In a dim but richly appointed hall in the City of the Lady of Pain a large man in a shapeless hat and voluminous purple cloak sat at a gaming table slowly putting his pieces into play. There were three, each a tiny figurine: a young man made of quartz carved wearing tattered robes, a middle-aged but beautiful woman made from amethyst and the model of an older man whose face was lined with care and grim understanding, chiselled from a dark granite.
'Too Few,' he whispered to himself through his long, grey moustache, 'but justice must be served.'
A large, powerful hand, gauntleted in Dragon skin slapped down upon the cloaked shoulder of the seated man making the armoured plate the player wore benath his cloak rasp dully.
'Another contest ? And you didn't invite me ?!' Cried the newcomer, but with good humour. His face and head were covered with a mass of red hair and beard and her was hugely muscled. 'I have a piece, yet to be tested. I'll let you use it.'
He leant forward and placed the figure of a dragon, moulded by heat out of obsidian, next to the seated man's pieces. 'Ahhh yes, he will be a fine competitor - look who's here!"
The hall was suddenly full of the smell of ozone as a tall man with copper coloured skin and covered in shimmering chainmail marched up to the side of the table.
'You would do me great honour if you would allow my piece to enter the fray."
The Player assented with a grim smile and a new miniature was placed upon the surface. It was made of milky white crystal and depicted a man in armour, armed with a sword and in the dimness of the hall the figurine glowed with a pale blue light.
The red-haired giant frowned. 'You'll taunt his opponent with this one.'
'No, it'll challenge him,' said the newcomer pleasantly. 'There is a difference.'
All three smiled and the Player was about to speak when the quiet of the hall was shattered by the sound of a man and a woman arguing. What they argued about was unclear for they spoke, not in the commonly accept language of the hall, but in the languages of the bird and beasts of the wilderness - screaming foxes, growling bears, howling wolves, crying crows, all these were heard. There was a earthy smell and the sensation of light rain and then the two verbal combatants appeared next to the table.
He was an old man with a long grey beard dressed in greys and browns and leaning on an old staff, taller than him. She was a raven haired woman with deep amber eyes, clad in a gown the colour of the freshest green leaves. Anger and concern flashed across both their faces and the heat of their discourse did not cool as each of the placed a piece on the game board without looking at the others.
Their mission seemly completed they were gone without making eye contact or any other indication they had realised the others were even there. The redhaired man laughed, the chainmail clad warrior smiled as if indulging rude children but the Player frowned, though he accepted the pieces.
He examined them. The old man had left the figure of a door made of malachite. One side of it was neatly carved, ordered, controlled. The other side was half formed and twisted. The woman had left a smaller figure but just as interesting. To the eyes of the Player it was a cat sculptured from emerald. To the red-haired man it was a wolf cut from Onyx. To the warrior it was a woman carved from wood.
'I can assist I think' said a gentle voice from the shadows and the tall, androgenous figure of an elf was next to them, clad for travel with muddied boots. 'I have a piece I'd like to see used - it's not totally mine but enough of it is to be of use.' It opened it's palm, held it's hand flat and blew a gentle breath of air across it. The silver image of a open book, it's pages filled with symbols and script, floated across to the table and gently landed amid the other pieces.
'Enough. There are enough.' The player said quietly. 'It will be here soon and I must be ready to play.'
'No. Wait.' A quiet, in equal parts sweet and sly, voice came from next to his ear and in a whisp of blue/grey smoke a slight figure hidden in a dark cloak appeared. 'Please use this. You need my help.'
From within the shadowed opening of the new arrival's sleeve a small object was lauched. It flew through the air, end over end, bounced once off the table and disappeared into the shadows on the other side of the hall.
'Ooops!'
Far from being annoyed the cowled man seemed amused by the situation. With a slight gesture of his arm the object rolled back out of the darkness and hopped up onto the surface of the table where it came to rest with the other pieces. It was the figure of a crouching man, made of smokey quartz, he had his eyes squeezed shut - he looked like he expected a blow to land on him at any moment. Unfortunately, this impression was further enhanced by several cracks in the quartz at the top of the miniature.
'I cannot use this, it is damaged' the Player said reluctantly.
'Yes, you can. The damage will add to it's...er...effectiveness.'
The red-headed man spoke, the excitement in his voice dissipating as he spoke. 'The point is moot. He will play with the board as set. His opponent is here.'
There was the sound of splintering bone and grinding glass. Their breath turned to ice as it left their lips. Lesser beings would have sickened and died in a moment. The lights flickered as if afraid, then dimmed and then they were consumed as Darkness entered the hall.
Waterday, 15th Day of Flocktime. Common Year (CY) 591
The crossing of Jeklea Bay was kind, despite being pursued on two occasions by Scarlet Brotherhood Slavers and once seeing a Kraken surface only a mile or two away. The Captain, Hezerad Olmek, and crew of 'The Cutter' have become, if not friends, at least firm aquaintances.
As you step down the gangplank onto the Dockside at Sasserine, blinking through the heat haze and already soaked in sweat, you recall the words Olmek said earlier as the ship waited for the tide to turn and bring it into port:
'First thing to remember is the heat. If you think it's hot now just wait until you get in amongst those 'orrid trees. It saps the life out of you. Drink plenty of water and you'll be alright. Don't were all that metalwork in the jungle, you'll broil inside. In the highland you may be alright, it's cooler there, but elsewhere you'll cook for sure!'
'Second, don't have anything to do with the Natives. They paint themselves with mud and eat anyone they come across - even old folks. The brotherhood use them as slaves but they have special powers an' all.'
'Never sleep on the ground in them forests- there's things in there bigger 'ran a tower, with 'eds full of knives and they like nothing better than to dice up those that are snoozing on the ground. Climb a tree and wedge yourself in.'
'Final thing - join up with one of those huge sugar convoys that travel to Cauldron. They've been doing it for years, know all the tricks, all the places to stop and they even know how to deal with most of the those toothy buggers I mentioned just now. Find the Sasserine Plantation offices and they should sign you up !'
Now he is looking down on you from the fo'c'sle of The Cutter with a toothy grin on his salt tanned face.
'Could you do me a favour ? I ain't been up to the big C in a while. Would ya look up an old friend of mine and buy him a drink from me ? He's Gryffon Malek and last time I saw him he was barkeep in the Tipped Tankard. In fact, he'd be a good guy for you lot to get to know - he knows people who know people, if you get what I mean. Useful for work...'
'Drink hard, fight hard and BE LUCKY !!' With this he gives a comic salute and turns away from the side of the ship, barking orders at the deckhands offloading cargo and other gear.
You stand on the basalt docks of Sasserine, your few possessions at your feet, your clothing wet with sweat and your final destination, the City of Cauldron, over one hundred steaming jungle miles away.
At the moment, Stilgar's keen on finding a shrine to Kord. "Hey, guys! Whats says yous about joining me to temple of strong-arm god?"
Assuming that Scale Mail may be considered too hot for these parts, it looks like my travelers clothes and shield will be my armor for now.
"I'll take Captain Olmek's advice and see if I can locate the Sasserine Plantation offices to hitch a ride with a convoy, unless someone's of a different suggestion?"
At the moment, Stilgar's keen on finding a shrine to Kord. "Hey, guys! Whats says yous about joining me to temple of strong-arm god?"
Niklaus stares open-mouthed at the port's forest of masts and bustling activity. So different from home.
At Stilgar's suggestion Nik's mind flits to wrestling. "I'd like to go with Stilgar. Can you guys find out about the convoy and meet us there?"
Jessa tuts, "So yous two go off gallivantin' off whilst we do all the leg work, is that it? We'll make sure y' get the best seats, milord."
She turns to Erion, "Ol' holy-roller here has a pretty good idea there, whaddya think, Erion?" She asks her elven friend.
Jessa fixes the odd man with a withering look of contempt, "Roight, and y'd have no other motive whatsoever, would y' now?" she asks sarcastically, "Right, who're we expectin' next to join us; Iuz? Vecna? Let's have a flamin' party!"
"Jessa, please." Erion murmured. "That is no way to speak to our friend here." He said, gentle admonishment lacing his voice. "You are welcome to come along, Zoomackulas,if you wish." He said to the strange man, locking eyes with him for a moment. "And as for attending a shrine, I have no problems with that. Jessa, perhaps we can go an secure passage for this group, yes?" He asked, hoping she would be able to keep a civil tongue in her mouth for more than a few moments.
He understood her frustrations with others, even if he didn't share them, but despite that, he was a forgiving sort of person, and knew she was only making her agitation out gently - she would do no true harm.
"Me know not what this gali-whatever is. But me and Nik be going to temple. Meet yous guys later at city gates at sundown."
Hearing how difficult it will be to travel to Cauldron, Zoo slides up to the group and says "It might be safer if I travel with you folk, heh, if that is ok, heh........
Agreeing with Erion, I step forward and offer my hand to Zoomackulas, "Well met, neighbor...welcome to our little group...sounds like we'll need strength in numbers for this journey southward."
She turns to Erion, "Ol' holy-roller here has a pretty good idea there, whaddya think, Erion?" She asks her elven friend.
A brief look of puzzlement crosses my face and I mumble, "Holy-roller?" before realizing she's talking about me.
"Well, if we think we're ready, what say we find out about these travel accomodations? Or at least, move to someplace shadier to get our bearings?" This last remark comes in conjunction with wiping more sweat from my brow.
Stilgar does not voice any dissent to the inclusion of Zoomackulus to the party.
|
Ahh..heh....thanks.heh...let me see if I can find out where the sugar plantation offices are located..
Zoo steps away from the party and asks around to get the info needed, he also is looking around to see if there is anyone watching them or seems to have taken special interest in their arrival.
As he walks away from party:
Spot Check (1d20+4=5)
As he rejoins the party:
Spot Check (1d20+4=19)
Sasserine is no ordinary port town - there's an awful lot of port and associated buildings and very little town.
From where you are standing the docks stretch in one form or another for nearly a mile in each direction. Hundreds of sleek blockade running merchantmen like the 'Cutter' are quickly offloading mundane supplies and a few passengers and are then being filled with bales of sugar cane or cotton with equal alacrity. Some larger, more heavily armed vessels, most bearing a coat of arms consisting of a black Lion rampant on a dark red field, are loading iron bound boxes. These vessels are under heavy guard, with several men-at-arms around each box.
Set a dozen feet inland from the docks are warehouses, stockyards and wagon laagers full of more cargo waiting to be loaded or to be hauled inland. This belt of buildings is as long as the docks themselves and has a road paved in basalt blocks running either side of it.
Beyond the rows of buildings there seems to be an open space running the length of the port but you cannot see what it is from where you've disembarked. Beyond this space you can just make out the tops of immense trees and the dark green of the steaming Amedio Jungle.
The people working the docks around you are dark skinned, short statured humans covered in swirling tattoos. Their facial expressions are fixed but their voices are strong and they gabble to each other in a language none of you have ever heard. They completely ignore you. Amongst these tattooed folk you notice the odd 'northerner' working alongside them or watching over them with a board and stylus in hand.
Presently a Older man, Pale skinned but covered in tattoos similar to the other 'locals' approches you with a genial smile, but with six men at arms flanking him.
'Just landed ?' he asks 'Time to pay your Landing Tax !'
Kellen
Assuming that Scale Mail may be considered too hot for these parts, it looks like my travelers clothes and shield will be my armor for now.
I take the view that you scalemail has a leather 'arming doublet' underneath it which will count as sudded leather armour.
Looking around the docks, the men at arms all wear leather or studded leather (one or two officer types seem to be wearing breastplates, but that really is the only type of metallic armour you can see).
If you choose to wear anything more heavy than light in this area you will soon suffer the effects of fatigue and any strenuous activity will result in exhaustion. A period of acclimatisation and journeying to a slightly higher altitude is probably in order. ;)
Stilgar and Niklaus
Looking around all you can see is the docka as described above there is no sign of a 'Temple District' let along a Gymnasium of Kord. Still there is some of Sasserine you haven't yet seen so you may still be in luck.
However as the two of you Warrior types look around make a spot check:
A DC 12 success allows you to open this spoiler:
Checking out the other strong-arm types on th dock you notice that the vast majority of them are amed with some type of long Pole arm. Pikes are very common as are abnormally long halberds and ranseurs. Odd.
A DC 18 success allows you to open this spoiler as well:
One in every three or four of these pole arms have had their heads reinforced with strips of metal running half way down the shaft. Some of these weapons seem to have material, similar to the pitch soaked straw you would use to make a torch, carefully wrapped around the metal reinforced haft and secured with wire.
Erion eyes only
You remember that both Sternhost and Maavu Arlingtal had holdings in Sasserine, but you are unable to remember where or what sort of premesis they were. You do know that Sternhost had nothing to do with Sugar or Cotton and that Maavu specialises in domestic supplies so neither operation is of a size that would facilitate the organisation of a 'caravan' in it's own right.
Jessa fixes them with cold eyes and her own version of a 'genial' smile. "Oh, a tax is it? And why would y' not be levying that on the ship's captain. sure? I dunno if me friends and me understand your tax system. We're kind of bad at all that financial stuff. Why don't we say that you'll waive it this time, eh?"
Zoomackulas eyes only
The voyage has left you feeling a little light headed and, just for an instant the ground seemed to sway and yaw like the deck of a ship in a storm.
You move toward the crowds of tattooed stevedores in the hope of finding the information you need but their expressionless eyes seem to look into you and their bizarre, non-sensical language is out of kilter with their emotionless visages. 'Cheese! Cheese! Get the Cheese! Eat the Cheese! Cheese! is all you can hear in those voices, incessently repeating as you stumble over your questions. You start to sweat, you might fall, your skin prickles, you might vomit.
And then, you struggle back to your new companions; recovering, a little shocked and strangely hungry.....
Jessa fixes them with cold eyes and her own version of a 'genial' smile. "Oh, a tax is it? And why would y' not be levying that on the ship's captain. sure? I dunno if me friends and me understand your tax system. We're kind of bad at all that financial stuff. Why don't we say that you'll waive it this time, eh?"
Diplomacy check, y'know? (1d20+4=22)
Jessa smiles far too nicely at the man, and says icily "We'll be going now. Top o' the mornin' to ya"
"Hey! Whats that, Nik?"
"Looks like everyone here's got looooong spears, Stilgar. I wonder why?"
"Hey! Look at that one and there's some more. It's like some of these guys have torches on the ends of their pikes. Why would you do that? Set boats on fire? Monsters in the water?"
Nik wanders to the dock edge to look into the water.
Spot or search checks if needed:
Stilgar unslings his greatsword, keeping a keen eye out for trouble. Me do not trusts city men. Me instincts tells me they be treacherous
Diplomacy check, y'know? (1d20+4=22)
Jessa smiles far too nicely at the man, and says icily "We'll be going now. Top o' the mornin' to ya"
The Tax collector smiles at Jessa and is about to say something when his face flashes fear as he spys Stilgor loosening his greatsword and looking at him distrustingly. The men at arms take a confident step forwards and weapons are grasped in readiness.
'There's no need for any funny business. The Tax has to be paid and that's that. How'dya think the Sea-Lord pays for all the defences and that ? Itsa' gold piece each unless you're importing anything an' then it 10 percent.' He looks Jessa up and down, 'You importing anything, miss ?'
For Niklaus:
You stare down into the water and something stare back up at you ! You might be wrong but just for a minute you were sure you were looking into the eyes of a azure skinned half elf. Then, there was a splash and a swirl and nothing......
......the thing that alarmed you was the wink.
Jessa puts her tongue in her cheek and raises an eyebrow, "Are you gonna search me now, then?" she says with an edge to her voice, "Where d'ya think I hide me cotraband, eh?"
"Ach, go on then! Here you go!" she snarls with anoyance. She takes out a gold piece and smacks it down into the man's palm.
Nik jumps back from the edge of the dock. "Hey, guys! There's a blue elf in the water." He says excitedly. "Or there was. Right down there. C'mon!" He moves along the dock edge hoping for another glimpse.
"Blue elf?! Yous sure yous not drink too much grog?"
Stilgar tries to see what Nik is looking at.
I take the view that you scalemail has a leather 'arming doublet' underneath it which will count as sudded leather armour.Looking around the docks, the men at arms all wear leather or studded leather (one or two officer types seem to be wearing breastplates, but that really is the only type of metallic armour you can see).
If you choose to wear anything more heavy than light in this area you will soon suffer the effects of fatigue and any strenuous activity will result in exhaustion. A period of acclimatisation and journeying to a slightly higher altitude is probably in order. ;)
Great - thanks for the information!
In light of that, please note that Kellen is using that doublet for now until we are in area that is more condusive to metal armor. Hopefully when we get into the highlands or Cauldron itself. :-)
I will note in Kellen's profile the different armor specs.
The Tax collector smiles at Jessa and is about to say something when his face flashes fear as he spys Stilgor loosening his greatsword and looking at him distrustingly. The men at arms take a confident step forwards and weapons are grasped in readiness.'There's no need for any funny business. The Tax has to be paid and that's that. How'dya think the Sea-Lord pays for all the defences and that ? Itsa' gold piece each unless you're importing anything an' then it 10 percent.' He looks Jessa up and down, 'You importing anything, miss ?'
"Easy now, neighbor..we mean no ill intent. We've been on a long journey, and we're all a little on edge - we had some brigands pursued us and run-ins with sea creatures. There's a whole lot of armored folks around, and things seem a tad tense - you can pardon us if we didn't understand, right? Perhaps we can settle things more hospitably, eh?"
I also want to try to gauge whether he seems legtimate in his task.
Finally, if it looks like we are making some headway, I'd like to continue and say: "I'm sure you'd like to get back to your duties without anymore fuss; the fellows with you would probably like to get back their barracks, and we'd like to be on our way. If could you direct us to the Sasserine Plantation offices, we'd be most appreciative.
The Collector's eyes move from Jessa to Kellen and his smile returns. He steps forward and collects the 5gp from Kellen's hand. 'That's better. Nice and civilized like. You're a strange bunch to have shipped over to this sh**hole ! You Mercs ? Or Explorer's ? Or What ?'
The money goes into a leather satchel with a important looking seal on it. The transaction done the man and his escort visibly relax and after a few minutes of chat he sends them away.
You get the following information from him during your chat. (Please feel free to ask specific questions in character though)
- The Tax Collectors names is Ragrinson and he's lived in Sasserine for 'longer than I care to recall'.
- The Port is nominally under the Rule of Keoland and is run by a Magistrate who most inhabitants refer to as the 'Sea-Lord' - a reclusive man who does business from behind the curtains of a sedan chair.
- There are no temples of any faith in Sasserine although there is a multi-deity shrine next to the tiny market. There is a altar to Kord there.
- Huge Caravans leave for the interior on a daily basis from several of the Plantation Offices attached to the warehouse complex. Pick one you trust and sign on.
- Beyond the warehouses in an area of land which is kept clear buy hundreds of native workers. Beyond this is a pallisade of huge logs and beyond that is several lines of other defences all designed to keep a form of life referred to as 'Fleshtearers' at bay.
- Merfolk, Aquatic Elves and Tritons have, on occasion been seen in the docks and the inhabitants believe seeing one is good luck.
- There's one drinking hole in the Port. Know simply as 'Worker's Rest', it's huge with an outside bar which totally covers two sides of the Market Place.
- Merfolk, Aquatic Elves and Tritons have, on occasion been seen in the docks and the inhabitants believe seeing one is good luck.
Nik brightens perceptibly at this information.
- Beyond the warehouses in an area of land which is kept clear buy hundreds of native workers. Beyond this is a pallisade of huge logs and beyond that is several lines of other defences all designed to keep a form of life referred to as 'Fleshtearers' at bay.
Nik can't let this this go. "ahh, Ragrison, what exactly is a fleshtearer? That's a fearsome name. Is that what all the fancy pole arms are for?"
After the poor harried tax collector departs, Nik turns to Kellen. "Thanks for picking up the tax. I'll buy you a drink at the next inn."
Finally, back to Stilgar, "still going to the temple?"
"Cans still go, but lets agree first on where to meet up later. We not want to get separated in this big city."
- Beyond the warehouses in an area of land which is kept clear buy hundreds of native workers. Beyond this is a pallisade of huge logs and beyond that is several lines of other defences all designed to keep a form of life referred to as 'Fleshtearers' at bay.Nik can't let this this go. "ahh, Ragrison, what exactly is a fleshtearer? That's a fearsome name. Is that what all the fancy pole arms are for?"
Ragrinson smiles. 'I wondered when you'd get around to asking about them. Fleshtearers are big beast, some bigger'n one of those warehouses. They live in the jungle mainly eating each other, but sometimes the get to trying to eat the likes'o' you and me. Yep the polearms are the best way of keeping them away, as long as enough of you get together quickly enough. They seem to fear fire too. They're the reason the Caravan's up the Sweet Road are so huge. Protection, you know ?'
Nik nods sagely? in agreement. "Thanks, Ragrinson."
Turning to the group. "Guys, Stilgar still wants to go to the temple. Where can we meet up with you?"
"Me thinks we should get some of those pole-thingies, Nik."
Jessa's scowling at the genial conversation between the tax-collecting scumbag and the holier than thou paladin, turns to visible annoyance when the 'boys' start discussing pole-arms, "Will y' shuttup about the pole-arms!" she snaps, "Y'd think youse were making up f'r somethin' the way yer carryin' on! No-one's buyin' any feckin pole-arms!"
"But, Jessa, all the other warriors have them. Ragrinson said they were the best defense against flesh-tearers!" Nik's petulant whining tone indicates one reason his family may have sent him on this trip.
"An' we're gonna be lookin' for 'fleshtearers' are we? Well, are we? I'd rather be gettin' to Cauldron in one piece without you an' yer buddy," (pointing at Stilgar), "Pokin' yer eyes out with big sticks!" She folds her arms and looks diretcly at him, her jaw set firmly, "Niklaus Wright, we ain't buyin' polearms." she says with an air of familial finality.
"Jessa, I don't think all these guys would be toting the pikes around if they weren't needed. Stilgar, Kellen, someone -- Ppplease talk to her."
"Gettin' pole-thingies not stupid idea. If we meets up with them, then we fix them. If not then no big loss. A weapon is a weapon. 'Sides these fleshtearers may be a challenge." Stilgar starts flexing his muscles.
Jessa just stares almost open-mouthed at Stilgar.
Then does the same back at Nik.
"What a right pair of eejits y'are..." she says in disbelief, shaking her head.
She looks to Kellen and Erion for support, annoyance creeping into her voice, "Can we not just be gettin' on with gettin' outta here?" she asks, "Otherwise these two'll be here for days, sure!"
As the party stands in the burning sun, sweat streaming off of all of you, a loud bell rings twice somewhere inland and nearly all activity on the docks stops as the majority of the workers head for shade, refreshment and rest. In the sudden quiet that decends upon the area you can hear the sea, gulls and the calls of strange creatures from the, as yet, unseen jungle.
You all realise just how far away from home you are.
"Heironeous, give me strength..."I mumble in the midst of the chaotic conversation about polearms and poking eyes out.
Hopefully, before he departs, I turn towards Ragrinson and ask/inquire a couple of things concerning our first objective: transport services
"Thanks for your help, Mr. Ragrinson. Since I'm not sure of what Plantation office to sign on with, can you suggest one you trust?" This last comment I say with a slight grin.
"Also, if we are to join these caravans, will we be needing to arm ourselves with these polearms you mention? Given that I am now a few coins shorter, I was hoping to continue my travels with the arms I have." Again, trying to be light-hearted about this situation.
Assuming we get an answer that resolves the "polearm" controversy, I then proceed to the Plantation offices to make some arrangements for travel and get out of the heat - whew!
After that, I am hoping to find some information on the caravans, these fleshtearers, and maybe what kind of reception we can expect when we first enter Cauldron. One more inquiry also - do I recognize the Black Lion Coat of Arms or what they might be transporting?
Gathering Information (1d20+2=7)
Diplomacy (1d20+2=16)
Knowledge check - heraldry? (1d20=15)
"Pardon my presumption, friends and neighbors - but before we get ourselves into a frenzy over polearms, why don't we get a lay of the town and get our plans in order first. I don't know about you, but with everyone gone on break...I'm feeling a bit obvious out here."
"We'll gather in a few hours at this Worker's Rest, and hopefully have gathered our wits a bit more. Hopefully, we can better prepare then. Not to mention get a cool drink or two, eh?" This last comment is again accompanied by wiping more sweat off my brow.
I'm looking around at my new comrades, hoping this sugestion is met with approval...