The Adventures of the Knights of Spellforge Keep
- Thread starter Dr Midnight
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Malachai_rose
First Post
Leave Jamison alone
posted by Wolff96:
"There's no real difference between magical control and getting stoned out of your mind on PCP or LSD in my opinion"
Huh ? So your tellin me when an evil cleric casts confusion on you and you turn around and bitch slap a party member it's your fault and you'd be ok with one of your party memebers killing you because of actions taken while you were under the effects of the spell ?
Lol, being under the control of a charm person or confusion or command spell is NOT the players fault and he should NOT be held responsible for actions he takes while under a magical compulsion.
Next lets talk about how people need to get off of Jamisons jock for a few minutes. He's a player entitled to RP his character any way he sees fit, and as a chaotic nuetral character he's been RP'ing him just fine. Thats what CN is folks a little nutty and somewhat unpredictable.
I personally like Jamison, but regardless I think we need to draw a line with all the pointless Jamison bashing going on. It's starting to cross the line from reader commentary to semi personal attacks on Jamisons player and thats not cool.
This may come come off as a little angry, thats good cause I am a little angry. It bothers me to see people rip into a player that have never even been present for a game session or met the guy face to face. If Dartan's player wants to come here and rip Jamisons player... fine, but last I recall Dartans player hasn't done that. And putting in your post "I don't know the player, nor do I think anything bad of you", yet posting derragotory comments about the guy doesn't work. It's like saying "your a pussy, nothing personal" and being suprised when the guy gets angry about it.
Anyways /rant off I just think people need to remember it's a game (a game in which none of us even play mind you) and give Jamisons likable yet somewhat crazy CN mage room to breathe. The players have already cast their vote by casting Dartan out of the party and keeping Jamison in, to me that speaks volumes...
posted by Wolff96:
"There's no real difference between magical control and getting stoned out of your mind on PCP or LSD in my opinion"
Huh ? So your tellin me when an evil cleric casts confusion on you and you turn around and bitch slap a party member it's your fault and you'd be ok with one of your party memebers killing you because of actions taken while you were under the effects of the spell ?
Lol, being under the control of a charm person or confusion or command spell is NOT the players fault and he should NOT be held responsible for actions he takes while under a magical compulsion.
Next lets talk about how people need to get off of Jamisons jock for a few minutes. He's a player entitled to RP his character any way he sees fit, and as a chaotic nuetral character he's been RP'ing him just fine. Thats what CN is folks a little nutty and somewhat unpredictable.
I personally like Jamison, but regardless I think we need to draw a line with all the pointless Jamison bashing going on. It's starting to cross the line from reader commentary to semi personal attacks on Jamisons player and thats not cool.
This may come come off as a little angry, thats good cause I am a little angry. It bothers me to see people rip into a player that have never even been present for a game session or met the guy face to face. If Dartan's player wants to come here and rip Jamisons player... fine, but last I recall Dartans player hasn't done that. And putting in your post "I don't know the player, nor do I think anything bad of you", yet posting derragotory comments about the guy doesn't work. It's like saying "your a pussy, nothing personal" and being suprised when the guy gets angry about it.
Anyways /rant off I just think people need to remember it's a game (a game in which none of us even play mind you) and give Jamisons likable yet somewhat crazy CN mage room to breathe. The players have already cast their vote by casting Dartan out of the party and keeping Jamison in, to me that speaks volumes...
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Lazybones
Adventurer
Let's face it, the tension between Jamison and Dartan (or Dartan and Vek, for that matter), is/was one of the great things that made this story as compelling as it is. Most good stories have such a dramatic tension to elicit the emotional connections that make it interesting. I just finished the first part of Snicktch's new Spider Queen story, and that tension is there, in that case between a dwarf cleric and the party necromancer. And Wulf's story has it too, with the anti-hero and the halfling (excuse me, I mean the peck).
IMO it's a tribute to Doc's writing, as well as to the skill of his players, that he's able to provoke such debates among the readers regarding the characters.
IMO it's a tribute to Doc's writing, as well as to the skill of his players, that he's able to provoke such debates among the readers regarding the characters.
Dr Midnight
Explorer
Starday, 8th of Patchwall
A knock at the portcullis brought Lem to greet whatever visitor had come to Spellforge Keep. Vek had prohibited Lem from answering the door, but as it happened, no one else was near the front entrance at the time. “What!” He flung open the portcullis greeting-gate and peered through with his unpleasant glare.
Standing there was a young man dressed in a cloak. He had a pale face that looked quick to blush. Bright red hair topped his hair in a shoulder-length, dusty mop. Atop the hair was a plain brown leather cap with a feather. Several belts of varying sizes were wrapped about his waist. The thickest carried a longsword on his left hip. He blinked politely, and asked “Uh, pardon me, m’lord, but I just crossed the river down from Littleberg, up north, and I was wondr’in if ye could tell me if I could find the Nubric family hereabouts…”
“No. Go away.”
“Um…” the visitor looked a bit startled to be greeted this way. “Is this the village o’ Hommlet?”
“No. Go away.”
The man frowned. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t yeh?”
“So you’re asking for help, but you’re insulting me? Not smart.”
Behind Lem, a voice spoke. “Lem, stand aside. I thought we forbade you from answering the door.” Vek opened the portcullis. “Please, come inside. Did you say Hommlet?”
The visitor stepped inside, glanced at Lem, and said “Uh, yes. Hommlet. I’m on my way there now on business, and…” he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
Lem said “He insults me, now he insults the the castle he stands inside as a guest.”
“This is not Hommlet, but we’re actually headed our way within a few days. Would you like to join us? There’s safety in numbers.”
The man glanced at Lem, and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I could use some rest. Quite nice of YOU to offer,” he said pointedly. “My name’s Shamus, but my friends call me Shade.”
“Okay, Shamus,” Lem said. The shot didn’t miss its mark. Shamus gave him another glare, and then was invited by Vek to relax in the dining hall.
Shamus shook Vek’s hand and said “Wuh, feels like shaking my dad’s hand.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
He was brought in and he dumped his pack by the table. He made the rounds and met everyone else. He seemed nice enough to Kizzlorn, despite the look she saw Lem giving him. She asked him why he was traveling to Hommlet.
“Well, I’ve got something to give to the family of a Zerosh Nubric.”
“Who’s that? Old acquaintance?”
“No, my father killed him.” It was clear he had his audience hooked, now, so he began. “It seems my dad was a deadly assassin. Velder Delmorian. He ‘ad a powerful longsword known as ‘Sever’ that was his signature weapon. He’d kill his ‘marks’ with it as his calling card. It’s a vorpal sword- meaning it’s extremely sharp and can sever just about anything. He left a lot o’ headless victims.
“Anyway, things seemed fine. We- my mother and I- thought he was a deep sea fisherman. He’d sometimes be gone for weeks at a time, but that’s a fisherman’s life, and we thought nothing of it. However, things fell apart when my mother found a stash of trinkets that he’d kept from all of his victims. Seems his OTHER calling card was to take one memento from each victim. He’d sometimes take a lock o’ hair, or a piece o’ jewelry. It was to remind him of what he’d done and the life he’d destroyed.
“When my mother, Kirsha, had found out… my father was torn. He’d let her perfect image of him be sullied by his true profession. She was shocked and truly hurt. He saw her weeping and knew she’d never again feel trustful o’ him or loving. This must have driven him somewhat mad, because he killed her. Just drove that sword straight through her. He left my mother's body in the kitchen and slumped into a chair in front of the fire. I’m guessing he’d never felt guilt until that moment, but then, the guilt just flooded him.
“I returned home later that day to find a sword still impaled through my mother. I drew the sword and followed the trail of blood to the armchair. My father stared at me with grave and red-rimmed eyes. I took off his ‘ead with his own sword. He could have easily avoided the swing, but made no effort to move.
“Only after I found the box of evidence was I able to piece together what had happened. I now look for the families that my father has wronged and try to make amends. Right now I’m seeking the Nubric family. I have a ring to return to them. Hopefully they can find peace with his death.”
The table sat silently, and Kizz asked “Why would you tell us all this personal information, straight off? You hardly know us.”
He shrugged. “I figure that if you folks are kind and generous enough to give me a place to sleep and companionship abroad, I owe you the truth straight out. So there ye have it.”
They ate that night, talking and getting to know each other. Lem stayed distant. His eyes twinkled with the fire’s light as he watched this intruder, whom he immediately disliked.
The days passed.
More to come...
A knock at the portcullis brought Lem to greet whatever visitor had come to Spellforge Keep. Vek had prohibited Lem from answering the door, but as it happened, no one else was near the front entrance at the time. “What!” He flung open the portcullis greeting-gate and peered through with his unpleasant glare.
Standing there was a young man dressed in a cloak. He had a pale face that looked quick to blush. Bright red hair topped his hair in a shoulder-length, dusty mop. Atop the hair was a plain brown leather cap with a feather. Several belts of varying sizes were wrapped about his waist. The thickest carried a longsword on his left hip. He blinked politely, and asked “Uh, pardon me, m’lord, but I just crossed the river down from Littleberg, up north, and I was wondr’in if ye could tell me if I could find the Nubric family hereabouts…”
“No. Go away.”
“Um…” the visitor looked a bit startled to be greeted this way. “Is this the village o’ Hommlet?”
“No. Go away.”
The man frowned. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t yeh?”
“So you’re asking for help, but you’re insulting me? Not smart.”
Behind Lem, a voice spoke. “Lem, stand aside. I thought we forbade you from answering the door.” Vek opened the portcullis. “Please, come inside. Did you say Hommlet?”
The visitor stepped inside, glanced at Lem, and said “Uh, yes. Hommlet. I’m on my way there now on business, and…” he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
Lem said “He insults me, now he insults the the castle he stands inside as a guest.”
“This is not Hommlet, but we’re actually headed our way within a few days. Would you like to join us? There’s safety in numbers.”
The man glanced at Lem, and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I could use some rest. Quite nice of YOU to offer,” he said pointedly. “My name’s Shamus, but my friends call me Shade.”
“Okay, Shamus,” Lem said. The shot didn’t miss its mark. Shamus gave him another glare, and then was invited by Vek to relax in the dining hall.
Shamus shook Vek’s hand and said “Wuh, feels like shaking my dad’s hand.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
He was brought in and he dumped his pack by the table. He made the rounds and met everyone else. He seemed nice enough to Kizzlorn, despite the look she saw Lem giving him. She asked him why he was traveling to Hommlet.
“Well, I’ve got something to give to the family of a Zerosh Nubric.”
“Who’s that? Old acquaintance?”
“No, my father killed him.” It was clear he had his audience hooked, now, so he began. “It seems my dad was a deadly assassin. Velder Delmorian. He ‘ad a powerful longsword known as ‘Sever’ that was his signature weapon. He’d kill his ‘marks’ with it as his calling card. It’s a vorpal sword- meaning it’s extremely sharp and can sever just about anything. He left a lot o’ headless victims.
“Anyway, things seemed fine. We- my mother and I- thought he was a deep sea fisherman. He’d sometimes be gone for weeks at a time, but that’s a fisherman’s life, and we thought nothing of it. However, things fell apart when my mother found a stash of trinkets that he’d kept from all of his victims. Seems his OTHER calling card was to take one memento from each victim. He’d sometimes take a lock o’ hair, or a piece o’ jewelry. It was to remind him of what he’d done and the life he’d destroyed.
“When my mother, Kirsha, had found out… my father was torn. He’d let her perfect image of him be sullied by his true profession. She was shocked and truly hurt. He saw her weeping and knew she’d never again feel trustful o’ him or loving. This must have driven him somewhat mad, because he killed her. Just drove that sword straight through her. He left my mother's body in the kitchen and slumped into a chair in front of the fire. I’m guessing he’d never felt guilt until that moment, but then, the guilt just flooded him.
“I returned home later that day to find a sword still impaled through my mother. I drew the sword and followed the trail of blood to the armchair. My father stared at me with grave and red-rimmed eyes. I took off his ‘ead with his own sword. He could have easily avoided the swing, but made no effort to move.
“Only after I found the box of evidence was I able to piece together what had happened. I now look for the families that my father has wronged and try to make amends. Right now I’m seeking the Nubric family. I have a ring to return to them. Hopefully they can find peace with his death.”
The table sat silently, and Kizz asked “Why would you tell us all this personal information, straight off? You hardly know us.”
He shrugged. “I figure that if you folks are kind and generous enough to give me a place to sleep and companionship abroad, I owe you the truth straight out. So there ye have it.”
They ate that night, talking and getting to know each other. Lem stayed distant. His eyes twinkled with the fire’s light as he watched this intruder, whom he immediately disliked.
The days passed.
More to come...
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Re: Leave Jamison alone
Absolutely. If there are no non-violent solutions viable, then the good of the party dramatically outweighs the good of one character. It's a game about having fun as a group of players. If something bad happens to my character because the alternative is the group being hurt, then kill me.
Besides, you missed the entire point I was trying to make: that Jamison's systematic interaction with EVERYTHING in the Temple is deliberately destructive -- just like taking hallucenogenic drugs when you KNOW the possible side effects is.
Hello? You do realize this is a game, right? I said absolutely nothing derogatory about Jamison's player. I don't care for the character he chose to play. Actually, I admire the guy for having the cajones to go through RttToEE deliberately trying to get his character killed -- but I certainly would not enjoy being in a party with that character. And that's the point I made.
Saying that I don't like the character that a person has created has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings about that person. There's a difference between a person and their character. Here's hoping you realize that disconnect and just didn't express your point very well.
I'm not going to further derail Dr. Midnight's storyhour -- which I really enjoy -- with this. I do not care for characters that are destructive to the party, such as Jamison Crow. That's my opinion.
---------------------------------
Looking forward to the conclusion of the Witches' Lamp, Doc... Keep up the great work.
In a way, this kind of conflict *does* prove how good the story hour is -- if we didn't care about it, we wouldn't argue about it.
Malachai_rose said:
Absolutely. If there are no non-violent solutions viable, then the good of the party dramatically outweighs the good of one character. It's a game about having fun as a group of players. If something bad happens to my character because the alternative is the group being hurt, then kill me.
Besides, you missed the entire point I was trying to make: that Jamison's systematic interaction with EVERYTHING in the Temple is deliberately destructive -- just like taking hallucenogenic drugs when you KNOW the possible side effects is.
Hello? You do realize this is a game, right? I said absolutely nothing derogatory about Jamison's player. I don't care for the character he chose to play. Actually, I admire the guy for having the cajones to go through RttToEE deliberately trying to get his character killed -- but I certainly would not enjoy being in a party with that character. And that's the point I made.
Saying that I don't like the character that a person has created has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings about that person. There's a difference between a person and their character. Here's hoping you realize that disconnect and just didn't express your point very well.
I'm not going to further derail Dr. Midnight's storyhour -- which I really enjoy -- with this. I do not care for characters that are destructive to the party, such as Jamison Crow. That's my opinion.
---------------------------------
Looking forward to the conclusion of the Witches' Lamp, Doc... Keep up the great work.
In a way, this kind of conflict *does* prove how good the story hour is -- if we didn't care about it, we wouldn't argue about it.
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Zelda Themelin
First Post
Nice story.
Oh, and I happen to like Jamison. Without him, whole story would have been much more boring. Jamison just acts dangerously curious. He seems more like DM's plot tool, than player character to me, however.
Not all players prefer nice games, where group totally fights as one against the challenges DM chooses to make them face.
I've played a lot with groups, that enjoy much more colorful (and not always nice) character relations, and 'fun of group' would be ruined if someone forced them to co-operate all the time.
IMO there is nothing wrong with Dartan's behavior either. Nevermind that Jamison acted under evil possession, it's Jamison's face Dartan recalls smiling over his friends' deaths even though it wasn't really Jamison.
Of, course it's still hating the wrong thing, but Dartan might be right about excepting something like that taking hold of Jamison again. Of course, Dartan might as well fall for evil himself, haunted by bitter memories and all-consuming lust for revenge. That would be likely, considering how nastily he has acted recently.
Mmh, anyway, hopefully you all enjoy the game, and I will read on the following adventures as they are presented here.
Except for those riddles.
Oh, and I happen to like Jamison. Without him, whole story would have been much more boring. Jamison just acts dangerously curious. He seems more like DM's plot tool, than player character to me, however.
Not all players prefer nice games, where group totally fights as one against the challenges DM chooses to make them face.
I've played a lot with groups, that enjoy much more colorful (and not always nice) character relations, and 'fun of group' would be ruined if someone forced them to co-operate all the time.
IMO there is nothing wrong with Dartan's behavior either. Nevermind that Jamison acted under evil possession, it's Jamison's face Dartan recalls smiling over his friends' deaths even though it wasn't really Jamison.
Of, course it's still hating the wrong thing, but Dartan might be right about excepting something like that taking hold of Jamison again. Of course, Dartan might as well fall for evil himself, haunted by bitter memories and all-consuming lust for revenge. That would be likely, considering how nastily he has acted recently.
Mmh, anyway, hopefully you all enjoy the game, and I will read on the following adventures as they are presented here.
Except for those riddles.
Endur
First Post
Glasses of Hindsight 20/20
Jamison needs a pair of Glasses of Hindsight 20/20.
These glasses allow the wearer to see what could go wrong.
When the wearer spends two minutes studying a suspected trap(takes 20 on a search check), the wearer sees a visual image of the effect of the trap going off.
He sees the snake biting his face and draining life, he sees himself turning to evil and slaughtering party comrades, he sees the Titan rising out of the water and destroying Verbobonc, etc.
Glasses of Hindsight 20/20 do not tell you how to defeat a trap, they just tell you how what the bad effect of the trap could be.
A Rogue wearing the glasses gets a +2 competence bonus to Disable Device checks if he takes the time to study the trap.
The glasses do not help the user find a trap, only if a trap is there and the user spends the time to study the trapped spot will the negative effect be seen. Nor will the glasses show the user what triggers the trap.
Glasses of Hindsight 20/20 might solve some of Jamison's curiousity problems.
Tom
Jamison needs a pair of Glasses of Hindsight 20/20.
These glasses allow the wearer to see what could go wrong.
When the wearer spends two minutes studying a suspected trap(takes 20 on a search check), the wearer sees a visual image of the effect of the trap going off.
He sees the snake biting his face and draining life, he sees himself turning to evil and slaughtering party comrades, he sees the Titan rising out of the water and destroying Verbobonc, etc.
Glasses of Hindsight 20/20 do not tell you how to defeat a trap, they just tell you how what the bad effect of the trap could be.
A Rogue wearing the glasses gets a +2 competence bonus to Disable Device checks if he takes the time to study the trap.
The glasses do not help the user find a trap, only if a trap is there and the user spends the time to study the trapped spot will the negative effect be seen. Nor will the glasses show the user what triggers the trap.
Glasses of Hindsight 20/20 might solve some of Jamison's curiousity problems.
Tom
Dr Midnight
Explorer
Freeday, 14th of Patchwall
The first day of the festival came.
The group decided they’d not go without costumes- the sign clearly stated “Wear a costume”, and in case they needed to blend in, they made the appropriate adjustments. Shade wore a homemade costume he’d thrown together that resembled a pig-faced demon. Lem polymorphed himself into a halfling farmboy. No one in the Knights would have understood the irony- except for Snooky, who muttered “Plocky!” from Kizz’s knapsack. Kizz added illusionary faerie wings to her back. Vek chose to remain in his current “costume”: a fierce black set of full-plate demonic armor. It should serve well as a frightful costume by any reckoning, he guessed.
The group readied their things and assembled in the main room. First, Vek scried the area and found a good area to appear. Then, Lem teleported everyone to an alley in Hommlet. The spell went off without a hitch, and they were suddenly just… there.
It was mid-morning. The dew had evaporated from the grass, but the town was only sluggishly getting to the final details in decorating. The Knights walked out into town. Vek was the only “person” who’d actually been here before, and immediately he noticed great changes.
What was once a respectably self-sufficient little village was now a much grander region- a full-fledged city. The buildings were taller. The streets were cobbled, and no longer just great paths of packed dirt. The people wore finery and jewelry, every one. There were no poor. There were no rats. There were no hovels. The economy of the farming community had flourished in the twenty-one years since the Temple of Elemental Evil fell. Had they made this money on putting down their plows and forming a tourist trade from their tragic past? The thought was uncomfortable… or at least, it would have been to Vek, if he had cared at all. Mostly, he was inwardly congratulating them on turning something bad into something profitable.
The town’s decorations were thematic, and the theme was fear. Orange and black banners and streamers were being strung from and along every rooftop and signpost. The color combination was not lost on Vek: these were the colors of the clerics of Tharizdun. Their robes had been orange and black… and, to Vek’s surprise, he found himself staring at one in a shop window. “Evil cleric robes, 50 gold” was the sign mounted in front of a wooden mannequin dressed in the robes. Around its neck was the triangular black pendant of the Elemental Eye. In the window’s corner was painted a wispy cobweb.
An enormous half-orc stood nearby, holding a greatsword. In his other hand was one of the flyers advertising the town’s festivities. He looked at the group, held up the paper, and said “Where this?”
Kizz looked at it and said “What… do you mean the Fear’s Eve festival?”
“Yeah. I wanna go. Popcorn’s there.”
“Uh. You’re there. I mean- you’re here. Here is where the festival is.”
“Oh. Where’s popcorn?” His greatsword fell clumsily from his hand, and clanged to the ground. He bent and picked it up.
Shade leaned over and whispered “Are you sure we should be talking to this fellow? Looks dangerous.”
Kizz shrugged and said “He seems pleasant enough.”
“I’m pleasant!” the delighted half-orc cried out. He wandered off and sat in front of a puppet show with a group of children. He laughed and pointed when one puppet whacked another with a stick.
Gnome illusionists cast spells on buildings and areas of town. One was making a cloud of bats appear over a chapel. One was giving the nearby graveyard skeletal green hands to reach up from the cemetery moss. One was setting up a booth. It looked like this one meant to cast his illusions on people. For a fee, she’d make you look like whatever you wanted.
Other costuming goods and services were available. A roadside vendor was selling potions that would alter your form, and more mundane items such as disguise kits. His most expensive item was a small supply of Hats of Disguise. Vek thought for a moment and bought one. He put it on and changed from a fully-armored fearsome warrior to a handsome if dangerous looking man with dread black hair flowing over his shoulders.
“This,” he laughed, “is what I once was.”
“I’ve got a real feeling that the clerics of the Elemental Eye are back and behind… something,” murmured Kizz. “We should do some questioning.”
Shade said “I’ll be sure to ask for you… I’m off to see the Nubrics.”
“Good luck, Shade,” she replied as she waved goodbye. “I hope things go well.”
He walked off smiling and waved back. “Bye, and thanks for everything. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He found his way to Fallcrest street, number 95. This was a run-down little magic shop with a weathered wooden sign reading “Zerosh Nubric, scrolls, potions and magic services”. The shop was closed, though it was almost eleven in the morning. The windows were dusty and cracked. It looked as though the shop had been closed for some time. Shade knocked on the door leading to the second story of the building.
After a moment, an elderly woman came down. “Yes?” she said as she cracked the door open just a little.
“Mrs. Nubric?”
She hesitated. “…yes.”
“I have something for yeh.” Shade unwrapped a piece of burgundy cloth and held it in his hand. In it was a ring. “This belonged to yer husband, I believe. I want ye to know that his murderer has been found and justice has been served. He is dead.”
The woman took the ring from him and her eyes quivered. “Oh,” she said. “This… this was his wedding ring. I can’t…” she sobbed. “You say the man who did it is dead? Good. Good.” She clutched the ring to her chest.
“I hope that this may bring yeh some measure of peace,” Shade said.
“Yes. He- it was awful. Finding him like that. How can I ever thank you?”
Shade tipped his hat. “Well, I didn’t want for a reward, ma’am, but I’d be obliged if yeh could tell me a couple of things about the town.”
“Certainly. Anything you want to know.”
“That’s kind o’ ye. I was wondrin’… why do you think your husband was assassinated?”
She darkened, and looked nervous. “He never said, but he hinted that he suspected something. Something about some recent deaths among city council members. He died before he told me, but I’ve always felt it had something to do with why he died.”
“Hmm. And after that, the magic shop didn’t stay open?”
“No. I know nothing about scrolls and potions, all that… That was Zerosh’s specialty. I had to sell out all his stock and close the shop. Still, we get by. The town’s affluent enough now, what with the tourism.”
“And how long has the town been doin’ this Fear’s Eve festival?”
She thought. “Not long… it only popped up in the last five years or so. The whole town loves it. People come from miles around to celebrate.”
“Has anything odd been goin’ on or seen round here, since then?”
“No. The local clergy preaches against a celebration of things stemming from demons and devils, but the townsfolk see no real harm in it. My own children run some of the haunted house events on main street.”
Shade smiled and tipped his hat again. “Well, that’s all I wanted to ask, ma’am. Thanks for your time.”
“No thank you…”
“Shade,” he answered as he walked away. “Goodbye, Mrs. Nubric.”
“Goodbye, Shade, and thanks again.”
More to come...
The first day of the festival came.
The group decided they’d not go without costumes- the sign clearly stated “Wear a costume”, and in case they needed to blend in, they made the appropriate adjustments. Shade wore a homemade costume he’d thrown together that resembled a pig-faced demon. Lem polymorphed himself into a halfling farmboy. No one in the Knights would have understood the irony- except for Snooky, who muttered “Plocky!” from Kizz’s knapsack. Kizz added illusionary faerie wings to her back. Vek chose to remain in his current “costume”: a fierce black set of full-plate demonic armor. It should serve well as a frightful costume by any reckoning, he guessed.
The group readied their things and assembled in the main room. First, Vek scried the area and found a good area to appear. Then, Lem teleported everyone to an alley in Hommlet. The spell went off without a hitch, and they were suddenly just… there.
It was mid-morning. The dew had evaporated from the grass, but the town was only sluggishly getting to the final details in decorating. The Knights walked out into town. Vek was the only “person” who’d actually been here before, and immediately he noticed great changes.
What was once a respectably self-sufficient little village was now a much grander region- a full-fledged city. The buildings were taller. The streets were cobbled, and no longer just great paths of packed dirt. The people wore finery and jewelry, every one. There were no poor. There were no rats. There were no hovels. The economy of the farming community had flourished in the twenty-one years since the Temple of Elemental Evil fell. Had they made this money on putting down their plows and forming a tourist trade from their tragic past? The thought was uncomfortable… or at least, it would have been to Vek, if he had cared at all. Mostly, he was inwardly congratulating them on turning something bad into something profitable.
The town’s decorations were thematic, and the theme was fear. Orange and black banners and streamers were being strung from and along every rooftop and signpost. The color combination was not lost on Vek: these were the colors of the clerics of Tharizdun. Their robes had been orange and black… and, to Vek’s surprise, he found himself staring at one in a shop window. “Evil cleric robes, 50 gold” was the sign mounted in front of a wooden mannequin dressed in the robes. Around its neck was the triangular black pendant of the Elemental Eye. In the window’s corner was painted a wispy cobweb.
An enormous half-orc stood nearby, holding a greatsword. In his other hand was one of the flyers advertising the town’s festivities. He looked at the group, held up the paper, and said “Where this?”
Kizz looked at it and said “What… do you mean the Fear’s Eve festival?”
“Yeah. I wanna go. Popcorn’s there.”
“Uh. You’re there. I mean- you’re here. Here is where the festival is.”
“Oh. Where’s popcorn?” His greatsword fell clumsily from his hand, and clanged to the ground. He bent and picked it up.
Shade leaned over and whispered “Are you sure we should be talking to this fellow? Looks dangerous.”
Kizz shrugged and said “He seems pleasant enough.”
“I’m pleasant!” the delighted half-orc cried out. He wandered off and sat in front of a puppet show with a group of children. He laughed and pointed when one puppet whacked another with a stick.
Gnome illusionists cast spells on buildings and areas of town. One was making a cloud of bats appear over a chapel. One was giving the nearby graveyard skeletal green hands to reach up from the cemetery moss. One was setting up a booth. It looked like this one meant to cast his illusions on people. For a fee, she’d make you look like whatever you wanted.
Other costuming goods and services were available. A roadside vendor was selling potions that would alter your form, and more mundane items such as disguise kits. His most expensive item was a small supply of Hats of Disguise. Vek thought for a moment and bought one. He put it on and changed from a fully-armored fearsome warrior to a handsome if dangerous looking man with dread black hair flowing over his shoulders.
“I’ve got a real feeling that the clerics of the Elemental Eye are back and behind… something,” murmured Kizz. “We should do some questioning.”
Shade said “I’ll be sure to ask for you… I’m off to see the Nubrics.”
“Good luck, Shade,” she replied as she waved goodbye. “I hope things go well.”
He walked off smiling and waved back. “Bye, and thanks for everything. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He found his way to Fallcrest street, number 95. This was a run-down little magic shop with a weathered wooden sign reading “Zerosh Nubric, scrolls, potions and magic services”. The shop was closed, though it was almost eleven in the morning. The windows were dusty and cracked. It looked as though the shop had been closed for some time. Shade knocked on the door leading to the second story of the building.
After a moment, an elderly woman came down. “Yes?” she said as she cracked the door open just a little.
“Mrs. Nubric?”
She hesitated. “…yes.”
“I have something for yeh.” Shade unwrapped a piece of burgundy cloth and held it in his hand. In it was a ring. “This belonged to yer husband, I believe. I want ye to know that his murderer has been found and justice has been served. He is dead.”
The woman took the ring from him and her eyes quivered. “Oh,” she said. “This… this was his wedding ring. I can’t…” she sobbed. “You say the man who did it is dead? Good. Good.” She clutched the ring to her chest.
“I hope that this may bring yeh some measure of peace,” Shade said.
“Yes. He- it was awful. Finding him like that. How can I ever thank you?”
Shade tipped his hat. “Well, I didn’t want for a reward, ma’am, but I’d be obliged if yeh could tell me a couple of things about the town.”
“Certainly. Anything you want to know.”
“That’s kind o’ ye. I was wondrin’… why do you think your husband was assassinated?”
She darkened, and looked nervous. “He never said, but he hinted that he suspected something. Something about some recent deaths among city council members. He died before he told me, but I’ve always felt it had something to do with why he died.”
“Hmm. And after that, the magic shop didn’t stay open?”
“No. I know nothing about scrolls and potions, all that… That was Zerosh’s specialty. I had to sell out all his stock and close the shop. Still, we get by. The town’s affluent enough now, what with the tourism.”
“And how long has the town been doin’ this Fear’s Eve festival?”
She thought. “Not long… it only popped up in the last five years or so. The whole town loves it. People come from miles around to celebrate.”
“Has anything odd been goin’ on or seen round here, since then?”
“No. The local clergy preaches against a celebration of things stemming from demons and devils, but the townsfolk see no real harm in it. My own children run some of the haunted house events on main street.”
Shade smiled and tipped his hat again. “Well, that’s all I wanted to ask, ma’am. Thanks for your time.”
“No thank you…”
“Shade,” he answered as he walked away. “Goodbye, Mrs. Nubric.”
“Goodbye, Shade, and thanks again.”
More to come...
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