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

[el-remmen]

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

-------------------------------------------------------
Notes:

(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.

 

[handforged]

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.

~hf

 

[handforged]

Is anybody out there? What do you guys think will happen with Telie and the underworld? Where will the group be off to next?

~hf

 

[el-remmen]

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.

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!

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

~hf

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. . .

 

[el-remmen]

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…

 

[el-remmen]

--------------------------------------------------------
Notes:

(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.

 

[handforged]

Yikes! This doesn't seem to be going well. At least Darbold is being honest about his disapproval.

~hf

 

[el-remmen]

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. . .

 

[el-remmen]

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.

“Yes!”

“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…

----------------------------------------
Notes:

(1) See Session #8

 

[el-remmen]

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…

------------------------------------------------------
Notes:

(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.