rary’s telepathic bond.
The gentleman solemnly shakes Yoba’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Lucas.” Turning to the rest of the Company, he nods politely and says, “It is nice to see all of you again. You’ve been missed.”
When Dranko comes back, Lucas says, “Now. Should we go talk in the... private room?”
What now? The secret room? This guy Lucas knows about the secret room in the Greenhouse?! Dranko is mortified; he waves generally for Lucas to go first, and the man does in fact head right up the stairs toward the secret door behind the bookcase.
“I guess I trust the guy,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link. The rest of the party can’t believe it.
At least, when Lucas reaches the door, he politely turns his back so that he can’t see exactly what Dranko does to open it. Once inside they sit in chairs, and Dranko says, “Talk to me, Lucas.”
Lucas stares holes into him before answering. “I thought we had come to an understanding, Dranko. When you go off on one of your excursions, you have to let me know. It’s very difficult to explain your absence when I don’t know where you are!”
“I didn’t know where I was either,” says Dranko. “And my absence was neither anticipated nor preventable.”
“You know the rumors, don’t you?” asks Lucas.
“That I was dead?” answers Dranko.
“That, or worse.”
“What’s worse than dead?”
“Well,” says Lucas slowly. “I know this will sound silly, but some of the rumors indicated that you weren’t just dead, but had never existed at all.”
“Ah. Yes,” says Dranko knowingly. “Yeah, that’s been going around. But, hey, tell me about Turlissa!”
“What about her?” says Lucas. “I’ll say this: she doesn’t believe that you’re you. And her instincts are good; I’d believe her, if you weren’t here in the Greenhouse. And from her story, I don’t blame her.”
Dranko lets out a long breath, considering for a moment what direction this conversation should take. “Ok, look. It appears that we’ve been gone for seven weeks. In fact, it’s been more like eight months. Alright?”
“I’m listening,” says Lucas.
“I don’t know who you are,” says Dranko.
Lucas stares for a moment, thinking he’s missing the joke. “Dranko, please. Of course you know who I am.”
“Not only do I not know who you are, but when I left, I wasn’t involved with the Undermen at all.”
When Lucas looks at him like he’s gone mad, Dranko lets out another breath. “Look, you’re familiar with the Battle of Verdshane, right?
Lucas nods. “Of course I am. You dropped all Guild business to go fight in it.”
“Except that I didn’t, because I wasn’t involved in the Guild,” says Dranko.
“You don’t remember, perhaps, but you were involved, I can assure you,” says Lucas. This conversation is, at the very least, proving that Turlissa wasn’t exaggerating.
“Ok, fair enough,” says Dranko. “So here’s what happened: There were three plots to destroy Charagan and put the old evil Emperor in power. We stopped two. The third worked. The Emperor managed to change things, change time, so that he was in charge. We managed to change things back to the way they were before, but not exactly. So, I got back from that little jaunt, and I discover that I’ve been involved with the Undermen, and I’ve got you as a friend.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Involved in? That’s what you call it?”
“Well, am I in charge of the Undermen?” asks Dranko.
Lucas sighs. “You... you’re testing me, aren’t you. That’s what this is.”
“When I left, Turlissa was named ‘Turlus’ and was a pudgy, middle-aged man,” says Dranko.
Lucas leans forward, becoming just as annoyed as had Turlissa. “What is the point of all this, Dranko? Please. This is bizarre even by your usual standards.”
“The point is this: I’m not testing you, and I’m not lying. Would this be easier if I just said I was hit in the head and don’t remember anything?”
“You don’t remember... but... how far back does your memory loss go?” asks Lucas.
“My memory is fine except for certain things: specifically, everything to do with the Undermen and my involvement with them.”
Lucas shakes his head. “Oh, for the love of the Gods...”
“I can pick stuff up on the fly, but anything you can do to help would be wonderful.”
Several times, Lucas opens his mouth as if to speak, but can’t quite figure out what to say. He mulls the possibilities. This could be an imposter, but someone capable of that level of deception -- and capable of getting into the Greenhouse – would have come up with a better ruse. Dranko could be insane. He could really have lost his memories of the Undermen, perhaps at the hands of an enemy? Dranko has antagonized plenty of people, goodness knows, during his strange extracurricular adventures. Or, maybe this really is a test. A bizarre, annoying and stupid test, of someone whose loyalty should be beyond any question...
“Dranko, whether you remember it or not, we’ve known each other a long time.”
“Ok,” says Dranko. “When did we first meet?”
Lucas thinks for a second. “We first met about three weeks before the Slipper tried to have you killed.”
“I was attacked by evil footwear?”
Lucas thinks to himself: no imposter could be this good.
“Not a slipper. The Slipper. The assassin, the Slipper. The one who... you really don’t remember this? Can’t we take to you a temple and get your memory fixed?”
“Nope. Not possible. So. When did the Slipper try to have me killed, and why?”
“That was about two years ago. I’ll assume this is a test for the moment; it will make me feel better.”
“Fine,” says Dranko.
“Do you remember the name ‘The Oracle?’” asks Lucas.
“Yes! That was me!”
“Good, good!” exclaims Lucas. “You remember something after all! Excellent.”
When Dranko simply looks at him expectantly, Lucas frowns and continues. “Some years ago – and I don’t quite understand how this got started – you and your friends downstairs operated as a kind of adjunct strike team to the Guild. The old leader knew he could count on you. But then the Slipper...”
Dranko interrupts him with a derisive snort.
“You weren’t laughing at the time,” says Lucas seriously. “You barely survived! The Slipper was the leader of the Undermen, and a formidable assassin. Unlike his predecessor, he didn’t approve of you – The Oracle – and your friends having the power and privileges that you did. He tried to have you killed. It was a mess – a mess that resulted in the Slipper being dead, as well as the man most likely to have succeeded him. There was a power vacuum.”
“Tell me I stepped in!”
“You stepped in.”
“Good for me!”
“Yes, it was. And you’ve been running the Undermen for the two years since then.”
Over the mind link comes Morningstar’s distressed thoughts: “No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
She turns to the rest of the party (to whom she is relaying Dranko’s conversation), a look on her face even more aggrieved than usual.
“I’m married to the mob.”
...to be continued...
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 278
It's Hard to Explain
Dranko’s visit to his own temple is much less momentous; most of the clergy there never even knew he had been away. He spends a pleasant afternoon with Harmon but learns nothing new about changes to his history.
Kibi casts prying eyes to track Turlissa when she leaves her bakery that evening. Their combined report is brief: she left the shop, bought some produce at a stand in the marketplace, and went into a small tailor’s shop. When one of the eyes followed her in, it didn’t see her anywhere inside. She did not emerge for the duration of the spell.
That evening, at the Company’s invitation, Spence comes over for dinner. Spence is their liaison among the town guard, the replacement for the late and lamented Marbury Tillerson who died in the Battle of Verdshane. He’s a nice enough fellow, even if he’s never quite settled into the comfortable relationship that Marbury enjoyed.
Tonight doesn’t help. The Company invites him in for dinner, and after a minimum of pleasantries Dranko gets right to the point.
“So,” he says, trying to be casual. “What do you know about the thieves’ guild?”
Spence freezes for a second, reminding himself that these folks are Adventurers who by nature will ask awkward questions. He finishes a bite of Ernie’s delightful stew before answering.
“You mean the Undermen, sir? They... they both run and restrict crime in the city. They have a certain latitude – kind of like you do. There are certain of their operations we don’t interfere with. They’re somewhat self-policing. We still often investigate them, to keep things honest. And I have no personal connection with them, yourself and Flicker excepted.”
“Take a step back,” says Dranko. “In what way are Flicker and I involved in the Undermen?”
“I don’t know the full extent, sir,” answers Spence.
“Tell you what,” prompts Dranko. “Give me the rumors.”
Spence starts to sweat just a little. “I don’t know that I should be talking about this, sir.”
“Oh, sure you should,” says Dranko, smiling.
“All right,” says Spence. “It is suspected, at least, that the two of you are members of fine standing in the Undermen. There were rumors that you were involved in some sort of...altercation of succession, some time back?”
Spence phrases this last comment deliberately as a question, as if he fears to assert something dangerous. He cannot hide his nerves.
“You mean to say that the someone who once was the leader of the Undermen no longer is, and now I am?” asks Dranko, a bit eagerly.
“I can’t speak to rumors that you are thought to be leading the Undermen,” says Spence stiffly. “I doubt that’s the case. But you may have had a hand in the... change of positions involved. Now, these are all entirely unfounded rumors, of course.”
“Of course!” Dranko agrees. “And I’m sure there are rumors, unconnected to the truth, of the name associated with the leader of the Undermen.”
“I really wouldn’t know, sir,” says Spence weakly. “I’m just a rank-and-file member of the town guard, and not privy to details like that. I only hear the same rumors as everyone else. I’ve already told you everything I know. Well, there’s this: the only name I’ve ever heard in conjunction with the upper ranks of the Undermen is ‘The Slipper.’
Morningstar decides it’s a good time to cast a silent, still detect thoughts, and it appears Spence is telling the unvarnished truth. Dranko continues to press him for details, but all this does is add to the guard’s discomfiture without revealing any new details.
“He’s never coming to diner again,” mutters Kibi under his breath. And indeed, Spence can’t leave fast enough, not even staying for dessert. But as it happens Dranko doesn’t need to wait long for some real answers. Not ten minutes after Spence’s hasty departure there is a knock on the door. It appears that the stranger Eddings spoke of has returned – a tall and handsome man stands in the street, hair and goatee neatly combed, sharply dressed in a gray and black.
He looks at Dranko, then peeks in the door at everyone else. Yoba shakes her head: not evil.
“Come on in,” says Dranko.
The man steps into the Greenhouse.
“We need to talk,” says the man to Dranko. “In private, I should think.”
Morningstar touches Dranko on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you first?”
“Hello Morningstar,” says the man with a smile.
“Hey, we got married, you know?” says Dranko.
“You did?” asks the man, and his smile gets bigger. “Well, it’s about time. Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” says Morningstar demurely.
Yoba introduces herself while Dranko and Morningstar have a brief meeting in the kitchen, during which Morningstar casts a quick and silent Rary’s telepathic bond.
The gentleman solemnly shakes Yoba’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Lucas.” Turning to the rest of the Company, he nods politely and says, “It is nice to see all of you again. You’ve been missed.”
When Dranko comes back, Lucas says, “Now. Should we go talk in the... private room?”
What now? The secret room? This guy Lucas knows about the secret room in the Greenhouse?! Dranko is mortified; he waves generally for Lucas to go first, and the man does in fact head right up the stairs toward the secret door behind the bookcase.
“I guess I trust the guy,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link. The rest of the party can’t believe it.
At least, when Lucas reaches the door, he politely turns his back so that he can’t see exactly what Dranko does to open it. Once inside they sit in chairs, and Dranko says, “Talk to me, Lucas.”
Lucas stares holes into him before answering. “I thought we had come to an understanding, Dranko. When you go off on one of your excursions, you have to let me know. It’s very difficult to explain your absence when I don’t know where you are!”
“I didn’t know where I was either,” says Dranko. “And my absence was neither anticipated nor preventable.”
“You know the rumors, don’t you?” asks Lucas.
“That I was dead?” answers Dranko.
“That, or worse.”
“What’s worse than dead?”
“Well,” says Lucas slowly. “I know this will sound silly, but some of the rumors indicated that you weren’t just dead, but had never existed at all.”
“Ah. Yes,” says Dranko knowingly. “Yeah, that’s been going around. But, hey, tell me about Turlissa!”
“What about her?” says Lucas. “I’ll say this: she doesn’t believe that you’re you. And her instincts are good; I’d believe her, if you weren’t here in the Greenhouse. And from her story, I don’t blame her.”
Dranko lets out a long breath, considering for a moment what direction this conversation should take. “Ok, look. It appears that we’ve been gone for seven weeks. In fact, it’s been more like eight months. Alright?”
“I’m listening,” says Lucas.
“I don’t know who you are,” says Dranko.
Lucas stares for a moment, thinking he’s missing the joke. “Dranko, please. Of course you know who I am.”
“Not only do I not know who you are, but when I left, I wasn’t involved with the Undermen at all.”
When Lucas looks at him like he’s gone mad, Dranko lets out another breath. “Look, you’re familiar with the Battle of Verdshane, right?
Lucas nods. “Of course I am. You dropped all Guild business to go fight in it.”
“Except that I didn’t, because I wasn’t involved in the Guild,” says Dranko.
“You don’t remember, perhaps, but you were involved, I can assure you,” says Lucas. This conversation is, at the very least, proving that Turlissa wasn’t exaggerating.
“Ok, fair enough,” says Dranko. “So here’s what happened: There were three plots to destroy Charagan and put the old evil Emperor in power. We stopped two. The third worked. The Emperor managed to change things, change time, so that he was in charge. We managed to change things back to the way they were before, but not exactly. So, I got back from that little jaunt, and I discover that I’ve been involved with the Undermen, and I’ve got you as a friend.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Involved in? That’s what you call it?”
“Well, am I in charge of the Undermen?” asks Dranko.
Lucas sighs. “You... you’re testing me, aren’t you. That’s what this is.”
“When I left, Turlissa was named ‘Turlus’ and was a pudgy, middle-aged man,” says Dranko.
Lucas leans forward, becoming just as annoyed as had Turlissa. “What is the point of all this, Dranko? Please. This is bizarre even by your usual standards.”
“The point is this: I’m not testing you, and I’m not lying. Would this be easier if I just said I was hit in the head and don’t remember anything?”
“You don’t remember... but... how far back does your memory loss go?” asks Lucas.
“My memory is fine except for certain things: specifically, everything to do with the Undermen and my involvement with them.”
Lucas shakes his head. “Oh, for the love of the Gods...”
“I can pick stuff up on the fly, but anything you can do to help would be wonderful.”
Several times, Lucas opens his mouth as if to speak, but can’t quite figure out what to say. He mulls the possibilities. This could be an imposter, but someone capable of that level of deception -- and capable of getting into the Greenhouse – would have come up with a better ruse. Dranko could be insane. He could really have lost his memories of the Undermen, perhaps at the hands of an enemy? Dranko has antagonized plenty of people, goodness knows, during his strange extracurricular adventures. Or, maybe this really is a test. A bizarre, annoying and stupid test, of someone whose loyalty should be beyond any question...
“Dranko, whether you remember it or not, we’ve known each other a long time.”
“Ok,” says Dranko. “When did we first meet?”
Lucas thinks for a second. “We first met about three weeks before the Slipper tried to have you killed.”
“I was attacked by evil footwear?”
Lucas thinks to himself: no imposter could be this good.
“Not a slipper. The Slipper. The assassin, the Slipper. The one who... you really don’t remember this? Can’t we take to you a temple and get your memory fixed?”
“Nope. Not possible. So. When did the Slipper try to have me killed, and why?”
“That was about two years ago. I’ll assume this is a test for the moment; it will make me feel better.”
“Fine,” says Dranko.
“Do you remember the name ‘The Oracle?’” asks Lucas.
“Yes! That was me!”
“Good, good!” exclaims Lucas. “You remember something after all! Excellent.”
When Dranko simply looks at him expectantly, Lucas frowns and continues. “Some years ago – and I don’t quite understand how this got started – you and your friends downstairs operated as a kind of adjunct strike team to the Guild. The old leader knew he could count on you. But then the Slipper...”
Dranko interrupts him with a derisive snort.
“You weren’t laughing at the time,” says Lucas seriously. “You barely survived! The Slipper was the leader of the Undermen, and a formidable assassin. Unlike his predecessor, he didn’t approve of you – The Oracle – and your friends having the power and privileges that you did. He tried to have you killed. It was a mess – a mess that resulted in the Slipper being dead, as well as the man most likely to have succeeded him. There was a power vacuum.”
“Tell me I stepped in!”
“You stepped in.”
“Good for me!”
“Yes, it was. And you’ve been running the Undermen for the two years since then.”
Over the mind link comes Morningstar’s distressed thoughts: “No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
She turns to the rest of the party (to whom she is relaying Dranko’s conversation), a look on her face even more aggrieved than usual.
“I’m married to the mob.”
...to be continued...
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