DM Bigrin's Second Darkness (Inactive)

Game Master bigrin42

A foul omen looms in the sky over the scoundrel city of Riddleport, an ominous shadow that defies the light. Is it a curse laid millennia ago by forgotten mages? Does it forewarn against the return of some terrible foe? Or does it portend a terrible


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Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

Anklebiter scuttles along with Bruendor with the tireless energy of a Goblin, but directed to a goodly purpose instead of mayhem. He casts his cantrips to break up wood and stone at Bruendor's direction and adds his own, meagre strength to the Dwarf's. While he gets as dirty as his comrade, it is less evident on his already less than pristine outfit.

There is less and less occasion for the Goblin to grin as the day progresses. He helps pull the stiffening, empty-eyed bodies from the wreckage and quietly straightens their limbs if he can, closes their eyes and mutters a brief prayer to Pharasma to collect the souls of the deceased, then moves on.

Suddenly Minky, who has been scouting ahead despite the fact that her own energy has been waning as the day and the work continue, comes back shrieking and leaping. She jumps up on the Goblin's head, runs around his shoulders, and then goes leaping back the way she came. Anklebiter gives Bruendor a wordless look before he goes loping off after his familiar.

Minky leads the two of them to another collapsed house; one of the many little harbourside shanties. Anklebiter's ears twitch at a tiny little noise from beneath the lumber, and he looks to Bruendor again to say a single word. The word's tone, however, is quite urgent: "Baby." The Goblin starts pulling pieces of wood off the top of the pile, moving as quickly and carefully as he dares.


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HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

At the whispered word, Bruendor grits his teeth and pushes past the exhaustion that deaden his muscles. "If you can hear me," he calls to the people inside. "We're digging you out. How many of you are there?"

No response, though he now could hear the child's cries. He moved carefully, stepping lightly and removing the fallen timbers to open a path to the bawling child within. It was slow going, and the child kept wailing, but the dwarf thought that was a good sign. After all, its cries meant it could still draw breath.

At last, he broke through. It was still dark inside, but neither he nor Anklebiter needed light to see within. Inside were two people, a man and a woman. They were huddled together, doubtless seeking shelter and protection in each other's arms as well as in the flimsy shanty. A collapsed beam had speared the man through the chest, and had pierced the woman's side. Miraculously, the child had been spared - if the woman had held it a few inches higher, it would have also been speared by the timber. Bruendor carefully crawled towards the pair, and checked them for signs of life - unsurprisingly, they had no pulse, and no fog appeared upon the mirror he held in front of their open still mouths. Slowly he took the child from its mother's arms. It bawled as he picked it up, and he protected it with his body as he exited the remnants of the home.

The exhaustion of the day and the sheer amount of devastation finally caught up with the dwarf, and he dropped to the ground once he was out of the house. "No more," he said, his eyes misting. "I cannot do any more. Torag might have made me from strong stuff, but even the best made armor will fail in time. Any more, and I fear I shall break."


Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

"No more for now, then," Anklebiter agrees. "You have done enough, and more than enough."

Very carefully, the Goblin takes the baby from the weary Dwarf's hands and cradles it in the crook of his elbow. "Let's hope no one sees me carrying the little one and gets the wrong idea," he says, grimacing. Just to be safe, the little Wizard drapes a fold of his ragged cloak over the sniffling infant.

"Here. You use this until we get back home." Anklebiter hands Bruendor his quarterstaff. In the hands of a Goblin, it is a weapon. For a bone-weary Dwarf, it will just about do as a cane.
"Lean on me?" Anklebiter suggests, as he wedges his shoulder under Bruendor's arm. With a grunt of effort, the Goblin manages to lever the bigger, heavier Dwarf to his feet. "Come on, one foot in front of the other. Let's go home, Bruendor. Let's go home. Some warm milk for the baby, some hot tea for you and me. And then we need to get priests of Pharasma down here."


Female Monkey Familiar 5; Init. +2; Perception +5; AC 17, touch 16, flat-footed 15 (+2 Dex, +2 size, +3 natural); hp 11; Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +4

Minky watches the two larger creatures stagger off from atop the pile of debris. After a moment, she climbs down the hole and approaches the two cold bodies.

The monkey sits still, staring into the empty eyes. A noise of shifting debris startles her from her reverie, and she reaches out a small, hairy hand to end those gazes, closing the eyelids before she clambers out of the collapsing shanty and runs after her Wizard companion and his companion.

Surely it's just monkey-see, monkey-do. Surely.


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HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

"If any have words, Anklebiter, they will have to answer to me first." Despite the strength of his words, he leans as heavily on the goblin for support as they wade their way back to the Golden Goblin as he does on the walking stick. Few words pass between the two as they make their way back through Riddleport's flooded streets. Perhaps no words need be said in this time, allowing actions to speak truer than any words ever could.


Many hours later, the Goblin's main gambling hall is filled to capacity with the wounded and those treating, praying, or otherwise watching over them. The majority of the injuries were blunt for trauma from being thrown against buildings by the tsunami, or else simply having a building fall down around them.

Several injuries were from a number of vicious sea creatures, rudely encountering an environment anathema to their being and violently striking out at anyone nearby. Reefclaws and jigsaw sharks were the most common of these, but there were also a number of swamp barracuda, jellyfish, and even a few euypterids causing havoc. The companions took care of many of these, in addition to organizing litter bearers and volunteers.

Kelendra took care of turning the Goblin into a hospice, having the bouncers drag tables out of the main hall and setting up a number of surgeries and recovery areas in the downstairs rooms.

Hundreds were saved that night, though many perished. There just wasn't enough healing magic to go around, and many were hurt far too badly during the initial injuries that they died before they could be recovered. Many more were swept out into the sea when the waves receded, and there were no intact ships to retrieve them...not that the sea life would have allowed such generosity in the face of the sudden banquet.

As the next few days dawned, there were four primary topics of conversation on the lips of all: the recovery efforts, the absence of the Blot, the vast store of skymetal the falling star surely brought...and the fact that the drow are real.

That last fact seemed to have swept through the beleaguered city like fire through a field of dry hay. There likely wasn't a person alive in Riddleport who hadn't heard by the third day after the skyfall - as the locals were calling the event. Old legends and histories were brought out into the light of everyday discussion as folks tried out what they thought they knew, and how it affected those they relayed their stories to.

The absence of the cloud that had wrought such confusion, peril, and study for months now was a mystery that no one other than the cyphermages seemed to care about. The fact that the shadows at noon were gone and the spoons didn't stick to the knives any more was enough for most people.

As for the recovery efforts, Riddleport seemed to get back to its knees with a struggle. There were many fights down at the docks, where rival shipping companies struggled to rebuild after the wreckage. Some ship owners were now destitute, their entire flotilla of merchant ships destroyed or severely damaged by the freak wave. Others had their ships out to sea, and found their companies doing much better business than ever before as the ships came into port. The balance of commercial power in Riddleport changed several times in the first week.

Many had family members that were severely injured or died, but that too was taken in stride. This was a dangerous region of Varisia, after all, and such deaths were, if not common then at least expected.

In addition, the lust for skymetal continued to grow amongst Riddleport's citizens. Skymetal was incredibly valuable, much sought after, and only able to be processed in bulk at a few select locations - one of those being Riddleport's Gas Forges. Many of the most greedy and adventurous of Riddleport's citizens were therefore anxious to be out to the south, on Devil's Elbow or one of the other islands in the area, hoping to find a new cache of skymetal.

Yet, how to get there? Most of the ships were damaged in the tsunami. Work gangs labored day and night to repair ships, and within a week, the first expedition sets off. A dwarven expedition set out on the crudely patched Mithral Wave a full 2 days before anyone else could manage to get enough ships, crew, agreements, contracts, and weapons together.

Spoiler:

The second part of this AP starts a week or two after the tsunami, and your final battle with the drow woman. Feel free to take what time you want resting, purchasing new materials (though some might not be available or might be prohibitively expensive, due to the disaster), and whatever else. Flex your interactions with each other and the citizens of Riddleport. I really like your RP so far, post disaster. You guys are great!

There are a lot of things you can ask around to learn about, some easier than others to find valid info on:

  • Devil's Elbow
  • Despora's journal
  • Groups interested in expeditions to Devil's Elbow
  • Drow


  • Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    Lefrik lays down an old woman on a cot, a miracle in herself that such a frail lady with so many years should have survived her injuries from the shark that he had to dispatch. "Rest easy, elder. You will live to share your wisdom a few more years yet." He assured her with surprising kindness, "And know that we may yet eat the shark that tried to eat you. Justice eh?"

    Indeed, Lefrik was not the best cook, but food he could gather. With so many sea creatures attacking people, it was only fair to to turn the tables...besides, with a number of houses destroyed, so many stores ruined, food might otherwise be scarce, at least for the now homeless.
    So Lefrik would hunt, and hope that those who could cook could make more use of it than he.

    When he has a moment to talk to the others, he asks, "So, do we have a plan? our revenge against Saul was what at first united us. Now... friendship. But the question remains what are we to do with ourselves? Should we seek out surface elves to ask their wisdom on their fell kin? Or hope to scrap up Star metal for ourselves?"


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "I don't really care that much about starmetal," Anklebiter says. "It's valuable and you can make things out of it, which is normally nice. But the Drow are dropping stars on our heads. If they drop another Starstone, they'll bring the Long Darkness. Last time that happened, the Orcs came. Who knows what'll come boiling up if there's another Long Dark? We have to go to the devil's elbow and stop them, smash their glyphs or whatever they're using."


    half-elf Oracle 13 | HP 107 | AC 27/15/24 | F +8, R +9, W +11(+2) | init +3, Perception +8 | CMB +10, CMD 25

    During the weeks following Skyfall and the killer wave, Kelendra will continue to tend the injured and provide what comfort she can as a healer. She gives attention to every single person to pass through the Goblin's Hospital, spending long days to ease the discomfort of the unfortunate. And the whole time she keeps a little journal tucked into her robes, jotting down every rumor and whispered prophecy she hears during those weeks.

    Diplomacy(?) to Gather Information: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26

    Nodding her head in agreement with Anklebiter, Kel seconds the goblin's concerns. "Surely we can't let people pluck stars from the sky, the Long Darkness would bring the sorrow felt by Riddleport this last week to every land, to every city!"


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    It is a gift that our perception of time is so woefully inadequate. A youth might see days crawling by at a snail's pace, but that same youth will wonder where the hours went in fifty years time. Displeasurable activities seem to take longer, while time with loved ones pass swiftly through your fingers, ephemeral and impossible to grab and obtain permanently. Somewhere, there are likely mages spending countless hours trying to understand just how our perception of time affects and is affected by the passage of time itself, and the fact that life was passing them by as they studied the secrets of temporal mechanics was likely lost upon them.

    For Bruendor, though, the last week felt like a year. So much death after the Skyfall, and only a fraction of it had passed through the Goblin's doors. Sleep came fitfully, and whenever he did finally drift off, it took some time for the faces of the dead to drift from his mind. He felt as tired as he looked, and it was only through a conscious act of will that he did not return to the bottle - that, and he'd asked Lefrik to keep hold of the key, just in case. Not that he couldn't pick the lock if he had to.

    "I'm with Anklebiter," he said as he sat heavily on a nearby stool. "Starmetal's a trap for the greedy and desperate. I'm neither of those things. Besides, if the drow can call one star from the firmament, they can call more. That's one hell of a weapon. I don't like anyone having their hands on it, let alone the indigos." He nearly spat this last word, proud of the epithet he'd created. "It's too destabilizing for anyone to have. We need to find out everything we can. How did they pull down the star? Can they do it again? How long do we have until they do? How can we stop them? And, most importantly, how can we make sure this is never done again?" Bruendor frowned as he said this, apparently only realizing the severity of the questions he had been asking.

    "My information network is probably severely damaged. I need to find out who's still alive, who's missing, and who's known to be in the dead-book. Devil's Elbow was their target, so I have to assume they wanted to destroy something there. I'll try to find out what's so special about that place, and who's already gone ahead - they might not look kindly at potential claim-jumpers."


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    And since Kel's much better at it than I am, I'll just assist her.

    Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    As long as I have ranks in the skill, I might as well give it a whirl. ^^ Diplomacy 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10.

    "Last time the Long Dark came, the Starstone had fallen on Azlant," Anklebiter says, musingly. "Thassilon was founded out of Azlant, and Thassilon is what Varisia is built on. I should talk to the Cyphermages again, see what they know. And I still want to organize the city's mages who are not with the Cypherlords. There's no telling what scrap someone might possess, that could be of use to us."


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    If Calla had seemed waspish before, it was nothing compared to the week after Skyfall. After a couple days of stalking around the Goblin, snapping at the merest provocation, she simply leaves, too angry to be of use, and spending her time in the city and at Calistria's temple.

    Stymied in her desire to get to the Devil's Elbow immediately to seek vengeance on those who did this, she takes out her fury on those seeking to profit from the misery in the city. Stalking out the worst neighborhoods at night, she teaches looters that those who take advantage of others' misfortune might find their own luck turning, and not for the better.

    And though Depora's dead, and beyond her own vengeance, it seems the first place to look for clues. She spends her days trying to learn anything more she can about the woman and her journal.

    As the group gathers again, Calla nods sourly in agreement.

    "Yes. I could care less about starmetal. These bastards have much to answer for, though. I say we head to Devil's Elbow and find those responsible."

    Not sure what check you'd like; though I do plan to eventually put some ranks in it, diplomacy's not exactly Calla's strong suit.

    Also, did we have any way to contact Kwava; Calla would probably have written to him to explain what they found and see if he could shed any (Lantern?)light on the situation.


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    "It sounds as if most want to go to Devil's Elbow. I am fine with that if that is the choice. This weapon the dark elves use is ... an abomination, and I say that as a man from a culture that takes village raids and looting in stride."


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "When you raid, people can at least throw tiles from their roof to crack your skull, or pick up a pitchfork and stab you in the soft bits," Anklebiter says. "This is ugly, making stars fall on people's heads."


    Gather info is now wrapped into diplomacy


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    Yeah, which Calla sucks at... Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 17


    The people of Riddleport are eminently grateful for all that you have done during the rescue and recovery efforts, and it shows itself in many little ways. Goods are sold to you for less than you might expect, and bought from you for more. Fresh baked goods and meats are delivered to the Goblin daily, to help support those that are still recovering there. Fresh medical supplies are delivered to the Goblin as they become available, before all but the most influential of trade consortiums can purchase them. In all, the reputation of the Gold Goblin and its new owners rises dramatically in the week or so after Skyfall.

    Calla and Anklebiter peruse the journal every chance they get, learning more and more about the drow on Devil's Elbow, and coming up with a rough estimate on their numbers, a dozen or so at most. The one thing they don't learn is why the drow were interested in pulling the star from the sky to start with. It mentions the "weapon", and how it will be used to "crush the enemy", but no specifics. In fact, other than the rough estimate of drow on the island and corroboration that the drow were indeed responsible for Skyfall, the journal is mostly useless.

    Bruendor spent most of his free time talking to the locals about the island known as Devil's Elbow, and the abandoned town of Witchlight on its shores. The rumors abounded of the place. How it is cursed so that no man can spend a night on its shores without going mad. How a deadly siren inhabits cave systems under the island and seeks to lure all men to their dooms. How diseases run rampant in the forests there, that killed all the original settlers. It is hard to pull out any verifiable nuggets of truth, but Bruendor gets the feeling the island is fairly large, inhabited by dangerous animals, and might have a siren - or a siren's ghost, the stories are unclear - inhabiting it. He also learns of a number of expeditions planned for the island, greedy men in roughly patched boats trying to be the first to get the Skyfall treasure.

    The crew being the most open about it is a group of dwarves, led by one of the Gas Forge supervisors, Goldhammer. They left a couple of days back, and were supposedly financed by Overlord Cromarky. The resources that man had to hand made it easy to patch up the Mithral Wave and send it on its way before anyone else could get a healthy keel in the water.

    The next ship to leave was filled with Clegg Zincher's men. The crimelord apparently commandeered a privateer's vessel when it docked at one of the temporary landings for supplies. When the captain protested, Clegg tossed the man and his first mate overboard into the shark- and reefclaw-infested waters of the bay. Then he and his men conscripted the rest of the crew and sailed off.

    The cyphermages also apparently put together a team, with much bickering amongst themselves and not a few problems with "accidents" that were almost certainly attributable to sabotage. Bruendor found out about it when Samaritha Beldusk, former replacement manager of operations for the Goblin, let him and Anklebiter know that she had been accepted as a novice cyphermage, and was going to be joining the expedition. The goblin smiled sadly at her, wishing in his heart that it was he that was going with the cyphermages, but wished her luck nonetheless.

    ***

    The companions dearly wanted to go with one of these groups, particularly the cyphermages, to find the ones responsible for the disaster and stop them before they could pull down another star. But, they held fast, still helping with the recovery efforts and still using the Goblin as a hospice. Even after purchasing supplies, and readying themselves, they still had one thing left to take care of.

    What were they going to do with the Gold Goblin?

    Spoiler:

    So, what are you going to do? If you go gallivanting off to Devil's island, by the time you return the Goblin will likely be in someone else's hands - possession being slightly more than nine tenths of the law in Riddleport.

    You have a number of options, including:

  • finding a manager
  • selling it
  • stripping it bare and abandoning it

    ...and many more.

    Let me know what you want to do about it, and we can move on from there.


  • Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    I'm for finding a manager. The uses of a reliable base of operations can not be stressed too much, especially in a city like Riddleport. We could put the cook and her husband in charge, or ask them about someone reliable to do it.


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    Finding a manager sounds best to me as well. Maybe hire some reliable muscle as well to aid in guarding the place


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    I agree. Let's start with the husband and wife, and see if they or any of their friends or family would be interested in running it. And if any of them say they'd rather not deal with it due to the crime lords, we politely explain to them that they only need to come to us if they start getting leaned on, and we will make the problem go away.

    Over breakfast one morning, Bruendor relays what he's learned about the expeditions. "There's three I've been able to confirm. First is the Mithral Wave, which has the Overlord's support. It's the official Riddleport inquiry into Skyfall. I'm less sure about the man that he chose to head it, Goldhammer, but I'm sure he's loyal to Cromarky. Otherwise, why choose him? I suspect we won't get much traction with this group since they're there on government business, but I don't think they'll initiate open hostilities with us." He's silent for a moment, then looks to Anklebiter. "Well, most of us. I doubt they'll have any love for a goblin and a beardless dwarf."

    "Then there's the Cyphermages, the unofficial group. They've had delays getting there, probably due to sabotage, but they're there to also investigate the remnants of Skyfall for magical clues. I think we've got a real chance to work with them, so when we head there, we need to try to connect with them."

    "And, since this is Riddleport, there's the criminal element. Zincher commandeered a ship and sailed there after feeding the officers to the sharks. I doubt they're there for anything but profit, but Zincher's a clever bastard. He might be trying to find a way to gain the drow's weapon. Whatever his plan, he'll not be happy to see us, so I expect we'll be at loggerheads. We may have traction with his men, depending upon how well he's treated them, but we've had little luck in turning men against their employers thus far."

    DM - all of these groups have already left, correct?


    yup, all gone


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    Agreed re: the husband and wife or another manager.

    "Very well. Let's get our supplies ready and then head out. They've already got a head start. Not that I think I'll mind teaching Zincher not to cross us again. Do we know anyone who will get us to the bloody Elbow?"

    Sounds like we want to buy Lefrik a magic axe, the party a wand of CLW and then split the rest of the treasure.


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    Elara and Heinrik seem quite taken aback at the offer, but decline graciously. "It ain't that we be wantin' more or nothing," the older man said, "but we ain't got no learnin' for numbers or readin'. Elara here can just about make out the deliveries, but that's about it. You need someone with skills in them other areas; readin', numbers, handlin' people. I mean, can you imagine me trying to get one of them bouncers to back down when he's a little too mad at a customer? Ain't likely."

    It seemed to go that way with everyone you thought of. Anklebiter's magic associates had the learning, but not the management skills. When word got around, the applicants arrived in droves, but none that you trusted enough to leave the Goblin in their hands for weeks at a time.

    Finally, the situation resolved itself when Larur's brother, Basker Feldin, arrived, hat in hand to thank you for finding out what had happened to his brother, and for taking care of Saul. It turned out that Basker had all the requirements for a house manager, and had learned much at his brother's side here in the Goblin. With minimal haggling, the deal was made. 100 gold pieces a month, split 80/20 between cash and room and board for the dwarf, with open accounting and spot checks on the books.

    Basker's first few days after the Goblin re-opened for business showed that you made the right choice. He manged the gaming floor quite well, and the staff even better. He had a knack for being there when a customer got unruly, and even talked down Skarfish, one of the nastiest drunks in the city, when the man became irate at losing his 15th round of Bounder in a row. In all, the Goblin showed a substantial profit - not least because your actions had made the place a semi-respectable hall once more.

    ***

    Antsy about getting a move on towards Devil's Elbow, it struck you with frustration that there just seemed to be no ships available to take you to the island. Finally, a pair of ships arrived, bearing fresh goods for sale. The captain of the Bladerunner was more pirate than merchantman, and he wanted nothing to do with "that cursed island". The captain of the other vessel, the Flying Cloud was another matter altogether.

    Captain Josper Creesy was an adventurer at heart, and was trying to break the record for speed sailing from Varisia to Andoran. He told you that his crew had just made a "practice run" from Riddleport to Magnimar and back, and his chances looked good. He was intrigued by your story of the falling star - nothing had really reached Magnimar, over 200 miles away - and had no problems at all with taking you to the island for a modest fee of 50 gold pieces.

    ***

    The night before you were to set sail, a familiar face entered the Goblin, and beckoned for your attention. Kwava had returned, and he had serious matters to discuss. Up in Saul's old office, he relayed to you his business.

    "Word reached the Shin'Rakorath of the drow you killed below the town. You can imagine that they were most distressed to hear of the dark ones making a resurgence, especially here. They sent me to find out all that you know or suspect, and to see what can be done to halt their incursion into these lands."

    "Do you know what was her purpose here? Why she had this man, Saul, funded? Do you know if she has any other allies in the region? These are but a few of the questions my superiors have."

    +1 greataxe is available, as is the wand.


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    "About time you show up again. According to her journal, there are about a dozen more on a nearby island. We plan to travel there tomorrow to discover what else we can. Her journal indicates they needed the glyphs -- we think on the Cyphergate -- to pull down the star. Whether that was the weapon or they want to use the star for some weapon, we don't know, though."


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "We have her journal," Anklebiter says. "I translated it. Here, have a copy."

    The Goblin pushes a sheaf of papers over to the Elf across the table.


    half-elf Oracle 13 | HP 107 | AC 27/15/24 | F +8, R +9, W +11(+2) | init +3, Perception +8 | CMB +10, CMD 25

    Are there other gates like this Cyphergate? If the dark elves need the energy from the gate to pluck the stars then maybe other towns are on the brink of what Riddleport just experienced? "


    Kwava took the journal and spent a few minutes perusing it, then sighed. "It is as we feared. The drow were planning something major, all right, and I doubt this Skyfall was the last of it. We know of no other structure like the cyphergate, and I do not think the gate itself called the star to fall - though of course that is mere supposition. No one living knows the purpose of the cyphergate. This is something else, I think, or why would there be drow on the island instead of infiltrating the city?"

    "I hesitate to ask this of you, given that you have done so much for me and Shin'Rakorath in the past. But, would you consider acting as our agents in exploring Devil's Elbow and finding out what the drow are up to? I am but a lone scout, in essence, here in eastern Varisia. Most of the Shin'Rakorath are further east and south, and I believe time is of the essence. I have funds to pay you with, and can act as messenger between yourselves and the Shin'Rakorath. What say you?"


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "Can you help us secure a boat?" Anklebiter asks, bluntly. "We were going anyway."


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    Lefrik has been pleased to see they could find a suitable manager to take over, particularly one who could handle trouble.

    As for the elf's return, he was happy for it. He listens to Kwava intently. "Your people's lore would be welcome. The more we learn of the dark elves, the better we can fight them. And yes, we will need to sail."

    I'll let you guys spring Lefrik's surprise gift on him anytime you like, guys :)


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    A few weeks after hiring Basker, Bruendor called him aside and sat him down at an off-side table, a pot of fresh-brewed tea already waiting. He speaks openly, but in the language of their people. "אני יודע שחייב להיות כמה חששות בנוגע לעבודה במקום בבעלות בחלקו על ידי זקן גזוז גובלין ו. אני רוצה לומר, עם זאת, שאני מעריך את העבודה הקשה שעשית עד כה, ואני יכול להבין את ההפסד שלך. אתה לא היחיד שאיבד את אחיו. תודה לך על כל מה שעשית, ואם יש משהו שאני יכול לעשות בשבילך, אתה צריך רק לבקש."

    ***

    Bruendor quickly makes time when Kwava returns, and listens intently as the elf relays his tale. "I couldn't agree more with you," he said. "Whatever they're up to, they have no concern for the repercussions of their actions. The deaths of hundreds are on their heads, and if they are allowed to continue their plan unhindered, that will only be the beginning. You seem to know more about them than anyone else in town. As the Shin'Rakorath's representative in Varisia, what can you tell us about them? What sort of resistance are we likely to encounter?"

    Dwarven:

    "I know there must be some misgivings about working at a place owned in part by a goblin and a shorn beard. I do want to say, however, that I appreciate the hard work that you've done so far, and I can understand your loss. You're not the only one to have lost a brother. Thank you for everything you have done, and if there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask."


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    Calla scowls.

    "We don't need to be paid to do something we already planned. That said, money could be helpful in getting gear to let us succeed. The one we met used some sort of poison, so we may want to find some way to counteract that."

    I didn't price it out, but might also be worth investing in some remove/delay poison scrolls or at least some antidotes, depending on what Kwava offers us.


    Bruendor:
    The shame of losing a beard is no more than the shame of helping a man who killed your own kin. And make no mistake, I treated Saul Vancaskerin - may he rot in the smelly balls of the hells for eternity - as a friend indeed. Still, you have been instrumental in revenging Larur, and for that I can imagine that your beard may grow long once more. I will return the debt that I owe to you in good service to you and your friends.

    Kwava listened to the comments, frowning thoughtfully as he considered his options. Finally, he spoke again. "I would not insult you by implying that you would only do good deeds at the thought of showers of coin, as if you danced the golden tune like common mercenaries. However, good deeds should be rewarded, and, as Mistress Calla said, the money could be put to use in preparing for this expedition, including the hiring of a vessel. I understand that rumor says you have already secured passage on a suitable ship. Hopefully this will cover the passage and a few supplies as well. It isn't much, as these things go, but it should help offset any costs you may have." He hands Calla a pouch with 300 gold in mixed coins in it.

    "As for information about the drow, there is not much more to tell, I think. They are a race driven by selfish greed and a lust for power. They delight in cunning, back-stabbing, and cruelty. They shun the light, and can be disoriented or even stunned by direct sunlight or similar effects. They use poison prolifically, favoring a certain type that renders the victim unconscious and unable to resist the drow's cruel plans.

    "We hunt them when they surface, and in turn they delight in raiding villages in the night, killing many and enslaving the rest. They worship demons, and many of the slaves fall victim to that particular form of worship. In short, they are evil, and it is the Shin'Rakorath's mission to ensure that their evil does not cover the world."


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    There comes a knock at the kitchen door, and Anklebiter practically shoots out of his chair.

    "Wait a bit, wait a bit!" he says, waving at the others for patience while he rushes to the kitchen. The group can hear a brief exchange of words and the chink of coin, then the happy cackling of a Goblin as Anklebiter comes scurrying back, a large and badly-wrapped package over his shoulder.

    "It's ready!" Anklebiter exults as he dumps the gift in Lefrik's lap. "It's ready! I told you all that wizard would have it done before we left! Hee hee heh heh! Open it, Lefrik, open it!"

    Inside the package is a fine greataxe in the Ulfen style, but of exceptionally fine quality. As soon as Lefrik takes hold of it, he can feel the power running through this weapon.
    On one side of the blade, the artisan has used silver - or something that looks a lot like it - to set a message in Skald: "In Friendship United, Never Divided."
    On the other side of the blade, that same artisan has painstakingly set out Dwarven runes to spell out the name of Bruendor Cavescouter, Elven script to write Calla Tas'Vere and Kelendra Shae. Finally, in the writing of lost Azlant, there stand the two names of Anklebiter and Minky.
    The proud name of Lefrik Olegson runs up the hilt in Skald, placed there in liquid steel.

    "Little something from all of us to all of you," Anklebiter says, grinning like a gargoyle as he hops back up onto his stool.

    "Okay. Sorry for interrupting, Kwava. So, Drow looks like Elves. How come your kind and their kind first started fighting?"


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    "Demons. Wonderful. We already faced a pair, but those were minor ones, barely worth of the name. If these creatures also use poison, we should best be ready for that, I think."


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13
    Anklebiter the Insane wrote:

    There comes a knock at the kitchen door, and Anklebiter practically shoots out of his chair.

    "Wait a bit, wait a bit!" he says, waving at the others for patience while he rushes to the kitchen. The group can hear a brief exchange of words and the chink of coin, then the happy cackling of a Goblin as Anklebiter comes scurrying back, a large and badly-wrapped package over his shoulder.

    "Eh? What's this about..." Lefrik replies with confusion even as the goblin returns.

    Quote:

    "It's ready!" Anklebiter exults as he dumps the gift in Lefrik's lap. "It's ready! I told you all that wizard would have it done before we left! Hee hee heh heh! Open it, Lefrik, open it!"

    Still confused, the golden haired barbarian opens the wrapping as directed.

    Quote:


    Inside the package is a fine greataxe in the Ulfen style, but of exceptionally fine quality. As soon as Lefrik takes hold of it, he can feel the power running through this weapon.
    On one side of the blade, the artisan has used silver - or something that looks a lot like it - to set a message in Skald: "In Friendship United, Never Divided."
    On the other side of the blade, that same artisan has painstakingly set out Dwarven runes to spell out the name of Bruendor Cavescouter, Elven script to write Calla Tas'Vere and Kelendra Shae. Finally, in the writing of lost Azlant, there stand the two names of Anklebiter and Minky.
    The proud name of Lefrik Olegson runs up the hilt in Skald, placed there in liquid steel.

    "It's...magnificent." The Ulfen says as he reads the skaldic writing and holds the great axe in his hands.

    Quote:


    "Little something from all of us to all of you," Anklebiter says, grinning like a gargoyle as he hops back up onto his stool.

    "Okay. Sorry for interrupting, Kwava. So, Drow looks like Elves. How come your kind and their kind first started fighting?"

    "My friends, thank you all so much." Lefrik wonders how it got so dusty here for a moment and tries to keep his voice from chocking.

    Quote:
    "Demons. Wonderful. We already faced a pair, but those were minor ones, barely worth of the name. If these creatures also use poison, we should best be ready for that, I think."

    Lefrik is still grinning, and is practicing with his new axe as the others talk, "I think we shall be better prepared for demons with this in my hands! Slaying a few is the least I can do to repay you all."


    Kwava looks bemusedly at the axe as it was presented to Lefrik. He raised an eyebrow at the obviously fine craftsmanship, and nodded to the goblin in respect. Then, he answered the question.

    "The enmity between the surface elves and those who tread the dark is long and complicated. In its most simplee terms, we cannot abide what they do. Their cruelty, capriciousness, adn hatred of all other races sets us at odds. Though we may have shared a common ancestry once, long before memory, they are no longer worthy to be call elulaliatu. Instead, they are as they call themselves...drow. A horrid name for a horrid people."


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    Dwarves are a naturally taciturn race, bearing even the worst of tragedies with a stoicism that few can muster. It is therefore worth noting that when the Ulfen warrior is presented with the axe, his stone-faced demeanor cracks upwards into a genuine smile. "We've made a name for ourselves here in Riddleport, Lefrik, and we've earned a bit of coin both from running the Goblin and the treasures we've found hunting Saul. But the greatest treasure thus far has been this: true friends. In all the world, that is something that cannot be bought with any amount of gold, especially in this town." He raises his mug of tea in cheers for his large friend, clinking glasses with the rest of his mates.

    "Well, let's make what preparations we can. I'm not familiar with fighting demons, but the indigo we fought didn't seem particularly resistant to being beaten to death. If their poison can lay Lefrik low, then it's potent stuff, and we need to be able to counter that. If there's anything we need to do before tomorrow, let's get it done. Every day that passes is another that the damn indigos get closer to their goal, whatever it is."


    half-elf Oracle 13 | HP 107 | AC 27/15/24 | F +8, R +9, W +11(+2) | init +3, Perception +8 | CMB +10, CMD 25

    Kel clinks her glass with the group, "There are few places where half elves, a beardless dwarf, a displaced barbarian, and a consciences goblin can enjoy camaraderie among friends, I'm glad to have met you all!"

    "Preparations made, passage secured, let Indigo be the roadmap ahead, smack them in the face, hard, and often, then we'll ask questions. Beware the poison, and give them no extra chances." Kel is ready to adventure ahead.


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    While Lefrik enjoys the chatter of friends and toasts along with their talk of comraderie, and listens to Kwava's talk of the drow with interest, he also nods at mention of the poison, "Most embarrassing that was. That darkness will be tricky for many of us as well. I have been practicing my battleskills in the dark, but how much it can help I could not say."

    To Kwava he adds, "Will you or some other of your people be able to come with us? a guide to fight these drow all the better?"


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "There's a spell that could probably help against that darkness trick," Anklebiter volunteers, "and I've already studied one that can help us take prisoners alive. I need to see whether I can get a wand with the right spell, though. May not have enough cash on hand..."

    RPG Superstar 2012 Top 16

    "If you need a loan, just ask," Calla says snarkily. "We bought Lefrik a big metaphor, so I suppose if you need a little one too, we can find a way."

    It's hard to tell, but a touch of humor might have infused her voice, making the comment a subtle joke instead of a cruel cutting remark.

    "Are we ready yet?"

    Just keeping things going since I think the GM is back tonight from his vacation.


    I am back! No reliable internet while i was away (including cell phone), but I am back now. Just in time to get slammed at work. but don't worry, I 'll get this shindig back on the road soon.


    Your conversation is cut short as a hard knock on the door sounds. A messenger is standing there, letter in hand. Behind him, Otho, one of the bouncers, said "He says he has a letter from the Captain of that ship you're on tomorrow. Said it was urgent. Hope that's okay."

    The messenger did indeed have a letter. It read:

    I apologize for the short notice, but I was hoping that you would join me on the Flying Cloud for a late supper, say around 8. It is my wish that we can enjoy a light repast while I get to know the passengers on this intriguing voyage. Please send your reply via this messenger, as he understands both the timeliness and the discretion involved.

    Yours truly,
    Captain Josper Creesy

    The time indicated was only about a half hour away.


    Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13

    "Sure, why not have a nice dinner before dying?" Calla snarks, rolling her eyes at the missive.


    Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13

    "Now now, let us not undervalue this...
    there maybe good drink as well,"
    He chuckles.


    HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)

    "Well, let's not keep the good captain waiting, then," Bruendor says, rising from the table. "We'll keep you and the Shin'Rakorath informed of whatever we find, Kwava. These fallen cousins of yours will pay for what they've done to Riddleport. Let's go collect our pound of flesh."


    Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13

    "I'm okay with it," Anklebiter says, "but why does he want to eat with us now so badly? Won't we all be eating together during the voyage?"

    The Goblin hops down from his barstool, and Minky drops onto his head from the rafters.


    half-elf Oracle 13 | HP 107 | AC 27/15/24 | F +8, R +9, W +11(+2) | init +3, Perception +8 | CMB +10, CMD 25

    "We must consider the very real possibility that the captain did not send this letter at all and it's a ploy to get us out of the Goblin and exposed at night for an ambush. It wouldn't be the first time our foe has ambushed us."


    The walk down to the wharves was uneventful, and it appeared that much repair and recovery had gone on in the last week or so. The Flying Cloud was docked against one of the newly rebuilt piers, and her masts were free of sail, though there was enough activity on her decks to make it obvious to anyone that the Cloud would be putting back out to sea soon.

    Captain Creesy met you on deck with a smile, and words to excuse the deckhands as they had much work to do before the morrow. Then, he led you to his dining cabin, a mid-sized room belowdecks with stern windows looking out over the wreckage of another pier.

    The meal was a roasted reefclaw, with some sort of unfamiliar spiced vegetables that Creesy claimed they picked up in the Southlands. A decent wine was served, and through it all the Captain plied you with questions.

    "What do you seek to find on the island?"

    "Why didn't you join one of the other expeditions?"

    "Is there a reason you weren't invited? It seems as if adventurers who have made a name for themselves like you have would have been the first ones to go."

    "Do you know of the island's past?"

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