"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)


Moderator Emeritus
Session #21– “The Journey Home” (part 2 of 3)

Bleys, Telémahkos and Victoria were still against going in to the mysterious cave, but Victoria deferred to the priest of Ra, and Telémahkos said he would stay behind with Dunlevey and guard the entrance.

“Send Dunlevey back to camp to tell the others we might be a while and to help guard them from what other dangers may be around here,” Victoria said. “I will stay with you and guard the way in. I should not enter for I fear the prohibition against violence may exclude me.”

“You aren’t violent!” Timotheus complained.

“The ethos of my god is all about violence…” Victoria reasoned. 1

“You don’t have to come Bleys,” Markos said.

But the watch-mage shook his head. “I am obligated to do so…”

“Okay, remember everyone… Don’t attack anyone unless attacked first,” Timotheus warned as they began to march in, Laarus leading the way. “And we won’t be attacked if that voice was telling the truth, so we shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Victoria may be right about the violence,” Laarus said, and he walked back to hand his weapons to Telémahkos. Markos followed suit, but Bleys and Timotheus refused to walk in unarmed.

The passage deep into the black rock narrowed, and the four young nobles could soon feel waves of heat coming up from the direction they headed, curving ever downward as the passage’s shape became that of a perfect isosceles triangle.

They had walked nearly twenty minutes when the increasingly unbearable heat was joined by the red glow at the end of the passage. Beyond they could see it opened into a much larger chamber. As they approached, Laarus saw runes above the portal. “Here Lies the Mind of Oberah,” he read.

“Who is that?” asked Markos.

“I do not know,” Laarus replied. Bleys just shook his head.

Beyond the portal was a great round room, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet across. It was lined with narrow vents in its stone floor from which blasted steam and sulfur. The rounded ceiling was at least thirty feet at its apex. At the far end of the chamber was raised crescent of stone where there were more vents. It was about four feet off the floor of the rest of the cavern, like a stage. Upon it sat a lone figure, but they could not make out much about it from where they were. In the center of the chamber was a round stone set into the floor that glowed dim orange giving off waves of heat. It was perhaps two feet in diameter and rose less than a foot off the ground.

“What the hell are you grinning at?” Markos asked Timotheus as the two of them followed Laarus into the chamber. Bleys waited at the portal, wary.

“This place is great!” Tim’s grin widened.

“You look like the village idiot,” Markos replied with a look of disdain.

As they approached the stone in the middle of the chamber, Markos cast detect magic, but aside from what they brought with them nothing here radiating a dweomer.

“Odd…” Markos said aloud.

“You are the one that calls me? Compels me to come here?” Laarus called to the figure on the raised stone. It was a wiry man with pruned dark skin wearing nothing but a loincloth, his legs crossed, and his eyes closed as if deep in concentration. The man opened his eyes and calmly shook his head no.

“It was not you?” Laarus asked again. The man shook his head again and pointed to the round stone in the middle of the chamber, and then closed his eyes once more, ignoring them.

“The stone…” Markos pointed as well. “Try talking to the stone… Address it as Oberah…”

The priest of Ra looked to the stone and took a deep breath. The hot air, swirling with tiny bits of ash stung his lungs, and fat beads of sweat poured down his shaven head. He kneeled down and began to unlace his boots.

“What are you doing?” Markos asked.

“Taking off my boots…”

“Did it tell you to do that? Should we all?” Timotheus asked, his good humor had dampened some in the extreme heat.

“It did not say,” Laarus replied.

Timotheus and Markos shrugged and began to undo their boots as well to be safe. In the meantime, Laarus made to step on the glowing hot stone.

“Whoa! Wait! What are you doing?” Timotheus hopped toward Laarus awkwardly on one foot, a boot in his right hand. Laarus paid him no mind and stepped on the stone, putting his feet together. He felt the searing pain for a moment as his feet immediately began to sizzle and crack and blacken. He threw his head back as if in agony, his whole body swinging backward, but his knees locked and his feet welded to the hot stone.

“Laarus!” Markos stepped forward and Timotheus did the same. Bleys the Aubergine came running into the chamber. Laarus looked up, but his eyes glowed with the orange of the stone, his head tilted in manner that was so unlike the young priest that chills ran down their spines despite the heat.

“Sons of Thricia…” A deep voice intoned from within Laarus body. His mouth moved, but the voice was not his, as alien as the twitching of his mannerisms. “Ever cautious are you… When the wave crashes on Thrician soil it shall be those who act with alacrity that will find victory.”

“Are we supposed to say something back?” Timotheus asked Markos, looking back and forth from the possessed figure of Laarus and the scrawny mage. Markos raised a hand and shook his head.

The voice from within Laarus continued. “My people ignored the fertile savagery of the bloody earth and it led to their end. The tide rises again…”

There was a long silence. “How about now?” Tim asked.

“What do you want to say?” Markos hissed, annoyed.

“I don’t know…”

“My voice comes to you from afar… Across space and time,” The voice that was not Laarus said. “Through space and time and the planes… The connection grows tenuous. You may ask me three questions. Ask them now.”

Bleys and Markos fell to arguing over what should be asked of the oracle.

“We should ask where the next ‘pearl of power’ is,” Markos suggested.

“For the last time, they are not ‘pearls of power,’” Bleys said. 2 “Since we do not know the actual name of these pearls we cannot ask and be assured of an accurate answer. Also, what do you mean by ‘next’? ‘Next’ in terms of what?”

“Well then, the closest…” Markos said.

“Without the name the question is pointless,” Bleys irritated.

“You know… It really seemed to suggest that we had a limited time to ask it questions,” Timotheus warned. “You had better hurry…”

“The three questions we are very important, we cannot simply rush into this,” Bleys said.

“You have two questions…” The voice from within Laarus said.

Bleys’ head snapped towards the possessed priest and he furrowed his brow.

“I told you so,” Timotheus said.

“We’d better hurry with the remaining questions before we lose them as well,” Markos said.

“This is absurd,” Bleys replied. “Without proper time to craft pertinent questions whatever information we do get in answer may be more harmful than no answers at all…”

“Why don’t we ask, who is our primary enemy in this?” Markos suggested.

“In what?” Bleys asked in reply.

“In this ‘savage tide,’ whatever that is…” Markos clarified. Bleys shrugged his shoulders.

“I will take that as a ‘yes,’” Markos said, and he turned to his cousin, teetering awkwardly on the burning stone, the painful looking charred stains on his feet slowly crawling to his ankles. “Who is our primary enemy in this matter?”

There was a long silence and finally the voice came. “Too many to name, but you may begin with the Cults of the Beasts.”

“A useless answer,” Bleys said. Markos sneered at him.

“Where should…” Timotheus began to ask a question, but Markos stopped him and looked to Bleys for approval. The watch-mage shrugged again, “I have no objections.”

“Where should we go first to investigate this?” Timotheus asked.

“The tower of Stanislaw Torn,” the voice replied, and with that Laarus collapsed, falling off the stone and onto his knees. Bleys immediately had his healer’s kit open and saw to the priest’s feet.

“What…? What happened?” Laarus croaked. His head was ringing, his stomach turned as if he had had one of his visions, though he coughed up no bile.

“You were the vessel for some oracle from beyond,” Timotheus said, helping him to sit up.

“It was some form of extraplanar entity,” Markos hypothesized.

“Oberah?” Laarus asked.

“We didn’t ask its name. We only got three questions… Well, two questions, and that wasn’t one of them,” Timotheus quipped.

“Does this hurt?” Bleys poked at Laarus foot with a pin. Laarus sat up and winced grabbing at his foot. Both feet were blackened and tender, but were not really burned. He could not bear to put his boots back on yet, but he sensed that they would toughen up, though he was less sure about whether or not they’d stay blackened.

“Wise one, may I approach?” Markos was walking over to the meditating man while the other two helped Laarus to his feet. The man said nothing. “I will take you silence as consent.”

The man looked up and pointed to his temple and then to his mouth.

“A vow of silence?” Markos asked. The man closed his eyes and bowed his head again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ Markos said. Deciding there was nothing more to be gained here, Tim and Bleys helped Laarus back up to the entrance to the cave where Telémahkos and Victoria waited. They were told of the events in the cavern below as they made their way back to the camp, smelling the delicious landshark steaks sizzling on the fire.

“It was an old one, so it’s a little tougher than usual, but still… Damn good!” Kermit said between bites of a strip of the monster meat.

Over dinner, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland discussed what they knew of the Beast Gods, supplemented by Bleys and Laarus’ knowledge of the Ancients and Agon’s Realm.

“Didn’t those clues we found in Dalvan’s tomb mention the ram-headed god?” Markos asked. 3

“I believe so,” Bleys confirmed. “And it is said Agon had the head of a ram, at least according to some of the stories…”

“And there was the mention of the frog god of the bullywugs, right?” Markos’ mind was working now. It was during these times that he was too excited to be working at a puzzle to think about insulting anyone.

“And didn’t we see the sign of Hathor in the minotaur maze?” Timotheus asked.

“The Baphoment Stone Maze,” Bleys said. “Yes.” 4

. . .to be continued. . .


(1) Anhur’s portfolio includes war, death in combat, glory and victory.

(2) A proper name for the pearls like the one that allegedly turned at least half the populace of Kraken’s Cove into savage frogmen has been an on-going point of contention in the campaign (both in and out of game).

(3) This is a reference to scraps of paper pasted onto the wall of the treasure chamber of Dalvan’s tomb. You can view them here.

(4) The party entered and then quickly left the Baphomet Stone Maze in Session #14.

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First Post
Yay, crazy oracle that actually makes the party think quickly. Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they take too long to do things?



Moderator Emeritus
handforged said:
Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they [shouldn't] take too long to do things?


I assumed you meant "shouldn't" take too long. . . :)

Yes, he heard it, but in his defense are two factors:

1) He did not know exactly how long.
2) He figured that a too hastily asked question could prove more misleading or dangerous than asking no question at all.


Beast Gods

As long as we're clear that Bast had NOTHING to do with this. Nothing whatsoever. Move along. Nothing to see here. One of Her priests did NOT have a companion that freed the Ram Headed God. Nope. Nuh uh. I'll deny it if you ask me.


First Post
No, I meant it without the shouldn't. But the meaning is basically the same. The oracle told them that, "they take too long to do things." He also warned them that, "they [shouldn't] take too long to do things." Overall the gist is the same. I understand Bleys's reluctance to ask questions quickly, I just thought that he might have been one to follow instructions more carefully.



First Post
Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they take too long to do things?

I understand Bleys's reluctance to ask questions quickly, I just thought that he might have been one to follow instructions more carefully.

Well, I see it like this:

Bleys does not trust that all Oracles (if that's what we wanna call it...) are omnisicent.
Bleys does not trust that all Oracles are benevolent (or at least not malevolent).
Bleys does not trust what is clearly NOT divine or arcane.
Bleys does not trust that Laarus is wholly sane (or at least not being manipulated).

The priest of Ra - King of the Gods - admits that he receives visions from a source that is not derivative of Ra. That disturbs Bleys.

Bleys does not trust a random encounter in the middle of NOWHERE in the Disputed Territories that happens to 'call' Laarus to a random cave to give the rest of them information. (If it sounds to good to be true, it is...)

Bleys does not trust a 'voice' that has been waiting for time innumerable just for this exact moment, and NOW all of a sudden has a tentative grasp on its line of communication that it can not converse or be patient just a while longer...

Bleys does not trust a random naked man who won't talk but lives in the random cave with no food, water, or clothing.....

Being a Diviner, Bleys is wary of the power of information, or its opposite, and considers all these things when engaging in any decision-making process. He is methodical (perhaps to a fault - :) ) in both his approach to his Fighter class and Wizard class.

Bleys DOES like to follow directions, but must respect those issuing the orders....
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Moderator Emeritus
Session #21– “The Journey Home” (part 3 of 3)

Anulem, the 7th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

A week later, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland were in Wesmearshire. The intervening time had been spent moving steadily northward, sometimes east and sometimes west, seemingly at Kermit’s whim. They spent their meal breaks and time around camp endlessly discussing a party name, but could not even agree on the necessity of a name. Laarus and Victoria were against any sort of name at all.

“If we are to have a name, then let us be named as is the tradition when children are named here in Thricia, rather than be so arrogant as to name ourselves,” Laarus said.

“It does seem like a foolish exercise,” Victoria insisted.

But the others did not want to get stuck with a name someone else came up with, and so several possibilities were bandied about. Finally, ‘the Sons of Thricia’ became the name least objectionable to the group, though no actual vote was held. 1

Three days after the battle with the landshark, they caught sight of two of large wagons full of coal, pulled by immense oxen, and led by a group of dwarves, halflings, gnomes and two humans. They were fording the River Takken, heading east, while the Signers and their hirelings were skirting the western shore of it. The coal wagons were headed towards a route that would be easy for their wagons to get past the Border Rift, but were worried about assaults by bandits. They were called ‘The Coal Black Riders’.

“We have to get through Throat Leech Pass in order to get to New Harbinger from here,” the dwarf named Werkal told Markos and Tim, who were chosen to ride ahead and parley with the merchants. Werkal had a brown beard stained black by coal dust and bright blue eyes behind his blackened face. He wore studded leather and carried a battle-axe over his shoulder. “We know there is an old ambush point that overlooks the pass, so if your group wanted… You could keep whatever loot you found there if you accompany us and then go ahead and take out the bandits before we arrive at the pass, taking them by surprise. We cannot afford to do so ourselves and leave the wagons unprotected.”

Markos and Timotheus brought this offer back to the others, but only Telémahkos and Timotheus were immediately eager to do it.

“I have a letter to deliver to Jacoba from Ethan,” Bleys explained. 2 The route these dwarves intended to take would avoid the Border Shires completely. Kermit refused to go with them if they decided to go, saying he did not sign on to go there, but to guide them to and from the Border Shires.

After a brief discussion it was agreed that if not for the message they would have accompanied the Coal Black Riders, but as it was they could not. Timotheus rode back to give them the news.

“Eh, that okay… We weren’t really expecting you to help anyway, but figured we’d ask…” the dwarf grew gruff.

“Well, next time you are in Sluetelot make sure you all swing by Death & Taxes,” Timotheus said, smiling apologetically. “We’ll make sure to leave you a standing round of drinks there.”

“Yeah, sure… So what do you call yourselves?” Werkal asked. “You know, so we can say…”

“Timotheus Smith and his Mystery Men,” Tim replied with a big smile.

Three days later as they spotted the western end of the Border Rift on the gray horizon the young nobles were clobbered with a torrential rain. It was the first time it had rained since they left for the Disputed Territories, and whatever relief it brought to them was soon forgotten in the relentless of the downpour over the next few days.

The crude sledge the statue was being dragged on had to be refastened with ropes every few miles, as it increasingly fell apart. It also held the weight of the landshark’s head, preserved for later display as a trophy, but currently under a spare dirty woolen blanket.

Crossing the River Takken on the ferry, they collapsed in Kermit’s cottage in Tunbury, some sleeping out in the small hay-covered barn that served as Duck-hunter’s den. The next day Kermit was paid an estimate of what his share would be with an agreement that if it turned out that the actual amount once everything was appraised and sold would mean he had underpaid by more than twenty-five silver pieces 3 then he wanted the rest sent to him, but that if it turned out he was overpaid at all, or underpaid by less than that amount, he would be satisfied. Bleys trusted his rough arithmetic and agreed to this on behalf of the group.

By afternoon they were being led into Thistlewoodshire by a stout halfling riding a donkey. Pigeons had been sent back and forth and Jacoba the Brown was alerted of their coming. Tambur was to guide them to Ficklebrook Well.

Jacoba the Brown was zaftig. She had a pleasing round face and apple cheeks and hair cut short at her chin She showed deep dimples when she smiled. She looked almost pink in her pallor. She was not much taller than the tallfellow halflings of the local shire. She had a low cottage built amid a cluster of burrows along a thin lazy river. Halflings of all ages began to gather to see the landshark head as it was pulled up to her house, and there were coos of admiration for the prowess in defeating such a monster.

Jacoba greeted them effusively, and recognized Markos and Laarus from functions associated with House Curen, as she was a noble from House Brill who also pledged fealty to that great house. Once they were inside and could admit that Ethan the Pearl sent them her demeanor changed a bit.

“I am happy that Ethan has worthy priests and warriors to aid in his noble cause, but I must warn you as I am sure he did…” The teapot in the kitchen began to squeal and she stood to attend to it, but stopped and looked at each of them. “You can risk no indiscretion on this matter… Your own safety, that of your loved ones and the hope of victory over such evil forces counts on it.”

“What can you tell us about Delorius Nathanlus?” Bleys asked when Jacoba returned with the tray of tea and biscuits.

“Last I heard she was in Neergaard, raising coin from disaffected nobles there… Or at least trying… in order to fund her schemes,” Jacoba replied. “She is no longer associated with… her former associates, and if she were to return to Thricia she would likely be arrested.”

“Do you know the name Stanislaw Torn?” Bleys asked.

“Hmm… Yes, it does sound familiar…” Jacoba said. “Does he not have some association with the Vandermoks? I think I heard that he fathered some Vandermok child… a daughter. That family always has some kind of dispute and controversy going on…”

“It is Maeve? Is Maeve his daughter?” Timotheus asked, happy that he was putting clues together.

Maeve the Mauve? No…” Jacoba shook her head with a smile. “Everyone knows who her parents are… The rumor is regarding someone unknown… Or less known child of that house… It is hard for me to stay on top of the noble gossip being out here in the Border Shires…” She sighed. “Sometimes I miss the comforts of home and the noble life, but then I remember…”

She stopped and looked around. “Well… I have no pleasant way to put it…”

“Then put it unpleasantly, we don’t mind,” Timotheus replied.

“Oh, I just am not enamored of the superficial obligations of the noble life,” Jacoba said with a weak smile.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Markos said. “Is there other news you can share with us?”

“Yes, what news on the Dwarf Wall?” Bleys asked.

Jacoba the Brown explained that recent news coming out of the east was that the Kingdom of Herman Land was now enforcing tougher laws and restrictions upon indentured servants. “It is a kind of de facto slavery, according to the outcry of followers of Nephthys,” she said.

“And this is due to the war effort?” Victoria of Anhur asked.

“Yes… Ostensibly…” Jacoba said.

“Then the Black Islands have already won,” the militant replied.

“Anything more local?” Bleys asked.

There was word of some kind of riot in the harbor district of Sluetelot, a huge brawl involving or amid the dockworkers there, but Jacoba had no details.

As it was Remembrance Day, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland spent the rest of the afternoon in mournful remembrance of friends and family who have fallen in battle, led in prayer by Victoria. In the evening they broke open a bottle of wine and Jacoba arranged for a small cask of ale to be brought to them, as the shared more joyful memories of those brothers-in-arms.

During a quiet moment, Bleys the Aubergine passed on Ethan the Pearl’s letter to Jacoba the Brown and she was very grateful for his effort in delivering it.

The next day Brennis the Outrider arrived on his warpony to take them eastward through what remained of the Border Shires and towards the main road north to Sluetelot. 4

“Look!” Telémahkos uncovered the landshark head to gloat to the halfling guardian.

“What a fearsome beast!’ Brennis declared. “You killed this?”

We did,” Timotheus answered stepping over, putting is fists to his hips.

“Amazing…You must truly be fearless to have slain it,” Brennis said with a smile. 5

Along the way he told them news of House Roose recruiting a band of halfling archers with the blessing of House Kilcullen. They would be joining the fight being taken to the hobgoblins gathering in the Schrabs. Afterwards, Timotheus could not stop jabbering about how they should ride up there and join the fight themselves.

Balem, the 12th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

Four days later the young noble Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland arrived at South Wall, the great barricade that protected the Sluetelot Canal and the town beyond. The days were overcast and the weather was growing cooler, as autumn was arriving. They had ridden past Bog End without stopping, and their travel up the Beach Road was without incident, causing them to jokingly doubt the rumors they had heard of the dangers common to it. 6

As usual, they were allowed to ride past the line of farmers and tradesman waiting to cross Old Town Bridge.

“Names? Business?” The guard at the bridge gate asked, barely paying attention because he noted their noble mean.

“Call us ‘the Sons of Thricia’,” Telémahkos replied. “Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland, and defeaters of a monstrous landshark!” He whipped the blanket off the monster’s head with a dramatic flourish.

“Wow!” Others gathered to have a look and a murmur went through crowd and guards alike.

As they rode over the metal bridge and down into Sluetelot they noticed something strange about the town. There were three stylized pillars painted in a light blue color on various buildings and structures. Some were tall and easily seen, such as those on the brick wall of the bridge support, and others were small and scrawled in various places.

“Excuse me, sir…” Bleys stopped a farmer drawing an ox that they were drawing up with,

“I ain’t no knight,” the old man winked.

“What are these pillars drawn throughout the town?” the watch-mage asked ignoring or not noticing the man’s levity.

“Well, young master… Ain’t ya heard? ‘The Day of the Pillars’ they’re calling it,” the old man said, his watery eyes growing wide. “Everyone woke up early last month and these things were all over town… On the harbor fortress, the bridges, the homes of nobles and from what I hear even some temples… And… If people are to be believed… This happened all over Thricia… At the same time on the same day… But ain’t no one’s been caught… No one knows what it means or who did it or why… At least no one is saying…”

“No rumors? Stories?” Telémahkos asked.

“Well, some folk thing it had something to do with the dockworker’s strike and the brawl that erupted soon after, but I don’t think so…” the man said.

Bleys the Aubergine looked to Laarus of Ra gravely. They made their way to Death & Taxes near the center of Old Town, and noticed more of the stylized pillars drawn here and there, some washed away, but leaving a faint ghost of an outline behind.

Victoria, Timotheus and Tymon agreed to bring the horses out to the stables in New Sluetelot while the others carried the gear up to the suites. Bleys noted a set of pillars painted on the side of Barakis’ house as they did this. 7

Barton Digits greeted them effusively, and in no time he and Telémahkos were making arrangements for the landshark head to be mounted in the common room. It would be a gift to the inn if Barton agreed to put a plaque explaining their bravery below it.

Exhausted, the young nobles collapsed in their beds to catch some rest, over dinner they would meet with Euleria to begin the process of liquidating their loot and determine their next course of action.

End of Session #21


(1) The issue of a name for the group has been an on-going debate both in and out of game, and just before this session there had been a series of emails discussing the issue and later a thread on our messageboards that spilled back and forth between in and out of character reasoning. While no one protested against the adoption of the name ‘the Sons of Thricia’ (not even Victoria), it was more because the topic had grown tiresome and most wanted to drop it, at least temporarily. This would not be last time the issue arose.

(2) Bleys the Aubergine offered to carry the letter in InterSession #18.1 and received it in Session #20.

(3) Remember, Aquerra has a silver standard so twenty-five silver pieces is a significant amount.

(4) Brennis the Outrider led the party through the Border Shires to meet Kermit back in Session #9.

(5) During these naming discussions, it became common for ‘the Fearless Manticore Killers’ to be brought up as an example of a name the players hated that they were stuck with for a time (those who read ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ story hour know the story behind the name and how the party later changed it to a name they came up with themselves, ‘The Keepers of the Gate’). The table burst out laughing when I had Brennis say this, knowing however much of a Rat Bastard DM™ I might be I would not saddle them with the name ‘the Fearless Landshark Slayers’.

(6) The party heard of the dangers of the Beach Road back in Session #2.

(7) Remember, Barakis the Brown’s house is right across the wide street from Death & Taxes.


First Post
el-remmen said:
(5) During these naming discussions, it became common for ‘the Fearless Manticore Killers’ to be brought up as an example of a name the players hated that they were stuck with for a time (those who read ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ story hour know the story behind the name and how the party later changed it to a name they came up with themselves, ‘The Keepers of the Gate’). The table burst out laughing when I had Brennis say this, knowing however much of a Rat Bastard DM™ I might be I would not saddle them with the name ‘the Fearless Landshark Slayers’.
Tim would kill to be part of a group with an awesome name like "the Fearless Manticore Killers".


First Post
Timotheus Smith and his Mystery Men, I love it! Now if only you were a RBDM enough to make that come back to bite them in the butt.

..rubbing hands in anticipation..



Moderator Emeritus
Dearest Readers:

I have an InterSession to post before going on to Session #22, so expect another update by the end of the weekend, however, grad school crunch-time has arrived which means after this next update there will likely not be another one until the end of May or perhaps not even until the beginning of June. My apologies as I have 20 page paper on the political implications of Aelred of Reivaulx's Spiritual Friendship and a 8 to 10 page paper on rap music as contemporary example of 'discursive lyric' to write, and also take my comps on the 3rd. I am even canceling our regularly scheduled session for the week of 9th of May, so tomorrow's session will be the last for a month.

In the meantime, as always, feel free to talk among yourselves. :cool:

-- El-Remmenem


Moderator Emeritus
InterSession #21.1 – “Prelude to Intrigue & Alarm” 1

The buzz of mead and some shots of fine dwarven spirits made Telémahkos’ head waver pleasantly as he leaned against the outhouse wall, relieving himself. Even from within the dark secluded shack behind the inn he could hear the revels of the common room. As usual, the party at Death & Taxes was roaring, with musicians, dancing, furtive groping and card games. Word has gotten around about the slaying of the great landshark, and more than one person had called for him to tell the story as drinks were purchased for him. Despite the ache in his bones from the long journey north, and his sleeping companions up in the suites, Telémahkos could not resist the call to fame.

One particularly lovely lady had asked him to tell her the story more privately, and she awaited him back in the common room. Telémahkos lowered and smoothed his toga, cinching his sash, and was startled as he opened the outhouse door to see a figure standing there.

"You get the best apricots this time of year," Floris Tenbrook said. He was oblivious to the light rain, looking at the piece of fruit in his hand. His other hand rested on the hilt of his rapier. He stood with a casual demeanor, his tall sinewy frame a bit slouched, his cream colored billowing blouse wrinkled and stained in more than one place with a mix of apricot juice and wine. He looked to Telémahkos with a smile, his brown hair slicked back and dotted with beads of rainwater reflecting in the light of the lanterns hanging under the eaves of the inn. "Find any apricots down in the Disputed Territories?"

Telémahkos immediately reached for his rapier, his senses coming to him quickly as a rush of adrenaline burned off his light drunkenness, but relaxed when he saw it was Floris. He smirked and settled for resting his own hand near the hilt of his rapier. Telie's fingers absently traced the intricate filigree of the Steel Whip's basket-hilt.

"Too hot and dry for such things down south. If you wish to walk in this refreshing air, I would be happy to do so but otherwise I am heading inside and away from the lovely scents of the outhouse," Telémahkos answered beginning to move as if making to walk around the inn and away from the area.

"No, no, back here is just fine. No one is going to disturb us," Floris gestured with his head and Telémahkos could see the silhouette of two figures (maybe more) crowding the doorway back into the inn. "No need to worry that we'll be overheard." He turned his back to Telémahkos and took four or five steps along the patch of grass that was adjacent to the brick path leading to the building, and then turned back around, clearly giving Telémahkos the room he needed to get away from the immediate vicinity of the outhouse. He took a big bite of the fruit with a flourish.

"So. . ." Floris said with his mouth full. "I would have thought you would have stayed away longer, what with your failure at the Cove. . ." 2

Telémahkos looked about a bit dramatically as if still worried they might be overheard. He replied in a whisper, "You are thrice bold, friend. First, for admitting your knowledge of the plot, second for telling me I have failed, and third, for the presumed threat of the statement… Be that as it may, I am no assassin not to mention I share the company of a priest of Ra. You have no doubt heard of them before? They are the ones presiding at court and other legal proceedings…" Telémahkos smiled without rancor and continued. “Let’s ignore my disinterest in the arts of villainy and the moral compass of my companions and stick with the facts. When we arrived at the cove it had already been torn apart… By the time we encountered what we sought, we were in sorry shape and our militant of Anhur quickly offered an assurance of truce under the awful circumstances we shared. We then raced off to save the Vanderborn manse as good heroes should…”

Telémahkos straightened himself to look young Tenbrook in the eyes. “So now, good sir, how do we proceed? I want nothing to do with being a lackey and killer. But we still share a common enemy. Shall we consider this a boon that we may benefit from in the future or do we need to waste worry, time and maybe even blood with the fact that you misjudged me?”

"Villainy? Plot?" Floris laughed overloud and now, away from the outhouse, the smell of liquor on the young noble was nearly overwhelming. "My dear, Telémahkos. . ." He draped an arm around Telémahkos's shoulders and slouched with easy affection. "What did you think your were getting involved in? I thought you were interested in playing . . . I thought you wanted to aid yourself, your House and Thricia? I thought you said you were loyal to the Trumpies and interested in getting rid of the Barrel-makers 3 and other foreign influence on our trade and internal business? How do you think it's done?"

He gave another laugh, which bordered on a cough as he slid off Telémahkos and took a few stumbly steps and spun around. "Anyway, it much too late to pull out now, no matter what your excuses are. . . People know you and your friends were there and most assume you did all that killing. . . the question only remains. . . for whom did you do that killing? I am sure each side thinks its for the other. . ."

Telémahkos’ expression grew sardonic. “So each side is trying to figure it out? It would be a shame if in our wake, the trail led to you. What exactly is your point? While I enjoy life and limb, I have little else to lose, and I am pretty certain that with a concerted effort I could make a decent start at making your life pretty miserable before sailing off for one of the quaint kingdoms far, far away…” Telémahkos covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat. “Have you forgotten that I am a ne’er-do-well with a father that is excitedly grooming more suitable heirs? Are you perhaps wondering which of the forty or fifty girls and women I have fΩcked you might hold over my head? I either have weak seed or am exceedingly careful so there are no bastards for me to worry about. Or perhaps you think will win easily. You are so well-connected that you will bring me down without hardly trying, as though you are swatting a gnat, but regardless I will not do your bidding. Any other thoughts?”

Floris Tenbrook laughed so hard he hawked up a big glob of phlegm that ended up hanging off a few blades of grass. "Master Briareus, you have me all wrong! I don't want to do anything to you. I just want to secure your aid, or failing that, I want to warn you that other people and groups will want to see you come to harm." He stood up straight and got more serious. "It wounds me that you would turn against me so quickly when it was you that let us down. . . And, besides, there is little you can say about me or accuse me of that many other people do not already believe to be true of me. . . I would be surprised if it would make much difference. If I had some personal issue with you then I would challenge you to a duel leave you sufficiently humiliated, and take Kilgante's sword, which I see you have taken to wearing rather brazenly…"

Floris took a seat on a nearby stone bench. "The task you were given was given as a means of seeing if you could be trusted, as much as it was about accomplishing it. . . You have to understand, that now your trustworthiness is questioned, and if you go around threatening people with 'talking' it is only going to be cast further into doubt… I want to be your friend, Telémahkos. . . Not your enemy. . ."

“Well, considering what we found at the cove and what we were able to accomplish … if you were with us, you would understand why it is an offense to say we failed. I was not aware of what I was sent to do. While that is a result of my own ignorance, you were aware of this when you sent me, thus, the idea that you and your ‘friend’ sent me off to kill someone obviously the better of me and my companions can look an awful lot like a set up. And as for talking, I would do no such thing unless it became clear that you and your friends were doing the same with our various friends and enemies among the barrels and lanterns and heralds.”

Telémahkos ran a hand through his hair, attempting to look amiable. “Look, I simply refuse to be a pawn. However, if you are the enemy of the one you sent me against, we are certainly on the same side … sort of. But, try to get me to be a killer again, and I doubt things will go well whether with the mission or our working relationship. If that is your only use for me we are at an impasse. However, if there are other ways to work against them I am interested. But forgive me if I believe we are at a point in our relationship where mutual caution seems like the most pragmatic approach.”

He paused, looking at Floris, who held his head as he looked down at the grass listening. “And I am always up for learning a thing or two about fencing if you have any interest in sharing your secrets,” Telémahkos added, not sure how to interpret Floris’ demeanor and trying to add levity.

"You should not assume that I knew what you would be doing when I sent you to our mutual friend," Floris replied, looking up. "I only knew after the fact, and no matter what the reason for your failure to accomplish it, not doing it or convincing your companions to do it leaves you in an unenviable predicament. Our friends will not help you because they feel you let them down and did not see to make an explanation or apology afterwards. The barrel-makers will assume you purposefully disrupted what was happening in the cove, and you wearing the known magical sword of their agent will not help, and finally the lanterns, well. . . the one you let get away is going to tell whatever story about you and your companions that she needs to in order to save her own skin. . ." He sighed and stood again. "I was not trying to set you up. I thought we could count on you the way we used to count on Demosthenes. 4 He never asked questions or shirked his duty. But now you stand alone, and until you make the proper overture to someone . . . be it barrel-maker or trumpie, or even that old pirate-bitch and her lickspittles, you are going to remain that way and you and your companions will remain in peril."

Floris began to step towards the inn. "I hope you make the choice that will allow us to remain friends and become even like brothers . . . but if not, rest assured, that whatever has to happen, will be business. . . " He stopped by the door and turned. "For the sake of appearances, I expect you to buy me at least one drink and play a hand or two cards at my table, though you should wait a few minutes before following me in…"

Telémahkos watched him go and then sat on the bench. He looked up at the night sky and watched the rainfall. A few moments later, he planted a fake smile on his face and headed back into the inn and played the part of the fool for the rest of the night, careful to keep his wits but appearing to recklessly indulge in singing, dancing, gambling and carousing. Affecting an air of noble superiority, he eschewed any romantic encounters in such a away that his arrogance might seem attractive if he should choose to seek out the interested woman once again.

Near dawn he lay down to sleep, but tossed and turned in misery never catching a wink.

End of InterSession #21.1


(1) This InterSession was played out on our messageboards between Sessions #21 and #22. The events therein take place on the night the Signers arrived in Sluetelot.

(2) The party visited Kraken’s Cove and were witness to the immediate aftermath of the massacre there. Telémahkos had been recruited to go there and kill Harliss Javell. See Sessions #6 through #8.

(3) Floris is referring to the Coopers and the Herald’s Guild thieving organizations.

(4) Demosthenes Briareus was one of Telémahkos’ older brothers, presumed killed in the loss of the ship known as The Siren.
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First Post
It looks like Telie may be in a little deeper than he thought he was...

Nemm, good luck with all you finals. I am just finishing grad school and know the kind of stress involved.



Moderator Emeritus
Just a quick note to say I have started working on the updates again amid preparing for my finals (tomorrow and Tuesday), and writing up Session #23 is taking a long time. It is up to 17 pages and I am about 4/5 of the way through. So I hope to be able to post an installment before our next session (Saturday, May 24th), but might even be able to put up two by then.

handforged said:
Is anybody out there?

While this thread was languishing on the 2nd and 3rd pages of this forum, I noticed that the number of page views was going steadily up (nearly 1000 in the last month), which makes me think there are a bunch of lurkers not making themselves known. . . Stand up and be counted!

handforged said:
What do you guys think will happen with Telie and the underworld? Where will the group be off to next?


The next installment will give a little hint as to what will happen with Telie and the underworld. . . but as for where the party is going next. . . No where for a while. . . and you shall see the reason for that as well. . .


Moderator Emeritus
Session #22– “Intrigue & Alarm” (part 1 of 4) 1

Teflem, the 13th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

The next day the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland gathered for brunch in one of the suites, gorging themselves on buttered rolls, eggs and spicy sausage, fritters and beans, and washing it down with fresh apple juice and watered wine. Food tasted so good after their long weeks in the wilderness and eating the strange and bland food of the Ray-Ree.

Earlier in the morning, as the market stalls of the plaza filled up, Bleys the Aubergine went out and used his announce spell. “I am Bleys the Aubergine! Watch-mage. If you have need of my services meet me at Death & Taxes!” The gathering crowds looked at him strangely, though some folks applauded, and line of children followed him at a distance giggling when he did this three more times around the town.

As they ended the meal, still picking here or there, Victoria glowering at Telémahkos who was drinking too much at breakfast, even for him… Euleria arrived in her neat earth tone clothes over her narrow boyish frame, carrying her ledger. She was accompanied by Brand, the party’s porter and Euleria’s assistant. He was a boy of about fourteen summers and one good growth spurt away threatening to become a tall and broad man. He was quiet and clearly unsure of himself, but polite.

There was a ton of logistics to go over. Items had to be reappraised, buyers had to be found, messages needed to be sent out, taxes to be assessed and the share for the noble houses to be determined. Euleria presented them with a detailed list of expenses she had handled in their absence and said she would make an inventory of all the loot they had brought back. She was given access to the vaults the party’s valuables were put in – a service the inn provided at a small fee for its richer guests; a cost covered by the gift of the rented suites from House Tenbrook.

“Have you considered presenting one or more of the things you have recovered as a gift to the University of Thricia or some other institution?” Euleria asked.

“Why would we do that?” Timotheus asked.

“Oh…” Euleria Finch was rarely flustered, but this time she stammered in trying find a polite way to continue. “Well, sometimes nobles who go adventuring… There is a tradition of giving gifts of certain artifacts recovered, whether they be historical in nature or of some exotic or intrinsic beauty that does the recipient honor. It increases the prestige of the institution and also of the giver. I thought the University might be a good place to begin…”

“How about after you do the inventory you make a suggestion of what might make for a good gift and we’ll decide then,” Telémahkos suggested. The others agreed.

“What about the statue?” Markos said.2

“We’ll wait and see,” Victoria replied.

“There was also a message from Lord Falkoner Wetherwax asking you to come visit him regarding an important naval matter?” Euleria informed them. The young nobles all looked at each other.

“A summons?” asked Bleys.

“No, it was not formal,” Euleria replied. “Shall I send word as to when to expect you?”

“Yes, but let us wait until we know how long we be remaining here in Sluetelot,” Bleys replied.

Euleria passed a message on to Timotheus from his father regarding the one that they had sent via Kermit while in the Disputed Territories. 3 It read: Thank you for the warning, son. I am proud of your vigilance and loyalty, but all is under control. Our alliance with House Roose in this matter is leading to a quick end to this hobbo resurgence. Make your name abroad with my blessing, and know that when you do return a place of well-deserved command awaits you. Timotheus whooped and pumped his fist with glee.

“Do we tip you, Euleria?” Tim asked with an unself-conscious smile. “I forget…”

“Um… No sir… That won’t be necessary, I already tipped the messenger,” she replied.

The party discussed their plans to commission various masterwork weapons and armor, 4 and Euleria recommended the dwarven quarter of Old Town. The Achbor Brothers Smithy had an excellent reputation. “Though you may be able to purchase things in the Havesting Smithy, being of noble blood.” Afterwards, Timotheus headed right to the smithy, accompanied by Telémahkos, while Victoria and Laarus headed over to the temple of Anhur. Markos decided to wander the harbor and see what he could find out about the dockworker’s strike and the alleged riot. “If nothing else, I want to smell sea air,” he said, but before leaving he pulled Euleria aside, as Bleys walked over to borrow Brand.

“I am not quite sure how to ask this, uh… Mistress Finch? Uh…”

“Euleria is fine, sir,” the party’s steward replied. “Or Miss Finch, if you must…”

“Oh I mustn’t… I mean, that’s my whole point, I uh…” Markos fumbled. “And you can call me Markos, I mean, if that is alright… If not all right in some situations, I understand… I uh… I am just not very good at this manners and etiquette stuff… As you can see, and I was hoping you might be able to help me learn which fork to use and how to address people… Normally someone of noble blood would get this training from when they were young, but in my case… and so I am often inappropriate since I hate most noble people, anyway…” 5

“Well, I am already giving Brand lessons in etiquette, and I must say he is learning very quickly,” Euleria answered. “But I am sure you would not want to have lessons as the same time as him. It would not be appropriate…”

“No… no! That’s fine! I don’t mind and do not want to monopolize your time,” Markos said, grateful for the opportunity.

Bleys the Aubergine led the young porter into the market where they purchased a bucket of whitewash and a couple of brushes, bringing the purchases back to the home of Barakis the Bold. As they walked through the garden gate, Bleys noticed a silhouette move behind the curtain. There was someone inside. He gestured for Brand to wait by the gate, and he stepped quickly and quietly towards the door, keeping his eyes on the window. There were voices and more than one person within. The door opened and there stood Sir Abberd the Argent.

Bleys’ former master was nearly as tall as his student, with long dark hair and smoky eyes and a well-trimmed beard. His watch-mage’s robes were a silvery-gray lined with white and black. He wore a short sword piece-knotted at his side, but held a gnarled staff in his hand.

“Ah, good! You’re here! We were about to call for you,” Abberd said, smiling and clamping a hand on Bleys’ shoulder drawing him into the house.

“We?” Bleys asked, but as he stepped in he could see who. There stood Leisel of Isis, Darbold the Gay, Garkhan the Green 6, and another bearded man in muted red watch-mage’s robes and cloak of red and white feathers. Bleys thought he looked familiar, but did not quite recognize him.

Garkhan the Green was a slouched old man with a long scruffy iron-colored beard and shaggy hair. He wore sloppy green robes decorated with black embroidered moons and stars. There was a faint odor about him.

“You know Garkhan of course,” Abberd said. “And Leisel and Darbold…” They both smiled, though Leisel’s smile seemed more genuine than the big-grin of the corpulent bard. “And this is Cwell the Carmine… More commonly called ‘the Hawk’.” 7 The tall man nodded in recognition, his looks hidden by his auburn beard, his feathered long hair and a narrow scar that bisected his left eyebrow. He wore a scimitar, and it was clearly his composite bow and quiver resting on the kitchen counter.

“My apologies,” Bleys told the collected spellcasters, with deference. “I thought there were intruders in the house, that is why I came to the door. “If I am unwelcome, I shall leave… I only wanted to whitewash the building as to get rid of the pillars drawn upon it.”

“No! You are wanted,” Abberd’s smile was narrow line of glistening white teeth. “Didn’t I just say we were about to summon you?”

Bleys excused himself for a moment and went back out to Brand, putting him to work while he went back in to confer with the watch-mages and the two members of the Sluetelot council.

“Since you and your companions will be using this place as a headquarters and you are back from whatever adventures you were just on, it has been decided that you are to take Barakis the Brown’s position temporarily… Very temporarily actually, as we have received word that the Academy masters are currently seeking an applicant for the permanent position, but it would count as some of your required service and be a good experience for you.” 8

“I am honored to even be considered,” Bleys replied.

“It would only be for a few weeks at the most,” Leisel added. “The local folks just need a stabilizing force, what with the recent events of the dockworkers strike and the ensuing riot – knowing there is a watch-mage around will do wonders to keep people calm and feel like they are being looked after.”

“Who shall be the permanent replacement?” Bleys asked.

“There are multiple candidates,” Abberd said.

“I accept,” Bleys replied, and Darbold mumbled something about wishing there were someone around with the time to do it who had more experience. Bleys ignored the bard.

“I am sure Leisel and Darbold will give you all the help you need to handle the task before you,” Abberd the Argent said. “And Floris Tenbrook as well… He couldn’t make it, but the temporary appointment has his blessing as well. In addition, Cwell here has offered to remain here for several days to help you through the ropes of what is expect of a stationed watch-mage.”

Cwell the Hawk nodded, and added, “And if you require any arcane training I can help you with that as well.”

“Again, I am honored…” Bleys the Aubergine gave a shallow bow.

“And now I am called to Cyangroenel,” Sir Abberd said. “I am sorry my visit was so brief, but I will stop in on my way back if at all possible.” The master and apprentice shook hands. “Give your niece my best wishes,” Bleys said. 9 Leisel also excused herself, being expected back at the temple of Isis, and Darbold took that opportunity to leave as well. He asked Bleys to walk him to the door.

“I just want to let you know that I was against your appointment,” the bard said. “But, that being said, what concerns me most is the safety of Sluetelot, so if you need any help or have any questions, do not hesitate, I will help you with no bitterness…”

Bleys nodded and shook the bard’s hand firmly. He turned from the door to see Cwell the Hawk rummaging around the shelves of Barakis’ sitting room, as Garkhan made to leave as well.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” Garkhan’s body moved with odd energy. He scratched at his beard and re-adjusted his robes. “Best you downplay your being from Weirspierogen around here. People don’t like it.” 10

“It has not come up yet while I have been here, but I will keep that in mind, Master Garkhan,” Bleys replied. He bid the watch-mage of Weirspierogen adieu, and went to look to see what Cwell was doing.

“There have to be cigars around here somewhere,” the red-robed watch-mage said as he continued to look around. Finally, he stopped and sighed. “Maybe he was out of them when he died… Or Floris came and took them…”

“I paid a visit to you when my companions and I were in Tribunisport, but you were not to be found,” Bleys said. 11

“I believe in being pro-active about my position, I am not around a lot,” Cwell said. “Now… Tell me where you are at in your studies…” And so began a long detailed arcane conversation that would prepare Cwell to train Bleys.

Meanwhile, Telémahkos was laying down for a nap in one of the suites when a knock on the door dragged him up out of encroaching slumber. Earlier he had parted ways with Timotheus after they spent some time in the narrow streets of the dwarven quarter. He had looked into purchasing a new chain shirt, reinforced with dwarvencraft and able to absorb blows better, but did not have the coin currently to pay the down payment. He was able to find someone in the market to paint new heraldry on a shield for him. 12 He left Timotheus having a conversation with an enthusiastic dwarf about making a heavy shield from the resilient hide of the landshark.13

“Maid service.” Telémahkos pulled on his toga, let her in and started walking back to the connecting room. She went over to the table, collecting plates and cups into a basin. Telémahkos spun around when he heard one of the plates shatter against the floor. He hurried over as he saw the maid, a short plump lass, kneeling over the shards of a plate and holding her hand.

“Are you okay?” Telémahkos asked as he knelt in front of her. There was blood streaming from her hand, but she was also holding a smooth oval stone. It was stained with her blood. The young Briareus frowned, as the something seemed odd about the way the maid was crouched. Her housecoat fell open and he saw that she wore leather armor beneath, but he did not also noticed the glint of the dagger in her other hand until it was too late. “What the…?” Telémahkos’ mouth formed the words but no sound emerged. In fact, both he and the maid were enveloped in some form of supernatural silence… If maid she was, for even as the blade came up and he batted it away instinctively, feeling it bite his hands and draw blood, he noticed her flesh begin to twist and change. The excess fat began to melt away and the maid that Telémahkos vaguely recognized became a lithe woman of nearly equal height. Her face was placid as she pulled a short sword from the basin. Telémahkos panicked as the door to the suite swung open. He had not bolted it closed once he let the maid in. There was a taller figure, a man wearing a long coat over a suit of leather armor, short sword in one hand, and the other reaching for a dagger from his bandoleer.

…to be continued…
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Moderator Emeritus

(1) This session was played on Sunday, December 9th.

(2) This refers to the sardonyx statue they found in the secret treasure room in the lair of the Broken Circle (see Session #19), and that was severely damaged by travel and landshark (see Sessions #20, 21).

(3) See Session #16

(4) For Aquerra’s rules on masterwork weapons and armor, click here.

(5) Markos’ player is setting up spending skill points on ranks of Knowledge (etiquette).

(6) Garkhan the Green is the watch-mage of Weirspierogen. Bleys stayed with him for one night in the time between Sessions #8 and #9. (See InterSession #8.7)

(7) Cwell the Carmine is the watch-mage of Tribunisport. Some watch-mages use their ‘color name’ less and less after they graduate from the Academy, taking on other appellations.

(8) Graduates of the Academy of Wizardry are required to do service for the Academy upon graduation to repay the institution.

(9) Sir Abberd the Argent is the uncle of the Margrave Katherine Schemerhorn.

(10) The towns around Drie-Hoek Bay have a long history of feuding that predates Thricia itself.

(11) See Session #5

(12) The heraldry: A copper dragon curled around a mountain on the lower left and a copper portcullis on the upper right - both are copper on black, which is the original heraldry of House Briareus. Telémahkos added, a black cat sitting up, facing left on silver on the upper left and black pips and background around silver dice on the lower right.

(13) This will be a masterwork shield.


Moderator Emeritus
Well. . . We had our first PC death this past Saturday. It was the longest we've ever gone in an Aquerra game I've run without a PC death, and this one seems particularly sudden and unexpected.

I won't spoil it here by identifying the dead person, but industrious readers will eventually be able find out for themselves if they choose to. All I ask is that no one else spoil the identity of the dead member of the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland by posting about it until after the story hour catches up with those events.

And now, another installment. . .


Moderator Emeritus
Session #22– “Alarm & Intrigue” (part 2 of 4)

Telémahkos screamed for help, but there was no sound. He leapt back, twisting to avoid the woman’s blade, crawling and rolling into the adjoining room. As he grabbed the Steel Whip from the table beside his bed, he looked up to see the female assassin leaping on the bed and swinging her blade. The shock of the blow vibrated up his arm as he barely got the rapier in place to block the weapon.

The other assassin came running into the room and Telémahkos winced as his faked thrust was met with blow to the top of the head from the woman. As the other came to close him into the corner, Telémahkos dove through the corner window smashing the shutters as he went tumbling out. He landed with a grunt in a bush in the garden one story below. A group of people walking by towards the market cried out with astonishment, but Telémahkos did not even notice them. He rummaged in his sash and drew out a small clay vial and chugged down its contents. A moment later he was invisible. The man looked out the window for less than a moment, and then he was gone.

Telémahkos hurried around the corner to the entrance of the inn and spied Victoria of Anhur and Laarus of Ra returning from their time at the temple and a quick look around the market. He crept behind them as they entered the inn and went upstairs.

“Odd… Someone forgot to close the door to the suites properly,” Victoria commented when she noticed how easily it pushed open. “Hello?” she called out. She noticed the shattered plate, the basin and the blood. “What happened here?”

“Psst!” Telémahkos hissed as he quietly stepped into the room behind the two priests.

“Yes, Laarus?” Victoria spun around, but the priest of Ra had done the same, a puzzled look on his face.

“That wasn’t me…” Laarus said, turning back around halfway and reaching for his flail.

“It’s me!” Telémahkos hissed.

“Telémahkos?” Laarus’ countenance grew even more puzzled.


“Are you…?” Victoria began, but Laarus cut her off. “Why did you use the potion?”

“I was attacked!” Telémahkos said. He explained what happened; the maid that seemed to change, the magical silence.

“So it was our maid?” Laarus asked, as Victoria walked over to the window and looked out.

“Or someone disguised as her,” Telémahkos answered the priest. “Regardless, they had swords…”

“You there!” Victoria called to someone in a small group pointing to the window. “Did you see anyone running from the inn?”

“I saw someone in a white toga come flying out of the window and then disappear!” the townsperson called back.

“The other one was waiting in the hall? Perhaps they are still hiding nearby!” Laarus of Ra marched into the hall. Telémahkos hung back in the doorway, still flush with the adrenalin of the attempt on his life. He looked around from there, nervously.

Laarus pulled open a linen closet and there was the short round maid, gagged and bound. He checked her hand for a wound, but there was none. “Telémahkos! Unbind her!” The priest commanded and walked over to the door to a set of suites further down the hall.

“Open up in the name of Ra!” Laarus commanded those inside, knocking firmly on the door with his forearm. “Victoria! Check the other suite! That’s an order!” He told the militant as she came into the hall. She nodded and opened the door to the other suite being used by the Signers and began to check it. By this time Telémahkos was crouched over the unconscious waitress, cutting her bonds.

“What is it?” came a voice from the other side of the door Laarus was pounding on.

“Open up!”

“Who is it?” The voice asked with growing concern.

“You can see for yourself when you open the door,” Laarus replied. “I am Laarus of Ra!”

“What’s going on?” The man said as he opened the door. He was a middle-aged man in the clothes of a prosperous merchant, looking a bit bedraggled.

“Anyone else in there?” Laarus asked.

“No… What is happening?” the man asked, confused.

Laarus Raymer did not answer. Instead he stepped across the hall and began to bang on that door, and when no one answered, he broke it open with his shoulder.

“You know… I could unlock those for you if you needed me to…” Telémahkos said, but in that same moment Barton Digits came running up the back stairs. “What in the Nine Hells is going on up here?!”

“One of ours was attacked, up here in the suites,” Victoria replied as she came out of the other suite. It was empty.

“Oh on! That’s horrible! I shall call the watch!” The innkeeper turned to go back down the stairs.

“No, you should wait…” Victoria said. “If the perpetrators are still around the watch might scare them off. I would rather they think they have another chance to attempt their assassination…”

“No, Barton, you are right… Call the watch…” Telémahkos said, still invisible.

“Who? What?” Barton Digits turned towards the disembodied voice, cringing and stepping away.

“It’s Telémahkos Briareus,” Telémahkos said. “I was the one attacked and am keeping out of sight…”

“Oh… OH! My door!” Barton noticed that Laarus had broken down the door to one of the suites as the priest of Ra came out from searching that area.

“Yes, call the watch…” Laarus said. “Do not concern yourself about the door, I will pay to replace it…” Barton hurried down the steps and Victoria followed to check the backdoor and the rear garden for signs of the assassins. There were none. She walked into the common room and saw it mostly empty, except for a few of the afternoon regulars.

Timotheus Smith and Markos Ackers returned in that moment, having met up with each other at The Sign of the Black Sword, a tavern in the ‘bad part of town’ they frequented whenever in Sluetelot.

“Telémahkos was attacked in the suites, the watch are on their way,” Victoria said, ascending the front steps to go back to Laarus and Telémahkos.

“What do you think this was all about?” Markos asked Timotheus, with a smirk.

“Probably a jealous husband…” Tim smiled.

In the suite Telémahkos told his tale once again, and as he did, stopping for frequent questions the potion of invisibility wore off and he was once again visible.

“I think that if someone is trying to kill Telémahkos the best way to catch them is to stage some situation where he appears to be vulnerable,” Victoria said.

“No, that is not what we are going to do,” Telémahkos frowned.

“So what do we do about this?” Victoria asked.

“What are we going do? I’m going to have a new bodyguard, and his name is Tim,” Telémahkos slapped his cousin on the shoulder, and walked around him keeping his arms about his shoulders. “And he’ll be protecting me all the times, and not going off to get laid.” Telémahkos squeezed his cousin’s shoulder in a pinch and Tim slapped at his hand.

“Ow! I have to follow you around now and not get to do anything I want to do?” Timotheus whined.

“Yes…” Telémahkos smirked.

“Bast’s Teats! Fine! But half the time you’re gonna have to follow me around and go where I wanna go!” Tim replied.

“That’s how it works already anyway,” Telémahkos batted Tim in the back of the head playfully.

It was then that the Captain of the Sluetelot Town-Watch arrived.

Captain Angeleen Firth was a plain woman with a freckled nose and fiery orange hair. She wore studded leather armor and the teal cloak that marked her as part of the Sluetelot Town watch. She was accompanied by other watch-men who took up positions at the doors, and left to canvas the common room and market once Telémahkos gave the best description he could of the assassins, and then retold the tale once again to the captain.

“So, Master Briareus, tell me, what have you done to earn the ire of Red Lantern Gang?” Captain Firth asked.

“Is that who attacked him?” Laarus asked.

“The stone he described gives it away,” the captain replied. “Blood magic, and in particular the Blood Stones are a signature of Red Lantern assassins.” She looked at Telémahkos again, obviously suspicious.

“This must stem from the recent trip my companions and I took to Kraken’s Cove,” Telémahkos said. “Some people seem to think we are responsible for the massacre there…”

“If it was the whole group then why did they attack you?” The captain asked.

Telémahkos shrugged. “I was alone? I was the first on the list for some reason? I don’t know…”

Captain Firth was quiet for a long moment. “It was probably the magic of the stone that changed her and created the silence… Someone is going to a lot of effort to have you killed… That would not be an inexpensive hire…”

“We stopped an attack of theirs on Lavinia Vanderboren at the Vandeboren Manse in Quillton, a few months ago,” Laarus added. 1

“My men and I will be looking for word of strangers in town or people asking after you,” the Captain said. “Please stay in town a few days at least in case we need to ask you more questions, and if you have questions, my office is in Havesting.”

“I have question,” Timotheus said, smiling widely, enjoying the movement of her athletic form. “Can I bring you a drink?”

“I am on duty,” she replied coldly. “If there is nothing else…” She began to walk out when Bleys arrived.

“Master Bleys, a pleasure to meet you,” she said walking over and offering her hand. Bleys shook it. “I am Captain Angeleen Firth. It seems there was an attack by the Red Lantern Gang upon one of your number.” She pointed at Telémahkos casually. “I must investigate the matter, so I leave it to your companions to explain, but if there is anything I can do for you while you are here with us do not hesitate to ask.”

When she left, Timotheus said, “She sure was a lot friendlier to you than she was to us…”

“I have been appointed provisional watch-mage of Sluetelot until Barakis The Brown’s replacement arrives,” Bleys said.

“Hey, congratulations!” Timotheus smiled and gave Bleys an approving slap on the shoulder. The young watch-mage was filled in on what had happened, and as usual his response was a quiet one. He asked a few simple questions and then sat down to ponder the situation. One of the serving maids arrived with a tray full of meat pies and pitchers of ale.

“I have some ideas about this, but I am not sure we should talk about them here,” Telémahkos said.

“Why not?” Markos asked.

“They have to do with things we agreed we should not talk about,” Telémahkos replied.

“I do not relish the idea of being overheard when we discuss these things,” Bleys said. “I suggest we walk out to the stables and go for ride in the country. We can talk more freely…”

“My ass still hurts from all those days riding back from the Disputed Territories,” Markos complained, but no one dignified his saddle sores with a response.

It would not be the last time that the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland would ride out for a few hours to discuss the Nine, the Coopers and the Red Lanterns.

On the way, Markos gave Telémahkos the potion of invisibility he had been carrying around. “In case you need one again,” he said.

…to be continued…


(1) See Session #8


Moderator Emeritus
Session #22– “Alarm & Intrigue” (part 3 of 4)

Osilem, the 17th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

The next several days were full of meetings and errands. Euleria Finch was able to dole out shares of the money once she arranged to have some of it converted to the local currency and sold items in the local market. She also advised the party about potential buyers for some of their more rare items, and suggested taking them up on it rather than trying to deal with the expense and worry of transporting examples of goods to other cities and then using messages for bids in hopes of getting better prices. Timotheus stuck close to Telémahkos and the two of them made several trips, occasionally accompanied by Victoria, to the Achor Brothers Smithy in the dwarven quarter to deal with the crafting of their masterwork items. The biggest point of contention was the sardonyx statue, which a local mason was interested in buying for its weight of the precious stone to be used in other projects. If sold as an art object it might earn more coin, but its very size and weight made it inconvenient to sell in a timely way. In the end it was decided to let the mason have it for 1000 pieces of silver. The gold and silver octagon coins from the time of Agon’s Realm were probably the most valuable thing, and they were to be sold to a collector in Lilly City, though the party agreed to keep a couple of examples of both for each of them. These ancient coins would garner them close to 3000 silver pieces to split among them.

The topic of gifting something to the University of Thricia came up again and Markos suggested the two gold masks they had retrieved from the tomb of Dalvan Meir. 1

“Do you think that if we donate the masks we might get special consideration?” He asked Euleria. “I mean, easier access to their libraries and archives? Some kind of membership where we will not have to pay the fees or such?

“Not from one donation,” Euleria replied with mild surprise. “Perhaps if you donated enough for a new building…”

“What about two donations? Markos asked.

“That won’t get you very far towards a building,” Telémahkos snickered.

“Maybe if you build an outhouse…” Bleys said in his even tone.

“You…” Timotheus’ eyes widened and he pointed at the watch-mage. “You just made a joke!”

“An outhouse is a very small building,” was all Bleys said in reply - still no smile or change of tone.

“By the gods! You just told a joke!” Timotheus was flabbergasted.

A couple days after they arrived they were visited by Eubren Winter of Ra who met with Laarus and Bleys to tell them about the concern that Lord Falkoner Wetherwax expressed when given the news about the potential attack on his fleet. 2 Eubren was squarely-built man, a little shorter than average and with big eyebrows that seemed all the bushier in comparison to his glabrous scalp. He also warned Bleys that House Wetherwax were strong supporters of elevating the Winter Family to the status of nobles, and that he would try to reach out to those portions of the family that were distant or estranged. Finally he offered to help Laarus with his meditations on the new powers his faith in Ra was opening up to him, as long as the young priest would pay for the needed sacred materials and make a small donation to the church in his name. 3

Laarus agreed, but asked. “If I may ask, why are you taking the time to help me?”

“I value the establishment of friendships within the order, and I also value what your charter represents and want to help it along in what ways I can,” the dark-eyed priest replied.

During this time Bleys’ own training with Cwell the Hawk began as well. Cwell was staying in one of the smaller rooms downstairs in Death & Taxes, but the daily lessons took place locked away in one of the suite rooms, and sometimes in Barakis’ garden. 4

The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland also went to the temple of Isis to meet with Leisel and tell her of their success in retrieving the Amulet of Fallon, and got to meet High Priestess Amarantha Roorback in the process.

“We need to return the relic,” Bleys said, gesturing for Laarus to pass it over.

The priestess took it in her hands and turned it over with obvious reverence, but then passed it back. “Return it to a temple of Fallon,” she said. “The Fallonites should determine what is best to do with it, but I am honored to even hold it in my hands.”

The closest temple of Fallon was in Lilly City, not too far away. The young nobles decided they would take it over there when Bleys’ duty as temporary watch-mage of Sluetelot was over, though Markos speculated aloud what they might try to get something out of the church in return for presenting it.

“We should honored to just have the opportunity to give it to them,” Laarus said. “To ask for something in return would be impolite and perhaps even sacrilegious…”

“But if they offer us something…” Markos replied.

“That is a different matter,” the priest of Ra said, ending the conversation.

It was also in this time that Tymon had taken off for Azure with Telémahkos’ blessing in order to visit with his family for a while. 5

But one fine Osilem afternoon, when the sun was shining brighter than it had the day before, the autumn growing oddly warmer and warmer, as Markos and Bleys took a trip to meet with Harbormaster Joezef Winter, an appointment Euleria had arranged for them, Telémahkos and Timotheus were visited by Joezyn Barhyte. They met him at a quiet table in the common room and shared drinks and slabs of toasted hard bread with slices of bloody roast beef and wedges of a pungent cheese.

The older man’s hair was bleached, and the rouge on his cheeks and his manner of dress and speech made him seem almost foolish.

“So how were the King Stones? Profitable, I hope?” he asked, smiling.

“A lovely place,” Telémahkos replied, his mood had been subdued since the attempt on his life, and he had recently noticed people avoiding him in the spots he liked to go gamble, though he was not sure if that might have been due to Timotheus being with him all the time.

“Great! Full of goblins! You’d love it!” Timotheus replied, sincere in his enthusiasm. He took the opportunity to tell of some of their battles against the Flor’choo, the wargs and the ogre, leaving out all mention of Hezrah.

“Very good! Very good!” Joezyn smiled. He drank less and ate more than the two younger nobles, but he nodded at everything they said with exaggerated interest. “So, did you get a good sense of resources down there that can aid our fine nation?”

They explained about the friendliness of Ray-Ree. “But in terms of really fertile land, it was really dry or swampy with little in-between,” Telémahkos explained. “Though obviously there were hundreds of miles of lands we did not see, and someone more experienced than any of us in matters of horticulture and irrigation would likely find all the space down there appealing and potentially productive.”

“Good… Good…” Joezyn raised his mug to call for more ale and a serving wench brought over a pitcher. “Thricia will need all the internal resources it can get as the events in the east become more dire and trade becomes even more constricted. The Wizard’s Sea needs to be kept safe from the machinations of organizations that want power within our borders. It is important that we keep our barrels full in order to help not only resist this influence, but take the fight to them and eliminate the danger.”

“Barrels, huh?” Telémahkos’ eyes narrowed, and he search the elder noble’s face for more information. 6

“Yes, barrels… Strong, sturdy, capable barrels that have been performing the task of hold on to our resources and helping to keep Thricia secure for a long time,” Joezyn said. “I mean, we can all start using horns to carry our goods, but that’s inconvenient when you have a lot to carry…”

“Why are you talking about barrels?” Timotheus asked, and Telémahkos gave him a quick elbow to the ribs.

“Oh, we’re just discussing mercantile logistics,” Joezyn replied, still smiling. “Like how when you have a leaky barrel you plug it right away. Leaks are dangerous… Take for example, Stanislaw Torn…” 7

“Sta… Hey!” Timotheus pushed his chair back as Telémahkos’ drink spilled all over his lap before he could complete his thought.

“Who?” Telémahkos asked, risking a look of warning to his cousin.

Joezyn Barhyte leaned in and spoke more softly. “You were told someone would be contacting you and giving you a name and information. I am here to give you that.”

“Who told us what?” Timotheus was confused, but not too confused to fill his mug again. Telémahkos shot him another death look.

”I do not know, and I do not want to know,” Joezeyn replied. “But Stanislaw Torn is the name you wanted. He is the lord of the Black Mantle, a pirate ship of ‘the Hammer’, and can be found in that area from late spring through the summer. But by this time, and if not by this time, then soon, he retires to his tower in the south for the winter.”

“And you were told to tell us this by…?” Telémahkos asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Joezyn replied. “It is sufficient to know that the future safety and prosperity of Thricia is best stored in a barrel, and if times get tight we just need to find new avenues for resources so we may continue to prosper and to be of aid to those who have ever been our friends. Long have the Briarei been involved in these efforts, and now it is going to fall on a younger generation to keep up with it. That number… The number that we should not speak… must be defeated.”

“Uh, who are we talking about again?” Timotheus asked.

Telémahkos gave him another elbow and gestured under the edge of the table where he held out nine fingers for his cousin to see.

“Ohhhhh!” Tim smiled and nodded.

“I had considered inviting Victoria Ostrander to meet with us as her house are also bannermen of House Barhyte, but something told me a young militant of Anhur would not have the finesse needed for dealing with the means by which you are gaining this information,” Joezyn said.

“You made the right decision,” Telémahkos replied.

“If you are to seek him out in the north you need to visit Puntos Negros,” Joezyn explained. “You might be able to catch the Black Mantle there. Otherwise, his tower is in the Kingdom of the Red God of the West, about a day’s ride from the town of Krysia, but the locals would need to help you find it exactly.”

“You’re kidding… In then Kingdom…Not just the Disputed Territories?” Timotheus was skeptical.

“Yep… The Kingdom of the Red God of the West.”

“Is that even legal? I mean, according to their laws? They won’t string us up or anything?” Timotheus asked.

“As long as none of you go around flagrantly using magic, and all of you are human, so you should be safe from angry mobs,” Joezyn replied, his smile returned. “It is a place that has a lot of contact with Thrician Rum Runners. It is used to outsiders. It is not like deeper in the kingdom… In fact, if you are going to go there, I recommend trying to get passage on a ship large enough to accommodate horses, as you probably won’t be able to directly come to shore near the town… What with everything going on in the Devil’s Grasp right now.”

“I thought the Rubes didn’t use horses, won’t that makes us stick out?” Telémahkos asked.

“Like I said, they are used to outsiders there, you should be fine…”

“And this Torn, who exactly is he loyal to?” Telémahkos asked.

“No one but himself,” Joezyn answered. “He once spent time in Vijand, but he’s not welcome there anymore, and he is no friend of that number either, having left them…”

“And he will help us? Tell us more about them… Ways we can foil their plans?” Telémahkos continued with his questions.

“Yes, though he will have to convinced or bribed. It should not be too difficult, no love is lost there. And I recommend that if you want you want to find out more about him you try The Sign of the Black Sword in town.”

“Hey! I know that place!” Timotheus was happy to finally have something to contribute to the conversation.

“Good…Good…” Joezyn Barhyte adopted his acquiescent tone once again. There was a long silence as the three of them ate and drank some more.

“You all sure did make a mess of Kraken’s Cover,” Joezyn finally said. “ Rumors are that you killed everyone there, but I know better than that. You wouldn’t cross the Coopers that way… I know you are loyal sons of Briareus…”

“Here, a souvenir of our journey to the Disputed Territories,” Timotheus said, holding out one of the silver octagon coins the party had recovered from Dalvan’s tomb. “If you had not provided us with the map of the King Stones we never would have gone down there…”

“Thank you,” the older man replied with genuine interest. He held the coin to the light. “Most of these got melted down centuries ago…”

Later as the cousins returned to the suites, Timotheus asked. “What was all this about our family’s involvement in the guilds?”

“Oh, Tim! Let me give you the list of our family’s shady dealings, and don’t think your own father is not involved, because you’d be wrong…” Telémahkos began to untangle the complicated knot for his cousin. Afterwards, they sought out Victoria and went out to the stables to retrieve their horses. They took a long ride out in the countryside and Telémahkos explained to Victoria about the information Joezyn Barhyte had brought, leaving out most of the references to the thieves’ guilds and emphasizing that an elder from their liege house seemed to want them to fight against the Nine.

Meanwhile at the Harbormaster’s office in Havesting, Markos and Bleys found Joezef Winter willing to explain to them all about the dockworker’s strike. The office was at the south end of the harbor near the great gates that closed off access to the Sluetelot Canal from Drie-Hoek Bay beyond. It was as loud and busy as a bazaar and there were a few dozen ships and boats of all sizes, coming and going.

Some rumor had started that all or some of dockworkers were to be replaced by lizardfolk laborers from the City of the Spices; their affinity for water and willingness to take lower wages being listed as the reason for this. After over a week of sudden accidents and work slowdowns, the workers staged a walk out, during which some altercation started with some Weirspierogener mercenaries who had a lizardfolk among their number. At some point sailors joined in the brawl and several watchmen were hurt in quelling the fights. Currently the local gaol was full of dockworkers including their guild representative and foreman, Jeroen Zale.

“And the mercenaries?” Bleys asked.

“Gone,” Joezef replied. “They were on their way up to Rosecote to join up with the forces heading to deal with the hobgoblins in the Shcrabs.” He asked them about their role in the Kraken’s Cove Massacre, and they denied involvement, explaining they had arrived after the vast majority of everyone was dead or transformed into savage frog-men.

“Where did the rumor come from? The one about the lizardfolk?” Markos asked the harbormaster.

Joezef shrugged. “No idea. I do know that there is more trade coming out of the Dry Estates since Agon’s Cold Revenge to make up for the lack coming in from the east and there was general talk of getting more workers on… The only company of lizardfolk dockworkers I know of are in the City of the Spices, and from what I understand, they’re busy…”

“Could it have something to do with these pillars drawn everywhere?” Bleys asked. 8

“I don’t think so… Then again, no one knows what that’s all about, could be just an elaborate prank,” Joezef replied.

“Or something meant to unsettle a populace,” Bleys answered. They talked a bit about Winter family politics and the push to grant them the title of nobility and establish a House Winter. Joezef said he did not care much either way. “I am so low down in pecking order that I probably wouldn’t qualify even if they did decide to draw line all over the family tree and decide who’s noble and who’s not…”

Soon after Joezef Winter ended the meeting, pointing the stack of papers, logs and maps on his desk and the chart of the immense and complicated harbor on the wall. One of his assistants came in and dropped a stack of logs and picked up another.

“That reminds me, while we were in Kraken’s Cove we saw evidence of several ships that might be reported missing, and that we can now confirm have been plundered and destroyed,” Bleys said, pausing as the harbormaster grabbed a ledger and a quill. “We saw the name plates of the Wavereaper, Asmod’s Hope, the Sea Ghost, Dozen’s Cousin, Lavly’s Future, Tiamat’s Wake, and the RMN Sea-Tamer.” 9

He also relayed the news of the sacking of Majenta by the gathered barbarian hordes and of their building boats to continue their rampage south and west.

“Wow! This is news for the dwarf wall!” Joezyn said.

“Yes, but as I will not be in Verdun anytime soon, perhaps you can pass it on to someone who will be,” Bleys replied, and he went on to describe the black angel that killed with a glare and the desecration of a High Temple of the Red God of the West. 10

“Oh, and I was hoping you might know of someone who is selling a sailboat,” Markos asked out of nowhere. Bleys turned and looked at his companion as if surprised, though as usual his face showed no sign of the emotion that his head and shoulders suggested. “Or someone that has a boat I can borrow? I was hoping just to use some of my free time sailing around… Relaxing… And maybe you might have some charts I can look at, navigational charts I can copy?”

Joezef Winter stiffened. “Uh… Most people around here require their boats for their livelihoods. It is unlikely they would be willing to lend it out…”

“I can pay well for the use of it,” Markos added.

“Very well, if I come across a possibility I will send word to you,” the Harbormaster said, now he was herding them towards the door of his office, just by walking in that direction. Bleys the Aubergine thanked his distant cousin and stepped out into the hall.

“And the charts…?” Markos asked, while right in the doorway.

“Have a good afternoon!” Joezef Winter as he closed the door.

Later, back at the inn the young nobles made plans for all of them to take a ride outside of town and discuss what news they had gathered what their next move would be.

…to be continued…


(1) See Session #17

(2) Eubren of Ra agreed to carry this news to Lord Falkoner Wetherwax. See Session #9

(3) He would train Laarus to gain/use his smite evil class ability. (See Priest of Ra Characters)

(4) Barakis’ garden and patio is right across from that of Death & Taxes.

(5) This also a way to get rid of having to deal with an NPC for a while and give the DM a break.

(6) Telémahkos and Joezyn Barhyte were talking a bit in the cant and slang of Thrician thieves.

(7) The party first heard the name ‘Stanislaw Torn’ from the Mind of Oberah in Session #21

(8) The party first heard about the Day of the Pillars and saw evidence of it when they returned to Sluetelot in Session #21

(9) Bleys wrote down the names of these ships while he and the other explored Kraken’s Cove in Session #7.

(10) The party heard this news relayed from the returned Ray-Ree women in Session #16.
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