Sailors on the Starless Sea

[GlassEye]

OOC & Rogues Gallery

Special Rules:
Defensive Fighting: Surrender all attacks for +2 to AC for the turn. Fighters and Dwarves gain 1+level? AC

Cast:
Roger, the Parsnip Farmer, throttled by a vine horror.
Bijela, the Urchin, whipped into oblivion by a vine horror.
Xim Liab, the halfling Dyer, pierced by portcullis.
Alaric, the Squire, tarred and fired.
Happy Lordlinker, Squire, tarred and fired, pt. 2
Dudles, the Parsnip Farmer, tripped and skewered
Geoffrey, the Indentured Servant, bits of face pushed out the back of his brain
Jakob, Caravan Guard, cloven in twain
Fendrel, the halfling Dyer (L 7) (Dogmatron)
Brom Rollason, the dwarven Stonemason (L 17) (Dogmatron)
Zim, the halfling Dyer (L 16) (Fireinthedust)
Borok, the dwarven Blacksmith (L 14) (Fireinthedust), returned to the village.
Narančasta, the Noble (L 12) (Doghead)
Siva, the Hunter (L 14) (Doghead)
Tender Woodfingers, dwarven Chest-Maker (L 9) (Deuce Traveler)
Boral Furren, Wheat Farmer (L 14) (Deuce Traveler)
Kurl Sparkhaven, Wizard's Apprentice (L 8) (Deuce Traveler)
Franko the Fickle, Jester (L 11) (Scott DeWar)
Homar Greenthumb, halfling Moneylender (L 4) (Scott DeWar)
Hank, Scribe (L 5) (Scott DeWar)

XP: 10

LOOT:
Vine Horrors: 1x short sword, 1x dagger
Burnt Chapel: 3x chainmail hauberk (human-sized), 3x mace, 1x flail, 1x iron coffer w/ 3 cones of incense wrapped in a cloth stitched with golden chaos symbol, 1x golden censer
Tower of the Beast-men: 53 sp, 23 gp, 2 pp; elven short sword; green cloak; iron axe; spear (x6); silver torc
Empty Vault: 7 cp, 10 sp, and 6 gp

 

[GlassEye]

Krivstad. Once in ages past it was a prosperous town, making its lucre by fulfilling the whims of those who ruled from what is now simply referred to, when it is not referenced by mutters and a sideways glance in its ill-omened direction, as ‘the keep’. Now Krivstad is a haphazard collection of rickety homes, half-collapsed buildings, and narrow, crooked streets inhabited by poor, superstitious farmers and traders who tend their fields and failing businesses while muttering about the dense, hostile forest pressing in on their town and who try to forget the mutterings of crones about the dark days of the keep some few miles distant that was cast down long before their time.

Dark days have returned to Krivstad: a fortnight ago the herb woman disappeared in the forest and hasn’t been seen since. Two days later the soapmaker and his wife vanished from their beds. Disappearance followed disappearance until now nearly a score of Krivstad’s citizens are inexplicably missing. Keen eyes have spotted a dark banner flapping from the heights of the keep and the tongues of Krivstad’s gossips wag that evil has returned to the keep.

Whether brave or foolish, whether volunteers or coerced into it, some few have decided the keep will take no more of Krivstad’s citizens.

Rumors:
[sblock=DeuceTraveler]Look for treasure in the keep’s sole remaining tower. A wealth of gold is hidden there.[/sblock][sblock=Doghead]Beware the well! It has swallowed many a poor soul.[/sblock][sblock=Dogmatron]The keep sits atop an ancient horror, a seed so wicked that it taints all who come near.[/sblock][sblock=Fireinthedust]Nothing good can come of disturbing the evil ruins. You’ll only unleash the horror beneath the hill.[/sblock]

 

[doghead]

Narančasta, Siva, Bijela, and Xim.

Bojar Narančasta sat in the small ramshackle church that also served as town hall, half listening to the priest drone through the service while simultaneously brooding over the circumstances which had brought him to this place. Beside him sat Siva, in grey as usual, but without her bow. Church was the only time she was without it. Xim sat a few rows back with Bijela, the urchin that had attached herself to himself and Siva. Probably just looking to steal something, was Siva's opinion. Narančasta didn't dispute this. But the kid was smart and and a bit cheeky and Narančasta liked him. And the urchin had no one else in the world. The Spirit of Charity required that Narančasta help out as he could.

Absorbed as he was in his own thoughts, the Bojar failed to notice when the priest turned his attention to recent events in the village. But eventually the sense of expectation in the room, and the feeling of dozens of eyes watching him brought his attention back into the here and now. Narančasta didn't need to heard what the priest had said to know what he had said. The talk of the village had been of nothing else for the last few days. Narančasta had kept his true title to himself, asking only to be addressed as 'Sir', an honorific appropriate for any mounted warrior in service. But his accent, the quality of his clothes and the sword at his hip had all served to reveal his noble birthright, if not his specific title.

Narančasta rose slowly to his feet and nodded in the direction of the priest and village head-man (or head-woman in this case). "I, and my companion, are of course willing to help do what we can to help the village with this problem. We will give our support to any party heading to the keep."

From the back of the room Bijela shouted "As will I, as his squire, also!" The raucous laughter of the villagers at the Urchin's conceit largely drowned out his angry response, but Narančasta was pretty sure that he hear "dirt eating bumpkins" and "useless clodhoppers" in there somewhere. Narančasta turned to look back at Xim and Bijela. The kids eyes were wide with excitement. Xim's expression gave little away as usual, but she had a firm grip on the back of the kid's shirt. "Don't even think about it," hissed Siva. But the kid had potential and the idea had merit. Narančasta knew his current squire had ambitions other than following the path of the knight, and suspected that he would be in need of a new squire soon. Perhaps he would take Bijela on as a page to start. Narančasta nodded at Bijela, who responded with a grin that lit up his face. Xim just shrugged her shoulders, and then nodded. Narančasta was glad. Despite her unassuming presence, over the last few weeks Xim had proved a fine travelling companion.

So it was done.

 

[GlassEye]

When Narančasta made his declaration of aid a light glimmered across the face of the battered wooden statue that represented Barearav, one of the gods of Law worshiped in Krivstad, and briefly caught his attention. Surely it was just a reflection from a flickering candle on the golden varnish of the statue and not a portent...

The aged priest looked ready to start off on another tedious, droning exhortation on responsibility and duty, unless another someone would prove brave or foolish enough to speak up.

[sblock=doghead]Excellent beginning! +1 Luck to Narančasta.[/sblock]
​

 

[fireinthedust]

Borok the dwarven blacksmith sat in the pew of the temple of Law, grumbling and polishing his hammer with his long white beard's tip.

"No good can come of us tampering with those evil ruins. You fools will unleash evil upon us all!" He growled at the collected assembly. "No doubt in my mind about it. Those missing peasants probably did something to anger the gods. Herb woman probably stole some flowers from around them, angered some demons! Now they'll all come down upon us in the night. Steal our children and shave our beards!"


Zim the halfling giggled. "Oh yes, I'm sure there's a score of demons just waiting to take your beard. Probably throwing dice right now to see which one holds you down and which one snips with shears!"

"Ah!" Squeeled Dudles, the simple parsnip farmer, holding his hands over his jaw to hide his own sparse whiskers. "They's mah best feature! What we gonna do?"


Squire Alaric was silent, pondering events. His mind went to the herb woman, who was a friend of his and had told him stories about the ancient spirits and spells of the old days. Though young, Alaric was wise beyond his years.

"We must go in. There is evil beneath the ruins that does not sleep now, and will not sleep until it is destroyed. Our village has been molested, our citizens murdered by its foul purpose. We must take a stand. We must put a stop to this."

 

[GlassEye]

The ancient priest, Mihai, raised up trembling, stick-thin arms into the air each hand cupped as if to catch blessings. "Praise the Lords of Light and Law! Prodigal Alaric has returned and brought with him a warrior of noble bearing to deliver us from evil that assails us in the night!"

Elderia, the matronly Krivstad head-woman, stood up from the heavy wooden chair that dwarfed her and hurried to the center of the room clearly afraid Mihai would take the opportunity to turn the meeting into a religious service so he could deliver a sermon to those who rarely attended. "Yes, yes," she says hurriedly interrupting. "Krivstad will be in your debt and will fête you upon your return. But half the morning has passed already and you still have to pass through the forest to..." Elderia hesitated and cleared her throat before continuing in a much subdued tone. "...the keep."

 

[doghead]

"We must go in. There is evil beneath the ruins that does not sleep now, and will not sleep until it is destroyed. Our village has been molested, our citizens murdered by its foul purpose. We must take a stand. We must put a stop to this."

Narančasta looked over to where Alaric stood and nodded slightly. The boy may have no wish to become a knight, but he had the makings of a good one Narančasta thought.

The ancient priest, Mihai, raised up trembling, stick-thin arms into the air each hand cupped as if to catch blessings. "Praise the Lords of Light and Law! Prodigal Alaric has returned and brought with him a warrior of noble bearing to deliver us from evil that assails us in the night!"

Elderia, the matronly Krivstad head-woman, stood up from the heavy wooden chair that dwarfed her and hurried to the center of the room clearly afraid Mihai would take the opportunity to turn the meeting into a religious service so he could deliver a sermon to those who rarely attended. "Yes, yes," she says hurriedly interrupting. "Krivstad will be in your debt and will fête you upon your return. But half the morning has passed already and you still have to pass through the forest to..." Elderia hesitated and cleared her throat before continuing in a much subdued tone. "...the keep."

As the two elders wrestled for control of the floor, Narančasta takes a moment to look over those who had spoken up so far. About a half dozen or so, depending if all who had spoken chose to go.

"We will need weapons!" squeaked Bijela, his voice breaking in his excitement. "We can't fight monsters with sticks! So dig out your granddaddies old spear or shield. Better used to save the town than as a coat hook or potato tray!"

"We will also need some supplies; torches, some rope, enough food for a couple of days," adds the ever practical Siva. Narančasta glances at her, and she shrugs. "if we are going to help these people, the least that they can do is help us do so."

Xim, stepping into the discussion as the rest of the villagers are digesting this last development, makes an offer of her own, heading of any complaints and getting the ball rolling. "My family has some waxwort dyed lengths that can be used as a cloaks, and a bedroll, for anyone who needs one."

Narančasta sighs inwardly, but he has travelled with this group long enough to not be surprised. They are a resourcefully group, and quick to back each other up. Which is why they have been been such good travelling companions. He can't really complain.

"Everything lent will be greatly appreciated, and returned where possible," Narančasta adds as clarification, and reassurance.

 

[Dogmatron]

"I'll go to that there Keep," said Roger from the back of the church, "Someone with some sense needs to go to keep an eyes these others."besides, there was no way he was going to let that fool parsnip farmer go to this keep without him going along too. Both he and Dudles had been eyeing the same plot of bottom land for years. There was no way he was going to let Dudles come back from some adventure with enough gold to buy it out from under him. Probably nothing more to this whole business than a few people run off and a scary story or two to keep the children in line anyways.

Old man Jessup stood up from his place in the middle of the church. "I may be too old to go, but I'll send my man Geoffrey here." A tall thin man next to looks up with alarm. Jessup sat back down. "Don't look so distressed Geoff. you keep saying tyou want to pay off your debt to me so you can marry that young Alyssa girl. Well, this is your chance. May be your only chance if you don't want to have to work off your debt for another 4 years. You might come back from this with enough coin to pay me off and set yourself up with a nice start."

And I might just come back dead too Geaffrey thought. But the old man was right...this just might be the chance he needed.

"You can count me in too I guess. I promised Uncle Pim I'd keep an out on these two scalawags." added Fendrel, indicating the two younger halflings who had already jump at the chance to join the mob.

"As well as I", continued Brom, stroking his own majestic beard. "I'd rather be the one to go shaving than stay home waiting ta be shaved!"

 

[GlassEye]

Gyalu Goldtongue, seated in the back and rolling his eyes at every mention of civic responsibility, stands when Narančasta and his retinue start seeking donations for the expedition. He steeples his long, spider-like fingers together and looks out over the crowd with hooded eyes and a thin smile just this side of a smirk. "My store will open as soon as I return to it and you are free to select what you would like from it. Of course, as you may not return at all I am afraid I must ask full price for any items taken."

Gyalu's pronouncement sets off a wave of muttering and dark looks and effectively tramples the burgeoning spirit of charity within the meeting hall. Mihai looks to object, "We have a sacred duty..."

"Duty is all well and good," interrupts Gyalu. "But I need my spear to protect myself. None were taken last night so whatever is up there will certainly be back tonight if these stalwarts don't return."

 

[doghead]

"The merchant has the right of it," injects Siva into the space left by the departure of Charity. "No one has the right to tell some else what he should do with his property, or what value he should put on it."

"Unless they are the taxman!" pipes up someone from the middle of the hall. Nervous laughter fills the hall. At the back of the room a youngish man huddles deeper into his nondescript (but quality) cloak. "They always know," Chekhov's assistant mutters under his breath. "Couldn't distinguish an accountant from an acctuary, or a courtier from a chevalier, but a taxman they can pick a hundred miles away."

Siva continues on one the hall has quietened down. "Each of you is free to do as you see right, and will be rewarded appropriately as the gods see fit," she concludes with an engaging smile and a nod in the direction of the statue behind her. If this village is like every other I have known, for every abandoned keep, dark cave and dismal valley there is a story of treasures attached to it. The idea that they may get a share of it by helping might shake loose a little generosity.

[sblock=OOC]Hehehe. Chekhov's taxman. [/sblock]