The Secrets of the Sunderlands
Game Master GM Netherfire

Simon leads you through the streets of Hagglesport. The streets are moderately busy, not overly-crowded or sparse. The first few blocks are grimy and salty roads and alleys made by large storerooms, business offices, inns, taverns, and teahouses. Given the eagerness of seafaring customers and the friendliness of the staff, it is a safe guess that these teahouses must offer something much more interesting than tea. The populace seems to be an even mix of human and hobgoblin, with plenty of halfings and goblins not noticed until nearly underfoot. Once in every block or so is a black or green kobold spotted, pushing a cart of knick-knack wares or trying to sell a rack of skewered and cooked fish that reek of wet dog. Hobgoblins broil horse innards on the open fire whilst adding strongly offensive herbs and salts, and you realize that one of the sources of the city’s foul smell is the exotic food offered.
A half-mile of following Simon brings you to cleaner streets, and the smell seems somewhat lesser. The storekeepers and vendors seem to make a better effort in dress and shop appearance, and the occasional finely-dressed merchant is seen haggling among the common traders. For the first time, you notice a cluster of dwarves doing business outside of a bank. As you pass, it is obvious the bank is operated by the dwarf folk; most of them present heavy black beards. Throughout the city, hobgoblin city guards watch the streets and citizens carefully. The din of negotiation is constant, even into the night. Anyone drinking themselves into excess volumes seems to stay within the walls taverns and inns. In all, most seem to be well-behaved, save for the occasional shriek from the excitable little goblins.
It is nearly dark when Simon leads you to what appears to be a small mansion, until you are close enough to read the sign above the door: The Lord’s Landing. You have good reason to deduce this may have been a mansion at one time, but now serves as an upscale inn. By this time, you were led far from the busy city center, and the crowd on the road is considerably thinner, mostly human and hobgoblin. The last few blocks you found to be gradually quieter, by virtue of few folk and the later hour. Overall, this larger and dirtier city strikes you to be better behaved and organized than Kiffport. He pushes the heavy door open, and the noise of a full bar and amber light spills out, momentarily followed by the warmth of the hearth and the smells of food and ale.

Balion looks into the inn and immediately begins to look for any dangerous folk, all the while attempting to keep a warm smile upon his face.
Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Balion and the rest of you see a sizable dining hall filled with tables and chairs. Every seat is full, and people even stand where there is room. It is loud with all the conversation and laughter in the room. Most appear to be busy with their merry-making, though a few can be seen drinking with grim determination. None appear to be obviously dangerous, though patrons are apparently allowed to wear their daggers at the tables. Most of those inside are finely dressed, lightly armed and lightly armored. The innkeeper can be seen pulling a few drafts for waiting patrons at the bar on the far side of the common area.

“I will be paying for your stay here. Its accommodations should be satisfactory –this inn is reserved for those of high birth and their associates. Come with me, we will have words in a moment, Rolg.”

He waves to get the innkeeper’s attention over the roar of conversation. As he steps across the common area and toward the stairs, some of the conversation falters and the faces of some patrons sour. Simon smiles uneasily but points to Aladdin, Balion, Bolgrith, Rolg, and Squall, and then points to the crest on his coat. He holds up four fingers, nodding to the steps leading to the rooms upstairs. The innkeeper returns the nod. The conversations return to their higher, normal volume.
He leads you to the first room he finds empty, and allows all of you inside. The room is finely furnished and the beds made in soft, expertly woven blankets. In your experience, inns with this construction tend to allow the ruckus of the common room below to keep anyone awake who is trying to sleep. But in this room, the loud dining hall below is a barely audible murmur. Clearly, this is quality establishment, well aware of the importance of privacy for the rich.

“So,” Simon closes the door, and folds his arms as he turns a steady gaze to the hobgoblin. “What’s so important?”

"I wanna know about this boss man of yours who we ain't s'possed to know about, talk about, or think about. Who is this puppeteer and what does he want with us? I'll not stay longer than tonight without an answer or a lot more coin."

The hobgoblin slumps into an arm chair and pour a glass of wine from a flagon on the side table. His eyes never leaving Simon's.

Balion drops his heavy pack to the floor in the corner of the room and begins to wrap up some of his weaponry and extra armor into a blanket taking Simons advice to heart. Using some bow string he carefully ties the blanket together to avoid openly carrying too many weapons. All the while, he listens to Rolgs grievances. Upon finishing his task he sits crossed legged and lights a candle in front of him self-consciously reaching to adjust a hat that no longer sits upon his head. In a calm deliberate tone the Ranger says his piece, "I too would like to hear of your plans for us."

Simon cracks a grin. “I didn’t mean… never mind. I suppose it seems very mysterious to you, but I can’t expect you have knowledge I learned as a child. There are several dreamtales that mention a hero named Karajhin. The stories vary, but Karajhin inevitably swoops in and saves the day, or at least has a hand in the day-saving. The first traders of my people learned the stories from the hobgoblins. But that hardly matters.”
He leans forward, his grin widening conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’d wager Karajhin is not our real employer’s name. He must know what that name means, and desires to remain anonymous. I receive my instructions from him by letter. The strange thing is I never see who delivers the letters; they just seem to be where I look next. So far, he has paid me generously for simple errands, so I am certain whatever I am doing must be important to him. I think, especially now that he’s hired you lot, we can uncover who he is and find out what he’s about. I don’t want to bring my father into this; I’m already on his bad side, and he would dismiss the whole thing as boyish foolishness. For now, we do what this ‘Karajhin’ pays us to do, until we can gather enough information to catch him. Do you like my plan?”

"Fiu de catea! Nenorocitule prost, copilăresc puţin!"

Rolg bites his fist.

"Do you realize what this sounds like, Simon? I'll wager twice what you've paid me that the 'Karajhin' is playing you like the ugly, stupid lute you are."

"If this is a tale you heard at your hag of a wet nurse's wrinkled old dugs, then what are the chances someone bad would use it as a hook to snare an impressionable noble brat with no experience of the world? PRETTY GOOD, SIMON! Pretty damn good."

"Now, tell me everything you know of Karajhin and then tell me everything you've heard from your employer EXACTLY as it was said. Do that without argument and I MIGHT not slit your throat, pay myself from your fat purse, and be gone."

Rolg whirls on Ballion.

"And don't play the honorable hero with me, boy. If I choose to kill them then he'll die and if you have a problem you can just get in line."

Rolg's rage exemplifies the famous fury of his race.

Balion begins to laugh, a quiet little laugh before composing himself. Having seen many sell swords lose their temper and subsequently their wits, Balion is undeterred. Starring Rolg calmly in the face he attempts to be the voice of reason, displaying an unusual amount of articulation and social grace than the Ranger is accustomed to. "As long as we keep receiving gold in exchange for accompanying young master Simon on his foolish endeavors I see no fault." The Ranger pauses a moment before adding in a slight of his own.
"Besides, No one is compelling you to stay Rolg. I'm sure your mast-mate Golo would take you back if you asked him nicely."

Bolgrith watches the discussion escalate from his position by the rooms window. These new facts are only mildly surprising to him, he suspected from the moment he met him that the boy wasn't in possession all the facts.

Holding his tongue for the moment the Priest stares out the window and waits for the young noble-man to continue.

Perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Looking out the window.

Bolgrith sees dark clouds smothering the last strains of a burning sunset. On the streets below, two hobgoblin guards patrol warily along the road, as though waiting to beat any drunk than might tumble out of the taverns lining the road. No one seems to be entering or exiting the Lord’s Landing, but for some, the night is still young. No one else on the streets seem to notice a dwarf watching from the second floor.

Simon’s smile disappears and his face reddens in a confused mixture of anger and embarrassment. “You think I did not realize that?! This is why I wish to catch him, to find out what his plan is! Trouble is I know NOTHING about this employer. I cannot act on nothing, Rolg. And if you want to hear dreamtales, ask some of your kind, they know them best. I was not involved in sending letters to you –that was this 'Karajhin’s' doing. Do you want to see the instructions he’s sent me? Here, read them, they are useless.”
Simon upends his pack, and among the pile of gear, he separates crumpled parchment. After a few moments, he pulls an uncrumpled, neatly folded parchment, still sealed by wax. It shakes in his fingers.

“This was not in my pack earlier,” he squeaks. “He knows we have returned.”

The young noble arranges the letters in order of delivery.

The Cleric moves to the papers, picking them up he quickly reads them aloud in a smooth and mellifluous tone. Upon reading the fifth note he pauses, glancing up at Simon he says nothing and places the paper in his pocket. "That one was not from our employer." Bringing the final and unopened envelope into the light, he watches the young man as he breaks the seal and reads out the letter to everyone.

To Balion: "That only proves how little you know, ranger. The longer you let the gold of your employer dictate your risk, the sooner you find yourself in a situation you in which you cannot hope to prevail."

To Simon: "I will not be that fool. I warn you, when this plan goes south, I will be gone. Until then, I'd like to know how and why you plan to catch a man that can slip a letter in your pack under all our noses?"

To Bolgrith: "Why do you pocket that? Does it mean something to you?

As the final letter is read aloud, Rolg nods along, shaking his head at the end.

"Sound like the we may be taking all the risks just to put this 'Key of Honfogalas' into sinister hands?"

"Oh, that's right, Bolgrith. That letter I found with the platinum pieces aboard Fiona's Regret, from a 'Melagste'? In any case, it gave me the shivers. I think this is the chance we want. Once we get the key, we might be able to coax him out of hiding." Simon answers.

"I would certainly have noticed someone sneaking an extra 8000 bits into my pack..." Simon thrashes through his belongings on the floor. Finding nothing, he stands. "This is the room he detailed in the letters. Look under the bed to see if there is a chest."

Looking under the bed, you indeed find a small chest, measuring one foot wide by eight inches tall and eight inches across. It appears to be solid metal with ornate designs, with a well-made lock at its center. By its construction, it appears its hinges are on the inside.

Rolg steps away a few steps. "Open it Simon."

Watching Simon move to the chest Bolgrith answers the warrior. "Yes it does. It could mean nothing, or it could mean a great many things." He takes a step closer to the young man as he reaches for the lock. His fingertips suffused in the soft blueish glow.

Cast Detect Magic on the chest.

After a few minutes of concentration, the dwarf is able to discern a particular magic to the chest.
Make Spellcraft and Kno: Arcana checks.

Spellcraft 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Knowledge (Arcana) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

Simon retrieves lockpicking tools, but pauses when he sees Bolgrith's concentration. He waits to see what the dwarf is doing.

"It would appear someone is interested in where this chest ends up. But it doesn't appear to be booby-trapped, at least not magically. I am unworried."

Simon crouches as he begins to fiddle the lock with the narrow metal tools. Disable Device 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16 One of the tools break. Muttering a curse, he tries again, but much more carefully. After ten minutes, the lock springs open. The chest is so tightly packed with gold bits, many spill out onto the floor.

It takes you the better part of an hour, but they count to a total of 8000 gold bits. 4000gp. Evenly split, is 800gp for each of you, including Simon.

"There. 1600 each sound fair?" Simon takes 1600 gold bits for himself.

"As I said before, I have family business that cannot wait until morning. While I'm out, I'll see what price I can fetch for the extra gear we took from those pirates. The innkeeper downstairs will provide you with food and drink without charge." He repacks and shoulders his bag. He looks to Rolg.

"Take your gold. Each of you can take your own room, with exception to Squall. I'll be back tomorrow evening. The morning after tomorrow, we will leave to find this key. Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone."

The young lordling leaves the room, and soon steps out of the Lord's Landing.

Bolgrith counts out his share and carefully bundles it up in some old rags. Securing one of the rooms for himself he locks his belongings inside with the exception of a few pieces of his kit. As he makes his way out he nods to his companions and informs them that he will be out for a while, any are welcome to join him. Leaving the inn he asks for directions to either the city center, main temple, or library.

He will prefer the library, spending a few hours there researching Goblin/Dwarven relations as well as Goblin mythology.

Rolg waves Bolgrith away and heads for the innkeep.

"Got any fighting pits in this city? Someone a man can bet a bit on his own prowess?"

Balion enters his own room with his stored gear and locks the door behind him. After sharpening his weapons and conducting basic grooming the Ranger counts his share of the gold before storing it away. Weary from his travels Balion opts to go to bed early, but troubled sleep and fitful dreams prove too great of an obstacle. Deciding he was better off getting drunk than tossing and turning in bed alone the Ranger decides to sample the ale of the innkeep. Having tried a mug of every variety of ale he quickly moves on to the wine selection. Stumbling to his room Balion just manages to lock the door before passing out face down on the floor.

Uh, ok. You know it's well into night, right? Probably around 10pm.

The innkeeper nods to the dwarf. "Why yes, Master Dwarf. Head left on this road until you see an intersecting street. Take a right, and look for a large, three-story brown brick building on your right. Don't look like much on the outside, but it's got any book you could ever want. But I doubt it's open at this hour -all those shut-in bookworms don't like to stay up late. If memory serves, it should open tomorrow by the sixth hour." 6 am.

"And yes, Master Hobgoblin. There are fighting pits. Good money in them, too, if you have a bidder’s eye or the fighting skill. From here, take the Dragongate, and follow the road north. At this time of night, follow the shouts and cheers. Hell, at anytime, follow the noise. Take your second right and an immediate left. That should take you to the office to sign up. I’ll warn you, though, things can get nasty in there.”

“If you gents are here on Wyldote coin, it is my pleasure to offer you full access to the bar. We have the fiercest scotch of Anvilhart, the sweetest mead and finest ale of Mirth, a delicate red from the Snowrun Winery, and the strongest potato spirits and plum brandy of the goblin hills. If you’re hungrier than thirsty, we’ve got a mutton stew simmering since this morning, roast chicken in rosemary and garlic, and by the smell of it, an apple-cranberry pie that will be cooled in about fifteen minutes. We also keep standard inn stock –fresh baked bread, simple cooked beef, milk, cider, apples, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes and so on. Of course, being as the tables are full, I can offer as much as you can hold at a time.”

Rolg nods sharply and heads for the pits.

Aladdin heads to his room to discuss with Squall what changes should be made with the Eidolon now that they were on solid ground. He unpacks his bags and sits on the bed and stares out the window trying to sense what this rag tag group is missing.

The next morning, the innkeeper knocks softly on each of your doors, with a tray holding a small bowl of hot oatmeal beside a small bowl of various dried berries. There is also a clay mug of milk, and metal eating utensils. Also on the tray is a coin purse holding 92 gold bits, with a note from Simon specifying this to be your share of the sold pirate loot. Add 46gp to your current wealth.
“There’s more food down stairs, but it didn’t seem right just delivering the lone coin purse.” the innkeeper smiles. He leaves the tray with you and leaves to prepare another for your companions.

When you emerge from your room, you recognize a few patrons from last night groggily nibbling breakfast. Honeyed ham, rashers of bacon, a pot of bubbling oatmeal, a large platter of steaming biscuits and pastries, and a bowl of quartered and seasoned potatoes fried in bacon grease are laid out on the bar. There are pitchers of hard and soft cider, and milk beside clean clay mugs. The innkeeper stands near a stack of clean plates, ready to serve up orders. There is more than enough room at tables, if you wish to sit.

After breakfast, the rest of the day is yours to spend in Hagglesport as you see fit. The age and friendliness of the innkeeper guarantees an informed answer for any question you might have about Hagglesport.

Rolg, truly hungry now for the first time since they left the boat, takes a double helping of everything offered. What he does not finish, he wraps in a face cloth and places it in his pack as rations.

When he finishes, Rolg informs his companions that he will visit the smithy and that if anyone else needs to, they should wait until he gets back.

Knowledge (History) 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Knowledge (Local) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10
Knowledge (Nobility) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Knowledge (Religion) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

Rolg is able to find a smithy after some direction from the locals, and once there, is able to acquire the weapons and equipment he seeks.
I take it you are selling your normal weapons? Just make sure your profile is updated in regards to inventory and current wealth. Thanks.

Done and Done. :)

Balion leaves after breakfast to sell his excess gear to a vendor for a reasonable price.
Looking to sell the scimitar, masterwork studded leather armor and studded leather armor. Wish to buy a masterwork armored coat and an light steel shield.

Balion finds that his gear seems to fetch half of its market price. Scimitar: 7.5gp, Mwk Studded Leather Armor: 87.5gp, Studded Leather Armor: 12.5gp, Total from sold equipment: 107.5gp. Deduct 102gp (204 bits) from the coin you just gained, and the Mwk Armored Coat and Light Steel Shield are yours. Remember to factor in the new Armor Check Penalty, if any.

Bolgrith’s research takes him most of the day. He probably would have continued had not the Head Librarian informed him of closure in ten minutes, and asked that he return the books to their place. Stepping out, Bolgrith sees he has a few hours of daylight left before Simon is expected back at the Lord’s Landing.
You have enough time for buying/upgrading, if you wish.

Bolgrith makes his way first to the General Store across from the Library and then to a local smithy. He seeks out some supplies he's been meaning to procure. When speaking with the Smith, the Priest is especially careful to specify that the new Masterwork Aspergillum be etched with the same runes as his old blade.

Looking for a Breastplate, a masterwork Battle Aspergillum, 2 flasks, 10 pounds of silver powder, 2 vials of Acid, 1 medic kit, and a Boarding Pike. He'll sell his suit of Scale Mail, War Axe, and his short spear.

Bolgrith: Cost of items: 577gp (1154 bits), Sale of Items: 40.5gp (81 bits).

Don't worry all, I'm not gonna hold your hand through every purchase. I just wanna make sure everyone understands how it works.

Simon is seen entering the Lord’s Landing. Many of the patrons were talking about the Redmud pit fight of that afternoon. From the sound of it, there was an unusual outcome, something about Roktok and The Bastard in a draw. The young noble looks weary from lack of sleep, but he smiles when he sees the adventurers seated at a table. He joins them.
“Hello sirs. Did you get a chance to see the city? I trust you also spent your time wisely, gathering whatever supplies you might need for the journey.” He produces a map, and lays it on the table. “We will be taking the trade roads from here to Wheaton, then to Mirth, Stonebit, across the East Snowrun River, north into the Grikpass, and across the Barrowsweep. If we keep close to the Frosttooth Mountains, we might be able to avoid the undead that lurk in the Barrowwood. After that is into goblin lands, where we are not welcome, so we must try to travel unnoticed. Wolftooth Cave isn’t on my map, and I couldn’t find any records that pinpointed its location, so we will just have to look for it. However, this is Blood Bay, so we can start our search near there.” Simon points to each named location on his map.
Sorry fellas, I keep meaning to upload a map of the Sunderlands, but haven’t yet.

“I expect the trek to Boiling Bay to take six days on foot, which is what I think we should do, to avoid attention. We should set out at sunrise tomorrow; we have a long week ahead of us.”
He seems to wait for agreement, but it is plain he is eager to get some sleep.

Bolgrith nods. "If there's nothing left..." Standing to his feet the dwarf moves to return to his room for the evening.

The Ranger leaves the table after a quick nod to Simon retreating to his room to get some sleep.

"How many foes are we like to face on this trek of yours Simon? Can't yer daddy afford a few more men? We both know I am the only one worth his salt in a fight, so you tell me how it is that I am not to die traveling with you milk drinkers?"

Remember, Rolg's opinions are based on his viewpoints and ideals. He responds to deeds. I am not flaming anyone personally here :)

"Will we have transportation? Or we're just hoofing it to the Boiling Bay?" Aladdin asked.