thatdarncat
Overlord of Chat
So what's the new module?
-
NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Zad/Wizardru's Story Hour (*final update 11/12*)
- Thread starter Zad
- Start date
Argent Silvermage
First Post
Glyf and Astrid's excellent adventure.thatdarncat said:
I think we're using the book of erotic fantasy.
Argent Silvermage
First Post
But... As an Artificer... The gadget selection alone...*dang*dravot said:
/Glyphandar falls to the sound of Mariss with a frying pan.
Zad
First Post
Frozen Elegy - Chapter 1
Frozen Elegy – Chapter 1
OOC Notes:
Exp is 1500 for 7th, 1750 for 6th.
This adventure marks a departure from the Shackled City Adventure Path. Wizardru, for his own nefarious reasons, has chosen to insert this adventure. The naïve reader might think this is for plot development, character background development and to ensure the party is at the at the correct level for subsequent adventures, but anyone who thinks that clearly hasn’t read the DM’s prior works.
Loot take from Zenith Trajectory for the record is 6,784 gp plus the reward from the dwarves (4,000 gp cash or 6,000 in dwarven-crafted goods.)
This Week’s Adventure:
The first order of business was a good night’s rest. The next was the disposal of all the assorted plunder from the temple. Elizabeth was becoming increasingly proficient at dealing with the various merchants of Cauldron and if you didn’t know she was a farm girl you might have thought she’d been doing it for years. Anyone dealing with the merchants couldn’t help but hear the grumbling about the tax increases, nor could they miss the near constant presence of tax collectors and their escorts. But for all the increased taxes, there was no sign of any improvements or repairs being done. There were more guards to be sure – some of the tax collector’s thugs were mercenaries from the girl’s last campaign – but that was the only outward sign of where the money was going. The taxes were not limited to the middle or lower classes – Cauldron’s elite were being taxed even harder and were quite irritated according to all accounts.
Everyone spent a week or so pursuing their business or spending some of their money. I was wondering why the tax collectors had not yet paid a visit to the Blue Tygers – an event which would certainly not go well. Perhaps it was the fact that they were not citizens or residents of the city per se, or perhaps it was due to the fact that much of their gains was being poured back into the local economy and therefore was taxed on that end. Whatever the reason, I was glad it hadn’t happened. I doubted that anyone would take kindly to being taxed, especially after rendering such services to the city. Given the way Cauldron seems to attract trouble, running the Blue Tygers out of town would seem to be an unwise move.
And in all the after-adventure tales, no one ever said anything about the dragon. Thank the gods.
A few days later, a small service was held for Tzaddik. Jenya conducted the service but it was in a small garden with none of the usual trappings of St. Cuthbert. Whatever business Ramir had with him, he never mentioned it. He seemed overwhelmed with his share of the proceeds from the mission, but that didn’t stop him from accepting it. A private discussion among the Tygers later revealed that no one had any issues with him so far, and if he was inclined, he could perhaps join the group on their next mission.
After a week or so, a boy brought a message to the Drunken Morkoth. It was from Tygot and said he had something the group might find interesting.
“Well let’s go see what it is,” Glyph said.
“No,” Elizabeth said flatly. “At least not yet. It’s just after lunch. Tygot usually naps around now. Give it a couple hours and then we’ll go.”
“You’re getting to know these people entirely too well,” Glyph said.
After waiting a few hours, Elizabeth, Glyph, Maris and I went to Tygot’s shop. As expected he had the appearance of a halfling who had just woken up.
“Ah excellent. How are you? Care for some tea?” he said, welcoming them. Once the pleasantries were satisfied, he moved to business.
“I’ve come across something you may find interesting. You had shown me some keys you recovered from the Malachite Fortress – I believe I’ve come into possession of the rest of the set. I received them from a contact in Hollowsky who frequently finds more unusual items and sends them on to me. He was on a trip through the south and came across a wrecked caravan. It had been attacked – merchants and guards slain and so on – but by what he couldn’t say. In the wreckage he found these keys. When I saw them I thought of you – I can’t imagine they’d be of much interest to anyone else.”
Tygot pulled out a small box in which were three keys. The motif was unmistakably the same as the four we had. “The glyphs here, and here, appear to be giantish.”
Astrid looked at them closely “You’re right. I speak giantish and I hadn’t even really noticed until you pointed it out. Looks like numbers – very stylized but definitely there.”
Tygot beamed a bit. “The hands of the demons seem to indicate the numbers of the previous and following keys in the sequence. Otherwise they’re nearly identical except for some slight variations in the faces of the demons.”
“Well, we’re definitely interested in them. What can we offer you for them?” Elizabeth asked.
Tygot waved his hand. “Oh, very little. I would only ask that you cover the costs of the transportation and such – you’ve been very good for business and I doubt anyone else would be interested in them.”
“Easily done,” Elizabeth smiled.
“There is one other odd thing I noticed,” Tygot said. He pulled out a small magnifying lens and pointed at spots on the keys “Here, you see, and here? Those small nubs and holes – I’m not sure what they’re for. They’re in different places but I doubt they have anything to do with it being a key. It could be casting marks but I don’t think so.”
“Well, worth looking into. But it so happens we know the local locksmith, perhaps he will have some thoughts,” Astrid said.
On the way to Keegan’s shop we picked up the rest of the keys so we’d have the full set on hand. Gelve’s shop had new hours posted, and they were a fairly short but luckily he was open when we arrived.
The shop itself seemed disheveled. Boxes were lying about carelessly, and the whole place has an unkempt feel that it hadn’t before. Keygan came from the back, wearing his usual stilts, and got immediately nervous.
“Oh, um, hello… look if you were planning… that is to say it’s been caved in… the Stormblades…”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Please, be calm. We’re here to consult with the town’s foremost locksmith, nothing else. Are you alright?”
“Oh,” he said calming considerably. “Alright? Well, tired I suppose. You know, the judgment and all.”
“Judgment?” Maris asked.
“Oh, I suppose you don’t.” Keygan handed over a rolled up parchment. It was an order from Captain Skellerang, endorsed by Jenya. It was a summary judgment against Keygan for his complicity in the whole kidnapping affair. As his punishment he was required to replace all the locks in the city, while not bankrupting himself. The city would pay for the locks, but not the labor.
“It’s fair, just quite a lot of work,” Keygan said. “But what can I do for you today?”
Elizabeth laid out the keys on the countertop. “We had come across part of this set earlier and the remaining keys just came to us. We wanted your opinion.”
Keygan began a thorough examination of the keys. “Hm, black iron, no magic, clumsy work. Not made by a locksmith, no no… more like a blacksmith trying to make do. They were all made together, probably forged. The design on one side is stronger than the other – probably poured from a mold then shaped further from there. It’s trying to look like it’s of infernal make – they’re of that style – but their actual origin isn’t nearly so exotic. “
After a bit he said “The construction itself isn’t that secure. You can learn more from looking at the key than the lock I always say. I can make you a master that would probably open, oh, four of them at a time. So with a couple masters you could simulate them all. I’m not sure what this script along the spine is…”
“Script?”
“Here along the edge,” Keygan pointed out. “I don’t recognize it – maybe some infernal language since that’s the style they were imitating.”
“We thought it was decoration,” Astrid said and looked closer. “I’ve been studying infernal languages lately… yes it is infernal. Kur… Khurlog. In praise of Khurlog. I don’t recognize that word – I think it’s a name.”
There were variations on other keys. “To strengthen the tribe”, “In the name of the Order”, “Praise of Nabthateron”, “The music must be silenced”.
“You may want to see what Weir can make of them. He’s an expert in infernal devices,” Keygan suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Elizabeth said. “In the meantime, I think some master keys might be a good idea. I’d like to commission those.”
“Of course,” Keygan said. “I can have them ready, oh, tomorrow I should think.” With that he began taking notes, measurements and impressions of the keys.
Once he was done we gathered up the keys and took them to Weir’s Elixers. Weir was in, and immediately took to dressing down Maris.
“Young lady you should know that your ‘adventures’ will not be considered adequate excuse for missing your potions assignments.” Maris was wisely quiet and deferential, even though she didn’t realize she had new assignments from Weir.
We told him we were here for a consultation and he took us up one level to a more cordial sitting area. He examined each key as it was laid out.
“Hm, less than 800 years old clearly. Not of infernal make but in the infernal style. I believe they originated on the Prime. Khurlog… yes…” He took down a book from a shelf and flipped through it, finding what he wanted. “Yes, as I thought. Khurlog was a giant. There are ruins of his fortress in the mountains south of Hollowsky. Frost giants, yes. They were a mighty tribe eight or nine centuries ago. There’s been no recent activity but of course rumors always persist. There have been no expeditions there that I know of. But these keys could originate there. Plenty of black iron in those hills.”
Then he began staring at the keys as a group. After a few moments he began moving them around on the table, laying keys on top of each other. The nubs and holes apparently served to interlock the keys together in a complex pattern. It took him some shuffling about before he found two that locked in and then he began laying in others. Finally he had the keys all interlocked in a circular arrangement like a summoning circle. With the keys in this pattern, some of the infernal scripting was covered up, forming a new message.
“Praise Jarl Khurlog, he who has silenced the music and saved the order and served Nabthateron.”
“The manufacture of these keys is quite simple, but the interlocking rather complex. They must have had an important function,” Weir remarked. “Beyond that I can’t say much. No charge for the consultation however – you brought something interesting and I am intrigued. If you find anything further about these keys I trust you’ll share it with me?”
“Absolutely,” Astrid said.
“You may also wish to consult with Priestess Jenya. She is well schooled in history and may be of some help.”
As we left Weir’s shop, there were sounds of a scuffle up the street and the unmistakable sound of wood hitting flesh. Then coming out of a modest house, we could see tax collectors carrying a sack full of some kind of poultry.
Astrid glanced at Elizabeth, who looked concerned.
I don’t like the looks of that Astrid thought. I’m going to check it out.
Good idea, Elizabeth replied.
I recognized my cue and went with Astrid. Inside the house was a woman holding a rag to a man’s bleeding head. They were bread merchants who were behind on their taxes and so the thugs took the chickens as payment. Astrid gave the couple a few gold to help them along, and in following days proceeded to try to encourage folks like the innkeeper at the Morkoth to buy from the couple.
The others went to the Temple to see Jenya. They were welcomed inside and were shown to Jenya’s study. Jenya was along and welcomed them warmly.
When the mystery of the keys was explained, Jenya examined them. “It resembles a binding circle,” she said. “It has no power on its own, but it’s more like a blueprint. How odd.”
She then checked her sources on Khurlog, reading from a history book. “Khurlog. A frost giant commander under Nabthateron. He and his forces retired from the field before the invasion of Redgorge. He was reported dead. He was the head of an order – the Order of the Black Kibe. Apparently the fortress was found to be abandoned after Spellmason vanquished Nabthateron.”
At that point Brother Duos entered with an urgent message for Jenya from Lord Valantruu, and the group took their leave and returned to the Drunken Morkoth for dinner.
While eating, one of Tyro’s “associates” came in and headed upstairs. Elizabeth caught his eye and waved him over.
“Sorry to bother you but have you ever heard of The Smoking Eye?”
He paused briefly. “Perhaps we should discuss that in private.”
“Ah,” she said. “We’ll be along shortly.”
After dinner was done, a few of the Tygers went up to Tyro’s room. He was wary, asking “Where have you heard of The Smoking Eye?”
They proceeded to recount each instance where it had been mentioned during their trip to the Underdark.
“Interesting,” Tyro said. “We have heard of it but know little. It started to come up about a year ago. There was a monk near Redgorge who had a gift for prophecy and he began saying incoherent things about it. Three months later a homeless man began raving about smoking eyes and flaming feathers and chains. Only the phrasing seemed familiar, but there was little else. A month later a drunken man mentioned The Smoking Eye before killing himself, jumping off the rim of the caldera. In all I have about fifteen instances of various monks, hermits, prophets, and madmen mentioning it. One of them drew this picture,” and he showed an image of an unusual half skull icon.
There was little else to know for now, so the group retired. The morning brought a new messenger, this time from Captain Skellerang, requesting an envoy. Astrid, Kris and Bellsin went, and on their return they said that there have been a number of attacks on the southern roads. Some kind of reptile dogs or some such – the guard lieutenant didn’t seem to put much stock in it. But they were offering a bounty for us to go check it out and for any pelts we return with.
“If we’re going south anyway, perhaps we should check out this ruined fortress and see if the keys have some function,” Elizabeth said.
“Interesting,” Kris said. “But we have no notion where this fortress is. Hunting for it in the mountains isn’t likely to be easy.”
“Well, what about the mapmaker? He may have a map that shows the location,” Glyph said.
It only took a brief visit to acquire a map of the southern areas, including the location of the ruined fortress.
“So how do we get there? Hollowsky is a long way to walk, and getting horses in the mountains will be difficult,” Bellsin asked.
“Good point. Horses are hard to come by in Cauldron anyway,” Astrid said.
Elizabeth had a thought. “Let’s try this from another angle. Merchants are being attacked. So we offer to escort a caravan that’s going to Hollowsky in exchange for the ride. What merchant wouldn’t like an escort from the Blue Tygers?”
It was a clever idea, and Elizabeth began checking her contacts. Luck was with us as it turned out Lady Ophella Knowlern was returning to Hollowsky with various brewing goods. She was not only the owner of the Cusp of Sunrise but the Drunken Morkoth as well, and welcomed the escort. She was polite, but appropriately distant to all save Maris, whom she insisted ride in the carriage with her, no doubt as a result of the girl’s station.
So it’s not enough that trouble always finds us. Now we have to go looking for it.
Frozen Elegy – Chapter 1
OOC Notes:
Exp is 1500 for 7th, 1750 for 6th.
This adventure marks a departure from the Shackled City Adventure Path. Wizardru, for his own nefarious reasons, has chosen to insert this adventure. The naïve reader might think this is for plot development, character background development and to ensure the party is at the at the correct level for subsequent adventures, but anyone who thinks that clearly hasn’t read the DM’s prior works.
Loot take from Zenith Trajectory for the record is 6,784 gp plus the reward from the dwarves (4,000 gp cash or 6,000 in dwarven-crafted goods.)
This Week’s Adventure:
The first order of business was a good night’s rest. The next was the disposal of all the assorted plunder from the temple. Elizabeth was becoming increasingly proficient at dealing with the various merchants of Cauldron and if you didn’t know she was a farm girl you might have thought she’d been doing it for years. Anyone dealing with the merchants couldn’t help but hear the grumbling about the tax increases, nor could they miss the near constant presence of tax collectors and their escorts. But for all the increased taxes, there was no sign of any improvements or repairs being done. There were more guards to be sure – some of the tax collector’s thugs were mercenaries from the girl’s last campaign – but that was the only outward sign of where the money was going. The taxes were not limited to the middle or lower classes – Cauldron’s elite were being taxed even harder and were quite irritated according to all accounts.
Everyone spent a week or so pursuing their business or spending some of their money. I was wondering why the tax collectors had not yet paid a visit to the Blue Tygers – an event which would certainly not go well. Perhaps it was the fact that they were not citizens or residents of the city per se, or perhaps it was due to the fact that much of their gains was being poured back into the local economy and therefore was taxed on that end. Whatever the reason, I was glad it hadn’t happened. I doubted that anyone would take kindly to being taxed, especially after rendering such services to the city. Given the way Cauldron seems to attract trouble, running the Blue Tygers out of town would seem to be an unwise move.
And in all the after-adventure tales, no one ever said anything about the dragon. Thank the gods.
A few days later, a small service was held for Tzaddik. Jenya conducted the service but it was in a small garden with none of the usual trappings of St. Cuthbert. Whatever business Ramir had with him, he never mentioned it. He seemed overwhelmed with his share of the proceeds from the mission, but that didn’t stop him from accepting it. A private discussion among the Tygers later revealed that no one had any issues with him so far, and if he was inclined, he could perhaps join the group on their next mission.
After a week or so, a boy brought a message to the Drunken Morkoth. It was from Tygot and said he had something the group might find interesting.
“Well let’s go see what it is,” Glyph said.
“No,” Elizabeth said flatly. “At least not yet. It’s just after lunch. Tygot usually naps around now. Give it a couple hours and then we’ll go.”
“You’re getting to know these people entirely too well,” Glyph said.
After waiting a few hours, Elizabeth, Glyph, Maris and I went to Tygot’s shop. As expected he had the appearance of a halfling who had just woken up.
“Ah excellent. How are you? Care for some tea?” he said, welcoming them. Once the pleasantries were satisfied, he moved to business.
“I’ve come across something you may find interesting. You had shown me some keys you recovered from the Malachite Fortress – I believe I’ve come into possession of the rest of the set. I received them from a contact in Hollowsky who frequently finds more unusual items and sends them on to me. He was on a trip through the south and came across a wrecked caravan. It had been attacked – merchants and guards slain and so on – but by what he couldn’t say. In the wreckage he found these keys. When I saw them I thought of you – I can’t imagine they’d be of much interest to anyone else.”
Tygot pulled out a small box in which were three keys. The motif was unmistakably the same as the four we had. “The glyphs here, and here, appear to be giantish.”
Astrid looked at them closely “You’re right. I speak giantish and I hadn’t even really noticed until you pointed it out. Looks like numbers – very stylized but definitely there.”
Tygot beamed a bit. “The hands of the demons seem to indicate the numbers of the previous and following keys in the sequence. Otherwise they’re nearly identical except for some slight variations in the faces of the demons.”
“Well, we’re definitely interested in them. What can we offer you for them?” Elizabeth asked.
Tygot waved his hand. “Oh, very little. I would only ask that you cover the costs of the transportation and such – you’ve been very good for business and I doubt anyone else would be interested in them.”
“Easily done,” Elizabeth smiled.
“There is one other odd thing I noticed,” Tygot said. He pulled out a small magnifying lens and pointed at spots on the keys “Here, you see, and here? Those small nubs and holes – I’m not sure what they’re for. They’re in different places but I doubt they have anything to do with it being a key. It could be casting marks but I don’t think so.”
“Well, worth looking into. But it so happens we know the local locksmith, perhaps he will have some thoughts,” Astrid said.
On the way to Keegan’s shop we picked up the rest of the keys so we’d have the full set on hand. Gelve’s shop had new hours posted, and they were a fairly short but luckily he was open when we arrived.
The shop itself seemed disheveled. Boxes were lying about carelessly, and the whole place has an unkempt feel that it hadn’t before. Keygan came from the back, wearing his usual stilts, and got immediately nervous.
“Oh, um, hello… look if you were planning… that is to say it’s been caved in… the Stormblades…”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Please, be calm. We’re here to consult with the town’s foremost locksmith, nothing else. Are you alright?”
“Oh,” he said calming considerably. “Alright? Well, tired I suppose. You know, the judgment and all.”
“Judgment?” Maris asked.
“Oh, I suppose you don’t.” Keygan handed over a rolled up parchment. It was an order from Captain Skellerang, endorsed by Jenya. It was a summary judgment against Keygan for his complicity in the whole kidnapping affair. As his punishment he was required to replace all the locks in the city, while not bankrupting himself. The city would pay for the locks, but not the labor.
“It’s fair, just quite a lot of work,” Keygan said. “But what can I do for you today?”
Elizabeth laid out the keys on the countertop. “We had come across part of this set earlier and the remaining keys just came to us. We wanted your opinion.”
Keygan began a thorough examination of the keys. “Hm, black iron, no magic, clumsy work. Not made by a locksmith, no no… more like a blacksmith trying to make do. They were all made together, probably forged. The design on one side is stronger than the other – probably poured from a mold then shaped further from there. It’s trying to look like it’s of infernal make – they’re of that style – but their actual origin isn’t nearly so exotic. “
After a bit he said “The construction itself isn’t that secure. You can learn more from looking at the key than the lock I always say. I can make you a master that would probably open, oh, four of them at a time. So with a couple masters you could simulate them all. I’m not sure what this script along the spine is…”
“Script?”
“Here along the edge,” Keygan pointed out. “I don’t recognize it – maybe some infernal language since that’s the style they were imitating.”
“We thought it was decoration,” Astrid said and looked closer. “I’ve been studying infernal languages lately… yes it is infernal. Kur… Khurlog. In praise of Khurlog. I don’t recognize that word – I think it’s a name.”
There were variations on other keys. “To strengthen the tribe”, “In the name of the Order”, “Praise of Nabthateron”, “The music must be silenced”.
“You may want to see what Weir can make of them. He’s an expert in infernal devices,” Keygan suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Elizabeth said. “In the meantime, I think some master keys might be a good idea. I’d like to commission those.”
“Of course,” Keygan said. “I can have them ready, oh, tomorrow I should think.” With that he began taking notes, measurements and impressions of the keys.
Once he was done we gathered up the keys and took them to Weir’s Elixers. Weir was in, and immediately took to dressing down Maris.
“Young lady you should know that your ‘adventures’ will not be considered adequate excuse for missing your potions assignments.” Maris was wisely quiet and deferential, even though she didn’t realize she had new assignments from Weir.
We told him we were here for a consultation and he took us up one level to a more cordial sitting area. He examined each key as it was laid out.
“Hm, less than 800 years old clearly. Not of infernal make but in the infernal style. I believe they originated on the Prime. Khurlog… yes…” He took down a book from a shelf and flipped through it, finding what he wanted. “Yes, as I thought. Khurlog was a giant. There are ruins of his fortress in the mountains south of Hollowsky. Frost giants, yes. They were a mighty tribe eight or nine centuries ago. There’s been no recent activity but of course rumors always persist. There have been no expeditions there that I know of. But these keys could originate there. Plenty of black iron in those hills.”
Then he began staring at the keys as a group. After a few moments he began moving them around on the table, laying keys on top of each other. The nubs and holes apparently served to interlock the keys together in a complex pattern. It took him some shuffling about before he found two that locked in and then he began laying in others. Finally he had the keys all interlocked in a circular arrangement like a summoning circle. With the keys in this pattern, some of the infernal scripting was covered up, forming a new message.
“Praise Jarl Khurlog, he who has silenced the music and saved the order and served Nabthateron.”
“The manufacture of these keys is quite simple, but the interlocking rather complex. They must have had an important function,” Weir remarked. “Beyond that I can’t say much. No charge for the consultation however – you brought something interesting and I am intrigued. If you find anything further about these keys I trust you’ll share it with me?”
“Absolutely,” Astrid said.
“You may also wish to consult with Priestess Jenya. She is well schooled in history and may be of some help.”
As we left Weir’s shop, there were sounds of a scuffle up the street and the unmistakable sound of wood hitting flesh. Then coming out of a modest house, we could see tax collectors carrying a sack full of some kind of poultry.
Astrid glanced at Elizabeth, who looked concerned.
I don’t like the looks of that Astrid thought. I’m going to check it out.
Good idea, Elizabeth replied.
I recognized my cue and went with Astrid. Inside the house was a woman holding a rag to a man’s bleeding head. They were bread merchants who were behind on their taxes and so the thugs took the chickens as payment. Astrid gave the couple a few gold to help them along, and in following days proceeded to try to encourage folks like the innkeeper at the Morkoth to buy from the couple.
The others went to the Temple to see Jenya. They were welcomed inside and were shown to Jenya’s study. Jenya was along and welcomed them warmly.
When the mystery of the keys was explained, Jenya examined them. “It resembles a binding circle,” she said. “It has no power on its own, but it’s more like a blueprint. How odd.”
She then checked her sources on Khurlog, reading from a history book. “Khurlog. A frost giant commander under Nabthateron. He and his forces retired from the field before the invasion of Redgorge. He was reported dead. He was the head of an order – the Order of the Black Kibe. Apparently the fortress was found to be abandoned after Spellmason vanquished Nabthateron.”
At that point Brother Duos entered with an urgent message for Jenya from Lord Valantruu, and the group took their leave and returned to the Drunken Morkoth for dinner.
While eating, one of Tyro’s “associates” came in and headed upstairs. Elizabeth caught his eye and waved him over.
“Sorry to bother you but have you ever heard of The Smoking Eye?”
He paused briefly. “Perhaps we should discuss that in private.”
“Ah,” she said. “We’ll be along shortly.”
After dinner was done, a few of the Tygers went up to Tyro’s room. He was wary, asking “Where have you heard of The Smoking Eye?”
They proceeded to recount each instance where it had been mentioned during their trip to the Underdark.
“Interesting,” Tyro said. “We have heard of it but know little. It started to come up about a year ago. There was a monk near Redgorge who had a gift for prophecy and he began saying incoherent things about it. Three months later a homeless man began raving about smoking eyes and flaming feathers and chains. Only the phrasing seemed familiar, but there was little else. A month later a drunken man mentioned The Smoking Eye before killing himself, jumping off the rim of the caldera. In all I have about fifteen instances of various monks, hermits, prophets, and madmen mentioning it. One of them drew this picture,” and he showed an image of an unusual half skull icon.
There was little else to know for now, so the group retired. The morning brought a new messenger, this time from Captain Skellerang, requesting an envoy. Astrid, Kris and Bellsin went, and on their return they said that there have been a number of attacks on the southern roads. Some kind of reptile dogs or some such – the guard lieutenant didn’t seem to put much stock in it. But they were offering a bounty for us to go check it out and for any pelts we return with.
“If we’re going south anyway, perhaps we should check out this ruined fortress and see if the keys have some function,” Elizabeth said.
“Interesting,” Kris said. “But we have no notion where this fortress is. Hunting for it in the mountains isn’t likely to be easy.”
“Well, what about the mapmaker? He may have a map that shows the location,” Glyph said.
It only took a brief visit to acquire a map of the southern areas, including the location of the ruined fortress.
“So how do we get there? Hollowsky is a long way to walk, and getting horses in the mountains will be difficult,” Bellsin asked.
“Good point. Horses are hard to come by in Cauldron anyway,” Astrid said.
Elizabeth had a thought. “Let’s try this from another angle. Merchants are being attacked. So we offer to escort a caravan that’s going to Hollowsky in exchange for the ride. What merchant wouldn’t like an escort from the Blue Tygers?”
It was a clever idea, and Elizabeth began checking her contacts. Luck was with us as it turned out Lady Ophella Knowlern was returning to Hollowsky with various brewing goods. She was not only the owner of the Cusp of Sunrise but the Drunken Morkoth as well, and welcomed the escort. She was polite, but appropriately distant to all save Maris, whom she insisted ride in the carriage with her, no doubt as a result of the girl’s station.
So it’s not enough that trouble always finds us. Now we have to go looking for it.
Last edited:
thatdarncat
Overlord of Chat
mmmm update.
I have to say, this storyhour has been a big inspiration for me in my own game. I've been trying to build a world that the PCs inhabit, instead of one they hack and slash through. The Blue Tygers' adventures in Cauldron have taught me a lot.
I have to say, this storyhour has been a big inspiration for me in my own game. I've been trying to build a world that the PCs inhabit, instead of one they hack and slash through. The Blue Tygers' adventures in Cauldron have taught me a lot.
Zad
First Post
Two bits from my still-addled mind: (Been sick all week)
A world that feels real is a laudable goal, and at times an elusive one. It requires several things.
First, your material has to provide you with the necessary depth - that or you have to go make it up yourself. Sure the latter is possible but your workload is lower the first way.
Second, you have to execute it well. Good material in the hands of a DM who doesn't use it is useless. And even the best DM can have a hard time making bad material work.
Third, your players have to have some level of buy-in and try to work with it. A group that wants to hack and slash doesn't care about tax collectors, they just want someplace to dump their loot. It's joint storytelling so you can't have half the team on board.
One of the biggest things I think contributes to the feeling of a real world (and some readers have heard us say this often) is that actions should have consequences. Both good and bad, there needs to be cause and effect and it has to be visible to the players. If they aren't punished for unfavorable actions, there's no reason to avoid them or to think before you act. If they aren't rewarded either, then there's no reason to try - they feel that the story is just playing out around them regardless of what they do. (Ravenloft II anyone?) Players shouldn't feel like spectators, generally speaking.
A rehash for many of you for sure - TdC I'm sure knows all this for instance
But I think those are the key ingredients to making the world feel like it's more than just "Shop 24 sells magic items."
Shackled City seems to put a lot of emphasis on vendor relationships. I recognized it right away and have gotten better at rubbing elbows effectively in this area. (Not that it's a strong suit of my skills/character, just that I keep the notes/records, and therefore loot falls under that. So we chose to roleplay it more than doing a lot of bluff/appraise checks.)
A world that feels real is a laudable goal, and at times an elusive one. It requires several things.
First, your material has to provide you with the necessary depth - that or you have to go make it up yourself. Sure the latter is possible but your workload is lower the first way.
Second, you have to execute it well. Good material in the hands of a DM who doesn't use it is useless. And even the best DM can have a hard time making bad material work.
Third, your players have to have some level of buy-in and try to work with it. A group that wants to hack and slash doesn't care about tax collectors, they just want someplace to dump their loot. It's joint storytelling so you can't have half the team on board.
One of the biggest things I think contributes to the feeling of a real world (and some readers have heard us say this often) is that actions should have consequences. Both good and bad, there needs to be cause and effect and it has to be visible to the players. If they aren't punished for unfavorable actions, there's no reason to avoid them or to think before you act. If they aren't rewarded either, then there's no reason to try - they feel that the story is just playing out around them regardless of what they do. (Ravenloft II anyone?) Players shouldn't feel like spectators, generally speaking.
A rehash for many of you for sure - TdC I'm sure knows all this for instance
But I think those are the key ingredients to making the world feel like it's more than just "Shop 24 sells magic items."Shackled City seems to put a lot of emphasis on vendor relationships. I recognized it right away and have gotten better at rubbing elbows effectively in this area. (Not that it's a strong suit of my skills/character, just that I keep the notes/records, and therefore loot falls under that. So we chose to roleplay it more than doing a lot of bluff/appraise checks.)
thatdarncat
Overlord of Chat
Consequences are only part of that tho. The players need to CARE before they worry about the consequences of their actions.
The vendor relationships were one of the first things I started working on for my current game. It seems to give my players more of an attachment to the game when they know that if they take their gems to "Herold" He'll give them a good price for the lot. They care that said NPC appreciates their business. Extend that to other contacts (temples, sages, etc) and they start to care when those NPCs need help or ask the party to look into something.
This way when they don't follow up on a plot and the shop girl who was nice to them suffers horribly for helping them, they care.
The vendor relationships were one of the first things I started working on for my current game. It seems to give my players more of an attachment to the game when they know that if they take their gems to "Herold" He'll give them a good price for the lot. They care that said NPC appreciates their business. Extend that to other contacts (temples, sages, etc) and they start to care when those NPCs need help or ask the party to look into something.
This way when they don't follow up on a plot and the shop girl who was nice to them suffers horribly for helping them, they care.
Argent Silvermage
First Post
We missed a game this week. Zad was dealing with a major cold and I'm getting over Congestive Heart Failure. We will play this weekend so wish us luck and hope we aren't killed by the horrors of this next adventure.
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