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Message: <blockquote data-quote="airwalkrr" data-source="post: 3763148" data-attributes="member: 12460">What follows is my rendition of the events of the module WG8: The Fate of Istus. Although not a very popular series of adventures, it is special in that it gives a taste of the width and breadth of the Flanaess. It is also one of the first examples of an "Adventure Path" with an epic scope. So sit back and enjoy, as I give you The Fate of Istus."Zilchus be poor!" Gedric exclaimed as he and his friend Padree stopped running to catch their breath, "that vendor nearly had us!""I know," his tawny young companion replied, "that was a close one, Ged."The two guttersnipes stood hunched over, their hands on their knees, glancing every moment or so over their shoulder to make sure the large man from the bread cart who had been chasing them had not followed. They were fast friends with nothing in the world but each other, and it was a treasured possession indeed in the City of Ravens where thieves ruled and no one could be trusted. Ever since they could both remember they had been together. Virtually all that they knew about where they came from was that Padree's father had come from the Baklunish West and Gedric's whore of a mother had lived in Rookroost all of her short, miserable life.Padree had vague memories of losing sight of her father in a local market and never seeing him again, but she was so young at the time that the details had never been clear. She remembered shouting, and something large obscuring her view, but that was all. Gedric's story was much simpler. Raised in a whorehouse with his mother, he had been thrown out after being caught stealing food one too many times from Drady, his mother's pimp. His mother never put up much of a protest, and so Gedric had lived the rest of his life on the streets. He met Padree shortly after being "evicted" and the two had been close ever since.The scamps seemed safe. For now at least, the angry man with the large, bushy black beard was nowhere in sight. The alley provided relative privacy and they both salivated at the thought of their prize, half a loaf of pumpernickel Padree had swiped while Gedric had distracted the owner of the cart by pretending to be ill."You got it?" the boy asked his companion.The gril grinned and produced from inside her shirt the savory half of a loaf of bread. "Sure do," she replied, "couldn't have done it without you amusing that old pidgeon.""Aw, it weren't nothin'," the boy responded with a chuckle, "you're the one who bit the blow.""Enough talk," the girl demanded, "here's your share," she said, dividing the spoils and handing him part.They dove into their meal with gusto, voraciously chomping at the soft, warm bread, barely stopping to chew, let alone savor the flavor. No sooner had they begun to enjoy the feast however, than it was rudely interrupted by a pitiful soul wallowing in the corner of the alley. The fellow was in dire straits, covered in rent garments and sporting splotchy red pustules on his face and hands. It looked as if he barely had the strength to move, but it seemed he had mustered up enough to speak."Please young ones," he whispered to them hoarsely, "might I garner a bit of crust from that marvelous loaf, or would you at least provide this woeful wretch a drink from the fountain?""Bugger off you filthy canter!" Padree managed to spurt out in between generous mouthfuls, not even bothering to look at the poor beggar.The man just wheezed for a moment, but suddenly his voice exploded in newfound anger, "Why you inconsiderate prigs!" he screamed, "you bastards of euroz! I hope you choke on that ill-gotten meal and die in this alley!"It was then that Gedric noticed the man's sores. As the invalid hurled spiteful invective against them, Ged's jaw sagged and his eyes grew wide. His friend, still not bothering to look over at the screaming supplicant noticed his less than dedicated attention to his food and reminded him to finish, else she would finish for him."Pad," he said under his breath after loudly gulping the bite he had been chewing, "he's got it.""Got what?" she barely managed to utter through the great quantity of pumpernickel filling her mouth.It was then that she finally got a glimpse of the beggar in the corner. At the first sight of his crimson sores, she ejected the food from her mouth and let out a horrified shriek. At that point the two pubescent pickpockets forgot all about their empty bellies and fled in terror. The man had "it." That is to say, the Plague. The Red Death. The dreadful disease that had ravaged the city for months. It had claimed the lives of hundreds, some said thousands, and the funeral pyres were lit day and night to purge the city of the infected bodies. The beggar they had seen was in the final stages of the debilitating sickness, barely able to move, and sure to see the Reaper very soon. Suffice it to say, the youths were running for their very lives.</blockquote>

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