Draeven gives the chest a quick look over for traps... ...before trying the key in the lock.
Kenan watches the passages as the others examine the chest.
With none of the others willing to approach , Rennyn steps forward to remove the key from Tsutamu's wrist then surrenders it to the ranger who has taken it upon himself to examine the chest for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that he did not find a trap, the half orc inserts the key into the lock - it is a perfect fit. As he turns the key, Draeven can hear the mechanism inside click into place. Raising the lid his eyes fall upon a velvet-lined interior with an elaborate set of removable trays set with specially cut slots. Laying neatly on the top over these is a broken sword. Its blade lacks the silver sheen normally observed in weapons of this caliber but rather has a blue-grey tint to it, suggesting this has been wrought of cold iron. Snapped roughly in half, the two jagged metal pieces fit perfectly together and form a wickedly sharp looking yet slender, gently curved blade. The hilt and scabbard are missing, however the guard and collar rest in an empty slot on the upper tray. There are a few of these empty slots throughout the chest and it’s obvious that many objects (mostly fireworks and potions based on the design of the insets) have been removed. Presuming nothing about these missing items, Draeven begins his inventory. The chest still holds five vials of light blue liquid (similar to the ones found earlier with the goblins), two vials of a darker blue fluid, three vials containing a greenish bubbling solution, a small leather cord tied in the shape of a ring, a wand, an impressive looking chain shirt (likely masterwork), 11 Desnan candles, and four skyrockets. In addition the bottom tray holds a treasure trove of coins placed in several rectangular bins: 3,820 sp, 421 gp, and various pieces of fine jewelry worth 560 gp total.
At the very mention of the vials and a wand, both Fenra and Jeryn's intuition kicks in. Calling upon her deity for strength and guidance, the oracle's eyes glaze over and immediately several items in the chest glow with tell-tale magical auras. As she turns to inform the others, her eyes fall upon the slender sword in Rennyn's hands and notices it too emanates as magical. Without wasting time, the two enchanters get to work. The vials of liquid are quickly identified as: five potions of cure light wounds, two potions of cure moderate wounds and three potions of lesser restoration. Dividing the "ring" and wand amongst themselves, Jeryn struggles to pinpoint the meaning behind the miniature leather cord. He can see it is meant to be worn on a finger, but to what effect he cannot say at this time. Fenra meanwhile is quite certain the wand at her fingertips is a wand of identify with enough energy to reveal the mysteries of almost 20 items . Leaving the ring to the oracle to puzzle over, Jeryn focuses his attention on the slender sword. Unfortunately, as the wizard handles the weapon, the hilt falls apart, breaking in several places. It is not entirely Jeryn's fault though - unlike the blade, this part of the weapon has not weathered the passage of time very well. As he hands Rennyn what is left of the grip, the elf notices something odd. A secret compartment is embedded within the hilt. Just large enough to hold a small item such as a flask or rolled piece of paper, currently a miniature mithral scroll tube rests inside.
Focusing his attention on the slender sword, Jeryn notes is of an incredibly beautiful design. The length of its blade is etched with an image of a single shrike perched on a coiling branch that runs the length of the blade. The nature of the engraving suggests to Jeryn that by touching this part of the blade to an ally, the bird would create a magical connection with them and the wielder of the sword.
Spellcraft DC 15+CL
Aura faint abjuration; CL 5th
Slot none; Price 5,940 gp ; Weight 2 lbs.
DESCRIPTION
Whispering Shrike is a +1 wakizashi (Ultimate Combat 134) of incredibly beautiful design. The sword is etched with an image of a single shrike perched on a coiling branch that runs the length of the blade. Once per day, Whispering Shrike can be used to cast shield other on any creature touched by the blade while you wield it.
Desnan Candle: When lit, this foot-long wooden tube launches a flaming pyrotechnic “candle” every round for 4 rounds. Each projectile deals 1 point of nonlethal damage and 1 point of fire damage if it hits; on a critical hit, the target is also blinded for 1 round. The projectiles shed light as candles for 1 round and have a range increment of 5 feet. Attacking with a Desnan candle is a ranged touch attack and always has a –4 nonproficiency penalty. A Desnan candle costs 5 gp.
Skyrocket: When lit, this foot-long wooden tube begins to shake and emit a handful of white sparks, shedding light as a torch. One round later it takes f light, moving in a straight line with a fly speed of 90 for 1d6 rounds before loudly exploding in an burst of light and sound, and dealing 2d6 points of fire damage in a 10-foot burst (DC 15 Ref lex save for half ). If a skyrocket impacts a solid surface or a creature before reaching its maximum range, it detonates prematurely at the point of impact. Anyone who takes damage from the explosion is either blinded or deafened (a 50% chance of either) for 1 round. A skyrocket costs 50 gp and weighs 1 pound.
Rennyn carefully opens the mithral tube...
Fenra, you should handle some of these items... perhaps your "gift" will reveal what happened here.
Draeven passes out many of the items...
Opening the tube Rennyn sees a carefully rolled parchment nestled inside. Tapping gently on the bottom of the tube, the elf is able to retrieve the document as the others inspect and divide the contents of the chest. Written on fine paper in black ink, the words of this letter are inscribed in Tien and their meaning eludes the paladin. However, he does spot a faint watermark on the paper that bears the image of a castle and the word “Brinewall.”
(Note to self: don't bother spending skill points on things that will be trumped by racial stereotypes.)
Rennyn, seeing the note is written in Tien, utters a few arcane words that allow him to read the letter.
Whispering Shrike is a +1 wakizashi (Ultimate Combat 134) of incredibly beautiful design. The sword is etched with images of seven shrikes perched on a coiling branch that runs the length of the blade. Once per day, Whispering Shrike can be used to cast shield other on any creature touched by the blade while you wield it. The blade’s tsuka (hilt) has not weathered the passage of time as well as the blade itself, and until the pommel is repaired (a process requiring 600 gp, a day’s work, and a DC 20 Craft [weapons] check), attacks with the weapon take a –2 penalty due to the loose grip. A DC 20 Perception check (an automatic success once repair is underway) reveals a secret compartment in the hilt just large enough to hold a small item such as a flask or rolled piece of paper. This compartment currently holds an important letter—see page 22 for details on this find.
Calling upon his connection to his deity , a spark of arcane energy surges within the paladin and soon the words on the page in Rennyn's hand glow and reform themselves into something the elf can understand. The letter is from a man named Rokuro Kaijitsu, written to his son almost 25 years ago in 4687 as an apology for with holding information seemingly vital to the very survival of the family. If the name Kaijitsu has not already struck a cord of familiarity with the elf it certainly does now. Ameiko Kaijitsu... Although she has not spoken of her family's past, Rennyn does know Rokuro is not the name of her late father. Other than Tsutamu... keeper of my master's word... , the other names mentioned do not sound like anyone the elf has heard of before, perhaps Rokuro's vassals? As Rennyn finishes reading the letter, he is left with no doubt about who it should be given to.
Fenra looks hesitant but nods at Rennyn's suggestion of handling the items. Mentally preparing herself she reaches out one by one to the objects found in the chamber, starting with the broken sword from the chest.
If the sword does not produce any effect before moving on to another object she casts mending on it.
After reading the letter aloud to his companions, Rennyn carefully rolls it back up and places it into the mithral tube. We should investigate the meaning of this letter further. It would seem the fleet was here on an important mission. There could still be a threat to the safety of the area.
Draeven holds up the chain shirt and checks it for size against himself...
A trip to Brinewall might also be in order...
Stealing herself for what may come, Fenra takes up the magical sword. Her eyes gloss over as the familiar mists surround her and she becomes weightless. But no amount of preparation could have prepared her for the rage that now flows over her body. The feelings imprint upon this sword are incredibly strong. Wave upon wave of intense frustration and anger assault the oracle's senses and with each wave, an image of the past emerges. The first wave brings an image of a ship. Storms batter the sides of the vessel as it makes its way south. A grizzled samurai grips the hilt of his wakizashi tightly as a massive wave crests over the sides of the ship and threatens to wash him away. There is urgency in his eyes and determination. To Fenra's relief she can almost feel the man's resolve to fulfill his master's charge. Instinctively, Fenra knows this samurai to be Tsutamu and as she continues to watch, the man casts his eyes out over the rough waters. Following his gaze, Fenra sees two other ships sailing nearby. Another wave crashes into the ship and the images flash.
Tsutamu is securing the jade and cherry wood chest below in the hold. Fenra can hear men walking quickly above deck - they are making preparations to leave and the mood is tense. Voices carry the same message, none of the crew wants to brave the treacherous seas, yet there seems to be no choice. A wave of frustration washes over the oracle and there is another shift. The storm is back and Tsutamu's ship has become separated from the others. Land! The crew moves frantically but the call came too late - the ship is lost. Run aground Tsutamu calls to the men over the howling winds to unload the chest, Leave the rest! We will collect it once the storm has past! Fenra follows as Tsutamu leads the survivors to the entrance of a cave. Free of nettles, the oracle recognizes this as the same cave the party had entered earlier. Quickly negotiating the system of caverns they come to a tranquil pool and for once the samurai looks content; he had managed to save his men from the storm. But then horror strikes. Once more rage rushes over Fenra's frame as a frightful form emerges from the mists. Its body is covered in wrinkles which Fenra recognizes as looking like the creature that had tried to kill Walthus. There are many of them this time and a bloody fight to the death ensues. Tsutamu watches in horror as the crew is quickly devastated. Overcome by a righteous anger, Tsutamu draws his katana and single handedly manages to kill most of these faceless stalkers. However, even as a handful escape into the storm raging outside and the fight ends, Tsutamu's rage gives way to shame. His sword broken in the melee, the samurai grieves at having so failed his master and his comrades. Kneeling in the dark cavern, the samurai loosens his tunic and plunges his wakizashi into his abdomen.
The scene turns dark and a cold shiver runs down Fenra's spine. Alone in the cavern, she can feel Tsutamu's restless spirit haunting the cavern yet she cannot see him. A wave of anger washes over the oracle and the scene changes. Goblins! They've found the chest, THIEVES! As the goblins leave with the very chest Tsutamu had sworn to keep safe, the samurai's wrathful spirit returns to his corpse. His rage fills the oracle's senses and the chamber swells with such anger and shame that the remains of the slaughtered soldiers rise up with him. As the oracle wrenches herself from the images, a small skeletal army, bound by Tsutamu's anger, leaves the caverns in search of those who stole their master's wealth.
Opening her eyes and returning to reality, Fenra is filled now with peace. She understands that Tsutamu's spirit has been trapped here, keeping a watchful eye over his charge - the chest and the letter in Rennyn's hands. She can't explain how she knows, but Tsutamu sees that there is a connection between this group and the rightful owner of this message. The grizzled samurai is grateful for his release.
You recall that an unknown scourge destroyed the colony of Brinewall on the first day of Sarenith in 4687, just a few days after the date on the letter.
Rennyn listens intently to Fenra's recounting of her vision. Clearly disappointed, the paladin reflects quietly, The man chose to end his life by his own hand rather than continue with his mission. He could have still delivered the letter if he hadn't given up hope. We should try to seek out whoever this letter was meant for.
Excited by the wonderful bounty from the chest, Jeryn remarks Finally a treasure worth the trouble! Clearing his throat, he nods at Draeven and Rennyn and says Very well done. Your strikes are ever true.
As the booty is split up, he happily takes his share and secrets his items among the many pockets on his person. Examining the leather ring, he shrugs and invokes the wand of identify, attempting to unravel its secrets.
After hearing Fenra's recounting of the samurai, Jeryn shakes his head and sighs. Samurai - so illogical.
In response to Rennyn's mentioning of the Brinewall, Jeryn tells him what he knows of it:
After hearing Fenra's recounting of the samurai, Jeryn shakes his head and sighs. Samurai - so illogical.
The despair and shame must have been truly overwhelming to abandon his duty... As Rennyn's words echo back to him within the cave, you see his face flicker as if recalling a painful memory.
By force of will the stoic paladin forces the thoughts from his head and snaps back to the present.
Gather up everything! We make for Sandpoint immediately!
I cannot foresee a situation where I would end my own life. Better to go down swinging, fighting to the very end, against unbeatable odds if that what it comes to, the gruff half-orc grunts to no one in particular.
Turning to Jeryn, the ranger asks, So that magic stick helps to identify magical stuff huh? Pulling out the arrows he got from the goblins he holds them out towards the wizard. Mind telling me about these?
Having distributed most of the contents of the chest, and having donned the chain shirt, Draeven lifts one side before calling out to Kenan, Want to grab the other end?
Tracing an interesting yet small pattern in the air, Jeryn intones a word triggering the wand's power. As the tip of the wand glows softly, the wizard touches it to the small leather ring and instantly the tiny band's properties are revealed to him. )
Then at the ranger's request, Jeryn, repeats the process for the arrows in question. At once the answer to Draeven's question is revealed to him
Kenan accepts the potions and carefully wraps them before stowing them securely in his pack.
Nodding to Draeven he lifts the opposite side of the chest. Let us leave this place.
With the secrets of the ring of climbing and animal bane arrows revealed to him, Jeryn returns the arrows to Draeven. After explaining what the items do, he asks who would like to use the ring - offering it out to anyone who wants it.
Gathering up the chest and its valuables, the group leaves Tsutamu's remains where they lay and makes their way to back to the entrance. Following the larger of the passages to the south the only difficulty lay at this passage's low spot. The water here has pooled on its way into the heart of the caverns and finding steady footing is tricky. Despite a few slips and splattered clothing, the experience is uneventful. Stepping out of the caverns, the steady wind from earlier today greats you like a breath of fresh air. Grey clouds blanket the sky over head erasing any traces of shadow from the surrounding trees. Retracing your steps, Rennyn eventually leads the group back to the switchback and up to the Lost Coast Road. Still ravaged from the almost nightly storms, the group sticks to the side where tall grasses brush against your legs. Travel here is far easier than through the damp swamp trails, not to mention the smell, the heat, insects... As you cross the Soggy River, patches of sky begin to open up as though from the Dawnflower herself were raging war on the canopy. The goddess' efforts send down beams of sunlight creating a picturesque backdrop bound to send prayers of thanks from her faithful. Gradually, the road bends gently to the west and the northern edge of the Brinestump comes into view. Near the New Fishing Trail, waiting patiently along the side of the road is a small figure dressed in a traveling cloak and tunic. He leans casually on an appropriately sized walking stick until you draw near enough to realize that this small figure is none other than Walthus. Standing upright, the hobbit calls out jokingly, Well, better late than never!
I have no specific need for the ring, but if no one else wishes to wear it I will. If a time or need comes, anyone can use it of course.
Greetings Walthus! We were headed to Sandpoint and were going to stop by and see if you wanted to accompany us. It seems you are dressed for travelling! Walk with us?
Walthus chuckles. It has been a long time since he has had need of his traveling cloak and walking stick. The revived hermit hides his nerves well explaining, As a matter of fact, I too am heading that way. I have some business with Father Zantus. The halfling adjusts his cloak over to cover his shoulder. Although his color has returned to his face and he feels well enough to make the journey into town, you get the sense that he is still not 100% recovered from his ordeal. I honestly was not expecting to see you. Walthus falls in step with the group as he continues the conversation, I know some of the local fishermen often return to Sandpoint in the afternoon. I had hoped to join them or a passing caravan. Smiling up at the oracle Walthus adds, But with your kind assistance I'm sure I will manage just fine!
Eager to hear all about your adventure the halfling asks, So! What did you discover in those caverns?
...
Leaving the New Fishing trail behind, the group makes its way north across the Ashen Moore and over the Pyre. As the small town of Sandpoint comes into view, smoke from the glass factory chimney and other buildings speak of how this town has grown. Crossing Boggy Creek, many of the town's folk can be seen busily moving goods and themselves here and there. Considering its shaky past of deranged serial killers, goblin uprisings, dragons and their love of fire, the town has done well. By the time you cross Turandarok River via Sandpoint Bridge, word of your return has already begun to spread. Excited smiles and waves greet you as the familiar sight of the sizable, yet rusty, iron dragon looms into view. Looming over travelers from the building's roof, the inn is often the first structure seen when entering Sandpoint from this direction.
Walthus, seemingly to have forgotten all about needing to see Father Zantus, bursts through the tavern's main doors and immediately you are greeted by the familiar smells of rich food and tobacco hanging in the air. Hey! A chorus of voices greet you from within and Bethana hurries over excitedly to usher you to a large table near the kitchen. To your surprise, the tavern has acquired a new head piece. Placed between the bar and tiny stage is a full sized, stuffed black dragon's head. The detail is frighteningly real and you can't help but believe that this was once a real dragon. You are not seated long before food and drink 'magically' begins to appear; naturally ordered and paid for by your growing base of fans. Through the rousing masses of admirer's, Fenra notices an overweight man with salt and pepper hair and mustache seated across the room at the bar. His black robes are held loosely by a maroon leather belt and topped by a flimsy black cap. This man looks familiar to the oracle, she's sure she's seen the nameless man before but not here.
Appearing from out of the kitchen doors, arms laden with trays of food and drink, is the beautiful Ameiko. With her hair braided into three thick black ropes, two on the sides and one trailing down her back, the Tian's face is framed by the distinctive white lock she carries at the front. Usually more than happy to see you, you've become after all very good for business, this afternoon she seems quieter than normal. The hostess raises an eyebrow, sets the items from her tray neatly on the table before you and stares expectantly at Rennyn, her dark eyes glint with a hint of annoyance. After a moment of silence, she annunciations, Kaijitsu? Shifting her weight to one side Ameiko, rests one hand on her hip and fumes.
Rennyn fills Walthus in on the caverns and what transpired within as they walk. He mentions the letter and inquires what if anything the halfing might know about this Tien fleet, those that are mentioned in the letter, Brinewall and anything else of significance that might have happened at the time the letter is dated.
Rennyn slides into a chair, ignoring Ameiko's posture and apparent annoyance with him. Looking over at the dragon's head he inquires. Where did that come from? It wasn't here yesterday. And I would be careful about decorating your premises with the heads of powerful and deadly sentient creatures known for their lack of humor and propensity towards wanton death and destruction.
As for "Kaijitsu", it is a name we have encountered a lot in the last few days. Do you know something about it?
Draeven drops his end of the chest on the floor of the inn and heads immediately to the bar for refreshment...
Interjecting were appropriate, Walthus listens intently to Rennyn's summation adding at the end, I'm afraid the letter is dated far before my time here Master Rennyn. It is not uncommon for ships to run aground in Sog's Bay though. In the five short years since I moved here, I've seen three ships smash their hulls upon the Bay's shallow waters. The halfling apologizes for not having any useful information to add about the names other than they sound Tian to him, You know Ameiko is of Tian descent, perhaps she can help!
The paladin's aloof reaction towards Ameiko's annoyance, combined with his cautioning as to the hostesses choice of decor, is rewarded with rolling eyes. Leaving the star to deal with his fans, she moves off to see to her first priority - her customers. The paladin's questions will have to wait. In her absence, Bethana takes it upon herself to explain the recent addition as she passes out fresh pints. Sorry dears, she does get moody you know. That, Bethana nods her head in the direction of the dragon's head, is none other than the feared Black Fang himself! As details of a young group of adventurers start to trickle in, your memory is jarred and you recall that about a year ago, a small group lead by an elf by the name of Kyra Thysrial triumphantly brought the beast down while investigating the disappearance of livestock from nearby farms . The group has since disappeared but they were last seen heading east to a town named Belhaim. What you did not know was that Ameiko had purchased the head as thanks for the surge in business she enjoyed. She'd sent it off to be stuffed and it arrived yesterday. Interestingly, none of the patrons seem particularly troubled by the recent addition of a real dragon's head to the tavern's decor. On the contrary they are very pleased with the way it came out. Saul in particular scoffs at the paladin's warning, Oh come on Rennyn! Have ya forgotten where you're staying? Its the Rusty Dragon for cry'n out loud! Surely you remember the tale of how the Rusty Dragon got its name!
Sweet Desna give me strength! Jiggs familiar voice cuts the old fisherman off, Sit down Saul! Don't you know its bad manners to try and steal their thunder with one of your 'tall tales'. Jiggs, pushes the old fisherman out of the way and takes his place near the front of the crowd. Sorry Rennyn. Now you know we're all eager to hear what happened so don't keep us in suspense any longer. The many patrons gathered around the group's table turn their impatient eyes toward the wizard. Fully expecting at any minute to delight in another of Jeryn's adaptation of what had transpired in the swamps, the room falls silent.
True, but this was a Tian fleet of ships on some sort of urgent business. Makes one wonder what drew them to this area. It is far from home.
As Ameiko snubs the party Rennyn rises from his chair. If you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to. As he moves towards the door he adds, And the dragon's head is still an abhorrent idea, before closing the door behind him.
Draeven returns to the table with 4 mugs in his large hands. Seeing Rennyn gone and everyone looking expectantly, the half-orc remarks, Oh did you guys want one as well? And don't look at me, I ain't the story telling type. He then drains two of the mugs immediately.
Jeryn's colorful and lengthy oration provides the usual reactions. Delighted with the wizard's version of things, the questions start to pour out as well as a few useful bits of information. No one is left free from questioning, What was it like?... Two ships you say?... Didn't that hurt? ... Freezing air? Don't be ridiculous! It's true! My cousin's uncle encountered that very thing. Moved a table across the room! As the topic of Brinewall comes up, a very old looking gentleman by the name of Ethram Valdemar wheezes from a table in the back, Twas an unknown scourge that destroyed that colony... The frail man breaks into a severe coughing fit before taking another sip of a glass of whiskey. Smacking his lips he adds matter of factually, The last commander at the time was a man named Andril Kortun...
With the ale flowing freely since your return and the kitchen kept busy well into the evening, the fiery mood of your hostess eventually mellows - she does have a heart of 'gold' after all. A tired looking Walthus bid you all a good night an hour ago but a few loyal patrons still remain, including the over weight gentleman seated at the bar. A seemingly quiet man, he's been watching your table sporadically throughout the afternoon. On the other side of the room, Jiggs and Saul can be heard debating the possibility of more skeleton's lurking near the waters of Sog's Bay, ...they were quite thorough...Not in the shallows...Are you drunk?...
Looking quite tired the hostess finally makes her way to your table, Phew! Ameiko's skin glows with perspiration as she plunks herself down on an empty chair. She'd been on her feet for several hours, doing everything from moving trays laden with food and drink, collecting soiled dishes to preparing numerous meals in the kitchen. Can you believe how crazy it's been tonight!? The Tian smiles wickedly at the group with a knowing wink. The lock box she keeps behind the bar has more than overflowed a few times this evening, I haven't been this busy since... she shakes her head and raises her arms conceding to the fatigue which has robbed her of the answer. Listen, I managed to catch most of you said Jeryn. Putting an admiring hand on the wizard's shoulder she praises, That sounded riveting! Too bad about that goblin pet of yours. I really could have used the extra help tonight! Turning back to the group her face scrunches up with bemusement as she asks, But you know a few of those names are Tien; Tsutamu, Rokoru, Tanaka... and finding ships named Kaijitsu, you know that's my family's name! Too. Weird. Ameiko shakes her head as she leans back on her chair. Although she looks at you all skeptically, the hostess has no reason not to believe the events described. Fenra's intuition tells her that the information seems to be still sinking in and Ameiko is either looking for confirmation or trying to deny the connection.
Fenra takes a much needed bath before joining the others in the dining room. When she enters all eyes are drawn to her as she is dressed in her dancing clothes which flow with her movements, alternately revealing and obscuring.
She scans the room and notices Rennyn is not there but is not particularly surprised. Her eye is drawn to the stranger seated at the bar. She furrows her brow, He looks familiar, but where... She searches her memory but can not locate one containing the man in the dark robes. She moves to the table containing the rest of the party, smiling at the eager expressions of the people clustered around listening to Jeryn's tale.
She gives Bethana a smile of thanks as food and drink are placed in front of her and asks quietly, Who is the stranger at the bar? He doesn't seem to be interested in Jeryn's masterful retelling of our day.
After leaving the tavern, Rennyn made straight for the local smithy. He had struck up a friendly relationship with the proprietor, spending much time over the past years honing his craft under the watchful eye of the master blacksmith.
Entering the busy workplace, he spied the man and greeted him warmly. Rennyn then produced the broken katana and showed it the more experienced weaponsmith. Have you ever seen one of these before? Do you think we can repair it?
Pulling Whispering Strike out of his belt he adds, This one is also in need of attention, but it is magical and likely beyond even your abilities. I thought that we could use it as a guide on how to fix the larger sword though.
Draeven continued to drink for a time and then he too got up and left. I'll check in with you all in the morning.
Kenan sits quietly at the table enjoying his mug of ale while listening to Jeryn's version of events. Waiting till he finishes he takes a long swig of his ale. Sounds like I missed all of the real fun!
Kenan looks at Ameiko as she leans back in her chair. Ameiko, there is more to the tale than what Jeryn spoke. We found a letter from someone named Rokuro, addressed only to his son. The name is Tien but have you ever heard of someone by that name before?
Jeryn takes his time relaying the heroic exploits of the party's recent venture - embellishing the story in some places and using cantrips to bring to life flashes of light or sparks to startle and thrill his listeners.
After he had completed his tale and the crowd's eagerness had been sated, he ate heartily, quaffed his ale, then excused himself to have a bath and wash the grime of the road from his person. Confident Kenan would have a productive conversation with Ameiko, Jeryn was hoping he would be washed and clothed in time to head out into the streets of Sandpoint to spend some coin.
The oracle's entrance does not disappoint. Enticing several eyes seated at the bar, Fenra's outfit beguiles as she glides down the stairs. Nearing the small crowd gathered around the party's table, virtually all the greetings she receives from the men there results in a double take. In fact, despite the excitement of the wizard's tale and magical effects, Fenra notices the men closest to her are struggling to keep up with the story. The feeling of so many eyes on her attire is positively intoxicating.
Pushing her way through the throng, Bethana greets Fenra pleasantly and replies, Oh on the contrary Mistress Fenra, that gentleman is very interested. Bethana places a finger on her plump cheek as she collects her thoughts about the man, He was pretty shy at first, nervous type too, but, well, he's been here for nearly three days now so I've had plenty of chances to speak with him. His name's Bordamir Qwainson, a traveler from Magnimar. Fancies himself to be a scholar of history! Bethana blushes. Although she is no where near to being an expert on the subject, history is one of her favorites. Just the other day he drummed up the nerve and quietly started to ask all sorts of questions about the goings on of your first outing and that box you found. Gathering up her tray and some empty pints the halfling waves to a patron seated nearby, My, it is busy today! Squeezing and twisting her way through the crowd Bethana quickly disappears.
Nearing the intersection of Festival and River Streets Rennyn's ears find the familiar sounds of hammer on metal and the distinct smell of charcoal. Located next to Tanner's Bridge and with a clear view of Turandarok River, Red Dog Smithy is the only blacksmith in town. Constructed of wood with a high stone foundation, the exposed wood is bone dry and bares the same dull grey as the shop's foundations. A sizable entrance is framed by a couple of large rocks which serve to keep the two stable doors open. Entering the premises Rennyn is greeted by three large red mastiff's sitting patiently by the doors. As their master bends and hammers another horseshoe into shape, tails begin to wag excitedly and the dogs lick their snouts in anticipation of Rennyn's hand. Standing over an anvil near the back is a bald and powerfully muscled human. Known for his foul mouth and quick temper, Das Korvut has little patience for customers, and even less for everyone else. Sandpoint suffers his foul-mouthed attitude because he really does know his job and as long as he’s busy hammering metal, he stays relatively calm and confined to his smithy.
F_@k'n piece of sh_! Das looks up at the paladin, scowls then dunks the metal shoe back into the forge. F_@k. Look who's back. You done f_@k'n around in that f_@k'n swamp? Das Korvut may have one of the foulest mouths around, but Rennyn has learned this is just part of Das' personality. The smithy tosses his hammer on a nearby workbench and strolls over to greet the elf who, amazingly, had braved an apprenticeship with him. Das' large hands grab Rennyn firmly by the shoulders, Welcome.
The master smithy has very high standards. His keen eye for detail and reading metal demand the Das' full attention, leaving no room for interruption - interruptions only serve to p_ss the man off. He's held Rennyn's work at the shop to the same high standards as his own and has told off the now paladin hero on several occasions. Although it didn't go over well with Rennyn at first, the elf knows now the smithy's foul mouth actually helped him to become a better craftsman. In fact, Das' cursing sounds more like encouragement to Rennyn's ears now, encouragement that Das is only too pleased to dole out for his favorite, if only, pupil.
Das folds his arms and listens stoically as Rennyn explains the task. Taking up the broken katana, the color on the smithy's face darkens. How the f_k!? When Das settles down, he takes a closer look at the metal within the blade and whistles. Hah! I see, woah. By the f_k'n gods! That's some nasty sh_* Rennyn. Das rubs his bald head with a meaty hand as he thinks then placing both hands on his hips starts nodding, Only ever heard stories about this kind of folding...but I can do it. It'll be a challenge though. Not to mention a nice change from all the sh_* I've been doing lately. For you, 140gp. You want to work it off? Das gives Rennyn a stern look, F_k'n sheriff's got me making shoes and f_k'n spear heads into few days so I can't get to it right away. Carefully setting the pieces down on the bench he takes up the broken pieces of the wakizashi's hilt. Hmmm. Simple enough. You want a compartment for the large sword? 25gp without. 50gp with and...five days. As for the hilt for the shorter one, you should try Voon's. He's a f_k'n thief, but he'll find what you need.
Ameiko sits up in her chair, So I did hear it right. Looking a little dismayed the hostess asks pointedly, What's the son's name? And where's the letter? I need to check the characters used...its important*.
Tried to use 50% of the cost of a masterwork cold iron katana (380gp?) for pricing the blade. Pricing for a hilt with a compartment is based on a false bottomed chest, half that for a regular masterwork hilt...165-190gp total. Working for Das will deduct 140gp from the price. If you have a better idea to calculate this, RP counter his offer in the PBP and break it down as ooc
After exiting the tavern, Rennyn made his way directly to purchase a better set of smithing tools and then returned to the shed behind the tavern where he had set up small smithy to practice his craft. Lighting and stoking up the furnace, he then pulled out the katana and arranged the pieces upon his makeshift workbench. He then took out Whispering Shrike and studied it, intent on using it as a guide as to how to repair the non-magical sword.
After formulating a plan, he got to work...
...and after 3 days of long hours spent at the anvil, only stopping to eat, acquire some needed additional materials and trancing right in the shed, he reforged the katana into a splendid weapon. Holding the finished weapon he felt a good deal of pride at what he had accomplished.
His first order of business attended to, Rennyn then set about procuring a scroll to fix the magical wakizashi and buying a new bow...
Kenan leans back in his chair. I do not believe that he names his son in the letter just addressing him as "my Son". Unfortunately, Renyn still has the letter. He was the one who could read it not I cannot be sure at any rate. As soon as he returns, I will let him know to come and see you.
Ameiko leans her elbows on the table and her mouth lets out an impatient sigh, Rennyn. Pondering for a moment, the hostess stands, Thanks guys. If you will excuse me, I have to check something. Then disappears down the hallway leading towards the taverns many rooms.
Moments after the hostess leaves, someone clears their throat behind you. It is the gentleman from the bar, Bordamir Qwainson. Holding a pint, the man smiles and sways slightly, Pardon. My interruption. But I was wondering if I might speak. With you. The mans dark brown eyes blink, May I? A hand gestures to the empty chair at the table.
Bordamir Qwainson...B.Q. Fenra is beginning to remember where she'd seen this man before.
Although recognition begins to form in Fenra's mind she tries to keep the knowledge from her face. Of Course. she graciously replies to his request.
... leans her elbows on the table and her mouth lets out an impatient sigh,
Plopping himself down, Bordamir realizes he's missed a beat and starts to wave his hand in an apparent appology, No. No. Where are my mannors? My name. Is Bordamir Qwainson. I am historian from the Twilight Academy of Galduria. As it is very apparent by his actions, the man is quite drunk with ale. Placing his pint on the table, the drunken scholar rubs his sweating face vigorously to gain some soberness. My whole life's work, has been in the pursuit, and research of Thassilonian relics. Alaznist. To be exact. Bordamir smiles smugly as though the name Alaznist is a well known subject of great interest to everyone.
I've heard of your achievements and I'm very. Impressed. The part about you finding that box. Wonderful! Taking a deep breath, Bordamir looks at the group very seriously, or as seriously as he can given his condition, I am certain it is mine. Holding up a hand the drunken scholar closes his eyes and continues his oration by giving a very accurate description of the exterior of the box right down to the pattern of the inlaid woods and the inscribed initials B.Q.
Opening his eyes Bordamir concludes, I would very much like. To have it back. In return, I offer a most amazing proposal. To you all.
The box is obviously yours, perhaps it was obtained by some unscrupulous method? She does not give away the fact that she has seen the deed as if she herself were there. Not really waiting for a reply she continues.
We, of course, are not thieves and as the box is rightfully yours we are more than happy to return it. We will deliver it to you tomorrow morning and you can fill us in on your proposal then when we are all here and rested enough to give you our full attention.
She smiles warmly at the man. We can meet here for breakfast if that is to everyone's satisfaction.[/b]
Flagging down Ameiko she asks, Will you please let Rennyn know when he returns that we have a meeting in the morning. Just leave him a note if he is back too late. Thank you.
Feeling fully satisfied after the day's events she decides to retire for the evening.
Bordamir places his face in his hands and sighs heavily, Thank you. Thank you! Trying to keep his relief from becoming emotional the scholar sniffs back a tear and smiles broadly. And to think I was actually frightened you might have said no! Rising from his seat, Bordamir places his hands together in thanks then shakes each of your hands warmly, I'm quite excited with the prospect of seeing you all in the morning. I doubt I shall sleep a wink tonight! As the overweight man departs for his room, you all get the same impression - this is a very trusting man. Perhaps a little too trusting given his previous choice in traveling companions.
The next morning a blurry eyed Bordamir meets you in the main seating area. A man with an impressive appetite, Bordamir takes the liberty of ordering breakfast for all and Ameiko soon sees the man sitting amidst platters of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast, strips of crispy bacon, pancakes waiting to be drizzled in honey and jams and an assortment of drinks; coffee, tea and juice. He greets you all warmly and invites you to join him in his own little battle of the bulge.
Draeven enters the tavern, and seeing none of his companions present, takes a seat at the bar, ordering an ale and some blood sausage...
Having selling a few things but finding nothing of interest in the market, Jeryn opts to hoard his coins in the hopes of accumulating enough to buy something spectacular. He spends his off time divided between reading in his study, recording the exploits of the party in a journal, and conversing with some of the other scholars in the town.
Entering the tavern, Jeryn greets Bordamir and Draeven. He takes up a position beside his green skinned commrade and helps himself to a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon - careful to ensure that not a morsel of food comes into contact with any of the other items on his plate. Filling up a large mug with coffee, he begins consuming his meal, one deliberate bite at a time.
As agreed, the box retrieved from the swamp is returned into the hands of its rightful owner. Placed neatly in front of him on the table the plump scholar beams as he taps it gently, I'd thought this lost, but here it is! It is a very special box, made especially by a brilliant magician in Magnimar. Inside is my life's work, my most valued possessions! Magically locked, of course. Taking up the wooden box Bordamir whispers into the lock which is followed by an audible click. Setting the box back on the table, the scholar takes a matter of fact tone as he begins to manipulate the strips of inlaid wood.
As I'd mentioned, my main focus is Alaznist who was the last Thassilonian Runelord of Wrath. Bordamir says this triumphantly, That of course is the very sin that gave power to the Runewell located right here underneath Sandpoint! When I learned of these details concerning the catacombs discovered by the Wolves of Sandpoint, I began to make plans to come here and see for myself. Bordamir pauses long enough to stuff a fork full of eggs and bacon into his mouth. You see, 10,000 years ago...
Alzanist ruled over the realm of Bakrakhan from her capital, the City of Wrath. *Many scholars believe that a millennia ago, before the fall of Thassilon, what is known today as the Lost Coast was not a coast at all. It was a series of rocky bluffs and cliffs that ran through a vast moor stretching between the end of the Fogscar Mountains, south to the Mushfens. Called the Rasp, this ridge of stony tors and limestone escarpments marked the boundary between the nations of Shalast and Bakrakhan. When Thassilon fell, the nation of Bakrakhan collapsed and slid into the sea, forming what is called today the Varisian Gulf—the Rasp became the region’s new coastline. Before these cataclysmic events however, ancient texts describe violent clashes between the armies of the Shalast and Bakrakhan. Karzoug, leader of Shalast, used his impressive magic and giant slaves to erect immense statues in his image along the Rasp. These granite sentinels were hundreds of feet in height! Seeing through their stony eyes, Karzoug could look out upon the nation of Bakrakhan. Bordamir surveys his audience as he downs a glass of juice.
In response, and most of my research seems to support this; Alaznist built several watchtowers along the Rasp. Now, most disagree, but I believe these towers did more than just keep a watchful eye on Shalast!
The scholar's hands shake with excitement as he moves the last strip of wood on the lid of the box. Inside is an old leather bound journal resting in between vials of differing hues. Gently held in place by cutouts, the vials look very well protected from most bumps or knocks. Taking up his journal, several diamonds of various sizes are revealed nestled underneath. Bordamir carefully takes up one of these, For you. A small reward for returning my work to me! Draeven keenly assesses the stone to be worth at least 500gp.
Opening the journal, the scholar flips it to a piece of folded parchment, much darker than the other pages. Carefully unfolding it, Bordamir reveals it to be a rubbing of a few lines off an ancient stone. Translated in the next entry of his journal, Bordamir points to the words inscribed as he explains, Based on these inscriptions the oral traditions most scholars accept as true may have evolved over the generations and the beams described emanating from Alaznist's towers, or as most now say lighthouses, weren't actually there to provide light. This notion was passed down to answer an obvious question. Why is there a tower sitting at the edge of the sea?
What I propose to do, is investigate Sandpoint's lighthouse. If it is one of Alaznist's towers perhaps I can determine its true nature! Naturally, I would need some assistance. Unfortunately, the trio I'd employed previously turned out to be untrustworthy. You however, have an excellent reputation - particularly that Rennyn fellow, and as you can see, I am quite capable of providing payment now that I have my box back.
Shalelu buys the broken katana and takes it to Das to repair. Using Das Kovrut's Stats it takes him a much longer time than I'd presumed to reach the repair cost - yikes!
Masterwork cold iron katana value is: 50gp base + 50gp for cold iron + 300gp masterwork quality = 400gp. 1/5 is 80gp
= 480/7 or 69sp
= No progress
= 460/7 or 66sp
= 600/7 or 86sp
= 620/7 or 89sp
= 460/7 or 66sp
= 520/7 or 74sp
= No progress
= 460/7 or 66sp
= No progress
= 560/7 or 80sp
= 580/7 or 83sp
= No progress
= No progress
= 520/7 or 74sp
= 620/7 or 89sp