Black Tom's War of the Burning Sky

Game Master Black Tom

It is New Year’s Eve, and near midnight on this frigid evening the heroes gather in a small condemned tavern in the Free Citystate of Gate Pass. Located in the mountain pass which separates two hostile nations — Ragesia and Shahalesti — Gate Pass has been neutral since the end of their last war, but now from Ragesia a scourge comes for the city.

By now, every magic-user in Gate Pass knows of the Scourge. The Emperor of Ragesia died barely a month ago, and in a move to cement herself as the next emperor of Ragesia, Leska, leader of the Ragesian inquisitors, has decreed that all disloyal users of magic — arcane or divine — are to be tracked down and killed, to prevent future threats to the empire.

The inquisitors, clerics specialized in countermagic, travel with military escorts to the borders of Ragesia. Their first target is Gate Pass, its neutrality long viewed as an insult to the nation’s honor. Those who resist them will have to face the searing power of the Ragesian Empire.

An entire army marches for Gate Pass, and the people of the city fear that they will not be able to resist the might of the Ragesian military. The city leaders are bowing under pressure, and have barred the exit from the city, intending to welcome the inquisitors that come with the army, for they foolishly hope that the Ragesians will reward their cooperation with mercy.

When Molasbar gets word that the Ragesian military is coming, a chill runs through him. Perhaps if I'd spent more time in the pursuit of pure arcane power, I could do something... But now he knows it is just a matter of trying to survive. The scholarly robes that he wore just weeks ago are gone, replaced by simple sturdy traveling clothes. Anything he could do to throw off the appearance of an arcanist, he has done. He has also taken steps to stop making visible displays of magic use, though as an elf, he is sure suspicion will fall on him regardless. What he needed was a way out of the city before the army arrives. Molasbar eats his meal quietly, waiting for more news while he ponders what contacts he may have that could help him survive, whether by fight, flight or concealment, the coming forces.

One battle was as good as another. When he heard the rumors of the battle to come Yurggen headed right towards Gate Pass. He hadn't been hired yet, but that would come. He always sets his price a bit high in the beginning just to get his name out there...and who knows with the threat of war around, maybe someone might overpay for his battle skills. And if not that wasn't a big deal either. He'd find a spot to do his damage, then collect his reward from his vanquished foes. He didn't hate them. He hated nobody...or at least very few, but it was what he did, and what he lived for. He was a warrior, and lived to fight. Nothing got his blood pumping like the smell of excavated guts, and fresh blood. And it looked like he might see his share of that. Now to find a place to stand and look obvious, available, and deadly for a while.

I'm out of the country till next Monday, and internet service is spotty at best, but I'll try to keep up. Won't be able to finish up my background till I'm back in the states probably, but I should be able to keep up anyway.

At the church of Abadar, Wolf-Sark swings a censer of costly incense as the high priest delivers his sermon. The words are familiar ones, not changed from the last time Ragesia invaded, when Wolf-Sark was just a young acolyte who took up arms against the foe. Taking up arms against a prosperous free city like Gate Pass was a great sin in the eyes of Abadar the Citybuilder; the only conquest he supported was the conquest of civilization over barbarism and the conquest of silver and gold over savagery. The priest urged the congregation to take up arms against the invaders, for the sake of civilization and trade. Wolf-Sark knew that he would obey, when the time came, as his parents did before him. Even if it meant fighting against their former countrymen.

I fear it is easy to say a sword is dangerous because it can hurt innocents and words are dangerous because they can incite riots and hatred. Magic is just another tool as weapons and words, just as it can be used for good, it can be used for evil too. Who gets to decide what the intentions of the user of these tools are? Why the strong, of course. They get to determine intentions and consequences and mete out the punishments. I have watched this drama play out before, and my honor can't stand much more inaction--it may be time to pick a side.

Hiro has a simple meal in the tavern and realizes another wandering swordsman shouldn't be a threat to the inquisitors. Hiro remembers an old saying 'all that is necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing'. Hiro shakes his head and affirms "I am a good man; I will do something."

Sorry for the delay some reason it wasent telling me this had started

Naria looks up from where she is sitting at the man's outburst. In all honesty she did not really have anything to do with the town but still she supposed the man had a point.

Zar'zel, sitting in a corner of the desolate looking tavern, would turn his head as a man spoke of being a good man.

The times were dire and good men were needed. Could he trust someone he had never met?

Going against his gut, knowing that inaction could lead to his city's demise, he would speak.

"Good men are in scarce quantity these days. What makes you one of the few?"

You have all, singly or together and for various reasons, been told to meet your contact Torrent of the resistance at the Poison Apple Pub a little before midnight on New Year's Eve, and to use the alley door.

The people of the city know an army is on the way, so the streets are fairly deserted and normal festivities muted, letting you travel unmolested. The pub is in a poorer district about a mile from the western city wall, filled with slushcovered cobblestone streets and dark, snow-filled alleyways. The evening is dark and claustrophobic, the multistory buildings of the city looming in the night, no lights in most windows.

The pub is a two-story building attached by a rooftop bridge to a neighboring house. The door and windows are boarded up, and the curtains drawn (though a faint light can be seen if someone checks closely). A notice has been posted on its door:

“Trehan Finner, owner of the Poison Apple Pub, has been taken into temporary custody under the protection of the city guard, until such time that he can be questioned by representatives of the Ragesian Empire, and found innocent of hostile collusion. The Poison Apple Pub is hereby closed until further notice.”

At your knock on the door a fair-haired young woman opens it a crack. After checking to make sure it’s safe, she lets you in, gesturing casually to a table where she has set up a lamp, a map, several mugs, and a small keg of beer. “Thanks for coming,” she says. “Have a drink. Just because we’re about to go to war doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate the new year.”

The darkened pub is mostly empty now, its many tables and chairs pushed to one wall and covered with sheets. A single table sits in the middle of the room, with enough chairs for all of you. A small oil lamp and a keg sit on top of it, along with several mugs. At the back corner of the common room beside the bar, a staircase leads upstairs. The windows and door facing onto the street are closed, and you know they have been boarded up from the outside. On the wall behind the bar hangs a bronze bust of the former emperor of Ragesia, Drakus Coaltongue, a regal, aged half-orc with a scar cutting diagonally across his face. You and Torrent are the only people in the room.

She cuts an imposing figure. As tall and strong as the typical warrior, Torrent is a distinctive looking woman with tanned skin and short white hair. Under a dark winter coat she wears a breastplate decorated with
blue wave-like etchings, and a holy symbol to Gozreh is tied to her wrist with a leather cord. Her demeanor is smooth but forceful, like an ocean wave.

The young swordsmen smiles at the warrior lady and takes a seat at the table. He immediately examines the map.
"I am called Hiro, and this looks like a council of war. Events are not to my liking, but I haven't thought of anything to do to avert the coming disaster. I am hoping to gain some insight and hope here."

Hiro looks at Zarzel "I think being a good man means doing the right thing no matter what the consequences and dangers. If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. The masters I have served have not stood for anything but greed and power, so I have not stood for anything of value. I WILL change this."

Wolf-Sark glances at all of the assembled guests, but turns his attention to the woman in charge, the brows of his brutish half-orc face drawn together in consternation.

"Sister, can that sign on the door be true? Is our city guard truly arresting good and prosperous citizens and handing them over to the Ragesians? That's outrageous! Abadar's wrath will surely punish those who betray their city and the cause of civilized peace."

As the appointed time grows closer, Molasbar departs for the Poison Apple Pub. As we walks the late night streets, he tries not to let his nervousness show. He walks with an air of confidence he wished he truly felt. Every hundred yards or so he tests his sword, making sure it is loose in his scabbard. His only solace is the quiet streets. Normally that would be disturbing in these circumstances, but the fewer people he crosses paths with the better Molasbar feels. He makes a long circuit around the pub’s location, making sure he does not pass in front of it. He approaches only from the alley side as instructed.

Upon arriving, Molasbar knocks quietly, though he tenses up at the sound, certain that all within several blocks can hear it. When Torrent opens the door, he smiles warmly at her and slips in quietly. He keeps his cloak pulled around him, clearly still cold. He glances longingly at the fireplace, knowing that a warming fire is absolutely out of the question. He considers again using the power of his ring to cast Endure Elements on himself, but does not in fear that he’ll need that ability for something more pressing before the night is out.

He smiles warmly at the others gathered (and again at any arriving after him), meeting their gaze with a nod of greeting. Friends all, certainly, or Torrent would not have risked inviting them.

It is outrageous. All of it. I can’t believe they will truly let those barbarians into this city. They will likely burn every book they find in their ignorance, along with anyone they find holding them. After that, the elf falls silent. He picks up his mug and downs a little more of the drink than he should. Then catching himself forces himself to put the mug down and stay focused. This sitting and waiting is madness, though like most others in this city I lack direction. Were I to stake out on my own, I’d certainly be hunted down and overwhelmed. I will do so much better with a task or direction to focus on. His observation seems accurate. When all is quiet, Molasbar is looking around, nervous and jumping at every sound. When he is engaged with someone or someone is talking, he seems to focus closely and carefully, absorbing everything and all traces of nervousness gone.

Naria sits down but declines any drink at this point she listens more than she speaks.

Yurggen walks by himself to the rendezvous point. The last couple of leads had led to people with more zealous plans than sense or cash. Hopefully this one might be more fruitful. I was certainly more clandestine. While Yurggen preferred close combat in even closer tunnels, he understood the necessity of embracing all forms, and settings for a fight. You couldn't always choose your battlefield, but you could make the best of the situation. With his mood lightning at the prospect of a good fight, he approached the building right on time.

I like it. These closing walls are almost like being underground. This place is not bad for a human city.

He watched a couple of other individuals enter the building, then hustled to enter behind one of them. Avoiding taking a seat, he took the offered ale, and stood against a wall near the table, nursing his drink, and waiting for the plan to be revealed.

"Torrent, it appears we are all here." Hiro fills mugs from the keg and passes them around. "Happy New Year all. Let us toast to the beginning of something better than ourselves. A cause for which to put ourselves on the line and test the measure of each of us."

To lighten the mood Hiro moves to the map and begins to point. "The legion of heavy cavalry will be here, and the six mammoths here, we put the sappers here, and the 10,000 archers will set up here. We direct the fighting from here, and the messengers will move from here to here carrying the military dispatches."

Zarzel would look upon the so called "good man" with a look that seemed to be formed from a mix of distrust, shock, and disapproval.

"Who are you to tell us what shall be done? I do not remember being told you had taken command. Not to mention, what makes you think that our ragged little band has such strength in arms?"

With a shake of his head, he continued you on. "The city heads have given up and seek only to save their own skins. With the time of conflict growing all the nearer, I suggest we allow Torrent to speak so that we might see what insight she can give us."

"Who are you to tell us what shall be done? I do not remember being told you had taken command. Not to mention, what makes you think that our ragged little band has such strength in arms?"

Wolf-Sark gives the two a wry smile. "A man can dream, can't he? Say, brother, while you're conjuring armies from your imagination, why don't you whip up a dozen phalanxes of mountain giants and a legion of invisible archmages?"

Hiro smiles at Wolf-Sark and replies, "You know the mountain giants and archmages deploy where they please. We just have to trust they are in the right place at the right time--especially the invisible archmages because well, they are invisible. Lady Torrent, sorry for making light of a serious situation, this is a tough room."

Hiro brings a mug over to Wolf-Sark. "I am called Hiro, glad to meet you. Although I have trained extensively, the real thing kind of has me nervous."

"I'm Naria a pleasure to meet you."

Torrent grimaces and straightens in her chair, saying, “That’s one year gone. I guess it’s time to get down to business. The city’s in trouble. The Ragesian army is marching on us, and will be here by tomorrow. Before then, we have a mission.

I used to study at a magic academy to the south, called Lyceum. They’re good people. So when word reached them about Ragesia’s ‘Scourge,’ they sent out messages calling for anyone fleeing Ragesia to come to them. They want to stand against the Ragesians, and the resistance wants their help. We just need to get a message to them.

Normally we would have sent something by teleporting courier, but something strange is going on with planar magic. The last courier who teleported into Gate Pass, rumor is that he showed up burnt to a crisp. Not that I have that sort of magic anyway, but if we’re going to talk to Lyceum, we’re going to have to go overland. And that’s a problem, because the city’s walls are sealed.

Ever since their emperor died, the Ragesians have been trying to show that they’re not weak, and they’re marching an army in our direction, since the mountain pass we’re in is apparently ‘strategically valuable.’ Either way, a few idiots on the city council want to negotiate with the Ragesians, and rumor is they’re going to invite a group of inquisitors into the city to look for ‘magic-users who are hostile to the empire.’ They’ve sealed the gates of the city so no one can get out, to make sure they look like they’re cooperating, and only military personnel can get in or out.

We’re going to have to get out of the city, and I’m open to suggestions on how. Once we’re out, I can get us safely to Lyceum, but before we get ahead of ourselves, we have a mission tonight. The short version is that we’ve got to meet a contact — a gnome named Rivereye Badgerface — in about an hour at a guarded depository about a half-mile from here. He’s carrying a case of vital military intelligence which he stole from the Ragesian palace, and the heads of the resistance think that it needs to reach Lyceum. We’ve got to get that case, get out of the city, and get far away from here before the idiot city council lets the Ragesian inquisitors in. Once that happens, the odds of us escaping are - she finishes off her mug of beer in one long guzzle — slim.

I know I’d love to stay here and fight against the Ragesians, but I’m no soldier, and this mission might be more important. Worst case, you get away from the Ragesians and we can part ways a few days down the road. Best case, you can come with me to Lyceum, and we come back with an army of our own to drive off the Ragesians. But we’ve got to act fast either way. Are you ready for this?

Wolf-Sark now gives a more appraising glance at all of the folks assembled around the table. Apparently not put off by what he sees, he nods. "If it helps the resistance effort, I'll throw my lot in with them again. Well met, all. My name is Wolf-Sark, acolyte of Abadar." Around his neck he wears a short cape made out of a wolf-skin as a tribute to his name.

The nervous elf sits up and a calm and focus wash over him. In an even voice he says Yes, you can count on me in this. I am Molasbar he says with a nod of greeting to any he hasn't spoken with yet. I have been studying for decades, and have a great deal of lore that may be of some use. Indeed, I would be ready to leave right now. he says, patting the backpack that rests against his chair.

Would Molasbar have any ideas of ways out of the city? A sewer system, and closed up gatehouse they might be able to sneak through? A place where the walls aren't well patroled?

Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

"Count me in. We rescue the gnome and escape. Maybe the gnome has an escape plan and he sounds like a very resourceful fellow. As a capable spy he probably has a better plan than we can come up with putting all our heads together. Getting his information secure should be the first order of business."
Hiro puts wipes his mouth and puts the mug down.
"Lead us to Rivereye. I guess cleaning up is kind of pointless."

Zarzel rolled his eyes as this man named Hiro continued on. Once done, he turned his gaze to Torrent and spoke.

"You know you have my support till the end Torrent. I've aided the resistance for some time now and I have no need or want to stop doing so."

Upon completion of his declaration, he would move his eyes appraisingly over the rest.

"You all may refer to me as The Weasel. No offense to you all, or at least most of you, but I prefer my name be kept separate from this business. I need no glory at this point in time."

"So let me get this straight". "We meet this bone headed gnome, sneak him out of the city with a full army approaching". "then head off to some place full of mages". "Sounds like folly to me"...and that's without even making a silver penny to boot". "Still I don't like nobody telling me who to fight for, or whose boot to lick...so I guess I'm in". "For now anyway". Yurggen spits to the side and grumbles something in dwarven under his breath.

"Worry not, dwarf," Wolf-Sark assures him, "Abadar will reward those who follow his will with riches in this world and the next. Just keep your eyes and mind open and I assure you that opportunities for wealth will be waiting for you."

Zarzel actually smiled at the Half-Orcs words.

Indeed. There are always opportunities to fund one's operations. He thought to himself.

"I'm not much into the riches thing but I'll help if I can."

Sorry for the delay.

Just some snippets of information below:

About the Ragesian army:

Knowledge (history or nobility & royalty) (DC 15)

About the inquisitors: (Knowledge (Arcana or Religion)
DC 10:

As for getting out of the city, the sewers empty out into deep caverns below, so that's not a way out. Somehow you will have to pass the heavily guarded gates to the east.

Knowledge (local) 10:

I put up a city map under Campaign info to give you an understanding of the odd layout of Gate Pass.

Know: Religion 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Wolf-Sark turns to Molasbar. "Elf -- I take it that you're some kind of mage, yes? Then you know well that we should try to keep clear of any inquisitors. Their mind-protecting masks, artificial claws, and their use of negative energy to dispel magic make them dangerous foes indeed."

Knowledge arcana 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Knowledge Arcana 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Knowledge History 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Knowledge Nobility 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Knowledge Religion 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Molasbar nods in agreement to Wolf-Sark’s question. I am a student of all things, including the arcane. Unfortunately, I haven’t focused on the arcane to the full of my potential and my power would be of little significance to the army or the inquisitors. But perhaps some of the other learning and observation I have done may be of use to all of you, given your willingness to act in the face of this threat.

I heard that the army headed our way is under the command of General Danava. And while they may not have any wizards or sorcerers amongst their numbers, they do have monsters that they count as allies, including wyverns that some ride upon.

And then there are the Inquisitors. Molasbar says with a grimace. I have heard and seen the same things that Wolf-Sark has about them. They fanatically believe that the only good magical power is when it is wielded by them. They are particularly effective against those of us who use magic, which is why… he trails off, but pats the longsword at his side to show he wouldn’t be completely defenseless against them. They are usually humans, orcs, or somewhere in between. I’ve heard they are remarkable interrogators, especially with those claws they wear. Molasbar pauses a moment to let their imaginations run with that last notion. My understanding is that they are still lead by Supreme Inquisitor Leska, but I can’t be sure of that. If it is the same person, then he has been there at least forty years and certainly has amassed a lot of power.

Molasbar also adds If we can’t find any other way out of the city, we could also try councilman Erdan Menash. I’ve seen his house; it is rather… interesting and eccentric. But from what I’ve heard, he is the sort that wouldn’t be sympathetic to the inquisitors and indeed might be of a disposition to help the likes of us.

"Well let's go see him then". "I'm not a big fan of sitting around waiting to get hit". "The best defense is a good offense, I always say".

"Well spoken sir dwarf, the inquisitors approach."
Hiro asks for more information on Rivereye on the way.

Zarzel listened to every word and measured each in turn. When given a chance, he spoke.

"Torrent, do you mean the depository a block over?"

Torrent nods: "Yes, that's where we are to meet Rivereye. I don't know him personally, but he's been working in the imperial palace of Ragesia and has come upon some kind of vital information. Menash might be able to help us and as soon as we are out of the gate, I have some ideas about how we can get to Dassen."

Perception 20:

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

"Brothers -- do any of you need to retrieve any equipment before we go meet Master Rivereye? If not, then soonest begun is soonest done."

Perception 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

I am ready now. All I own is here with me. he says as he stands and slings his pack over one shoulder.

Perception

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Zarzel's eyes shot to the roof as a sound caught his attention.

"Were we planning on company?" he would ask as he stood and picked up his bow.

Hiro reacts immediately when he hears Zarzel's words and sees him glance up.
"Our conversation must stay private."
Hiro rushes outside to look for any eavesdroppers.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 Perception

Yurggen draws his weapon and looks around. "I don't hear anything", Yurggen says drawing his weapon, and turning his head sideways. He then looks at Zarzel, and silently points towards the ceiling where the man was looking, with a questioning glance.

In the sudden silence you hear distant muted thumps fill the air, like the sound of ripe fruit landing on the roof of a house.

As Hiro rushes to the alley door you hear something outside, as something heavy crashes into the front door.

Perception 5:

Roll for initiative. Map is up under campaign info, so please indicate your position on it.

Put me at N34 please

Init

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

P32, please.

Initiative 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

I'll try G32...assuming that's at the foot of the stairway.

1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 Initiative

Hiro was right by the alley door (don't know which one on the map). INIT 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Hiro begins casting enlarge on himself.

Init: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Google Docs is blocked at work. Put me somewhere in the middle of the room.

Zar'zel will be in M29 as he never left his corner.

Initiative 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Wolf-Sark is in M32, then.