Seas of Fire

[Rune]

Session 2, part 1

I run.

Looking back, I can see an unearthly green glow coming from the eyes of the scarecrow’s burlap face. I see Jared’s form tense in the darkness for a brief moment before he mechanically turns and runs toward me. The scarecrow slowly, almost imperceptively, rustles through the corn—or through my imagination.

I head to my hut, drop off the halfling, and wake up Maialin. We soak some rags in oil and wrap them about a number of our arrows and crossbow bolts. There is a slight scratching at my door—or, perhaps, it is only the wind. The three of us keep watch outside of the hut in shifts of three hours, two at a time, for the duration of the night.

Before dawn, we wake the halfling and dine on leftover (rum) stew that Toady has heated for us. I tell him to stay inside today (he is only too happy to oblige) and to let no one through the door until my return. Jared, Maialin, Fruff, and I head to the Southern gate of Lake View to meet Dexerion and Virian, where we learn that they were visited during the night by a man with an urgent message for Jared, from a man identified as “Mr. P.” Virian apparently told the man that we would be heading for the Northwestern gate an hour after sunrise. At least his heavy drinking did not dull his wits too much.

I caution Jared in the old Cant that I’ve never heard of a more likely ambush. Jared agrees, but feels that he must take the risk. I understand. As an afterthought, Virian mentions that the messenger was “not a member of the royal entourage.” Now where did Virian learn to speak a little Cant? We’ll have to be more careful. Jared decides that he should take the name, “Garret,” while he his on this pillar. Maialin sees the sense in this course of action and takes the name of “Elah.” I wonder why they waited this long to assume new identities.

I chat with the guards at the Southern gate for a little while and learn that Father Mehmet, a priest of Shimdar, the Sun god, and a member of the Council, did not appear in the parade. Something is amiss. We’ll have to shelve this problem for a little while, however; Jared insists that we meet the messenger at the Northwestern gate.

We discuss our approach and it is decided that Virian and Dexerion should walk in front of the rest of us. I tell them not to worry, “You won’t be able to see us, but we’ll be there.” Virian is given Jared’s mirror and asked to cast a simple magick to reflect a small red light on the messenger, so that Jared would be able to identify the man.

One hundred and fifty feet behind the point, Jared casually strolled along. Another hundred and fifty feet back, Maialin and I hug to the shadows, keeping pace. Our bows are in hand.

Up ahead, Virian strikes up a conversation with the messenger, during which he casts his minor magick. Jared gives Maialin and myself a hand-sign to tell us that we should stay put as he advances. We keep pace.

The messenger leads Jared and his companions into an alley. Maialin and I keep pace. The messenger hands Jared a dirt-caked envelope. I can’t help but think, Don’t open the letter. Don’t open the letter, but my mental warning is fruitless. Jared opens the letter.

A glowing snake leaps from it, wraps itself around his neck, strikes, and disappears. We are betrayed!

And the messenger is not alone.

 

[Rune]

Session 2, part 2

There are four men with the messenger, all large, and all armed with saps. At least we know that murder is not their immediate aim. Jared is encased in an amber shell, but Virian and Dexerion are quick to act.

One of the men, a small, wiry man with a mustache, steps forward to strike at Virian, but the tall music-maker dodges the blow. Another lands a heavy blow on Dexerion, nearly bringing the magician to his knees. Virian takes a step back and dazes the messenger with a short song.

Maialin has already shot a bolt from her crossbow, as I try to find an opening in the melee. Her shot is wide, so she advances thirty feet to take her next shot.

One of the men moves around to attack Dexerion, and brings the poor spellworker to the ground.

I fire my bow, but my arrow skins my wrist as it flies from my bow, directing my shot to some unseen location.

The first thug circles around the melee to reach a better position.

Maialin closes to within eighty feet and reloads her crossbow, ducking out of site.

A thug steps into Virian’s face and swings at the four-armed fop, but the blow is deftly avoided.

I advance a few yards and fire another shot from my bow. I miss, but ready another shot; we need to keep the ranged attacks coming, in order to distract the ambushers.

The first thug advances upon Virian and swings his sap at the bard, but the man cannot hit our agile friend. The second thug moves to flank and attack him. He is also unsuccessful. Virian responds by striking at the first attacker. A high-pitched whistle follows the tall man’s staff. Whoooooooooooom, THUD.

The attacker never knew what hit him. He is out cold. Impressive.

Maialin yells for help from the guard as she fires a bolt into the back of the shoulder of the messenger, but the well-dressed ruffian is able to shrug off the pain. Moreover, this seems to shock him out of his stupor.

He picks up the immobile Jared with the help of one of his allies, and carries my unfortunate friend away from us. As they walk by, Virian stabs out with his singing staff. Whaaaaaaah, THWUMP. The messenger takes the blow, but the two thugs keep walking. When they set Jared down, the messenger pulls a roll of papyrus from the folds of his clothing. If that scrap of paper is what I think it is, we need to swiftly bring the man down.

I move to within sixty feet and shoot another arrow. Again, I miss.

The wiry thug lunges at Virian and lands a telling blow, forcing the bard into unconsciousness. Two allies down and one immobile. Maialin and I are definitely in trouble.

She loads her crossbow and fires again, her bolt striking the messenger in the back and spinning him around. Still, he stands. Understandably, he does not seem to be able to concentrate on his papyrus scroll.

I advance to my fallen comrades and check to see if they are in danger of death. They are unconscious, but in no immediate danger.

Then, we hear one of the attackers exclaim in evident frustration, “The guards are here! You’ve messed it all up!” I look up and see that there are, indeed, two guards at the other end of the alley. The guards call out for the ruffians to drop their weapons, and two comply, but the messenger turns and runs the other way. Toward Maialin and myself. I trip him as he attempts to run past and she steps onto his fallen form, the tip of her dagger resting at the small of his back. She is almost silent as she speaks: “Release our friend from your spell, or suffer dire consequences.” She is impressive in her cool wrath.

When Jared is released from his bondage, he immediately and discreetly eats the filthy envelope bearing his name.

I chat with the guards for a bit; they have natural questions regarding the circumstances of this attack. As far as I can tell, we were robbed by ruffians for no real reason, other than simple greed. They are curious why these attackers would try to kidnap one of our number, but I have no answer for them. I supply them with my address and they tell me that I might expect a visit from them in the near future. They are rightfully concerned over the number of fights that have broken out in the city over the last few days. Why, just yesterday, someone down at the docks had been asking incoherent questions and assaulting passersby. What is this world coming to?

 

[Horacio]

A long update! And a good one!
I like a lot your version of Sundered Sky world...

 

[Rune]

Session 2, part 3

Here’s where things start to get complicated.

We go back to my house, carrying the bodies of our unconscious friends. Toady and the kid have been sharing my rum. Again. I tell Toady that I will give him a raise, which will precisely cover the cost of the rum imbibed this day. He responds: “Then I hoope eets a beeg raaise!” Like I say, Toady’s a pretty decent gardener, when he’s gardening, but he’s always good company.

We wait around my house for an hour or so, while Dexerion and Virian come to. I’m itching to go to my cornfield and look for that scarecrow, but I’d like to have everyone (except Toady, of course) with me when I do. We’ll just have to wait.

After a while, we do all make it out to my field and look for the signs of a ghostly scarecrow. There is an area where the tops of my cornstalks are all cleanly shorn off, as if from a scythe. I find large boot-marks leading in no particular direction, a little bit of hay (aha! There was a scarecrow!), and…a few pumpkin seeds? The halfling finds a tiny footprint that I am at first convinced is his own—I still think it might be. I show the rest of the group my find and Fruff asks the pertinent question: “Are they evil pumpkin seeds?” Halflings say the darndest things.

After searching the area thoroughly, we return to my hut. Toady is talking to my neighbor, a close friend of mine, about letting him use a hoe. I have no objections. He and I shake hands; it has been too long since we last saw each other. We must get together again, perhaps for tonight’s supper. He and I always share good stories.

Now, however, it is time to head south, to check out these mysterious ghostly caravan attacks. Along the way, we discover that Father Mehmet performed a wedding ceremony in the villa of Hurst just a couple of days ago. Most people believe that his caravan was the one that was attacked. I tend to agree with them.

As we travel through the savanna, we become increasingly aware that the day is darkening and a storm is brewing. I certainly hope that we can be back in my comfortable sod hut before the weather breaks. Somewhere overhead, a fungal cloud drifts by, darkening the day even more for a few moments. We come to a point at which a Lake View guard asks us not to divert from the road; this is the site of the abduction! I try to convince the man that we mean no harm, but have good reason for wanting to see the site. The man believes me, I think, but orders are orders. I understand. I give him a small flask of rum (I usually carry a little on my person for similar situations or emergencies) and thank him for his time. We press on.

A lone tree claws its way from the ground. Dozens of brightly plumed birds roost in its branches. Before I can finish the words, “Stay away from the tree,” Fruff has climbed into its upper canopy. Kids.

I discuss our options with my colleagues. Up ahead, the investigators are not likely to let us anywhere near the site. But I have an ever-growing fear that something is amiss. We need to check this out. If only we had a gnome with us.

Wait a minute! Maialin has a disguise kit! We’ll just do a little bit of work and, all of a sudden, we have our very own Guild Ambassador. He looks absolutely convincing, if only he doesn’t speak!

We advance to the site, but the head investigator—a man in silk clothing, sporting spectacles—halts us, despite the fact that he appears to believe the tale that Virian spins (Virian is, of course, the voice of the gnome. The rest of us are bodyguards. The rat-thing is well hidden), he will not allow us anywhere near the site. Apparently, the Guild specifically sent this man to investigate. In truth, they are burning evidence. In order to justify our presence, I ask which faction of the Guild he is working for, hoping to cause confusion and doubt. He “pretends” to not know what I’m talking about. Well, it was worth a shot.

We eventually leave the site, but not before Jared snatches up a tube that has fallen, unnoticed, to the ground on its way to the fire. The tube has a papyrus scroll in it. After his earlier encounter with the written word, he passes the tube to me.

It is a diary of Father Mehmet. I will not bore you with its intricacies, but I must tell you that it relates some troubling information. Father Mehmet has found out that the Guild Ambassadors are interested in trading with the long-dead kingdom of Nar-Abar. Long dead. As in, “two-hundred years ago, most of the population got wiped out by the spore-fever, long dead.” Why would the guild want to open trade with nothing?

Father Mehmet found out. The agreements that the Ambassadors were working on are ambiguous, but terms include the import of zombies and skeletons for cheap labor.

The import of zombies and skeletons for cheap labor? Huh?

There is more, but I cannot bring myself to mention it. I store the scroll of papyrus in a safe place for now and move on.

 

[Horacio]

The import of zombies and skeletons for cheap labor? Huh?

A really scary image, hundreds of zombies labouring the fields, skeletons cleaning the streets...

BTW, a third update today? Wow!

 

[Rune]

Session 2, part 4

We head back toward my home. On the way, we run into two priests of Shimdar, who were with the Father’s caravan. I tell them that I was a personal friend of Father Mehmet, a small fib, but I mean no harm. I tell them that it is our intention to try to find Father Mehmet (although I really believe that the man is certainly dead). They describe the attack as an assault by scarecrows. If not for the events of last night, I would be inclined to laugh at this description; now, I am not capable of it. The priests bless us and give us me two vials that may save our lives if we are wounded. I give one to Jared and one to Maialin, as I hope that they will be the most capable of administering them to one of us, should we need it. They also tell me of a tracker that they have sent for and we run north to find him. When we do, he is willing to accompany us into the wilderness in search of the priest, but something still feels wrong to me. I tell the group to wait two hours for me; I must go to town and seek aid from some friends that I have.

I return with two warriors, a slightly rotund fellow with a massive spear, named Baneir, and an athletic youth with a long sword, named Luman. Now, we may venture into the unknown.

The halfling is actually able to help the tracker find the trail. Between the two of them, they find large boot-marks and…squish. The halfling has stepped in something. In fact, it is the top of a pumpkin. Odd.

Fortunately, the storm has not yet begun. By nighttime, we come to a clearing. In the center of the clearing a gnarled tree towers over a massive boulder. Something seems very wrong about this tree, this stone, this place. I light one of my oil-rag-wrapped arrows and fire it at the tree. It seems to go out. I prepare to fire a shot at the stone. Dexerion suggests that an illuminating magick should be cast on the arrow. Good idea. I fire the illuminated arrow at the stone and, as I suspected might be the case, it also appears to go out, as well. Instead of bouncing off of the rock and landing on the ground.

Maialin, Jared, and I prepare our bows (and ignitable arrows and bolts) and circle around the clearing, keeping to the tall grass.

A large scythe emerges from the boulder and is soon followed by the slow, methodical shuffling of a seven-foot tall scarecrow, creaking in the winds that presage storm. A glowing arrow juts from its torso, illuminating the wicked features of the creature’s pumpkin head.

 

[Rune]

A long update! And a good one!
I like a lot your version of Sundered Sky world...

Thanks, although, in fairness to the DM, this isn't really Sundered Sky--it's just heavily influenced by that setting. The DM hadn't even read the Sundered Sky when he and I created this setting. When I do another campaign (after the one linked to in the sig, which, by the way, rootbeergnome plays in), it will be Sundered Sky. Modified, but very recognizable.

We had a long session tonight, I hope you enjoy reading about it! We enjoyed playing!

 

[drunkadelic]

more on the last session

Hello all. Jared(Garret) again.

A few of interest notes about the last session.

1. Jared opened that letter because he thought it was a message from someone dear to him that he knows to be in danger. Mr. Rootbeergnome thought for sure a rogue-archetype such as jared would have no problem making a reflex save. And then I rolled a 4. Plus 4. Not enough. Oh well. It's all good.

2. I, as in, my physical real world self, ate that dirt-encrusted letter that the GM gave me. I figured RB Gnome went through all the trouble of printing a letter (which his sepia snake sigil was actually one single Wingding font in the middle of the page ) putting it in an envelope and calligraphying (sp?) my character's name on it, so I was going to return the realism and eat the letter while he (acting as the inquisitive guards) wasn't paying attention to me. The things we do for this game.

3. It makes me very pleased to know that many of you are taking an interest in our little game. I hope you all can enjoy us for many more sessions yet to come.

Jared

 

[Majicou]

Hi, all! I've not had a chance to put in my two cents yet, but here it is! One penny, two pennies... I play Maialin, the half-elf.

Just to let you know, I blame almost getting caught pickpocketing on all the mead the wizard let me drink. And I didn't belive in the scarecrow-monsters until I saw that one come out of the rock. I guess I'll have to apologize for laughing at the guys, right? Well, after we manage somehow to get out of this mess... Other than that, I've just been tagging along, having fun - except for that mess with Jarod and the bad guys. It felt really strange calling the guards instead of running from them; but I wasn't about to let my only real friend get taken, and I didn't think we could do it alone, what with the wizard down and all. Still, hey, it's kind of cool to have the guards working for us!

Ok, that's it for now, I'm out of time!

 

[Rune]

Thank you for the insight, majicou!

And welcome to the enworlds! I hope you take a look around and enjoy yourself. We're happy to have you stop by!

By the way, great sig!